The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1888-06-21
7, ICOO, ITIt IOIIUWIHB,
A WONDER,
A MIsCOUNT AT FIRST BUT A DAGGER
MADE THE CORRECTION.

AS the sun went down ana darkness
began to creep over the face of the earth
the angry roar of artillery died away
and the craCkle of musketry was less
spiteful For awhile the fighting on the
extreme right hung on, to settle the
question of who should occupy the old
earthworks, but at length dead silence
fell upon the whole field.
Silence? Mol it was silence COM
pared to the awful roar of the long after.
noon but it was a silence broken by the
screams and grOans and prayers of
wounded .men-by the movements of
wagons and artilery-by the subdued
voices of 70 900 men as they camped for
the night without fire and anxiOusly de
bated the chances for the morrow.
The sergeant marches off to the left at
the head of half dozen men. He drops
"A man at Post No. L and gives him
whispered instructions, 1t is the same
at posts 9, ,, 4, ETC., until the last man
has been stationed.
There must be viglant, wakeful men
between friend and foe while long night
wears away.
Post No. G. is under a great beech
tree, Shot and shell have SCARED and
|
have shattered and rivun its thick limbs.
A quarter of a century hence this tree
will bear witness to the terrible struggle
of to-day.
From this tree TO the edge of that
thicket. and the countersign is Justice,
whispered the sergeant, and as he passes
on the picket takes up his beat. He
counts as he passes them by-one, two,
three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
What? Corpses! They are lying on the
grass 80 near the path he travels that he
can touch any of them with his foot.
There are others TO the right and left,
farther away. 1t was here that the
enemy charged battery-here our
forces rallied to preserve it. Grape shot
and canister, bullet and bayonet, found
victims here. Some lay as If asleep,
worn out with the tremendous conflict
Others raved and prayed and cursed
God and man before death released
them from their sufferings.
The picket counts them as he walks,
and sigh escapes his lips. Tomorrow
night some sentinel may number his
mutllated corpse with others on the
same meadow. Tomorrow night the
autumn winds may vainly seek to rouse
him from his death sleep.
From tree to thicket and turn. From
thicket to tree and turn. He must
watch and listen and be on his guard,
but by and by he finds time to count
again: One-two- three four five
six seven eight nine ! What he
counted only eight before! Was he mis-
taken. or can the dead of the battlefield
creep and crawlP Six-seven-eight-
nine. Yes, there are nine. In the dark
ness he had made mistake. Nine!
Well, what matters one more or one
less corpse upon a field of battle?
To the tree and turn. To the thicket
and turn. As he heads for the tree
again the ninth corpse assumes sitting
position and looks after him. A mo-
nient later it struggles up, and figure
goes creeping after the picket. The
grass on the meadow is thick and matted.
His FOOTBALLS give out no sound. Softly
-softly-silently az the meadow OF
death creeping creeping, creeping,
and now is close upon the lone picket.
There is a gleam of steel in the darkness
"a swift and powerful blow, and he who
was placed to watch will watch no
more.
Through the gaps the spies will pour
IN and skulk about the camps; regi-
mont will be silently advanced to the
key position; the ghouls will scent
plumber and creep up to rob the dead.
The picket had counted, 'seven-eight
-ninep
There is no missing corpses. The mum
Der has been made good!