Morning journal and courier., 1890-07-15
SOMEBODY'S BoY.
The Whole Line Cheered, and at Least one Voice Was for an Enemy Spared.
 From the Detroit Free Presxl

The Whole Line Cheered, and at Least |
 one Voice Was for an Enemy Spared.
 From the Detroit Free Press.l
 As we were falling back upon Malvern | Hill, in the Peninsula campaign, the rear | guard fighting back the Confederate advance | other to the right to cover the narrow high way and give the wounded and the strsgglers an opportunity to close up. Across the fields whick were broken and wooded, advanced the snemy's skirmishers, followed by a don ble line of battle. We checked them with 6 volley, but they reformed and charged with a cheer. I could see their faces very plainly under the smoke, ,and as they rushed forward noticed that the man directly in front of me was not man but a stripling of 6 boy. He didn't look to be more than 15 years old, and his faced was white and scared. hsd 6 dead rest with musket, and this boy com- ing straight upon me. Had he been a man I should have killed him. I could have hit him with my eyes shut. When I saw that ii was a boy I couldn't fire upon him. I coy- cred him once, but his scared face turned my gun away.
 We let them come charging up until some of the more impetCous were almost over us, and then there was an awful crash of mus ketry, a great pillow of fame-a thousand cries and curses. The flame of death had licked up their lines. l was looking for the boy as the smoke lifted. He stood, musket in hand, looking about him as if paralyzsd. Every man had gone down for ten feet either side of him. As our cheers burst forth the boy faced around with the remnant of the line and retreated to cover. I rejoiced over his escape, and I hoped that if another charge was made he would not be with them. Half an hour passed, and now we were the rear guard-a brigade holding tine narrow road. We saw the enemy msssing for an- | other charge, and again we made ready to receive them. As came forward I saw tine | same white faced boy, this time little to my left"
 "Don't shoot that boyI" called to the men beyond me.
 The third man on the left was in line with
 the boy. He looked up at me with a ssr- donic smile, and then he rested his musket ! and covered the boy, to kill him when the
 word came to fire. An enemy was an enemy to him, whether man or boy. He was Lhere to kill held my breath ss the double line
 again advanced. A little closer, and they l fired a volley and then charged. They
 sought our desth-they were following us io l destroy-they had no mercy. And yet, ss l | fired into the smoke, knowing that my bull
 let must find human target, was consoled by the reflection that was not shooting at l the boy-at somebody's boy. If he was killed it would be by the man on my left, and he must answer for it.
 The enemy could not budge us. They couldn't touch our Hanks, and @ charge in front was simply slaughter. Our volleys broke their lines, decimsted them, threw them into confusion, and they were breasted
 back again. Isprang to my feet and looked for the boy. The powder smoke swirled
 about, drove down, lifted up, foated away among the tree tops, and my heart bounded
 ss I saw somebody's boy again. He stood | with two comrades, the remnant, perhaps, of his whole company. Just as got glimpse of him the three turned to obey the call to
 retreat, and I swung my cap and cheered. | Our whole line was cheering, the others be-
 cause they had once more repulsed the ene- my, and because somebody's boy had again ' escaped.
 And when looked along our line to ths left, wondering how the man with the grin
 face and murderous heart had missed hil
 target, saw him lying dead on the ground
 stone dead. A bullet had struck him fair ir | the forehead.