Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1890-10-16
WAR "REMINISCENCES.
THE BLOODIEST BATTLE.

A Southern Editor Declares That 1t Was
Fought at Franklin, Tenn.
Several of our exchanges are discus
sing with various opinions ''the blood
lest battle in history" 1t is recorded
that Grant in one hour lost 10, 900 killed
and wounded at Cold Harbor, but he had
nearly 100, 900 to lose that number from
10 per cent in sixty minutes. General
Hood, just before sunset, November 80,
1864, moved about IL, 900 Confederates,
all told, against the strong breast-works
at Franklin, Tenn, where his casualties
were reported 6,SOO-or about so per
cent in twenty-five minutes.
At Franklin the Union soldiers under
General Schofeld were intrenched to
the chin. A half-dozen forts belched
their thunder from as many hill-tops-
long lines of abattis and cheveaux de
frise impeded every assault-all round
the works shrapnel and grape swept
down the Confederate ranks from fiery
embrasures as our rapidly thinning
lines advanced through an open field at
shoulder arms.
The casualties of this little army may
be estimated when it is stated that the
Confederates lost thirteen Generals, kill
ed, wounded and missing. Down this
red valley of death rode no drawer sol
dier than General George w. Gordon
the youngest Brigadier in our Western
army. We can see him in fancy now, as
we saw him then for the first time,
mounted on fiery steed, his long hair
swept backward by the breath of battle,
as he rode into that maelstrom of iron
hail He went over the works and was
captured. There fell, his noble breast
pierced through, the invincible Pat
Cleburne, the idol of his division as of
his State. General John Adams and his
horse fell dead together across the enc
my's breastwOrks. General Thomas NJ.
Scott was endorsed by the explosion of
a shell.
The readers will pardon the egotism
Tor the we-gotism) if the writer states
that just twenty years afterwards (NO-
vember, 1884 he revisited the field of
Franklin. There on the right still stood
the old gin where gathered the central
whirlwind of that November storm.
Across the open fields leading from the
McGavock residence our doomed battal-
ions marched Along that line of fence
beyond his house the brave ranks were
formed. We looked backward across the
tide Of twenty fateful years, recalling
the then light heart and thoughtless
words of youthful ardor as we moved
into the fight. We saw through mist
of unbidden tears the unreturning brave
who, in the face of that leaden doom,
with daantless tread passed lover the
perilous edge of battle to the harvest
home of death"-swept in the twinkling
of an eye from our sight forever into the
shoreless gulf. We wondered as we sat
there and recalled that terrible day how
we could have been so thoughtless and
uncOncerned. AS we formed in line to
move upon the foe youthful eyes flashed
fire and downy cheeks flushed with the
rapture of the coming fight. All, as we
looked upon loved ones then for the last
time, knowing that death lurked just
over the hill, why did we not pause long
enough to clasp one another in long
embrace!
Revisiting the sweeping plateaus
which we had seen for the first twenty
years before, and only for few minutes
in the stormy charge, we could almost
recall every spot passed over in the
fight, as one gathers up the fragments
of broken dream. Surely yonder is
the spot where the writer fell. Here,
without doubt, beneath this friendly
oak the mimic was cut from the flesh
where "our friends, the enemy" had
embedded it. We know this surgeons
rendezvous" full well-for along this
pathway we passed to the friendly shell
ter of Colonel John McGavock's house.
There it stands as it stood then-twen-
ty years ago. How dear to the old 'rebel"
heart is the name of Colonel John Nc
Gavock and his family! How many torn
and bleeding bodies were borne into his
asylum. Through all the long night
the good man assisted by his wife and
daughters bent like ministering angels
above the dying and the dead.
Every thing they had God bless themD
was devoted to their thousand deeds of
mercy. But words lose their native
force as in memory we go back to that
night of their ceaseless ministrations.
In this room died Colonel Nelson, of
the Twelfth Louisiana. Both legs were
crushed by cannon ball and his bowels
torn by iron grape. Poor fellow! Such
agony for several hours few men ever
endured His eyes, through exhaustion
caused by pain, sank deep back into his
head before death came to his relief
''Give me forty grains of morphine"
he called out all through the night, give
me forty grains of morphine and let me
die. Oh can't / die? Is it so can
not die? My poor wife and child-my
poor wife and child"
Hard soldier as the writer then was,
he went down the steps and far out be-
meath the stars to escape the prayers OF
the dying officer.
But to return. Over fifty per cent of
casualties in twenty-five minutes. Frank
lin was, indeed, the bloodiest battle of
modern or ancient history.
Those who now talk so fiippantly of
another war, perhaps had no experience
of the rst.-Jacksonville, Ella Stand
ard.
In recent lecture a professor O.
languages, in commenting on the diff
culties foreigners had to overcome be-
fore they could master our language,
made mention of the following oddities:
The letter changes lover into clover,
d makes a crow a crowd, k makes eyed
keyed, g changes son into song, / trans
forms pear into pearl, s changes a
L - 3
and W makes omen women