Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-12-11
LETTERS FRoM.THE PEOPLE
An Incident of the second Battle of
Bull Run.


An Incident of the second Battle of
Bull Run.
Editor of the DEMocRAr:
Dear Sir-The incident of Gettysburg as
told in Wednesdays DENocRAr had indeed
a pleasant sequel. now communicate an
incident that happened TO the same bril-
gade, the Excelsior, at the battle of Bull
Run.
Among the regiments terribly decimated
at the second battle of Bull Run were those
belonging to Sickles' brigade, Kearney's
division, the Thirty Irish rifles.
Held in reserve during tbs fierce carnage
of the earlier part of the day they had only
seen the battalions of stretcher-bearers and
trains of ambulances loaded with their
groaning burdens. Late in the afternoon
came the orders to 60 to the front. The
drum corps, contrary to custom, accom-
panied the brigade into the line of fire.
Army drummers were generally the widest
of the wild, but Tommy Gowan was
worthy to be branded the widest boy in
New York. Less than twelve years old.
street arab. with all the most hideous de-
fects of his clan. even the tenderness that
soldiers generally felt for their boyish pets
of the drum corps extended not to him.
The order was given to dislodge the enemy
holding a section of woods and under
brush. The position was very strong and
INSTRUCTED by all the contrivances of the
engineer. Three times the brigade
charged up to the jaws of the cannon, and
each time was rolled back like paper
shriveled in the FIRE. Again the officers
marshalled them into a line of attack. A
deadly storm from the yawning hell of ar
tillery again tore through the broken.
bleeding ranks. The last of the color
guard, the fifth man who had appraised the
shot through the heart. 1t was critical
moment. The officers could hardly make
themselves heard in the horrid din. The
line wavered and shook, as a wild i'm
pressible panic shot through the hearts
that had thrice charged on those appalling
woods with such a lavish waste of life. At
this moment the drummer boy, Gowan.
rushed forward seized the dishonored
colors from the earth, and facing the regi-
ment, backed toward the enemy for several
rods. The hero's heart, under all the foul
rags and tatters that had swathed and
buried it out of sight, burst through its
bonds under the inspiration of that terri
BILE momeut. The gutter snipe that had
grown like a toadstool out of the slums of
the five points, was TRANSPORTED into the
semblance of a demi-god, with the light of
heaven and martyrdom shining on his
brow. Shrilly he shrieked, as he waved
the ponderous colors over his head: Come
on boys, you would not desert the old
flag" and the next moment tumbled into n
lifeless heap. literally torn in two by a
| shell. The Irish regiment gave one frantic
yell of wrath that stilled the rafting fusil-
AIDES, and swept on with the impetus of an
! avalanche. Nothing human could endure
before that frenZied onset, and in a mo-
ment the Confederates were hunted back
in rout and confusion. The name of
young Gowan is carved on no marble tab
| let, stamped on no medal of honor and
was mentioned but by two newspapers, yet,
| in memory of all who witnessed that trans
cendent outburst of the gallant and heroic
| through corrupt and callous crust, il
sends n burning thrill through all the
nerves at the recurring thought. Victor
Hugo could put in the mouth of Cam
bronze the foulest of words to express his
boundless despair and rage when ordered
to surrender the shattered fragment of the
old guard at Waterloo; he could make
| Gaveroch die at the barricades of Paris
with the gay laugh quivering on his
shrunken lips. But he never conceived
anything more supremacy grand than the
death of that Irish drummer boy of the
| Thirty seventh Irish rifles.
| Thrice up against their battery
| We rushed TO the attack,
| And thrice with fearful slaughter
| Our lines were driven back;
| Once more our colonel marshalled us,
And on we rushed again.
But torn and shattered. back recOlled
| With scarcely half our men.
A cry of terror thrilled the ranks,
| And wavered the brigade;
| Before their hattering guns We stood
| Pale. painting and dismayed.
| The last man OF the color guard
His death shot there had found.
| And close beside. his battle flag
Lay torn upon the ground.
Fast flashed the red artillery
| Our bleeding columns through.
And thick and fast to earth they fell,
| Our gallant men in blue;
| 4 shuddering thrill. an icy chill
| Through every bosom runs.
| As faster fell the shot and shell
| From the Confederate guns.
Twas then an Irish drummer boyi e
| Too young for such scene. -
Stepped proudly to the foremost ranks
| Dressed in his Jacket green.
| And snatched from earth the tattered llag
That lay all CORY there.
| Regardless of the kissing shell
| That hurtled through the air.
Proudly before the foemen guns
He waved that flag on high.
| His face lit up. his fearless soul
| ShOne in his flashing eye.
| The light of heaven and martyrdom
| Beamed in his glowing face,
| As il at once were conferred there
The fire of all his race.
Shame on YOU boys will you desert
| The old flag to the foe?
Come on! who shrinks before his guns,
Or fears his rebel bl9y55
| Charge for our own old nag again,
| With fearless voice he said
| A moment more and in his gore
The drummer boy lay dead.
We heard him shout We saw him fall
| The green flag in his hand.
| We Eazed upon his boyiSh face;
| So fearless. proud and grand.
| And from our ranks there burst yell
| For blood. revenge. or death,
| As if the Internal tiends OF he'll