The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1894-09-02

III SUCH uOlOEOAS TIMES LubEG IS no
chance for respite; no place for humauiz-
ing cOmpaniOuship; no moments for more
than the dumb and ceaseless effort TO do
and live and kill.
Yet if IL were possible TO intensity the
terrible strain upon mental and physical
being into keener activity, ] know that
the added impetus ever came to me, not
from the shouts of victory above the
grOaus of the dying but from those hum
bier and 10 my bOyish nature subtler
promptings TO valorOus savagerv, IN the
approving words, glances or smiles of the
officers and men about me.
Look at the fire in Little Buttons
eye.' Corporal Burr would laughingly
halloa TO the men Of the right or left sec.
ton guns, as we were warming up to
some rafting engagement.
We took thirty-seven positions at
Peachtree" Corporal Ez Carter would
proudly retort. as he cut in two bar of
Daisy Dean, which he was endlessly
ana plainuvely whistliug or singing in
battle or out, and Little Buttons never
lost his grip at the guns wheel, never
missed a tight vent and never got ratified
with his lanyard !'
No. and he never squealed when the
big Johnnie yanked him, that day, over
his gun and was bringin' his sabre down
on him like shcin' sOw-belly, an Irish
Dennis shot the big confed over him, an
they stuck there in the blood on the siz-
zlln' gun together,' snOrted kreem Har-
ford, our brawny No. !, chucking me uu-
der the chin and smiling encoura gingly
into the already set features Of my tiny
boyish face
Faith, if we'd had Little Buttons at
Aughrim-sure that's over agin Ballinas-
loe-'' Serg. McGee would add with back
ward prophecy and wise and solemn
smile, Gould lrelaud'd be Ould Ireland
STILL an not be Deggared up"
And so the running fire Of half satire
and half compliment would fash among
the guns or between the limbers and
caissons, or be taken up by the sprawling
Positions while Big Andy, the German
bugler, grave as a kaiser, would polish
his bugle on his sleeve or silently nip com
forting pinches of SNUFF, and Capt Cooper.
Lleuts. Cunningham and Pratt, ana even
handsome Orderly Sergeant Powers,
would look around upon their men as if to
say, We're not all regulation size, nor
age, nor dress; but we're fighters. lads,
Little Buttons one and allu or still be-
stow on me a glance half of pity and
half of affection; all of whch-and never
the thrill of victory or the triumph in a
brave enemys defeat-kept my dimiuu-
tive being and childish spirit in logged
tensest key.
say these things because l always
look back upon that time and upon that
soldier lad almost as a separate and dis
tlnct personality from those in which |
have ever really existed and also in the
nature of confession of meritless boyish
fOolhardineSS which won me whatever
the rough and kindly natures
about me had in their inclination or
power to bestow
In the listless and idle September and
October days that followed Sherman's
great victory, which was really the be-
ginning of the end of the American civil
war, battery d. was encamped with
various other commands near the hamlet
OF East Point, few miles south of the
city of Atlanta.
Old Charlie and the little flag had been
returned TO me; and to the trifling duties
of guidon had been added the more oner-
Gus camp life eXactions of company clerk.
In this capacity | carried and brought the
mail to and from army corps headquar-
tiers, delivered and often received the vol
luminous reports and brief orders, and, in
fact, gradually became sort of gen
eral orderly for our officers and mounted
errand-boy for our droning roadside
camp.
This often brought me on various tri-
fling missions within the captured city.
While its activities were very great
sherman s reorganization of his
army and the extensive preparations for
his still secretly planned march TO the
sea, they were military activities alone;
and to me, boy though | was, the half
ruined public ediices, the dismantled
forts, the barred or silent and empty
shops, the avenues of leyeled elms and
lines, the shell-ridden churches, schools
and warehouses, and above all the dreary,
ghostly homes. closely shattered and
barred or transformed into slatternly
barracks for our soldiers, were among the
saddest spectacles of the war.
This was intensified and still more
deeply embittered by the utter failure of
my chivalrous mission for the discovery
and rescue of Beatrice.
This charge had grown upon me as the
sacred Mecca OF my childish aspiration
That white face of the father had haunted
me reprovingly The beautiful and inno-
cent face of his daughter had beckoned
me on.
Every shot or shell which had leaped
from our believing guns upon the doomed
city seemed to my overweight fancy a
mortal challenge to her tender life. Even
when the cry, ATLANTA is ours ~ wentup
from an hundred thousand Threats, il
stllled my heart and chOked my tongue.
Beatrice hopeful and innocent, Beatrice
helpless and alone, Beatrice ground be.
tween the merCileSs teeth of war, fitted
through my dreams, whispered encourage
ment in the very ping of bullets beside
my head, hung like the flaming Virgin in
the rapt pictures of the masters, tOated
splrlt-like within and above the smoke of
our cannon and took on dolorous aud
awful forms in every grewsome change of
cloud hung battle.
Never did old Charles hoofs ring out
such impatient staccatO as when he bore
me 10 the ancient mansion where had
found Signor Bellinrs conservatory TO be
located. Never did his laggard hoofs so
drive despairiug echoes into riders heart,
as when we turned away from the place,
now transformed into army engineers
headquarters, where smart sentries were
pacing the broad portico or lettering be-
side the silent fountains.
Then followed weeks Of fruitless, heart
deaGening search.
The tluJter of every woman's gown, the
fash Of every woman's hand, the half
caught glimpse of every womans face.
startled me on and on with the thrill of
hope which ever ended in a desolate papg
of utter dread and loss
Back at the camp, where l had become
haggard, moody and silent, one day Corp
Ez Carter stopped his tender numbers of
Daisy Deaue" long enough TO remark in
q melancholy tone TO some comrades
near:
The campaign was too much for Little
Buttons He's going Off all in a heap."
Then the boys began to regard me more
closely. The rough fellows would edge