Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1894-03-02
Last Grand GrappIe.

The man who tells you that WltnOuU
Buell. Grant would have been lost at
Shiloh did not see the last grand Crap
pie on Sunday night 1t was while
waiting for this final struggle that l
saw the grandest sight, save one, that
! witnessed during the entire war.
We were placed head downward
on hillside, with battery or more
of guns at the top We are facing the
west Looking out through the open
ings the sunshine falls bright and clear
on everything. Looking to the right
or left we see battalions forming and
artillery going into position A lull in
the crash and roar of battle; its still
ness is oppressive.
Looking away out yonder-see the
flashing, cleaning sunshine on the
polished steel in front and on the
fianks-it is the coming of the enemy!
In close columns by division, with
flags futtering and its army moving
en- echelon. See how distinct every
rifle barrel, bayonet and saber, like
the CLEAN of silver and simmer of
brass! In the very front is a regiment
of Zouaves. A grander sight no man
ever saw than this coming of the Con-
federate army. We see the swinging
motion noticeable when great bodies
of men move together. Thus comes
this human battering.ram, with artn-
lery trailing in its ranks, presenting
the appearance of huge monster
clothed in folds of flashing steel.
On comes the enemy, in its grand,
full pride, sure of crushing tire beaten,
broken army of the Tennessee, in per-
feet step with arms at right-shoulder-
shift, seemingly conscious of It's
might. With blare of band and bugle
the line advances. We see it coming
and wonder if some one will raise
white flag.
load my gun and lie fiat on the
ground head downward; with teeth
tightly closed l await what seems our
sure defeat. Behind the front line
comes another, and still another. The
woods are alive with them. On they
come; soon their lines begin to unfold
and develop; these movements are eX-
ecuted with exact step and arms still
at rights
| live an age in moment. We are
startled by cannon shot above us--a
signal for more. 1t is answered by
binding fash-a mighty roar; the
earth trembles; something strikes me;
darkness falls about me; smoke and
leaves and twigs and gravel and earth
fill the air. / start up afrighted,
wondering if the heavens and earth
are coming together. 1t is the good
evening" of Websters great guns
above us to the bold, defiant Confel-
crate host. Artillery along the lines
opens, and the final struggle has be-
gun.
No white flag there Our cannoneers
are planting their shrapnel where it
will do the most harm, and it falls
amid the crowded mass of the enemy
as true os if it had been carried by
hand. The smoke before us lifts and
we see beneath it the lines of the
enemy with great gaps torn in them,
closing up and still advancing. We
open upon them line fire; the guns
behind us are still throwing caseshot;
the roar deafens and the smoke blinds
us for time. Again it lifts, and we
the awful fire it faces. The gunboats
take up the fight, but on comes that
determined line until only a corporal's
guard remains We look again. 1t
has vanished-goue! Another pushes
on, to disappear like the first. Our
line is blaze of fret is volcano.
1t hurls defiance with its shot at the
proud, splendid bravery of the enemy,
who die but refuse TO retreat.
The fight becomes fiendish; the enc
my concentrates his fire, and brings
into action every available man and
gun. Arms are no longer at the right
shoulder, but are being used by ex-
perienced men. The stubborn resis-
lance of the seemingly beaten Federal
army is surprise to the legions of
--Beauregard, who can neither crush
nor dislodge the blue. The gray line
trembles, almost, as it halts, waivers
for moment and then suddenly falls
back, the few that are left firing as
they go, until the supporting line is
reached. Then we see real discipline
in battle. The retreating line halts,
closes up, reforms on its support
Gee HOW uelloeTdJe anu Aull Oh &c
ton it becomes, maddened at the re-
pulse, and burning to avenge their
fallen comrades. The fiery sons Of
the South are again in perfect form
ready TO hurl themselves with their
angry impetuosity against their tired
but undaunted foe. For a moment
the gray line is motionless; then all at
once IL leans forward with a mighty
yell, and sweeps across the bloody
space separating The blue from the