Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1894-01-20

in that fiery fog. an officer would spring
forward, and the dauntless ensign, as
if restored to life. would look down
again upon the battle.
Twenty-Five times it fell. Twenty
two times its staff. still warm rs it slip
ped from dying hand, was caught and
raised again, and when at sunset the
remnant of the regiment, a little hand
full of men. slowly retreated the flag
was but tattered rag in the hands of
Sergeant Hornus. the Twenty third en-
sign of the day.
This Sergeant HCrnus, an old fellow
who could scarcely sign. his name, had
been 90 years in gaining the rank of
a noncommissioued officer. The mis-
cries of the founding and the brutality
of the barracks had left their impress
in his low, Obstinate brow, his back bent
by the knapsack and that unserupu-
lous air of the trooper in the ranks. He
stammered little, too but eloquence
Is not essential in an ensign. That
same evening Of the battle his colonel
said to him. You have the flag, my
And on his shabby army coat, worn
and faded by rain and powder. the suit
Ter placed at once the golden badge of
the ensign. This was the one glory of
his life. From this time the old troop
er held up his head. The poor soul,
who heretofore had walked with bent
back and downcast glance, henceforth
stood proudly erect, with eyes ever
lifted to watch that scrap of cloth fut-
tering in the breeze. and to hold 1t very
high, very upright, above death, de-
feat and treachery.
Never WAS there man so happy as
Hornus when he stood on the battle
field, his hands clasped about his flag
staff in its leathern sheath. Silent,
motionless, grave as Il priest. one would
have said that he was holding some
thing sacred. His whole life, his whole
being, centered in the fingers gripped
about the beautiful golden rag upon
which the balls seemed to hurl them
selves, and his defiant eyes looked the
Prussians straight In the face as if to
say, Just try now to take it from mel
No one did try-not even death. After
those deadly battles of Borny and
Gravelotte, the flag left the field cut to
pieces, literally riddled with bullet
holes, but it was still old Hornus who
bore it. Then came September. the
army at Metz. the siege. and that long
encampment in the mud till the cannon
rusted, and the finest troops in the
world, demoralzed by inaction, by
lack Of provisions and of news, died in
the trenches of fever and despair and
deadly WEAKNESS Leaders and men
alike lost confidence. Hornus alone still
had faith. His tricolor rag was all the
world to him. and rs long as he kept
that it seemed to him that nothing was
lost.
Unfortunately, as there was no more
fighting, the colonel keptthe flag at his
quarters in one OF the suburbs of Metz,
and honest Hornus was very like a
mother whose child is out at nurse.
He thought Of it continually, and when
his longing for it became uncomfortable
he would rush off TO the colonel house,
where the mere sight OF his flag. rest
ing TRANQUILITY in its place against the
wall, would send him back with cour-
/ age renewed. to dream under his soak
ing tent of marches, of battles, of the
flag floating gayly down there on the
Prussian trenches.
An order OF Marshal Bazaine destroy
ed these illusions. One morning Her
nus awoke to find the camp in an up
roar, the soldiers in excited groups
shouting and talking angrily and ges-
ticulating toward one part Of the town.
"OH with him! Shoot hint" they
cried. and the officers. walking apart
with heads bowed i'll shame before the
men. let them talk on unheeded
1t twas indeed shameful, To $50. 600
well armed. altebodied men had JUST
been read an order surrenqerng them
to the enCEr without blow.
And the flags demanded Hornus.
THE flags were surrendered with the
rest-the guns, the remains of the
wagon trains everything. "
"Th-th-thunder! 'stammcred the poor
fellow, they shan keep mine. p"
And ho set off on the run toward that
side of the town. There, too. all was
confusion. National guards. civilians
and gardes mobiles were walking
about. Populations passed, trembling,
on their way to the marshal's house.
Hornus saw nothing. heard nothing.
He hurried up the street, inuttering to
himself:
To take my flag from mel Come
now, can this &c possible? Let him
give the Prussians what is his own-his
silver plate and bis gilded coaches-but
this is mine. 1t is my honor. forbid
any one to touch it. -
His sentences were broken up by
his hurried pace and his stammering
tongue; but, after all. the old fellow
had a plan. a clear ard fixed purpose to
take his flag, to carry it into the midst
of the regiment. and with any who
would follow him to fall upon the Prus-
slams and destroy them utterly. When
he reached the colonels house, he was
not even allowed to enter. The colonel
too. was furious and would admit no
one, but Hornus did not understand
this. He wept, he swore. he tried to
push past the orderly.
My flag. want my ilagr' he
shouted.
Finally window was thrown open.
1T is you, Hornns %
Yes, colonel-I''-
"All the flags are at the arsenal.
You have only TO go there FOR a re-
ceipt."
A RECEPTION what"
1T is the marshal's order
But, colonel''-
Gimp acer' and down went
the window.
Old Hornus staggered like a drunken
man.
a receipt. A receipt. he repeated
mechanically. Finally he went off
with but one clear idea IN his head
that his flag was at the arsenal. and
that. come what would, he must see it
again.
The arsenal gates were opened wide