Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1896-07-18
WAR "REMINISCENCES.
A CAMPFIRE YARN.

This is a story they tell of the boys
OF the Hundred and Twenty-ninth Illinois.
They had gone into camp at Peach Tree
creek
That time when the rebels were around
so thick
They never could tell, by night or by day.
When a sentry on duty would slip away
At the ping of hidden gun, or when
Stray bullets from ambush would strike
the men.
The place all about had an ugly name;
The boys couldn't get tn hang o. tn game
The rebs were playin'. Do you recollect
The lay o. the land down there? 1t was
fiecked
With groups of jackpines and silvery rills.
An bubblin' up into grassy hills.
With clump of underbrush here an there
Along the road by the cornfields fair
One picket post by the edge of the pines,
But a stones throw out from the Johnnie's
Was viewed by the fellows-they'd own 1t
here
With a sort of superstitious fear.
1t isn't so bad when soldier knows
He Is under the guns of bitter foes,
But it's hard to stand at q sentry post
And think you may meet with soldiers
ghost.
But, though they all knew In their cooler
times,
Twas n skulking reb from between the
lines
Who picked off the sentinels one by one,
They couldn't find out how the deed was
done.
Sometimes twas saber cut and again
The poor dead lad would have only a stain
Oozed up through the path of bit of lead
When the guard of relief found the picket
dead.
How 1t was managed they couldn't find
out,
But that twas done neatly there wasn't
doubt.
Tired and hungry and sort O. depressed
We went into camp, and perhaps you've
guessed,
Not one of us pined for the glory, at all.
OF serving as target for rebel ball
But one thing we knew: The picket down
there
Whatever the danger, was in our carei
Our captain looked grave and fairly broke
down,
AS up with salute went old Corp'ral Brown
"Capn," he said, Just you trust to the
boys
OF the Hundred and Twenty-nnth illinois,
If there's fightin' to do they'll fight, thet's
all,
An If it's to be. s'pose they can fall
Let the post be guarded by volunteers
And the boys came up with a round of
cheers.
And so twas arranged, and young Arling-
ton
Whistled bit as he shouldered his gun;
But as he marched down to the lonely
place
The burrows grew deep on his boyish face.
The awful stiffness grew into pail
And his brave heart quailed as he thought
of all
The pines might hide in their shadows so
grim,
And the hostile eyes that were marking
him.
a sound in the thicket, a moving branch,
And the soldier is waiting, erect and
stanch.
He creeps in the shade of tree and
breathes
| AS soft as the zephyrs upon the leaves
| A shape in the moonlight upon the ground.
| A stealthy movement. and then n sound
| OF a minfep%hirring past leaf and twig-
And the guardNrushed into murdered
pig.
'Tis story they tell of the gallant boys
| OF the Hundred and Twenty-ninth Illinois
| And hold 1t a truth, and you'll agree
| They were just as brave as they well could
| be.
| And they thought the ravens of Holy writ
| Had something to do with the end of it.
| For they had fresh meat when the watch
| was done,
And the joy of the camp was young Airing.
| ton.
! Grace Duff1e Boylan, in Chicago Journal