The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1897-11-05
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COPYRIGHT BY AMERICAN PRESS ASSOCIATION 1894
Never was there a more gallant deed
than that performed by Steve Brayton,
and never was hero more heartily ap-
plauded by friend and foe., He galloped
his horse straight at the woman, and as
he came up to her he leaned over in the
saddle, caught her with both hands, and
next instant she was on the saddle be-
fore him, and the horse was flying back
to the Federal lines. The woman fought
and screamed, and fragments of burst
ing shell whizzed and whirred around
and above horse and riders, but they
dashed into the lines unhurt, and the
gallant rescuer was directed to continue
down the road until the woman could
be placed beyond danger.
Turn quick to the south! You will
never see grander spectacle than this.
The Confederate command, divided in
to three divisions, with double lines
dressed as if on parade, has received the
order to advance. They had waited for
Custer to charge, but the chevalier was
also a strategist. His artillery, being
better served, was creating the most
havoc, and he could afford to delay.
Look! Look! AS the gray horsemen be-
gin to move Clusters guns, which have
been grouped in front of his center,
timber up and move at gallop-four
of them-two to the right and two to
the left. In three minutes they are on
his fanks and loaded with grapeshot
and canister. The Confederate battery
does not follow the example, and as the
horsemen move forward the guns are
useless.
"Trot! Gallop! Charge!'
You hear the bugles sound the order,
sunset as 1000 horsemen thunder over
the plain. Give them credit for brav-
cry even to recklessness. Before the
horses are off trot the murderous grape
shot are knocking them down by dozens,
and as the artillerists change to canister
2,000 Federal carbines also open fire.
rally! Reform! For ward!"
Above the roar of cannon and mus
kerry you can catch the notes of the
bugles, and as the smoke lifts here and
there in spots the eye can detect the gray
horsemen seeking to obey the calls.
They do rally. They do reform. They
do push forward under that terrible
fire, but only to be broken up and swept
aside. The Federal a1tillerists get the
order to cease firing, the crackle of mus
kerry dies away, and five minutes later
the smoke has drifted off, and the eye
can scan the plain. Beaten, broken,
slaughtered, and yet the gray horsemen
are trying to rally again!
Now is the moment, and Custer has
waited for it. Only the dead and
wounded are left behind as he moves
out. as his entire command sweeps
straight across the plain and falls upon
the broken and disorganized enemy.
They rally here and there by the score
and meet the shock. They fight. .singiy
and by twos and threes. Men wait and
die rather than run away. Brave men,
all of them-men whose deeds will be
spoken of around our campfres for years
to come. The only criticism will be
that they did not have leader equal to
Custer in the murderous art of war.
Night has fallen, and the fight is over.
There are prisoners to be guarded,
wounded to be cared for, dead to be
counted for the official report and spoils
to be gathered up. The clouds have
driven away to the east, and the canopy
of heaven is studded with bright stars.
There is no moon, and the blood spots
on the snow gradually fade away and
are lost to sight.
Hark! That sound is the cry or
wounded men blended. into one great
wall for succor. 1t is freezing cold, and
they are in torture. Hark again! That
grewsome sound rising at intervals
above the walling comes from the
wounded horses. They are also begging
and pleading. Some are llmping about
among the dead and wounded men as if
seeking their masters, pausing now and
then to rub their cold noses against a
body, while others are lying down and
lift their heads only to utter whinny
which tells of fright and pain. Thank
God that night and darkness come to
the battlefield to hide its horrors! In
the darkness we shall search out all the
wounded, but we shall not be forced to
look upon. the mangled dead-mangled
by shot and shell and grape and the iron
hoofs of the charging horses until re-
semblance to humanity is lest and one
cries out in horror.