The enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 188?-1899, 1898-08-10


plan to desert.
Was 1t a ghost? Well, what else
could 1t have been? Was it the spirit
of my dead wife? No! my wife didn't
die. Could it have been any soldier
playing trick? Tricks Of that kind
were never played in war time. Give
it any name you will, but it prevented
me from deserting, saved my good
name, and l have always felt that /
owed it a debt Of gratitude.
The Private's Story.
had a brother in the south when
the war broke out, and as he was young
and hot-headed, 1 did not doubt that he
would cast his fortunes on that side
and be early in the field. got no word
from him, and for the first two years
was at the front on the union side
used to inquire Of all confederate
prisoners l could get at as to Tom.
One day l learned that he was a pri-
vate in IN Alabama regiment, and that
we had been opposed in three different
battles. A month later, as Sherman
began advancing on Atlanta, two COM
panies of my regiment were detailed
to guard bridge. We had block
house and dirt fort, and we easily
beat off small detachments of confed-
crates who tried to rout us out. One
day, however, force of four times our
strength suddenly confronted us, and
after hotfight we lost the fort. Those
of us defending it fell back into the
woods and kept up flank fire. The
enemy could not get at us on account
of big ravine, and the fight finally
degenerated into sharp-shooting.
About so men on each side took cover
behind trees and logs and rocks and
shot to kill.
was down behind log. Opposite
me was confederate behind tree.
We were after each other, and no one
else. l soon discovered that he had
something better than an army mus
ket, and that he was dead shot.
had got ia two shots which made him
lie close when he sent ball through
my hat. 1t passed four inches above
my scalp, but it made my hair curl
and sent shiver over me. My next
shot was fired at the mans elbow as
he rested his gun on the side of the
tree, and | saw the cloth fly from his
coatsleeve. A minute later he gave me
Il bullet which filed my eyes with
dirt, and after cleaning them l crept
along at the end of the log, hoping
to get flank shot. The confederate
suspected my little game and shifted
to another tree. could see bit of
his right shoulder, however, and
aimed for it. My bullet got so close
to his hide as to burn him, and he be-
gan to have more respect for my skill.
All this time there were others firing
away on both sides of us, and hot
fight raging around the blockhouse. I
had two other confederates in plain
sight from where lay, but was after
the chap in front. 1t was a sort Of
duel, you see, and each felt that his
honor was at stake. AS to its being
murderous business l am agreed,
though soldiers dutyfs to kill and
take chances of being killed. After my
shot at the fellows shoulder he
dropped to his knees, and then I knew
we both realized the full peril of the
position. Neither of us could move
head or body dozen inches without
exposing himself to fatal shot. We
lay thus for q couple Of minutes, and
then | stuck my head out and gave him
chance at my hat. He sent bull
let through it, and l hoped to "get
him" as he lowered his gun to reload.
He was too cute, however. What l
did do was to astonish him. My re-
turn bullet struck the barrel of his
gun, glanced from that to the beech
tree behind which he was crouching,
and from the tree knocked the cap
off his head and entered the earth.
That was the last shot fred. AS ws
lay watching each other we heard
a great cheering, and presently came
to know that the blockhouse had sur.
rendered. That meant that we were
all prisoners of the confederate force,
As l rose up and stepped out the
sharpshooter opposed to me did the
same thing. After we had looked at
each other for half minute he began
to approach me. He came slowly on,
and by and by reached me, and held
out his hand and said:
after your first shot I felt quite
sure of your identity. How are you,
old man, and how's the folks at home?"
"And | was all the time wondering
if 1t were not you," l replied. "The
folks are well, and if you have any.
thing in that canteen hand it over"
1t was my brother Tom, and for half
an hour we had been trying our best
to kill each other.
Bees as Weapons OF War.
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