The National tribune., 1901-06-13

tnlng SO rlOlculOuS or COmlcaf as, eva
under such circumstances, to evoke
laugh.
Maj. Schaumberger, an officer Of ou
brigade, who had seen service in the Prus
sian army, tall, fine-looking and resplen
dent in a brand new uniform, stood jus
in rear of the line, nonchalantly smokin
| his briar-wood, not even ducking his hea
| when minie-ball tipped unpleasantl
near. Some one said, You'd better ge
down, Major"
"We don't do dat in de Prussian army,
said he, in bis broken English. DE
would call me Won coward" Just then
bullet cut piece of cloth out of his coat
"De dirty loafers," he said, angrily; "de
want to sphoil my new uniform3
Whether he was wounded that day o
later on in the campaign, l don't know
but the following extract from ''Honors o
the Empire State in the War OF the Re
bellion," tells the whole story, so far a
this gallant soldier is concerned.
"Leander Schaumberger, Major of tn
18th n. Y. III. A, died of wounds Ma.
q, 1854" only Is days later. All homo
to the noble dead!
The day dragged slowly, monotonousl.
on-the monotony Of hideous music ant
Of continued, down-pouring rain.
Col. Kitching, our Colonel, commandin,
tho brigade, walked slowly along the line
a pleasant smile lighting up his smooth
boyish face, now and then dropping ;
word of cheer and encouragement to hi!
lads" as he invariably called his men
who, suffering all the horrors OF inactiOn
aggravated by the diScomforts of their po
sition, were ready to do and to die to wiz
the applause of him they loved so well.
Night at length drew her sable mantle
over the scene, but even then the fighting
did not cease. Occasionally there was
lull for few moments, and we would be
gin to feel that the trouble for the da,
was over, when another yell and another
cheer would again start the mischief go
ing, the flashing of musketry lighting III
the darkness.
Wrapped in drifts Of lurid smoke
On the misty evening air.
And now occurred one of those unac
countable misunderstanding or miscon
ceDtion Of orders that sometimes happened
on the field Of battle. The order had beer
given for the brigade to advance to the frs
line TO relieve the troops in front who had
been fighting from early morning; but il
the blackness of night, the gloom of the
woods, the still-falIing rain and the foe
and battle-smoke hanging low over the
field, only few heard or understood the
command. Part of my company, strange
as it may seem, disappeared like magic
while the rest Of US wandered around like
"babes lost in the woods"
Serg't Little and l kept together, anC
after an hour or so of fruitless endeavol
to find the company, rolled ourselves in oul
wet blankets in the effort to get an houl
or two of much-needed Sleep Scarcely
however, had we begun to feel little
comfortable when a bullet struck in the
ground within foot of Little's head, spat
tering us with mud
This will never do; we must get out OF
this" said he; so we got gp and pushed
still farther to the rear, and never ceased
our wanderings the whole miserable might
through. Soon as it became light enough
we struck out for the front and succeeded
very soon in finding the company. The
works were substantially built, and SO long
as we kept under cover we were all right
but to show ones head above the top log
meant almost certain death.
We have all read in history the story
Of that terrible 18th of May, perhaps the
fercest, If not the most sanguinary, battle
of the war. We have read descriptions
of the field as it appeared on the morning
following, but no description, no power OF
Imagination, can do justice to the awful
ness of scene so dreadful Men in the
agonies of death, groaning beneath the
dead bodies of their comrades" "at times
lifted arm or a quiyering limb telling OF
an agony not yet quenched by the Lethe
of death around"
Old soldiers are proverbially fond OF
fighting their battles DER" and some
times. perhaps, in their eagerness to in
fuse into the mind of the listener n part
of their own commendable enthusiasm, as
well as to convey a proper appreciation
of what the soldier did and suffered
stretch the truth just a leetle mite. I do
not, however, class myself among these
prevaricators, harmless though they be,
for | can safely say that, in relating any
incident or eyent of the war which came
under my own notice, | have invariably
Kept as closely within the bounds of truth
as due regard for veracity and the honor
of the soldier would admit; but when /
tell the story of that tree, % inches in
diameter, which stood in the angle of the
works at Spottsylvania, and which, during
the fighting of that eyer-memorable 18th
day of May, was so riddled with bullets
that during the following night it fell with
crash, injuring a number of a South
Carolina regiment, / do it with the feel
ing that my auditors wink and nod at
each other, as if to say, How those old
soldiers will lier'
Yet that story, incredible as it may
seem, is mo dream" 1t is part of his
tory, Just as much as the battle itself
anu as worthy Ol CTeueHce as any Otner
remarkable incident of an unprecedented
war.
A little story, well Known, connected
with the capture of Johnston's Division in
that early morning charge, il so well
worth repeating that cannot deny myself
the qualification of ending this article
with it.
Gen. George II. Stewart, one of the
Brigadiers captured. was an old army
friend of Gen. Winfield S. Hancock, the
hero of Spottsylvania. When brought be
fore the latter as prisoner of war, Han
cock extended his hand and cordially in
quired: How are you, Stewart?' to
which the latter replied with freezing
hauteur: "Sir, l am General Stewart, Of
the Confederate army, and under the cir
cumstances l refuse to take your hand"
"And under any other circumstances,
General" replied Hancock, 81 would not
have offered it."