Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1904-05-28
CIVIL WAR MEMORIES
Of a Boy Who Was Too
Young to Enlist.
A TIME OF ANXIETY |!
WHAT THE CONFLICT MEANT TO
A LITTLE VILLAGE.
All Eager for News From the Front
Soldiers Graves strewn
With Flowers.
A TIME OF ANXIETY


our town very WE'LL" said the man who was
a boy in the sixties, land I remember the
decoration of soldiers graves with flowers
long before the custom was concentrated
on one day as it is now.
IT was born just too late to do any fight
ing In the civil war, and I was almost
broken hearted because I was so young.
Both my older brothers went to the front
early in the contest, and later my father
followed them.
IT remember too" he continued. "how
the first company of volunteers from our
neighborhood marched from the village
down to the railroad station to take the
train for the county seat where they were
to be mustered in.
"All but my big brother Jim in our fam
lily drove into the village from the farm to
see them off. Jim was one of the volun-
teers. My mother was in tears much of the
time, my father was very serious minded
and even Sam, the second brother, seven
teen, and generally full Of the old Nick,
was quieter than usual.
ITO me it was great day, for was not
to see real soldiers for the first time in my
life on that day, all dressed up in .regi-
mentals, with guns on their shoulders
nghting men, who were to march away
proudly erect, and confident in their ability
to whip the enemy the very first time the
two armies met? 1 had been longing for
that day ever since the fall of Sumter.
Personal pride was added to my elation,
because Jim was to be one Of the fighting
men.
Not Like Real Soldiers.
"Well, I saw the real soldiers right
enough when they marched away, but they
didn't look like real soldiers to me. The
sight Of our volunteers was. in fact, the
first shattering of an illusion for me. In
stead of wearing smart regimentals.' as
had expected, they all had on citizens
clothes; some of them were dressed in their
day-go-to-meetings, to be sure, but
more were their everyday buds; and they
didn't march bit as l thought they would.
They went in pairs all right. but they just
walked along, without keeping step or any
display of military bearing. There was no
band. either, only a snare drum, beaten by
Uncle Wallingford, who had been drum
mer in the Mexican war, and a fife blown
time, by the young fellow. who had taught
the village school thea winter before.
''Wh6n the train came along they all
piled IN any old way The whole thing
outraged my boyish notions of the manner
in which fighting men should start for
the war. er
81 had read in the history books about
the fortitude shown by the mothers of
fight and 1 was especially ruffled by the
goodbye sobs that were heard here and
there from the mothers and wives and
sweethearts. There was nothing Spartan
about the partings, as had hoped there
would be. One big fellow among the VOL
unteers, / remember broke down and cried
outright, but most of them were impatient
of the tears. Not one in twenty of them
thought they were likely to have much real
fighting; I'm morally sure there wasn't one
who realized In the least what he was like
ly to encounter in the south.
Talking Over the News.
my most vivid memories of the weeks
Immediately following the departure Of the
volunteers from the village have to do with
the nightly gatherings at the post Office and
at the houses of the neighbors. Word from
the front and the volunteer camps reached
our village mainly through the 'Seemi-
Weekly Trybune, as we used to call Mr..
Greeley's newspaper and on two nights of
the week some member of the party would
read the war news out to the others; nights
when there was no paper there were hot
discussions of the situation. Often, also,
there was reading of letters from the vol
unteers, who for long time were held in
camp at the county seat, much to their
disgust, waiting for guns and uniforms.
Just before they finally got away my big
brother Jim got leave of absence for one
day and came home to see us. He had his
uniform then-a loose blouse-like jacket of
cheap dark blue cloth that fitted him
wretchedly, lighter blue trousers and the
worst-looking shoes I had ever seen. He
didn't look nearly as trim and neat as the
soldiers do nowadays In my eyes the only
redeeming feature about his uniform was
the brass buttons on his blouse
After the boys got away to the front
their letters came oftener for while and
a little later the 'Seemi- Weekly began to
give news of real fighting. Only small
slkirmishes at first. to be sure, but genuine
hostile meetings all the same.
A Wonderful Joke.
There was village wag who, for a
time, when reading the news, used to in
terpolate incidents of his own imagining.
One night he read wholly fictitious story,
telling how Hiram Wilbur, great hulkng
young farmer Of the neighborhood, had
been hit by cannon ball. which,, read the
wag, had lodged in his chest and could
not be removed, though the surgeons at
tached to half dozen regiments were work
ing at 1t. This story was swallowed whole by
some of the post Office crowd, and applaud
ed as wonderful joke by the minimizing.
Some Of the older men, though. my
father among them, discouraged that sort
of thing. They thought we were likely soon
to get news SO serious that even the village
wag would be ashamed that he had made
a joke of war.
MY father was justified when the news of
the first Bull Run fight with it's story of the
utter rout Of the northern forces, came
through. The lists of killed and wounded and
missing in the columns of the 'Seemi- Week
ly Trybune contained names that were well
known in our neighborhood. My big broth
or Jims name was not In the list that time,
nor were any of our .neighborhood names
among those of the killed, but there was
no more reading of imaginary news at the
post office after that Even the village
wag began to realize by that time that the
war was serious thing. The 'ninety-day'
notion was forgotten In our village, and
the village wag himself was one of the vol
unteers when Father, .Abrahams' second
call was made public. shall put wreath
Of flowers on his grave on, Memorial day
this year, as l have every year for more
than thirty years. ~
First to Return.
Zone Of the greatest sensations the vii
lage ever experienced came when Doc
Hemingway. the local. dentist, came home,
wearing the blue. but with only one leg
The other. shattered by a. bursting shell,
had been amputated above the knee He
was a tremendous hero for while, and
be used to accept the herd worship ten
dered with the greatest condescension. He
could pull teeth as well as before, he said,
and he reopened his dental parlors' with
great eclat His business was much larger
than it had ever been before. For while 1t
x..,<1 .