Fulton County tribune. (Wauseon, Ohio) 1883-1925, 1914-04-24
GIRL WITH THE FLAG
BY MRS. GEN. GEORGE E. PICKETT.

The long lines of infantry had
swept up through the green valleys
of southern Pennsylvania and were
weariedly marching northward to a
battlefield somewhere, no man of them
could have told where. They only
knew that they were tired and foot
sore and hungry, and the rich green
fields they had passed had brought
no comfort
A young soldier took off his ragged
cap, wiped the perspiration from his
face and looked over at little cot
tage with its encircling vines. 1t
made him think of another little cot
tage across the lines, where the vines
had embowered his childhood.
AS the head of the column came
opposite the house a girl ran out from
the open doorway to the front of
the portico. She had a United States
flag tied around her as an apron and
she stepped upon a chair that the
whole army might see it and waved it
defiantly at the approaching troops.
The leader looked around appre-
hensively. Some of his men had come
from the most frightfully devastated
part of the South. How would they
take the sudden defiant presentation
of the banner under which that ruin
had been wrought? With a swift,
graceful movement he wheeled his
black battle horse out of line, lifted
his cap, bowed to the warlike maid
and saluted the flag she bore. He
turned to the advancing men, waved
his hand, and every tattered cap was
lifted and each man as he passed
saluted the enemy's colors. The
leader rode forward to his place and
the long line moved on
'She is a little fighter" thought
the boy who had waved his cap to
her. Il should like to have her for a
sister. Only if she we're my sister
she would wave but one flag"
He sighed, remembering the lonely
cottage under the magnolias.
In love again, by Jove," said the
older soldier who marched beside
him. Hi, boys! What do you think !?
Shivers is in love with the little
Pennsylvania amazon"
All the while they were marching
on-they who dreamed of home and
love, they who professed lofty scorn
for sentimentalities, and they who
went silently to the field whereon a
cause was to die.
On the morning of the third poor
Jack Shivers was one of those who
lay behind the low, long hill and
looked eastward into the space be-
tween two ranges of fire-crowned
peaks. A man was crouched down
beside him with his hand resting on
his shoulder. Neither spoke, but
there was comradeship in the touch
that told of a love greater than men
put into words.
Beyond the crest they waited as
the slow hours went by-waited till
the order came, and they went down
into the valley of death What they
did on that fatal field of Gettysburg
is inscribed on the page of history.
In the beginning of the retreat
Jack Shivers was wounded. The over
whelming force of the enemy were
closing in from every point.
s'He is dead" thought the man. He
scarce noticed the shower of balls
that fell about him nor marveIed over
the apparent miracle that not one
of them touched him as he bore the
unconscious boy to a spot of greater
security Under the grove of trees
not quite in the line of fire he laid
his friend on the smooth grass that
had been untouched by the storm of
war. With his untutored skill he
dressed the wound and sat looking
at the stiIl face and trying to tug with
the fingers of hope against the weight
of despair that filed his heart
The boy moved restlessly and
opened his eyes.
"Are we dead?"
mo: unfortunately-we are lone
somely alive. We'd have more com.
pany if we were dead"
did we win the battle?"
Did we win? Boy, l am too heart
weary and dazed to know anything
but pain, unless it be thankfulness
that you are alive"
But tell me something-where are
we and where are the others? o.
/ see; / am wounded and can't &c
on-but you-you must leave me OF
you will be taken prisoner or killed
Not much, old man; here open
your mouth and take swig of this
The sun which had risen so bright
| ly upon our hopes went down sadly
on defeat, and darkness closed
around the grove, and still the man
sat there. watching over the helpless
boy.
Over beyond the western hills the
! roll of the old division was being
called and only thousand voices
made answer. The others had re
sponded to the last roll call. Thus
the dawn of Independence day
| glooned over the defeated army in
1863.
Jim went to the edge of the woods