Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 October 1887 — HOW ONE SOLDIER OBEYED ORDERS. [ARTICLE]

HOW ONE SOLDIER OBEYED ORDERS.

Twenty-two years ago, if you followed the pike out of Winchester, Virginia, going south, you would see on the left-hand side of the road, about sixty rods from the town, a small twostory frame house, standing near the pike, in a barren yard. That house was the scene of a military tragedy such as did not often occur in the armies, and which illustrated in the most striking manner the fidelity of a young recruit to duty, and to the strict military maxim—"obey orders!” Let me tell the story. It will be best to say at the start that the real names of the principal actors in this episode are suppressed. They are fresh in mind, and could easily be used; but when the account has been read the reasons for withholding them will be perfectly understood. The hero of the adventure was at the time a lad of less than twenty years, a recruit of the Fifteenth Maine Infantry, and had been but six weeks in the service. His share in the events of that night was not only honorable but highly praiseworthy; yet as he may now be, if surviving, the father of a fami.y, possibly a man of wealth and prominence at home, I should not wish, without his consent, to attach his true name to the sketch. We will therefore call him Private Brigham. As for the unhappy victim of the encounter, whose rashness, or worse, led him on to his death, charity to his memory and to the feelings of surviving relatives appeals to me to withhold his name. He will be styled Lieutenant Y . The time was April, 1865; it was a few days after the news had reached us of the surrender at Appomattox. I was Judge Advocate of Dwight’s Division, which was thrown out about two miles in front of Winchester. Early one morning the field Officer of the Day came riding in to headquarters to report. I stood by and heard what he said to the Adjutant General. “Everything is all right on the picket lino; but 1 hear of a row that occurred at a house where we have a safeguard, on the pike, back near town. There was a man killed—some say an officer. ” 1 was immediately dispatched to investigate. As I rode up to the house I saw a group ot idlers in front. One of them said something about “blood.” Dismounting, I stopped long enough outside to see what they were looking at. Sure enough, it was blood; drops of it on the steps and on the ground. I went in. Two or three women were in the hall, pale as ghosts, and almost hysterical. They all began to talk at once, but I stopped them. I told them who I was, my errand, and that they must tell me the exact truth as to what had happened. I got their story and then went into the back room. There was Private Brigham, a slender slip of a fellow, about as pale as the women, but looking just like a soldier as he grasped his good Springfield musket with the bayonet fixed. I had learned enough already to satisfy me where the truth lay, and I talked kindly and assuringly to the young soldier while I took notes of his Statement. “Give it to me just as it happened,” I said. “If you have obeyed orders and done your duty, no harm shall come to you. ” He told me his story, which perfectly matched that of the women, in a simple and straightforward way. These accounts, I have never doubted, gave the whole truth of the affair. Before going back to headquarters I went into another room, where something on the floor was covered by a

white sheet from a bed. One of the women turned it down. A dead man lay there with a bayonet wound clear through his breast. There were no straps upon the shoulders of his blouse, but I recognized the face at once. It was that of Lieutenant Y , of the cavalry, whom I had met in Winchester the winter before. He was a wild fellow, much given to drink and dissipation, but of handsome face and fine appearance. And this was how it happened: The occupants of the house were a widow and her two grown daughters. They had been annoyed by depredations of some soldiers, to which had been lately added an occasional visit by Lieutenant Y . He was, or professed to be, in love with one of the girls. Both she and her mother had requested him not to trouble them, and fearing that he would not heed the request, they had asked for a safeguard, which had been furnished the night before in the person of Private Brigham. To “force'a safeguard,” in military parlance, is a grave crime. The officer or soldier who would do it would lay himself liable to no less penalty than that of death! The safeguard stands for the protection of peaceable citizens and their property, and has the power of the whole army at his back. It is doubtful whether Private Brigham, fresh in the service as he was, fully realized this; but he knew what his orders were, and he was determined to obey them. They were toadmit no one to the house but an officer on duty. Some time after dark three horsemen rode up to the door and dismounted. One of them, Lieutenant Y , opened the door, and was confronted with a bayonet at the end of a musket, in the hands of the resolute safeguard. One of the women held a lamp back in the hall.

What happened did not take two minutes. The officer swore at Brigham, and ordered him to stand back. The soldier told him flatly that he could not enter, and that he would be hurt if he tried it. The officer swore again, was taunted by his companion outside for being kept back by “an infantry toad-stabber, and he made a rush. The soldier put the bayonet straight through him. He must have died instantly; liis heart was cloven through. He tumbled to the floor, and Private Brigham stood again on guard. There was more profanity outside, and another man appeared on the steps and attempted to enter. He, too, was warned, but pressed on, and promptly received the bayonet through his arm. He waited for no more, but beat a hasty retreat, was helped on his horse by the orderly, and rode away. On the report that I made to General Dwight of this affair, I was ordered to defend the soldier whenever he should be brought before a courtmartial. I expected to have to do this, and made ready to do it; but the occasion never came. Brigham was never tried, and honorably finished his service. I never knew precisely why no greater stir was made about the matter, but the reasons are not hard to conjecture. Tho cavalry division in and about Winchester was commanded by G enerai Torbert, the same who lost his life by drowning, a few years since, off the coast of Florida. 1 have no doubt that he made his own investigation, and became satisfied that the safeguard did exactly the correct thing, and that a court-martial would be a useless form when the facts were so well known. Nothing but reproach to the dead man and his companion could have come from the trial of Private Brigham; so the whole business was wisely dropped. But I doubt if another instance of such promptness and fidelity to orders can be found in a lad not two months in the army. It is such stuff makes heroes!