Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 November 1886 — GREAT GUNS. [ARTICLE]

GREAT GUNS.

Soldiers' Stirring Stories of Solid Shot, Screaming Shells, Big Battles, Bursting Bombs, Buzzing Bullets, and Bright 1 A Yankee Trick. If in order I want to tell another old'bat good story on Donovan, of the “Dully Company —, last in the field and first out. ” Prior to Company H, Thirteenth Vermont, going to Camp Carusi they were encamped at Wolr Ituu Shoals, Virginia. The weather was cold, the ground frozen and covered with suow. Many of the boys became sick and many died in spite of the comforts and care we gave to them. We soon became accustomed to death, but not, as some writers say, indifferent. Among the sick was old Sam 0— —. He ! was a very peculiar man. He had a combinittion of the funny qualities of Mark Twain’s characters,“Jim Blain and Scotty.” In' telling a story he “discounted with big odds” nil dictionaries known. He was not at a loss for big words in any language, original or manufactured, for the occasion. His conversation was a mixed up lot of nonsense composed of railroad switches, hardware stores, card-playing terms, and border slang, as “you bet,” “now you are a wolf.” and “now you are bowling,” etc. Often be was very high-tondd and used the most absurd and laughable Boston English. At the time of which I write Sam was, as he said, “on level grade and trying to make a flying switch, and would get there on time howling, if the track wasn't greased.” He meant that he was convalescent, and would soon be out. Donovan, who had waited on him through his illness, had just come in, and overhearing Sam's talk, exclaimed: “Howly Moses, Sam! Yez ate enough fer two men, and I’ll have ye in the boneyard beyant before yez get forninst the switch, so ” "Hush! St. Paddy, enumerate not your adolescent rooster ere he ceases to be oviform,” replied Sam, with a comical gravity. “Poruk and beans! poruk and Bostin,” yelled Pat, “and what does ye say?” “I said I would show you a Yankee trick when I got w ell which you could play on the greenhorns.” “Now, Sammy, I’ll bet yez fifty cints ye don't, ” and with a lot of chaffing at each other the matter dropped for two days,Then the wily Sam, who had been closely eying Donovan, saw that he had been drinking freely, took out a two-dollar bill and smoothed it carefully for a long time, till the watchful and half-intoxicated Donovan exclaimed: “An who yez been robbin’, Sam? Give me that.” “What! gif yon zwei tollar! Not much, Mickey, me jack pot of Emerald Isle. I’ll go you one better, and bet you can't stand there by the bunk and hit my hand on the wall. Is it a go, Shamrock?” “An’ the ten shilling is mine at onc.et?" said Donovan. “Yes, if you can hit my flipper. If you don’t, you owe me a tvvo-dollar William.” “Done!” said Pat, putting up the money. "Sam rolled over to the wall and put his big hand up, spreading out his fingers. Pat squared off at the front side of the bunk (which was a wide one and he could just reach the wall); he took careful aim, and let fly a tremendous blow at Sam’s hand. Sam quickly dropped his hand, and Donovan’s fist hit the rough board a blow that split it and caused tin cups and bottles to jingle and fall to the floor. “Poruk and banes! Bostin banes!” yelled Sam, with a roar of laughter. “Bad luck to ye!” groaned Donovan, shaking his bleeding fist. “It's a Yankee trick sure! Hush! Here comes the man yon licked the other day. Play the trick on him like this. Bet him a dollar he can’t hit your hand, and ” Before Sam could further explain, Joe, of Company B, came in, and Sam began a lo’ of his nonsense, but managed to get Pat and Joe to betting on man}' things, and first winking slyly at Joe, then at Pat, and had the two all mixed up, and hot at each other. Just os five of us came in, Joe, who was always polite, took off his hat, bowed, and started for the door, to leave us. This made Tat mad, and he'called out. “Bad cess to ye, me hop o’ me thumb! f~~bct ~ytr ten hhilling- yez oant> hit .tag hand, ye Bostin Yank, so I will.” Joe look id -at-us, and than at Sain, who winked and said something about a flying switch and exhaust pipe too full, etc. Joe borrowed Sam's two dollars, and said: “Well, Pat, put up your Laud. I’ll try it, but I don't catch on to your game.” “Put up your duke, Pat,” said Sam, who had his hand over his nose. And to our surprise Pat put his hand ov%r his nose, and said, with great emphasis and confidence: “Ten shilling yez can’t hit me hand!” ! Quick as a cat. Joe struck from his shoulder at Pat’s hand. Quick as he was, Pat was quicker. He pulled away his hand, and consequently received Joe’s blow upon his nose, and instantly measured his length on the floor, with blood streaming profusely from his nose and mouth, and eyes rabidly swelling. Joe bounded like a deer ont of the door.' We stood dumfound-" ed. Sam’s low voice and words, “Disasters will eventuate even in hospital of supremest integrity,” brought us to ourselves, aud we roared and veiled with laughter; and Sam was the lon lest and most boisterous. Pat bounded to his feet, and yelled: “Give me the twenty shilling! He hit not me hand, but moi-nose. He’s lost the" bet> ” Again we yelled till our sides ached, and had to lean on the chairs for support. After a little we became cooler, our laughter subsided, and turned to Sain for the money. He lay on his back, his eyes distended and dilated, a grin stretched I is big mouth almost from ear to ear. out of which oozed a stream of blood. The surgeon hastened to raise his head, and asked how he felt. Sam feebly rais *d Ms h ind, and in reply to Pat’s intimation that it was another Yankee trick, faintly—said; “A greased track, pard. Switch turned!” and died.— Chicago Ledger, > Is That Grist-Mill Still Standing? While on a raid under General Stoneman, near the close of the war, passing through a wild ancTbarren regibivwe found ourselves short of rations for both men and horses. Although foraging at that time in tfyat section of oountry was considered rather dangerous, I, for one, resolved to run the risk; and agreed with a comrade to leave the command at the first diverging road we came to, and see what we could see. The road proved to be but little traveled, find for about trmiie seemed-ter -gradually -de--scend down, down, until we discovered a stream of water, and, to onr surprise and delight, something resembling a grist-mill. But was tltat all we discovered? Oh, no! There were four horses hitched near the mill, and their four riders seemed to be intently busy in and about the mill. Who and what are they? Johnnies? was the allabsorbing question in onr minds as we cautiously approached them. But we soon recognized them as belonging to onr

own command—boys of the Twelftg Ohio and Eleventh Michigan Cavalry. Hastily dismounting, we hitched our horses and entered the mill, saluting them with: “Hello, boys! What are yon doing here?” “Why, we are hying to get tips confounded thing started. Do you fellows know anything abont a water-mill—how to start it or manage it?” ! “Ob, yes! Just turn on the water and let her go.” “Well, the water is on, but the provoking thing won’t start.” “But she’i got to, that’s all.” ’ Sure enough, in a few minutes away she went. The hopper was filled up witn com we found in the mill; und, although we did not obtain a very tine grind, we each supplied ourselves with about a gallon of the precious yellow dust, more precious just then than the gold dust of California. And mounting our horses we hastened to rejoin tfie command, leaving the old grist mill to stop when she got ready, for it is one thing to start a mill, but another... to. stop it. Joseph Banks, ''Company B, Twelfth#. V. C. Vanderbilt, Michigan. A Close Call. Some time in the month of February, 18(12, our regiment, the First New York, was stationed at Camp Bfitler, Newport News, Va. One morning a squad of twelve men was sent ont, under Lieutenant Melville, on a reconuoitering expedition, to spy put the laud. We started in the morning, very early, and at about nine o’clock were in the neighborhood of Little Bethel. Being hungry, we went to a log house of good size anil appearance. We asked for break;ast. They said it would be a pleasure for them to get us something to eat, as they were good Union people. While breakfast was being prepared I engaged the owner of the farm in conversation. I asked him how far it was to the Confederate lines. He said a regiment of cavalry was stationed in a piece of .woods about three-quarters of a mile away, pointing out the wood. After a while-the old man was gone. I looked, and saw him go behind the barn, and, by some means, I saw him beyond the barn, making for the woods before. poinled-Qut. I. told Lieutenant Melville something was wrong, and that we had better get out. He rather thought not, but, having iny suspicions aroused, I was on the lookout. Soon I saw about fifty cavalry coming at full speed, and perhaps as many more infantry. I gave the alarm and the men made for a swamp, a few rods from the house, in the direction we had come. As we reached the swamp an old darky Woman I had seen there was waving a handkerchief at us and making motions for us to take to the swamp instead of crossing the corduroy road. The cavalry came up to the swamp, but could not follow us. There were a few random shots fired, but without effect. We got out of the swamp near our lines about one o’clock, wet, muddy and hungry. Two weeks after we again visited the same locality. The old darky woman came into camp with us, and was there when our regiment left. When questioned about tj e matter she said,“ Why, bress you, homes, if yon had not took to de swamp dey would have had you, suah. ” Übiaij Atwood-,-™*-Company G, First New York Infantry. TnoupsnuuoH, Now York. Unknown. 'lt was all over at last, and the poor, weary soldier slept. For days he had moaned and struggled with fever. When the surgeon came on his morning round John Bryant lay very still and white, his ashen lips wearing a smile which had been caught and frozen by the angel Death. Just who he, was no one could tell; he had been brought into the hospital very sick, and continued delirious. His name on the register was John Bryant; that was all they knew of him. He was a man of medium proportions, with an open, intelligent face. The dear, kind nurse, as she soothed him, had heard him murmur “Darling Mary,” “Precious children,” something of a prayer, and of a long, long, weary journey. His body was carefully buried, but the inquiries made concerning him proved useless. No one came to bewail John Bryant’s death or to claim his effects, the soiled clothing he wore when brought to the hospital. Before the latter was disposed of, however, according to hospital rules, it was carefully searched. The pockets contained nothing; but in the inside of tlie jacket, under a strong patch, evidently stitched on phawwl-oioso.against the, place where his strong, manly heart beat—lay a picture^,- .. . There was the “darling Mary.” the young, sweet wife, her delicate lips parted with a loving smile, above which softly gazed her hazel eyes. Sitting on her lap, with one dimpled hand clasping a long brown curl which had strayed over her shoulder, was the baby, a wee, fair thing. There, too, clinging to either side, were the “precious children,” the little girl and boy. Ah! ’twas these who must make the “long, long, weary journey” of life ere they all meet again. These lustrous eyes grew dim and weary, and yet no tidings. Their souls grew faint and sick with waiting. John Bryant was at rest. * The Saving Power of Whisky. General Steedman was fond, of telling the following instance of what liquor would sometimes do: The night after the battle of Chickarnauga, Hteedman was riding past a cabin bythe roadside. A woman at the fence said to him: “There is a dead Union officer in niv house.” Kteedman dismounted and went in to see the dead man. He found him lying in a corner, covered with a blanket, where the surgeon had- abandoned .him,He pulled the covering off, stooped down, and, by the"light of a candle, recognized his old friend, Colonel Durbin Ward. He was cold and apparently lifeless. Steedman felt his pulse, and found a slight fluttering. Calling for his orderly, who carried a canteen of whisky, he raised the dying man, and, putting the canteen to his month, poured a liberal quantity of the reviving fluid down his throat. The reaction came, the surgeons were sent lor, and Durbin Ward was saved. He never got done thanking Steedman, and ha never could listen with pa-, tienee to a temperance orator decrying spirits thereafter. “I am a living example,” he used to say, “of the saving power of even commissary whisky.” —Chicago Ledger. First Regiment in Fort Wagner. Having had experience at the front from the very I write it Our regiment was at the battle of Winchester. Went to release McClellan on the peninsula. We were all through the siege of Folly anti Morris Islands; were thefirst regiment in Fort Wagner. Our flag was first planted. We helped to mount that historic gun, the*“Swamp Angel.” I draw a pension for injnries received while building a two-hundred-p und battery on Morris Island from a SLell thrown from Sumter. We were also with General Grant on the James, and at Duvall’s Bluff our company lost twenty-seven men in an hour and j a half. One dav when we were on .picket duty j

Colonel Hamel, of the Fifth Pennsylvania, came along and said, “Boys, do you see any Johnnies about here?*’ We replied, “There’s enough of them here, but they do not show themselves.” He replied, “I will find them—make them show themselves— : you shoot them.” He climbed a big stump, and there he stood to draw their tire, which he did right soon, and standing there as a target, pointed out to us, fThere, behind yon stump—von brush-pile—see—glW it to “them, boys,” and “bang,” “bang” west our shaipsbooters at where the smoke shoamd the enemy was firing at Colonel HamelV He was a brave officer. \ He was in command of our brignde at New Bottom Church. We drove the enemy there, then fell back tq our lines, when we were followed by one of their officers, who rode up and exhorted us to hold that position at all hazards. We told him we guessed ho was out of his jurisdiction, when he wheeled and tried to escape, but a volley brought down his horse, wounding him. When, he found himself a prisoner he became very anxirius for our safety, saying, “Tnke me to the rear, so my men may not find out my fate, or they will massacre the whole of you.” He was General Walker. Our Captain replied that wo were able to take care of ourselves. After a while they sent a flag of truce to learn what had become of him. During the nionotouy of picket duty, when our lines were close together, we used to converse and thide with the. Johnnies. One day Captain Williams was officer of thd day, and gave strict orders that there should be no trading. But along in the afternoon he gave a soldier a fine pocketknife with a note attached, asking for its worth in tobacco, and told him to throw it over. The knife was thrown over, but no tobacco ever came back for it. He violated his own order, and lost bis knife. v , F. M. Holloway. Farmer City, 111. Southern Wit. Officers of both sides, the blue and the gray, were sometimes thrown together to negotiate affairs, and frequently became quite friendly. Such was the state of things between General Ould, Commissioner of Exchange, and Colonel Schaffer, chief of staff to General Butler, who at the time of this narrative was in charge at New Orleans. They had occasion to meet very often, their bearing toward each other was/ most kindly; ana they personally became great friends. gj> They were, one day, together looking over the map of the State of Virginia. It will.be necessary here to recall the fact that Richmond was at that time still “holding out.” It occurred to Colonel Schaffer that City Point was geographically situated to become a great commercial and commanding city. Said he: “I am amazed that it had not become one before the war, and,” enthusiastically continuing, “if I had the capital I would invest it on its site. I would be willing to invest my all. It is bound to be a great city. ” Quid, with suppressed merriment and a twinkle in his eye, interrupted him with: “It seems to me, Colonel, if I may venture an opinion, that it would be better just at present to take a city already built;” The hint was broad enough, and goodnaturedly taken. A Fallen Foe. After the battle was oyer at Shiloh, on Tuesday, I was detailed for picket duty. I, with two of iny comrades, was sent to the right of the Purdy road, on the brow of a hill near where the reserve was stationed. The night was one of unusually black darkness, aud we had orders to shoot on sight. I was slightly in advance of my two comrades, and in a most solitary spot. Along about four o’clock I heard some one coming through the brush. I had no time to consult my comrades, for on he came. I shouted “Halt!” My foe stopped. “Who comes there?” No reply, but on he came. I called again and then fired. I was frightened, and my heart was in my mouth. I heard something drop heavily to the ground, accompanied by a groan equal to the signal of a fog-horn. My shot brought Lieutenant Green, of my company, to the post. He with my comrades wanted to know what the shot meant. I said, “I have shot some one in that thicket, for I heard him groan.” With the aid of a lantern which the Lieutenant had brought, we proceeded to carefully investigate. We had not far to go until we came upon a dead mule, shot as fairly between the eyes as you please. If any of my comrades see this I should he glad to hear from them. _ William Pkott. Mt. Vernon, Ohio. ’ V~ ' Bridge Lumber. • j r, —— The writer was at Green Bay, Wis., one day during the second year of the war, when an order was received for certain specified sticks of square timber. The logs to make them were not in the pond. When the case was laid before him he at once thought of a clump of pines standing near the Fox River, a few miles above, and visited the old French half-breed who owned them, and at once bargained for and purchased them. It was summer, and warm work, but in a few days those trees were in the river at the mill, and in a few “Hours more were sawn 1 into square" timber for bridges. These pieces were at once loaded unon the cars and expressed from Fort Howard to some point in Tennessee,' for rebuilding destroyed railrofid bridges. I was afterward informed that Within teg days from the cutting of those trees in Northern Wisconsin they were standing in Teunessee. bridges and doing duty in the work of forwarding men and supplies to the front. An old French half-breed who stood by when this fact was being stated remarked: “Dreadful poor pine. Those timbers all rot in four year.” “That’s long enoughin four years the United States will have no need for those bridges.” This little fact shows the remarkable facility with which freights were handled lona distances in war times.— Chicago Ledger. It Was a Good Job. The following good one on General Doubleday is told hv Colonel W. A. James: When we were in the defenses before Washington, in 1861, General Double,day, a rigid martinet, was in command of the brigade, which was made up almost entirely pf young and untrained soldiers. One of them, a tank and overgrown Westerner, was doing picket duty one day when Doubleday, glorious in gilt and brass, rode by on his charger, accompanied by his entire staff. As they passed the big Westerner stared at them with open-mouthed wonder, and neglected to salute. The General noticed the error, and rode ba k with fire in his eye, -———i TiliK “What is your name?” he asked the picket. “v" ™-==— —j The picket fold him. "Well, Lain General Donldeday, commanding the defenses of Washington.” “Are ye, indeed?” said the soldier, nonchalantly. “Waal, ye hev a gosh-firtd fine j job, and I hope ye can ihold it.” The General galloped off again without a 1 word.