Part 10 (2/2)

How bravely they fought! There, upon the cold ground, lay a soldier of the Ninth Illinois. Early in the action of Sat.u.r.day he was shot through the arm. He went to the hospital and had it bandaged, and returned to his place in the regiment. A second shot pa.s.sed through his thigh, tearing the flesh to shreds.

”We will carry you to the hospital,” said two of his comrades.

”No, you stay and fight. I can get along alone.” He took off his bayonet, used his gun for a crutch, and reached the hospital. The surgeon dressed the wound. He heard the roar of battle. His soul was on fire to be there. He hobbled once more to the field, and went into the thickest of the fight, lying down, because he could not stand. He fought as a skirmisher. When the Rebels advanced, he could not retire with the troops, but continued to fight. After the battle he was found dead upon the field, six bullets having pa.s.sed through his body.

One bright-eyed little fellow, of the Second Iowa, had his foot crushed by a cannon-shot. Two of his comrades carried him to the rear. An officer saw that, unless the blood was stopped, he never would reach the hospital. He told the men to tie a handkerchief around his leg, and put snow on the wound.

”O, never mind the foot, Captain,” said the brave fellow. ”We drove the Rebels out, and have got their trench; that's the most I care for!” The soldiers did as they were directed, and his life was saved.

There in the trenches was a Rebel soldier with a rifle-shot through his head. He was an excellent marksman, and had killed or wounded several Union officers. One of Colonel Birges's sharpshooters, an old hunter, who had killed many bears and wolves, crept up towards the breastworks to try his hand upon the Rebel. They fired at each other again and again, but both were shrewd and careful. The Rebel raised his hat above the breastwork,--whi----z! The sharpshooter out in the bushes had put a bullet through it. ”Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the Rebel, sending his own bullet into the little puff of smoke down in the ravine. The Rocky Mountain hunter was as still as a mouse. He knew that the Rebel had outwitted him, and expected the return shot. It was aimed a little too high, and he was safe.

”You cheated me that time, but I will be even with you yet,” said the sharpshooter, whirling upon his back, and loading his rifle and whirling back again. He rested his rifle upon the ground, aimed it, and lay with his eye along the barrel, his finger on the trigger. Five minutes pa.s.sed. ”I reckon that that last shot fixed him,” said the Rebel. ”He hasn't moved this five minutes.”

He raised his head, peeped over the embankment, and fell back lifeless.

The unerring rifle-bullet had pa.s.sed through his head.

If you could go over the battle-ground with one of those sharpshooters, he would show you a little clump of bushes, and some stumps, where three or four of them lay on Sat.u.r.day, in front of one of the Rebel batteries, and picked off the gunners. Two or three times the artillerymen tried to drive them out with sh.e.l.ls; but they lay close upon the ground, and the sh.e.l.ls did not touch them. The artillerymen were obliged to cease firing, and retreat out of reach of the deadly bullets.

Some of the Rebel officers took their surrender very much to heart. They were proud, insolent, and defiant. Their surrender was unconditional, and they thought it very hard to give up their swords and pistols. One of them fired a pistol at Major Mudd, of the Second Illinois, wounding him in the back. I was very well acquainted with the Major. He lived in St. Louis, and had been from the beginning an ardent friend of the Union. He had hunted the guerillas in Missouri, and had fought bravely at Wilson's Creek. It is quite likely he was shot by an old enemy.

General Grant at once issued orders that all the Rebel officers should be disarmed. General Buckner, in insolent tones, said to General Grant that it was barbarous, inhuman, brutal, unchivalrous, and at variance with the rules of civilized warfare! General Grant replied:--

”You have dared to come here to complain of my acts, without the right to make an objection. You do not appear to remember that your surrender was unconditional. Yet, if we compare the acts of the different armies in this war, how will yours bear inspection? You have cowardly shot my officers in cold blood. As I rode over the field, I saw the dead of my army brutally insulted by your men, their clothing stripped off of them, and their bodies exposed, without the slightest regard for common decency. Humanity has seldom marked your course whenever our men have been unfortunate enough to fall into your hands.

At Belmont your authorities disregarded all the usages of civilized warfare. My officers were crowded into cotton-pens with my brave soldiers, and then thrust into prison, while your officers were permitted to enjoy their parole, and live at the hotel in Cairo. Your men are given the same fare as my own, and your wounded receive our best attention. These are incontrovertible facts. I have simply taken the precaution to disarm your officers and men, because necessity compelled me to protect my own from a.s.sa.s.sination.”

General Buckner had no reply to make. He hung his head in shame at the rebuke.

Major Mudd, though severely wounded, recovered, but lost his life in another battle. One day, while riding with him in Missouri, he told me a very good story. He said he was once riding in the cars, and that a very inquisitive man sat by his side. A few rods from every road-crossing the railroad company had put up boards with the letters W. R. upon them.

”What be them for?” asked the man.

”Those are directions to the engineer to blow the whistle and ring the bell, that people who may be on the carriage-road may look out and not get run over by the train,” the Major answered.

”O yes, I see.”

The man sat in silence awhile, with his lips working as if he was trying to spell.

”Well, Major,” he said at last, ”it may be as you say. I know that w-r-i-n-g spells ring, but for the life of me I don't see how you can get an R into whistle!”

The fall of Fort Donelson was a severe blow to the Rebels. It had a great effect. It was the first great victory of the Union troops. It opened all the northwest corner of the Confederacy. It compelled General Johnston to retreat from Bowling Green, and also compelled the evacuation of Columbus and all Central Tennessee. Nashville, the capital of that State, fell into the hands of the Union troops.

On Sunday morning the Rebels at Nashville were in good spirits. General Pillow had telegraphed on Sat.u.r.day noon, as you remember, ”On the honor of a soldier, the day is ours.” The citizens shouted over it.

One sober citizen said: ”I never liked Pillow, but I forgive him now. He is the man for the occasion.”

Another, who had been Governor of the State,--a wicked, profane man,--said: ”It is first-rate news. Pillow is giving the Yankees h.e.l.l, and rubbing it in!”[6] It is a vile sentence, and I would not quote it, were it not that you might have a true picture from Rebel sources.

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