USA > Illinois > The 86th Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, 1900 > Part 2
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Evening Session.
Commander Peters called for order at 8:10.
The Brodman Quartette sang "Tenting Tonight on the Old Camp Ground," and responded to an encore by repeat- ing chorus.
The Adjutant read the following
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Death Roll:
Co. B. Robert Brown, at Albany, Oregon, Nov. 18, 1899. Co. E. J. A. Job,* at Beloit, Kan., Feb. 5, 1899.
Co. F. John Hugs, at Gilson, III., August 17. 1900. Co. I. Alfred Lacock, at Kingston Mines, Ill., July 23, 1900. Co. I. Jacob Reed, in Peoria Co., Ill., August 12, 1900ยท Co. I. David Smith, Drowned in Colorado river, April 19, 1900. Co. K. Jefferson Debord, at Maitland, Mo., April 19, 1900.
Co. K. Joseph Parents, at Princeville, Ill., March 28, 1900.
* In Adjt. General Vance's report, and in all my reports, this name is Job; but recently I received a letter from his daughter, in which she says the name is Job (pronounced Joh) and isthat way on his discharge
Martin Kingman, Allen L. Fahnestock and A. W. Bel- cher were appointed a committee on Obituary Resolutions. The next day they reported the following
Obituary Resolutions:
Commander and Comrades :- By the death of the above eight comrades of the 86 Il1. Regt., we are again reminded that the pale horse and his rider is abroad in the land, and that no defence can be successful against this cavalryman. Though we may meet him with fortitude and courage, all must yield to his power.
Resolved :- That we extend to the relatives of our de- parted comrades, our sincere sympathy.
Resolved :- That a page in our record be marked in mourning for the departed, and that a copy of these reso- lutions be sent to the bereaved families.
A.L. FAHNESTOCK, A. W. BELCHER.
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Then followed
Hon. A. J. Daugherty's Address.
Mr. Chairman and Veterans of the Eighty-sixth Illi- nois: Your committee assigned to me as a subject for my address today, "What I saw and my impressions of a Sol- dier's Life." As memory lifts the curtain and I recall the incidents of those eventful years, swarming in myriads for recognition, I realize how impotent I am to relate enough what I saw in the time alotted me to do even limping jus- tice to the theme, to say nothing of my impressions of a sol- dier's life as I observed it in that matchless struggle be- tween armies, the magnitude and stubborn fierceness of which in conflict never have had their equals in the annals of the world.
Though I cannot greet you as comrade, my heart and tongue have never failed to pay tribute to your heroic achievement, for I was an admiring witness of your sacrifi- ces and sufferings in camp and trench, and on the march, and on many a field of battle. I always craved the diction and power to tell in more forceful words than I command, the story that is graven on the tablets of my memory. .
There is no soldier here who has not craved and does not pray for that same power, for if the youth of all this land could have those pictures and those scenes transcribed from minds that carry them, as faithfully as the camera conveys to plates the scenes of daily life, imbedded in those children's lives, would live a history replete with lessons all ablaze with patriotic fire, and none but ingrate children of a host of heroes could fail of inspiration that in trying times would match the glories that their fathers won, and whip a world in arms against them. What gems of glory sparkle all along the path that our brave soldiers trod be- neath the flag they carried and emblazoned with a thousand victories ! I traveled with them on that bloody path they made through Tennessee and Georgia. I saw them bridge the Tennessee, and climb the frowning ranges that lifted up the rocky barriers as if to bar the way to Chatanooga. I saw them scale the bouldered and broken front of towering Lookout, and beneath the belching guns that crowned her misty summit, possess the city sleeping at her base. I saw them in the forests of the sluggish Chickamauga grapple with the flower of Southern chivalry, and when our torn and bleeding right was forced to flee, I saw the defiant left,
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under the cool and intrepid Thomas, beat back the charging hosts elate with victory, as would the rock in ocean storm divide and turn to spray the mighty waves that dash against its sides. I saw them starving and bleeding after this mighty struggle in the forests, still aflame with that high courage that inspires the freeman battling for his heritage, fighting and fortifying day and night. beneath the booming guns of cloud-capped Lookout. Living upon half rations, but singing patriotic songs the while, they fought and fell, still holding well at bay the crippled but courage- ous foemen. Later on I saw them under Grant and Sher- man, under Thomas and a host of leaders who won imper- ishable laurels, storm the heights of Missionary Ridge, and hurl the besieging legions back into the veryforests through which they had but lately marched as victors. I saw them at Tunnel Hill and before the towering palisades at Buz- zard Roost, where perpendicular wall and narrow pass made Dalton almost impregnable. I saw them under the magnetic Logan pass through the Gap, and close in bloody but victorious struggle with the enemy on his chosen ground at Pumpkin Vine and at Resaca. I was with them at Al- toona, on the field of Peach Tree Creek, in the heavy for- ests before Bald Kenesaw, across the Chattahoocheehere McPherson fell and Logan by his matchless valor stayed retreat and snatched victory from defeat.
When the racing armies of Hood and Thomas, bending every energy to outfoot each other for the possession of that strategic stronghold, Nashville, fell afoul and closed in that terrific struggle at Franklin, Tennessee, I saw our bleeding and exhausted victors occupy the heights at Nashville while the persistent enemy laid siege. I saw them later on inove out upon those ice-covered fields and assail the forti- fied besiegers. I witnessed the daring that bestrewed the slopes of Overton Hill, when our own lamented Post won deathless fame charging those embattled heights. I went with Logan to Savannah, and when the colors of Sherman's army faded from the Georgian coast, I saw them fight their way through reeking swamps and the tangled morasses of the Carolinas: I was with them at Columbia and at Jones- boro, and when these war bronzed veterans were called to Washington for that Grand Review, to be welcomed as nev- er were co quering heroes welcomed in all the world before I saw a grateful people strew the streets with flowers, and decorate with wreaths the prancing steeds that bore their brave commanders. The very air was tremulous the live-
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long day with cheers and blessings on the victors, and all the land was glad and decked in flags the symbol of the na- tion's power and vindicated laws. 1
The debt of gratitude this nation owes these heroes. who carried the flag to a triumph that has blessed both sec- tions of the union and blessed the world, is beyond all com- putation, for they saved a priceless heritage which I believe it will henceforth be the patriotic aim of our reunited peo- ple, north and south, to transmit unimpaired to the genera- tions yet to come. The price that was paid in blood, to say nothing of the treasure, can be most readily realized when we consider that the losses sustained by each of the armies in single battles of that conflict, were almost as great as the entire loss of the American army during the whole sev- en years of the Revolutionary War, the two years' war of 1812 and the Mexican war of 1846 and 1847, and the losses of both armies in many single battles far exceeded all the losses of our armies in the ten years of war alluded to. The value of that great victory cannot be measured in dollars, for failure meant the collapse of free govornment by the people and for the people ; it meant never-ending disputes and conflicts between the governments into which we would have been divided ; it meant a monarchy in Mexico and the carving up of South America by the gevernments of Europe, for neither section would have had the strength or the disposition to enforce the Monroe doctrine effectual 'ly; it meant the establishment of a nondescript political contradiction, a Republic founded upon the Declaration of Independence, with one of the races in that republic in the most abject vasselage, and slavery the cornerstone; it meant the forfeiture of all the brilliant promise of the future, with our matchless triumphs in diplomacy and arms that have . driven from the western hemisphere the last vestage of Spanish tyranny, challenged the admiration of an astonished world, and made possible and assured the redemption, re- generation and freedom of struggling Cuba. of Porto Rico, Hawaii and the far-off Philippines. The value of your vic- tory cannot be measured by a pension roll, for if ours were double what it is, and were to be carried for generations, there would still stand upon one side of the ledger the year- ly millions to the veterans of the war, and on the other the yearly billions, representing a prosperity that would have been impossible if you had failed, and a material wealth, outstirpping in its magnitude the wildest hopes and dreams of the foun'ers of the republic. the amazement and envy
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of the world.
The veterans of the Eighty-sixth, the honored surviv- ors of that mighty conflict, share equally with all their comrades of all the armies that fought for this great achievement, in the unfading glories that cluster about its history, and your happiest reflection at these yearly reun- ions must be, that you have been spared to witness and play your parts as citizens, in the amazing unfoldment of the power and prestige of the republic that you sacrificed so much to rescue and perpetuate. No soldiers of any na- tion meet under happier auspices. A grateful people have bedotted and bedecked a continent to your valor, and pay a yearly pilgrimage to the graves of your departed comrades. The government contributes yearly millions from its treas- ures to assist the unfortunate comrade and his dependents; the best brain in all the land has embalmed in song and story the glories that you won, and these will live when all the monuments of brass and marble have crumbled into dust.
No soldier under any flag beneath the sun, in any cause at any period of the world's history, ever had a retrospect as luminous with gems of glory, a present so crowded with honors and gratitude, and public recognition, nor a future for the country that he served, so decked with promise of great and beneficent achievement, and so crowned with praise and plaudit from an admiring world, as the soldier citizen who fought to crush the rebellion from '61 to '65.
But I am digressing, and upon reflection I am persuad- ed that I can best cover the two branches of my subject by relating a few incidents coming under my personal observa- tion as an army correspondent, which will illustrate the soldier's characteristics from my standpoint, trusting that the story will carry its own conclusions generally.
My observations with the army in active servics began with the raids made by Wilder's brigade of mounted infan- try, first in foraging for the army at Murfreesboro, and next in the effort to break up the annoying bands of bushwhack- ers who were terrorizing Union men in Tennessee and com- mitting acts of brutality that would have been creditable only to a band of Apache Indians. My first opportun- ity to witness the manner in which an army is handled in action was when the Army of the Cumberland started from Murfreesboro on its long march to Chatanooga. Wilder's brigade took the advance and in a drizzling rain headed for Hoover's Gap. The taking of that stronghold by one bri-
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gade and the holding of it against the attacks of a division of the enemy was one of the boldest and best executed movements on that campaign, and elicited the warmest praise from the commanding general. I was not familiar with the ways of war, and during a lull in the firing I rode up to a battery that had taken a position on the summit of the ridge with a regiment supporting it in the rear and lying flat upon the ground. I had dismounted and was talking to the captain of the battery when a rebel bat- tery opened fire on ours. The shells bursting near us and tearing up the ground struck terror into my horse, and he plunged about. dragging me with him in the desperate at- tempt I was making to prevent his escape. And I may-re- mark parenthetically that, that the fellow clinging to the reins shared in no small degree in the terror that inspired the horse. The soldiers in the supporting line were shout- ing all manner of advice and comment, and evidently en- joying my predicament, but the shout of one I shall never forget. "Get out of that, you d-d fool, or you'll get your head shot off !" He communicated nothing new to me, and he must have known that I was just then struggling with the problem of how to get out of there and induce that uu- reasonable animal to assist in the accomplishment.
My first impression of the soldier naturally enough was that in his greetings to a tenderfoot who had placed him- self where he really had'nt any business to be, he was not disposed to be either gentle or elegant in speech, though positive as to results. When I finally did get out, I could hear the uncomplimentary remarks about an ass who would ride into a place where every one was momentarily expect- ing just what was happening. It goes without saying that I didn't know. The rain finally came in torrents, but it dampened in no degree the ardor and fierceness of the at- tacking rebel forces who three times courageously attemp- ted to carry the heights we occupied by fruitless but daring assaults, leaving the slope strewn with hundreds of their dead and dying comrades. In the wheat field on our side of the ridge were many riderless horses, some with wounds that rendered their sufferings pitiable. One poor animal with both forelegs shot off by a shell was standing with the bleeding stumps in the ground, while he was uttering the most pitiful sounds expressive of his pain. Here and there were wounded men and men who had died on their way from the front. Night came on at last, and with clothing thoroughly saturated,tired, half sick from the scenes of car
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nage I had witnessed during the day, I sat on my horse and saw the soldiers building hundreds of little fires in the rain, making their coffee, chatting over the incidents of the day, carrying fence rails upon which they laid their blankets, and preparing to pass the night. A small log cabin to the left of the road, which General Wilder had taken for his headquarters had also been utilized as a hospital to shelter the wounded from the chilling rain. The work of the sur- geons was going on just outside the door, and when the amputations were completed the soldiers were brought in and laid on the floor of the cabin. It was such a chilling rain the boys had built a roaring fire in the old-fashioned fireplace, with its ample supply in front of rough stone slabs. I found the general and his staff sitting around the fireplace when I entered, partaking of coffee and hardtack. It was evident to all that my first experience had been quite trying upom me, and they greeted me with many a pleas- antry to cheer and encourage me. I placed my socks to dry, took a cup of coffee, lay down upon the floor in front of the fireplace, and was soon in the realm of dreams. Just before daybreak someone nudged me, and as I sat up, you can imagine my feelings when I discovered that during the night those mischevious fellows, inured to the scenes of blood and suffering that were new to me, and grown insen- sible in great part to the solemnities associated in my mind with death in any form, had laid all those who had died during the night just alongside of me. The ghastly sight of those pallid faces, the bloody floor, and all the sickening memories of the fight and of the night just passed, gave me another impression of a soldier's life, the nature of which I can safely leave to your imaginations to determine. Just out of a restful sleep, with no memories of unpleasant dreams, my eyes had opened upon these scenes of blood, while all about me were busy men, laughing and cracking jokes in the very presence of death, their swords and spurs rattling in the fresh preparations for a renewal of the con- test at break of day. With what lightning- ike rapidity one's brain works under such circumstances. What myri- ads of thoughts crowd the field of contemplation. Oh. how well I remember how, just then, I was impressed with the thought of the terrible earnestness of war, and at what a fearful cost of nerve, and blood, and suffering, and anguish, on the field, and of anxiety, and fear, and sorrow and tears at the homes of these struggling forces on both sides of the line, we were deciding the one great question, whether or
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not the Republic should live, or the Ship of State freighted with the hopes of freemen the world over, should go down in a sea of blood. Someone handed me a canteen which I found contained something stronger than water, and to the memory of that bracin draft, under my load of first tough experiences, is due in some part, I am persuaded, my lack of sympathy with our over-zealous temperance friends, who are indulging in such vehement abuse of our President on the canteen question.
Some one connected with headquarters had secured a few eggs at a farm house the day before as we advanced, and these were presented to the general. He, in turn, sent two of those eggs to me on a tin plate, with his compli- ments. With a cup of coffee strong enough, I thought, to float a ten-penny nail, and two pieces of hardtack I made out a very strengthening breakfast, and by daylight I was in the saddle again, and off with the general and his staff, feeling that I could meet the vicious zip of the next bullet that came my way without ducking my head as I had been doing all the day preceding. A young man from Indiana had arrived the evening before to serve as chaplain for one of the Indiana regiments in the brigade. He was a tender- foot like myself, and as the enemy greeted us with a shell- ing quite early in the morning, the venturesome chaplain had ascended the hill to catch a view of their camp. Shortly afterwards we passed up the road, and just at the edge we discovered the dead body of the chaplain. A rebel shell had struck him in the breast just as he neared the summit. This gave me another impression, which was that it would be perfectly proper to duck when a shell was coming my way. I passed down that road some hours after and found the chaplain's body still lying where it fell, the rain pouring in torrents and his clothes bespattered with the mud thrown from the wheels of passing artillery. Just then I was tempted to give lodgement to another im- pression, which was, that some one should have removed the body and extended such courteous attention as, accord- ing to my notions of the proprieties, were due to one of his profession, coming to us on a mission of love and mercy. Then I thought again. All over the field, on the slopes of the ridges, in the field where the grain was growing, among the trees and about the camps dead soldiers were lying with their muskets by their sides. The ambulances and the surgeons were busy with the wounded. Every man was intent upon his own appointed task, and the work of war I
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found necessarily left the dead for the more convenient season.
Before the day closed the general said to me: "We are ordered on a hazardous raid to the enemy's rear. It will be a hard trip with perhaps a good deal of danger. If we succeed you will be the only correspondent with the facts in hand." I think I had in me a good deal of the zeal that characterizes the newspaper man of the present day, who is always eager for a scoop of his competitors, for I went, and although the command fought every day and traveled almost every night, I had in that raid one of the best op- portunities ever offered of witnessing the pluck and en- durance of our soldiers in all manner of embarassing situa- tions, and of admiring the skill and tact and unflagging devotion of officers who realized that under them were men eager to undertake the most daring service that could be exacted, for they were often cheerfully and confidently attacking three or four times their number.
After all, how little one man sees of the busy, bloody activities of a battle-field, when the participating armies reach the gigantic proportions of armies like those of Sherman and Johnston. Missionary Ridge offered perhaps the finest opportunity for an observer, for with one army posted on the heights overlooking the valley, and the other assailing on slopes that were only partially wooded, the whole panorama of the conflict stood out like a moving picture and the eye could trace the movements of the as- sailing force at least. But at Chickamauga, with a line of battle extending for miles through dense forests and over ridges, with here and there an open field, a brush-grown clearing or a peice of swampy land, a man with every possible freedom of movement as I had, can see compara- tively but a small part of the myriad activities of that thunderous and tummltuous struggle for mastery. Even in the ordinary affairs of life, we find that no two people witnessing the same incident give exactly the same ac- count of what transpired. How often do the reports of actions made officially by those in command, conflict in statement with some other officer reporting precisely the same engagement and the same movement! How often have I found the official report by an officer toned down and so corrected, that one wonders how such change of opinion could have happened between the day of engage- ment and the filing of the report. It all happens naturally enough. Commanders must be guided by reports of aides
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and other subalterns. Not all men retain under fire and in the fierce tumult of conflict, that cool, discriminating judg- ment they have under ordinary circumstances, and too hasty conclusions are reported and often mislead the officer in command. It is the possession of this power of of self control, of equipoise under exciting surroundings that constitutes one of the chief characteristics of the successful commander. Thomas and Grant and Sherman and Sheridan were particularly gifted in this direction. Some observers see much more than others, but reach wrong conclusions. Not knowing anything of the plans of battle, which should be known only to the general and his council of war, he is apt to interpret a spirited attack that costs many lives as a failure; when, in reality, it was only a feint to distract the attention of the enemy, and cover the real assault in another direction. Many of the fiercest and most sanguinary struggles were ordered to cover other movements. It has occured to me also that some so-called feints were conveniently so reported afterwards, when in fact the commanding general meant to take the enemy's position, and believed the movement would so result. I have in mind an instance just now. In front of Buzzard's Roost. where the Eighty-sixth Illinois had some experience and suffered some losses, I heard Gen. Sherman say to Gen. Thomas, "General send Jeff Davis up there and take that place." The remark was heard by many and it was evident that Sherman felt that the capture could be effected. I venture the statement that no one present on that occasion ever forgot the delayed response of Thomas, who said as he turned to Sherman, "General, I wish you would put that order in writing." The order was not issued.
By the way, many of the most daring deeds, many of the most conspicuous acts of individual heroism were per- formed in these by-plays by generals, who employ regi- ments and brigades and divisions and corps, just as the chess player handles his pieces on the boards. I heard General Sherman make just this comparison one night at Gen. Logan's headquarters as we were coming through the Carolinas. We reached that afternoon, one of the many swollen streams we encountered on that memorable march, and Gen. Logan had established his headquarters in a new frame dwelling in the vicinity of the crossing. The lowlands, covered with a thick growth of young cy- press for miles on either side, were overflowed for a dis- tance of perhaps 800 yards from the channel. On the oppo-
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site side, commanding the approach, the enemy had erected some earthworks and placed three or four guns. From the time we arrived until almost dark, our men had been engaged in a rifle fusilade in the effort to drive out the rebels, who, however, pertinaciously stuck to their works, and their sharpshooters inflicted some punishment, picking off men who had waded out waist deep in the water to get, as they termed it, "a whack at the Johnnies." That night we were greatly gratified to have a visit from Gen. Sherman, and I was permitted to enjoy the evening as one of the listeners. In the course of the conversation, Gen. Sherman said, "Logan, I am persuaded that the time will come when wars will be conducted more humanely and much after the manner of a game of chess. It will save the shedding of blood and much suffering, and the result of the campaign will depend more upon the tactful maneu- vering of the commanders. What I mean is this. Here we are with a swollen stream to cross and an enemy to oppose us who cannot do more than to kill and wound some of our men, for we shall cross somewhere. It will probably cost me 100 or 200 men, say. Under the plan I suggest I would offer Johnston, say 150 men for the crossing. At some other point where the advantages were with me, he would tender so many men, and so the game would be played, conflict and loss of life being avoided, except in cases where we could not agree as to the worth of the ad- vantage held by either, and in such cases, of course, there would be nothing to do but to fight it out." While this novel suggestion was being discussed with many an en- joyable sally of wit, we heard the sound of approaching horsemen at a gallop. Sherman listened a moment and Cried out, "That's news from Corse or Corse himself," and so it proved. When the army started from Savanna, Corse's division had been caught on the miry roads of the lowlands by the rising tide, that, on that coast, reaches far out into the interior, and there was imminent danger of his losing a good part of his wagon train. Sherman had left orders for him to "wiggle out" and follow the army as rapidly as his condition would permit. Several days had passed, and as nothing had been heard from Corse until that day, the general had left word at his headquarters that if Corse came to send for him or send Corse over to Logan's. In came the little battle-scarred hero of Altoona, all covered with mud and in a generally bedraggled condi- tion, and Gen. Sherman just gathered the little fellow in
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