File:Civil War stories (1905) (14739811086).jpg

Identifier: civilwarstories00newy (find matches)
Title: Civil War stories
Year: 1905 (1900s)
Authors:
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, The Century co.
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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bees, only they have such a terribly sharpsting. Here they come, boys; we 11 have to go inat them on a charge, I guess! Creeping closearound the corner of the log-house, I can see thelong lines of gray sweeping up in fine style overthe fields; but I feel the Colonels hand on myshoulder. Keep back, my boy; no use exposing yourselfin that way. As I get back behind the house and look around,an old man is seen approaching our line throughthe orchard in the rear. He is dressed in a long,blue, swallow-tailed coat and high silk hat, andcoming up to the Colonel, he asks: Would you let an old chap like me have achance to fight in your ranks, Colonel? Can you shoot? inquires the Colonel. Oh yes, I can shoot, I reckon, says he. But where are your cartridges ? I ve got em here, sir, says the old man,,slapping his hand on his pantaloons pocket. H CIVIL WAR STORIES And so old John Burns/ of whom everyschool-boy has heard, takes his place in the lineand loads and fires with the best of them, and is
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THE OLD HERO OF GETTYSBURG A DRUMMER-BOY AT GETTYSBURG 115 left wounded and insensible on the field when theday is done. Reclining there under a tree while the skirmish-ing is going on in front and the shells are tearingup the sod around us, I observe how evidentlyhard pressed is that battery yonder in the edge ofthe wood, about fifty yards to our right. Theenemys batteries have excellent range on the poorfellows serving it. And when the smoke lifts orrolls away in great clouds for a moment, we cansee the men running, and ramming, and sighting,and firing, and swabbing, and changing positionevery few minutes to throw the enemys guns outof range a little. The men are becoming terriblyfew, but nevertheless their guns, with a rapiditythat seems unabated, belch forth great clouds ofsmoke and send the shells shrieking over theplain. Meanwhile, events occur which give us some-thing more to think of than mere skirmishing andshelling. Our beloved Brigadier-general, step-ping out a moment to re

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