THE FLAG-BEARER

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps;
His day is marching on.

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never beat retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment seat;
Oh! be swift, my soul, to answer him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.
--Julia Ward Howe.


THE FLAG-BEARER

In no war since the close of the great Napoleonic struggles has
the fighting been so obstinate and bloody as in the Civil War.
Much has been said in song and story of the resolute courage of
the Guards at Inkerman, of the charge of the Light Brigade, and
of the terrible fighting and loss of the German armies at Mars La
Tour and Gravelotte. The praise bestowed, upon the British and
Germans for their valor, and for the loss that proved their
valor, was well deserved; but there were over one hundred and
twenty regiments, Union and Confederate, each of which, in some
one battle of the Civil War, suffered a greater loss than any
English regiment at Inkerman or at any other battle in the
Crimea, a greater loss than was suffered by any German regiment
at Gravelotte or at any other battle of the Franco-Prussian war.
No European regiment in any recent struggle has suffered such
losses as at Gettysburg befell the 1st Minnesota, when 82 per
cent. of the officers and men were killed and wounded; or the
141st Pennsylvania, which lost 76 per cent.; or the 26th North
Carolina, which lost 72 per cent.; such as at the second battle
of Manassas befell the 101st New York, which lost 74 per cent.,
and the 21st Georgia, which lost 76 per cent. At Cold Harbor the
25th Massachusetts lost 70 per cent., and the 10th Tennessee at
Chickamauga 68 per cent.; while at Shiloh the 9th Illinois lost
63 per cent., and the 6th Mississippi 70 per cent.; and at
Antietam the 1st Texas lost 82 percent. The loss of the Light
Brigade in killed and wounded in its famous charge at Balaklava
was but 37 per cent.

These figures show the terrible punishment endured by these
regiments, chosen at random from the head of the list which shows
the slaughter-roll of the Civil War. Yet the shattered remnants
of each regiment preserved their organization, and many of the
severest losses were incurred in the hour of triumph, and not of
disaster. Thus, the 1st Minnesota, at Gettysburg, suffered its
appalling loss while charging a greatly superior force, which it
drove before it; and the little huddle of wounded and unwounded
men who survived their victorious charge actually kept both the
flag they had captured and the ground from which they had driven
their foes.

A number of the Continental regiments under Washington, Greene,
and Wayne did valiant fighting and endured heavy punishment.
Several of the regiments raised on the northern frontier in 1814
showed, under Brown and Scott, that they were able to meet the
best troops of Britain on equal terms in the open, and even to
overmatch them in fair fight with the bayonet. The regiments
which, in the Mexican war, under the lead of Taylor, captured
Monterey, and beat back Santa Anna at Buena Vista, or which, with
Scott as commander, stormed Molino Del Rey and Chapultepec,
proved their ability to bear terrible loss, to wrest victory from
overwhelming numbers, and to carry by open assault positions of
formidable strength held by a veteran army. But in none of these
three wars was the fighting so resolute and bloody as in the Civil War.

Countless deeds of heroism were performed by Northerner and by
Southerner, by officer and by private, in every year of the great
struggle. The immense majority of these deeds went unrecorded,
and were known to few beyond the immediate participants. Of those
that were noticed it would be impossible even to make a dry
catalogue in ten such volumes as this. All that can be done is to
choose out two or three acts of heroism, not as exceptions, but
as examples of hundreds of others. The times of war are iron
times, and bring out all that is best as well as all that is
basest in the human heart. In a full recital of the civil war, as
of every other great conflict, there would stand out in naked
relief feats of wonderful daring and self-devotion, and, mixed
among them, deeds of cowardice, of treachery, of barbarous
brutality. Sadder still, such a recital would show strange
contrasts in the careers of individual men, men who at one time
acted well and nobly, and at another time ill and basely. The
ugly truths must not be blinked, and the lessons they teach
should be set forth by every historian, and learned by every
statesman and soldier; but, for our good fortune, the lessons
best worth learning in the nation's past are lessons of heroism.

From immemorial time the armies of every warlike people have set
the highest value upon the standards they bore to battle. To
guard one's own flag against capture is the pride, to capture the
flag of one's enemy the ambition, of every valiant soldier. In
consequence, in every war between peoples of good military
record, feats of daring performed by color-bearers are honorably
common. The Civil War was full of such incidents. Out of very
many two or three may be mentioned as noteworthy.

One occurred at Fredericksburg on the day when half the brigades
of Meagher and Caldwell lay on the bloody slope leading up to the
Confederate entrenchments. Among the assaulting regiments was the
5th New Hampshire, and it lost one hundred and eighty-six out of
three hundred men who made the charge. The survivors fell
sullenly back behind a fence, within easy range of the
Confederate rifle-pits. Just before reaching it the last of the
color guard was shot, and the flag fell in the open. A Captain
Perry instantly ran out to rescue it, and as he reached it was
shot through the heart; another, Captain Murray, made the same
attempt and was also killed; and so was a third, Moore. Several
private soldiers met a like fate. They were all killed close to
the flag, and their dead bodies fell across one another. Taking
advantage of this breastwork, Lieutenant Nettleton crawled from
behind the fence to the colors, seized them, and bore back the
bloodwon trophy.

Another took place at Gaines' Mill, where Gregg's 1st South
Carolina formed part of the attacking force. The resistance was
desperate, and the fury of the assault unsurpassed. At one point
it fell to the lot of this regiment to bear the brunt of carrying
a certain strong position. Moving forward at a run, the South
Carolinians were swept by a fierce and searching fire. Young
James Taylor, a lad of sixteen, was carrying the flag, and was
killed after being shot down three times, twice rising and
struggling onward with the colors. The third time he fell the
flag was seized by George Cotchet, and when he, in turn, fell, by
Shubrick Hayne. Hayne was also struck down almost immediately,
and the fourth lad, for none of them were over twenty years old,
grasped the colors, and fell mortally wounded across the body of
his friend. The fifth, Gadsden Holmes, was pierced with no less
than seven balls. The sixth man, Dominick Spellman, more
fortunate, but not less brave, bore the flag throughout the rest
of the battle.

Yet another occurred at Antietam. The 7th Maine, then under the
command of Major T. W. Hyde, was one of the hundreds of regiments
that on many hard-fought fields established a reputation for dash
and unyielding endurance. Toward the early part of the day at
Antietam it merely took its share in the charging and long-range
firing, together with the New York and Vermont regiments which
were its immediate neighbors in the line. The fighting was very
heavy. In one of the charges, the Maine men passed over what had
been a Confederate regiment. The gray-clad soldiers were lying,
both ranks, privates and officers, as they fell, for so many had
been killed or disabled that it seemed as if the whole regiment
was prone in death.

Much of the time the Maine men lay on the battle-field, hugging
the ground, under a heavy artillery fire, but beyond the reach of
ordinary musketry. One of the privates, named Knox, was a
wonderful shot, and had received permission to use his own
special rifle, a weapon accurately sighted for very long range.
While the regiment thus lay under the storm of shot and shell, he
asked leave to go to the front; and for an hour afterward his
companions heard his rifle crack every few minutes. Major Hyde
finally, from curiosity, crept forward to see what he was doing,
and found that he had driven every man away from one section of a
Confederate battery, tumbling over gunner after gunner as they
came forward to fire. One of his victims was a general officer,
whose horse he killed. At the end of an hour or so, a piece of
shell took off the breech of his pet rifle, and he returned
disconsolate; but after a few minutes he gathered three rifles
that were left by wounded men, and went back again to his work.

At five o'clock in the afternoon the regiment was suddenly called
upon to undertake a hopeless charge, owing to the blunder of the
brigade commander, who was a gallant veteran of the Mexican war,
but who was also given to drink. Opposite the Union lines at this
point were some haystacks, near a group of farm buildings. They
were right in the center of the Confederate position, and
sharpshooters stationed among them were picking off the Union
gunners. The brigadier, thinking that they were held by but a few
skirmishers, rode to where the 7th Maine was lying on the ground,
and said: "Major Hyde, take your regiment and drive the enemy
from those trees and buildings." Hyde saluted, and said that he
had seen a large force of rebels go in among the buildings,
probably two brigades in all. The brigadier answered, "Are you
afraid to go, sir?" and repeated the order emphatically. "Give
the order, so the regiment can hear it, and we are ready, sir,"
said Hyde. This was done, and "Attention" brought every man to
his feet. With the regiment were two young boys who carried the
marking guidons, and Hyde ordered these to the rear. They
pretended to go, but as soon as the regiment charged came along
with it. One of them lost his arm, and the other was killed on
the field. The colors were carried by the color corporal, Harry
Campbell.

Hyde gave the orders to left face and forward and the Maine men
marched out in front of a Vermont regiment which lay beside them;
then, facing to the front, they crossed a sunken road, which was
so filled with dead and wounded Confederates that Hyde's horse
had to step on them to get over.

Once across, they stopped for a moment in the trampled corn to
straighten the line, and then charged toward the right of the
barns. On they went at the double-quick, fifteen skirmishers
ahead under Lieutenant Butler, Major Hyde on the right on his
Virginia thoroughbred, and Adjutant Haskell to the left on a big
white horse. The latter was shot down at once, as was his horse,
and Hyde rode round in front of the regiment just in time to see
a long line of men in gray rise from behind the stone wall of the
Hagerstown pike, which was to their right, and pour in a volley;
but it mostly went too high. He then ordered his men to left
oblique.

Just as they were abreast a hill to the right of the barns, Hyde,
being some twenty feet ahead, looked over its top and saw several
regiments of Confederates, jammed close together and waiting at
the ready; so he gave the order left flank, and, still at the
double quick, took his column past the barns and buildings toward
an orchard on the hither side, hoping that he could get them back
before they were cut off, for they were faced by ten times their
number. By going through the orchard he expected to be able to
take advantage of a hollow, and partially escape the destructive
flank fire on his return.

To hope to keep the barns from which they had driven the
sharpshooters was vain, for the single Maine regiment found
itself opposed to portions of no less than four Confederate
brigades, at least a dozen regiments all told. When the men got
to the orchard fence, Sergeant Benson wrenched apart the tall
pickets to let through Hyde's horse. While he was doing this, a
shot struck his haversack, and the men all laughed at the sight
of the flying hardtack.

Going into the orchard there was a rise of ground, and the
Confederates fired several volleys at the Maine men, and then
charged them. Hyde's horse was twice wounded, but was still able
to go on.

No sooner were the men in blue beyond the fence than they got
into line and met the Confederates, as they came crowding behind,
with a slaughtering fire, and then charged, driving them back.
The color corporal was still carrying the colors, though one of
his arms had been broken; but when half way through the orchard,
Hyde heard him call out as he fell, and turned back to save the
colors, if possible.

The apple-trees were short and thick, and he could not see much,
and the Confederates speedily got between him and his men.
Immediately, with the cry of "Rally, boys, to save the Major,"
back surged the regiment, and a volley at arm's length again
destroyed all the foremost of their pursuers; so they rescued
both their commander and the flag, which was carried off by
Corporal Ring.

Hyde then formed the regiment on the colors, sixty-eight men all
told, out of two hundred and forty who had begun the charge, and
they slowly marched back toward their place in the Union line,
while the New Yorkers and Vermonters rose from the ground
cheering and waving their hats. Next day, when the Confederates
had retired a little from the field, the color corporal,
Campbell, was found in the orchard, dead, propped up against a
tree, with his half-smoked pipe beside him.

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