The Blue and The Gray

And the pleasant-faced soldier gave Ralph a gentle push as he gathered himself up, and made a jump for one of the fires that were burning in different spots, kindled by the hungry men to boil their coffee, or cook a bit, before they took up the march again. The other followed closely at his heels, and sitting on a fallen log they were soon busy "fortifying their inner man," amid much laughing and chaffing going on around them.

That is a marked trait of the American soldier, be he from North or South. No amount of hardship, no deprivations, can destroy that love of fun which is inborn. He is always ready to see the comic side of all situations, as he merrily laughs at danger, and jokes almost in the very presence of death.

That day General Pemberton was overtaken at the Big Black. Here he had stationed his main body on high land, but on the east of the stream the ground was low and wet, and on this spot the remainder of his command was held.

"We have got to dislodge Pemberton from his position," Ralph heard a comrade say. "He has a splendid view of all we are doing, and can make a stanch resistance. But we'll soon set him running again, and he'll have to find a better lookout than the one he now occupies."

"See!" shouted Ralph. "General Lawler is leading the attack on their right flank. They give way—they fall back! The General is in his shirt sleeves, and looks as if he were in earnest!"

"Shouldn't wonder if he was. He's a hard one to tackle, and won't stand on ceremony. He don't go into battle in a full dress suit. Just look over there. Pemberton is retreating, skedaddling. His men have set fire to that bridge, and how is he going to cover the retreat of his rear guard down there in the bayou?"

"He's not trying to save them at all, but is looking after No. One. By George, he's off, and has left those poor fellows to be captured, or shot down, he don't care which."

It was true. He ran away in mad haste, making no effort to cover their retreat, but abandoned the panic-stricken men in the lowland to their fate. Wild with terror, with no leader to direct, many of them flung themselves into the river, only to sink beneath the waters, and those who were left were taken prisoners by the Federals.

CHAPTER XVIII. CROSSING THE RIVER

GENERAL GRANT set to work at once building bridges by which to cross the Big Black. General Sherman's corps were soon busy felling trees and laying planks. A raft bridge was now constructed, and a bridge was also hurried together, with cotton bales for pontoons. The next step was to cut trees on each side of the river in such a manner that their trunks were not severed, but clung to the stumps. In falling across the stream, their boughs met and grasped each other firmly, and the planks laid across them made a secure road, over which the troops passed, while the two Generals, Grant and Sherman, sat on a log and watched the living mass of blue-coats march over, with the smoky, ruddy light of pitch pine torches throwing their weird shadows over the scene. It was a wild and picturesque panorama. The vast body of human beings moving fearlessly across the swaying structure, the fitful gleams of light reflecting from their muskets, the two great generals sitting there as calmly as though watching a festive procession—the somber depths of the forest on either side, where danger lurked in many shapes—what heart could fail to be impressed by the solemn spectacle?

By the morning of the 18th that vast army had crossed to the west side of the river, but the rebel general had not waited to receive them, but flown, without attempting to give them battle. He hastened to the city of Vicksburg, behind whose walls he found shelter. He was speedily followed by Grant, who got his army in position, placing General Sherman on the right of the line, General McPherson on the left of Sherman, and McClernand next, his command touching the river below Vicksburg. Sharp resistance was offered, and the Confederates lost ground in a skirmish on the 19th, but made an onset which almost regained it for them, but the National troops checked their assault and moved to a more advantageous position. The Federal forces were nearly famished, for rations for five days had to do duty for three weeks, eked out by what they could confiscate from the people as they marched through the country, one of General Grant's first steps was to make roads in the rear of his line, so that supplies could be obtained more easily. These roads ran through swamps and miry places, where no team could force its way.

"We are expecting an attack from Johnston. He has been laid up with the wound he received at Seven Pines, and has all the Mississippi forces under him," Ralph's captain said to him. "Our line of defences is thrown out six or seven miles, so I hear," answered Ralph. "We are well prepared for them."

"That is true, but we may look for an attack in our rear. McClernand reports that he has taken two forts, and is in imminent danger, and sends a request for reinforcements at once."

Ere he finished speaking, the ball was opened vigorously.

The river heights were fortified strongly, earthworks rearing their heads for miles, bristling with guns, against which the Union army hurled its strength in vain. Grants purpose was to carry the works by storm, but though splendid courage was shown, and the color-bearers at many points reached the breastworks and planted flags upon them, they proved impregnable.

When Ralph saw their efforts, he could not repress his enthusiasm, but shouted—"Hurrah! Our flag is floating on the breeze. We shall soon be in the city!"

His excitement was contagious, and with a ringing shout the advancing men hurled themselves vigorously against the obstructions, only to be driven back slowly but surely.

"General Grant has just received a dispatch saying that McClernand has two forts of the enemy in his possession. A brigade has been sent to his aid, and firing has been resumed-Boys, at them with a will!"

As they entered a cut in the road, Ralph saw the color sergeant of one of the Illinois regiments, who could scarcely stand from fright. The balls were whistling by their ears, the leaves of the trees were falling in showers, scattered by the rifles' fire. The man was ashy pale, and his knees trembled so he could not stand erect. Ralph thought of what he had related to boys months ago, about the French soldier, but this, he saw, was not a parallel case, for this man was clearly a coward, and as he watched him, he expected to see him fall down, and trail the colors after him. The man saw that he was observed, and he made one desperate effort to raise himself to his full height, but suddenly the pleasant-faced man who had taken interest in Ralph sprang forward, wrested the flag from the cowardly fellow, and carried it valiantly to the front.

Ralph looked for the sergeant. He had shrunk to the rear, and was busy hiding behind a huge tree which towered above the field.

"Thank heaven!" said Ralph, "our flag was saved." He felt sure that his new friend, who was corporal of the color guard, would be rewarded in some way, but the soldier who had rescued the flag, when summoned before the commanding officer, and offered promotion to color sergeant, promptly refused it, unless the one who had so belittled his trust were reduced to the ranks. This was not done, for some reason, but the man who had rescued the colors was made a sergeant—a deserved promotion.

The rumor proved false, for General McClernand, so far from taking the two forts, had been repulsed, and the men who were sent to help him were many of them killed; they were made the victims of a misstatement, to put it as mildly as possible. A short time after, General Grant relieved him of further responsibility, and General Ord succeeded him.

This assault was a costly one, for two thousand five hundred men were sacrificed, and Grant determined to besiege the city. He went to the rear, earth-works were thrown up, and mines were dug under the fortifications. By day and by night the big guns were booming across the space, which daily grew narrower, as the Union soldiers brought the trenches nearer to the line of defense. Those were days that tried their courage and patience, but not a murmur was heard.

One day a great commotion took place among the soldiers. Three objects were seen whirling through the air, and fell in the Union lines, within five feet of where Ralph was standing.

"What is it? Where did it come from?" was the query, as several hastened to the spot, to find three men, two white ones lying on the ground dead, and one negro nearly so.

"Something struck some one that time," Corporal Calvin Strong said. "See—the colored man's coming to."

And so he was, and as he raised up, he began to rub his head, and look wildly about.

"Say, he's contraband of war, and we must confiscate him," the Corporal continued, laughingly.

"Whar—whar be I? Is dis yere de bottomless pit?" the black man asked.

"Yes, Sam, you've arrived at your proper destination, and now you've got to be flogged every day, until your sins are all paid for."

"Oh, massa, spare a poor cullered boy who neber did nuffing wuss den steal a chicken, or grab a few eggs. Neber did no mo'." And falling on his knees he began to jabber away in pure fright.

"Get up, you black rascal; you're in the Union lines now," Sergeant Harmon said, as he pulled the shaking darkey to his feet.

"Bress de Lawd! In de Union? I'se whar I'll git sumfin to eat, now, sure."

"How far did you come, Sam?"

"Bout free miles. I'se come to stay, too. I'll neber go back dar any mo'."

And Black Sam did stay, and made one of the most faithful of servants. He often referred to his first appearance among the soldiers. When the mine exploded at Fort Hill, it killed the two white men, but by some miracle Sam escaped, and when he recovered consciousness, and found himself surrounded by men black with powder and dust, he had really fancied that he had landed in a certain world where they tell us cold is unknown.

Day after day the noise of the great guns was heard. Shells were thrown into the beleaguered town, and much injury was inflicted. Vicksburg at this time might be called a city of caves, for they were dug in the banks wherever a street was cut through a clayey hill, and these caves were tenanted by entire families, who lived in comparative safety, while shells and balls were whizzing over their heads. Nor did the darkness bring a cessation of hostilities, the night proving no barrier to Grant's vigorous attack. As the two lines came nearer together, a mutual understanding was had, after this fashion:

"Well, Yank, how are you getting along?"

"Oh, fine. We'll soon be over there to see you. Have the ice-cream and cake all ready, for it's a hot day."

"Oh, that'll be 'all right. We'll freeze you out sure. Say, you come up on top where we can get a look at you."

"If you'll put your old guns away, and not pop at us, we'll come up."

"That's a bargain. We promise. But you must do the same by us."

"Agreed—that's fair enough." And true to their word, they would show themselves, and a running fire of jokes and ridicule would be launched at each other.

"Say, Johnnie, how are the hotels over there? Engage us rooms at the best one, for we want good accommodations when we get there."

"We have everything fine, and are waiting to receive you in first-class shape."

"Good eating?"

"The choicest cuts of mule-steaks, roasts, soups, any shape you order it. Say, Yank, what's the news your way?"

"Oh, were having a jolly time. We've got everything we want, save your town, and when we get that, the old mud stream will be open for a sail way down to the Gulf."

"Well, you won't take your sail very soon, then, for you'll never get Vicksburg. Say, have yer got any terbacker?"

"Lots of it. Want some?" Then the exchange would be made, and after this friendly pause, both sides would resume hostilities, as earnestly as ever.

Work in the trenches brought the prospect of subduing the almost invulnerable heights nearer and nearer. Famine threatened the besieged city, with its horrors. Forty-four days had been consumed in laying siege. Soldiers lay down in the same clothes which they had worn through all these weary weeks of bloodshed and resistance.

General Pemberton sent a flag of truce to General Grant, and negotiations were carried on, but the Federal commander was now prepared for a final grand assault. The Fourth of July was near, supplies had given out within the walls, and the Confederate general, who had held out bravely, surrendered without making any conditions.

General Grant took possession in a most magnanimous manner. By his express command not a man of his army was permitted to cheer; not a single salute was fired, and silently, with dignity and generosity, the half-starved Confederates were fed bountifully, the Union soldiers emptying their own knapsacks, and giving their contents to them. All the prisoners taken at Vicksburg and those at Port Hudson were paroled, under the supposition that they would return to their homes, and await a proper exchange.

War has its humor as well as peace. The help afforded by Porters fleet and Farragut's had been considerable during the siege. The Confederates had sunk the Indianola, one of Porter's boats, and were trying to raise it, when they saw a monitor coming down full upon them. Admiral Porter had fitted up an old flatboat with pork barrels for smoke stacks, and furnaces made from mud, in which a fire had been started. He sent it sailing down the river, with not a human being on board, to the evident terror of the Confederates, who were watching her and who fired point blank at her, without stopping the supposed monitor. Dreading lest they would lose their prize, they promptly blew up the Indianola, before they discovered that they were sold.

CHAPTER XIX. THE PROCLAMATION

BLACKS were constantly coming into the Union lines, and though it was a hard problem to dispose of them, yet General Grant's care of them was most humane. Few among them were aware of the immortal proclamation of Abraham Lincoln, but believed themselves still subject to their old masters.

The colored folks all through the war had shown very friendly feelings toward the Union army, as many an act of kindness at their hands had testified. Those who came into camp, as well as the white refugees, were put to various labors. Surely no race, save the African, ever produced such a quantity of culinary artists, judging from the claims they set up. Whenever a darkey was queried as to his calling, whether he had been a field hand or a house servant, he always answered that he was "a fust-rate cook, massa; can gib yo' some fust-class dishes."

"Still more good news, boys; General Lee has been routed at Gettysburg, and several of his generals killed or wounded. Among the latter is General Wade Hampton. Lee's brilliant sortie has been checked by three of the hardest days' fighting ever witnessed in this war. Both armies fought like demons. But we have driven Lee and his followers off the soil of Virginia. General Meade, the master spirit, has given them a taste of his fine generalship.

"He's never jealous of his officers under him—that is another trait of his," spoke up a man who had fought under him.

"Yes, and Pickett, with his magnificent column, was there, and was nearly annihilated, for he lost nearly every officer he had."

"The fight was hottest, they say, at Round Top. The Confed sharpshooters held Devil's Den, and a ghostly place it is. I know every inch of the ground, for I was born three miles from there," said another man.

"How strange," said Ralph, "that two such glorious victories should follow each other—Gettysburg in the East, and Vicksburg in the Southwest. General Lee has been instructed that an invasion of the North is impossible, and we have cut the Confederacy in two by opening the Mississippi to navigation from Cairo to the Gulf. Surely, the God of battles is on our side," he reverently continued, for Ralph knew that without His overruling care, we are but naught.

The martyrs of Gettysburg, those who had laid down their lives for universal liberty, were not forgotten by A National cemetery, in which the soldiers' who fell in that campaign were to be buried, was laid out. The ground was dedicated on the 19th of November, 1861, and here, with the wintry winds making music round their graves, the remains of 3,560 brave men were laid to rest, according to the order of their respective States. It was a fitting tribute to bravery, and the occasion was most impressive.

Edward Everett was chosen as the orator of the day. President Lincoln was invited to honor the event by his presence, and he received a gentle hint that his voice would be a welcome tribute.

He came, with no speech prepared, save a few fugitive thoughts which he scratched down on an old envelope, on his way to Gettysburg, and intended solely as references.

When he was called on, he rose, and in his simple, unaffected way he gave to his hearers an immortal speech.

A long time after its delivery, Mr. Lincoln, at the urgent request of friends, rewrote it and affixed his signature.

The copy gives an exact facsimile of his handwriting, and thus in a double sense it becomes a most valuable addition to one's reading matter.

The days of idleness had not come to them yet. Victory did not mean inaction. They were embarked on board a steamer, bound for Natchez, Mississippi, which town was taken with little resistance. They also seized several pieces of artillery, a large number of prisoners, and 5,000 head of cattle designed for use in the Southern army. A quantity of Government stores fell into their hands, also. At Natchez they were detailed to do provost duty.

This was to Ralph a pleasant change from the awful scenes of carnage he had been a participant in. The morning of September 1st the regiment was ordered out to attack a body of rebels who were harassing the Union people at St. Catharine's Creek.

They found a small force stationed here who were levying contributions from the country around, but they promptly drove them back to their hiding-places. At Cross Bayou, Louisiana, they were again called into action, and suppressed the guerrilla bands who preyed on all alike.

Guerrilla warfare is most exasperating. The West was full of these vicious and irresponsible men, who, under a leader of courage and brains, would unite to prey on and murder rich and poor alike. They could skulk in the depths of the woods, and dash out upon their victims, and after gratifying their murderous designs, they would flee to their homes and lie in concealment till some new exploit would reveal their lurking place. Probably the best organized and most reckless of these bands was led by Colonel John S. Mosby, whose daring deeds made his name a terror. His raids were remarkable for their boldness and success. He never was captured, although his band was thinned often by the frequent efforts on the part of the Federals to bring him to justice.

"We are ordered back to Vicksburg, to do provost duty there," the captain informed his men, who heard it with variable feelings.

Grumbling was heard from some of the younger ones, who were anxious to be "at the front," and to them acting as provost guards smacked too much of being kept in the background. The older ones heard the news with much satisfaction, however.

They returned to Vicksburg, with very different emotions to those they felt just after the surrender of General Pemberton, and even though they were not welcomed, their coming insured peace and protection from the contentions without, and the rough element within. Doing post duty is quite as necessary as constant warfare, but few were the occasions for interference on the part of the soldiers.

Skirmishes were frequent, but the days of the rebellion were drawing to a close. The Confederates realized that the hours of the Confederacy were numbered, but still they struggled on. How ardently Ralph wished that peace would dawn. He abhorred the bloodshed that the protracted conflict entailed.

Time passed heavily, and he began to fret at the duty assigned. Events so brilliant that everything paled before them were transpiring elsewhere, and the boys spirit burned to be in the fray.

Morgan, the Confederate guerrilla, had planned a bold raid across the Ohio, and had captured Columbia and Lebanon, Kentucky, seized two steamers, and, going into Indiana, had left a trail of ruin and destruction behind him, as he hastened toward Cincinnati, burning bridges and stores, tearing up railroad tracks, and plundering every one, irrespective of their views. How far his depredations would have been carried, cannot be judged, but at Buffington Ford he was pursued so closely that he was driven make a stand and fight. Here he was defeated, and, fleeing up the stream, was again attacked at New Lisbon, where he surrendered, and was sent to the Ohio penitentiary, but a few months later he dug under the walls and fled.

July 18 the regiment was again aroused by receiving orders to move on to Grand Gulf, Mississippi, where a large force of Confederates were posted. They found them waiting for them, and gave battle at once, taking a few prisoners, who were sent to the military post for future exchange.

The awful Battle of the Wilderness had gone down into history, with its record of unparalleled daring, and its list of 60,000 dead on the two sides, sending up a wail to Heaven. It was in this fatal battle that General Longstreet, of the Confederate army, received a severe wound on the same ground and under a similar mistake, as that which cost Stonewall Jackson his life, a year before The General was returning from the front, when he was seen by some of his own men, and fired upon, under the supposition that he belonged to the National cavalry.

The Atlanta campaign, which had added to General Sherman's everlasting renown, had lost to the Union cause one of its bravest generals—the brilliant McPherson, who lost his life by venturing into the woods almost alone, where he was shot by the Confederates, and his horse dashed into the Union lines bleeding, but riderless.

The Confederate vessel Alabama, commanded by Raphael Semmes, was at Cherbourg, France. She had been cruising round for two years, preying upon American commerce. The United States man of war, Kearsarge, Captain John A. Winslow, lay off the port, expecting Semmes to come out. The latter sent a polite request to Winslow, asking him not to leave those waters, as he intended to fight him. This was exactly Captain Winslow's wish. On Sunday, June 19, the Alabama went out of the harbor with flying colors, only to be lured off eight miles from the coast, by Captain Winslow, who then turned and attacked the enemy.

After the Kearsarge began the battle, the firing was terrific and her shots told heavily. Captain Winslow's shells cut the mizzenmast of the Alabama in two. The crew were half of them killed by a shell, and the gunners had been swept away. After an hour's battle, it was seen that the Alabama was sinking, her officers struck their colors, and threw the swords, that would no longer avail against their adversary, into the sea.

Captain Winslow lowered boats from his vessel to save the remaining crew of the Alabama, when suddenly her stern went down, her bow was tossed into the air and the Alabama went to the bottom, carrying nearly all the men. Semmes was picked up by a yacht, with forty sailors, the Kearsarge rescued some, and all the rest were drowned.

The autumn had come. October had put on its gaudy dress, and the Seventy-second were still in Vicksburg. By their sedate and manly bearing and perfect discipline, they had won the friendly toleration of the very people who had dreaded their coming, but who now felt secure in the protection of their property.

Business had been to a certain degree resumed, quiet had settled down over the city, and the great events of that year were had in the papers from the North, which came freely into the city.

"At last we are going to move again," said Ralph, as they gathered round headquarters. "We are to report to General Howard and go with Sherman on his 'March to the Sea.'"

"Well, it'll be a relief, for this sort of life is too much like playing soldier to suit me," a gray-haired private responded.

It was a light-hearted body of men who left Vicksburg that day, but when they reached Nashville, they were disappointed to learn that they were too late to join Sherman, but the Seventeenth Corps was cut off and assigned to General Schofield's Command, then stationed at Columbia, Tennessee. It was approaching winter's rigors, and General Hood had harassed the Federal army at all points, and was trying to persuade Sherman away from Atlanta. When he found he could not do so, he massed his whole strength for the purpose of destroying General Thomas' forces. Turning his face in the direction of Nashville, he met a barrier in the heavy rains which had fallen, rendering the roads almost impassable, and it was well into November before he reached Duck River, forty miles south of Nashville.