Chickamauga. Useless, Disastrous Battle

The volunteer soldiers were not only brave always, but they were sensible always. They complained very loudly when they had a right to complain, and they submitted to every hardship without complaint when there was necessity for it. Let me illustrate that. After the battle of Chickamauga my regiment was sent north of Chattanooga, on the north side of the river, to guard the river for forty miles. We were without rations for animals or men, living on a few grains of corn gathered from the rubbish left in the fields where all the corn had been taken long before, and unripe chestnuts, that we had to cut down the chestnut trees to gather. But we had a pack mule train, seventy-five mules with pack-saddles, and I sent the train over the mountains to bring rations from Bridgeport for the men of my regiment. One night we heard that the pack mule train loaded with rations was encamped on the mountain above Poe's Tavern, and would be down in the morning about 10 o'clock. That was joyful news for the men of my regiment. But at 8 o'clock the next morning I received a letter from General Garfield, Chief of Staff of the Army of the Cumberland, ordering me not to take one ration from the train, but to send the train on to Chattanooga. I gave the information to the men of my regiment. Did they complain? No. Not one man made one word of complaint. When the train came along about 10 o'clock, without any order of any kind, the men of the Ninety-Second lined up by the side of the road, swinging their hats and cheering when their own rations went by and onward toward Chattanooga, where their brave comrades of the Army of the Cumberland could not get green chestnuts to eat. That was the kind of men that composed the volunteer Army of the Union who saved the Republic.

Some of them are here tonight. They compose your Grand Army post here in Mendota. Honor them while yet you may, for, in only a few years more, the last one of that Grand Army will have gone beyond the dark river.

But the young men of today are as patriotic as the young men of 1861, and if the time ever comes when the Republic is in danger they will spring to arms and repeat the heroic deeds of their fathers, and the Republic will last "until the sun grows cold, and the stars are old, and the leaves of the judgment book unfold."