Class 
 
 Book , h z^ 
 
 Copyright N° 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 
 
The Twin 
 Seven-Shooters. 
 
CHARLES F. MANDERSON 
 Colonel 19th Ohio Infantry. 
 Brevet Brigadier General Volunteers, U. 
 
 S. A. 
 
The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES F. MANDERSON 
 
 LATB COLONEL I9TH OHIO VOLUNTEER INFANTRY, BREVET 
 BRIGADIER-GENERAL VOLS., U.S.A. 
 
 F. TENNYSON NEELY 
 
 1 14 Fifth Avenue 
 NEW YORK 
 
 96 Queen Street 
 LONDON 
 
I 
 
 MAR J3 1905 
 
 -.vouyntrm tutry 
 
 Ol_',Si> /? XAc. Not 
 
 COPT a. 
 
 Copyright, 1902, 
 
 by 
 
 CHARLES F. MANDERSON, 
 
 in the 
 
 United States 
 
 and 
 
 Great Britain. 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, 
 London. 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
 The Twin Seven-Shoottrt. 
 
"We came into the world like brother and 
 
 brother, 
 And now let's go hand in hand, not one 
 before another." 
 — Dromio, in "Comedy of Errors." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Prologue 5 
 
 SCENE I. 
 The Battle -.-. 9 
 
 SCENE II. 
 The Presentation 24 
 
 SCENE III. 
 The Capture 29 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 The Reunion -.- 44 
 
 Epilogue 51 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The telling of this truthful story of the 
 Great War comes from the numerous re- 
 quests of comrades, who knew somewhat 
 of the presentation, the capture and the 
 return of the pair of revolvers that came 
 together after a quarter of a century of 
 separation and after they had been carried 
 and used under two flags. Their restora- 
 tion could not have been had under any 
 other condition than that which came 
 about at the close of our gigantic struggle. 
 
 The Civil War was waged on both the 
 Federal and Confederate sides with an in- 
 tensity and manly vigor characteristic of 
 
iv Introduction. 
 
 the race that sprang from the loins of the 
 Puritan and the Cavalier. 
 
 The immense hosts that combated upon 
 so many dreadful fields, with the incident 
 sacrifice of life and limb, while actuated 
 by the desire to win, by comparison with 
 which individual loss counted as nothing, 
 were never prompted by personal hatred 
 or ill will. They fought to obtain the re- 
 sult desired, and when the end came, with 
 its feeling of exultation by the one and of 
 depression by the other, there was mutual 
 respect and common consideration, that 
 led naturally to a reunited country and 
 the placing of the Great Republic in its 
 present position as the Chiefest of Nations. 
 
 The story permits a description of two 
 great battles — that of Murfreesboro, or 
 Stone's River, and of Chattanooga, or Mis- 
 sion Ridge — the first-named one of the 
 
Introduction. v 
 
 hardest fought fields of the War, and the 
 last, one of the most spectacular. The re- 
 cital of these calls for no explanation, and 
 I hope the personal equation of the story 
 needs no apology. 
 
 Charles P. Manderson, 
 
 Late Colonel, 19th Regiment 
 
 Ohio Infantry. 
 BVt Brig. Gen. Vols., U. S. A. 
 
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PROLOGUE. 
 
 Resting quietly in their polished case of 
 dark mahogany, with its soft lining of tufted 
 crimson silk, they look harmless indeed and 
 as though their lives had been uneventful. 
 Yet, could they speak with other tongues 
 than those of fire and smoke, they could tell 
 a tale to interest and thrill — of scenes of 
 bloody encounter and deadly strife, of com- 
 bat and carnage, of victory and defeat, of 
 raid and destruction, of pursuit and capture, 
 of loss and recovery, of separation and re- 
 union, — in short, the exciting story of war, 
 and the captivating tale of peace. 
 
 You take up the pair of revolvers with a 
 new interest. Yes! they are handsome. 
 
6 Prologue. 
 
 Shapely and well proportioned, they deserve 
 your exclamation of admiration. The blued 
 steel of barrels and cylinders contrasts at- 
 tractively with the silver mounting of the 
 handles, so well fitted to the grasp. 
 
 You take them in hand ! You glance 
 along the sights ! Ah ! my friend, time was 
 when the threatening glint of the eye that 
 brought these sights in line was quite dif- 
 ferent from the gentle light in yours. And 
 now you read inquiringly the inscription, 
 showing the presentation, deeply engraved 
 upon the silver handle band of each seven 
 shooter. Yes, I am the regimental com- 
 mander to whom they were presented, by the 
 braves of the gallant 19th Regiment of Ohio 
 Infantry, nearly forty years ago. I had 
 lived but little over half that many years, 
 when they came to me and, since the date 
 you read upon them, I have grown grizzled. 
 
Prologue. 7 
 
 The scene of the presentation, the causes 
 that led to it and the after events of note, are 
 as vivid as though they were of yesterday 
 and yet there is the strange feeling as though 
 I spoke of some other and not of myself. 
 I take it that most of us who served through 
 those four momentous years of gigantic war 
 now feel as though the experiences were 
 those of a third person, of whom we had 
 knowledge, intimate indeed, but with whom 
 we had not identity. As you ask for the 
 story, it shall be given unto you. 
 
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The Twin Seven-Shooters* 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 THE BATTLE. 
 
 The recital will start fairly on Christmas 
 day of the year 1862, near Nashville, in the 
 camps of the Army of the Cumberland, then 
 commanded by General Rosecrans. 
 
 The festive holiday time had increased the 
 usually present disease, until home-sickness 
 was the all-pervading complaint. As the 
 picket peered through the gloomy air under 
 the dull, wintry sky, he saw, in his mind's 
 eye, the dear ones at home, gathered about 
 the yule-log. The sentry's thoughts were 
 far away, as he challenged the approaching 
 
10 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 guard, that brought relief, but gave none 
 save in name, and received the sharp replies, 
 so different from the words of good cheer 
 properly incident to the time. The men 
 gathered about the camp fires during the 
 evening hours with abortive attempts at 
 merriment, soon to be given up, and then to 
 talk in whispers of friends and family and 
 home. The bugle calls, holding out the 
 promise that balmy sleep might bring for- 
 getf ulness, were welcomed ; although tattoo 
 seemed a wail, and lights-out a sob. 
 
 The restless quiet of a great military camp 
 comes at last. A nest of sleeping souls, it 
 heaves with sound. The sentinels look like 
 stalking ghosts. 
 
 After midnight the dreaming sleepers are 
 disturbed by the clank of the sabre of the 
 orderly, seeking the headquarters of regi- 
 ments to deliver an important order. Be 
 
The Battle. ll 
 
 quick ! Light the candle stuck in the bay- 
 onet shank at the head of the ground bed 
 where lies the regimental commander. 
 
 Ah! Here is a Christmas gift with a 
 vengeance! Read! 
 
 "You will place your command in readi- 
 ness to march at daylight. Move very light 
 —three days' rations in haversacks and two 
 days' in wagons. Forty rounds of ammuni- 
 tion on each man, with all the reserve am- 
 munition in wagons. Take no tents and no 
 baggage." 
 
 A battle order! Up and be stirring, for 
 there is much to be done before daylight. 
 Sleepers are aroused, their dreams of home 
 and its festivities rudely disturbed, tents are 
 struck and rolled, and, with the baggage and 
 surplus stores packed into wagons to be sent 
 within the earth-works of Nashville. 
 
 Reveille finds the Army of the Cumber- 
 
12 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 land, nearly fifty thousand strong, on the 
 march to attack the Confederates under 
 Bragg at Murfreesborough, thirty miles 
 away. No holiday march this, I assure 
 you. The enemy is alert. He harasses 
 our front with artillery, attacks our flanks 
 with infantry and harries our rear with 
 cavalry. The elements seem in league with 
 him, for snow, sleet and rain make heavy 
 roads, at which men swear and in which 
 wagons and artillery flounder and stall. 
 
 Four days of skirmishing and hard march- 
 ing, with four nights of unrest and chilly 
 misery bring us to our objective — the enemy. 
 He has selected his battle ground on the 
 bank of Stone's River, a swift stream, in 
 places fordable. 
 
 The night of December 30th we slept, or 
 essayed to sleep, upon our arms, without 
 fires. Never can I forget the dispirited and 
 
The Battle. 13 
 
 woe-begone look of the men as, rising from 
 the frozen ground, they shook themselves at 
 daylight. The hoar-frost covered them, giv- 
 ing to the uniforms of blue a new color, re- 
 sembling somewhat the grey of the foe. Is 
 there fighting quality in this line of shiver- 
 ing men? Can the battle fire be kindled 
 in these chilled frames? A cold breakfast 
 from the haversacks, a tin cup of coffee to 
 each man, a warming drill in the manual of 
 arms and their appearance is changed for 
 the better. 
 
 The order comes! We are to cross 
 Stone's River at the lower ford and lead the 
 attack upon the enemy's right. Rosecrans 
 will strike with his left. 
 
 An inspection of the guns, a distribution 
 of ammunition, filling both cartridge boxes 
 and haversacks, some words of encourage- 
 ment and cheer from the youthful com- 
 
14 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 mander, and we move to the river bank, to 
 find our crossing, by wading the cold stream, 
 unopposed by the enemy. We form in line 
 of battle upon the other side and are about 
 to advance to the attack, when the sound of 
 cannon, heard but faintly from our right a 
 short time ago, becomes louder and more 
 loud. A terrific battle is raging there and 
 the movement of sound means our men are 
 being driven. We are halted. There is stir 
 and excitement among the division staff. 
 We are ordered to recross the river and has- 
 ten to the support of the right wing. 
 
 Bragg, actuated by the same motive as 
 Rosecrans, conceiving the same plan, had 
 attacked our right, but his fresh and shel- 
 tered troops struck their blow at an earlier 
 hour. They doubled our line back upon 
 itself. They took our straight bar of iron 
 
The Battle. 15 
 
 and bent it into a horse-shoe. Our right 
 flank had become our rear. 
 
 Defeat seemed imminent. On our hur- 
 ried way, the 19th Ohio, leading Crittenden's 
 Division, met horses, teams and men in con- 
 fusion most confounded. Rousseau, of Ken- 
 tucky, riding bare-headed, cries to me, 
 "What troops are these?" and to my answer 
 says, with tearful entreaty in his voice, "For 
 God's sake ! get quickly to the cedars on our 
 right and stop this rout." We hasten on. 
 Rosecrans, pale with anguish of the thought 
 that Garesche, bosom friend and Chief of 
 Staff, had just been killed by his side, but- 
 determined of purpose and confident in bear- 
 ing, says, "Men ! you can save the day. Will 
 you do it?" "Aye! Aye! sir; if mortal men 
 can, we will !" 
 
 We pass from the march by the flank into 
 line under the direction of the Commanding 
 
16 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 General himself, ruy regiment forming the 
 right of the front line. 
 
 The grey coats, flushed with success that 
 is so near victory, came gaily on. We wait 
 until they are within easy range. It is a 
 weary waiting and hard to endure. Our 
 men are falling rapidly under the fire of the 
 advancing foe. My favorite mare drops 
 dead with a ball through her gentle heart. 
 Adjutant Brewer, always alert and devoted 
 replaces her with his good grey. Rising 
 from the ground, with no great bodily harm, 
 although I had been pitched headlong, I ex- 
 claim : "But, Adjutant, my glasses are 
 broken into many bits and I see dimly." 
 "Never mind ; I will see for you," he quickly 
 responds. And so he did". Gallant fellow ! 
 Brave heart ! He gave his young life to his 
 country and his parting benediction to me 
 

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The Battle. 17 
 
 afterwards, in a desperate melee and fearful 
 eharge. 
 
 At last the order to fire! From every 
 musket leaps a missile of death. The Con- 
 federate line wavers! Strong young teeth 
 tear the cartridges. We load and fire with 
 energy. The grey line breaks! A charge is 
 ordered by Kosecrans in person. They run! 
 How inspiring! What exhilaration! With 
 wild yells we rush on. We regain much of 
 the ground lost in the early morning and 
 hold it fast and firm. 
 
 Again the nightfall, the last of the event- 
 ful year. What horrid din, of cannon and 
 of watchful picket's gun, to disturb and 
 harass the weary unharmed, who seek to 
 sleep. How cold and miserable the wounded 
 in blue and grey who groan and moan be- 
 tween the lines, where succor cannot come. 
 
 Morn at last ! The new year has come. 
 
18 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 Both, armies are so torn and shattered that 
 the re-forming of lines and watchful rest is 
 a necessity. The day passes in care for the 
 wounded and hasty burial of the dead. 
 
 Another night, and again the morning, 
 Who will strike the blow? Rosecrans, tena- 
 cious of purpose, returns to his original 
 plan. Again our division fords Stone's 
 River in front of the enemy's right. The 
 shortened line of each regiment tells the 
 story of the slaughter of the 31st. We wait 
 patiently the order to strike. 
 
 The hours pass. Few in number, our di- 
 vision is a tempting bait to Bragg. Gen- 
 eral Breckenridge, with a column of many 
 lines, advances upon us. With precision of 
 movement they march across the open fields. 
 The sight fascinates us! Splendid specta- 
 cle! They break the charm by opening fire 
 and charging upon us with the shrill yell of 
 
The Battle. 19 
 
 the South. With a crash the lines meet, to 
 mingle a moment and break apart. Our re- 
 serve becomes our front line. We fight for 
 minutes that seem hours, with bayonet and 
 clubbed musket, with deep cursing and loud 
 jells, with hot rage and bold defiance, that 
 rarest of happenings in battle comes to us— 
 a hand to hand fight between lines of in- 
 fantry upon an open field. We are over- 
 whelmed by numbers and flanked by the 
 greater force. Thrice has our color bearer 
 been felled to earth, and of all the color 
 guard not one is unhurt. 
 
 But the regimental flag does not touch 
 the ground. Gallant Phil Reefy, Lieutenant 
 of Company F, strong and stalwart, bears 
 it aloft. Sullenly we retreat to the river 
 bank, fighting as we retire. We reach the 
 stream. 
 
 What is that deafening roar? It is as 
 
20 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 though heaven and earth had come together. 
 Fifty-two guns, massed by Mendenhall, 
 Chief of Artillery, commanding the position 
 we had just left, have opened with grape 
 and canister at short range upon the but 
 now exultant foe. What dreadful slaugh- 
 ter ! Masses of men fall writhing as the mis- 
 siles hurtle through the air. They turn and 
 flee, for mortal men cannot withstand such 
 storm. 
 
 We pursue until darkness comes, captur- 
 ing prisoners, guns and stores, and Reefy, 
 proudly exultant, plants the flag of the 
 19th Ohio upon two cannon captured in the 
 tempestuous pursuit. 
 
 No battle of the war shows the dash, 
 pluck, bravery and endurance of the Ameri- 
 can soldier better than Stone's River. The 
 attack, so spirited and bold, upon the right 
 wing, under McCook, in the gray dawn of 
 

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The Battle. 21 
 
 that winter morning, that forced it back un- 
 til the exultant enemy was not only on our 
 flank but in our rear ! The speedy taking of 
 new positions by the troops of the left wing, 
 under Crittenden ; their gallant and success- 
 ful charge in the cedars that regained much 
 of the ground so ruinously lost ! 
 
 The sturdy and immovable stand of the 
 center, under Thomas, that resisted assaults 
 most impetuous and broke the charging col- 
 umns into disorganized fragments, as waves 
 are broken on a rock-bound coast ! The dash 
 of the Southerners in attack, the steadiness 
 of the Northerners in resistance, the impul- 
 sive ardor of the one, the deliberate repose 
 of the other; both so characteristic! The 
 bold front, the confident daring, the personal 
 exposure, the actual leadership, and the un- 
 conquerable spirit of Rosecrans, that 
 
22 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 "plucked victory from defeat and glory from 
 disaster !" 
 
 All this, any of this, was worth the sacri- 
 fice of life itself to see. 
 
 It stands in history as a bright page. The 
 dreadful figures of loss tell the story of how 
 terribly sanguinary were the engagements 
 when Americans fought each other. Of 44,- 
 000 Federals, 12,000, and of 38,000 Confed- 
 erates, 10,000 were killed and wounded — 
 over twenty-five per cent. Recall the fact 
 that at Waterloo, Wellington lost less than 
 twelve, and at Marengo and Austerlitz, Na- 
 poleon lost less than fifteen per cent. 
 
 At daylight the next morning, after the 
 battle, my line was formed. Shorn was it of 
 half its length, for forty per cent, had fallen. 
 Three officers were killed and three wound- 
 ed. Company B, with more of its own dead 
 to bury than there were unhurt survivors to 
 
The Battle. 23 
 
 do them honor. Ah ! the familiar faces gone 
 from us. We who were left looked upon each 
 other with feelings unknown before. We felt 
 a kinship stronger than brotherhood, as 
 though we were parts of one body. 
 
 We heard read, with infinite satisfaction, 
 of the glory of our achievements, the con- 
 gratulations of the General and the thanks 
 of President Lincoln. We shook hands with 
 each other that we had been specially men- 
 tioned in the reports, and took satisfactory 
 delight that the commander of the 79th In- 
 diana had officially reported that the good 
 behavior of his command might be attribu- 
 ted to the splendid conduct of the 19th Ohio, 
 and to the effect of our example. 
 
 We were heroes all, and were proudly con- 
 scious of the fact. 
 
24 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 THE PRESENTATION. 
 
 The restful weeks following the great bat- 
 tle go slowly by. The ranks of the regiment 
 fill up from the return of the slightly 
 wounded and the detached. The white tents 
 about Murfreesborough, placed in regular 
 rows, form a new city of vast extent. Camp 
 duties, drills, inspection, review, guard 
 mounting and dress parade fill the busy 
 hours. The fighting giant is in training for 
 the summer campaign of Tullahoma and the 
 advance into Georgia. 
 
 I recall the afternoon of a perfect day in 
 the early spring time. Parade over and dis- 
 
The Presentation. 25 
 
 missed, by some preconcerted signal, to me 
 unknown, the first sergeants do not march 
 the men to quarters, but go to their positions 
 and company commanders take their places 
 in line. "Attention! Battalion!" shouts 
 Major Stratton, assuming the command. I 
 look on somewhat amazed at this sudden de- 
 votion to a drill not down in the camp or- 
 ders. 
 
 The battalion forms square. I am in- 
 vited to it, and with speech all too compli- 
 mentary and feeling reference to the great 
 battle, its losses and its gains, am presented 
 with the beautiful weapons you here admire. 
 
 The surprise is only excelled by my de- 
 light with the gift. They shall be worn with 
 pride, they shall be used in honor. 
 
 I cherish them for the sake of the givers, 
 and practice to know how and to become 
 worthy to use them. They stand me in good 
 
26 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 stead very often, and familiarity with them 
 does not breed contempt of their power. 
 
 Months go by. The Tullahoma campaign 
 has been fought to a finish. On ostensible 
 recruiting service, but really for participa- 
 tion in the momentous Brough-Vallandig- 
 hain campaign in Ohio, the opportunity is 
 afforded me to go home for a brief season. 
 I avail myself of it, and take proudly home 
 to show to friends the gift of comrades be- 
 loved. 
 
 The duty in the north performed, I turn 
 south to rejoin the command. The military 
 situation is most interesting. Like the 
 sharp end of a lance, the western army has 
 pierced into the very vitals of the Confed- 
 eracy. Rosecrans has won his objective, 
 Chattanooga; paying therefor the bloody 
 penalty of Chickamauga, but is practically 
 besieged by an enemy whose camp fires light 
 
The Presentation. 27 
 
 the many miles of horizon, from where the 
 crouching lion of lofty Lookout Mountain, 
 with extended paws, touches the Tennessee, 
 around the semi-circle of frowning ridges to 
 where the strongly intrenched line again 
 touches the deep flowing river at Tunnel 
 Hill. He is relieved from command by the 
 powers that be, and Thomas, the reliable, the 
 Rock of Chickamauga, beloved of all men, 
 takes his place as chief. He declares his in- 
 tention to hold his great strategic position 
 "until we starve," and unless help comes, 
 starvation seems probable. 
 
 Hooker is on his way from the east with 
 two corps of veterans of the Potomac, and 
 Sherman marches to us with the victorious 
 columns, flushed with the capture of Vieks- 
 burg, from the banks of the Mississippi. 
 The great Captain, with the fame of Fort 
 Donelson and Shiloh, comes also, to assume 
 
28 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 supreme command. Grant! Sherman! 
 Thomas! Behold the triumvirate! Truly, 
 the great game of war is now to be played by 
 experts. I hasten to take place as one of the 
 pawns. 
 
GENERAL JOSEPH WHEELER 
 'he Marshall Ney of the Confederacy. 
 
The Capture. 29 
 
 SCENE ill. 
 
 THE CAPTURE. 
 
 Where the fight was the fiercest at Stone's 
 River, Captain Keel, of ours, in gallant lead- 
 ership of his company, was shot in the 
 elbow of his right arm. Surgical skill had 
 prevented amputation and obtained exsec- 
 tion, resulting in a cartilaginous elbow and 
 sorely crippled hand. Thus maimed, he 
 came to me at Nashville and declared his 
 intention of reporting for duty. Condemn- 
 ing his judgment, but admiring his pluck, I 
 said, "All right, Captain, we will take the 
 first train for the front." 
 
 We reached Stevenson, Alabama, the end 
 
30 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 of our ride over rough and worn pieces of 
 iron, dignified by the name of railroad. 
 From there a mountain wagon road formed 
 the connection with the army at Chatta- 
 nooga. Its course could be traced by the 
 fragments of broken wagons, abandoned 
 stores, and by the carcasses of the poor 
 mules, strangled in the mud of it. Trains 
 laden with ammunition, food and forage 
 started daily from Stevenson. The time of 
 their arrival, at the end of the pontoon 
 bridge across from Chattanooga was an un- 
 known quantity. It was at least two and 
 more frequently four days. 
 
 My anxiety to reach the regiment was in- 
 tense. Upon inquiry I heard of a bridle path 
 leading over the mountain and along the 
 bank of the river. By starting early and 
 riding hard, one might get through in a day, 
 but it was the path of danger. The guns of 
 
The Capture. 31 
 
 the Confederates commanded this road, and 
 some of our men had been killed, others 
 wounded and captured, who tried it. I de- 
 termined to make the effort. The Colonel 
 commanding the post, in response to my 
 earnest appeal, loaned me two horses and an 
 orderly, and we started at the first peep 
 of day. 
 
 Keel, too greatly disabled to ride a horse, 
 was to go by the wagon road, taking the 
 baggage of both. He evinced no reluctance 
 when he found that as companions in the 
 same wagon he was to have two estimable 
 women of the Christian Commission, who, 
 with supplies for the sick and wounded, were 
 bound to Chattanooga upon their heaven in- 
 spired mission. 
 
 Realizing that my route was hazardous, 
 I put on my oldest uniform, stripped myself 
 of all valuables, packing them carefully in 
 
32 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 the trunk that contained all of my earthly 
 possessions. Determined that my beloved 
 pistols should not fall into the hands of the 
 enemy, I lodged them securely in my trunk, 
 taking in their stead a pair of common hol- 
 ster revolvers. 
 
 The orderly and I rode through without 
 mishap, receiving no shot and seeing but 
 few of the enemy. Arrived at regimental 
 headquarters, I found all well, and received 
 a welcome home that thrilled me. I waited, 
 somewhat impatiently, for the disabled Cap- 
 tain to arrive with the baggage so greatly 
 needed. 
 
 The days passed away and gave no sign of 
 him until the fifth after my arrival, when a 
 sorry figure rode to the front of my tent. 
 Seated upon a mule that had upon him parts 
 of wagon harness, was the Captain, a woful 
 figure, with rueful countenance. Don 
 
The Capture. 33 
 
 Quixote appeared not so disconsolate even 
 after his battle with the knights of the 
 windmill. We would have laughed aloud at 
 his sorry plight had his aspect not been so 
 serious. "For God's sake, food and drink !" 
 he cried. Being properly refreshed, he told 
 his tale of woe. The train of wagons was 
 proceeding slowly along the weary road, 
 when sharp firing at its front evidenced an 
 attack. Wheeler's cavalry had crossed the 
 river and was on one of the raids in our 
 rear that made the name of General Joe 
 Wheeler one with which to scare teamsters 
 and worry commanders. 
 
 The Captain was a man of proper gallant- 
 ry, a fitting squire of dames, but, withal, not 
 lacking in judicious discretion. The Con- 
 federate troopers certainly would not molest 
 the women, bent upon their righteous mis- 
 sion, but to him captivity meant worse than 
 
34 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 death. Making hasty excuses, in uncere- 
 monious fashion, he jumped from the wagon, 
 pulled a colored teamster off of a mule that 
 he had just cut out of the traces of a wagon, 
 mounted and took quickly to the woods on 
 the side of the mountain. As he plunged 
 deeper into the thicket, he saw in the val- 
 ley the light of burning wagons, and heard 
 the terrific explosions of ammunition with 
 which many of them were loaded. After 
 days and nights of distress he at last found 
 his way to our camps. 
 
 A day or two after, hearing that the fe- 
 male companions of the good captain had 
 reached our lines, I called upon them in the 
 town and heard the rest of the story. Wheel- 
 er's rough riders had treated them with 
 courteous consideration and did not molest 
 their trunks when told that they contained 
 only woman's apparel. Keel's baggage and 
 
The Capture. 35 
 
 my own was evidently rich booty. The new 
 uniforms were seized with delight, and my 
 precious seven-shooters appropriated with 
 exclamations of joy and admiration. Taking 
 what was wanted, the residue was thrown 
 back on the wagons, that had been run and 
 piled together, and made food for the flames. 
 The train was but partly consumed when 
 our cavalry appeared upon the scene and a 
 sharp fight ensued, with the result that the 
 women were released from their unpleasant 
 situation. 
 
 While the beleaguered army in Chatta- 
 nooga, foregoing, if not forgetting, the pangs 
 of hunger, echoed the language of Thomas 
 in his telegram to Grant, "We will hold this 
 place until we starve," it was with right good 
 will that it marched out in front of its works 
 on an eventful November morning, being 
 ordered to make a "demonstration" and re- 
 
36 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 lieve the pressure on Sherman in his effort 
 to take Tunnel Hill, the right flank of the 
 semi-circular natural defense of the enemy, 
 composed of Missionary Ridge, with its crest 
 from five hundred to eight hundred feet 
 above us, around to Lookout on the left with 
 its proud head over two thousand feet above 
 the town. It was a crescent, with defensive 
 works erected with engineering skill, bris- 
 tling with guns and reflecting threatening 
 lights as the sun played upon the musket 
 barrels and bayonets in the hands of skilled 
 and brave defenders. It looked like the 
 curve of the cutting edge of a huge scimitar. 
 A feeling of amity, almost of fraterniza- 
 tion, had existed between the picket lines in 
 front of Wood's division for many days. In 
 the early morning of that day, being in 
 charge of the left of our picket line, I re- 
 ceived a turn-out and salute from the Con- 
 
MAP OF THE BATTLEFIELD OF CHATTANOOGA SHOWING 
 
 THE POSITION OF THE CONFEDERATE ARMY 
 
 AT LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN AND 
 
 MISSION RIDGE. 
 
The Capture. 37 
 
 federate reserve as I rode the line. But the 
 friendly relation was soon to be rudely dis- 
 turbed. My pickets, composed of the 19th 
 Ohio and the 9th Kentucky, became the 
 line of skirmishers. Our troops being well 
 out of their works, we advanced with our 
 left resting on Citico Creek, and I believe 
 that from these regiments came the first 
 shots in that glorious advance that re- 
 sulted in the taking of Orchard Knob, the 
 key of the enemy's position. 
 
 With impatient joy they witnessed the 
 stars and stripes on Lookout's crest, and 
 heard the guns of Hooker on the enemy's 
 left. The evidences of the hard fighting by 
 Sherman and the stubborn resistance 
 Bragg's right was giving him were borne on 
 every wind. The flanking assaults upon 
 the Ridge were not achieving success. There 
 must be another "demonstration" by the 
 
38 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 center. Grant stands on Orchard Knob, 
 silently smoking the inevitable cigar. He 
 sees the heavy work to the right and left and 
 that the waning day is showing its lengthen- 
 ing shadows. The center must again re- 
 lieve the pressure. To Thomas goes the 
 order : "Take the rifle-pits at the foot of the 
 ridge. At the six-gun signal from Orchard 
 Knob, advance the lines to the attack." 
 Baird, Wood, Sheridan and Johnson were 
 quickly in the order named from left to 
 right. 
 
 Restlessly they await the signal. It is 
 well on to four o'clock. At last the sharp 
 report of a cannon from the Knob ! An- 
 other ! and another ! and in quick succession 
 the six have thundered forth the order for 
 the charge. 
 
 To your feet and forward, men of the 
 Cumberland! "Take the rifle-pits at the 
 
The Capture. 39 
 
 foot of the ridge," is the order. How splen- 
 didly they respond. Adding emphasis to 
 their loud huzzas is the noise of the light 
 artillery on the plain and the deep roar of 
 the" big siege guns in the forts of Chatta- 
 nooga. The crest of the ridge throws its 
 full weight of metal at the lines of blue. 
 The musketry fire from the pits is full in 
 their faces. But neither shot nor shell can 
 stop the impetuous advance. On and on 
 they go, surmounting every obstacle. 
 
 The order is obeyed. 
 
 The rifle-pits are ours and their late de- 
 fenders our prisoners. How the grey jack- 
 ets hasten to the rear. We wonder at their 
 haste, but soon understood it when the guns 
 of the ridge, depressed to sweep the pits, 
 seemed to open the gates of hell itself upon 
 us. 
 
 We cannot stay. Must we fall back? Per- 
 
40 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 ish the thought. No! No! No order 
 given, and yet to every man the impulse. 
 Forward the whole line ! To the crest of the 
 ridge and take the guns! Every man for- 
 ward ! 
 
 Grape and canister from fifty cannon for- 
 bid the advance. Wood, Sheridan, Baird, 
 Johnson, Willich, Hazen, Beatty, Carlin. 
 Turchin, Vanderveer, catching the spirit 
 from the men, shout, "Up, boys! To the 
 top!'' and grape and canister, wounds and 
 death are forgotten. 
 
 On and on and up and up we go, "while 
 all the world wondered." Grant turns to 
 Thomas, and, with distress if not anger in 
 his voice, says, "Who ordered those men up 
 the ridge?" Replies our old hero, "I don't 
 know, I did not." Says Grant, "Granger, 
 did you?" "No," says Granger, "they 
 
GENERAL, GEORGE H. THOMAS 
 "The Rock of Chickamauga." 
 
The Capture. 41 
 
 started without orders. When those fel- 
 lows get started, all hell can't stop them." 
 
 With hearts in their throats these anxious 
 chieftains watch. The spectators in Chat- 
 tanooga hold their breath in terrible sus- 
 pense. It looks a desperate venture, a fool- 
 hardy effort. Can they make the top, or 
 will they be driven back to the plain, with 
 columns broken and ranks disordered? 
 
 The musketry fire from the intrenched 
 line in grey is murderous. The cannon 
 belch forth incessantly. 
 
 "It is as though men fought upon the 
 earth and fiends in the upper air." 
 
 Not a shot from the wedge-shaped lines in 
 blue as they advance with the colors of regi- 
 ments at the apex of the triangles. Sixty 
 regiments in rivalry for the lead! Colors 
 fall as their bearers sink in death, but other 
 
42 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 stout arms nerved by brave hearts bear the 
 flag aloft. 
 
 Ah ! the lines waver ! they cannot make 
 it ! But repulse means defeat and loss of 
 all we have gained. 
 
 Look ! again they go forward ! Will they 
 reach the crest? See ! the answer ! A flag! 
 the nation's flag! Our flag upon the top! 
 Another, and yet another ! The crest breaks 
 out in glory! It is the apotheosis of the 
 banner of the free! 
 
 The rebel lines are broken ! We are into 
 their works! Cheer upon cheer "set the 
 wild echoes flying" from Tunnel Hill to 
 Lookout! They tell of victory! glorious, 
 exultant victory. 
 
 Forty pieces of cannon and 7,000 stand of 
 arms with 6,000 prisoners captured give 
 emphasis to the story. 
 
GENERAL GEORGE H. THOMAS AND STAFF AFTER THE 
 BATTLE OF MISSION RIDGE. 
 
The Capture. 43 
 
 The bars are down for entrance next cam- 
 paign to Atlanta, gate city of the South. 
 
 I went through the starvation siege of 
 Chattanooga, the battles of Orchard Knob 
 and Mission Ridge, and the winter march 
 to relieve Burnside, who was penned up in 
 Knoxville, in very uncomfortable plight, 
 depending upon my brother officers for the 
 clothing to keep me warm, but that which 
 caused me the most distress was the loss, as 
 I naturally supposed, forever, of the twin 
 revolvers that rest now so peacefully before 
 us, reminders of a time of great happenings 
 by the side of which all else in life seems of 
 trifling importance. 
 
44 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 THE REUNION. 
 
 Twenty years passed away, with their 
 changes for good and for ill. The great 
 war seemed like a dream, and its events were 
 dim and shadowy. But there remained to 
 me some substantial evidence of its reality. 
 Upon the wall hung the good sword, with 
 the dent in its scabbard telling of the death 
 struggle of the brave black mare, whose 
 name should be on Stone Biver's roll of 
 honor. In the corner stood the regimental 
 flag, presented by my comrades when we 
 parted in 1865, the deep scar upon its staff 
 matching the deeper scar upon the manly 
 
 Uf c 
 
'IN THE CORNER STOOD THE REGIMENTAL FLAG 
 
 PRESENTED BY MY COMRADES WHEN WE 
 
 PARTED IN 1865. THE DEEP 
 
 SCAR UPON ITS STAFF 
 
 MATCHED THE DEEPER SCAR 
 
 UPON THE MANLY BREAST OF 
 
 ITS BEARER IN THE BRAVE 
 
 DAYS OF OLD." 
 
The Reunion. 45 
 
 breast of its bearer "in the brave days of 
 old." I looked at tlieni and longed for the 
 twin seven-shooters that should keep them 
 company. 
 
 Representing my adopted State, Nebras- 
 ka, in the Senate, I had reached a position 
 that had at least given my name notoriety. 
 It chanced that the Major of an Iowa caval- 
 ry regiment saw it in the public prints and 
 was prompted to write me. "Are you," said 
 he, "the man who commanded the 19th 
 Ohio during the war? If so, I have a pistol 
 that must belong to you, for the fact of its 
 presentation is engraved upon it," I am 
 quick to respond, and in brief time there 
 came the pistol, as welcome to my hand and 
 heart as an old-time friend. 
 
 He wrote me its history. During the 
 days of the period of reconstruction he was 
 on duty in Alabama, and upon the person of 
 
46 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 a man whom he arrested was found the re- 
 volver. The Major took it from him and 
 had held it since, hoping that some time he 
 might meet the owner. Hearty thanks went 
 to him, and I longed all the more for its 
 mate, somewhere existing, but probably 
 never to be recovered by me. 
 
 Twenty-eight years elapse after the cav- 
 alry raid in the Sequatchie Valley. The 
 Congress is in session and a dreary debate 
 drags its weary length through the hours. 
 My yawning presence in the Senate Cham- 
 ber would only add emphasis to the dullness 
 there, and I go to the Committee Room, to 
 engage in the usual employment of a Con- 
 gressman's spare hours, the dictation of re- 
 plies to the endless letters, from every direc- 
 tion, on every conceivable subject. There 
 comes a messenger, and this his message: 
 "The compliments of Senator Pugh of Ala- 
 
The Reunion. 47 
 
 Lama, who requests the pleasure of seeing 
 you in the Marble Room." I respond 
 quickly to the call, and go to the room of 
 simplicity and beauty that is one of the chief 
 attractions under the great white dome. 
 Near at hand are three men, two of them 
 well known by me, the third a stranger. 
 
 I hasten to greet my colleague, and then 
 shake hands with warmth of greeting with 
 a gentleman I have grown to respect and 
 like. It is General Wheeler, once a dash- 
 ing cavalry leader of Confederates, he who 
 harried our rear so persistently and pro- 
 nouncedly; reconstructed into a leader in 
 forensic debate, an authority on parlia- 
 mentary law, and an all-around legislator, 
 whose trenchant pen was surely as mighty 
 as his vigorous sword. Cuba and the Phil- 
 ippines are the scenes of his later triumphs, 
 and there is no name upon the Army Roll 
 
48 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 more honored now for patriotic devotion 
 and soldierly ability than that of him who, 
 during the dark days of the civil strife, was 
 the Marshal Ney of the Confederacy. 
 
 I am introduced by the courtly Senator 
 Pugh to his esteemed constituent, ex-Con- 
 federate Colonel Reeves, of Alabama. I 
 greet him with pleasure, for he bears upon 
 him those evidences that command respect. 
 Both appearance and speech declare the 
 Southerner, and the soft broad accents fall 
 pleasingly upon the ear. He said, "I think, 
 sir, I have something that once belonged to 
 you, and will give it to you with pleasure, 
 for I presume from the inscription upon it 
 you will prize it highly." 
 
 He produces the long-lost revolver and 
 tells its story. He bought it and its com- 
 panion from one of General Wheeler's troop- 
 ers, who said he captured it at the battle of 
 
The Reunion. 49 
 
 Mission Ridge. I mildly suggest that at 
 Mission Ridge the captures were on the 
 other side. He smiled acquiescence and 
 said he cared little at the time of purchase 
 from whence they came, so that they might 
 be his. He had carried them through the 
 war until a fearful wound had disabled 
 him from further field duty. 
 
 After the war he had loaned one to the 
 sheriff of his county and from him it had 
 been captured by some of our troops. I 
 told him of the return of that one to me eight 
 years before. We exchange reminiscences 
 of the great struggle. We compare experi- 
 ences. Enemies in war, we are in peace 
 friends. 
 
 Handling his revolver with easy grace and 
 caressing gesture, he makes it mine again, 
 saying as he passes it to me, with pardon- 
 able reluctance, "I tell you, sir, that is a 
 
50 The Twin Seven-Shooters. 
 
 mighty close shooting pistol." I cordially 
 agree to that sentiment, and we both dwell 
 in thought upon the career of these messen- 
 gers of death that have fought beneath two 
 flags, giving loyal support to their masters. 
 who have fought each one loyally for his 
 own. 
 
 And thus finding each other, after a quar- 
 ter of a century of separation, they came 
 back to me, to be cherished fondly and I 
 hope never again to be used. 
 
"UPON THE WALL, HUNG THE GOOD SWORD, WITH THE 
 DENT IN ITS SCABBARD. '• 
 
Epilogue. 51 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 And so my friend, you have the truthful 
 story. It is not one to excite special wonder, 
 but causes, I take it, emotions of pleasure 
 and thankfulness. 
 
 As the pistols have come peacefully to- 
 gether, so have north and south united in 
 fraternity and in devotion to one flag and 
 a common country. The war taught mu- 
 tual respect, and never again can there come 
 between these sections the hatred, based 
 upon mutual misunderstandings, that led to 
 the attempt at dismemberment. The men 
 who did the fighting during those four years 
 of bloody war can have no sympathy with 
 
52 Epilogue. 
 
 the incendiaries who would array section 
 against section upon any subject. Their 
 motto is bear and forbear. The disposition 
 to fraternize was strong among them even 
 during the strife, and with them now is the 
 brotherhood that is the inevitable incident 
 of unity of national purpose and a patriotic 
 desire for one destiny. 
 
 Long ago, while condemning the false 
 teaching that led to the belief that alle- 
 giance was to the State, we appreciated how 
 deep abiding was the honest conviction of 
 those who, taught in a different school from 
 us, made untold sacrifice for the cause they 
 espoused. 
 
 Forgetting nothing of the past — the cruel 
 blow at nationality, the unhallowed attack 
 upon the flag, with all the sad results of 
 weeping and wounds, of desolation and 
 death — we have forgiven everything. 
 
Epilogue. 53 
 
 Full citizenship, with all of honor, of 
 governing power, and controlling rights that 
 the term imports, has been accorded to all 
 who participated or lent aid and comfort 
 to the enemies of the Union. 
 
 As the victors and the vanquished have 
 recognized equal courage and even powers 
 of endurance, there has come mutual re- 
 spect. Through the throes and labor of 
 reconstruction, with the contact of peoples, 
 the interchange of commerce, the common 
 interests of the different parts of the na- 
 tional whole, the dovetailing of States 
 through the construction of the iron high- 
 ways of trade, and mutual contribution of 
 the capital needed for the development of 
 the new South has come peaceful, contented 
 reconciliation. The years that gather wis- 
 dom and experience to all long ago taught 
 the lesson even to those who fousht for it, 
 
54 Epilogue. 
 
 that the cause for which they struggled and 
 suffered was better lost than won. 
 
 Hail the epoch of concord ! All hail, the 
 era of fraternity ! 
 
 Let us close the lid of the mahogany box, 
 believing that the pair snugly ensconced 
 within it shall never serve save as polished 
 reminders of other days. 
 
MAR.U I9W