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Beginning
Expression®Web
Zak Ruvalcaba
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Beginning
Expression®Web
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Beginning
Expression®Web
Zak Ruvalcaba
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Beginning Expression®Web
Published by
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Copyright © 2007 by Wiley Publishing, Inc., Indianapolis, Indiana
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I would like to dedicate this book to my wife, Jessica; my daughter, Makenzie; my son,
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my many faults. I love my family more than anyone can possibly know.
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Senior Acquisitions Editor Vice President and Executive Group Publisher
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Exploring the Variety of Random
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glide on, let the dead of Raymond, Champion Hills and Vicksburg
never be forgotten. Let us think of them as standing guard over our
dearly won prize, until the bugle sounds for silence, while the angel
calls the roll. The third largest national cemetery in the United States
is located at Vicksburg. Each of the small head stones marks the
resting place of a hero. Seventeen thousand Union soldiers are
buried in the 50 acres in this consecrated spot, of which 12,957 have
the simple inscription, “Unknown,” marked on their head stones. But
they are not unknown to Him who cares for all. He takes cognizance
of the heroes who fell fighting for their country and for freedom.
Although their names are missing from the roster of the city where
their ashes lie, still the great Jehovah keeps the record of the brave,
and He will reward them in His own good time.
CHAPTER XIV.
At the request of Captain W. T. Rigby, Chairman of the National
Military Park Commission of Vicksburg, to visit that place for the
purpose of locating the positions held by my regiment during the
siege in 1863, I did visit Vicksburg, Miss., in August, 1902.
I found the weather very hot, 99 degrees in the shade. However, it
was not as hot as it was when we were in that “crater” at Fort Hill,
years ago. The people of Vicksburg greeted me with a glad hand.
The contrast of long ago was striking. About the first man I met was
an old grizzled veteran wearing the Confederate button and, seeing
my G. A. R. button, he came up, and, extending his hand, greeted
me: “How are you, comrade; we wear different buttons, but we are
brothers;” and I shook his hand heartily and we had a pleasant chat
of the siege. Then, we were shooting minie-balls at each other; now,
our shots were story and laughter.
Captain Rigby drove me out to the Federal and Confederate lines.
Many changes have taken place. Some few of the trenches and
breastworks remain, but many have been smoothed off for the plow.
As we drove to the spot where we camped, near the old “Shirley
House,” I said to myself, “Am I dreaming?” Can it be that this quiet,
deserted place, overgrown with weeds and bushes, with no sound
save the sweet songs of the birds in the trees is the same spot
where, in the summer of 1863, so much life and action was seen
each day; and where, instead of the music of the birds, it was the
music of the whizzing minie-ball or the shrieking shell. In thought I
went back to those days of noise and blood, and I involuntarily
looked over to Fort Hill to see if the Confederate stronghold was still
there, and listened to hear the sharp crack of the sharpshooter’s rifle
from the trenches, but all is quiet and hushed. I am soothed by the
stillness, the quiet and peace that pervades these hills and ravines,
and I wander in memory’s hall of the long ago, when I am brought
back to the present by Captain Rigby, with: “Now, Crummer, you
must locate the position of the camp of your regiment during the
siege.” This I proceeded to do, having no difficulty, for the “Shirley
House” is still there, although tumbling down and going to ruin.
Thanks to the Illinois Commission, headed by Gen. John C. Black
and others, Congress has made an appropriation to have the
“Shirley House” restored to its former state. This house will be
remembered for its prominence during the siege as a place of
observation by general officers and as headquarters of the 45th
Illinois. Quite a number of officers and soldiers were shot in this
house by the Confederate sharpshooters.
I wandered through its ruins and you cannot imagine my feelings as I
stepped into the northwest room and stood on the identical spot
where on July 2, 1863, in the afternoon, while writing out an
ordinance report, a Confederate sharpshooter sent a minie-ball
through my right lung.
I placed marker 403 as the center of our camp and No. 484 marks
the right of the camp of the 45th Regiment. This done, we
approached Fort Hill on the Jackson road, and although the
entrenchments and forts have been generally leveled off for
agricultural purposes, changing the face of the hills, yet there is
enough left to show where the main lines were. No. 489 marks the
point where Major L. H. Cowen, 45th Illinois, was killed in the assault
on the afternoon of May 22, 1863. The charge was made by the
regiment, by right, in front. Major Cowen and myself were in the lead
and running together when he fell. Being Orderly Sergeant of Co. A,
it was my duty to be there.
No. 488 marks the center of the line of the 45th Illinois at the time of
its closest approach to the Confederate line in the assault of May 22,
1863.
While walking over this ground I remembered how close we hugged
that sloping hill, lying there in the scorching sun, with no chance to
return the withering fire of the enemy.
Captain Rigby then asked me if I could locate the “crater” and Gen.
Logan’s line of approach to it. I walked over the hill, groping my way
through the tall weeds and undergrowth, and, coming back to the
captain, reported, by saying, “I can.” “Good,” he said; “you may drive
the markers.” I then drove marker No. 487 at the center of the west
line of the crater made by the explosion under the 3rd Louisiana
Redan (we called it Fort Hill) June 25, 1863. It may be questioned
why I could be so certain about the location of the “crater,” in as
much as the fort had been completely demolished. My principal
reason is this: Sergeant Esping, of our regiment, who fell in the
“crater,” pierced by a ball through his brain, was by my side at the
time. We were together in the northwest corner of the “crater” and
we had a splendid chance of doing good work, by looking off down
the ridge to the right and northwest from the “crater,” and firing on
the Confederates in the trenches. Those old trenches where the
Confederates were on June 25, 1863, are still there, so in walking
over the hill and getting the right angle to those trenches, I was able
to locate the “crater.”
Markers Nos. 485 and 486 indicate the line of Logan’s sap, or
approach, to Fort Hill, commencing at the Jackson road. Captain
Rigby thanked me heartily for my services of the day.
The 45th Illinois Infantry bore an honorable part in the siege, as the
official records show.
The report of our Brigade Commander, Gen. M. B. Leggett,
published in the official records at Washington, under date of July 6,
1863, relative to the charge and fighting in the “crater,” is interesting
and tends to corroborate the writer’s statements.
* * * “At 3:30 p. m. of June 25, 1863, my command was in
readiness, the 45th Illinois being the first, supported by the
other regiments of the brigade and Lieut. H. C. Foster of
the 23rd Indiana, with 100 men, being placed in the left
hand sap, with orders to charge with the 45th Illinois,
provided they attempted to cross the enemy’s works. At
4:30 o’clock the mine was sprung and before the dirt and
smoke was cleared away the 45th Illinois had filled the
gap made by the explosion and were pouring deadly
volleys into the enemy. As soon as possible loop-hole
timber was placed upon the works for the sharpshooters,
but the enemy opened a piece of artillery at very close
range on that point and the splintering timbers killed and
wounded more men than did balls, and I ordered the
timbers to be removed. Hand grenades were then freely
used by the enemy, which made sad havoc amongst my
men, for, being in the crater of the exploded mine, the
sides of which were covered by the men, scarcely a
grenade was thrown without doing damage, and in most
instances horribly mangling those they happened to strike.
The 45th Illinois, after holding the position and fighting
desperately until their guns were too hot for further use,
were relieved by the 20th Illinois. The 20th Illinois was
relieved by the 31st Illinois and they in turn by the 56th
Illinois, but, their ammunition being bad, they were unable
to hold the position and were relieved by the 23rd Indiana;
the 17th Iowa then relieving the 23rd Indiana, and the 31st
Illinois relieving them, held the position until daylight, when
the 45th Illinois relieved them and held the position until
10:00 a. m. of the 26th; the 124th Illinois then relieved the
45th Illinois and held the position until 5:00 p. m., when I
received orders to withdraw to the left hand gap, where I
maintained the position until the surrender on July 4th,
when, by order of Major General Logan, my brigade led by
the 45th Illinois, was honored with the privilege of being
the first to enter the garrison, and the flag of the 45th
Illinois the first to float over the conquered city.”
The National Park Commission are doing a noble work. Capt. Rigby
is the right man in the right place and with a corps of engineers is
working day and night to make a beautiful park for the delight of the
people that come after us. The state of Iowa has done the noble
thing in appropriating $150,000 to place monuments in the park on
the spot which the different Iowa regiments occupied during the
siege. The Illinois legislature has also made an appropriation of
$250,000 for monuments for the 78 different organizations engaged
in that memorable siege. When the memorial tablets from the
different states shall have been placed and the park fully laid out and
completed, it will be one of the notable historic battle fields of the
Union, and one which we of the North will occasionally visit with
great interest. And now I close my sketch with this prayer: that war
may never come to our fair land again, but that blessed peace,
prosperity and righteousness may ever be our heritage.
GENERAL U. S. GRANT
From a photograph taken in Galena, Illinois, at the close of the
Civil War
GENERAL U. S. GRANT
CHAPTER XV.
AN APPRECIATION.
My closing chapter will be about our great commander, General
Ulysses S. Grant, giving a few personal incidents of his life.
Orators, authors and statesmen have spoken and written of the great
General so much it would seem as though there was nothing more
could be said. However, as one who followed him through numerous
battles during the Civil War, and who, at the close of the war,
became a resident of Galena, Ill., and became personally acquainted
with, and attended the same church as the General, I feel I have the
right to note down, before the bugle sounds taps, a few words of
appreciation of the man I knew.
For four years, just after the close of the war, I was in the employ of
Col W. R. Rowley, who was then Clerk of the Circuit Court of Jo
Daviess County, Ill., and who had been one of the close family staff
of General Grant during the early part of the war.
General John A. Rawlins and Colonel Rowley were neighbors of the
General before the war and knew him well and intimately, and it is
believed by the citizens of Galena, and known by many prominent
men in the army, that these two men had more to do in helping and
advising General Grant during the early part of the war, and, indeed,
all through the war, so far as General Rawlins is concerned, than any
of his Generals or friends in Congress or out of it.
Colonel Rowley and myself naturally had many conversations over
the incidents of certain battles and about General Grant.
During the war and after, the enemies of Grant circulated many
stories about his being drunk on this and that occasion.
If I wanted to stir Colonel Rowley up to a fighting mood, and hear
him use a “big, big D” (for he could use them occasionally), I would
ask him: “Colonel, how about this new yarn of Grant’s being drunk at
Shiloh when the battle commenced?” The question was the spark
that exploded the magazine of wrath and the Colonel would reply:
“All a d—d lie. Wasn’t I there with him all the time; don’t I know.
When will all the d—d liars get through telling their d—d lies about
Grant.” And then I would chuckle to myself and say: “Them’s my
sentiments, too.”
It has been said of General John A. Rawlins (chief of General
Grant’s staff), and, I believe, it must be true, for Colonel Rowley once
told me it was; that when Rawlins got mad he could use more “cuss
words” than any man in the army. General Grant never used “cuss
words,” but he loved these two men, notwithstanding their habit of
emphasizing their remarks sometimes with a big D.
Grant loved his friends and was always true to them. Grant wouldn’t
lie; even in small matters he insisted that the truth should be spoken.
It is related of him that, after he became President and while one day
he was busy with his cabinet, some one called to see the President.
One of the cabinet officers directed the servant to say to the caller
that the President was not in. “No,” said the General; “tell him no
such thing. I don’t lie myself and I don’t want my servants to lie for
me.”
A great man who was associated with him in public life has said of
him: “He was the most absolutely truthful man I ever met in all my
experiences.” Another man who knew him well said of General
Grant: “He hated two classes of men—liars and cowards.”
General Grant never aspired to political office, although urged by his
friends to do so. Just after the fall of Vicksburg some of the leading
citizens of Galena visited him at that place. One day, in a general
conversation, one of them asked what office he would like to have
after the war was over. He replied that there was one office he would
like to have when he returned to Galena. His friends pledged him
their best endeavors in aiding him for whatever he might seek, and,
being pressed to name the office, Grant said: “I would like to be
alderman from my ward long enough to have a sidewalk built to my
residence.” Of course, there was a laugh and the matter was
dropped. Upon his first visit to his old home at Galena, at the close of
the war, the little city of many hills got up a reception upon a grand
scale for its hero. The city was smothered with flags and
decorations; the streets arched with flags and words of welcome.
When the General arrived amid the booming of cannon and the
huzzas of the people, he was hurriedly lifted into a barouche and
started up the street at the head of a long procession. The first arch
he met had in large letters: “General, the sidewalk is built.” The
General laughed and remarked: “I see my friends remembered I
wanted to be alderman.”
After his first nomination for the Presidency he was with us at Galena
during the campaign, and had you seen the General moving around
so quietly and unostentatiously among his neighbors and friends,
you would have wondered that it could be the man who had just
been declared the greatest military hero of the age, and that he was
soon to be at the head of the nation.
His record as President for eight years, and the honored guest of all
nations during his tour around the world, is an open history to all.
Upon his return from his trip ’round the world, the General and family
took up their abode in Galena. The city again welcomed its hero to
his old home amid the plaudits of thousands that came from near
and far to tread its stony streets and pay their tribute of respect and
honor to the modest, silent man known the world over. I think the
General was more stirred to the heart with the kind tokens of love
and friendship and honor which his old neighbors and citizens of
Galena showered upon him than he was from all the attentions of
nobility the world ’round.
General Grant’s home life and his life among the people of Galena,
even after the world had acclaimed him the greatest General of the
ages, and honors had been showered upon him by the crowned
heads of the world, was that of a quiet, unobtrusive, simple life like
his neighbors and citizens.
We loved him as a neighbor and citizen. We said among ourselves:
“Grant’s head is the same size it was before the war.”
He has been called the “silent man.” Yes, he was rather guarded in
his talks among men generally, but I want to say (for I have listened
to him), that when among his friends and neighbors, if you could get
him started, he was one of the most entertaining talkers I ever
listened to.
During the month of June, 1880, while the Republican Convention
was in session in Chicago, General Grant and family were living in
Galena. He had held the Presidency two terms; he had also been
’round the world, feted and honored everywhere by kings and
emperors, and now he had returned to the hills of old Galena to
spend his days in rest and quiet; but his friends, who believed in him,
urged him to again stand for the nomination for the Presidency. His
friends of Galena, Ill., knew what his personal wishes were; he did
not wish to again resume the burdens of office. However, according
to the request of his family, especially his wife, and also to his
political friends, he finally consented to make the run. You will
remember what a fight there was in the convention—how the
immortal 300, led by Roscoe Conkling, clung to the silent hero to the
last.
While the Convention was in progress, each day the General came
down town about 10 o’clock and spent an hour or two with his old
friend and comrade, Colonel W. R. Rowley. Rowley was then Judge
of the County Court, and I was clerk of the same court. Some of the
friends were privileged to be there. I remember distinctly that all of us
were intensely interested in every telegram that came to the office,
but the General paid very little attention to them. He kept us
entertained with most vivid recitals of what he had seen and heard in
his travels ’round the world.
There was one man’s name before the Convention who had a few
votes as nominee for President. This man had been a trusted friend
of General Grant in former years, but his actions had caused many
of the General’s friends to doubt his friendship. One afternoon, while
we were in General Rowley’s office, a telegram came that convinced
Rowley and the friends that this man, while pretending undying
friendship for the General, was playing him false. Rowley and others
were outspoken in their denunciation of the course of this man who
had helped Grant in former years and who Grant had helped so
much in the past. The General was as calm and placid as though
everything was lovely, his only remark being: “He was my friend
when I needed friends, if I can’t trust him, I can’t trust anybody.” The
friend referred to was Hon. E. B. Washburne.
Hon. Roscoe Conkling said of General Grant: “Standing on the
highest eminence of human distinction, modest, firm, self poised,
having filled all lands with his renown, he has seen not only the high
born and the titled, but the poor and lowly in the uttermost parts of
the earth rise and uncover before him. The name of Grant shall
glitter a bright and imperishable star in the diadem of the Republic
when those who have tried to tarnish it are moldering in forgotten
graves and when their names and epitaphs have tarnished utterly.”
This is a noble tribute of one great man for another; but we, his
humble neighbors of Galena, Ill., who knew the General so well, love
to think of the home life of this great man. One characteristic of his
life is not generally known, and I make bold to set it down in type that
all the world may know it. General Grant was a lover of his wife all
through his married life. A little secret of the home life of this devoted
man was known among the women of Galena, for they would tell
their husbands what a lover General Grant was, and to prove it they
would tell us that the General laced his wife’s shoes for her.
While General Grant and Mrs. Grant were in Europe they paid a visit
to the tomb of Ferdinand and Isabella. The thought of the ashes of
the royal couple sleeping side by side through the centuries
appealed to the devoted husband, and, turning to his wife, he said:
“Julia, that is the way we should lie in death.” So, when the Great
General died they found a memorandum left by him as to his last
resting place. First, he preferred West Point above others, but for the
fact that his wife could not be placed beside him there. Second,
Galena, or some place in Illinois. Third, New York; hence it is that in
the beautiful tomb at Riverside, the resting place of the General,
there is room for the ashes of Mrs. Grant.
After General U. S. Grant had answered the last roll call at Mount
McGregor, in 1885, and the sad news came to his friends and
neighbors of his former home, among the hills of the quaint old city
of Galena, Ill., preparations were made to have a memorial service in
the Methodist Church, where he had worshiped before and after the
war. The church was draped in mourning. In front of the pulpit was a
stand of pure white flowers, with the initials, U. S. G., in purple
flowers.
The pew formerly occupied by the General when here was covered
with the United States flag, tastefully draped. The house was filled
with his friends and neighbors, and a feeling of personal loss was felt
by all. The services were simple but beautiful. Several of his
personal friends spoke feelingly of the Great General’s life, among
them the writer, and I am persuaded to close this appreciation by
quoting my tribute given in 1885, in Galena, upon that occasion:
“The years glide swiftly by, the gray hairs come creeping on, and we
boys of the army of twenty years ago are no longer boys, but men,
whose numbers lessen each day as the months roll by.”
Twenty-four years have passed since we donned the blue and
marched down the streets and off to war. The forms and faces and
events of those times at this distance seem unreal and shadowy, like
the remembrance of a dream, and yet today, in the midst of the great
sorrow that hangs over the land over the fall of our great chieftain,
we are again reminded of the waving flags and fluttering scarfs, the
inspiring strains of martial music, the shrill notes of fife and drum,
and the booming of cannon. We are today again reminded (for the
death of our hero brings to us vividly the past days in which he took
so great a part). I say, again are we reminded of the tears and
prayers and promises—the music of soft voices and gentle words,
the brave words spoken by mothers, sisters, sweethearts, the parting
words, the last good-bye. We cannot forget, nay, we live over again
the battles of Donelson, Shiloh, Corinth, Vicksburg and other
victorious battle fields following our hero, whose memory we are
tonight to cherish and revere.
“All these dear and sacred memories of those stirring times come
wafted to us today like the weird airs of an Æolian harp swept by
unknown winds, and the ear is touched, and through the brain, nerve
and soul, and our hearts beat in sympathy and unison.
“So, tonight, as a nation mourns the fall of the Great Commander, we
boys of the twenty-four years ago are more than privileged to add
our tears of sorrow as we follow in spirit our hero to his last resting
place.
“We boys loved him. Often he led us amidst the storm of shot and
shell and where death faced us on every hand; but we soon learned
that although it meant hard fighting to follow General Grant, yet it
always promised victory, and that gave us inspiration to fight harder.
“General Grant was a man of transcendent military ability. In the
book of fate it was written: ‘He shall be a chief and a captain.’ But
above all he was a manly and a pure man. He was tender and trusty
and true.
“‘The bravest are the tenderest,
The loving are the daring.’
“I always admired the humble side of his character. I think humility
was one of his finest traits; although feted and honored as no man of
this continent ever has been, he never for a moment showed any
signs of realizing his greatness, or evincing a desire to count the
honors conferred. Retiring in disposition, yet bold and brave to act
when necessity demanded it, I speak of him in loving memory. You
all knew him here in his former home, and who with him have
worshiped ofttimes in this church, and you all know that he was the
bravest of the brave and the truest of the true.
“‘His mein, his speech, were sweetly simple;
But when the matter matched his mighty mind,
Up rose the hero; on his piercing eye
Sat observation; on each glance of thought,
Decision followed.’
“As the day came, so duty appeared, and the brave old General took
it up and did it earnestly and well.
“How well great battles and campaigns were planned and fought;
how safely and wisely he guided the ship of state; how modestly he
received honors of the world from crowned heads; how gladly he
returned to the walks of a humble citizen; how bravely and patiently
he suffered through his terrible affliction—are they not all known to
us, and are they not written upon the pages of history for our
children’s children to read and study?
“Is it weak, that we who followed the ever-victorious flag of our great
Commander, and who with him stood in trying places against evil
and treason, should drop our tears upon the fallen form of him whom
we loved? Nay, but let them fall, they but speak in louder tones than
words can, of the love and regard we had for him, who, as the years
roll by, will be honored and extolled as one of the greatest of all
nations.
“Around the throne of the Eternal God must hover the spirit of such
as he who lived without ever having a selfish thought.
“The steadfast friend, the gallant soldier, the great Commander has
fallen asleep.
“Rest thee, friend, soldier, patriot,
Thy work is done.”
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been
standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.
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