Chapter Ten

 It has been said by someone that 'every sound uttered has an echo awaiting it somewhere.' This I now believe to be true, for while on my last relief of picket, just before the first streaks of coming dawn began to appear in the east, my line of thought was diverted from the 'omnipresent grayback,' that inhabitant of the seams of a soldier's garments, and which aids him so materially in keeping awake during the lonely watch, by an old familiar voice that found an echo awaiting it.

The clarion voice that had attracted my attention had truly turned my thoughts in a new channel. How else could it be? It had awakened in my soul old memories of home. The sound had not only appealed to my mental faculties, but to my physical also. Fond recollections of savory broth and delicious 'pot pie' flitted through my mind. It was a sound as old as the voice of nature itself - a sound that has been heard in all ages of the world, and today is re-echoed in song and story, in history, and even in the 'Holy Writ'. It was the 'crow of the cock.'

I had but little time to meditate, for scarcely had the sound died away when I was approached by one of the relief, who also had heard the voice, and it was my Dunkard friend.

"Where was the rooster, Benedict?" was his whispered inquiry.

"Only a little distance straight to the front," I replied.

"I'm going to have that rooster or bust. Don't shoot me for a Johnnie when I return," said he.

"Hold on, Mose," I cautioned. "I'm not to be trusted tonight unless it means pards."

"Sure thing," he replied, and passed to the front.

My partner understood chicken nature, was a finished linguist in all fowl (not foul) language.

I soon heard a 'chucky caw' in as good rooster guttural as any old barnyard monarch could utter. Then an imitation of the flopping of wings. Almost immediately the cock crowed for the last time. I heard the final struggle. Dead rooster, like dead men, tell no tales; neither do they attempt to escape.

Where that rooster came from we had no idea, as there was not a dwelling within a mile. Perhaps he, like some of the Confederate citizens, when hard-pressed by the conscript officers, had taken to the woods for safety.

For some time the men in the front had been annoyed by a sharpshooter located just across the field, in the edge of the woods. An offer of immunity from duty had been extended to the man who would locate him and bring him down, for he was undoubtedly perched in a tree.

Two full-blooded Indians belonging to the Second Minnesota, volunteered to do the job. They took a position under cover of darkness, dug holes large enough to conceal themselves in, then cut branches of trees and stuck them in the loose earth so dexterously that they appeared to be only a promiscuous growth of bushes from a comparatively short distance. When everything was in readiness they awaited daylight, when the advance pickets on both sides were withdrawn. About 9 o'clock one of the Indians reported to his command with ample evidence of his success, a fine English Whitfield rifle with globe or telescope sights, and a number of cartridges of a unique pattern. The bullet was minie-shaped, hollowed out in the rear like an Endfield, except in the cavity, where was neatly fitted a hard wood plug of a cone shape, which expanded the thin edge of lead, and thus filled the rifles, or twisted grooves in the gun, and prevented the loss of power.

When asked about the sharpshooter the Indian only shook his head and said, "He no want to come along."

Officers and men were anxious for a forward movement that would decide the issue. The Johnnies were getting stubborn; they did not fall back as readily as they did at first.

There were dense thickets of wild plums, which were large enough to stew. The soldiers of both armies were making use of them. They were quite puckery to the taste, but we were so hungry for a change from bacon and hard bread that we relished them greatly. The supply seemed to be unlimited. Both armies were eating stewed plums.

There was also a swamp of whortle-berries, large and delicious, but they were not so plentiful; besides, the Johnnies got first pick. The night before our brigade was in the front there was unusual activity within the rebel lines. All night we could hear the arrival and departure of trains at intervals, bands playing and men cheering.

Officers and men in the front were greatly excited, while it is said that those high in command were but little concerned. The majority believed they were receiving reinforcements and a great battle was expected on the morrow. A few declared they were evacuating, because there were railroad men in the ranks who said they were able to detect by sound the difference in a loaded train and an empty, and that every incoming train was empty and each outgoing one heavily loaded.

During great excitement time passes slowly, so with us the night was exceedingly long. Toward morning things quieted down in Corinth. At the first dawn of day we received orders to move forward. We crossed the field in front, keeping well in touch with the skirmishers, who entered the forest and disappeared.

The day before the Johnnies were stubborn. Now we entered the woods and passed through to the open beyond; not a Reb in sight. We closed up on the skirmish line and halted. Corinth lay in open view. Heavy breastworks were in our front. Every tree and bush had been cleared away in front of the works. Officers hurried to and fro, and three columns of smoke as black as night arose in the sky, far beyond the breastworks in quick succession. Then followed three distant reports that made the earth tremble.

"Good golly, I'll bet the Confederacy has bust her boiler," said a soldier. His sally of wit was answered by cheers from his comrades.

Soon heavy columns of men were seen to our left, marching straight for the breastworks. "The Johnnies have lit out," the word passed along the lines rapidly.

Soon we went forward with a yell, but too late to be first inside, as the others were far in advance. Over the ramparts we went. We were inside the stronghold at last, which had held a magnificent army of more than a hundred thousand men in check, and paralyzed the mighty old warrior, Halleck, with strange foreboding.

The first thing to attract our attention were vast windrows of cast-off clothing. Regiments of men had stood in line and divested themselves if the old, and put on the new. A large supply of new clothing that could not be removed had been issued to the men.

"Mein gracious," said a Dutchman of the Ninth Ohio, "Der tam Rebels strip off naked so to run faster. Maybe they grease ter selfs like a pig in ter Forth of July races, I wonder?"

One of our bands struck up in a lively style:

De ole gray horse come out of wilderness

Down in Alabam."

Then the men joined in the chorus:

"Johnnie stoled a ham,

And Sickles killed a man."

We then passed a wreck of molasses barrels - Simon pure old Orleans molasses; we literally waded in sweetness. Oh! what a waste; to think of the golden taffy and luscious ginger bread it would have made!

Now a mad desire entered the general's head to seize the Confederacy by the tail. So away we went in hot pursuit of an army that had hours the start. On we went, sweating and sweltering under a blazing sun. We now realized that there was not an entire loss of sweetness in that molasses spill after all, for many of the boys had filled their cups and canteens, and in so doing had smeared their clothing, and now swarms of flies and bees beset them with a vigor that would put to shame the indefatigable grayback. The officers of our division who had been on the chase from Mill Springs, in Kentucky, until then, felt satisfied with former experience, and allowed the greener troops to outstrip them in the useless race.

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