THE REPUBLICAN

October 14, 1881

 

An Episode of the Great Battle of Gettysburg

 

            Midway between the contending lines was a solitary tree that in peaceful times had given shade to the harvest hands at their nooning.  Early in the morning some Confederate sharpshooters had crawled out to this tree, and were able to reckon their game at every shot.  So destructive, in fact, did their fire become that the wildest imprecations were shouted at them by the Federals, and threats were made, that if taken they would get no quarter.  All at once there came a lull in the firing from that part of the line.  A confederate was seen to rise up from the base of the tree and to advance toward the Federals with his hand raised.  Shots were fired at him but there was curiosity at his approach, and the word was, “wait till we see what he wants to do”.  Some thought he had a mind to desert, and encouraged him with shouts of “come over, Johnny!  We won’t fire”.  But, if the confederate spoke, what he said could not be heard in the din of the cannonading and musketry, then growing heavy and continuous as the day wore on.  Forward still he came, and all eyes were strained to see what it could be that he meant to do.  There can be no truce on the battlefield till the battle is lost or won.  The man who raises the white flag there, or gives any signal of that kind, has no right to look for its recognition on the other side.  He may only trust to the shrewdness to understand an emergency.  It might be merely a trick to deceive.  Suddenly the Confederate dropped upon the grass and for an instant was lost to sight.  It was thought he had been hit.  But only for an instant, for a thrill of enthusiasm passed through the Federals, murmurs of admiration were heard and then a cheer as hearty as if given in a charge, burst forth from their throats, and the cheer repeated increased in volume, proved that unselfish actions are possible, and there are noble hearts to appreciate and respond.

            The Confederate sharpshooter, who had been doing his best to destroy his antagonist, had observed in front of him a wounded Federal, lying helplessly on the ground between the two lines, and begging in his agonizing thirst for a drink, and at the almost certain risk of losing his own life, had gone forward to give comfort to the distressed enemy.  This it was that caused the Federal cheer and for a few minutes stopped the work of death in that neighborhood.  When the sharpshooter had performed his act of mercy he hastened back to the tree, and with the warning cry, “Don, Yanks, we’re going to fire!” the little, unpremeditated truce was ended and was soon forgotten in the grand event that followed almost immediately after.

            The next day – the Fourth of July – a heap of Confederates was found under that tree. Whether the hero of the day before was one of the ghastly dead will probably never be known.

 

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A letter is published from the rebel General Joe Johnston, defending himself from Jeff Davis’ charge that he did not use due effort to arrest Sherman’s advance into Georgia.  He claims that all he could do was to watch Sherman, and attack him if he exposed himself, but that he never exposed himself.