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Robert Stiles, Four years under Marse Robert 20 0 Browse Search
Admiral David D. Porter, The Naval History of the Civil War. 4 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Robert Stiles, Four years under Marse Robert. You can also browse the collection for Allen Moore or search for Allen Moore in all documents.

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Robert Stiles, Four years under Marse Robert, Chapter 6: from Manassas to Leesburg. (search)
t captain of the Snickersville Blues the place of gunner of the first detachment. The old fellow, whose name I think was Moore, took the greatest interest and delight in the drill and showed some proficiency at it; so that in a few days he asked meill, who rode out almost every evening to see how we were getting on. I never saw anything quite so irresistibly funny as Moore's dress and bearing as he formed his detachment, marched them to the gun and put them in position about it. He got on faill the appropriate command-Don't advance, the primer has failed! As No. 2 first hesitated and then started to advance, Moore, gasping with excitement and stretching out his right arm deprecatingly toward the cannoneer, blurted out, Don't go up, the thing's busted! Of course there was an explosion, though not of the primer, but as Moore seemed so genuinely mortified, it was soon hushed. General Hill seemed to appreciate the situation, and assured the gunner that his improvised command answ
Robert Stiles, Four years under Marse Robert, Chapter 21: Cold Harbor of 1864. (search)
was a wonderful recovery. There was a gunner in Calloway's battery named Allen Moore, a backwoods Georgian and a simple-hearted fellow, but a noble, enthusiastic man and soldier. The only other living member of Moore's family was with him, a lad of not more than twelve or thirteen years; and the devotion of the elder brothe I could see the figures of the cannoneers standing out boldly against the sky. Moore was at the trail adjusting his piece for the night's work. His gunnery had bevalley and lost sight of the group, but heard Calloway's stern voice: Sit down, Moore! Your gun is well enough; the sharpshooting is not over yet. Get down! I roseew; but as I came up the sergeant stepped aside and said, See there, adjutant! Moore had fallen on the trail, the blood flowing from his wound all over his face. Htered shirt-sleeve and kissed the pale face again and again, but very quietly. Moore was evidently dead, and none of us cared to disturb the child. Presently he