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Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 36. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones) 3 1 Browse Search
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 24. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones) 1 1 Browse Search
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Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 24. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), The Newmarket charge. (search)
The Newmarket charge. Gallant deed of the Babes of the Confederacy. Mr. Howard Morton, a Federal soldier, writes the following account of the Virginia Military Institute cadets' action in the battle of Newmarket, which appeared in the Pittsburg Dispatch: Opposite is the enemy's line of gray, belching forth fire and smoke. Those immediately in front of us are comparatively inactive. They have not yet mended their broken fences. We look to the further end of the rebel line. Out from an orchard steps a small body of gray-clad troops. Something about them attracts attention; their marching and alignment are perfect, their step is unlike that of the veterans who marched against our front. Their movements are those of a crack battalion on dress parade. They look like boys; the strong glass shows they are boys. It is the battalion of pupils from the Virginia Military Institute, 225 in number. These little fellows, whose ages range from fourteen to sixteen years, drawn
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 36. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), chapter 1.38 (search)
been often described, but the story will be read again and again, and always with thrilling interest. Comrade C. A. Richardson finds in his scrap-book the following account of the part borne by the cadets in this famous battle written by Mr. Howard Morton, a Federal soldier, which appeared in the Pittsburg Dispatch, and which, we agree with him in thinking, is worthy of republication. In his enthusiasm Comrade Richardson says: In all the heroic annals of time this memorable battle-epic, like a rich and rare gem, will ever continue to sparkle and glow in all the effulgent splendor of an undimmed lustre. Here is Mr. Morton's account: Opposite is the enemy's line of gray belching forth fire and smoke. Those immediately in front of us are comparatively inactive. They have not yet mended their broken fences. We look to the further end of the rebel line. Out from an orchard steps a small body of gray-clad troops. Something about them attracts our attention; their ma