of ammunition gone, the little companies of old, regular Indian-fighters had been deployed as skirmishers in close order, behind trees and bushes and hillocks, and had suffered comparatively small losses.
The following colloquy occurred between one of them and a volunteer whose cartridge-box, as he was proud to show, was empty.
Volunteer: ‘How many shots did you
Old soldier (looking into his cartridge-box): ‘I fired just nineteen.’
Volunteer: ‘And how many rebs do you think you killed?’
Old soldier: ‘I guess I killed about nineteen.’
One beautiful, quiet Sunday afternoon, in front of Atlanta
, when even the pickets were respecting the Sabbath day, my headquarters band, which had been playing selections of sacred music, easily heard on the other side of the lines, struck up a favorite Southern air of quite a different character.
Quickly came a shell crashing through the trees far over our heads.
The band as quickly took the hint and changed the tune.
Such little ‘courtesies’ from our ‘friends the enemy’ were not at all uncommon in the short intervals of rest from deadly work.
says in Vol.
II, page 60, of his ‘Memoirs’:
During the 24th and 25th of June, General Schofield extended his right as far as prudent, so as to compel the enemy to thin out his lines correspondingly, with the intention to make two strong assaults at points where success would give us the greatest advantage.
I had consulted Generals Thomas, McPherson, and Schofield, and we all agreed that we could not with prudence stretch out any more, and therefore there was no alternative but to attack ‘fortified lines’—a thing carefully avoided up to that time.
The first sentence literally means that I extended my right ‘with the intention,’ on my part
, ‘to make two ’