The Life and Work of James A. Garfield, Twentieth President of the United States: Embracing an Account of the Scenes and Incidents of His Boyhood; the Struggles of His Youth; the Might of His Early Manhood; His Valor As a Soldier; His Career As a Statesman; His Election to the Presidency; and the Tragic Story of His Death.Ridpath, John Clark
History
The Life and Work of James A. Garfield, Twentieth President of the United States: Embracing an Account of the Scenes and Incidents of His Boyhood; the Struggles of His Youth; the Might of His Early Manhood; His Valor As a Soldier; His Career As a Statesman; His Election to the Presidency; and the Tragic Story of His Death.
Ridpath, John Clark
Garfield, James A. (James Abram), 1831-1881
Before long the din of conflict could be heard opposite the cabin. The
advance was being fiercely contested. Messengers one after another came
asking for reinforcements. General Garfield received their messages,
asked each one a question or two, turned for a few moments to his map,
and then issued orders for support to the right center. As the battle
raged fiercer in front of the cabin, the sounds from the extreme left
grew lighter. At two o’clock they ceased altogether. The battery had
been recaptured, and the enemy silenced for the time being. Meanwhile,
the battle at the center became more terrible. Ambulances hurried along.
Poor fellows, pale and bleeding, staggered back to the road.
Occasionally a shell dropped near the cabin, exploding with frightful
force. The roar was deafening. General Garfield had to shout to General
Rosecrans in order to be understood. The domestic animals around the
cabin were paralyzed with fright. No thunder-storm, rattling among the
mountain peaks, had ever shaken the earth like the terrific roar of the
shotted guns. A half mile in front of the cabin, a dense smoke rose over
the tops of the trees. All day long it poured upward in black volumes.
The air became stifling with a sulphurous smell of gunpowder. The
messengers hurrying to and from the cabin had changed in appearance. The
bright, clean uniforms of the morning were torn and muddy. Their faces
were black with smoke; their eyes bloodshot with fever. Some of them
came up with bleeding wounds. When General Garfield called attention to
the injury, they would say: “It is only a scratch.” In the excitement of
battle men receive death wounds without being conscious that they are
struck. Some of the messengers sent out came back no more forever. Their
horses would gallop up the road riderless. The riders had found the
serenity of death. “They were asleep in the windowless palace of rest.”
It was impossible to predict the issue of the conflict in the center. At
one minute, a dispatch was handed Garfield, saying that the line was
broken, and the enemy pouring through. Before he had finished the
reading, another message said that our troops had rallied, and were
driving the enemy. This was repeated several times.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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