Storm Over The Land: A Profile of the Civil War
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Taken mainly from Abraham Lincoln: The War Years. 60 halftones from photographs; 98 drawings, maps, and sketches.
Colored pickets on duty near Dutch Gap, Virginia. Once where the lines had broken under a staggering fire, Sheridan rushed in. “Where is my battle flag?” And as the color sergeant rode up and handed him the crimson and white banner, the wild Irish commander waved it over his head, cheered the ranks on—while bullets hummed like swarming bees. One pierced the flag itself, another brought down the sergeant who had carried it; horses of two staff officers went down from the flying lead. A
of very warm Union men who yet sought to make very large profits out of their patriotism. These clamored for all sorts of contracts for horses, beef, mules, hay, wagons, etc. And when they did not succeed, they naturally charged Fremont with favoring friends and acquaintances of his from the East or California.” Amid his difficulties Fremont held a theory he once wrote to his wife in a letter: “War consists not only in battles, but in well-considered movements which bring the same results.” He
copies of Lincoln’s order and sent three messengers by separate routes with it. Curtis had heard of Fremont’s arrangements for no removal order to be delivered. From German regiments came threats of mutiny; they had enlisted, men swore, to fight only under Fremont. He addressed them, asking for loyalty, praising his successor: “Soldiers! I regret to leave you. . . . I deeply regret that I shall not have the honor to lead you to the victory which you are about to win.” General Hunter temporarily
and groaning in ambulances; others by thousands in shallow rain-soaked graves where hurried burying squads had shoveled them over, still others by thousands, as at Shiloh, Malvern Hill, Gettysburg, with ribs and skulls picked clean and bare by scavenger birds, rain and sunlight finally giving them an ancient and inviolable dignity. Three years of these rocking lines of destroyers seeking each other and unable to destroy to an end. Three years of it and no foreteller had foretold it as it
though serious look out of his eyes, and an expression of homely sagacity, that seems weighted with rich results of village experience.” Honest at heart, “and thoroughly so,” the novelist believed, “and yet, in some sort, sly,—at least, endowed with some sort of tact and wisdom that are akin to craft. . . . But, on the whole, I like this sallow, queer, sagacious visage, with the homely human sympathies that warmed it; and . . . would as lief have Uncle Abe for a ruler as any man whom it would