MEN WHO COMMANDED THEMSELVES AND DID NOT SWEAR.
THE Mississippi River was very much swollen in the spring of 1863, and a bayou near Helena offered a possible channel in the direction of Vicksburg. It was broad and deep enough to admit the passage of steamers and gunboats, but too narrow for a boat to turn around.
A fleet of steamers, bearing a well-chosen force, and accompanied by gunboats, was sent down this bayou. The fleet of boats had not gone far till the way was found blockaded. Large trees had been cut down, so that in falling they bridged the narrow stream from shore to shore. But determined men can overcome almost any obstacle.
They did not stop to cut the trees to pieces, but loosened them from the stumps, attached ropes and chains to them, and with their hands, by main force, pulled them out onto the dry land. Overhanging branches had to be cut away, and yet all the outworks of the boats were torn to pieces. Finding that this channel of approach was impracticable, a retrograde movement was made. There was but one way to get the boats out, and that was to back out stern foremost.
But while they were pushing on, the enemy had been felling the trees behind them, and the same hard work of pulling them out by human hands became necessary; and it was done.
It was my privilege to see the fleet of boats as it came in to join the force opposite Vicksburg, and a more dilapidated, ragged-looking lot of boats and men was never seen on the earth.
They looked as though they had been through a dozen battles. Little was left of the boats but the substantial framework. The flags hung in tatters; the smoke-stacks had been carried away; the pilot-houses torn to pieces; the guards and outworks were gone; the wheel-houses torn away, and the broken wheels left bare.
As heroes returning from battle, the soldiers of that expedition were welcomed by hearty cheers, as boat after boat came in, by their comrades. One boat, the first to enter the bayou, was the last to come in, and arrived about ten o’clock at night.
The landing was made alongside our Sanitary boat, where the agents and workers of the Sanitary and Christian Commissions were quartered. There were a number of ladies there; and their sympathies were deeply moved, that men who had been out on such hard service should be marched out through the rain and mud at so late an hour to make their camp.
“Why can they not stay under shelter where they are till morning?” was the indignant question that passed from lip to lip, as we stood out on the guards looking down upon them.
By the flambeau that burned with a weird, lurid light, we could dimly see them fall into line and march away, with their knapsacks on their backs and their guns in their hands. But they were a jolly set; and as they plunged into the mud, which was nearly knee-deep, some wag among them cried out, in imitation of boatmen taking the depth of the channel, “No bottom! no bottom!” Every soldier seemed to instantly join in the chorus; and “No bottom! no bottom!” rang out from hundreds of throats, which was soon varied to “No chickens!” “No coffee!” “No ’taters!” as they plunged on in the darkness.
Of course such conduct was not consistent with military dignity, and so the colonel tried to stop them. But the noise was so loud that he failed at first to make himself heard.
“Halt!” he cried in thunder tones.
Immediately there was entire quiet; every man stood still just where he was to hear what his commanding officer had to say; not a foot moved.
“Soldiers, you forget yourselves,” said the colonel. “I know it is raining, and the mud is deep, and the fare and the work have been hard; but you are in the midst of a great army, the commanding general’s quarters are near; what will be thought of such noise and confusion? You misrepresent yourselves; we will march quietly to camp. Forward, march!”
Not a passionate or profane word was spoken. We were all curious to know who the officer was who could command himself as well as his men.
The next day I was at General Grant’s quarters; and I inquired as to who the officer was, and told the story.
“I do not know him,” I said earnestly, “but I am sure he ought to be promoted. A man who can govern himself as he did last night ought to wear a general’s shoulder-straps.”
“That was Colonel Legget. He is a good man, and a very fine officer,” was the general’s reply.
“Do you know, General, that there is a great deal of profanity among the officers and men?”
“Yes, I know; I am sorry that it is so.”
“I am glad to hear you say that you are sorry.”
“I never swear.”
“Indeed! It is encouraging to hear a man of your influence say that. I am glad you have so much moral principle.”
“It is not moral principle,” he answered quickly. “I never contracted the habit of profanity. I should not utter an oath if I knew what I was about; and, not having the habit, I would not likely do so unconsciously. Profanity does not comport with the dignity of the military service.”
“No; nor with Christianity, which lifts a higher standard. I wish you could have said that Christian principles furnished an added restraint.”
“I believe in the Christian system, and have great respect for Christian people. They are doing a grand work in the army; but I am not a Christian as you understand it.”
“I wish you were. You walk amid dangers, and many of us feel anxious about you—many prayers go up for your safety. I would feel that you were safer for both worlds if you were a Christian.”
“I would like to be a Christian.”
Just then General Rawlins, one of the grandest men of the war, who was his chief of staff, came forward with some documents for examination, and the close conversation was interrupted, and I took my leave. I am glad to know that afterward he professed faith in the Divine Redeemer.