SERGEANT S. C. ABBOTT.
Numbers of our readers will remember Sergeant S. C. Abbott, of company H. Always in earnest about everything he undertook, impatient of delay, anxious to end the job and go home about his business, which greatly needed his attention. He was perhaps older than the average of the regiment, a very intelligent man, and had preached to some extent before entering the service. Some time in the fall of 1863, he applied for a furlough, urging business considerations, but after a good deal of delay, his application was returned—"denied." He received the information just as the regiment was on the march to a new camp, the route to which, took us nearly by General Thomas' headquarters at Chattanooga. The sergeant, vexed at the delay, and mortified at the refusal of his request, concluded to cut all red tape, and go in person to General Thomas with his application. He accordingly broke ranks, went alone to the house the general was occupying, passed by every sentinel, and burst into the august presence of the great army chief. Holding his returned application for a furlough in his hand, his whole manner evincing the desperation of his purpose, he thrust the offending endorsement under the very nose of the commander of the armies, and demanded, as one having authority, to know what the language meant, and why his application was refused. He was referred to the proper officer for explanation, but he would accept no reference, and in an impassioned appeal to grant the favor he asked, he struck the tender side of the good old general's nature, who at once, with his own hand, we believe, erased the offensive word, "denied," and wrote thereon, "granted;" and the over rejoiced sergeant was soon homeward bound, filled with thoughts of love for good old "Pap" Thomas. This was not our purpose, however, in introducing Sergeant Abbott to your notice. The above may be called an act of boldness, "cheek," "strategy," or what you will, but surely there were few men who would have taken the risk. We remember this daring soldier on other occasions. At the close of the battle of Missionary Ridge, and while we were pursuing General Manny's brigade of rebels across a small, boggy stream, just about dark, to our front and left were standing some ammunition wagons, abandoned by the enemy. They were necessarily in the line of our march, but as we approached them, one of the wagons was discovered to be on fire, and nearly full of fixed ammunition, not yet removed from the boxes. The regiment immediately swung to the right, to avoid so dangerous an enemy. Some one had the presence of mind to call for volunteers to help extinguish the fire before it should communicate to the powder, and produce the explosion that would have been inevitable, and possibly disastrous to human life. All shrunk involuntarily from the task, but the sergeant, well toward the right of the regiment, and in comparative security, at once ran down to the left, and promptly answering, "I will go," suited his action to the word, and in a moment was fighting down and conquering the fire with no more concern, or trepidation, than if he was adjusting it for cooking his rations. His act was justly applauded by all who witnessed it. It is a pity so brave a man should go through life maimed as he is, but he met the common fate of the soldier, and was severely wounded July 20th, 1864, at Peach Tree creek, and will probably carry the missile intended for his death, in his body so long as he lives. On the morning after that battle, the sergeant had gone a little to the front, to spy out where some rebel sharp-shooters lay concealed, and were firing upon our men. He succeeded in locating them, and was in the act of pointing out their position to Colonel Langley, when he was wounded. This was the last service he did with the regiment, as the severity of his wound necessitated his discharge, and he left us regretted by all his comrades who had learned his sterling qualities.