Those who ask these questions simply fail to comprehend either the magnitude of the civil war, the vast number of men enlisted in the ranks of the Union Army, the hardships or privations to which they were exposed, the frightful legacy of wounds and disease their service entailed, or the time that has elapsed since their final muster-out. When these things are considered, the wonder will be, not that so many, but that so few of the soldiers of the Union need the helpful sympathy and assistance of their more fortunate comrades, and of all generous and grateful people.
Nearly twenty-one years have come and gone since the war closed, and of the 2,700,000 persons enlisted in the Union Army, probably a million still survive. These men are all growing old. Few of them are under forty years of age; the vast majority, perhaps, are over fifty; and very many are nearing or past sixty years. Enfeebled by wounds or disease, they are year by year less able to bear their part in the great battle of life as bravely or as successfully as they did in the desperate struggle to preserve the Republic.
It should not be forgotten that 224,306 soldiers were discharged from the army because of wounds or disease, and that a far larger number, mustered out in seeming good health, had contracted the seeds of disease which will shorten their lives and enfeeble their powers. The Surgeon of my regiment, a learned and experienced physician, once said to me that there was not a man in the Army of the Cumberland who would not ultimately suffer from the effects of the hardships, exposure and privations to which that army was subject. Said he: “Two months of semi-starvation in Chattanooga were followed by the cold and desolate winter campaign in East Tennessee, and that by the alternating rain, heat and fatigue of the campaign against Atlanta; and the strongest and most healthy men in the regiment will some day suffer from the effects of such service.”
Within a year I have read accounts of the death of fully a dozen soldiers from the effects of wounds received nearly a quarter of a century ago. About two years since a gallant officer of my own regiment was confined to his bed for several weeks by the reopening of a wound received at Chicamauga, in 1863. These are only isolated instances among thousands, but they fairly illustrate the fact I wish to present, that the effects of the war upon the physical powers of a vast multitude of soldiers are just beginning to be felt.
I do not join, and never have joined, with those who assert that the Government and the American people have forgotten the obligations they are under to the men whose patriotism and valor preserved the Republic. As a soldier and an American citizen, I am proud of the fact that this assertion is not true. Occasionally, I know, there have been just grounds of complaint; occasionally it has seemed that the war, and all the noble sacrifices and splendid devotion of our soldiers were like an old, old story, growing stale and uninteresting; and now and then isolated cases can be cited to justify a charge of forgetfulness or ingratitude. But the time has not been, and I trust it never will be, when it can be truthfully said that any appeal in behalf of the disabled, destitute and deserving soldiers of the Union would be unheeded. As evidence of the truth of this statement, this fair, and those held by the Grand Army Posts on the south side during the past three weeks, and the generous patronage the people give to all of them, may be cited.
There are now on the pension rolls of the United States the names of over two hundred thousand soldiers, and over a hundred thousand soldiers’ widows, and during the past twenty-two years the Government has paid to pensioners over $750,000,000. It has provided National Homes for nearly ten thousand disabled survivors of the war, and these are being enlarged every year. Several States have built or are building other homes; and the people, acting in their individual capacity, have contributed millions of dollars to charities having for their object the relief of disabled soldiers. In brief, no other Government, no other people, in any age or country, has remembered and provided for its defenders, and for the dependent relatives of the fallen, with such abounding generosity.
But this liberality, this generous care for the survivors of the war, must be continued for many years to come. The heroic men who periled their own lives to save the life of the Republic, are, as I have said, growing old, and every revolving year adds to the number of those who are unable to support themselves or provide for their dependent families. It is not right or just that any of these men should be permitted to suffer the pangs of want. They offered all they had—health, ambition, life itself, for the country. No saint or martyr ever gave more than they. The Government, the people, can never repay them, but they can do something to relieve their necessities, to protect them from want, and to make their declining years happy with the thought that their services are not forgotten. This is the noble purpose you have in view in organizing this fair; this is the inspiration of those who patronize it; and this, I am glad to believe, is a duty which the American people will always willingly recognize and generously discharge.
IN MEMORIAM.
An address, delivered at Wichita, Kansas, on Memorial Day, 1886.
Comrades of the Grand Army, and Ladies and Gentlemen: The growing popularity of Memorial Day, and the increasing interest in the beautiful ceremonies of its observance, are among the most happy and hopeful indications of American sentiment. All the good or evil of to-day is but the result of yesterday’s teaching. Our greatest historian, speaking of the men who mustered on the village green at Lexington, “and fired the shot heard round the world,” declares that “the light that led them on was combined of rays from the whole history of the world; from the traditions of the Hebrews in the gray of the world’s morning; from the heroes and sages of Republican Greece and Rome; from the example of Him who died on the cross for the life of humanity; from the religious creed which proclaimed the divine presence in man, and on this truth, as in a life-boat, floated the liberties of nations over the dark flood of the Middle Ages; from the customs of the Germans transmitted out of their forests to the councils of Saxon-England; and from the cloud of witnesses of all the ages to the reality and rightfulness of human freedom.”