Maj. Clymer said: “Well, I hope he was acquitted. I have slept many a time on my horse during a hard march, when if I had been placed on guard-duty I would have gone to sleep in five minutes.”
“So have I,” said Capt. Zeke Inglesby.
“Yes, yes. I have no doubt of that; but it is not the men who commit acts against law that are always punished, but those who are caught. These men seemed to think this a terrible crime in this boy, and yet, perhaps, there was not one of them who could have done differently under the same circumstances.
“After the witnesses had been heard against the poor boy, he showed great mental suffering and agony; the disgrace to his parents and sister was what troubled him so much. His company officers were sworn, and stated that prior to this no complaint had ever been made against the boy. That although they only knew him as a soldier, they had always observed his neatness and soldierly appearance and bearing; they all thought that the march the two days before and until 9 o'clock the night on which he was found asleep on post, was calculated to tire out a boy of his frail organization.
“The Chief Surgeon stated that a boy of his constitution would be very likely to drop to sleep anywhere after such a strain upon his physical strength.
“This closed the evidence with the exception of one witness. The boy asked if he could make a statement to the Court. Some discussion arose on this point. The Court was cleared, and Jackson said that he afterwards learned that old Gen. Sleeman grew very angry at the idea of refusing an innocent boy a chance to say a word in his own defense. Finally, it was agreed that the boy might make his statement. He arose, and, with a tremulous voice and much agitation, said:
“'Gentlemen of the Court: I am a poor boy. My life is of no value to me, and but little to my country. I have risked it several times without fear or nervousness. For my parents' sake I would like to go through this war with an honorable record. To take my life would do me but little harm. I can meet death as a true soldier. But what can this great Government gain by taking my life? You can inflict ruin, distress and misery upon an old man and woman, and upon my queenly sister, who is now going through more perils, if I am correctly informed, than any of us. I came to the army not for gain. I was getting much more pay without risking my life, but I felt it my duty to aid in sustaining our Government. I did not dream, however, that in the event that I should escape death from the hands of the enemies of our country that, for an unhappy result entirely unavoidable, my comrades-in-arms would hasten to make a sacrifice of me. Were I guilty of anything that I could have avoided, then I would not ask for leniency; but this I could not avoid. That I slept on my post I will not deny; but I pray you hear my excuse. It is this: Two days before this offense was committed, we had marched through rain and mud some twenty miles in pursuit (as it was said) of Forrester's cavalry. I did not see many horse tracks in the road, however, and took it that our forces had captured all their horses, and that the rebels were taking it on foot, as we were.'
“Here Gen. Sleeman laughed, and said sotto voce: 'That boy ought to be put in command of our cavalry, instead of being shot.'
“'The night of this march my messmate, John Martin, a boy of my own age and my neighbor before coming to the army, was taken quite ill. It was his turn to be on guard. I took his guard duty that night, and was entirely without sleep. When not on post I was attending to him, as he would have done for me. The next day John was not able to carry his knapsack and gun on the march, and as we had no transportation, I carried his as well as my own. The burden was very great for me, and when we arrived in camp I was completely exhausted. John was not able to stand my guard, and when I told the Sergeant my condition, he would not excuse me, and gave as a reason that I had no business to carry John's gun and knapsack, inasmuch as I had no orders from him to do so. I think the Sergeant would do much better as a General than as a Sergeant. I may do him injustice, and I would not do that for the world, but I do believe that he entertains the same high opinion of himself that I do of him.'
“At which remark old Gen. Sleeman laughed again, and said, so as to be heard, 'That boy will be a man some day, and, by the eternal, it would be a crime—yes, a murder—to shoot him.'