Early the following spring the Twenty-third returned to Camp Cumberland and on July 26, 1865, a little more than four years from the time of enlistment, the regiment was mustered out and the scarred veterans who had experienced four years of dangers and hardships returned to their homes.
The records show that William McKinley, Jr., enlisted as a private in Company E of the Twenty-third Ohio Volunteer Infantry on June 11, 1861; that he was promoted to commissary sergeant on April 15, 1862; that he was promoted to Second Lieutenant of Company D on September 23, 1862; that he was promoted to First Lieutenant of Company E on February 7, 1863; that he was promoted to Captain of Company G on July 25, 1864; that he was detailed as Acting Assistant Adjutant General of the First Division, First Army Corps, on the staff of General Carroll; that he was brevetted Major on March 13, 1865, and that he was mustered out of service on July 26, 1865.
“For gallant and meritorious services at the battles of Opequan, Cedar Creek and Fisher’s Hill,” reads the document commissioning young McKinley as Brevet Major, signed “A. Lincoln.”
This is the brief statement of four years of such activity as are hardly comprehensible by the sedate citizen in these “piping times of peace;” but they were years which tried and tested the material of which William McKinley was formed, and years in which that symmetrical development of his whole being went majestically on. As it ripened and quickened his judgment, teaching him self-confidence and the power of rallying resources; as it planted deep in his nature the love of country and the sense of sacrifice which proves all patriotism; as it brought him into closer communion with his fellow men in camp and battle, on the march or in the agonies of the field hospital—so it developed the physical powers of the vigorous young man. He has since said, looking at some photographs of himself, taken at the time of his enlistment: “I was, indeed, a raw recruit.”
And he was. The portrait shows him rather slender, and with features which indicate a certain delicacy and refinement which were far from the appearance of the ideal soldier of books—the powerful frame, the flashing eye, the weather-beaten cheeks “bearded like a pard.” And yet he stood that day of his enlistment, a raw recruit, as the type of millions of his countrymen, as the expression of the best that was in the nation either for peace or war. And the four years of his slow advance to a major’s commission was the most necessary and the most valuable process of development that could possibly have come.
And whether for peace or war, it was the work his nature needed for the service of his nation, for the labors of most value to his people. The beardless boy, delicate in physique, grew to be a rugged, powerful man. The outdoor life, the exposure and hardship, the struggles and suffering and self-control, the planning, the quick decisions, the control of other men had all worked together for the development of a splendid citizen. So that he was mustered out of the service at the end of the war with beard on the lips that had been smooth when he took up the musket of a private soldier, and called back to President Lincoln, in the chorus of marching Americans: “We are coming, Father Abraham—three hundred thousand strong!” And his shoulders were broader, and his muscles were harder, and his view of the whole world was essentially that of a man who had been tried by fire and not found wanting.
It is fair and proper in this connection to present the testimony of those who occupied position above him, and who related in after years the impressions which young McKinley made upon them in his army days. For one thing, he was is no sense an ambitious man. Had he been stung with the asp of ambition he might easily have passed those who commanded at the beginning. His was the education, the training of the brain and the body, the judgment and the patriotic zeal out of which great leaders are made. But he was not a self-seeker. He simply accepted his duty when it presented, and discharged it perfectly. Nothing was illy done. Nothing was half accomplished. His task was fully discharged in every instance, and he was never the man to thirst for power, to maneuver for promotion. The advances which marked his soldier life came to him unsought, the well-earned rewards of a merit which none could deny, coupled with a modesty which all could admire.
General Russell Hastings watched him through a number of battles, and at Cedar Creek saw him tried beyond all ordinary measure. General Hastings, then with the rank of captain, was on the same staff with young Lieutenant McKinley, a member of the same regiment, the Twenty-third Ohio. They were close friends through the war, and remained so throughout their later life. They ate at the same mess, slept under the same blanket, and—when they had a tent—occupied the same tent together. It was in 1892, when William McKinley loomed large because of his loyalty to a friend in political life, that General Hastings placed upon record his recollections—forever stamped upon the pages of his memory—of an incident from the soldier life of his friend in that battle which began with “Sheridan twenty miles away.”
On the Union side was only Crook’s corps, some 6,000 strong, while opposed to it was the full force of Early’s army. The odds were too great; so, after some severe fighting, Hayes’ brigade, which was engaged, drew back in the direction of Winchester. “Just at that moment,” says General Hastings, “it was discovered that one of the regiments was still in an orchard where it had been posted at the beginning of the battle. General Hayes, turning to Lieutenant McKinley, directed him to go forward and bring away that regiment, if it had not already fallen. McKinley turned his horse and, keenly spurring it, pushed it at a fierce gallop obliquely toward the advancing enemy.
“A sad look came over Hayes’ face as he saw the young, gallant boy riding rapidly forward to almost certain death. * * * None of us expected to see him again, as we watched him push his horse through the open fields, over fences, through ditches, while a well-directed fire from the enemy was poured upon him, with shells exploding around, about, and over him.