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.
LIEUTENANT JOHN J. WHITE.
We want to give a slight tribute to the memory of a very brave young officer of company F, Lieut. John J. White.
This young man had enlisted in his company as a private. He was young, intelligent, a stranger to the company at its organization, but his soldierly bearing, intelligent comprehension of duty, and its prompt performance, soon attracted attention to him as comprising the material suited for a leader, and he was promoted to a lieutenancy. At the crossing of the Sand Town road in front of Atlanta, August 7, 1864, the lieutenant was in command of company G, under temporary detail for that purpose. The short advance made by our line at that place, was accomplished in the face of a galling fire of musketry and artillery, not less than half a dozen batteries of the enemy, centering their fire upon our exposed ranks. Men were falling in every direction and the scene was for a time simply terrific. Our position once reached, the men were ordered to lie down. The confusion of getting into position doubled the line in some parts and left gaps in others. Lieutenant White was actively endeavoring to get the left to give way so as to let all of company G into line, and in meeting with opposition he stepped a few paces to the right to inform the colonel of the situation, and was just in the act of saluting him with his sword, when a shell from the enemy crashed through his right shoulder, tearing the arm from his body, from which wound he died in a few hours. Amid the storm of battle, when brave men expose themselves only from necessity, that coolness and mental collection that enables an officer to remember all the refinements of discipline, even to the salutation of his superior, is a quality to be admired, as it evinces a talent so essential to command under the most trying circumstances. Lieutenant White was of a modest and retiring disposition, ordinarily, but in action was the impersonation of true courage. He was beloved by all who shared his more intimate fellowship, and his death cast a gloom over the regiment. May peace forever brood over the land that holds the remains of the brave soldier.
OUR COLOR BEARERS.
Who but brave men would solicit the honor of carrying the colors, or who of any other quality would not murmur if ordered to that post of great responsibility and danger? Yet who ever heard a word of complaint from James H. Simpson or James M. White? Whether in the bright sunshine or under the storm cloud, in camp or on the weary march, on the defence, or in the deadly assault, on through to victory or defeat, they never swerved or faltered, but always stood true to their great trust, until the last hostile gun was fired, and these brave boys returned their battle and storm scarred emblems to the government they had so nobly served. How in the desolation of the conflict, the right and left flanks, when the burden of the fight seemed to be almost an individual one, would cast their eyes towards the center, and learning that "our flag was still there," caught a new inspiration and redoubled their energies for the victory. And now as we reflect that our nation's banner waves triumphantly over all this broad land, the emblem of peace and law, and as our hearts swell with gratitude and just pride over this grand consummation, let us not forget the honor due the men whose heroism during the perils of war kept our flag from the pollution of traitor hands.
ASBURY D. FINLEY.
It would not do to forget in this connection the name of Asbury D. Finley, private of company A. No truer heroism was ever displayed than by this young man on the Peach Tree creek battle-field. The 85th Illinois, commanded by Major Rider, was sent forward across a narrow corn-field and into position, as ordered by Col. Dilworth, then commanding the brigade. Our regiment was ordered to advance to near the edge of the corn-field and support the 85th, and although only a short distance apart, we could not see the 85th for the standing corn. We had remained in this position for some time, when it became apparent that the rebels were on the ground formerly occupied by the 85th, though we had received no notice of the removal of the latter regiment. In this state of doubt, and to make sure of the situation, Col. Langley called for a volunteer to go forward, learn and report the condition of things to the front. It was a task that even brave men would not covet, but at once Finley rose and offered to go. Receiving his instructions he started through the corn-field. But the result and the colonel's appreciation of the act, and his impressions after the lapse of more than sixteen years, we will give in his own words taken from a personal letter to Mr. Finley of date February 14th, 1881:
Champaign, Illinois, February 14, 1881.
A. D. Finley, Esq., Catlin, Illinois.