August 6, 1864
I took a limited
ride along our flank defences, where I discovered a patriotic sentry, sitting
with his back to where the enemy might be supposed to come, and reading a
novel! He belonged to the 7th Indiana. “What are your instructions?” say I. “Han't
got none,” replies the peruser of novels. “Then what are you here for?” “Well,
I am a kind of an alarm sentinel,” said this literary militaire. “Call the
corporal of the guard,” said I, feeling much disposed to laugh. The sentry
looked about a little and then singling out a friend, called out: “Oh, Jim,
why, won't you just ask Jeremiah Miles to step this way?” After some delay,
Jeremiah appeared. He was in a pleasing state of ignorance. Did not know the
sentry's instructions, did not know who the officer of the guard was, did not
know much of anything. “Well,” said I, “now suppose you go and find the
sergeant of the guard.” This he did with great alacrity. The sergeant, as
became his office, knew more than the corporal. He was clear that the sentry
should not read a book; also that his conduct in sitting down was eccentric;
but, when it came to who was the officer of the guard, his naturally fine mind
broke down. He knew the officer if he saw him, but could not remember
his name. This he would say, the officer was a lieutenant. “Suppose you should
try to find him,” suggested I. Of course that he could do; and soon the “Loo-tenant”
appeared. To him I talked like a father; almost like a grandfather, in fact;
showed him the man's musket was rusty and that he was no good whatsoever.
Loo-tenant had not much to say; indeed, so to speak, nothing; and I left him
with a strong impression that you can't make a silk purse from a sow's ear. It
is not ludicrous, but sad, to see such soldiers in this Army of the Potomac,
after three years of experience. The man could not have been better: tall,
strong, respectful, and docile; but no one had ever taught him. It was a clear
case of waste of fine material, left in all its crudity instead of being worked
up. And this is the grand characteristic of this war — waste. We waste arms,
clothing, ammunition, and subsistence; but, above all, men. We don't make them
go far enough, because we have no military or social caste to make officers
from. Regiments that have been officered by gentlemen of education have
invariably done well, like the 2d, 20th, and 24th Massachusetts, and the 1st Massachusetts
Cavalry. Even the 44th and the 45th, nine-monthers, behaved with credit; though
there was this drawback in them, that the privates were too familiar with the
officers, having known them before. However, perfection does not exist
anywhere, and we should be thankful for the manifold virtues our soldiers do
pre-eminently possess. I see much to make me more contented in reading Napier,
before referred to. After the taking of Badajos, the English allowed their own
wounded to lie two days in the breach, without an attempt to carry them off.
This is the nation that now gives us very good lectures on humanity. As to old
Wellington, I suspect he was about as savage an old brute as would be easy to
find.
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 206-7
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