My Friend Moses

[SWMODave]

John Habberton - courtesy Wikipedia
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John Habberton was well known in the late 19th century as an American author, widely known for the best selling "Helen's Babies". During the war, John served as a sergeant with the 1st Regt New York Mounted Rifles, and then as an officer with the 20th USCT, recommended for that position by George Curtis, brother in law of Robert Gould Shaw of the 54th. In 1876, John penned a lengthy article for a magazine about a friend he had made during the war. As it is lengthy, I have broken it into 4 parts, one part to be posted over the next four days.

(It is my hope that you have, or have had, a friendship in your life that you can describe as John does in the very first sentence of this story)

Part One

While the late civil war was in progress I unwillingly gained an acquaintance who finally became my dearest friend, and from whom I parted with a regret which I can not hope to outlive. His position was far too lowly for his deserts, yet he seemed always to be loyally content therewith. Although a tried and approved hero, Congress never tendered him a vote of thanks, nor was he ever the recipient of a dress-sword, a gold-mounted revolver, or a handsome set of accouterments from his native town or State. It was perhaps as well for all concerned, that my friend Moses had not been offered any of these evidences of the occasional fallacy of the rule regarding the in gratitude of republics, for so complete was his satisfaction with his customary surroundings that he would have regarded any conventional testimonial with good-natured wonder not unmixed with contempt. The privilege of action, and the consciousness of brave deeds dared and arduous toils accomplished, were to Moses the fullness of reward for all his successes. To camp vices he was an utter stranger; he never gambled, swore, drank, or used tobacco in any form. Upon property rights his mind was not always clear, but even here his transgressions were dictated only by the highest sentiments of self-preservation; he appropriated the property of others only so far as was necessary to the maintenance of life; and what in this individual case was called theft was that operation which when performed by a collective military body, was known as the permissible act of " foraging." Loyal, intelligent, honest, industrious, enduring, handsome and brave, there was yet one fatal bar to the promotion of Moses ---he was a horse.

Rumor hath it that members of a family closely allied to that of Moses, but exhibiting more generosity of ear, have been found within the uniforms of brigadiers, and even under the stars of major-generals; but the shortness and delicacy of Moses's organs of hearing made it impossible for him to hope for promotion through family influence. His nearest approach to preferment occurred when I, his temporary owner, added one stripe to the two which were already on my sleeve, and became by virtue of my position as second sergeant, the commander of a platoon of cavalry, with the right to ride upon the flank of the column. Moses seemed to grow a hand in stature when he realized that he was not thereafter to have his dainty nose switched by the tail of a file-leader, or his tender feet trodden on by a clumsy follower. Like many others of the blessings of my life, Moses came not only unsought, but against my will. When the company to which I belonged had been in service a scant month, and before it possessed a horse or a fire-arm, the regiment was ordered out as a scouting party, and a hurried issue of horses and arms was made. As at this time the war had lasted but a year and a half, it was not wonderful that no ammunition could be had for the revolvers. The quartermaster had plenty of carbine cartridges, however, and the only three members of the company who had ever used loose ammunition in revolvers were detailed to break up the cartridges, remold the bullets, and charge the hundred pistols. I was one of the three. Between reluctant machinery in the weapons, and the trimming of some bullets which a warped mold left misshapen, the task lasted from the tattoo of one night until an hour or two after the reveille of the following morning. When, with aching eye, I sought the stables, the wonder of which I had heard of many times since the company had been aroused, the stable-orderly led me to a stall, pointed to its occupant, and remarked, " That's your boss."

The animal, an angular, sorry-looking beast, laid his ears upon his neck and shot forth his heels, perhaps by way of introduction. "I won't ride such a brute!" I roared, retreating upon the orderly's feet in my anxiety to escape the animal's flying hoofs. " Won't, eh ? " snarled the official, mumbling over some dreadful oaths, as he squeezed his bruised toes. "Then you'll have to walk, I guess, for he's the last boss of the lot-all the rest is give out." I had already been a soldier long enough to recognize at sight the inevitable; but the longer I gazed at my charger the more dismally my spirits drooped. I had long thought that the most desirable approach to danger would be to have a horse shot under me; the contemplation of this particular animal confirmed me in my impression, and caused me to hope for a speedy realization of my pet dream of glory. But contemplation was out of order at seven o'clock of a morning on which " boots and saddles" was to sound at 7.30 ; so I hastily attempted to become acquainted with my horse. The stables were open at the rear, but closed in front, and roofed with loose pine poles upon which brushwood had been thrown. Attempting to enter the stall, I was warned by the occupant's ears to desist, and my ejaculation in imperious tones of "Whoa, sir! stand over!" was received with silent contempt. There was but one hope left; so, followed by the jeers of the orderly, I climbed the frame of the stables, and let myself down through the roof.

(to be continued tomorrow)

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[donna]

I know another great story. Can't wait for part 2.

 

[John Hartwell]

I do love a good story. Thanks for this. Looking forward to the next installment.

And, yes, I can identify with that first sentence; though mine was not "while the late civil war was in progress," but "during my first week of college, in the fall of 1965."

 

[SWMODave]

Part 2
Compelled at last to grant me an interview, my new acquisition noticed that I held in one hand a piece of an army biscuit, upon which I had been breakfasting. This he sniffed at and appropriated, assuming slowly the eye of a gratified connoisseur. I immediately extracted another biscuit from my pocket and presented it, a morsel at a time, following up as rapidly as possible the favorable impression I had made. I stroked his nose, patted his withers, rubbed down his legs, and smoothed his flanks. When, finally, I gently scratched the under part of his jaw (a service which no horse can perform for himself), he expressed his confidence by rubbing his nose on the breast of my jacket, and we parted, temporarily, with assurances of mutual under standing. When, however, "boots and saddles" finally sounded, and I led my charger, duly caparisoned, to the company street, he hinted pretty strongly his disapprobation of the whole proceeding. " Prepare to mount! Mount!" shouted the captain. The instant I gained the saddle my horse shot from the line, galloped to the stables, and dashed into his stall, his master dropping over the animal's neck just in time to escape impalement on the poles which constituted the low-hanging eaves. Tightening his curb chain, I again led the animal toward his company, mounted him, and tried to ride into my place in line. But the noble steed preferred to select his society for himself.

On the general parade-ground a group of mounted officers sat chatting, and toward these my horse moved sidewise, in spite of bit and spur. Edging his way into the group he manifested his delight by a series of vigorous kicks. Numerous, and of scriptural derivation, were the remarks which this operation called forth, as by merciless spur ring I urged the brute back to his own troop. Reaching the troop, he moved along its rear, kicking without intermission, and finally took position on the extreme left, where the captain was glad to leave him.

During our first expedition a Trinity (Dublin) man called my attention to the brands on my horse's shoulder. Above the U. S. which each army horse displayed was the letter of my own troop, M ,- beneath the Government brand, and not so distinct, was the letter A, which had been bestowed in earlier days. "M-U-S--A," quoth my Irish friend," that's the Greek for Moses." A bad pun or two came from listeners, one to the effect that Moses was a profit - to the man who sold him-—and that he seemed at home in rushes, such as that which he had made on the stables; then the troop decided, with my consent, that Moses was to be my horse's name. From that day to the sad one which witnessed his untimely taking-off, Moses never failed to create entertainment and demand admiration.

Under good treatment, and with the assistance of more oats than he was legally entitled to, his form soon lost all lines but such as were graceful. When occasion presented, he proved himself the fastest horse in the regiment. His watchful eye took in all details of camp and road, while his sleepless heels commanded the respect of his comrades. So skilled was he in the use of these natural weapons that when a contraband gravely suggested that Moses's early education had been conducted by a mule, the troop unhesitatingly accepted the theory. So gleefully and neatly were his kicks delivered, so regardless was Moses of the object which they might strike, that my comrades, excepting only those who had been kicked, regarded Moses's efforts with that admiration which Englishmen are wont to accord to skillful boxers. On our first battalion drill, as we wheeled from column of platoons into line, the successful completion of the movement was hailed by Moses with a joyous kick which broke the leg of the sergeant upon the flank of the platoon at my right; the sergeant, who was an old soldier, remained in hospital a year and a half with his fracture and its sequences, but upon his return to duty he never spoke reproachfully to or of Moses. It mattered not whose horse happened to be tied near him when the column halted temporarily; he injured a general's horse, once, because of a trifling disagreement about some oats belonging rightfully to the latter, and when, one lovely evening, the chaplain tied his horse near mine and retired to the forest and his devotions, the holy man's charger was so effectually lamed that his owner completed the expedition on the caisson of a mountain howitzer. Curing short halts, general and staff officers, looking around a well-occupied rail fence for a tying place,-were often attracted by the vacant space which members of my own troop had learned to leave on each side of Moses; then it was that the weariest patriot in the regiment would cheerfully raise his head in anticipation of the excitement which was sure to follow, and men who lived not for themselves alone would steal silently among the unwary, rousing every one who slept, knowing well that the smothered curse would be mentally retracted the instant the sleeper learned why he had been awakened.

Moses was a consistent materialist. Of any source of strength other than that whose organic basis was in his own stomach he had no conception; his operations in provisions were therefore as guileless as the unlawful acts of a pagan. This concession was not always made as cheerfully as it should have been by those whom Moses despoiled of their property. He would quietly gnaw a hole in the grain-bag upon the saddle of some horse near him, and do it with such intelligence that only such oats as he himself removed would be lost. No one knew better than he the way of a haversack; could he find one of these carry-ails at a saddle-how or upon a tree, he would open it with his teeth, and extract such vegetable diet as it contained, not excepting coffee and sugar. The familiarity born of true friendship was the apparent cause of my being occasionally relieved of three days' rations by Moses,-who would deftly examine my haversack as I stood be fore him in that obliviousness which comes of interested conversation. Occasionally I wounded his feelings by rebuking him for his thoughtlessness, but when one day, Moses, with penitent countenance, offered back to me, with his teeth, the much chewed Bag which had held my coffee and sugar, I vowed that I would thereafter forestall by watchfulness the necessity for reproof. Like most beings who are successful in appropriating the property of others, Moses was grandly generous when occasion demanded.

(to be continued)

 

[SWMODave]

Part 3

In a large cavalry camp, permanently located, there are generally a few horses which are hopelessly worthless, and only await the formality of survey to gain admittance to the eternal shades by the way carefully marked out in the Army Regulations. These poor animals are frequently turned loose, and compelled to find material for their own sustenance, while the rations drawn for them are distributed among serviceable horses. On a cold winter morning, one of these poor veterans who had been denied admission everywhere else timidly approached Moses's stall. The alert ears pointed warningly, and an uplifting of the terrible heels seemed imminent, when Moses, who had looked around at the intruder, suddenly forbore all hostile demonstrations; he signified his sympathy, in some manner known only to horses, so promptly and unmistakably that a moment later the Wayfarer was eating the oats which I had shortly before deposited for Moses, while the benefactor, first passing his nose gently along the stranger's neck, licked his shoulder, which was as near an approach to the human pat on the back as could be expected of a horse. Never before or afterward did I detect Moses in the act of going hungry for sweet charity's sake, but in subsequent days I never ceased to suspect him of gentle deeds, and I scorned to discuss the question with that wretched clique of philosophers who demanded proof in support of every moral theory.

When I was upon the back of Moses, I could easily divine the origin of the myth of the centaur. My own sentiment seemed always to communicate itself to my horse; after we had passed the first week of our acquaintanceship, I was never conscious of any effort to impart my will to Moses. So long as my hand touched the bridle rein, he knew my every mood, and even when the rein dropped he would not manifest serious doubt. Never was I startled but Moses's great heart began to thump violently under the saddle, the disturbance quieting only when my own mind became re-assured. In like manner, Moses's feelings were quickly impressed upon his rider. It was impossible for me to feel despondent when Moses was cheerful; good spirits always increased his dignity and grace, so that even out of shame I would reform my own spirits until they corresponded with his. Occasionally he would discover the superiority of his own intelligence, and then, instead of displaying the arrogance which is natural to beings of low birth and defective breeding, he would be simply firm and insist upon his supremacy.

On the darkest night I ever knew, my regiment was in a strange neighborhood in Virginia, endeavoring to effect a surprise, but neither duty nor danger deterred me from dropping asleep in my saddle. I must have guided Moses unconsciously out of the road and halted him, for when I awoke, every thing about us was still. Our situation was unenviable, for before I had fallen asleep we were nearer Richmond than our own camp (at Williamsburg). Trying to find the road, an occasional encounter between a tree and one of my knees showed me that we were in a forest, and the evidence repeated itself too often to let me imagine that I had succeeded. At length I dropped the rein, despairing of finding the road before day-break, but no sooner had I abandoned the search than Moses took command ; he threaded his way among the trees, found the road (which was excellent) and at once took a gait which I knew, without ocular demonstration, to be unusual. So much time was consumed on this solitary ride that I determined that Moses must be returning to camp, and I endeavored to check his speed, lest I might alarm the pickets and be favored with a shot for not having the countersign. But for once Moses was refractory; he rightly objected to divided responsibility in a case where it was evident that all the positive convictions were on one side. Gloomy forebodings of a trial by court-martial for abandonment of duty while in the face of the enemy, were suddenly arrested by a cry of, " Halt! Who comes there?" I pulled desperately at the bridle and shouted " Friend!" but Moses for the first time in our mutual career disregarded a summons which he understood as well as I did; he dashed furiously along, and I heard a familiar voice exclaiming, " Look out, boys - it's H - on that infernal kickin' plug of his !" Then I knew we were passing our own rear-guard; a moment later, though I could not discern even a shadow, the jubilant kicks which Moses launched, and the vigorous oaths which they elicited, showed me that I was again in my rightful position on the flank of my own troop.

On another occasion, Moses displayed his intelligence in a manner more nearly human. He and I had been sent from the front to a post twenty miles away, to pilot an infantry regiment to the general rendevous; we had therefore endured forty miles of extra duty between dusk and daylight. Utterly exhausted, I threw myself on the ground in an old cornfield where my company was in bivouac, and with Moses's bridle over my arm, and a corn-hill for a pillow, I dropped asleep. I was finally aroused by some one raising my feet alternately and then dropping them. My capabilities as a sound sleeper had made me the subject of many a similar trick, but that any one could so mistreat me on this particular morning seemed maliciously cruel. Feigning sleep, I slowly moved my hands over the ground in search of a clod with which to punish my tormentor; finding this, I sprang up hastily, to find that Moses was the offender, and that he was about to repeat the operation. An alarm had been sounded, the company was mounted and ready to go into action, and Moses had taken upon himself the responsibility of waking me, the whole troop smiling approval and greeting his success with three hearty cheers, to which he responded by some veritable horse-play.

Like all other beings of fine organization, Moses held death in utter horror. His first encounter with the destroyer nearly deprived him of my companionship, for at the sight of a dead horse he shied so violently that I nearly lost my seat. Then he approached the body; wistfully and wonderingly he looked it over with solemn earnestness, and then he turned his head and looked inquiringly at me, his great eyes taking a deep violet hue, and seeming to melt. I did all that I could to comfort him, but that which was a mystery to me I could not hope to explain to Moses, so for the remainder of the day he was subdued and pensive of mien.

(to be continued)

 

[donna]

What a fine horse. So sad about the horses. Moses seemed to have a sense about their plight.

 

[JOHN42768]

Great "Tail" (pun intended)

 

[SWMODave]

Final Part

I was one of three men who alone, out of the hundred recruited for my company, were politically in sympathy with the party in power; when, therefore, in the fall of 1863, the Government began to raise colored troops and officer them from the rank and file of the volunteers, my compatriots were untiring in their suggestions that I should join myself to individuals who, by half of my company, were styled my "dharlin naygurs." I was " passed " by the Examining Board which sat in Washington, but when I learned that no cavalry appointments were to be made, my heart sank within me. For what was to become of Moses? 1 had longed for a cavalry appointment, in which case I hoped, with the connivance of my old captain, to convey Moses to the department quartermaster, from whom I might purchase him at the Government valuation. Hope came from an unexpected source, however; the department commander, who was a favorite of the Administration, was organizing cavalry regiments from the contrabands within his line, and he offered me an appointment. With this in my pocket, in the same envelope with an order from Mr. Stanton to report for duty to the commandant of an infantry regiment organizing in New York, I set out one morning for department head quarters, forty miles away. During a preliminary ride of ten miles, on the back of Moses, my mind was so distressed by conflicting emotions, that I had no heart for rejoicing over the certainty of promotion from the ranks. For a cavalry sergeant to accept any infantry position which would compel him to march on foot seemed willful degradation; on the other hand, my family was in New York, and not even the pride of a trooper could stifle natural affection. I finally grew reasonably cheerful, under the hope that, on reporting for duty at department head-quarters, an earnest appeal might secure me a short furlough, in which case I could visit my family, roll my infantry appointment into cigar-lighters, and hurry back to Moses and duty. I did not communicate my plans to Moses; even could I have been sure of making him understand them, I trembled at the thought of the jealousy which might be his when he learned that he was not alone in my regard, and I dreaded to wound his pride by the suggestion that he could be bought at the price of an ordinary horse. But Moses seemed instinctively to gain a knowledge of the whole matter; he exercised that prophetic faculty which is peculiar to beings of exalted ideals and pure lives. Many times, in the course of this short ride, he turned his head suddenly to look at me; when, finally, I dismounted, and, determined not even to imagine a final good-bye, spoke cheerily to him as I handed his halter to the man who was to lead him back to camp, Moses cast upon me a look of sorrow not entirely unmixed with reproach. This was too much. I threw my arms about his neck, drew his head down, and told him the whole story. For a moment he seemed somewhat to doubt the sincerity of my devotion, but at length he rubbed his nose in my bosom, and I felt that confidence between us was fully restored. To be prepared against the worst, I took a generous strand from his wavy mane and hid it in my breast-pocket, offering in return a piece of bread, which I rejoiced to think would become a part of Moses's very life. He intently watched my embarkation by steamer, and as the boat left her pier and I hurried aft and shouted "Good-bye, Moses!" the faithful fellow stopped suddenly on his homeward journey, and took that observing pose which is above all others intelligent I never doubted that his eyes discovered the friend for whom they were seeking, for the royal switch which he gave with his tail was not prompted by any external irritation.

At department head-quarters I learned that the commandant was absent, and the New York steamer was just ready to depart; then it was that the fates strove successfully for my relatives and against Moses. When it became known in my old camp that the rider of Moses had departed, nine out of ten of the regimental officers and privates wanted the horse; my captain, however, who was the sole legal arbiter of Moses's fate, was a gentleman, and therefore able to sympathize with a bereaved horse. He consulted me and complied with my desire that my special two-footed friend should thereafter act as chief companion to Moses; as this soldier had long been Moses's faithful admirer, without ever manifesting a single sign of selfishness in his feelings, and had even stolen oats for Moses when I was sick, I felt that the arrangement would be consolatory and beneficial to my old charger, though I never once believed that Moses would forget his first love. I demanded and received frequent bulletins of Moses's health, and sent many affectionate messages to him, but I never allowed my jealous feelings to disturb the peace for which I was unable to substitute anything better. Like many another hero of the war, Moses was not allowed to meet a hero's death. A stupid boor (who afterward became a deserter) one day felled a tree in such manner that it fell upon Moses and crushed him. An old friend of mine, controlling an impulse to shoot the murderer, made haste to put a merciful bullet into Moses's ear. No hole of earth received his remains, for the forest, taking fire soon after his death, afforded a funeral pyre of a magnitude somewhat in keeping with the virtues of the dead hero.

Since parting from Moses I have formed acquaintanceship with many estimable horses, whose mental and physical virtues I have never been reluctant to acknowledge; I have passed many a pleasant hour in studying the faces and forms of horses of fine family and faultless breeding; but no other horse has ever had the slightest success in at tempts to step into that place in my heart which Moses vacated. The spur which occasionally—never with cause—had touched Moses's side is as dear to me as lady's glove ever was to lover, and no treasured curl in America can inspire more tenderly mournful reveries than does a braid of hair taken from the mane and tail of Moses.

When I recall the friends of other days, Moses is among the first of those who respond; and sometimes, when in dreams of the night I imagine myself to have passed into that land for which even the worst doubters find themselves often hoping, and am surrounded by a welcoming group of dear old friends of every age and condition, among and between them is sure to steal, first a sensitive nose, then an honest brown face, two soft eyes, and a starred brow, over which waves a lock of coal-black hair.

(The end)

As so many did during this period in history, this story ends sadly. But it was too wonderful a story not to share.

 

[donna]

Oh dear I should have know it would end so sad. It brought tears to my eyes. Thanks for sharing Moses' story. Maybe John and Moses have met in heaven. We do know that if animals go to heaven, as I believe, Moses is there.

 

[mofederal]

Dog stories can be the saddest stories of all. Most of us have lost dogs. It is hard for me to even think about it now. I just want to have her lick my face one more time, and see her tail wag. Thank you for the great story @SWMODave.