Another Civil War veteran's story written to the National Tribune:
NATIONAL TRIBUNE, May 24, 1888, p. 12, c. 1-3
"Joe."
Who His "Bunky" Turned Out to Be.
by Capt. Jack Crawford, "The Poet Scout."
On the long journey from my home in New Mexico to the East I stopped off for a day in a town in Western Kansas, that great "old soldier" State, and attended a meeting of the Grand Army Post located there. At the close of the meeting one of the officers of the Post said to me:
"Comrade, I want you to come home with me and stay over night. I cannot promise you extra fare, for my wife has gone back East to visit her folks, and good hired girls are scarce in this new country, but I can give you a soldier's welcome, and, perhaps, a little better grub than we used to get in war times."
I gladly accepted the invitation, for the home of a comrade, no matter how humble it may be, posses for me far more attractions than the best hotels in the land.
I accompanied the comrade to a beautiful cottage in the outskirts of the town, and while sitting in his cozy parlor he handed me a tintype of a boyish-looking soldier—such a picture as nearly every comrade had taken in a tent by one of the field artists who followed the troops during the war.
"This cannot be your picture?" I remarked, transferring my gaze from the handsome, boyish features to the comrade's manly, bearded face.
"No," he replied, with a smile, "that is Joe. He was my 'bunky' at one time during the war, and if you care to listen I can tell you a queer story about the little fellow."
I assured him that I would listen with pleasure, and he continued:
"I was a private soldier in an Iowa regiment attached to the Fifteenth Corps. Numerous battles in Tennessee and Mississippi and the diseases incident to that hot climate had greatly decimated our ranks, and one day a lot of recruits reached us, several of whom were assigned to my company. Among them was Joe Ransom, whose picture you hold in your hand. He was a little, almost childish looking fellow, and from the day he joined us the veterans of the company seemed to look down upon him. They dubbed him 'the baby,' and many were the predictions that a very little hard service would break him down, and that the roar of the first battle would terrify him and make him cry to be sent back home to his mother.
"The taunts and gibes heaped upon the boy awoke sympathy in my heart, and I soon found myself taking a deep interest in him. I enlisted at a very early age and was but little more than a boy myself, and by various little acts of kindness and words of encouragement I soon gave him to understand that he had at least one friend in the company, and I could see his face light up with pleasure every time I approached him.
"One day while we were camped in a forest on Black River, in Mississippi, I started to a spring about a quarter of a mile distant to fill some canteens with water. On the way I met Joe, who had just emerged from a side path in the woods, and his red, swollen eyes told me that he had been weeping.
"'Why, Joe,' I said, 'what is the trouble? What have you been crying about?'
"His tears began to flow afresh, and in a broken voice he replied:
"'Charlie, you are the only man in the company who is good to me, and I just can't stand the way the men treat me any longer. They make me the laughing-stock not only of the company, but of the whole regiment, and it makes me miserable. They call me a 'baby,' and say that I ought to be at home helping my mother wash dishes instead of being down here trying to play soldier. O, will we never get into a fight? When we do they may find out that the big men who wear whiskers are not the bravest.'
"'O, pshaw, Joe!' I said, 'you musn't mind the boys, for they don't mean half they say. They see that it worries you when they guy you, and think it is fun to play upon your feelings as they do. Just pay no attention to them, and they will soon let you alone.'
"'How can I help but pay attention to them. I know I am young and small, and maybe I ought to have stayed at home, but I do my duty just as well as the biggest man in the company does. I believe I'm a better soldier than half of them now, if I haven't been out long. Can I help it that I wasn't born sooner than I was?'
"'Maybe if you would report the matter to the Captain he would put a stop to all this. Hadn't you better go to him and tell him how the boys treat you?'
"Joe's eyes flashed as he replied:
"'That's just what I've been crying about. You know the Captain drinks, Charlie, but then he always seems so good-natured that I did venture to go to him a while ago. I went into his tent and took off my cap and saluted as respectfully as I knew how, and he looked at me and laughed and said, "Hello, baby; how do you get along with you milk down here?" It made me mad, Charlie, and I told him if I loved milk as well as he loves whisky I wouldn't be able to get along without it at all, and then I left the tent and came out there in the woods just because I had to cry and didn't want anybody to see me. I expect he'll put me in the guardhouse for insolence.'
"'No, I think not, Joe,' I said. 'Capt. Williams drinks, it is true, but he is a brave old soldier, and as big-hearted a man as there is in the regiment. He is a good man, Joe, if he does get a little tipsy when not on duty.'
"The words were scarcely out of my mouth ere the Captain came around a bend in the path and stood before us. He halted and, folding his arms, began to look Joe steadily in the eyes.
"'So you think I like my whisky, eh?' he said. 'Do you know what I ought to do in a case of this kind?'
"I could see Joe's lips trembling, and I knew that it was with difficulty he was keeping back the tears.
"'Captain,' he said, 'I know you ought to punish me for my insolence, but, indeed, I couldn't help it. I beg your pardon, sir and_____'
"'Stop, my boy! You are on the wrong track. I am going to do my duty as an officer—and as a gentleman. It was I who was wrong, and I humbly beg your pardon for my insolence. Give me your hand, my boy, for I believe you have the material for the making of a good soldier in you.'
"Joe grasped the honest, outstretched hand and actually kissed it, and I never before saw such an expression on a human face. His eyes filled with tears, and the look he gave the Captain was one of mixed astonishment, gratitude and joyous surprise.
"'O, Captain,' he said, 'I would give anything if I could recall what I said to you, but I was desperate. The men of the company had made me wild with their taunts, and I had gone to you for relief, hoping, O, I cannot tell you how much I hoped, that you might do something for me. Captain, I enlisted through as pure patriotism as ever swayed a human breast and came down to the front resolved to do my whole duty in battling for my country, but the men have made my life miserable before I have been given a chance to show in battle that I am a soldier. I know now that you did not mean it, sir, but when I went to you for relief and met with the same taunt that had almost crazed me I became desperate and spoke to you as I did. I am sorry that I did so.
"'Why, my boy, I never dreamed that the men were abusing you. I had heard that they had given you the title of 'the baby soldier,' but thought it was all in fun, and that you didn't mind it. Tell me all of your troubles right now.
"Joe did so, and also told him that I was the only one who had befriended him since he joined the company. The men in his own tent, he said, were the worst, and from the time they went in at night until sleep silenced them they tortured him with their taunts. I spoke for the boy and told the captain that it was shameful the way they abused him.
"'Who bunks with you, Parker?' the Captain asked.
"'No one, sir,' I replied. 'Harris, who was killed at Shiloh, was my 'bunky,' and I have since had none.'
"'Then you take the boy in with you and take care of him. Tell the First Sergeant it is my order, and he must make the transfer at once. I will see what I can do to put a stop to the men so annoying him.'
"And so it happened that Joe that night became my 'bunky,' and we shared the same blankets thereafter.
"The Captain gave the men to understand that they must let the boy alone, but his orders only had the effect to make them more cautious in their annoyance. To his fault of being young and green, and of having never smelt powder in battle, he had now added that of being a 'tattler' to the officers, and every old soldier knows what that means. They still harassed poor Joe, but not so openly as formerly.
"We laid in that camp in the damp woods, which were full of malaria and rattlesnakes, for two months, but at last the welcome, longed for marching orders came, and a cheer of thankfulness went up from thousands of throats when the army was again in motion.
"We had gone into camp after the fourth day's march, when 40 rounds extra of ammunition was issued, and the men were ordered to see that their guns were in perfect condition, and to be ready to move at daybreak in the morning. We all knew what that meant—that the enemy was in front of us, ready to give battle.
"Joe's eyes beamed with a strange light, and when we laid down in our blankets beneath a great oak tree he could talk of nothing but the morrow and what it might bring. At one time he said:
"'Charlie, I know there will be a battle, and I am glad of it. I feel that after it is over the boys will no longer call me 'baby,' and will not treat me as they now do. And, say, Charlie, if anything should happen [to] me, if I should fall, I wish you would open my knapsack, and in it you will find a Bible with my mother's name and address written on the fly-leaf, and inside the Bible is the picture I had taken back at Black River. Send them both to her, and tell her what became of me.'
"That is the same picture, comrade, which you hold in your hand.
"' I thought you sent the picture home yourself, Joe.' I said.
"'No, I did not. I have never told you, Charlie, but—but my people don't know where I am. I ran away from home to enlist. If I should not answer at roll-call after the battle, please write to my mother and tell her all about me. The picture will tell her the rest.'
"I thought the remark a strange one, but I was too tired and sleepy to question him, and assuring him that if he fell, and I was spared, I would faithfully carry out his wishes, I fell asleep.
"Before daybreak next morning we were awakened not by the shrill bugle notes as usual, but by the First Sergeant going from man to man and quietly rousing us. Breakfast was soon dispatched, and at the command 'Fall in' the men took their places, many of them for the last time.
"We started on the march and had proceeded about two miles when scattered shots were heard in advance. The deployed skirmishers were playing the prelude to the dreadful song of battle.
"A halt was ordered, and then all was activity along our lines. Aids-de-Camp galloped hither and thither, bearing orders to division, brigade and regimental commanders; batteries of artillery flew swiftly by to the points to which they were ordered, the wheels rumbling, the horses snorting and the drivers playing whip and spur to urge them to still greater speed; cavalry regiments thundered along, the sabers of the men clanking against the steaming sides of the excited horses; bugles blared in every direction; general officers galloped along the blue-clad lines inspecting the ranks with eager eyes—all a thrilling prolog to the great drama of death about to be enacted—while from the front the sharp firing of the skirmishers came back to us, seeming to invite us to the fray. From far beyond the skirmish lines the sounds of bugles could be occasionally heard amid all this din and confusion, and they told us that the same scenes were being enacted in the ranks of the enemy.
"'Will we never move?'
"It was Joe's voice, and glancing into his face I could read the spirit of eagerness which swayed his young soul, and could see determination pictured on his flushed face.
"'Forward! Steady, men!' and we advanced through the wood. The skirmishers fell back and took their places in the line, and in a few moments the storm of battle burst upon us in all its fury.
"It was a terrible fight, and men seemed to fall like leaves on every hand. We had been engaged for perhaps half an hour when the rebels made a sudden, unexpected charge right up to our line. They were repulsed with great slaughter, and when they slowly fell back a cry of rage went up from our ranks, for our regimental flag went with them, borne by disloyal hands. Our color-bearer had been killed, and one of the enemy seized the flag as he fell, and bore it off.
"Suddenly a form was seen to dart forward from the line, and almost before we could realize what had happened Joe rushed up to the captor of our colors, knocked him down with his gun, seized the flag, and bore it back to the regiment, where he unfurled it and waved it in defiance at the foe. Many shots were fired at the heroic boy, but he seemed to bear a charmed life and escaped unhurt. The cheers which greeted the hazardous exploit were deafening. Men threw their hats high in the air and yelled themselves hoarse as the gallant boy returned the flag to the color company and returned to his place by my side.
"'Joe, my brave boy, you are a hero!' I proudly cried, as he looked up into my face with a triumphant smile.
"'No, I am only a baby,' was his quiet reply. 'Heroes are big men who wear whiskers. I'm only a baby, Charlie.'
Then came an order to charge, and with a cheer the line moved forward. We had advanced but a short distance when I felt what seemed like a dull blow from a heavy missile in the groin, and I sank to the ground. I tried to rise again as the men charged over me, but could not, and realized that I had received a severe wound. Soon the men came slowly falling back, stubbornly resisting the repulse they had met, and as they passed the spot where I was lying Joe stopped and knelt beside me.
"'Are you badly hurt, Charlie?' he asked eagerly.
"'I fear I am, Joe; but you must not stop here. Keep with the regiment, for the enemy is following up the repulse and will soon be on us, and you will be killed or captured.'
"'I cannot leave you here,' he replied. 'It would be cowardly in me to desert the only friend I have in the company.'
'"They are all your friends now, Joe, and you must go. For God's sake go quick!'
"'No, I will not,' he replied firmly. 'I will save you, or I will die here with you. Put an arm around my neck and I will raise you to your feet, and may be able to get you off the field.'
"I saw that further urging would be useless, and did as he directed. He seemed to have acquired almost superhuman strength as he raised me and half-carried, half-dragged me toward where our regiment had again made a stand. We had almost reached the line, and the men were again wildly cheering the young hero, when I heard him say: 'Oh, I am hit, Charlie!' and at the same moment we both fell heavily to the ground. Then the loss of blood and the shock overcame me, and I lost consciousness.
* * * * * *
"When I regained consciousness I found myself lying on a cot in the field hospital, the Regimental Surgeon bending over me. As I looked up in his face in an inquiring manner, he kindly asked:
"'Well, my boy, how do you feel now?'
"'Very weak, Doctor. How long have I been here?'
"'Two days. You have had a close call, Parker, but with care I think you will now pull through all right. In a day or two, as soon as I think you can be moved with safety, I will start you to the hospital at Memphis, where you will have good care, and you will soon recover.'
"'And—and—was Joe—killed?' How I dreaded to ask the question.
"'No, the little hero was not killed; but received a bad wound in the shoulder. I myself dressed the wound, and made a most remarkable discovery during the operation. Charlie, our baby soldier is a girl!'
"'A girl! Why, Doctor, you cannot be serious. You cannot mean it!'
"'Yes, it is true, Charlie; and a brave, heroic girl she is, too. She has been started to the Sisters' Hospital at St. Louis, and from there will be sent to her home in Iowa. Before leaving she begged to be carried here to see you, but you were delirious and did not recognize her. We bore her to the ambulance weeping and praying for your recovery.'
"Well, comrade, you can imagine my astonishment at this revelation. My little 'bunky' a girl! It fairly dazed me. A couple of days afterward I was sent back to Memphis, and after two months in the hospital was again reported fit for duty and sent back to my regiment, and served without receiving another scratch until the war ended. I marched with Sherman to the sea, and, beginning as Corporal, was promoted step by step. Capt. Williams was killed at Kenesaw Mountain, and on that last grand review at Washington I marched as Captain at the head of my company."
"And Joe?" I asked. "What became of him? Of her, I mean?"
"I think I told you just before leaving the Post room to-night that she had gone back East to visit her folks. She has been my 'bunky' ever since the war."
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