WHILE THE CONFLICT RAGED
Lincoln's Call for 100,000 Men. Enlistment. Captain Conwell. In Camp
at Springfield, Mass. The Famous Gold-sheathed Sword.
In 1862, Lincoln sent out an earnest call for 100,000 men for the war.
Russell was not longer to be denied, and his father permitted him to
enlist. What silent agony, what earnest prayers for his safety went
up from his mother's heart, only other mothers in those terrible days
knew.
He raised a company from Worthington, Chesterfield, Huntington,
Russell, Blandford and the neighboring towns and was unanimously
elected captain, though only nineteen. His earnest, fiery speeches had
already made him famous, and when it was known he had enlisted and was
raising a company, there was a rush to get into it, and the men as
with one voice, demanded that he be their captain. No one ever thought
of canvassing against him. A committee was appointed to wait on
Governor Andrew to persuade him to commission Russell in spite of his
age, and when he received the appointment, the cheers and applause of
the enthusiastic, the quiet satisfaction of the sedate, showed the
place which he had in their hearts. It is almost incomprehensible to
those not acquainted with the man, but those who have come in contact
with him, know what a hold he would soon gain over those "Mountain
Boys," as the company was called. His kindly sympathy would quickly
make them feel that in their captain, each had a warm personal friend.
His generous heart would back up that belief with a hundred and one
little acts of thoughtful kindness. Over each and every one would be
exercised a watchful care that cheered the long days, lightened heavy
loads, lessened discomforts. It is little wonder that their devotion
to him amounted almost to adoration. Gray-haired men followed him as
proudly as though his years matched theirs. Indeed, to their loyalty
was added a fatherly feeling of guardianship over him, because of his
youth, that brought a new pleasure into the relationship. The company
was knit together with the bonds of loving comradeship as were few
others.
The rendezvous of the company was at Huntington, and there a banquet
was given before the troops departed for war. Proud day for him when
he marched down the familiar road from South Worthington, through the
autumn woods with their slowly falling leaves, their shadowy forest
aisles all glorious now with the banners of autumn, past the white
farmhouses with their golden lilies, the faithful little brook singing
ever at his side. Sad day for his mother as she watched him go, long
looking after him, till she could see no more for tears.
From Huntington the company went into camp at Springfield. And now
came into use, those tactics and drills he had studied as a boy, and
others he had been secretly studying ever since the war broke out. His
men were astonished to find how perfectly at home he was in military
tactics. It further added to their pride in him. They fully expected
him to know as little as they, but when he came to his work fully
prepared, to their admiration of him as an orator, their love as a
leader, was now added their confidence as an officer.
Camp life at Springfield made war no longer a glorious contemplation
but an uncomfortable reality. The ground for a bed, a spadeful
of earth for a pillow, sharp mountain winds, cold autumn storms,
insufficient food, hinted at the hardships to follow. The gold and the
alloy in the men's characters began to shine out, and Company F soon
realized in practical ways, the nature of the man who led them. His
new uniform overcoat went to a shivering boy, his rations were divided
with those less fortunate, his blankets were given to a comrade in
need. Always it was of his men, not himself, he thought.
Before leaving camp for the seat of war, Captain Conwell was presented
with a sword by his Company, bearing this inscription:--
"Presented to Captain Russell H. Conwell by the soldiers of Company F,
46th Mass. Vol. Militia, known as 'The Mountain Boys.' Vera Amicitia
est sempiterna. (True friendship is eternal.)" Colonel Shurtleff made
the speech of presentation. The passionately eloquent reply of the
boy captain is yet remembered by those who heard it. He received the
beautiful, glittering weapon in silence. Slowly he drew the gleaming
steel from its golden sheath and solemnly held it upward as if
dedicating it to heaven, the sunlight bathing the blade with blinding
flashes of light. His eyes were fixed upon the steel, as if in a rapt
vision, he swept the centuries past, the centuries to come, and saw
what it stood for in the destinies of men. Breathless silence fell
upon his waiting comrades. Thus for a few moments he stood and then he
spoke to the sword.
"He called up the shade of the sword of that mighty warrior Joshua,
which purified a polluted land with libations of blood, and made
it fit for the heritage of God's people; the sword of David, that
established the kingdom of Israel; the sword of that resistless
conqueror, Alexander, that pierced the heart of the Orient; the Roman
short sword, the terrible gladius, that carved out for the Caesars
the sovereignty of the world; the sword of Charlemagne, writing its
master's glorious deeds in mingling chapters of fable and history; the
sword of Gustavus Adolphus, smiting the battalions of the puissant
Wallenstein with defeat and overthrow even when its master lay dead on
the field of Lutzen; the sword of Washington, drawn for human freedom
and sheathed in peace, honor, and victory; then he bade the sword
remember all it had done in shaping the destinies of men and nations;
how it had written on the tablets of history in letters red and lurid,
the drama of the ages; closing, he called upon it now, in the battle
for the Union, to strike hard and strike home for freedom, for
justice, in the name of God and the Right; to fail not in the work to
which it was called until every shackle in the land was broken, every
bondman free, and every foul stain of dishonor cleaned from the flag."