Speech delivered at the Reunion of the Society of the First
Regiment, Kansas Volunteers, at Atchison, August 10th, 1881.
FELLOW-SOLDIERS: It is reported that an old Roman once said: “If I were
not a Roman citizen, I would be a Greek.” This is an anniversary of the
First Kansas, and upon such an occasion, and in a similar spirit, I
declare that if I was not an Eighth Kansas man, I would like to be a
First Kansas man.
This is especially a reunion of the First Kansas, but to their festival,
with true soldierly fellowship, they have invited all other soldiers who
care to join in celebrating the anniversary of one of the most desperate
battles of the war, and especially all who have, not exactly “drank from
the same canteen,” but served in the same commands.
With the exception of my own regiment, I had, during the war, a more
familiar acquaintance with the First than with any other body of Kansas
troops. And the First represented, probably more than any other
regiment, that magnificent uplifting of national pride, patriotism and
enthusiasm which succeeded the first shot at Sumter. No man who cannot
remember the spirit of that hour can have any conception of the fierce,
strong, irresistible outburst which flowed over the whole land when the
flash of that gun revealed the Nation’s danger. There was more coolness
and deliberation, and no doubt quite as much sincere patriotism and
noble consecration to a great cause, in the formation of regiments under
subsequent calls. But the men who responded to Abraham Lincoln’s first
call for 75,000 men, represented, more than any others, the passionate
resentment and white-heat enthusiasm of that most startling and
momentous event in American history. To them belonged the soldiers of
the First Kansas.
And the regiment nobly sustained the promise of its rapturous and
wonderful organization. Within two weeks after the Governor had called
for volunteers the regiment had its full complement of companies; in ten
days more it was in Missouri; within a month after it was sworn into
service it had formed a junction with General Lyon at Grand River; and
in but little more than two months it had taken part in one of the most
desperate and bloody battles of the war, losing over one-third of its
effective force, and by its unflinching courage, determination and
coolness, reflecting imperishable honor upon the name of the State.
Its subsequent career was alike creditable and distinguished. It
participated in thirty battles and skirmishes; the tramp of its feet was
heard in eight different States, from the Missouri to the Gulf; it
marched over six thousand miles; it followed the flag it loved during
the revolving seasons of three long, gloomy and eventful years; it made
history wherever it went, and did its full share in the work of
suppressing rebellion and annihilating slavery; and finally, when the
term of its service was concluded, a large number of its soldiers
reënlisted as veterans, to see the war through to the end.
The soldiers who served in its ranks have a just right to be proud of
the record of their regiment, and to unite, on such an occasion as this,
in reviving the incidents and events of their comradeship. Into no
living man’s life, probably, will ever come such a lifting of noble
emotion as that which swept over our land twenty years ago, and sent the
flower of our youth and manhood hurrying off to the war. What eager,
exciting, restless, passionate days those were! Probably not one of you
had the faintest conception of the reality of war. Most of you thought
it would be over in six months or a year. We all forgot that the men
arrayed against us were Americans, and that the war was to be the old,
old story of Greek meeting Greek. Most of you thought, no doubt, as
nearly all volunteers did, that you might be cheated out of a chance to
meet the “insolent foe,” by a sudden collapse of the Confederacy, and
the hanging of a man named Davis on the sourest of sour-apple trees. Few
imagined that the weary months would roll on, until the three years’
term of enlistment should expire, and still another year must elapse
before Appomattox came. But you did your duty through it all, fulfilling
every obligation you had made.
And herein, I have always thought, the American volunteer exhibited the
noblest qualities and the truest heroism. A battle is a terrible ordeal,
but it never lasts long. It is the weary march, the silent vigils of the
picket-line, the cheerless bivouac, the dull monotony of camp duties,
the hard fare, the long procession of days dragging through spring,
summer, autumn and winter—it is all of these, crowded full of
discomfort, and fatigue, and hardship, and exposure, which wear upon the
patience, endurance and courage of a soldier, and are the most severe
tests of true soldierly qualities. There were many regiments in the
volunteer army during the war that lost but few men in battle, but
returned home with ranks as thin as if they had been decimated in many a
fierce contest.
“They need no praise whose deeds are eulogy,” and the men of the First
Kansas—those gathered here to-day, and those sleeping in their lonely
graves throughout the South—have a monument that will endure forever;
the stately monument of a reunited, free, happy and prosperous country.
This was the glad picture which was imprinted upon their hearts when
they consecrated themselves to the cause of Union and Liberty; this is
the reward they won for themselves and their posterity; this is the
inspiration of the gathering here to-day; this will be the theme of
historians and poets centuries hence; and this will be the pride and
consolation of one and all when you hear the bugle sounding “lights out”
for the last time on earth.