try,) each had some men and boys from our part of the
county.

Up in the northwest corner of Jersey County and close to the Greene
county line lived an old farmer by the name of John H. Reddish. He, too,
had served in the Black Hawk War, and under the command of Col. Fry. The
highest position he attained in that scrap, as shown by the records, was
that of corporal, but, regardless of his rank, it is entirely safe to
say that he was a fighter. As soon as it was announced that Col. Fry was
raising a regiment, and was to be its colonel, Uncle John Reddish
forthwith took the field to recruit a company for this organization. The
fact that he had been a Black Hawk war soldier gave him immense
prestige, and settled in his favor the question of his military
qualifications without further evidence. The truth is that at that time
almost any man of good repute and fair intelligence, who had seen
service in this Black Hawk racket, or the Mexican war, was regarded as
fit and desirable for a commissioned officer, or, at the least, pretty
high up in the non-commissioned line. But, as it afterwards turned out,
that was an erroneous notion. There were exceptions, of course, but in
any event, as regards the Black Hawk episode, service during it was of
no practical benefit whatever to a man who became thereby an officer in
the Civil war. Capt. Reddish was kind hearted, and as brave an old
fellow as a reckless and indiscriminating bull dog, but, aside from his
personal courage, he had no military qualities whatever, and failed to
acquire any during his entire service. He never could learn the drill,
except the most simple company movements. He was also very illiterate,
and could barely write his name. And his commands on drill were
generally laughable. For instance, in giving the command of right or
left wheel, he would supplement it by saying, "Swing around, boys, just
like a gate." Such directions would mortify us exceedingly, and caused
the men of the other companies to laugh at and twit us about our
Captain. He would have made a first-class duty sergeant, and that was as
high a rank as he was capable of properly filling. But he was a good old
man, and furiously patriotic. He loved a fighter and abominated a
coward, and, on the whole, his men couldn't help but like him. Capt.
Reddish selected for his first, or orderly sergeant, as the position was
generally designated, Enoch W. Wallace, of my neighborhood. Enoch, as we
usually called hi