remnants, each ghastly wound telling its own story of personal
bravery. The fiery sons of South Carolina, unsubdued by the perils
they had passed, unmindful of their gaping wounds, as ready then to do
and dare as when they threw down the gauntlet of defiance and stood
ready to defend the sovereignty of their State. The men who followed
where the gallant Forrest led, "looking the warrior in love with his
work." The devoted patriots who charged with Breckenridge. The tall,
soldierly Tennesseeans, of whom their commander said, when asked if he
could take and hold a position of transcendent danger, "Give me my
Tennesseeans, and _I'll take and hold anything_;" the determined,
ever-ready Texans, who, under the immortal Terry, so distinguished
themselves, and under other leaders in every battle of the war won
undying laurels; North Carolinians, of whose courage in battle I
needed no better proof than the pluck they invariably showed under the
torture of fevered wounds or of the surgeon's knife; exiled
Kentuckians, Arkansians, Georgians, Louisianians, Missourians,
Marylanders, sternly resentful, and impatient of the wounds that kept
them from the battle-field, because ever hoping to strike some blow
that should sever a link in the chains which bound the homes they so
loved; Alabamians, the number of whose regiments, as well as _their
frequent consolidation_, spoke volumes for their splendid service;
Georgians, who, having fought with desperate valor, now lay suffering
and dying within the confines of their own State, yet unable to reach
the loved ones who, unknowing what their fate might be, awaited with
trembling hearts accounts of the battle, so slow in reaching them;
Mississippians, of whom I have often heard it said, "their fighting
and _staying qualities_ were _magnificent_," I then knew hundreds of
instances of individual valor, of which my remembrance is now so dim
that I dare not give names or dates. I am proud, however, to record
the names of four soldiers belonging to the Seventeenth Mississippi
Regiment: J. Wm. Flynn,[1] then a mere lad, but whose record will
compare with the brightest; Samuel Frank, quartermaster; Maurice
Bernhiem, quartermaster-sergeant, and Auerbach, the drummer of the
regiment. I was proudly told by a member of Company G, Seventeenth
Mississippi, that Sam Prank, although excelling in every duty of his
position, was exceeding brave, often earnestly asking permission to
lead the skirmishers, and wou