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Old 02-26-2017
Froggy Froggy is offline
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For a moment Fred stood as motionless as a statue, with the revolver raised; then the weapon dropped from his nerveless hand, and with a low moan he plunged forward on his face.

So long did he lie in a swoon that Calhoun thought he was dead, and called to him in the most endearing tones. At last there was a slight quivering of the limbs, then he began to moan; finally he sat up and looked around as one dazed. Seeing Calhoun, he started, passed his hand across his brow as if to collect his thoughts, and said, as if in surprise: "Why, Calhoun——" Then it all came back to him in its terror and awfulness, and he fell back sick and faint. Rallying, he struggled to his feet, tottered to Calhoun, and cut the bonds that bound him.

"Go, go, Cal!" he whispered. "It will not do for us to be found here together."

The two boys clasped hands for a moment, then each turned and went his separate way.

When Fred joined Nelson an hour later the general looked at him sharply, and asked: "What's the matter, Fred? Are you sick? You look ten years older than you did yesterday."

[Pg 291]

"I am not really sick, but I am not feeling well, General," replied Fred; "and I believe, with your permission, I will take an ambulance for the rest of the day."

"Do, Fred, do," kindly replied Nelson, and for the rest of the day Fred rode in an ambulance, where he could be alone with his thoughts.

That evening he asked General Nelson when he expected the division would reach Savannah.

"By the 5th, if possible, on the 6th anyway," answered the general.

"Make it the 5th, General; don't let anything stop you; hurry! hurry!" and thus saying, Fred walked away.

Nelson looked after him and muttered: "I wonder what's the matter with the boy; he hasn't appeared himself to-day; but it may be he will be all right in the morning. I shall take his advice and hurry, anyway."

The next day Nelson urged on his men with a fury that caused the air to be blue with oaths. And it was well that he did, or Shiloh would have never been reached in time to aid the gallant soldiers of Grant.

Buell saw no need of hurrying. He thought it would be a fine thing to concentrate his whole army at Waynesborough and march into Savannah with flying colors, showing Grant what a grand army he had. He telegraphed General Halleck for permission to do so, and the request was readily granted. In some manner it became known to the [Pg 292]Confederate spies that Buell's army was to halt at Waynesborough, and the glad tidings were quickly borne to General Johnston, and when that general marched forth to battle he had no expectation that he would have to meet any of Buell's men.

General Buell hurried forward to stop Nelson at Waynesborough, according to his plan; but to his chagrin he found that Nelson, in his headlong haste, was already beyond Waynesborough, and so the plan of stopping him had to be given up.

When General Nelson's advance was a little beyond Waynesborough, a party engaged in the construction of a telegraph line from Savannah to Nashville was met. A telegram was handed their general, which read:

To the officer commanding Buell's advance:

There is no need of haste; come on by easy stages.

U. S. Grant,
Major-General Commanding.

Nelson read the telegram, and turning to Fred said:

"This is small comfort for all my hurry. I wonder if I have made a fool of myself, after all. Buell will have the joke on me, sure."

"Better be that way than have you needed and not there," answered Fred.

"If we are needed and are not there, Grant can only blame himself," was Nelson's reply.

At noon on April 5th Ammen's brigade, the advance of Nelson's division, marched into Savannah.

Colonel Ammen reported his arrival, and said:

[Pg 293]

"My men are not tired; we can march on to Pittsburg Landing if necessary."

The answer was: "Rest, and make your men comfortable. There will be no battle at Pittsburg Landing. Boats will be sent for you in a day or two."

There was to be a rude awakening on the morrow.
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Old 02-26-2017
Froggy Froggy is offline
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"The sun of Austerlitz" was neither brighter nor more glorious than the sun which arose over the field of Shiloh Sunday morning, April 6, 1862.

Around the little log chapel, wont to echo to the voice of prayer and song of praise, along the hillsides and in the woods, lay encamped the Federal army. The soldiers had lain down the night before without a thought of what this bright, sunny Sabbath would bring forth. A sense of security pervaded the whole army. From commander down to private, there was scarcely a thought of an attack.

"I have scarcely the faintest idea of an attack," wrote Grant to Halleck on April 5th.

On the evening of the same day Sherman wrote to Grant: "I do not apprehend anything like an attack upon our position."

Yet when these words were written the Confederate army was in battle array not much over three miles distant.

But there was one general in the Federal army who was uneasy, he hardly knew why. He was little known at the time, he never held a [Pg 295]distinguished command afterward; yet it was by his vigilance that the Federal army was saved from surprise, perhaps from capture. This general was Prentiss. A vague idea that something was wrong haunted him. The ominous silence in front oppressed him, as something to be feared. Then on Saturday a curious fact occurred. An unusual number of squirrels and rabbits were noticed dodging through the line, and they were all headed in one direction—toward Pittsburg Landing. What had startled them? It set General Prentiss thinking.

To guard more surely against surprise Prentiss posted his pickets a mile and a half in front of his lines, an unusual distance. At three o'clock Sunday morning he sent three companies of the Twenty-fifth Missouri out on a reconnoitering expedition. These three companies followed a road that obliqued to the right, and a little after daylight met the enemy's advance in front of Sherman's division. Thus the battle of Shiloh opened.

When the first shots were fired, Preston Johnston, son of the Confederate commander, looked at his watch, and it was just fourteen minutes past five o'clock.

This little advance band must have made a brave fight, for Major Hardcastle, in command of the Confederate outposts, reports that he fought a thousand men an hour. It was after six o'clock when the general advance of the whole Confederate army commenced, and the pickets along the line of [Pg 296]Prentiss' and Sherman's divisions were driven in. Preston Johnston states that it was seven o'clock when the first cannon shot was fired. It was eight o'clock before the engagement became general along the whole line, and at that time portions of Prentiss' division had been fighting for nearly three hours.

General Grant was at breakfast in Savannah, nine miles away, when he was startled by the booming of cannon in the direction of Shiloh. Hastily writing an order to General Nelson to procure a guide and march his division up the river to a point opposite Pittsburg Landing, Grant left his breakfast half-eaten, and boarding his dispatch boat was soon steaming up the river. His fear was that the isolated division of General Lewis Wallace, which lay at Crump's Landing, had been attacked. Finding this not to be the case when he reached Crump's, he bade Wallace hold his division in readiness and to await orders, and steamed on.

The roar of cannon had become almost continuous. Turning to Rawlins, his chief-of-staff, Grant said:

"Rawlins, I am afraid this is a general attack. I did not expect it. Prentiss' and Sherman's divisions are in front, and both are composed of raw troops; but if we can hold them until Wallace and Nelson come we are all right."

"It is a pity you did not order Wallace up when you were there," answered Rawlins.

"Yes," answered Grant, "but I couldn't make [Pg 297]up my mind it was a general attack. I am not entirely sure yet."

"It sounds very much like it," replied Rawlins, grimly.
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Old 02-26-2017
Froggy Froggy is offline
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When Grant reached the landing the battle was raging furiously, and all doubts as to its being a general attack were removed from his mind. Already the vanguard of what was afterward an army of panic-stricken men had commenced gathering under the river bank.

A staff officer was sent back immediately to order General Wallace to come at once. Grant then set to work quickly to do what he could to stem the tide, which was already turning against him. Two or three regiments which had just landed he ordered to points where they were the most needed. He then rode the entire length of the line, encouraging his generals, telling them to stand firm until Wallace and Nelson came, and all would be well.

He found Sherman engaged in a terrific conflict. Some of his regiments had broken at the first fire, and fled panic-stricken to the Landing. Sherman was straining every nerve to hold his men firm. Oblivious of danger, he rode amid the storm of bullets unmoved, encouraging, pleading, threatening, as the case might be. Grant cautioned him to be careful, and not expose himself unnecessarily, but Sherman answered: "If I can stem the tide by sacrificing my life, I will willingly do it."

[Pg 298]

Then turning to Grant, he said, with feeling: "General, I did not expect this; forgive me."

"Forgive you for what?" asked Grant, in surprise.

"I am your senior general," answered Sherman. "You depended on me for reports; I quieted your fears. I reported there was no danger of an attack. I couldn't believe it this morning until my orderly was shot by my side, and I saw the long lines of the enemy sweeping forward. Forgive me."

Grant was greatly moved. "There is nothing to forgive," he said, gently. "The mistake is mine as well as yours. Neither did I expect this attack. If I had, I could have had Buell here. As it is, Wallace and Nelson will soon be here, and we will whip them; never fear."

"God grant it!" fervently replied Sherman.

By ten o'clock Prentiss had been pushed back clear through and beyond his camp, and had taken position along a sunken road. General W. H. L. Wallace's division came up and joined him on the right. This part of the field was afterward known as the "Hornet's Nest."

Here Grant visited them, and seeing the strength of the position, told them to hold it to the last man.

"We will," responded both Wallace and Prentiss.

Bravely did they keep that promise. For hours the Confederate lines beat against them like the waves of the ocean, only to be flung back torn and bleeding.

[Pg 299]

The roar of battle was now terrific. Both flanks of the Federal army were bent back like a bow. Every moment the number of panic-stricken soldiers under the bank grew larger.

Noon came, but no Lew Wallace, no Nelson. Turning to an aid, Grant said: "Go for Wallace; bid him hurry, hurry."

Everywhere, except in the center, the Confederates were pressing the Union lines back. But the desperate resistance offered surprised Johnston; he had expected an easier victory. Many of his best regiments had been cut to pieces. Thousands of his men had also fled to the rear. The afternoon was passing; the fighting must be pressed.

A desperate effort was made to turn the Federal left flank, and thus gain the Landing. Like iron Hurlbut's men stood, and time after time hurled back the charging columns. At last the Confederates refused to charge again. Then General Johnston placed himself at their head and said: "I will lead you, my children."

The effect was electrical. With wild cheers his men pressed forward; nothing could withstand the fury of the charge. The Federal left was crushed, hurled back to the Landing in a torn, disorganized mass.

But the brave leader fell mortally wounded. For a time the Confederate army stood as if appalled at its great loss. The thunder of battle died away, only to break out here and there in fitful bursts. [Pg 300]But the respite was brief, and then came the final desperate onslaught.

With features as impassive as stone, Grant saw his army crumbling to pieces. Officer after officer had been sent to see what had become of General Lew Wallace; he should have been on the field hours before. With anxious eyes Grant looked across the river to see if he could catch the first fluttering banner of Nelson's division. There was no aid in sight.

An officer rides up, one of the messengers he had sent for Wallace. Grant's face lights up. Wallace must be near. But, no. The officer reports: "Wallace took the wrong road. I found him five miles further from the Landing than when he started. Then he countermarched, instead of hurrying forward left in front. He lost much precious time. Then he is marching so slow, so slow. He will not be here before night."

For an instant a spasm of pain passed over Grant's face. "He countermarched; coming slow," he said, as if to himself, "Great God, what does he mean?" and then all was calm again.

Turning to Colonel Webster, he said: "Plant the siege guns around the Landing. See that you have every available piece of artillery in position."

And it was only this frowning line of artillery that stood between Grant's army and utter rout.

"Have you any way of retreat mapped out?" asked General Buell of Grant. Buell had come up from Savannah on a boat, and was now on the field, [Pg 301]viewing with consternation and alarm the tremendous evidences of demoralization and defeat.

Turning to him as quick as a flash, Grant replied: "Retreat! retreat! I have not yet despaired of victory."
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Old 02-26-2017
Froggy Froggy is offline
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Both the right and left wings of Grant's army were now crushed back from the center. Around the flanks of W. H. L. Wallace's and Prentiss' divisions the exultant Confederates poured. Well had Wallace and Prentiss obeyed the orders of Grant to hold their position. From ten o'clock in the forenoon until nearly five o'clock in the afternoon their lines had hurled back every attack of the enemy. The Hornet's Nest stung every time it was touched. But now the divisions were hemmed in on every side. The brave Wallace formed his men to cut their way out, and as he was cheering them on he fell mortally wounded. No better soldier than Wallace fell on that bloody field. As for the two divisions, they were doomed.

General Grant sits on his horse, watching the preparations for the last stand. An officer, despair written in every lineament of his face, rides up to him.

"General," he says, "Sherman reports that he has taken his last position. He has but the remnant of one brigade with him and what stragglers he has gathered. His slender line cannot withstand another attack."

"Go back," quietly said Grant, "and tell Sherman to hold if possible; night is most here."

[Pg 302]

McClernand's division had been standing bravely all day, and had furnished fewer stragglers than any other division in the army, but now an orderly with a pale face and his left arm resting in a bloody sling, came spurring his reeking horse up to Grant, and exclaimed:

"General McClernand bade me report, that after his division had most gallantly repulsed the last charge of the enemy, for some unaccountable reason, the left regiments broke, and are fleeing panic-stricken to the Landing."

"Go tell McClernand," said Grant, "that he has done well, but he must hold out just a little longer. Wallace will be here shortly."

General Hurlbut, his face black with the smoke of battle, rode up. "General," he said, in a broken voice, "my division is gone, the whole left is gone; the way to the Landing is open to the enemy."

"General," replied Grant, without a quiver, "rally what broken regiments and stragglers you can behind the guns, close up as much as possible on McClernand, and hold your position to the last man."

Now there came roaring past a confused mass of white-faced officers and soldiers commingled, a human torrent stricken with deadly fear.

"All is lost! All is lost!" they cry. "Prentiss and Wallace have surrendered."

Grant's face was seen to twitch. "Oh, for Lew Wallace, for Nelson, or for night," he groaned.

From across the river there came to his ears the [Pg 303]sound of cheering. Grant looked, and there among the trees he saw the banners of Nelson's regiments waving.

Hope came into his eyes; his face lighted up.

"Go, go!" he cried to his aids, "go to Sherman, to McClernand, to Hurlbut. Tell them to hold! hold! hold! Help is near."

But if Grant had known it the danger had already passed; for Beauregard had given orders for his army to cease fighting. Night was coming on, the capture of W. H. L. Wallace's and Prentiss' divisions had disarranged his lines, and thinking that he was sure of his prey in the morning, he had given orders to withdraw.

One brigade of the Confederate army did not receive this order, and when Nelson's advance crossed the river this brigade was charging the line of cannon on the left. These cannon were entirely unprotected by infantry, and Grant himself placed Nelson's men in line as they arrived.

The Confederate brigade was advancing with triumphant shouts, when they were met with a withering volley and sent reeling back. Then, to his surprise, the commander found that of all of the Confederate army his brigade was the only one continuing the fight, and he hastily fell back. The battle for the day was over.

Alone and practically unaided the brave soldiers of the Army of the Tennessee had fought the battle of Sunday and saved themselves from capture. To them belongs the glory.

[Pg 304]

The battle of Monday was mainly the fight of the Army of the Ohio. Without its aid Grant could never have been able to turn defeat into victory, and send the Confederate hosts in headlong flight back to Corinth. There would have been no advance Monday morning if Buell had not been on the field. The whole energy of Grant would have been devoted to the saving of what remained of his army.

The terrible conflict of the day had left its impress on the Army of the Tennessee. There was but a remnant in line capable of battle when night came.

The generals of divisions were so disheartened that the coming of Buell failed to restore their spirits. Even the lion-hearted Sherman wavered and was downcast. Grant found him sitting in the darkness beside a tree, his head buried in his hands, and his heart full of fears. He had fought as generals seldom fight. Three horses had been shot under him, and he had received two wounds. When Grant told him there was to be an advance in the morning, he sadly shook his head and said: "No use, General, no use; the fight is all out of the men. I do not possibly see how we can assume the offensive."

"Look here, Sherman," replied Grant. "Remember how it was at Donelson. If we assume the offensive in the morning a glorious victory awaits us. Lew Wallace is here; Buell will have at least 20,000 fresh troops on the field. The [Pg 305]Confederates, like ourselves, are exhausted and demoralized. If we become the aggressors, success is sure."

Sherman became convinced; his fears were gone, his hopes revived.(i have also read, that, when Grant met with Sherman on the night of the sixth, Grant told Sherman that he would whip the reb on the morrow)

Last edited by Froggy; 03-25-2017 at 01:08 PM.
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Old 02-26-2017
Froggy Froggy is offline
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Why was it that the fiery and impetuous Nelson was so late in getting on the field? He was only nine miles away early in the morning, and had received orders from Grant to move his division opposite Pittsburg Landing. If there had been any roads there would have been no excuse for his delay. But a heavily timbered, swampy bottom lay between him and his destination. The river had been very high, overflowing the whole bottom, and when the water had receded it left a waste of mud, from which all vestige of a road had disappeared. To plunge into that waste of mud and wilderness without a guide would have been madness. A guide, though Grant said one could easily be found, could not be secured. So Nelson sent a staff officer to see if he could find a practicable route. This officer did not return until noon. All of this time the division lay listening to the booming of cannon and eager to be led to the fray. As for Nelson, he fretted and fumed, stormed and swore at the delay.

"The expected has come," he growled, "and here I am doing no more good than if I were a hundred miles away. Might have been on the field, too, if Grant had not kept saying, 'No use hurrying!' I knew they were a set of fools to think that Johnston would sit down at Corinth and suck his thumbs."

[Pg 306]

At length a guide was found who said he could pilot the division through the bottom, but that the route was passable only for horsemen and infantry; the artillery would have to be left behind. The division started at one o'clock, the men keeping step to the music of the thunder of cannon.

"This beats Donelson," remarked Fred, as the roar of artillery never ceased.

"My boy," replied Nelson, "the greatest battle ever fought on this continent is now being waged. God grant that we may get there in time. It was rumored at Savannah that the Confederates were sweeping everything before them."

"Your division will surely give a good account of itself," said Fred, looking back, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "See how eager the men are, and how well they keep closed up, notwithstanding the mud. Half of them are mourning because they think the battle will be over before they get there."

"No danger of that," replied Nelson. "The question is, shall we be in time."

Soon the roll of musketry began to be heard; then the cheers of the combatants. A quiver of excitement ran along the lines, and every soldier grasped his musket with a firmer hold. As they approached the river cannon balls began to crash through the treetops above them; then was heard the peculiar whir of the minie ball when it is nearly spent—so close was the fighting to the river.

To Fred's surprise, he saw numerous skulkers [Pg 307]dodging through the timber on the same side of the river as himself. In some manner they had managed to get across the river; not only this, but the boats which came to ferry Nelson's troops over were more or less crowded with these skulkers, who would have died rather than be driven off. In the river were seen men on logs making their way across, and some of these men wore shoulder straps.

So incensed were Nelson's soldiers at the sight of such cowardice that they begged for permission to shoot them.

As they landed, Fred stood aghast at the sight before him. Cowering beneath the high bank were thousands upon thousands of trembling wretches. It was a dense mass of shivering, weeping, wailing, swearing, praying humanity, each one lost to shame, lost to honor, lost to everything but that dreadful fear which chained him soul and body.

As Nelson's advance brigade forced its way through the panic-stricken throng, they were greeted with, "You are all going to your death! You are all going to your death!"

"Back! back!" roared Nelson, purple with rage. "Don't touch my men; you contaminate them; don't speak to them, you cowards, miscreants, you should be swept from the face of the earth."

And in the fury of his wrath, Nelson begged for the privilege of turning cannon on them.

With firm, unwavering steps, and well closed up, the division pressed their way up the bank, [Pg 308]and there were soldiers in the ranks who looked with contempt on the shivering wretches below the hill, who themselves, the next day, fled in terror from the awful destruction going on around them. So little do we know ourselves and what we will do when the supreme moment comes.

Afterward the great majority of the soldiers who cowered under the bank at Shiloh covered themselves with glory, and hundreds of them laid down their lives for their country.

Fred always remembered that night on the battlefield. From the Landing came the groans and shrieks of the wounded, tortured under the knives of the surgeons. The night was as dark and cloudy as the day had been bright and clear. About eleven o'clock a torrent of rain fell, drenching the living, and cooling the fevered brows of the wounded. Fred sat against a tree, holding the bridle of his horse in his hand. If by chance he fell asleep, he would be awakened by the great cannon of the gunboats, which threw shells far inland every fifteen minutes.

At the first dawn of day Nelson's division advanced, and the battle began. Fred acted as aid to Nelson, and as the general watched him as he rode amid the storm of bullets unmoved he would say to those around him: "Just see that boy; there is the making of a hero."

About eleven o'clock one of Nelson's brigades made a most gallant charge. Wheeling to the right, the brigade swept the Confederate line for [Pg 309]more than half a mile. Before them the enemy fled, a panic-stricken mob. A battery was run over as though the guns were blocks of wood, instead of iron-throated monsters vomiting forth fire and death. In the thickest of the fight, Fred noticed Robert Marsden, the betrothed of Mabel Vaughn, cheering on his men.

"Ah!" thought Fred, "he is worthy of Mabel. May his life be spared to make her happy."

On, on swept the brigade; a second battery was reached, and over one of the guns he saw Marsden fighting like a tiger. Then the smoke of battle hid him from view.

On the left Fred saw a mere boy spring from out an Indiana regiment, shoot down a Confederate color-bearer, snatch the colors from his dying grasp, wave them defiantly in the face of the enemy, and then coolly walk back to his place in the ranks.

General Nelson saw the act, and turning to Fred, said: "I want you to hunt that boy up, and bring him to me after the battle."

But the brigade paid dearly for its daring charge. A strong line, lying down, let the frightened fugitives pass over them; then they arose and poured a deadly volley into the very faces of the charging column. Cannon in front and on the flank tore great gaps through the line. The brigade halted, wavered, and then fled wildly back, leaving a third of its number dead and wounded.

By three o'clock the battle was over; the [Pg 310]Confederates were in full retreat, and the bloody field of Shiloh won.

As the firing died away, Fred sat on his horse and shudderingly surveyed the field. The muddy ground was trampled as by the feet of giants. The forest was shattered as by ten thousand thunderbolts, while whole thickets had been leveled, as though a huge jagged scythe had swept over them.

By tree and log, in every thicket, on every hillside, dotting every field, lay the dead and wounded. Many of the dead were crushed out of all semblance of humanity, trampled beneath the hoof of the warhorse or ground beneath the ponderous wheels of the artillery. Over 20,000 men lay dead and wounded, Confederate and Federal commingled.

But Grant's army was saved. The fondest hopes of the Confederates had been blasted; instead of marching triumphantly forward to Nashville, as they hoped, they retreated sullenly back to Corinth.

But the battle brought the war to the hearts of the people as it had never been brought before. From the stricken homes of the North and the South there arose a great wail of agony—a weeping for those who would not return.
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Old 03-31-2017
Froggy Froggy is offline
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"Dreading retreat, dreading advance to make,
Round we revolve, like to the wounded snake."
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Old 10-07-2018
Froggy Froggy is offline
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"Now do you see those men up there with the wagon, they are headed down the road to patch up the rough spots in it, and your going with them". The soldier pointed to an open wagon with high planked sides, there were shovel handels visible in it along with an upturned wheelbarrow some canvas and about 8 or ten negros gathered round and on it. It had a tall dark mare for an engine.
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Old 10-07-2018
Froggy Froggy is offline
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Now do you see those men up there with the wagon, they are headed down the road to patch up the rough spots in it, and your going with them". The soldier pointed to an open wagon with high planked sides, there were shovel handels visible in it along with an upturned wheelbarrow some canvas and about 8 or ten negros gathered round and on it. It had a tall dark mare for an engine.
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Old 11-23-2018
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The trouble with being a Superman, with Super powers, and knowing it, is it's so easy to overlook the unpleasant possibility of a super-superman!

Illustrated by van Dongen

... The career of The Leader remains one of the mysteries of history. This man, illegitimate and uneducated, hysterical and superstitious, gathered about him a crowded following of those who had been discontented, but whom he turned into fanatics. Apparently by pure force of personality he seized without resistance the government of one of the world's great nations. So much is unlikely enough. But as the ruler of a civilized country he imposed upon its people the absolute despotism of a primitive sultanate. He honeycombed its society with spies. He imprisoned, tortured, and executed without trial or check. And while all this went on he received the most impassioned loyalty of his subjects! Morality was abandoned at his command with as much alacrity as common sense. He himself was subject to the grossest superstitions. He listened to astrologers and fortunetellers—and executed them when they foretold disaster. But it is not enough to be amazed at the man himself. The great mystery is that people of the Twentieth Century, trained in science and technically advanced, should join in this orgy of what seems mere madness ...

Concise History of Europe. Blaisdell.

Letter from Professor Albrecht Aigen, University of Brunn, to the Herr General Johann von Steppberg, retired.

My dear General von Steppberg:

It is with reluctance that I intrude upon your retirement, but at the request of the Government I have undertaken a scientific examination of the causes which brought about The Leader's rise to power, the extraordinary popularity of his regime, the impassioned loyalty he was able to evoke, and the astounding final developments.

If you can communicate to me any memories of The Leader which may aid in understanding this most bewildering period of our history, I assure you that it will be appreciated by myself, by the authorities who wish the investigation made, and I dare to hope by posterity.

I am, my dear general, (Et cetera.)

Letter from General Johann von Steppberg (Retired) to Professor Albrecht Aigen, University of Brunn.

Herr Professor:

The official yearbooks of the army contain the record of my military career. I have nothing to add to that information. You say the authorities wish more. I refuse it. If they threaten my pension, I will renounce it. If they propose other pressures, I will leave the country. In short, I refuse to discuss in any manner the subject of your recent communication.

I am, Herr Professor, (Et cetera.)

Letter from Professor Albrecht Aigen to Dr. Karl Thurn, Professor of Psychology at University of Laibach.

My dear Karl:

I hope your psionic research goes better than my official project! My business goes nowhere! I have written to generals, ministers, and all kinds of persons who held high office under The Leader. Each and every one refuses to discuss The Leader or his own experiences under him. Why? Surely no one would blame them now! We have had to agree to pretend that no one did anything improper under The Leader, or else that what anyone did was proper at the time. So why should the nabobs of that incredible period refuse to discuss what they should know better than anyone else? I am almost reduced to asking the aid of the astrologers and soothsayers The Leader listened to. Actually, I must make a note to do so in sober earnest. At least they had their own viewpoint of events.

Speaking of viewpoints, I have had some hope of clarifying The Leader's career by comparing it with that of Prime Minister Winston, in power in his country when The Leader ruled ours. His career is splendidly documented. There is astonishingly little documentation about The Leader as a person, however. That is one of the difficulties of my task. Even worse, those who should know him best lock their lips while those—

Here is an unsolicited letter from the janitor of a building in which a former Minister of Education now has his law offices. I have many letters equally preposterous....

Enclosure in letter to Dr. Karl Thurn, University of Laibach.

Herr Professor:

I am the janitor of the building in which Herr Former Minister of Education Werfen has his offices. In cleaning there I saw a letter crumpled into a ball and thrown into a corner. I learned in the time of The Leader that angry actions often mean evil intentions, so I read the letter to see if the police should be notified. It was a letter from you in which you asked Herr Former Minister of Education Werfen for his memories of The Leader.

I remember The Leader, Herr Professor. He was the most holy man who ever lived, if indeed he was only a man. Once I passed the open door of an office in the building I then worked in. I looked in the door—it was the office of the then-struggling Party The Leader had founded—and I saw The Leader sitting in a chair, thinking. There was golden light about his head, Herr Professor. I have told this to other people and they do not believe me. There were shadowy other beings in the room. I saw, very faintly, great white wings. But the other beings were still because The Leader was thinking and did not wish to be disturbed. I assure you that this is true, Herr Professor. The Leader was the holiest of men—if he was only a man.
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Old 11-23-2018
EVERS EVERS is offline
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Join Date: Dec 2013
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Letter from Colonel Sigmund Knoeller, retired, to Professor Albrecht Aigen, Brunn University.

Herr Professor:

In response to your authorized request for information about certain events; I have the honor to inform you that at the time you mention I was Major in command of the Second Battalion of the 161st Infantry Regiment, assigned to guard duty about the residence of The Leader. Actual guard duty was performed by the secret police. My battalion merely provided sentries around the perimeter of the residence, and at certain places within.

On August 19th I received a command to march three companies of my men into the residence, to receive orders from The Leader in person. This command was issued by the Herr General Breyer, attached to The Leader as a military aide.

I led my men inside according to the orders, guided by the orderly who had brought them. I entered an inner courtyard. There was disturbance. People moved about in a disorderly fashion and chattered agitatedly. This was astonishing in The Leader's residence. I marched up to General Breyer, who stood outside a group biting his nails. I saluted and said: "Major Knoeller reporting for orders, Herr General."

There was then confusion in the nearby squabbling group. A man burst out of it and waved his arms at me. He looked like The Leader. He cried shrilly:

"Arrest these men! All of them! Then shoot them!"

I looked at the Herr General Breyer. He bit his nails. The man who looked so much like The Leader foamed at the mouth. But he was not The Leader. That is, in every respect he resembled The Leader to whom I owed loyalty as did everyone. But no one who was ever in The Leader's presence failed to know it. There was a feeling. One knew to the inmost part of one's soul that he was The Leader who must be reverenced and obeyed. But one did not feel that way about this man, though he resembled The Leader so strongly.

"Arrest them!" shrilled the man ferociously. "I command it! I am The Leader! Shoot them!"

When I still waited for General Breyer to give me orders, the man shrieked at the troopers. He commanded them to kill General Breyer and all the rest, including me. And if he had been The Leader they would have obeyed. But he was not. So my men stood stiffly at attention, waiting for my orders or General Breyer's.

There was now complete silence in the courtyard. The formerly squabbling men watched as if astonished. As if they did not believe their eyes. But I waited for General Breyer to give his commands.

The man screamed in a terrible, frustrated rage. He waved his arms wildly. He foamed at the mouth and shrieked at me. I waited for orders from General Breyer. After a long time he ceased to bite his nails and said in a strange voice:

"You had better have this man placed in confinement, Major Knoeller. See that he is not injured. Double all guards and mount machine guns in case of rioting outside. Dismiss!"

I obeyed my commands. My men took the struggling, still-shrieking man and put him in a cell in the guardhouse. There was a drunken private there, awaiting court-martial. He was roused and annoyed when his new companion shrieked and screamed and shook the bars of the door. He kicked the man who looked so much like The Leader. I then had the civilian placed in a separate cell, but he continued to rave incoherently until I had the regimental surgeon give him an injection to quiet him. He sank into drugged sleep with foam about his lips.

He looked remarkably like The Leader. I have never seen such a resemblance! But he was not The Leader or we would have known him.

There was no disturbance outside the residence. The doubled guards and the mounted machine guns were not needed.

I am, Herr Professor, (Et cetera
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