He was telling
of a charge in some battle or skirmish in which, he declared, his company,
not himself -- for I remember he said he was "No. 4", and was generally
told off to hold the horses; and that that day he had had the ill luck
to lose his horse and get a little scratch himself, so he was not
in the charge -- did the finest work he ever saw, and really (so he claimed)
saved the day. It was this self-abnegation that first arrested my attention,
for I had been accustomed all my life to hear the war talked of;
it was one of the inspiring influences in my humdrum existence.
But the speakers, although they generally boasted of their commands,
never of themselves individually, usually admitted that they themselves
had been in the active force, and thus tacitly shared in the credit.
"No. 4", however, expressly disclaimed that he was entitled
to any of the praise, declaring that he was safe behind the crest of the hill
(which he said he "hugged mighty close"), and claimed the glory
for the rest of the command.
"It happened just as I have told you here," he said, in closing.
"Old Joe saw the point as soon as the battery went to work,
and sent Binford Terrell to the colonel to ask him to let him go over there
and take it; and when Joe gave the word the boys went.
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