The Great Escape

So once again, we meet up with Mr. Strong of the 105th Ill. I know we've visited him several times already, but being as it's the book I'm currently reading, and there are many good stories, so here we go.

He had been out on a foraging expedition and had stopped to butcher a hog he had seen out in a field. Meanwhile, his pards had moved on and left him behind, unbeknown to Mr. Strong. Suddenly a reb cavalry patrol (not Calvary, if you don't know the difference, pick up a bible) happens upon him, and a running, shooting chase is on!

"While pounding along, I happened to think that some of the n.....s (changed so as not to offend African Americans) around camp had said that my mare was a trained fox hunter. If she was, she was of course trained to jump. I determined to try her. I was going down a rail-fenced road. If I could get off of it a sudden, I could turn and shake off the Rebs.

I had no time to dismount and throw the top rail off the fence, for the Rebs were right behind me, shooting and yelping. It was sport to them, but not to me...in my case capture spelled certain death because I was foraging. Suddenly on my right, a gun went off and a bullet whizzed by me. It meant more Rebs coming from that way.

I galloped a little farther, slowed up a little, straightened up in the saddle, and lifted on the bit, heading for the fence. That little mare jumped the fence as easy as I could a rail. Then I took off my hat, waved it at the Rebs, and rode off into the woods.

They fired at me, threw down the fence and came after me. Pretty soon I struck a sort of trail...I took it with the Rebs still after me, some shooting, some shouting, 'Surrender!' and one sport yelling, 'Go it Yank!' You may be sure I took his advice and went it."

Mr. Strong continues on the way towards his column of comrades, but his mare was beginning to breathe pretty hard having run several miles.

"Then I came to a creek that had a burned bridge across it...So I slipped the bridle rein over the mare's head and coaxed her into the water. She did not want to go in. The Rebs were getting nearer all the time. I was just on the point of turning her loose and running for it when she jumped in and swam across. I mounted on the other shore and rode on. Soon I overtook the boys and was safe.

I remember how I petted that mare and how I wished I could send her north. Later on-oh, sad story-I lost her, not to the Rebs but to General Judson Kilpatrick's cavalry. They seized all our Bummers' horses for cavalry remounts. I could have fought them."

That last paragraph is great, because I have read in many accounts before of the infantryman's disdain for the cavalryman. Often they speak of the cavalry as being scared of a fight unless emboldened by the prospect of a column of infantry behind them! Also, many men speak of their favorite mounts during the war, almost as fellow soldiers and friends. If you are interested in more human/horse stories, I suggest looking up "Old Baldy", "Traveller", or "Little Sorrel" just to name a few. Several are actually stuffed and in museums across the country today!

Have a happy weekend, I'm working the whole thing. Woo hoo!