LETTER XCIII.
TEEMING WITH CONSUMMATE STRATEGY, AND RELATING AN EXTRAORDINARY GEOMETRICAL EFFORT OF MILITARY GENIUS.
WASHINGTON, D.C., May 10th, 1863.
As it was feared on Sunday last, my boy, that the venerable MackerelBrigade was about to commit a breach of the peace by strategicallyassaulting the Confederacies established in the mud between theMackerel camp and the ancient City of Paris, I mounted my architecturalsteed, the Gothic Pegasus, at an early hour in the morning, andperceptibly moved toward the scene of approaching tautology. Theemaciated aspect of my architectural steed of the desert was soinviting to the fowls of the air, my boy, that divers disreputablecrows circled suddenly around my hat, as my animal progressed with meby miscellaneously scattering his legs around beneath himself, and ateach particular "caw" of the winged ministers of famine, a perceptibleshudder passed through the entire framework of the deeply agitatedPegasus. Abstractedly waving my umbrella, to inspire the sable birdsfor loftier flights, I pondered deeply upon the lesson taught me by theevident emotions of my aged architectural servant; to ride upon whosefluted back may be likened to sitting astride the peaked roof of asmall country chapel in the midst of a hard earthquake, and holding onby the steeple. If this Gothic creation, which is but a horse, thoughtI, is so agonized by the mere breakfast notes of a few demoralizedcrows in the atmosphere, how much more terrible must be the anguish ofthe fellow-beings known as Southern Confederacies, who must ever have adreadful presentiment of being summarily expunged from the human raceby any one of our brass-buttoned generals, who happens to board intheir neighborhood for a few years. If I pity this architecturalservant of mine, thought I, for his anguish at the proximity of crowsin the abstract, how much more tender should be my feeling for Southernfellow-beings, who are continually endangered by the much louder crowsemanating from adjacent hostile Major-General roosters. As I ponderedthus, my boy, a crow of much plumage and large-sized mien, suddenlyalighted upon the pommel of my saddle, as though impatient to breakfastupon some pounds of horseflesh. For an instant Pegasus trembledthroughout his works; he paused suddenly in his peregrination, laidback his ears as though in deep thought, twisted his head suddenlyabout, and bit off the tail of the crow in the abstract!
Simple as was the act, it at once relieved me, in my own mind, of allobligations to have a more tender feeling for my Southern fellow-beingsthan is consistent with a proper emotion of hatred against the enemiesof my country. After all, we can learn much more from brutes than frommen; and as Balaam's ass saw the angel before his master did, so theAngel of Victory is likely to be distinctly obvious to any poor ass inthe country, before he becomes visible to the sight of our strategicgreat men.
(I turn a pretty sharp corner in that last sentence, my boy; but thatis only safe strategy when you find your argument getting ahead ofyou.)
It was high noon when I reached the Mackerel camp, and I found thespectacled veterans hastily preparing to cross Duck Lake after themanner of aquatic warriors. By some strange fatality, all the pontoonswere at hand in time, greatly to the distress of our more venerabletroops, who seemed to fear that such unheard-of punctuality must be anevil omen. As there were a great many pontoons, and it was not deemedbest to waste any of them, two bridges were built instead of one,--itbeing considered that, inasmuch as it was purposed to surprise theunseemly Confederacies on the other side, two bridges would be justtwice as surprising to them as one would be. There was logic in thisidea, my boy--much logic and consummate strategy.
Gazing across the expanse of waters, I beheld a couple of regiments ofConfederacies playing poker on the bank, and says I to Villiam Brown,who was at that moment returning a small black bottle to his holster:
"Tell me, my fearless blue-back, how this can possibly be a surprise,when yonder gray-backs are looking on all the time?"
"Ah!" says Villiam, with much loftiness of demeanor; "you are but anignorant civilian inseck, and know nothing about war. The movement,"says Villiam, placidly, "is intended as a surprise to the enemy, uponthe principle that any movement whatever of this Army must surpriseeverybody."
I was reflecting seriously upon this unanswerable explanation ofprofound strategy, my boy, when Captain Bob Shorty came rattling upwith a paper in his hand, and says he: "Attention, Company! while Iread a document calculated to restrain the licentiousness of a corruptand vicious press:
"GENERAL ORDER.
"For the purpose of preventing the transmission of all news not previously published in the morning journals of the so-called Southern Confederacy, it has been determined by the General Commanding to require all correspondents of the press to affix their full names, ages, and addresses to whatever matter they transmit for publication, thus giving to the journals of our time the double character of newspaper and business-directory. Reporters having vulgar names, like Jones, Smith, or Stiggins, will be at liberty to assume the names borne by the most popular characters in the exciting tales furnished by our weekly journals of romance,--such as Lord Mortimer, Claude de Percy, Lester Heartsease.
"Correspondents who do not comply with this requirement will not be permitted to assist in surprising the so-called Southern Confederacy.
"THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE."
(Blue Seal.)
After we had all duly digested this useful and sagacious General Order,my boy, Captain Samyule Sa-mith was ordered to make a detour of DuckLake with the Anatomical Cavalry, and dig a canal in the rear of thewell-known Confederacy; and the Mackerel Brigade, under the personalsupervision of the Grim Old Fighting Cox, commenced to cross thepontoon-bridges in two divisions. The bridge that I was upon, my boy,was at once attacked at the other end by a surprised Confederacy with alarge pair of scissors, who malignantly cut that end loose. There wasan aged civilian chap, from Albany, of much stomach and a broad-brimmedhat, standing near me; and when he found the bridge beginning to move,he smote his breast, and says he:
"Where are we drifting to?"
"Be not alarmed, Mr. Weed," says I, pleasantly; "we shall soon repairthe damage."
"Hem!" says he, "I wish I'd gone over on the other platform at first."
He was quite an old man, my boy, slowly sinking into the rising wavesof his own fat; and for that reason appeared to have a chronic fear ofsome unexpected submersion.
The Mackerel Brigade, in two parts, having reached the opposite shoreof Duck Lake in safety, the Grim Old Fighting Cox ordered CaptainVilliam Brown and Captain Bob Shorty to take each a regiment ofspectacled veterans and cautiously feel the Confederacies' lines, whilehe led the remainder of the national troops to a small village at hand,which had particularly requested to be immediately destroyed. It washis great strategical plan, my boy, to form his lines in the shape of atriangle, thus inclosing the unmannerly Confederacies between threefires, and winning a great geometrical victory. The Confederacies beingduly surrounded, and the village being set on fire at the apex of thetriangle, the Grim Old Fighting Cox withdrew to a tent, spread a map ofthe world upon a camp-stool before him, and proceeded to taketopographical observations. Drawing from his saddle-bags an instrumentof opaque glass, of tubular character, quite large in circumferenceabout half-way up, and then tapering into a neck, or smaller tube, ofnearly the same length, he raised it in a semi-horizontal position to apoint about one and a half inches above the lower circumference of hischin, until he could look through it at an angle bisecting its greatercircumference upon the map below. The light, striking through the bodyof this instrument, cast a wavy, fluctuating sort of yellowish glareupon that part of the map representing the well-known SouthernConfederacy, accompanied by a species of soft, trickling sound. Afteran interval of some ten minutes, the operator saw, by this contrivance,just double the number of Confederacies he had to contend with. It onlyremained, then, for him to divide the number thus ascertained by two,and he knew exactly the number of his foes!
You will observe, my boy, that this singularly ingeni
ous device at oncerevealed to the new General of the Mackerel Brigade the true strengthof his greatest enemy, and inspired him with a strong spirit.
It was immediately after this, that the Grim Old Fighting Cox issuedthe following
"GENERAL ORDER.
"The manner in which the crossing of Duck Lake has been accomplished proves that this is the finest Army ever seen on the plan-it, and is likely to prove equally fine on the do-it. I have now got the well-known Southern Confederacy where I wished to have her, and she must either ignominiously retreat, or come out of her works, and be annihilated by me on my own ground, which is ground-arms!
"(Blue Seal.)
"THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE."
Having let fly this General Order, my boy, the Grim Old Fighting Coxproceeded to complete his surprise of the enemy by leading a bayonetcharge from his side of the triangle, and immediately telegraphed tothe base of the triangle that the enemies of human freedom wereretreating before him. This was truly the case; for the unseemlyConfederacies not only retreated before him, but retreated with suchimpetus of flight upon Captain Villiam Brown at the base of thetriangle, that they actually drove him clear out of his place, andproceeded to occupy the base themselves. Thus matters stood at theconclusion of the first day.
Early on the second day, the Grim Old Fighting Cox charged again uponsome fresh regiments of Confederacies, who retreated with such violencethat they completely pressed Captain Bob Shorty from the right line ofthe triangle, and remained in that line themselves. This was thesecond day's battle.
On the following morning, it was discovered that fresh Confederacieshad come up from Paris. These were attacked irresistibly by the wholeMackerel Brigade, and only succeeded in making a stand when theyformed, as it were, the left line of the triangle.
You will perceive, my boy, that a great piece of geometrical strategyhad been thus achieved; but it now turned out that the General of theMackerel Brigade had made a mistake, and a most serious one. Whiletaking his observations with his ingenious glass instrument, he hadseen just double the number of triangles (2) that might be formed bycertain great strategical evolutions, as he had seen just double thenumber of the Confederacies; but, in his haste, he had neglected todivide the ascertained number of triangles by two, as he should havedone; and now he discovered that only one triangle was formed, and thatby the unseemly and chuckling Confederacies. Such a nice thing isstrategy, and so easily is it deranged!
Owing to this error, of course nothing more could be done, and onTuesday evening the Mackerel Brigade returned, full of enthusiasm, totheir original side of Duck Lake. The affair had been merely areconnoissance.
Last evening, at dusk, I was talking to the Mackerel Chaplain aboutthis singular strategical affair, and says he:
"God help us! The skeleton regiments we have left standing are scarcelymore than the skeleton regiments we have left sleeping; and only thesleeping ones can look upward."
Let gentle charity, my boy, silence our tongues to the dread mistakethat is past; for he who made it lost by it the glorious immortalityhis meanest soldier slain has won.
Yours, gently,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.