"
That is picturesque, is it not? It is amusing, too--though so tragic.
You can see that "poor scratch of a force" fighting to the death, can
you not? You can see the poor little handful attacked by Sheridan's
crack cavalry corps in front, and then suddenly by Warren's superb
infantry corps in both their flank and rear. You can see them, game to
the last, throwing back their left in the crochet to meet Warren; see
that good soldier cheering on his men "greatly elated," but "somewhat
disorganized," too--so much so that they suddenly halt, and require the
"personal magnetism" of the general to inspire them, and bring them up
to the work. Then the little scratch gives way--they are a handful, and
two corps are pressing them. They have "continued the combat with
unyielding mettle," as long as they could--now they are driven; and on
rushes the thundering cavaliers to destroy them! Sound the bugles! Out
with sabres! charge! ride over them! "Hurra!" So'the little scratch
disappears.
General Warren, who won that fight, was a brave man, and did not boast
of it. Tell me, general--you are honest--is any laurel in your hardwon
wreath, labelled "Five Forks?" It would be insulting that other laurel
labelled "Gettysburg," where you saved Meade!
In that bitter and desperate fight, Corse's infantry brigade and Lee's
cavalry won a renown which can never be taken from them.
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