His Truth is Marching On

                                                     His Truth Is Marching On

                                                           Suzanne Marsh

San Antonio, Texas 1915

           The small white haired wizened faced man sat rocking on his white washed front porch. He was watching for his son, his wife and two boys. He was a retired Major General, his name was John Clem. He had been waiting to see them since early morning. He had finally decided it was time to tell his son and grandsons about his adventures as a ten year old drummer boy during the Civil War. He had never felt the need to disclose the nickname that he carried all these years; "Johnny Shiloh". It was a time of strong patriotism, and a time when brother fought against brother, father against son. He remembered it all. He dug out his blue uniform, but also a tattered gray one. When he held the tattered gray uniform, he felt the tears stream down his weathered cheeks. He carried the uniforms down stairs. 

           Shortly after his doorbell rang, there stood his son John Clem Jr. and his two grandsons, Matt and Lucas. He looked at the three of them, yes it was time he thought to tell them the stories of his days as a Union Drummer Boy.

           "Come on, boys, I want to sit outside in my rocking chair."  He went back outside, seated himself in the rocking chair. His son sat on the other chair, as his grandsons sat on the steps. He rocked for several minutes before he began:

                "I reckon the three of you are pondering why I would want to talk to you all together.

            I ain't gittin any younger; so I reckon the three of you need to know about me.  I ain't

            good at story tellin but I think it is time I told my story."

He cleared his throat as he looked off onto the horizon:

           "I was ten years old when our Civil War began. I tried to enlist with the Third Ohio. They

            wouldn't take me because I was a small ten year old boy then. Pop would not allow me to

            go, but I had other ideas in my mind. I wanted to serve in Mr. Lincoln's Army. Mr.

            Lincoln was a man I held in very high regard just as I did Pop. I drilled every day

           with the Third Ohio, I left school so I could. Pop, was really mad about that but I

           was a very determined boy. When the Third was called up they wouldn't take me

           as a drummer boy, I was underage and small for my ten years, hell I ain't much taller

           now. I was determined to join a regiment and fight. The Twenty Second Michigan came

           marching through Newark, Ohio. I pleaded my case, and I was inducted into the Union

           Army. Pop, was mad but knew there was nothin he could do. I learned to be a soldier as

           we marched and counter marched in our camp. I learned to use a bayonet and fire a

           musket. One of the men cut down a musket to make it easier for me to handle. My original

           musket was bigger than I was!"

      Battle of Shiloh 1862

                   "It was a beautiful spring; several of the boys went into the old Dunker Church to pray       before the battle, I went too. We were praying when mortar shells began to pour into our      camp...the Rebs was leavin a callin card. We ran back to our unit. The motor shells rained

           down on us. I ain't feared to admit I was scarit. I grabbed my drum, I began the long roll

           as I was taught to do. I stood stock still, drummin away. A fragment from a shell crashed

           through my drum, damnedest thing you ever did see. It knocked me out fer a few minutes.        

           When I come to most of the boys were gone. I continued the long drum roll until I

           fell asleep on my feet. I guess someone took me and a drum back to my unit. It twer that

            battle that earned me the name Johnny Shiloh."

His son and grandsons stared, they were having a hard time equating this wizened faced old man with Johnny Shiloh. The three of them had studied about the Battle of Shiloh, reading about the drummer boy with a great deal of courage. Never realizing it was their Father and Grandfather.

           "Grandpa, you are Johnny Shiloh, we just studied about you this week."

           "Pop, why didn't you tell me this years ago?"

           "I didn't think it was time son, but now that I have retired from the Army I thought it

            was time."

           "Pop, is that when you shot and killed that Reb Officer?"

           "No, Chickamauga, Georgia; I was promoted to Corporal.

Chickamauga Battle 1863

               "The Battle of Chickamauga was a bad time. Georgia was a far piece from Newark, Ohio.

           I can still see the battlefield in my mind. It was September, the leaves was changin color.

           I was homesick but I was also regular Army I carried a drum and a gun. I sounded the long

           drum roll. Our unit formed up. We marched toward Horseshoe Ridge. I was separated

           from my unit. I was scarit; I had no idea where I was. I put my drum down, muskets

           began to fire, I had three bullet holes in my kepi when the day was done. I was still

           lookin fer my unit when some Confederate Colonel yelled at me: "stop you little Yankee

           devil." I wasn't gonna stop; I kept runnin, he rode after me. I turned a fired my musket.

           Shot and killed him. He fell from his horse. I finally located the twenty second Michigan.

           I was also known as the Drummer Boy of Chickamauga after that. I was promoted to

           Sergeant. I was also captured by Reb Calvary while in Georgia. Calvary under

           'Fightin Joe Wheeler' that really scarit the hell out of me. I was in their midst for a

           few days. Some low down skunk stole my blue uniform, on of the Rebs his name were

           Billy Smith, found me a uniform to where it weren't a blue one but a gray one. I eyed

           up the horse flesh trying to figure which one was fastest. I wasn't plannin on being

           sent to Andersonville, so escape was the only thing I could do. I got my chance late one

           evening, I crept out of the tent where I was being held. Ran fer all I was worth; jumped on

           that horse a rode as fast as I could. I sure did not want to risk capture at this stage. 

                       I rode into camp, almost got my damn fool head blowed off. One of the men on

           guard duty recognized me: "Johnny Shiloh is that you?"

                                                       " sure is Sam."

           I sure sighed a sigh of relief. I was discharged September 1864; rank of Sergeant."

He stood up and stretched then motioned the three into the house. There he showed them his union uniform; he fingered the material: "this one is the one that a group of ladies made for me, the men

                                                       had saved in case I turned up."

Then he picked up the gray uniform, tears formed in his eyes: "this is the reb uniform that Billy gave me. He raised his musket to shoot me but he didn't. Why? I don't know, I reckon I never will. Billy died in the Battle of Stone Mountain. I saw his body. I reckon there are things that are just to painful to remember." He placed the gray uniform back where it had been for all those years. He then placed the blue uniform on top of it. 

           "Pop, come on sit down. Matt get Grandpa a glass of lemonade." Matt went to the kitchen where his Grandma gave him four glasses. His story now complete, he returned to his rocking chair. His Son, and Grandsons stood at the screen door watching as he began to rock once again staring off in his memories. They heard him humming The Battle Hymn of the Republic, then in a trembling voice he sang: "his truth is marching on..."