I am a man who cannot carry a tune in a bucket. But I can whistle and whistle loud, over the years I have even learned to whistle a few tunes but I do not have an ear for music and few would care to listen to my music. Thankfully there were plenty in my company and Regiment who had a taste and a talent for music.

The regiment had a band and it wasn’t an unskilled group of men. Many a tune I liked was shared among the soldiers. Minstrel Boy may well have been my favorite but there were others sung and played around the campfires at night. Whenever we stopped it seemed small instruments appeared from nowhere to add their accompaniment to our sad attempt at music. On the march, in the camp a song was always being passed about. Music soothed our souls and made the time pass more quickly.

Pictured above is one of my mess, Emmanuel. Emmanuel and his constant companion Nate were friends and good soldiers. Emmanuel planned to make a business building musical instruments after the war, he had built quite a few cigar box fiddles and a few larger instruments. He carried a violin through the war, I cannot recall it ever leaving his pack except to grace his shoulder.

Young Nate was killed at Allatoona Pass. All that is good that can be said of his death is that it was quick. A bullet took him in the head killing him outright; at least the boy did not suffer. Emmanuel went a little mad over the death of his young friend becoming one of my “killers.” After Allatoona Pass he never once passed on the opportunity to form up in the skirmish line or take part in a patrol. He actively hunted the rebels and spared no effort trying to kill them. Emmanuel had been well liked prior to Allatoona Pass, but afterwards his cold demeanor and dead eyes changed him. The change dulled his popularity with the other men of the company and regiment. He took up a friendship with the Dakota boy Little Foot and the two worked well together.

Emmanuel like so many other young men, Union and Confederate, was forever changed by the war. I watched hatred nearly consume him, it became his boon companion. He still played but it was not the same; he had lost his passion for the music and it was not the same. If it had not been for the actions of my Mina and that precious little baby I expect Emmanuel would have attempted suicide by rebel. He was not alone in having the war change him; all too many were forever changed and scarred by the war. Too many of us looked into hell and found it staring back at us. Some learned to live with it, others let it consume them.

I lost track of Emmanuel after the war; like so many others he disappeared into the vast west never to be seen or heard from again. I cannot hear the strains of music from a fiddle or violin without thinking of Emmanuel. He was a good soldier and a good man. I hope that if he has indeed died he has found peace.

Those who have spent time around me know of my varied military experience. I started my military careers in the Dutch army, a career that lasted only a very short few months after which I deserted. I ended up in France and shared drinks with some fine young soldiers; I woke the next morn enrolled in the La Legion Etrangere. I would serve more than a decade and a half with the Legion being blooded in North Africa and the Crimea before I made my way to the United States. I would arrive a few years prior to the War of Rebellion but upon the commencement of that great war I would enlist at Ft Snelling Minnesota. Initially I was part of the training cadre and would assist in the training of the 2nd, 3rd and 4th Regiments of Minnesota Infantry. When the 4th marched toward the frontier I joined the NCO cadre and proudly marched beside them. I would march beside them until the Regiment mustered out of service.

The four young men you see in the picture above were typical of the men I served beside. They were so young, so eager to serve and all were volunteers. They made good soldiers, in my view, every bit as good as any I served with on the continent. They were tough, fit, rugged and superbly drilled but they lacked discipline. I do believe my old 4th Regiment of Minnesota Infantry could have out marched any regiment on the continent and I suspect they could have outfought them as well. Those Minnesota men were used to long walks, harsh winters and hot summers; such experience translated well into the life of a soldier. However, they would not brook the style of discipline I was accustomed to. They had a tendency to ask ‘why’ things had to be done and if they felt it foolish tended to balk, sometimes in a rather forceful manner. But they were also willing to listen and learn and they learned quickly. It did not take long to instill an understanding for the need of incessant drill and physical exertion. For the most part they took to my teachings rather enthusiastically. Though they abhorred the bayonet drill I was so fond of. They generally listened to and learned from me. By the end of the war my rank had not changed but many of those I had trained had been promoted well past me. I did not mind this, in fact I was proud of it. I was glad to see men that I had taught excel.

One of the men in the picture, Bryce, would become a good friend. Before the war he had been a sailor and was used to the hard work necessary for success. He never balked at an order and was always one of the first men in line when it came time to form up for battle. Bryce was one of the older men in my company and his age and maturity made him a natural choice for corporal and it was a rank he took to rather well. The men respected him and appreciated that he never asked them to do something he wasn’t willing to do alongside them. After the war Bryce headed to the north shore and resumed his pre war life eventually securing a job as a lighthouse keeper.

After the war the lions share of those who had survived went on with their lives. They largely picked up where they had left off. Farmers and clerks who had dropped their careers returned to their pre war life. They would marry, raise families and help to make America a better place. They were the foundation upon which the United States would finish the 19th century and enter the 20th. Their children and grand children would forge the nation. They were far from perfect but they were, by and large, good men who I was proud to serve beside.