"TAPS."

PEORIA!  October 4, 1862. July 29, 1865.  Departure and return. At 7 o'clock in the morning they reached the Central City, and at once marched to Rouse's Hall, where the "Woman's National League" had prepared a good breakfast, a right royal greeting to stomachs so long inured to "hard tack and salt pork." An appropriate reception speech was made, and the boys partook of that bountiful repast. In doing so, they remembered the many kindnesses they had received from the devoted women who waited upon them that morning. "The glory of their deeds, while not written, like ours, upon the bunting that floats above us, are more surely written in the hearts and memories of the boys, who, far away from kith and kin, strangers in a strange land, enjoyed their ministrations."
        Let the public prints of July 31, 1865, tell the story of their welcome home:
        "The reception of this Regiment (the 77th) on Saturday last, given by the Ladies' League to the returning heroes, was one of the best conducted affairs our people ever saw. The history of the Regiment will be found in another column. It was understood that the boys would arrive on the morning train at 4 o'clock. The ladies repaired to the Hall and were ready to receive them at that hour. But owing to the road being out of repair, caused by the heavy rains, they did not arrive until 8 o'clock. Notwithstanding this delay, to their honor be it said, not one of the ladies left her post. The ringing of the bell of the Congregational Church, announced their arrival to the citizens, who flocked to Rouse's Hall to receive them.
        "From the cars, the boys, two hundred and sixty strong, marched to the Hall preceded by the regimental band, and were welcomed in behalf of the League, by the Hon. W. Cockle in a brief address. Three cheers for the soldiers were given by the audience, which was responded to by the soldiers at the instance of Gen. Grier. After invoking the Divine blessing by the Chaplain, the boys sat down to breakfast. The tables were appropriately and beautifully decked with flowers, and loaded with the choicest viands. The cellars and markets of the city had been ransacked for dainties, and the table waited on by beauty, and served up as only the Ladies' Union League can serve a meal, was one that only a volunteer was worthy to sit down at. The boys showed their appreciation of its delicacies by a prolonged assault worthy of veterans.
        "At the close of the repast the crowd adjourned to the Court House yard to witness the closing exercises. The old flag that the ladies had given to the Regiment three years ago, that, shot riddled and blood-stained, had been carried through all the battles in which they had been engaged, was now to be given back to its donors as the only ones fit to keep it in custody. Gen. Grier introduced Major Stevens, who made the presentation speech. He alluded to the different condition of the country now, and when the flag was given to them. He paid an eloquent tribute to the fallen Col. Webb and the brave men who perished with him. Now that the boys had accomplished that which they were sent to do, he in behalf of the Regiment, would return them the flag, stained and torn, it was true, but not a thread tarnished or sullied by dishonor.
        "He was followed by Hon. Alex. McCoy, who paid a well received compliment to the Ladies' League, saying that not to the old men or to the young men of Peoria was the honor due, but to the members of this noble organization, who had worked early and late for four long, weary years to sustain our soldiers in the field. At the close of the honorable gentleman's remarks, the band of the 77th played several patriotic airs and were applauded by the audience. Chaplain McCulloch then followed in a speech in which he advised the boys to have an eye on the men at home who had declared the war to be a failure, and who had kept up 'a fire in the rear' at home. No man who had advocated such sentiments as these ought to be tolerated in office, and he hoped that the boys present would never vote for such a man.
        "He was followed by Mr. Thos. McCulloch in an eloquent speech, and the exercises closed.
        "The reception reflects the greatest credit upon the getters-up of the affair. The appearance of the soldiers was exceedingly fine. One could not help contrasting their open, manly, intellectual countenances and modest bearing, with the vacant, listless faces which Confederate soldiers present, and thinking how great the difference between such a reception as this, and the one that the Southern rebel meets on his return.
        "Too much praise cannot be given to the band of the regiment. It was the universally expressed opinion of all present that it is the best band in the State. It seems a pity that it should disband after attaining such proficiency. An effort, we understand, is making to retain them in the city. We hope it will be successful. To show that we are not alone in our opinion, we subjoin the following remarks from the Springfield Journal of Saturday:
        " 'It is but just to say, in this connection, that the band of the Seventy-Seventh Regiment has the reputation of being one of the best in the service; and from their fine performances yesterday, we have no doubt they are entitled to the honorable distinction. The band consists of fourteen performers, under the leadership of Mr. Wiley, and what is remarkable, none of them, except the leader, having any musical experience until they entered the service. Their instruments are of the finest description, and cost over one thousand dollars. We congratulate the leader on his successful efforts in forming so fine a military band.'
        "The boys were furnished with dinner at the Central House. Most of them went out on the afternoon train. Generally the utmost good order prevailed. A few, rejoicing in the prospect of getting home, indulged in too deep potations; but these were exceptions, and not by any means the rule."
        Many of the prisoners of war who had returned home only a few days before the main body of the Regiment, were present to enjoy the hospitality of Peoria, and formed a part of the happy throng on that occasion.
        Another allusion to the Regimental Band, in the Transcript, will not be out of place.
        "The serenades last evening were worthy of the Seventy-Seventh Band. It was fitting that their last act should be a tribute of respect to the widow of their fallen Colonel, an acknowledgement of grateful thanks to the Woman's National League, through its President, and a good-bye to their General. At Mrs. Webb's the party were received with welcome. Refreshments were handed them. They played exceedingly well. A large crowd gathered and saluted them with cheers. At Mrs. Curtenius's, the house, yard and sidewalk were filled by expectants long before the band made its appearance.
        "They were enthusiastically received. After playing an hour they were treated to a splendid collation. It was one of the pleasantest reunions we ever attended; the shower in the distance cooled the air; the crowd, animated by the music, were sociable and quiet. Some five hundred people were present. Everything passed off very pleasantly. The band then marched to General Grier's, where they again played. They were received in a very pleasant and happy manner. The whole thing was a success. Today the boys go to Elmwood to attend a reception. They there finally disband. Success to them in every walk of life."
        As the boys separated at Peoria, one of them wrote as follows:
        "After the morning speeches the boys disbanded; and the old Seventy-Seventh, except as a factor of the past in the history of our country's struggle, ceased to exist. For the deeds of her history, the war records must tell the story. We have written the last page, for our battles are all fought and our marches are all ended. As the years come apace, and in our declining years, if we should meet again in some bright day of reunion, though the furrows may mark our brows, and the hair be grey, and the eyes lose some of their lustre, yet the recalling of these eventful years will quicken the blood in its conduits and make us feel the spirit of youth's ambition again. We now go to our homes and to our industries, once more settling down as good citizens of a country we feel proud to call our own; a country purchased with sacrifices that are colored with the purple of noble lives. And may God grant that from henceforth, from the Lakes to the Gulf, and from Ocean to Ocean, it may be OUR COUNTRY, one and indivisible, now and forever."
        There is an unwritten record in the life of every soldier -- a record all the more interesting because unwritten -- a record of heroic deeds, of patient suffering, of toil and privation, of watchfulness and weariness, of exposure and danger, which, if fully known and realized, would command the enthusiastic plaudits of the world. It is not alone the gilded trappings of official place, nor the honored blade which flashes in the sunlight, that gains our battles and adorns with glorious achievements, our historic page. Military discipline and authority, it is true, repose in the bullion of shoulder-straps, but VICTORY perches on the bayonet and glitters along the barrel of the trusty rifle in the ranks. The private soldier who plods wearily along the dusty road, and cheerfully bears the burdens of the most arduous and exacting campaigns, is the true personification of heroism. Without a murmur and without complaint; leading a life of constant insecurity; with no personal consideration; actuated only by a patriotic love of country, he flings his apparently worthless life away, those hallowed words, GOD and MOTHER, lingering on his dying lips.
        And the sacrifice is not in vain. It has cost much of treasure and of blood, to maintain the integrity of our civil and religious institutions, but the Government is worth all, and more than all this lavish expenditure. Better, far better, that the whole population of the United States, both North and South, should be swept from the face of the earth, that the Mayflower might land another cargo of refugees on Plymouth Rock, and that the trackless forests of Massachusetts should be opened to the spread of civilization by another band of devoted christian men, than that the sun should be turned back on the dial of the world's progress by the success of Secession or Rebellion. A voice comes from the silent graves of Manassas, of Donelson, of Shiloh, of the Malvern Hills, and of other hard contested fields, admonishing us to secure at all hazards, and to maintain inviolate the perpetuity of the Union of all the States.
        Oh, the ravages of war! The blighted hopes, the bleeding hearts, the desolated hearth-stones at home! The tented field, the bloody strife, the nameless graves abroad! How many of our comrades, buoyant with hope and glowing anticipations of the future, have left their bones bleaching on a Southern soil, while the Father of Waters sings their sad requiem as he flows to the Gulf. They being dead, yet speak; and their memories are as fresh in our hearts to-day as when we buried them on the battle-field, or in the levee at Young's Point and Milliken's Bend. And it is gratifying to know that a generous government has gathered up their mortal remains wherever they could be found, and has laid them away tenderly in our National Cemeteries. Twenty of our comrades of the Seventy-Seventh, whose remains could be identified, now repose quietly in the National Cemetery at Vicksburg. They were gathered up here and there; some on the battle-field, and some in the levee across the river.
        Mother, yours was a noble sacrifice. That son, your pride and the hope of your declining years, was placed upon the altar of his country, with your parting benediction upon his head. While your heartstrings were snapping and your temples throbbing at the separation, you conjured him with more than Spartan fortitude, by all his hopes of immortality, by all the sacred associations of the home circle, by all the treasured objects of affection he was leaving behind him, to fall manfully on the field of strife, with his face to the foe, rather than return to your embrace with the brand of dishonor resting upon him. Your self-sacrificing injunctions were religiously observed.
        Wife, the partner of your joys and sorrows, to whom in youth you plighted your affections, and on whom you leaned for support and protection, died in a sacred cause, at the cannon's mouth, and in a blaze of imperishable glory. Although your loss was irreparable, well may you rejoice at the record of his daring. He left a name untarnished by any imputation of cowardice or disloyalty -- an honored name which you are proud to bear.
        Sister, your idolized brother was another martyr in behalf of man's inalienable birthright -- "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." Your heart, perhaps, was desolate, you missed him in the social gathering, there was a vacant chair at the fireside, the sacred shrine of home lost one of its ornaments, and that ornament reposes in an unknown grave in a distant State.
        Daughter, your father left you a legacy of honor more enduring than the victor's laurel crown, or the diadem of princes. He wrote his name in living characters, high on the scroll of immortal fame, and there it shall remain inscribed forever, the admiration of posterity, and an example worthy of imitation.
        Mother, wife, sister, daughter, go and garland the graves of the slain patriots. Embalm their memories in your hearts, and rehearse the story of their noble deeds to the generations following. Let the prattling lips of infancy learn to lisp their praises, and the aspiring youth to emulate their virtues and rival their patriotic devotion.
        Comrades, it was not on the field of battle that your greatest losses were sustained. Disease was a greater scourge than shot and shell. And how many -- oh, how many -- fell by the wayside, and were buried in Kentucky, in Tennessee, in Missouri, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, Texas, and by the dark lagoons of Louisiana. At Arkansas Post, at Vicksburg, at Mansfield, at Mobile, and all along the line of march, you dug your graves, interred your noble dead and planted your tombstones, the sad memorials of your march. The chaplets of fame and the homage of a nation's gratitude cluster thickly in those consecrated burial grounds.
        As the years come and go, we are falling by the way. One by one our places are becoming vacant. Here and there along the line of march, the little mounds of earth, covering the soldiers' clay, are multiplying in our burial grounds. But while we live, let us not forget the past. Let us cling to the sacred memories of the war, and preserve inviolate the friendships "welded in the fire of battle." And let us cherish -- ever fondly cherish -- the memory of our patriotic dead. On the annual return of each memorial day, let as gather our garlands of flowers, and strew them, an offering of sweet incense, on their graves. And there, kneeling at those hallowed shrines, renew our allegiance to the principles for which they died. And above all, let us be true to our Country and our Flag. "With malice toward none, and with charity for all," let us never, NEVER, NEVER, clasp fraternal hands across the "bloody chasm," on any other terms than unconditional loyalty to the powers that be. So shall we best exemplify our devotion to the principles inculcated by the three cardinal virtues of the soldier's creed:

FRATERNITY -- CHARITY -- LOYALTY.
 
 

THE END.

Last Updated: September 4, 2001