had held up his pants by a strap
around his waist without suspenders. This strap had given out, and that
accounted for his holding up performance. When he began loading and
firing he had to "let go" and leave the pants to follow the law of
gravitation. Soon his ankles were swathed with these low down breeches,
and he was effectually teddered. I was here and there, doing my duty as
a sergeant. I had not noticed Barney's predicament till he called to me
in a tone of urgency and said, "Charley, cut the damned things off!" I
took in the situation in an instant, and in less time than I can write
it, jerked out my large knife, opened it, grabbed the waistband, made a
pass or two, and one leg was free, I said, "You can kick the other leg
out." He made a few passes, and from the top of his stockings up his
legs were bare. A good breeze was blowing sufficient to take away the
smoke from our guns, and sufficient to flap his unconfined shirt tail. I
remember calling Ike Plumb's attention to it and our having a good
laugh over it. Barney continued his fighting, and was with the men in
the grand charge that captured the rebels in the sunken road. He was
also in his place in the second attack we made. While the firing was at
the hottest I heard a man cry out, and I looked just in time to see
Barney throw his gun, and start off on his hands and one leg--the other
leg held up. The last I ever saw of him he was pawing off in that
fashion. I suspected that in some way he had got a shot in the foot.
Years after this occurance, I wrote a series of articles for THE
SHERBURNE NEWS, and in one of them gave this account. As soon as the
paper was out, my comrade, Porter E. Whitney came into my office. He was
in this battle and, I supposed, he knew about this affair. He had read
the account, and I said to him, "Of course, you remember it?" To my
chagrin, he replied, "That is the first I ever heard of it!" I said to
him, "That will leave me in a fine situation, people will ask you if you
remember the Barney Rogers incident, and you will say, "No," and the
enquirers will conclude that I have been telling a "Jim Tanner yarn."
"Well," he replied, "I can't remember what I never before heard of."

Some days after this, Whitney came to me and asked if I knew Barney
Rogers's address. I said, "No." He told me it was in the roster lately
published by the regimental association. I found it and at once wrote to
the address, and briefly inquired if he was th