, and we know that Sherman's
incendiaries are already hacked. Sherman himself is a coward, and dares
not try his strength with old Joe. Sherman never fights; all that he
is after is marching to the sea, while the world looks on and wonders:
"What a flank movement!" Yes, Sherman is afraid of minnie balls, and
tries the flank movement. We are ordered to march somewhere.

"FALLING BACK"

Old Joe knows what he is up to. Every night we change our position.
The morrow's sun finds us face to face with the Yankee lines. The troops
are in excellent spirits. Yonder are our "big guns," our cavalry--
Forrest and Wheeler--our sharpshooters, and here is our wagon and supply
train, right in our midst. The private's tread is light--his soul is
happy.

Another flank movement. Tomorrow finds us face to face. Well, you have
come here to fight us; why don't you come on? We are ready; always
ready. Everything is working like clockwork; machinery is all in order.
Come, give us a tilt, and let us try our metal. You say old Joe has got
the brains and you have got the men; you are going to flank us out of the
Southern Confederacy. That's your plan, is it? Well, look out; we are
going to pick off and decimate your men every day. You will be a picked
chicken before you do that.

What? The Yankees are at Resacca, and have captured the bridge across
the Oostanaula river. Well, now, that's business; that has the old ring
in it. Tell it to us again; we're fond of hearing such things.

The Yankees are tearing up the railroad track between the tank and
Resacca. Let's hear it again. The Yankees have opened the attack;
we are going to have a battle; we are ordered to strip for the fight.
(That is, to take off our knapsacks and blankets, and to detail Bev.
White to guard them.) Keep closed up, men. The skirmish line is firing
like popping fire-crackers on a Christmas morning. Every now and then
the boom of a cannon and the screaming of a shell. Ha, ha, ha! that has
the right ring. We will make Sherman's incendiaries tell another tale in
a few moments, when--"Halt! about face." Well, what's the matter now?
Simply a flank movement. All right; we march back, retake our knapsacks
and blankets, and commence to march toward Resacca. Tom Tucker's rooster
crows, and John Branch raises the tune, "Just Twenty Years Ago," and
after we sing that out, he winds up with, "There Was an Ancient
Individual Whose Cognomen Was Uncle Edward