Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 14.djvu/16

 10 Richmond, equipped at his own expense with uniforms, blankets, &c., the historic battery that bore his name. This battery was the first company that left Richmond for "the front."

GREENLEE DAVIDSON, commander of the Letcher battery, a man of imperturbable courage, fell at Chancellorsville.

GEORGE CAYCE, captain of "the Purcell," one of the most able and resolute officers in the whole artillery corps, died after the war had ended of the desperate wound received at Spotsylvania.

NED MARYE, captain of the Fredericksburg battery, whose merry quips cheered march and bivouac, died in '64 of disease contracted in the trenches of Petersburg.

Of the lieutenants, all faithful soldiers and good officers—

WILLIAM ALLEN, of "the Purcell," fell at Mechanicsville.

ELLIS MUNFORD of the Letcher battery, their young Sir Galahad, whose "strength was as the strength of ten, because his heart was pure," was slain at Malvern Hill.

MERCER FEATHERSTONE, a daring young officer of great promise, fell at Cedar Mountain.

ZEPH MAGRUDER, of "the Purcell," and JAMES ELLETT, of "the Crenshaw," both fell at Fredericksburg.

JOHN H. MUNFORD, of "the Letcher," gallant and true, died of injuries received at Gettysburg.

During the four years nearly every officer of the Battalion was wounded.

Of the non-commissioned officers and men who died under this flag I have no detailed record. Obeying with glad alacrity whenever our bugles sounded the advance, they were equally stubborn in retreat, and to us, the survivors of this Association, belongs the pious task of transmitting to posterity, so far as it be possible, the names of these soldiers of humbler rank, who were no less truly heroes than the men who so often led them to victory.

And now a word as to our young Commander, "so noble, so simple," as Madame Huber said of Lord Dacre," that each virtue seemed in him an instinct"—who, though recklessly exposing himself for four years of constant service, had passed unscathed of shot and shell through so many desperate fields, that all of us, officers and men, had come to feel that Death would never dare to touch him in his brave young years—of whom, once before, standing in this very spot, I confessed that I almost feared to speak lest I should injure that memory which I would honor.

He needs no panegyric in the presence of the men who knew him