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6 revisions | Tanner Turgeon at May 19, 2020 08:52 AM | |
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4434 wings of the night winds, and sounding singular and solemn on that vast natural stage, heretofore a stranger to the exultant notes of Freedom's sons. Night creeps on more stealthily than a Spanish guerrilla through the dense encircling foliage, until taps gives warning that the hours for sleep and silence has struck. Soon the entire command, with the exception of the watchful outposts, reclining on mother earth's broad bosom and canopied by the starry heavens, is wrapped in merciful oblivion or beguiled by dreams of distant loved ones. And, alas! many a noble fellow slumbering so peacefully there will, ere another sun has set, fall fighting into that sleep that knows no awakening, after recording in his own life-blood his name upon the scroll of his country's heroes. The sharp rattle of the reveille arouses the camp to preparation for the onward march, and the scene closes with the advance of the army towards the stronghold of San Juan. | 44 |