Why Do The Men Fight? There is a story told about General Lee:
After the battle of Second Manassas, General Lee was seated on
Traveller at the Groveton crossroads, watching his soldiers
digging graves for the burial of their pals. A drummer boy from
the 40th Virginia Regiment, Field’s Brigade, Hill’s division
approached him, trembling and in tears. Two days before, the boy
had been at the railroad cut and had witnessed his regiment’s
bloody struggle with the bluecoats of Leasure’s brigade,
Kearny’s division, Heintzelman’s corps. And the day before he
had steadily beaten his drum, despite the terrifying whine and
explosion of the shells, advancing with the pitiful few left of
the regiment after Pope’s final attack had failed. Now, the
drummer boy, his shock of sandy hair caked with greasy dirt, his
shallow face black with smudges of powder, his homespun clothes
in tatters, came up to Traveller’s stirrup and, laying a hand on
the big stallion’s moist shoulder, said to General Lee, in a
quavering voice: “Please