DIY History | Transcribe | World War I Diaries and Letters | Conger Reynolds newspaper clippings, 1916-1919 | The American Magazine: "The Hottest Four Hours I Ever Went Through" by Floyd Gibbons

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Conger Reynolds newspaper clippings, 1916-1919

The American Magazine: "The Hottest Four Hours I Ever Went Through" by Floyd Gibbons - Page 5

-went on his way, trying to shop doors, huddling in the doorways to avoid the wind blowing on his aching hands. Eph went up the Hill. Half way up Park Street he looked back and saw Ragan disappearing; so when he came to the top he felt safe in turning aside a little to pause before the Memorial and report his triumph to his colonel there....
    He stood on the steps before the monument, and took off his hat, and explained the matter very respectfully; and, for all the howling of the wind, he was sure he heard the low exclamations of his comrades in the graven ranks there; and he was sure the officer looked down at him, and spoke with him, and praised him....
    The night watchman at the State House across Beacon Street reported afterward that he had thought, in the night, he heard the sound of martial music in the street. It might have been a banjo and an old man's voice; he could not be sure. 
    "But it sounded like a fife and drums to me," he said over and over, "I came to a window and looked out; but I couldn't see a thing. Thought I must have been dreaming."
   Whether it was the old Eph's banjo and it was Eph's song he heard, or whether it was indeed the shrilling of invisible fifes, welcoming a hero home, I cannot say. He  ------ was the "Battle Hymn of the Re----" that he heard, so Ragan thinks it ----- old Eph. But I am not so sure.... At any rate, Ragan found Eph in the morning. The old darky was huddled at the base of the Memorial, cuddling his banjo in his arms, while above his head the sculptured ranks marched interminably on.
    Ragan and the lawyer between them decided to tell Jim Forrest the truth of the matter; and it was Jim who devised old Eph's epitaph. That which he caused to be set upon the small, white stone was a familiar phrase enough, but glorious as simple things may be:
                      Old Eph 
               January 17, 1918
         Dead on the Field of Honor

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-went on his way, trying to shop doors, huddling in the doorways to avoid the wind blowing on his aching hands. Eph went up the Hill. Half way up Park Street he looked back and saw Ragan disappearing; so when he came to the top he felt safe in turning aside a little to pause before the Memorial and report his triumph to his colonel there.... He stood on the steps before the monument, and took off his hat, and explained the matter very respectfully; and, for all the howling of the wind, he was sure he heard the low exclamations of his comrades in the graven ranks there; and he was sure the officer looked down at him, and spoke with him, and praised him.... The night watchman at the State House across Beacon Street reported afterward that he had thought, in the night, he heard the sound of martial music in the street. It might have been a banjo and an old man's voice; he could not be sure. "But it sounded like a fife and drums to me," he said over and over, "I came to a window and looked out; but I couldn't see a thing. Thought I must have been dreaming." Whether it was the old Eph's banjo and it was Eph's song he heard, or whether it was indeed the shrilling of invisible fifes, welcoming a hero home, I cannot say. He ------ was the "Battle Hymn of the Re----" that he heard, so Ragan thinks it ----- old Eph. But I am not so sure.... At any rate, Ragan found Eph in the morning. The old darky was huddled at the base of the Memorial, cuddling his banjo in his arms, while above his head the sculptured ranks marched interminably on. Ragan and the lawyer between them decided to tell Jim Forrest the truth of the matter; and it was Jim who devised old Eph's epitaph. That which he caused to be set upon the small, white stone was a familiar phrase enough, but glorious as simple things may be: Old Eph January 17, 1918 Dead on the Field of Honor