The Terry Brothers

Col. Shannon Recalls the Death of Two of the Bravest Confederate Leaders.

SPECIAL TO THE NEWS.

Wharton, Tex., Sept. 13,—Colonel A. M. Shannon, the widely known citizen of Galveston-we could better say of South Texas, for who of us with span of life dating back into the '90's and beyond does not know the gallant Shannon? A member of that superb band whose thrilling deeds are wrapped in a hale of imperishable renown, as history seems to carry it; their fame is the common heritage of all the sunny Southland, yet the special pride and boast of Texas and Texans. Their names are set in deep [intaglios] on the walls of our temple of fame and have writ for themselves a record more lasting than could be traced on Parian marble or graven on shining brass. The unique, incomparable Terry's Texan Rangers. Colonel Shannon is here today handshaking his friends, with heart as buoyant, step elastic-though bair of head slightly touched with autumn tints of years—as when 40 years ago he threw his soul into the struggle in response to the call of duty, at the head of a company of kindred spirits which formed a part of the legion noted above. The Colonel is sometimes in a reminiscent mood, and when so, gathered around by a knot of friends, with a mind and memory unimpaired, reflecting back the incidents of two score years agone, it is like enjoying a feast to be a listener. In reply to a question as to what single incident connected with that celebrated regiment's career he remembered above any other, he replied:

"There were so many striking, indeed, unto themselves. But I can tell you something wherein I myself was connected in a fateful manner with the fortunes of the regiment and men of the house of Terry, like links in a chain, which has ever made deep impress upon my heart. The night before the fight at Woodsonville, Ky., our baptism of fire, a ball was given the Confederate officers by Southern sympathizers. Colonel Frank Terry, our first commander, was named by Hindman to remain in camp with the troopers, as the enemy was known to be near. The next morning all were awakened early, for it was evident trouble was brewing, for shortly afterward the Confederate skirmishers were rapidly driven in by the Federal advance. Our troops were briskly forming in line of battle. Our camp had been pitched overlooking the Green River. I was close by Terry and present when General Hindman, our brigade commander, rode up and gave orders for the advance of our line. The 'ping' of [minie] bullets just then rang unpleasantly in our ears. Colonel Terry, noting this, said to Hindman: 'General, this seems a dangerous place for one like you carrying so much responsibility.' General Hindman turned and replied, with a pleased look upon his face: 'How about regimental commanders?' Terry responded with: 'General, here is my place: I will lead the charge.' All this said without display or bravado.

"Terry looked the very impersonation of manliness and courage. With the first of the Rangers I noticed Colonel Terry reel in his saddle. I caught him in my arms. The Colonel pointed out to his son, David, the man who had shot him. We sent the body of our Colonel home, when his much loved brother, the noted Clint Terry, returned with the escort. He, it might be said, took the brother's place with the man of the regiment.

"I shall never forget the 6th of April, 1862, at Shiloh. During the hottest part of the engagement Colonel Clint Terry, undismayed amid the shower of lead, received a ball in the breast, his death wound. I was the first who raised his drooping head and gave the wounded man over to an escort with orders to carry him safely to the rear. His remains were taken to his Texas home to rest beside the brother who preceded him.

"Nor shall the remembrance of that terrible day at Chickamauga fade from my mind. With the return of the soldier escort who had laid the remains of the second Terry safely on Texas soul, came Judge David Terry, who had made a name for himself in far distant California and as is sadly remembered, was later on killed by the United States Marshal guarding Justice Field. The circumstances attending that killing are too well known to recount here. In the battle last mentioned, the fortunes of the day again threw me with the third chance, luck or fate, call it what you will, he, too, received what was thought to be his mortal wound, a ball through the chest from side to side. My arms were the first to assist the wounded man. He eventually recovered, regaining his accustomed health.

"And now, strange to relate, while mentioning these sad incidents of the past, rounding out the record of my connection with the members of the family, nearly 30 years later, January 1890, in Galveston, Texas, it fell my lot to be among the first to perform the last mournful offices over the dead of another and younger Terry, the unfortunate Kyle (son of the dashing Colonel Frank Terry), who met his death under widely different circumstances than those attending the deaths of father and uncle. Here I must tell you, at the mention of the name of Terry there rises always to my lips the name of another famous Texan, built on the same order. Indeed, there was much in common. I might say there could be traced a singular analogy between them. Nature in distributing her gifts had been equally partial. I need only tell you I refer to the loved, the high-minded Colonel William P. Rogers, who fell sword in hand at the head of his Texans in the charge at Corinth. I frankly own there has always been a tender spot in my heart for General Rosecrans. It was my good fortune to be present once when an officer of the Federal forces in that battle-in fact, a personal attache of the General's-was reciting to Confederate officers the incidents connected with Colonel Rogers' death, from their point of view. Rosecrans, glass in hand, had observed the approach of the Texans in their attempt to gain the Federal outworks. He saw Rogers fall, and directed his body to be taken within the lines and carried to his own tent. Here, assembling his staff about him, after a pause, he said: 'Gentlemen, before us lies the cold and lifeless clay of the bravest man my eyes ever gazed upon.' True it is, death does not come to all mortals alike. Fortune denies to many that which she allots to but a few. It has always struck me, as we all must accept the common lot, there is something singularly grand surrounding the death of William P. Rogers."

W.F.L.