It was July in Virginia, the scent of the
dogwood and the
laurel lay heavy on the land while the burgeoning fruit of the peach and the
apple marked the
full sway of summer. For seven fateful days, the trees, the flowers, yes the very
ground itself,
had shuddered under he roar of cannon, the bark of howitzers and the
crackling of a legion of
rifles.
Now, all was silent. The sledge hammer blows of Robert E.
Lee and
Stonewall Jackson had mauled the Army of the Potomac, and yet that army
was NOT destroyed.
Seven thousand men had fallen in that dreadful week, and the savagery of the
conflict was
grimly evident in the river of wounded that wound through the green hills.
Now a new sound drifted in the soft evening sky, for Colonel
Dan
Butterfield, a courageous and able soldier, was also a man of music. To honor
his fallen
comrades, he had composed a simple and heart rending melody. On July 2nd
in the year of
1862, its strains floated over the graves that scarred the dark Virginia earth.
It has been more than a hundred years since that sound was
born, but those
notes have never died away. Every night of the year throughout the world,
fighting men of
America from the north AND the south, the east and the west, close their eyes
and sleep to its
call, and in each of their hearts there glows a fierce surge of pride:
Trumpet calls as the sun sinks in site
Sleep in peace, comrades dear
God is near.