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N the records of the
war department appears
the name of Henry B.
Clitz, who was a major
in the regular service.
। and who rose to the rank
of a brigadier general of
volunteers while in the
Union army during the
Civil war. Old army of
ficers remember Clitz
well, but possibly mil
lions of civilians have
well nigh forgotten him. After the short
official story of his service written on
the now time-stained paper hidden
away in a vault of the war depart
ment, these words appear: “Mysteri
ously disappeared in the year 1888."
The disappearance of Henry B. Clitz
is one of the mysteries of army life.
On other records In the war de
partment are brief official lines, also
on time-stained paper, telling of the
career of Jasper A. Maltby, colonel
of the Forty-fifth Illinois infantry,
more familiarly
known In the darker
days of the country's
history as the "Wash
burn’s Lead Mine
Regiment." Maltby’s
name was brought
back not long ago
sharply to memory
by the death of his
widow in St. Luke’s
hospital, Chicago. She
was a little snow-hair
ed woman who had
borne life’s burdens
for just the time al
lotted by the Psalm
ist. During the days
that this woman lay
111 at the hospital of
the Beloved Physi
cian, if her eyes wan
dered about the walls
of her room, it is
probable that for the
first time in many
years when within ‘
any room chosen by
her as an abiding
place, they failed to
rest upon the folds of
an American flag.
The stories of Gen
erals Clitz and Malt
by were stories of
sterling patriotism, of
.■action and of wounds
Teceived in the dis
charge of duty. Mys
tery has added its in
terest to the life’s j
story of Major Clitz,
perhaps one should
say to his death’s
story, though there
4s always a possibil
ity that at a great
age the major some-
where in some condition still has left in him a
spark of the spirit of life which moved him to
soldier deeds.
Recently a brigadier general of the regular
service, many years retired, came to Washington.
In the lobby of a hotel he met a veteran as griz
zled and wrinkled as he, but still of an upright
physical bearing. The general looked at the
man a moment actually aghast and then with
words that came out in the disorder of a “route
step” gasped:
"John I heard you were dead. I would as soon
have thought of meeting Clitz.”
The two had been subalterns in Clitz’s regi
ment during the Civil war and after, and had
loved him. It was perhaps the flashing thought
of an anniversary of a disappearance at hand
that sent the returned soldier’s thought to Major
Clitz when in the lobby of a Washington hotel
he met the former comrade, who he had heard
was dead. The army archives bqar no stranger
records than that of this case of General Henry
B. Clitz —he was only a major, however, when he
won distinction by his gallantry. It is twenty
three years ago now that Major Clitz was lost.
Twenty-three years, but a man may be found
after twenty-three years.
Major Henry B. Clitz, Twelfth infantry, U. S
A., was once dead and buried and was alive again,
was lost, and —the other word that should natur
ally fit here is either yet to be supplied, or for
ever Is to remain unwritten. There are scores
of soldiers today, old soldiers—but once a soldier
always a soldier —who, in the memory of what
happened after Gaines Mills, think that one day
they may again clasp this side of the grave the
hand of Comrade Clitz.
Henry B. Clitz of Michigan entered West Point
in the year 1841, graduating four years after.
He was a schoolmate of Grant, McClellan, Sheri
dan and Burnside. Clitz went into the Mexican
war and won praise on the field and a brevet
rank afterward for conspicuous gallantry at Cer
ro Gordo. Clitz was a fighter. He proved this
fact every time he had a chance, and during his
forty-five years of service he had chances In
plenty.
When the Civil war had been on for a time
Clitz found himself major of the Twelfth regu
lars. He was transferred to that outfit from the
Third, another fighting regiment. It came along
toward the time of Mechanicsville and Gaines
Mills. The Twelfth and the Fourteenth were ly
ing pretty close together. When the Gaines Mills
battle was on and war’s hurricane was at its
height the Twelfth and the Fourteenth were given
a position to hold. The two regiments were at
tacked by overwhelming numbers, but the num
bers weren’t overwhelming for a long time.
There wasn’t any retreat in the make-up of those
two regiments of regular infantry. The wave of
battle simply had to come down on them and
engulf them. Afterward when General Sykes
wrote a report about the Twelfth and Fourteenth
and the fight that they put up. he said the ranks
of the Twelfth were “decimated.’’ General Sykes
had probably never studied “English Lessons for
English People.” Unless things have changed,
decimated means the cutting out of one in ten.
This Is the way the Twelfth was "decimated.” It
went into the fight with 470 men; came out with
went down
too. When the fight was over, and afterward, when
some order came out of the chaotic hell, this re
port was turned in by General Sykes: “The
Twelfth and Fourteenth were attacked by over
whelming numbers. The ranks were decimated,
and Major Clitz was severely if not fatally in
jured. Around his fate, still shrouded in mys
tery, hangs the painful apprehension that a ca
reer so noble, no soldierly, so brave, has termin
ated on that field whose honor he so gallantly
upheld."
Major Clitz went on the list of the dead and
what w'as left of his regiment mourned him as
few soldiers are mourned.
Suitable orders were issued lamenting the death
of this hero of Cerro Gordo and Gaines Mills, but
before the period of the real mourning w’as over,
though the official kind had been over for months,
the dead came to life again. Major Clitz had
been shot through both legs and in one or two
other places, but on his shownng a few signs of
life the Confederates made a prisoner of him and
sent him to Libby.
Major Clitz was paroled. When he went back
into the service again and when the war was
over he put in twenty years campaigning on the
plains. In 1885 he retired after nearly half a
century of service, and went to live in Detroit,
Mich. Two years later his old command, with
which he had stood in the bullet storm at Gaines
Mills, passed through Detroit on its way to take
station at the posts of the great lakes. There
were not many then in the Twelfth who were in
it in the old days, but it was the same outfit with
the same old tattered regimental banners.
Major (then General) Clitz met the command
and old memories stirred him to tears. The
Twelfth cheered its old officer and then Detroit
was left behind.
Was it the stirring of old memories or what
was it? His old comrades in arms had been gone
but a little while when Major Clitz went to the
railroad station from which the train bearing the
soldiers pulled out, and there purchased a rail
road ticket for a lake city which held a garrison
of United States troops. From the hour of the
purchase of that ticket no one has been found,
soldier or civilian, to say that he has ever seen
Major Henry B. Clitz. The army records give in
detail the story of his gallantry in battle, and at
the end of the shining record are these words,
“Mysteriously disappeared in the year 1888.”
There was no mystery of disappearance in the
case of Brigadier General Jasper A. Maltby. He
died as the result of wounds received in action.
His widow who survived him many years and who
died at St. Luke’s hospital in Chicago held the
American flag and her husband's memory as the
most cherished things in life. Neither was ever
long absent from her mind.
How many men are there today, bar a few old
soldiers, to whom the name Jasper A. Maltby
would mean anything unless it were coupled, as
is the above, with some specific information?
Yet this man Jasper A Maltby was chosen by
General Grant, on the advice of McPherson and
Logan, to lead, with his single regiment, the most
desperate enterprise at the siege of Vicksburg,
and, as some historians have it. one of the three
200. They say
Major Clitz
fought that
day as he did
at Cerro Gor
do, only a lit
tle more so.
The regulars
resisted stren
uously for an
hour or two.
Finally some
of the men
saw Major
Clitz go down.
A big wall of
gray was fall
ing on them
just then, and
many others
most desperate enterprises of the entire war.
There are today surviving members of the
Forty-fifth Illinois in whose veins the words “Fort
Hill Mine” will make the blood tingle. It was
only a week before the Fourth on which Pember
ton surrendered the Confederate city. In Logan’s
front lay Fort Hill. It was decided at a council
of the generals that its sapping and mining and
the subsequent seizing and holding of the em
brasure made by the explosion would be of tre
mendous moral and strategical value to the Union
cause. The place was commanded by Confeder
ate artillery and by sharpshooters in a hundred
rifle pits. It was known that if the explosion of
Fort Hill w r as a success that few of the men who
rushed into the crevasses could hope to come out
alive. It would be what the Saxons called a deed
of derring-do. Owing to the limited space to be
occupied only a single regiment was to be named
to jump into the great.yawning hole after the ex
plosion and to hold it against the hell fire of the
enemy until adequate protective works could be
thrown up.
There was as many volunteers for the enter
prise as there were colonels of regiments In
Grant’s army. The choice fell on Jasper A. Malt
by and his following of Illinois boys.
The time came for the explosion. The Forty
fifth lay grimly awaiting the charge into death’s
pit. The signal was given; there came a heavy
roar and a mighty upheaval. Silence had barely
fallen before there rose one great reverberating
yell, and the Lead Mine Regiment, led by its col
onel, Jasper A. Maltby, with his lieutenant col
onel, Malancthon Smith, at his elbow, hurled
itself into the smoking crater. The lieutenant col
onel was shot through the head and mortally
wounded before his feet had fairly touched the
pit’s bottom. The colonel was shot twice, but
paid little heed to his wounds. A battery of
Confederate artillery belched shrapnel into the
ranks and sharpshooters seemed fairly to be firing
by volleys. The question became one of getting
some sort of protection thrown up before the en
tire regiment should be annihilated. Certain men
in the pit were tolled off to answer the sharp
shooter’s fire and to make it hot for the cannon
aders in the Confederate battery. They did what
they could, but it availed little to save their com
rades, who were toiling to throw up the redoubt.
Men fell on every side.
Beams were passed into the pit, and these were
put into position as a protection by the surviving
soldiers. The joists w’ere placed lengthwise and
dirt was quickly piled about them. Colonel Malt
by helped the men to lodge the beams. He went
to one side of the crater where there was no ele
vation. There he stood fully exposed, a shining
mark He put his shoulder under a great piece
of timber, and, weak with wounds though he w'as,
he pushed it up and forward into place. The bul
lets chipped the woodwork and spat in the sand
all about him.. One Confederate gunner of artil
lery trained his great piece directly at the devoted
leader. A solid shot struck the beam, from which
Colonel Maltby had just removed his shoulder,
and split it into kindling. Great sharp pieces of
the wood were driven into the colonel’s side, and
he was hurled to the bottom of the black pit.
The action was over shortly, for the gallant
Forty-fifth succeeded in making that death's hole
tenable. Then they picked up their colonel. He
was still alive, though the surgeon shortly after
ward said that it would be hard work to count
his wounds. They took him to the field hospital,
and before he had been there an hour there was
clicking over the wires to Washington a message
carrying the recommendation that Colonel Jasper
A. Maltby of the Lead Mine Regiment be made a
brigadier general of volunteers for conspicuous
personal gallantry in the face of the enemy.
A week later Grant’s victorious forces marched
Into Vicksburg.
Colonel Jasper A. Maltby or General Jasper A.
Maltby as it soon became, lived until the end of
the war, but no system could long withstand the
shock and pain of those gaping wounds. He died
in the very city which he had helped to conquer
Afterward a flag and a precious memory were
rarely absent from the life which finally flickered
out when the white-haired little widow died at
St. Luke’s hospital, Chicago.
A SURE SIGN. \
■ Bronson—ls there any doubt about
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Woodson —None whatever., If you
don’t believe we have money to burn,
look a^ the way we celebrate the
Fourth of July.
The Weak Ones.
Police Chief Sebastian of Los An
geles was talking about a married
man who had fallen before the charms
of the beautiful “flirt catcher."
“George was always weak,” said
Chief Sebastian. “Once, when he was
a boy at school, his mother was
apologizing for him to his school
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“ ‘George is so easily led,’ the
mother said.
“ ’Yes,’ the teacher agreed—‘except
in the right direction.’ ”
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