Around the cook fire, they sat
On that warm August night
A forced march got them there
Anticipating the coming fight
Their uniforms were a hodgepodge
Of both butternut and gray
Kepis and old slouch hats
Were proudly worn, displayed
In the distance were campfires
They could hear the Union bands
Serenading in the twilight
Drifting across no man’s land
The evening meal was over
Their pipes were out and lit
Every man, he became silent
Lost in their thoughts, they did sit
They all knew that tomorrow
Some of them would die
Always there in their minds
The lingering question of why
From the darkness, he came
Tall and stately, well composed
In his hand, he carried a book
What it was, everyone knows
Taking a fireside stump seat
He opened the book to read
The words were reassuring
He knew there was a need
The word that he loudly read
Came from the Twenty First Psalm
The effect that they gave
Instilled in them was calm
The chaplain from stump got up
Then led them in a prayer
Then he held an altar call
Offering salvation because he cared
Men would meet their Maker
On that battlefield tomorrow
The men that then came forth
They claimed victory over sorrow
June 14, 2022