Classic Poem

To make the soldier, you surely need,
Above the courage and grit and breed,
That thorough drill in the soldier's trade
That rendered Butterfield's old brigade
So famous during the civil strife
As a wall of defense, instinct with life,
That could n't be driven back nor moved;
As the battle of Gaines' Mill clearly proved,
Where valor another synonym made,
In the bugle-call of the Third Brigade:—
“Dan! Dan! Dan!
Butterfield! Butterfield!”

Great battles of lesser battles are made;
And often the pluck of a single brigade
Has turned the tide and rebuked the storm
Of rushing thousands in uniform.
But back of the valor by which men win
Are the bitter lessons of discipline;
And the Third Brigade in the test of war
Found out what rigorous rules were for;
Though oft when weary, some wag would bawl
This change in the words of the bugle-call:—
“D—n! Dan! Dan!
Butterfield! Butterfield!”

The Gaines' Mill Battle, old soldiers say,
Was the fiercest one of the civil fray:
'T was in Sixty-two, in the afternoon
On a sunny day near the end of June,
When the crafty Lee, in his armed might,
Hard hit McClellan's unguarded right.
It was fearful odds:—Eighty thousand bore
With terrible weight on a single corps
Which seemed to be standing on dress parade,
Where rose the cry of the Third Brigade:—
“Dan! Dan! Dan!
Butterfield! Butterfield!”

“Be sure, my men of the Third Brigade,
To show the metal of which you're made!
Wait till you see the white of the eye,
Then fire at the knee and don't fire high!”
As wave follows wave on the rocky shore,
Come the long gray lines with ominous roar,
To fall back broken! 'T is death to stay—
For the Third Brigade will never give way!
With matchless courage, e'en while they fall,
They shout the words of their bugle-call:—
“Dan! Dan! Dan!
Butterfield! Butterfield!”

There are times when brave men only stand
Because a hero is in command;
And here is a case where thousands yield
The palm of valor to Butterfield:
“Hold this position!” they hear him say,
“For should you waver, the corps gives way!”
Then down the lines, in the face of death,
They watch him ride, and catching their breath
At sight of a courage almost insane,
They shout from fear their commander be stain:—
“D—n! Dan! Dan!
Butterfield! Butterfield!”

In the lull of battle they hear him shout:
“Your ammunition is never out
So long as your bayonets hold!” And then,
Thrusting a guidon in earth:—“Brave men
Of the Sixteenth, make it a human wall,
Though every man in the regiment fall!”
The enemy charged and charged again:
In five short minutes a thousand men
Went down like grass from the mower's blade,
So fearful the fire of the Third Brigade!
“Dan! Dan! Dan!
Butterfield! Butterfield!”

Great wars may trample out human lives,
But the story of valor forever survives:—
The rest of the corps so shattered and torn
By weight of numbers was overborne
And driven back! But the Third Brigade,
Though fighting an army, would not be swayed;
But held their ground till the day was done!
The battle was lost; but the Third had won
A glory that victory cannot bring—
The palm for valor!—and still they sing:
“Dan! Dan! Dan!
Butterfield! Butterfield!”

Consummate soldier was “Fighting Dan,”
Who never was conquered because his plan
Was: “Fight! And the sooner the battle is won.
The sooner the business of war is done!”
“What else,” cried he, “is the soldier for
But to stop the rush of the steeds of war?”
With him was the genius and fearless hand
For wielding the sword of supreme command.
Some deeds of valor are left untold,
But Fame has this with the great enrolled:
“Dan! Dan! Dan!
Butterfield! Butterfield!”