The Story of Kaleb Smith
adapted by Christopher Leverette
"HEY! Gi't me some grub!" I yelled as I sat in the darkened corner of my five foot by five foot cell.
"Shut-up in there! You don't want me to feed ya' some of this here lead out of my gun do ya'?" hollered the guard in reply to my hungered request. He was too focused on his card game to have any concern for me.
Being a prisoner of war, I guess I shouldn't expect much. At least I'm still alive, while most of my friends, fellow brigadiers, and even my lieutenant lost their very souls after our last bloody battle.
In fact, to be truly honest, I'm still amazed we lost that battle. Everything seemed to be going in our favor that day. Our fearless young lieutenant, Kaleb Smith was no more than sixteen years old, gave us the confidence and determination that we could win this battle - and even win this war. Kaleb mentioned to me one evening around the camp fire that he was so fearless because his mother died a few weeks back from the pox, and his dad left to fight in the war several months ago and was probably dead - so he had nothing to lose. His powerful words and battle strategies seemed like that of an aged, battle-worn general. And just as sure as his powerful words and leadership of us volunteer soldiers was his shooting - boy did he have a deadly shot.
Before our last battle, I couldn't sleep knowing that almighty God might allow me only a few more hours of dear life. Early the next day, on that crisp fall morning before dawn, Kaleb Smith assembled us troops. He decided to send out half of us to charge the enemy without hesitation in hopes of breaking through their lines.
From atop the hill I watched our front line storm through the woods and down the hill into the fog and smoke covered fields, firing their guns at will. From that moment the cannons started to fire, shaking the very earth beneath me, gun shots came whizzing overhead, and the screaming of grown men in pain consumed my senses. Soon after the charge began, our men were being shot down at an alarming rate - much quicker than we were killing the enemy. I watched in amazement as I saw one of their men rapidly firing and reloading his gun - the quickest and most deadly shooter I had ever seen. Due to this obvious turnaround of events, Kaleb Smith called a retreat of his troops and all that were still alive regrouped back on top of the hill with the rest of us.
Having the sole attention of everyone on top of the hill, Kaleb Smith addressed us with fierce determination. "We WILL NOT give-up! We WILL crush through their lines! We MUST make them the weaker force!" I could tell he was raised by a father that never let him quit at anything.
Kaleb Smith had us all charge this time, so I fixed my bayonet on the end of my gun and held my saber by my side.
We all charged down the hill, stopping only to reload our rifles. I was fighting and firing along side our flag and my lieutenant, whose shooting reminded me of that enemy soldier I watched earlier. Kaleb was killing almost every soldier he aimed at, until that moment came where I recognized that sharp shooting enemy soldier take aim at my lieutenant. I cried out to warn him as I rushed over to guard him, but before I could get to Kaleb it was too late, I saw his head kick back and his gun dropped to the ground. This came as total shock, my emotions overcame me as I wanted to quit and run away, but as a soldier I could not give up - I could not let this loss of a friend and lieutenant keep me from my duty.
Almost immediately after Kaleb had been shot, the enemy soldier that shot him went mad. He got up and threw his rifle at a tree. It hit and shattered into a thousand pieces. He began to run right at me, screaming at the top of his lungs. I couldn't make out what he was yelling, but my fear was gone. I rose up and began firing at him, as did many others. I shot him in the shoulder. He fell; he rose, then he took a round in the leg. He fell; and he rose again. In the leg again. He fell; he rose again. He went on like a demon possessed madman, screaming and reaching for the enemy. Hit in the chest, then the neck, then the foot. But each time he would fall, he would rise again. He kept on going toward the flag. I then realized that he was trying to reach our flag. If he could get to our flag, victory would be theirs. Everyone on the enemy forces fed off this man's energy and went mad. They all charged behind him, some with guns, some with knives, swords, or just their bare hands. They wanted our flag. I saw this mad man get hit once more in the stomach. This time he fell just in front of the flag on top of Kaleb. He tried to drag himself closer to the flag, but the soldier's body was entangling him. All of a sudden this crazed man slumped over until his face lay upon Kaleb's, his lips touching his cheek as if in an eternal kiss, maybe the kiss of death. I didn't know.
But in this frenzied charge, they had taken our flag and the battle was over. This crazed man had led them to victory. His gallant charge was the bravest I, or anyone else, had ever seen. I was untouched, not even a scratch. Fate had left me to tell of my friend Kaleb.
It was not until I was in this disgusting jail cell for captured soldiers that I overheard the following from one prison guard talking to another. The lieutenant from the other side, supposedly a good friend of the crazed man that started the charge - whose name also happened to be Kaleb Smith, sat down to record the names of the dead. He found the name of Kaleb Smith and marked it. Out of curiosity, he inquired as to the name of the brave young lieutenant who stood boldly in front of our flag. They questioned me as to what his name was, I simply told them his name was Kaleb Smith. This seemed impossible to their lieutenant -and that I must be wrong. He went to his commander to ask where this enemy lieutenant had been laid to rest. He had not been buried yet, so he went to find him to get his real name. When he got there, he found the young officer and searched him. In his breast pocket he found a picture of his family - he was younger then, but you could make him out. You could also make out everyone else. The older man in the picture was the other Kaleb! On the back of the picture was written ... "To my son Kaleb. Take care of your Mamma. See you soon! Love always, Father." The crazed man, Kaleb Smith Sr., wasn't after the flag; he was tying to reach his son. They buried Kaleb Jr. next to his father underneath one marker inscribed, "Each man chooses and each man dies but never has the cost been so great. Here lies Kaleb Smith and Kaleb junior. Rest in peace ... Together.
Source: http://www.uscivilwar.com/uscw/usFeatz.cfm?dwFeatureID=1
*Selected Civil War Photographs from the Library of Congress, click here
*Civil War Artillery, click here
*Audio site of different Bugle Calls, click here
*Links to Civil War Diaries, Letters, and Memoirs, click here
Appropriate for Grade 5 on up.
Worksheet
1. About how old was the young Kaleb Smith?
2. What was Kaleb Smith Jr.'s military position?
3. Why did Kaleb Smith Jr. join the war? How did this affect his fearlessness?
4. Do you think the dad knew he was aiming at his son before shooting? Why or why not?
5. What emotions do you think the dad felt after realizing he shot his son?
Outline
I. Opening scene in jail cell
II. Background of Kaleb Smith Jr.
III. First force of men attack and retreat
IV. Determined speech and all out attack
V. Kaleb Jr. shot
VI. Kaleb Sr. rushes toward flag / son
VII. Kaleb Sr. reaches son, - troops capture flag
VIII. Ending overheard from prison guard
Props
Civil War musket, clothing of a soldier, pictures from battles
Answers
1. No older than sixteen.
2. Kaleb Jr. was a lieutenant
3. His dad left to fight in the war and his mother died of the pox? He had nothing to lose or fear.
4. Students give reasonable answer and basis why.
5. Students give reasonable emotions - fear, sad, scared, etc.
Source: http://www.uscivilwar.com/uscw/usFeatz.cfm?dwFeatureID=1