Notice of Promotion(s)

[Pony Soldier]

Gentlemen of the Army of the Tennessee

I take great pleasure in announcing the recent promotion of two of our rising stars in the Army of the Tennessee!

First, Major Jason Fitch, 4th Brigade, Ist Divison, XV Corps, has attained the rank of Lieutenant Colonel having served faithfully and well on the western battlefields!

Second, that grizzled old(ish) warrior, Captain Einar Jon Masson, Artillery Brigade, 2nd Division (The Lost Tribe), XVI Corps has achieved the rank of Major having returned to the lists to show us young(ish) guns how it's done!

Please join me in congratulating these seasoned fighters on their accomplishments. Also, let us all graciously accept the copious amounts of eggnog and Gluhwein they will doubtless provide one and all at their promotion party.

Merry Christmas to all of you!

v/r

Dan Peterjohn
Major General, USV
Army of the Tennessee
Chief of Staff

[Joe Meyer]

My congratulations to each of these officers for their persistence and determination in taking the fight to the Rebels, and for their very well-earned field promotions. Of course my words of praise do come at a price, and that means mugs and tumblers!

This reminds me of the time I had marched with my small division towards Crampton's Gap in '62 and got ambushed by an entire Rebel corps! Jackson's Corps, I think! The boys were mightily shocked to see so many graybacks coming our way, but I cooly gave the command for my two brigades to shake out in a line running along a low stone wall parallel with the road. The wall, in turn, was fronted by a shallow, marshy stream. The two batteries set up on either side of the road, and I had my flank regiments thrown back at a 45 degree angle. Them Rebs paused for a brief moment, watching us quickly and expertly coming into line, and then looked towards their commander sitting up there on his horse on a little knoll to their left. That field turned real quiet all of a sudden with that Reb commander studying us and us studying them. I put down my glasses and nodded to my brigade commanders. Without a word, but as if on cue, every man jack of my boys cocked their rifles at the same time as the gunners rammed home thier rounds into twelve, mean-looking Napoleon barrels. The sound carried all the way acoss the field.

Them Rebs all looked back at our line and then each other, thinking the same thing. The Reb commander came down off that knoll and then rode right along the front of all his line, looking everyone in the eye. Then he rode back to the center, dismounted and called a huddle with his own division and brigade commanders. They was at it for about two to three minutes, glancing back towards us frequently as they talked, some of them gesturing with their hands thrown up in front of them, some shaking their heads and taking off their hats.

I seized the moment by having each battery let loose a single round in a special drill that I had the gunners learning all month long. They triangulated their shots to meet in the air, exactly over the heads of the confab group, a distinct, clanging ping occurring right over their heads! That did it. Them Rebs packed up, turned around and double-timed it out of there like they'd been called back home for dinner! And that Reb commander, he mounted back up, swung his horse around facing us, drew his sword and gave us the smartest salute I've ever seen. Then he wheeled back around and followed his men right out of there.

We named that little episode "The Cocked and Knocked Affair!"

[J. Sheffield]

Congratulations to both these fine officers, well done gentlemen.