At this
time he was about twenty-five years old, with long black hair, that
curled, a gentle and attractive black eye that seemed to sparkle with
love rather than chivalry, and were it not for a young moustache and
goatee that he usually wore, he would have passed for a beautiful girl.
In his manner he was as simple and guileless as a child, and generous
almost to a fault. Enlisting in the First Arkansas Regiment as a private
soldier, and serving for twelve months as orderly sergeant; at the
reorganization he was elected colonel of the regiment, and afterwards,
on account of merit and ability, was commissioned brigadier-general;
distinguishing himself for conspicuous bravery and gallantry on every
battlefield, and being "scalped" by a minnie ball at Richmond, Kentucky--
which scar marks its furrow on top of his head today. In every battle
he was engaged in, he led his men to victory, or held the enemy at bay,
while the surge of battle seemed against us; he always seemed the
successful general, who would snatch victory out of the very jaws of
defeat. In every battle, Polk's brigade, of Cleburne's division,
distinguished itself, almost making the name of Cleburne as the Stonewall
of the West. Polk was to Cleburne what Murat or the old guard was to
Napoleon.
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