Prelude -- The Drum's Story
Yes, I am a drum, and a very old drum at that. My leather ears are twisted and brown. My shiny sides are scratched and marred. My once beautiful white head is patched and blood-stained. Yet, I am loved and tenderly cared for; have my own cosy corner in the attic and am better provided for than many of the brave men who fought for the Union. So I am content. I have lived my life. We ever ready for duty. Made lots of noise. Have led men on the march and in battle. Now I am laid aside, growing old like all the boys of '61.
Drum Taps in Dixie, Memories of a Drummer boy, 1861-1865, by Delavan S. Miller, Hungerford-Holbrook Co., Watertown, New York 1905, p. vii.