Full Text of The Bugle Boy
I had in my regiment a little bugler. I had often noticed him as being too delicate for the life he lived; but he was born in the regiment. His father had been killed in action, and his mother died six months later.
About two years later, when Willie was fourteen years old, several acts of insubordination had been brought to my notice. I determined to make an example of the very next offense by having the culprit whipped.
One morning it was reported that during the night, the targets had been thrown down and mutilated. On investigation, the act was traced to a man or men in the very tent where Willie Holt was billeted. The whole lot were instantly put under arrest, to be tried by court martial. They were asked to produce the guilty men; and at last I spoke: “If any one of you who slept in number four tent last night will come forward and take his punishment like a man, the rest will get off free; but if not, there remains no alternative but to punish you all.”
For a couple of minutes there was dead silence; then from the prisoners, where his slight form had been almost hidden, Willie Holt came forward. His face was very pale; a fixed intensity of purpose stamped on every line of it.
“Colonel, you have passed your word that if any one of those who slept in number four tent last night comes forward to take his punishment the rest will get off scot-free. I am ready, sir; and may I take it now?”
I was speechless: then in a fury of anger and disgust turned on the prisoners. “Is there no man among you worthy of the name? Are you all cowards enough, to let this lad suffer for your sins? You know as well as I that he is guiltless.” But they stood sullen and silent.
Never had I found myself so uncomfortable. I knew my word must stand, and the lad knew it too. Sick at heart I gave the order, and he was led away for punishment. Bravely he stood, with his back bared, as one — two — three strokes descended. At the fourth a faint moan escaped his lips, and before the fifth fell, a cry burst from the group of prisoners who had been forced to witness the scene; and, with one bound, Jim Sykes, the black sheep of the regiment, seized the whip and gasped, “Stop it, Colonel, stop it, and tie me up instead. He didn’t do it, I did”; and with a convulsed and anguished face he flung his arms around the boy.
Safe
ainting and almost speechless, Willie lifted his eyes to the man’s face and smiled — such a smile! “No, Jim,” he whispered, “you are safe now; the Colonel’s word will stand.” His head fell forward — he had fainted.
The next day, as I was heading for the hospital tent where the boy lay, I met the doctor. “How is the lad?” I asked.
“Sinking, Colonel,” he said quietly.
“What!” I exclaimed, horrified beyond words.
“Yes, the shock of yesterday was too much for his strength. I have known for months that it was only a question of time.”
The dying lad lay propped up on the pillows, and half-kneeling at his side was Jim Sykes. The change in the boy’s face startled me; it was deathly white, but his great eyes were shining with a strange light.
At that moment the kneeling man lifted his head, and I saw drops of sweat as he muttered brokenly, “Why did you do it, lad? Why did you do it?”
“I wanted to take it for you, Jim,” Willie’s weak voice answered tenderly. “I thought if I did it might help you to understand why Christ died for you. He died for you because He loved you as I do, only He loves you more. I only suffered for one sin, but the Lord Jesus Christ took the punishment for all the sins you have ever committed. The punishment for your sins was death, and He died for you.”
“Christ has nothing to do with me. I’m a bad one.”
“But He died to save bad ones — just them. He says, ‘I came not to call the righteous but sinners,’ and ‘Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow.’ Jim, will the Lord have died in vain? He has poured out His precious life-blood for you. He is knocking at the door of your heart; won’t you let Him in?”
The lad’s voice was fading, but he laid his hand gently on the man’s bowed head and sang:
Just as I am without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me.
And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God—I come.
It thrilled the heart of every man who heard it. Then gradually the light faded from the shining eyes, and the brave spirit had fled to God. Jim Sykes came. I came. Will you come? Colonel Hardress
“He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). “Christ … suffered for sins, the just for the unjust that He might bring us to God” (1 Peter 3:18). “The Son of God who loved me, and gave Himself for me” (Galatians 2:20).