In Company E of the Thirty-first Louisiana, says an Atlanta writer, there was a man named Green. The boys went into service in the spring of ’62, and for some time had very little to do. Green soon made himself one of the most popular men in camp. He was something of a humorist and his talent as a storyteller made him always entertaining. 

When the Thirty-first sniffed gunpowder for the first time Green turned up missing. He had a fit and was unable to handle his gun. In the second engagement the poor fellow had a spasm and was again kept away from the front. The soldiers began to have their suspicions and when their unfortunate comrade fell a victim to the rheumatism on the eve of another fight they spoke out in pretty plain terms. 

Green was so bedeviled by the boys that he was driven nearly crazy. Just about that time there was a call for volunteers to go up the Yazoo River on a gunboat expedition. To the surprise of all, the chronic invalid volunteered. The expedition lasted about six weeks and no fighting occurred. Green, however, swelled with pride at the thought of his soldierly conduct, and bragged so lustily that his companions nicknamed him “Gunboat” Green. By degrees it began to dawn upon him that he was the butt of his regiment, and then he became sulky and disagreeable. 

But the time came when the gallant Louisianians had something more important to think of than “Gunboat” Green. They were driven into the “bull-pen” at Vicksburg by Grant’s swarming legions and every soldier had to do his duty like a little man. The corps to which Green belonged was stationed behind a crescent-shaped breastwork seven miles in length. The land in front for some distance was level, and then sloped down to a ravine and up a steep hill. The timber had all been cut down, so there was a clean sweep. 

One afternoon the Federals charged the breastworks. They placed their sharpshooters on the hill to pick off the Confederates when they showed their heads. The Federals charged in four columns, four deep. The Confederates remained in the pits four deep, and held their fire until the Federals were within sixty yards. Then the front rank opened fire and fell back, and the second, and so on until every gun had been emptied with terrible execution. Finally the assaulting party fell back behind the timber that had been cut down to await the coming of night. In this position they were protected except from the top of the breastworks, and the Confederates would not take that exposed position on account of the sharpshooters. 

At this juncture an event of the most unexpected and paralyzing nature occurred. Down in the pits a crowd of rough fellows were tormenting “Gunboat” Green. One man told him that he was looking rather pale and advised him to go to the hospital. “Never mind about my looks,” said Green, “I have a presentiment that I am going to be killed.”
“By a nervous shock,” suggested a corporal, and there was a laugh.
The object of all this ridicule gritted his teeth and his eyes flashed fire.
“I’ll swear boys,” said one of the company, “that if a bullet is found in ‘Gunboat’ Green after his death it will be one that he swallowed.” 

Stung beyond endurance by these taunts he seized his musket and ran at full speed until he reached the top of the breastworks. Here he had the Federals behind the fallen timber in full view and easy range. For a moment both armies looked on in breathless wonder. On that seven mile line of breastworks, Green was the only man to be seen. Then sharpshooters commenced firing at him, but nothing could move him. With a white face, blazing eyes, and nerves stretched to their utmost tension, he took aim and fired. Time and again he reloaded and pulled the trigger, each time hitting his man. By this time the sharpshooters were firing 1,000 shots per minute at him. Some of the Confederates begged him to come down, but an officer said:
“Let the blanked fool alone. They can’t hit him.” 

The men in the pits threw up a lot of cartridges, and Green continued to fire at regular intervals. Bullets flew fast and thick as hail, but not a hair of his head was harmed. Finally the brigade that he was slaughtering in his merciless fashion could stand it no longer. They broke and ran up the hill, losing several more on the way up, under the fire of the solitary soldier on the breastworks. 

“Gunboat” Green was the hero of the hour. Officers and privates surged around him, shaking him by the hand and applauding his bravery. Just before dark the Federals retired and a party of Louisianians went out to look at the result of Green’s bloody marksmanship. It was found by actual count that his musket had killed seventy-two Federals. Green insisted that he had killed ninety, but it was thought that some of them were only wounded and their friends ahd dragged them off. About the seventy-two dead men there could be no doubt. They were there, and as their bodies lay in a place where there was not a single corpse before Green commenced firing, it was plain enough that he had brought them down. 

A special report concerning Green was sent to the commanding general that night. The result would doubtless have been a promotion but for the fact that on the following morning “Gunboat” Green was nowhere to be found. Later it was ascertained that he had deserted and joined Grant’s army. Nothing further was ever heard from him.