Young Abner showed an early interest in Spanish and French literature, art, history, mathematics, and military history while attending the Auburn Academy near his home in Cooperstown, New York. His special interest, however, was browsing through his father's newspaper library and reading the exchange copies from other newspapers. He later confessed that, "he was brought up at his father's Auburn newspaper."(2) Abner delighted in hearing the stories retold of his grandfather's experiences in the American Revolutionary War serving under "Mad" Anthony Wayne, and expressed such an interest in military matters that his father enrolled him, upon graduation from Auburn Academy, in the Military Academy at Cooperstown, New York. Abner Doubleday was admitted to the United States Military Academy and became a cadet there on September 1, 1838. The records at West Point indicate that

Abner Doubleday was correct in his deportment, social and communicative, with his companions, unobtrusive in conversation, yet freely taking part therein, and quite entertaining. He enjoyed a good anecdote and had some of his own to tell. He was rather averse to outdoor sports and retiring in his manner. He was a diligent and thoughtful student, something of a critic, and fond of questions in moral philosophy. He was free from the use of tobacco, from profane words, or any vicious habits.(3)

On July 1, 1842, he graduated from the Point, twenty-fourth in a class of fifty-six cadets. Included in this class were such notables as William S. Rosecrans, John Pope, Daniel Harvey Hill, Lafayette McLaws, Earl Van Dorn, and James Longstreet.

Thus commences the first chapter of this book: Doubleday's reminiscences of his graduation and first assignment as a brevet second lieutenant in the 3rd Regiment of Artillery, stationed in garrison duty at Fort Johnston, North Carolina. Doubleday mysteriously titled this portion of his reminiscences "Chapter Two," suggesting that another chapter recounting his childhood must have been originally included. This chapter cannot now be located, but surely might have been useful in shedding some light on the origins of the game of baseball.

He remained at Fort Johnston until 1844, when he was sent to Fort McHenry, Maryland, then to Fort Moultrie, South Carolina, and ending up in early 1845 assigned to the garrison of Fort Preble, Maine.

His first opportunity for battlefield action came in 1845, when he was sent to Corpus Christi, Texas, as a part of General Zachary Taylor's Army of Occupation. After facing the cold blue south Texas northers that blew in across Nueces Bay in the winter of 1845-1846, he advanced with Taylor's Army to the Rio Grande. Doubleday was stationed at Point Isabel to man the earthen walls of Fort Polk on May 8, 1846, and from there could hear the boom of Major Ringgold's field batteries at Palo Alto. The opening guns of the Mexican War were being fired, but even during the peril of that time, Doubleday paused to record an amusing anecdote. He remembered with glee the chaos that resulted when the officers of the United States Navy attempted to drill their salt water tars in the unfamiliar field maneuvers of infantry troops. The Home Fleet, anchored offshore, had sent their marines and most of their sailors to reinforce the garrison at Point Isabel against a possible Mexican attack that never materialized.

Doubleday quickly developed the nickname "Forty-Eight Hours" from his fellow officers for his methodical and deliberate way of doing things; they also noted, however, that he was quiet and cool in times of danger and could not be rattled. This latter assessment of the man was clearly evident in his narration of the attack and capture of Monterrey, Mexico, from September 21 to 25, 1846. As part of General William J. Worth's forces, he participated in the daring attack on the western side of the city. Doubleday's reminiscences of his own participation in these actions is the veritable model of modesty and understatement.

Doubleday's narration of the campaign in northern Mexico could be dramatic, however; his account of the fear and tension in Monterrey just prior to the battle of Buena Vista, when word was received in that city of a large Mexican Army bearing down on Taylor's forces in Saltillo, is gripping.

Doubleday, escorting Taylor's heavy artillery from Monterrey, was ordered to remain at Rinconada Pass and hold that narrow stricture in the mountains as a possible avenue of retreat for the American Army. Thus, Doubleday missed the battle, but was ordered up to the field the next day, just in time to see the retreat of the Mexican forces.

During the remainder of the war with Mexico, Doubleday was stationed at Saltillo, Mexico, and favors the reader with his accounts of the misdeeds of a mid-nineteenth century Mexican city under the pressing yoke of an American military government. His account documents the unrest among American occupation forces along the northern line. Taylor's forces were anxious to regain the offensive, and this anxiety coupled with a less-than-strict enforcement of military discipline resulted in a mutiny among volunteer forces and several lethal duels among the men of the officer corps. Alas, the glory for the conquest of Mexico had shifted from northern to central Mexico and General Winfield Scott was placed in command.

For those interested in Mexico, Doubleday offers an account of Mexican life and society in northern Mexico during these turbulent times. The great fear among all classes of Mexicans was not the American occupation, but rather the extensive raids by warring bands of Indians from across the Rio Grande. They were disgusted with the lack of protection from these raids by their government far away in Mexico City.

The end of the war found Doubleday briefly stationed at Fort Brown, Texas, acting as quartermaster in charge of the mountains of surplus army supplies and equipment that were flowing out of Mexico with the returning troops. Under the command of the eccentric Thomas West Sherman, Fort Brown became a veritable prison for the officers and enlisted men of the garrison. A word of disfavor from the commanding officer became grounds for numerous charges to be lodged against the officers and men of the post. For refusing to obey an order to arrest civilians loitering in the vicinity of the post, Doubleday was arrested by Sherman for "the first and only time in my career." Doubleday had, on the face of the matter, violated the 9th Article of War, and might have had to face serious consequences: "Any officer or soldier who . . . shall disobey lawful command of his superior officer, shall suffer death. . . ."(4) However, an order to arrest a civilian by the military was clearly an illegal order, not a "lawful command." Doubleday most likely could have established his innocence in a court martial, and Sherman probably recognized that fact. Within a month, Doubleday was ordered to report to Fort Columbus, New York, and Sherman ordered to Fort Preble, Maine. Sherman evidently acknowledged the weakness of his case by dropping the charges against Doubleday.

While at Fort Columbus, located on an island in New York harbor, Doubleday met the soon-to-be-famous Thomas Jonathan "Stonewall" Jackson, and documented several accounts of the eccentric nature of this health-conscious officer. It was during this time that Doubleday became involved in an incident during the funeral ceremonies in New York City of General William J. Worth: the anecdote of the little Jewish tailor from the Bronx, a story that is sure to bring a smile to the reader.

But Doubleday, a speaker of Spanish and by now an experienced traveler in Mexico, was soon sent on a return mission to that country. In the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which ended open hostilities between the United States and Mexico, each country agreed to indemnify their own citizens for damages resulting from the war. A fraudulent claim for damages supposedly done to a silver mine in Mexico by the troops of Santa Anna had been levied upon the United States by a certain George Gardiner under the provisions of this treaty. Doubleday was appointed by the United States Senate as a commissioner to investigate the so-called Gardiner Mine Claim and sent as a member of a commission to investigate the mine site near the city of San Luis Potosi. His lively narration of this trip into a country still seething with hate for Americans after the late war and the unrest in the state of San Luis Potosi in the midst of revolution makes for exciting reading. A member of the commission, Joseph Davis Howell, son-in-law of the famous Mississippian Jefferson Davis, created an incident in Mexico City during this trip that resulted in riot. But the commission was able to complete its mission and returned to the United States in time to testify in the criminal proceedings against Gardiner.

After this mission to Mexico, Doubleday was again sent to active duty against the hostile Plains Indians of Texas in 1854. He was ordered to Fort Duncan at Eagle Pass, Texas, on the Rio Grande. As a signatory of The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the United States had promised to keep Indian war parties from crossing from the United States to violate the territorial integrity of Mexico. For this purpose, a chain of forts had been built across Texas from north to south to protect the settled portions of Texas and block Indian ingress and egress to Mexico. Military planners had envisioned that such a static line of forts, manned with infantry and artillery, would be sufficient to intercept Indian raiding parties. But such a plan did not take into account the nature of the Indian warrior on horseback, whose raiding parties formed perhaps the finest light cavalry in the world. An infantry soldier on foot was simply no match for an Indian on horseback on the plains of Texas. Raiding parties bypassed the forts on their way to and from Mexico and into eastern Texas. Doubleday saw no fighting at this site, but his account of a soldier's life on the Texas border is a valuable reminiscence. The inadequate protection of the Texas border against Indian raids by the United States Government was a constant source of complaint by Texans to Washington. These complaints seemed to fall mostly on deaf ears, as little was done to guard effectively the frontier against incessant Indian depredations. This lack of protection was the first reason cited in the Ordinance of Secession, passed on March 5, 1861 by the Texas Legislature, removing Texas from the Union: "...Whereas, the Federal government has failed to accomplish the purposes of the compact of union between these States, in giving protection either to the persons of our people upon an exposed frontier or to the property of our citizens...."(5)

The last active phase of the Seminole War flared up again in 1856, and Doubleday was sent with the army to Florida on a mission to capture the few remaining Seminoles there and remove them from the state. Another fruitless and frustrating campaign began as heavily burdened United States infantry soldiers attempted to pursue the fleet-footed Seminoles through the heavily wooded tropical forests, savannahs, and swamps of their ancestral homeland. Doubleday's sympathy for the plight of the Florida Indian is evident in his anecdote on the surrender of a Seminole family and their exile to Arkansas.

Doubleday, who had himself been exiled from his country by tours of duty in Texas and Florida, rejoiced to receive an assignment that would place him in gentler society—as second in command of Fort Sumter, South Carolina, in 1860. But he had been sent into harm's way, as the fort was destined to become a focus of world attention in the upcoming War for Southern Independence. The first shots of the war were fired there on April 12, 1861, with Doubleday aiming the first Union gun of the war. The shot was on the mark, but "bounded off from the sloping roof of the battery opposite without producing any apparent effect."(6)

So the Doubleday narrative which constitutes this book comes to an abrupt end. Doubleday wrote a book about his experiences in the siege of Fort Sumter, Reminiscences of Forts Sumter and Moultrie in 1860-1861, which was published in 1876.

Doubleday went on to achieve fame in this internecine struggle. He commanded a division at the battle of South Mountain, replacing his superior, General John Porter Hatch, who was severely wounded while leading a charge. Doubleday continued to command a division at the battle of Sharpsburg and for his bravery was promoted to the rank of major general of volunteers. Doubleday led his division at the ill-fated battle of Fredericksburg, and a corps at the battle of Chancellorsville. General Doubleday fought his most desperate, and as he remembered later, most bitter struggle at Gettysburg. With the death of General John Reynolds on July 1, 1863, General Doubleday led the First Corps in a sanguinary and desperate struggle against the Confederate forces of Generals A. P. Hill and Richard Ewell. Doubleday felt that the gallantry and leadership shown by him on this day fairly entitled him to continue to lead First Corps. But he was mortified to find, that evening, that General Meade had replaced him with a junior officer, John Newton. Meade apparently had made this decision without regard to the performance of Doubleday's command. An embittered Doubleday returned to command his division, and rendered signal service to the Union cause as a part of the forces which repulsed the Virginia Division of George Pickett on July 3, 1863. Doubleday recounted the highlights of his actions during the Civil War in his book, Chancellorsville and Gettysburg, published in 1882.

Gettysburg marked the last active duty by Doubleday in the Civil War; he was ordered to Washington shortly thereafter to preside over a military commission to investigate fraudulent contractors, deserters, and bounty jumpers.

With the end of hostilities, Doubleday's rank reverted to lieutenant colonel in the Regular Army and he was sent with his regiment, the 17th Infantry, to command the post at Galveston, Texas.

He was detailed as a member of a retiring board in New York City, in 1868, and presided over the cases of General Joseph Hooker and others.

Doubleday made his last tour of duty to Texas as colonel of the 24th Infantry, one of the first black regiments in the United States Army, assigned to garrison Fort McKavett, in western Texas. The frontier had been somewhat tamed by that time, but the perils of moving fragile household goods to the frontier of Texas were still present. General Zenas Bliss remembered that

Doubleday remained at Fort McKavett until 1872, when the regiment was ordered to march overland to Brownsville, Texas, to relieve the 10th Infantry, which had been stationed in that city. On the march, Doubleday was "stung in the night by some venomous reptile"8 resulting in a injury that impaired his already fragile health. The ailing Doubleday was offered an indefinite sick leave, during which he would receive full pay. But the old veteran could not reconcile the notion of receiving pay without work and retired from the service on December 11, 1873, with more than thirty years of service to his country.

Doubleday spent his declining years in Mendham, New Jersey, occasionally traveling to New York. A newspaper reporter recounted his meeting with Doubleday and gives us these impressions of the general, now in the autumn of his life:

General Abner Doubleday who fired from Fort Sumter the first gun against the confederacy, was seen quietly strolling down Broadway the other day.... He is on the retired list of the army, and rarely ever wears a uniform. Though somewhat advanced in years he is well preserved. His face is clean shaven, except for a gray moustache. His hair is white and thin. Not quite six feet high, he is broad shouldered, and has a well-knit frame, fast losing its symmetry from corpulency. The hat he wears has a military appearance. It has a somewhat funnel-shaped crown and the brim is stiff. The Grand Army men wears hats like it, except that theirs are slouched. His long black frock coat flaps open and reveals a massive chest....(9)

It was during his last years that Doubleday recorded the reminiscences and anecdotes found in this book. The manuscript must have been written mostly from memory; his memory was excellent, but he did on a few occasions err in historic fact. The manuscript ends mysteriously with the firing on Fort Sumter, due perhaps to the loss or pilferage of the general's papers, but most likely due to his coverage of this and the Civil War phases of his career in his two other volumes.

Throughout his life, he had been a collector of anecdotes and stories, and the last chapter of this book is dedicated to the perpetuation of his stories of the great, the near great, and the forgotten military men of the United States. It is in this light-hearted spirit that the editor has dared to include in the endnotes some additional anecdotes of the military found in other sources. But the fun-loving and gentle Doubleday would surely have approved of the liberties taken. Abner Doubleday passed from this life on January 26, 1893, and would have most likely receded in the conscious memory of Americans if his name had not become associated with the invention of the great American pastime, baseball. How did this association come to be?

Albert G. Spalding, the sporting-goods mogul, who organized in the late nineteenth century the company that still bears his name, was a rabid supporter of baseball and had argued for years that baseball was a uniquely American game, having been invented in this country. After a world tour to promote the game in 1888 and 1889, he was convinced, having seen no other game played in other countries that "bore even the slightest resemblance"(10) to baseball. After an article appearing in 1905 authored by the British born Henry Chadwick claimed that baseball had evolved from "the English game of rounders," the baseball controversy began to heat up. An angry Spalding responded to the article by describing rounders as "that asinine pastime" which was about "as exciting as a game of Ring-Around-the-Rosy." With vital American interests at stake, Spalding convinced the baseball league presidents to convene a commission charged with determining the origins of the grand old game. The commission, which would become known as the Mills Commission, was chaired by Albert Mills. Mills was an avid supporter of baseball and had a record of service in the Union Army during the Civil War, having risen to the rank of colonel. Mills organized and even played in many of the baseball games staged between units of Union soldiers. Other members of the commission included James E. Sullivan, Alfred J. Reach, George Wright, N. E. Young, Senator Morgan G. Bulkeley from Connecticut, and Senator Arthur P. Gorman from Maryland. Each member of the committee was either intimately associated with baseball, being either a team or league president, or was associated with Albert Spalding's sporting-goods business. Spalding was thus in a position to exert influence on the findings of the commission, to say the least.

However, the findings of the Mills Commission were probably influenced the most by Mills' friendship with and admiration of Abner Doubleday. Mills met Doubleday in 1873 at a meeting of the Lafayette Post of the Grand Army of the Republic in New York City. Colonel Mills was charmed by General Doubleday, and a fast friendship developed. With Doubleday's death in 1893, Mills organized a memorial service in which Doubleday's body lay in state in the New York City Hall and was instrumental in having Doubleday's body interred at Arlington National Cemetery. Thus it was no surprise that the Mills Commission concluded, in the latter days of 1907, that baseball had originated in the United States and that the game was devised by Abner Doubleday. Unfortunately, the evidence that the Mills Commission had supposedly amassed to support these two conclusions had been unfortunately consumed in a fire that destroyed The American Sports Publishing Company. Perhaps that is what became of the section of Doubleday's manuscript titled "Chapter 1" which is now missing from the General's papers and might have explained his connection to baseball. A letter from Albert Graves, a resident of Cooperstown, New York, and neighbor of Doubleday, is the only documentation remaining of Doubleday's connection to baseball. Graves asserted that Doubleday had taught the Cooperstown boys his modifications of a game known as "town ball." The changes to town ball included reducing the number of players, assigning each player a location in the field, and replacing the wooden posts designated as bases by flat stones.

Thus a modest American war hero, who neither drank, smoked, nor engaged in any other dissipative activities, the beaux ideal American of the Victorian Age, would ironically become principally remembered as the "father of baseball."

The voices of today's sports historians reverberate in strident and accusing tones to attack the claims of the Mills Commission and even the character of this kind and gentle man. Doubleday, it must be remembered, never made any claims to the authorship of the game. A reading of Doubleday's account of his role in the attack on Monterrey must surely serve to convince anyone of his modesty, and, I think, can be used to reasonably infer that he would have been just as reluctant to mention his connection to baseball.

Debunking the supposed Doubleday "myths" on baseball has become a national pastime for modern sports intellectuals, creating an unpleasant odor that has permeated even to a regional level.(11) Sports writers, functioning in our new order of "political correctness" now claim that the first game of baseball played in Texas, supposedly at Galveston, was not organized by Doubleday while stationed there in 1867! Doubleday was indeed stationed in Galveston on this date, serving as colonel of the 17th Infantry, sent to impose military rule on a defeated nation. But the case against Doubleday's organization of Texas baseball is certainly both circumspect and circumstantial; however, I feel sure that Doubleday himself, exercising his strong Christian virtue of modesty, would have willingly forgiven his critics—it matters not who is credited with organizing the Galvestonians into a game.

But as long as the subject continues to interest sports historians, I challenge them to prove that the first game of baseball played in Texas was not organized by Abner Doubleday and played in Brownsville, Texas, in 1848. After all, he was stationed there for several months during that year.

Quien Sabe? But I digress from my real purpose in preparing these memoirs for publication. Through these pages, I have hoped to give you, the reader, a glimpse of the Old Army and the strongly individualistic men that filled its ranks. What better way to view this thin blue line of heroes than through the eyes of a wonderful storyteller: Abner Doubleday.

Praise be to his memory.