The Story

The game was originally to be called "The Birth of Lee."  However, in early testing, this name was unpopular and uninspiring.  Searching around for a more exciting title, I came across this poem by Edmund Clarence Stedman.

It's got that great refrain in the middle from which the game's title comes.  It also has the benefit of being an actual quote from Kearny for the day as well as the "lovely fighting" one.  Kearny was a fierce fighter who was completely disgusted with McClellan (McClellan neglected to recognize Kearny's Division's performance at Williamsburg and later at Seven Pines).  Kearny believed that his promotion to Division commander was the only sound thing McClellan had done.  He referred to the "Little Napoleon" as the "Virginia Creeper."

Kearny at Seven Pines
SO that soldierly legend is still on its journey,— 
  That story of Kearny who knew not to yield! 
'T was the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and Birney, 
  Against twenty thousand he rallied the field. 
Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest,         5
  Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak and pine, 
Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest,— 
  No charge like Phil Kearny's along the whole line. 
When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn, 
  Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our ground,  10
He rode down the length of the withering column, 
  And his heart at our war-cry leapt up with a bound; 
He snuffed, like his charger, the wind of the powder,— 
  His sword waved us on and we answered the sign: 
Loud our cheer as we rushed, but his laugh rang the louder,  15
  "There 's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole line!" 
How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten 
  In the one hand still left,—and the reins in his teeth! 
He laughed like a boy when the holidays heighten, 
  But a soldier's glance shot from his visor beneath.  20
Up came the reserves to the mellay infernal, 
  Asking where to go in,—through the clearing or pine? 
"O, anywhere! Forward! 'T is all the same, Colonel: 
  You 'll find lovely fighting along the whole line!" 
O, evil the black shroud of night at Chantilly,  25
  That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried! 
Foul, foul sped the bullet that clipped the white lily, 
  The flower of our knighthood, the whole army's pride! 
Yet we dream that he still,—in that shadowy region 
  Where the dead form their ranks at the wan drummer's sign,—  30
Rides on, as of old, down the length of his legion, 
  And the word still is Forward! along the whole line.