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[ SECOND EDITION ]
C .
co. aytch;
MAURY GRAYS,
First Tennessee Regiment;
OR,
A SIDE SHOW OF THE BIG SHOW.
By SAM. R. WATKINS,
COLl'MBIA. TENN.
' Quaeque ipse miserima virfi. El Quorum pars iiiinnid fiii.'
ec£
CHATTANOOGA, TENN. :
TIMES PRINTING COMPANT.
1900.
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PUBLISHER'S NOTICE.
Eighteen years ago, the first edition of this book, "Co. H., First Tennessee Regiment," was published by the author, Mr. Sam. R. Watkins, of Columbia, Tenn. A limited edition of two thousand copies was printed and sold. For nearly twenty years this work has been out of print and the owners of copies of it hold them so precious that it is impossible to purchase one. To meet a demand, so strong as to be almost irresistable the Chattanooga Times has printed a second edition of 2000 copies, which to soldiers of the Army of the Tennessee and the Army of the Cumberland, between whom many battles were fought, it will prove of intense interest, serving to re- call many scenes and incidents of battle field and camp in which they were the chief actors. To them and to all other readers we respectfully commend this book as being the best and most impersonal history of any army ever written.
The Chattanooga Times. Chattanooga, Tenn., Oct, 1, 1900.
H
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*0 THE MEMORY OF MY DEAD
' COMRADES OF
THE MAURY GRAYS. AND THE FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT, WHO DIED IN DEFENSE OF SOUTHERN HOMES AND LIBERTIES . ALSO TO MY LIVING COMRADES.
NEARLY ALL OF
WHOM SHED THEIR
BLOOD IN DEFENSE
OF THE SAME
CAUSE, THIS BOOK
IS RESPECTFULLY
DEDICATED BY THE
AUTHOR
A TYPICAL CONFEDERATE SOLDI KR.
PREFACE.
"Co. Aytch." — This week's Herald contains the last num- ber of "Co. Aytch" that will be published in the paper. The generals, and President, and Vice-President, and other high officials have published their accounts of the war, but Sam Wat- kins is the first high private who has written up the common soldier side of the matter. In big, gilt-edge books, the general, the President, and the Vice-President, tell about their plans, their battle, their retreats, their measures, and their ideas, and not a word about what the poor, sore-footed, hungry, and naked soldier felt.
In "Co. Aytch" we see the old "webfoot," dressed in a dirty, greasy, gray suit — or rather non-suit — a cotton blanket thrown across his shoulder, and fastened under his cartridge- box belt ; a greasy, dirty haversack hanging down — very thin and flabby; with shoes of untanned leather. There he goes, foot- sore, tired, and hungry, but chipper and sassy, and ready for the battle.
In "Co. Aytch" we see this same "webfoot" in camp, cook- ing his rations — corn meal bread, corn meal coffee, corn meal soup, blue beef, with not an eye of grease on it. He lies down on the cold ground, in an old thin blanket, and shivers through the night.
In "Co. Aytch" we hear this "webfoot" talking to his com- rades, cheering their drooping spirits, discussing the situation, defending the general, hoping for final victory, and a glorious return home to father, mother, and sweetheart.
In "Co. Aytch" we see this same "webfoot," hungry, raggt d. dirty, and footsore, "on the battle's perilous edge," the light of victory in his eye, a gun with a gleaming bayonet in his hands, springing forward like a deer, a ringing shout upon his lips, rushing up to the breastworks, behind which belch Napoleon
Vi PREFACE
guns and volleys of musketry ; see -him cross the abattis at a bound ; see him as he stands upon the enemy's ramparts, shouting victory !
In "Co. Aytch" we see this same "webfoot" shot down by a minnie ball, and lying,- cold and stark in death, and thrown into a common shallow grave, unhonored, unknown, and unsung, far- away from fond loved ones.
In "Co. Aytch" we see other soldiers, driven by hunger, stealing hogs, others deserting and going home. All this we see in "Co. Aytch."
Every old soldier, and every son of an old soldier, should have a copy of it. — Columbia Herald.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I— Retrospective.
We are one and undivided 9
The bloody chasm 11
Eighteen hundred and sixty-one.... 12
Camp Cheatham 13
On the road 15
Staunton 16
Warm Springs 16
Cheat Mountain 19
Sewell Mountain 21
Romney 22
Standing picket on the Potomac 25
Schwartz and Pflfer 27
The court-martial 27
The death watch 29
Virginia, farewell 30
CHAPTER II— Shiloh.
Shiloh 31
CHAPTER III— Corinth.
Corinth 36
Rowland shot to death 40
Killing a Yankee sharpshooter.. 41
Colonel Field 42
Captain Joe P. Lee 43
Corinth forsaken 43
CHAPTER IV— Tupelo.
Tupelo 44
The court-martial at Tupelo 45
Raiding on roastingears 46
CHAPTER V— Kentucky.
We go into Kentucky 47
The battle of Perryville 49
The retreat out of Kentucky 54
Knoxville 58
Ah, Sneak 59
I jine the cavalry 6C
CHAPTER VI— MURFREESBORO.
Murfreesboro 61
Battle of Murfreesboro 63
Robbing a dead Yankee 66
CHAPTER VII— Shelbyville.
Shelbyville 67
A foot race 67
Eating mussels.. 68
Poor Berry Morgan 69
f£ Wright shot to death with musketry 70
Dave Sublettpromoted 71
Down Duck River in a canoe 74
Shineral Owledowsky 75
CHAPTER VIII— Chattanooga.
Back to Chattanooga 76
Am visited by my father 76
Out a larking 78
Hanging two spies 79
Eating rats 80
Swimming theTenn. with roasting- ears 81
Am detailed to go foraging 81
Please pass the butter 82
We evacuate Chattanooga 84
The bull of the woods 84
The wing of the "Angel of Death".. 87
CHAPTER IX— CHICKAMAUGA.
Battle of Chickamauga
After the battle
A night among the dead
90
92
93
CHAPTER X— Missionary Ridge.
Missionary Ridge 94
Sergeant Tucker and Gen. Wilder .. 95
Moccasin Point 96
Battle of Missionary Ridge 97
Good-bye, Tom Webb 100
The rear guard 101
Chickamauga Station 102
The battle of Cat Creek 103
Ringgold Gap 104
CHAPTER XI— Dalton.
Gen. Joe Johnston takes command.. 106
Commissaries 110
Dalton „ 110
Shooting a deserter Ill
Ten men killed at mourner's-bench 111
Dr. C. T. Quintard 112
Y's, you got my hog 113
Target shooting.. 116
Uncle Zack and Aunt Daphne 117
Red tape 118
I get a furlough 120
CHAPTER XII— Hundred Days'
Battles.
Rocky Face Ridge 122
Falling back 124
Battle of Resacca 125
Adairsville octagon house 128
Kennesaw line 130
Detailed to go into enemy's lines 130
Death of General Leonidas Polk 133
General Lucius E. Polk wounded.... 133
Dead Angle 135
Battle of New Hope Church 144
Battle of Dallas 145
Battle of Zion Church 146
Kingston 147
Cassville 147
On the banks of the Chattahoochee. 148 Removal of Gen. Joe E. Johnston... 149 Gen. Hood takes command 150
CHAPTER XIII— Atlanta.
Hood strikes 152
Killing a Yankee scout 152
An old citizen 154
My friends 156
An army without cavalry 157
Battle of July 23nd, 1864 158
The attack 158
Am promoted 163
28th of July at Atlanta 164
I visit Montgomery 164
The hospital Kit;
The Capitol 167
Am arrested Iti9
Those girls 170
The talisman 170
The brave Captain.. 171
How I got back to Atlanta 172
The death of Tom Tuck's rooster.... 173 Old Joe Brown's pets 175
Vlll
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XIII— Continued.
We go after Stoneman iti;
Bellum Lethale 178
Death of a Yankee Lieutenant 181
Atlanta forsaken 182
CHAPTER XIV— Jo.nesboro.
Battle of Jonesboro 18-1
Death <>f Lieut. John Whittaker 186
Then comes the farce 189
Palmetto 191
.Jeff Davis makes a speech 193
Armistice only in name 194
A scout 195
What is this Rebel doing here? 196
Look (jut. boys 197
Am captured" 198
CHAPTER XV— advance into
Tennessee.
Gen. Hood makes a flank movement 201
We capture Dalton 202
A man in the well 203
Tuscumbia 203
En route for Columbia 204
CHAPTER XVI— Battles in Tennessee.
Columbia 206
A fiasco 207
Franklin 208
Nashville 212
CRAPTER XVII-The Surrender.
The last act of the drama 219
Adieu 221
COMPANY "AYTCH," FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
CHAPTER I.— RETROSPECTIVE.
"we are one axd undivided."
About twenty years ago, I think it was — I won't be certain, though — a man whose name, if I remember correctly, was Wm L. Yancy — I write only from memory, and this was a long time ago — took a strange and peculiar notion that the sun rose in the east and set in the west, and that the compass pointed north and south. jSTow, everybody knew at the time that it was but the idiosyncrasy of an unbalanced mind, and that the United States of America had no north, no south, no east, no west. Well, he began to preach the strange doctrine of there being such a thing. He began to have followers. As you know, it matters not how absurd, ridiculous and preposterous doctrines may be preached there will be some followers. Well, one man by the name of (I think it was) Rhett, said it out loud. He was told to "s-h-e-e." Then another fellow by the name (I remember this one because it sounded like a graveyard) Toombs said so, and he was told to "sh-sh-ee-ee." Then after a while whole heaps of people began to say that they thought that there was a north and a south ; and after a while hundreds and thousands and millions said that there was a south. But they were the persons who lived in the direction that the water courses run. Now, the people who lived where the water courses started from came down to see about it, and they said, "Gents, you are very much mistaken. We came over in the Mayflower, and we used to burn witches for saying that the sun rose in the east and set in the west, because the sun neither rises nor sets, the earth simply turns on its axis, and we know, because we are Pure(i)tans." The spokesman of the party was named (T think I remember his name because it
10 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
always gave me the blues when I heard it) Horrors Greeley ; and another person by the name of Charles Sumner, said there ain't any north or south, east or west, and you shan't say so, either. Xow, the other people who lived in the direction that the water courses run, just raised their bristles and continued saying that there is a north and there is a south. When those at the head of the water courses come out furiously mad, to coerce those in the direction that water courses run, and to make them take it back. Well, they went to gouging and biting, to pulling and scratching at a furious rate. One side elected a captain by the name of Jeff Davis, and known as one-eyed Jeff, and a first lieutenant by the name of Aleck Stephens, commonly styled Smart Aleck. The other side selected as captain a son of Nancy Hanks, of Bowling Green, and a son of old Bob. Lincoln, the rail-splitter, and whose name was Abe. Well, after he was elected captain, they elected as first lieutenant an individual of doubtful blood by l he name of Hannibal Hamlin, being a descendant of the generation of Ham, the bad son of old Noah, who meant to curse him blue, but overdid the thing, and cursed him black.
Well, as I said before, they went to fighting, but old Abe's side got the best of the argument. But in getting the best of the argument they called in all the people and wise men of other nations of the earth, and they, too, said that America had no cardinal points, and that the sun did not rise in the east and set in the west, and that the compass did not point either north or south.
Well, then. Captain Jeff Davis' side gave it up and quit, and they, too, went to saying that there is no north, no south, no east, no west. Well, "us boys" all took a small part in the fracas, and Shep, the prophet, remarked that the day would come when those who once believed that the American continent had cardinal points would be ashamed to own it. That day has arrived. America has no north, no south, no east, no west; the sun rises over the hills and sets over the mountains, the compass just points up and down, and we can laugh now at the absurd notion of there being a north and a south.
\V<-11, reader, let me whisper in your ear. I was in the row,
RETROSPECTIVE. 1 1
and the following pages will tell what part I took in the little unpleasant misconception of there being such a thing as a north and south.
THE BLOODY CHASM.
In these memoirs, after the lapse of twenty years, we pro- pose to fight our "battles o'er again."
To do this is but a pastime and pleasure, as there is nothing that so much delights the old soldier as to revisit the scenes and battle-fields with which he was once so familiar, and to recall the incidents, though trifling they may have been at the time.
The histories of the Lost Cause are all written out by "big bugs,'' generals and renowned historians, and like the fellow who called a turtle a "cooter," being told that no such word as cooter was in Webster's dictionary, remarked that he had as much right to make a dictionary as Mr. Webster or any other man ; so have I to write a history.
But in these pages I do not pretend to write the history of the war. I only give a few sketches and incidents that came under the observation of a "high private" in the rear ranks of the rebel army. Of course the histories are all correct. They tell of great achievements of great men, who wear the laurels of victory ; have grand presents given them ; high positions in civil life ; presidents of corporations ; governors of states ; official positions, etc., and when they die, long obituaries are published, telling their many virtues, their distinguished victories, etc., and when they are buried, the whole country goes in mourning and is called upon the buy an elegant monument to erect over the remains of so distinguished and brave a general, etc. But in the following pages I propose to tell of the fellows who did the shooting and killing, the fortifying and ditching, the sweeping of the streets, the drilling, the standing guard, picket and videt, and who drew (or were to draw) eleven dollars per month and rations, and also drew the ramrod and tore the cartridge. Par- don me should I use the personal pronoun "I" too frequently, as I do not wish to be called egotistical, for I only write of what I saw as an humble private in the rear rank in an infantry regi-
12 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
ment, commonly called "webfoot." Neither do I propose to make this a connected journal, for I write entirely from mem- ory, and you must remember, kind reader, that these things happened twenty years ago, and twenty years is a long time in the life of any individual.
I was twenty-one years old then, and at that time I was not married. Xow I have a house full of young ''rebels," clustering around my knees and bumping against my elbow, while I write these reminiscences of the war of secession, rebellion, state rights, slavery, or our rights in the territories, or by whatever other name it may be called. These are all with the past now, and the North and South have long ago "shaken hands across the bloody chasm." The flag of the Southern cause has been furled never to be again unfurled ; gone like a dream of yester- day, and lives only in the memory of those who lived through those bloody days and times.
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE.
Reader, mine, did you live in that stormy period ? In the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and sixty-one, do you remem- ber those stirring times ? Do you recollect in that year, for the first time in your life, of hearing Dixie and the Bonnie Blue Flag ? Fort Sumter was fired upon from Charleston by troops under General Beauregard, and Major Anderson, of the Federal army, surrendered. The die was cast; war was declared; Lin- coln called for troops from Tennessee and all the Southern states, but Tennessee, loyal to her Southern sister states, passed the ordinance of secession, and enlisted under the Stars and Bars. From that day on, every person almost was eager for the war, and we were all afraid it would be over and we not be in the fight. ( 'ompanies were made up, regiments organized ; left. left, left, was heard from morning till night. By the right flank, file left, march, were familiar sounds. Everywhere could be seen Southern cockades made by the ladies and our sweet- hearts. And some who afterwards became Union men made the most fiery secession speeches. Flags made by the ladies were presented to companies, and to hear the young orators tell of
RETROSPECTIVE. 13
how they would protect that flag, and that they would come back with the flag or come not at all, and if they fell they would fall with their backs to the field and their feet to the foe, would fairly make our hair stand on end with intense patriotism, and we wanted to march right off and whip twenty Yankees. But we soon found out that the glory of war was at home among the ladies and not upon the field of blood and carnage of death, where our comrades were mutilated and torn by shot and shell. And to see the cheek blanch and to hear the fervent prayer, aye, I might say the agony of mind were very different indeed from the patriotic times at home.
CAMP CHEATHAM.
After being drilled and disciplined at Camp Cheatham, under the administrative ability of General R. C. Foster, 3rd, for two months, we, the First, Third and Eleventh Tennessee Regiments — Maney, Brown and Rains — learned of the advance of McClelland' s army into Virginia, toward Harper's Ferry and Bull Run.
The Federal army was advancing all along the line. They expected to march right into the heart of the South, set the negroes free, take our property, and whip the rebels back into the Union. But they soon found that secession was a bigger mouthful than they could swallow at one gobble. They found the people of the South in earnest.
Secession may have been wrong in the abstract, and has been tried and settled by the arbitrament of the sword and bayonet, but I am as firm in my convictions to-day of the right of seces- sion as I was in 1861. The South is our country, the North is the country of those who live there. We are an agricultural people; they are a manufacturing people. They are the de- scendants of the good old Puritan Plymouth Rock stock, and we of the South from the proud and aristocratic stock of Cavaliers. We believe in the doctrine of State rights, they in the doctrine of centralization.
John C. Calhoun, Patrick Henry, and Randolph, of Roan- oke, saw the venom under their wings, and warned the North of
14 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the consequences, but they laughed at them. We only fought for our State rights, they for Union and power. The South fell battling under the banner of State rights, but yet grand and glorious even in death. Xow, reader, please pardon the digres- sion. It is every word that we will say in behalf of the rights of secession in the following pages. The question has been long ago settled and is buried forever, never in this age or generation to be resurrected.
The vote of the regiment was taken, and we all voted to go to Virginia. The Southern Confederacy had established its capital at Richmond.
A man by the name of Jackson, who kept a hotel in Mary- land, had raised the Stars and Bars, and a Federal officer by the name of Ellsworth tore it down, and Jackson had riddled his body with buckshot from a double-barreled shot-gun. First blood for the South.
Everywhere the enemy were advancing; the red clouds of war were booming up everywhere, but at this particular epoch, I refer you to the history of that period.
A private soldier is but an automaton, a machine that works by the command of a good, bad, or indifferent engineer, and is presumed to know nothing of all these great events. His busi- ness is to load and shoot, stand picket, videt, etc., while the offi- cers sleep, or perhaps die on the field of battle and glory, and his obituary and .epitaph but "one" remembered among the slain, but to what company, regiment, brigade or corps he belongs, there is no account ; he is soon forgotten.
A long line of box cars was drawn up at Camp Cheatham one morning in July, the bugle sounded to strike tents and to place everything on board the cars. We old comrades have got- ten together and laughed a hundred times at the plunder and property that we had accumulated, compared with our subse- quent scanty wardrobe. Every soldier had enough blankets. shirts, pants and old boots to last a year, and the empty bottles and jugs would have set up a first-class drug store. In addition, every one of us had his gun, cartridge-box, knapsack and three days' rations, a pistol on each side and a long Bowie knife, that
RETROSPECTIVE. 15
had been presented to us by William Wood, of Columbia, Tenn. We got in and on top of the box cars, the whistle sounded, and amid the waving of hats, handkerchiefs and flags, we bid a long farewell and forever to old Camp Cheatham.
Arriving at Nashville, the citizens turned out en masse to receive- us, and here again we were reminded of the good old times and the "gal we left behind us." Ah, it is worth soldier- ing to receive such welcomes as this.
The Rev. Mr. Elliott invited us to his college grove, where had been prepared enough of the good things of earth to gratify the tastes of the most fastidious epicure. And what was most novel, we were waited on by the most beautiful young ladies (pupils of his school). It was charming, I tell you. Rev. C. D. Elliott was our Brigade Chaplain all through the war, and Dr. C. T. Quintard the Chaplain of the First Tennessee Regi- ment— two of the best men who ever lived. (Quintard is the present Bishop of Tennessee).
OX THE ROAD.
Leaving Nashville, we went bowling along twenty or thirty miles an hour, as fast as steam could carry us. At every town and station citizens and ladies were waving their handkerchiefs and hurrahing for Jeff Davis and the Southern Confederacy. Magnificent banquets were prepared for us all along the entire route. It was one magnificent festival from one end of the line to the other. At Chattanooga, Knoxville, Bristol, Farmville, Lynchburg, everywhere, the same demonstrations of joy and welcome greeted us. Ah, those were glorious times; and you, reader, see why the old soldier loves to live over again that happy period.
But the Yankees are advancing on Manassas. July 21st finds us a hundred miles from that fierce day's battle. That night, after the battle is fought and won, our train draws up at Manassas Junction.
Well, what news ? Every one was wild, nay, frenzied with the excitement of victory, and we felt very much like the "boy the calf had run over." We felt that the war was over, and we would have to return home without even seeing' a Yankee soldier.
16 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
Ah, how we envied those that were wounded. We thought at that time that we would have given a thousand dollars to have been in the battle, and to have had our arm shot off, so we could have returned home with an empty sleeve. But the battle was over, and we left out.
STAUNTON.
From Manassas our train moved on to Staunton, Virginia Here we again went into camp, overhauled kettles, pots, buckets, jugs and tents, and found everything so tangled up and mixed that we could not tell tuther from which.
We stretched our tents, and the soldiers once again felt that restraint and discipline which we had almost forgotten en route t<> this place. But, as the war was over now, our captains, colonels and generals were not "hard on the boys;" in fact, had begun to electioneer a little for the Legislature and for Congress. In fact, some wanted, and were looking forward to the time, to run for Governor of Tennessee.
Staunton was a big place; whisky was cheap, and good Virginia tobacco was plentiful, and the currency of the country was gold and silver.
The State Asylums for the blind and insane were here, and wo visited all the places of interest.
II ore is where we first saw the game called "chuck-a-luck,1' afterwards so popular in the army. But, I always noticed that chuck won, and luck always lost.
Faro and roulette were in full blast ; in fact, the skum had begun to come to the surface, and shoddy was the gentleman. By this, I mean that civil law had been suspended; the ermine of the judges had been overridden by the sword and bayonet. In other words, the military had absorbed the civil. Hence the gambler was in his <>k>rv.
WARM SPRINGS, VIRGINIA.
One day" while we were idling around camp, June Tucker sounded the assembly, and we were ordered aboard the cars. We pulled out for Millboro; from there we had to foot it to Bath Alum and Warm Springs. We went over the Allegheny Moun- tains.
RETROSPECTIVE. 17
I was on every march that was ever made by the First Ten- nessee Regiment during the whole war, and at this time I cannot remember of ever experiencing a harder or more fatiguing march. It seemed that mountain was piled upon mountain. No sooner would we arrive at a place that seemed to be the top than another view of a higher, and yet higher mountain would rise before us. From the foot to the top of the mountain the soldiers lined the road, broken down and exhausted. First one blanket was thrown away, and then another ; now and then a good pair of pants, old boots and -shoes, Sunday hats, pistols and Bowie knives strewed the road. Old bottles and jugs and vari- ous and sundry articles were lying pell-mell everywhere. Up and up, and onward and upward we pulled and toiled, until we reached the very top, when there burst upon our view one of the grandest and most beautiful landscapes we ever beheld.
Nestled in the valley right before us is Bath Alum and Warm Springs. It seemed to me at that time, and since, a glimpse of a better and brighter world beyond, to the weary Christian pilgrim who may have been toiling on his journey for years. A glad shout arose from those who had gained the top, which cheered and encouraged the others to persevere. At last we got to Warm Springs. Here they had a nice warm dinner waiting for us. They had a large bath-house at Warm Springs. A large pool of water arranged so that a person could go in any depth he might desire. It was a free thing, and we pitched in. We had no idea of the enervating effect it would have upon our physical systems, and as the water was but little past tepid, we stayed in a good long time. But when we came out we were as limp as dishrags. About this time the assembly sounded and we were ordered to march. But we couldn't march worth a cent. There we had to stay until our systems had had sufficient recuperation. And we would wonder what all this marching was for, as the war was over anyhow.
The second day after leaving Warm Springs we came to Big Springs. It was in the month of August, and the biggesl white frost fell that I ever saw in winter.
The Yankees were reported to be in close proximity to us,
18 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
and Captain Field with a detail of ten men was sent forward on the scout. I was on the detail, and when we left camp that evening, it was dark and dreary and drizzling rain. After a while the rain began to come down harder and harder, and every one of us was wet and drenched to the skin — guns, cartridges and powder. The next morning about daylight, while standing videt, I saw a body of twenty-five or thirty Yankees approach- ing, and I raised my gun for the purpose of shooting, and pulled down, but the cap popped. They discovered me and popped three or four caps at me ; their powder was wet also. Before I could get on a fresh cap, Captain Field came running up with his seven-shooting rifle, and the first fire he killed a Yankee. They broke and run. Captain Field did all the firing, but every time he pulled down he brought a Yankee. I have forgotten the number that he did kill, but if I am not mistaken it was either twenty or twenty-one, for I remember the incident was in almost every Southern paper at that time, and the general comments were that one Southern man was equal to twenty Yankees. While we were in hot pursuit, one truly brave and magnanimous Yankee, who had been badly wounded, said, ''Gentlemen, you have killed me, but not a hundred yards from here is the main line." We did not go any further, but halted right there, and after getting all the information that we could out of the wounded Yankee, we returned to camp.
One evening, General Robert E. Lee came to our camp. He was a fine-looking gentleman, and wore a moustache. He was dressed in blue cottonade and looked like some good boy's grandpa. I felt like going up to him and saying good evening. Uncle Bob ! I am not certain at this late day that I did not do so. I remember going up mighty close and sitting there and listening to his conversation with the officers of our regiment. He had a calm and collected air about him, his voice was kind ;iiid tender, and his eye was as gentle as a dove's. His whole make-up of form and person, looks and manner had a kind of gentle and soothing magnetism about it that drew every one to liiin and made them love, respect, and honor him. I fell in love with the old gentleman and felt like going home with him. I
RETROSPECTIVE. 10
know I have never seen a finer looking man, nor one with more kind and gentle features and manners. His horse was standing nipping the grass, and when I saw that he was getting ready to start I ran and caught his horse and led him up to him. He took the reins of the bridle in his hand and said, 'thank you, my son," rode off, and my heart went with him. There was none of his staff with him ; he had on no sword or pistol, or anything to show his rank. The only thing that I remember he had was an opera-glass hung over his shoulder by a strap;
Leaving Big Springs, we marched on day by day, across Greenbrier and Gauley rivers to Huntersville, a little but sprightly town hid in the very fastnesses of the mountains. The people live exceedingly well in these mountains. They had plenty of honey and buckwheat cakes, and they called butter- milk "sour-milk," and sour-milk weren't fit for pigs; they couldn't see how folks drank sour-milk. But sour-kraut was good. Everything seemed to grow in the mountains — potatoes, Irish and sweet ; onions, snap beans, peas — though the country was very thinly populated. Deer, bear, and foxes, as well as wild turkeys, and rabbits and squirrels abounded everywhere. Apples and peaches were abundant, and everywhere the people had apple-butter for every meal ; and occasionally we would come across- a small-sized distillery, which we would at once start to doing duty. We drank the singlings while they were hot, but like the old woman who could not eat corn bread until she heard that they made whisky out of corn, then she could manage to "worry a little of it down ;" so it was with us and the singlings.
From this time forward, we were ever on the march — tramp, tramp, tramp — always on the march. Lee's corps, Stonewall Jackson's division — I refer you to the histories for the marches and tramps made by these commanders the first year of the war. Well, we followed them.
CHEAT MOUNTAIN.
One evening about 4 o'clock, the drummers of the regiment began to beat their drums as hard as they could stave, and I saw men running in every direction, and the camp soon became one
20 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
scene of hurry and excitement. I asked some one what all this hnhlmb meant. He looked at me with utter astonishment. I saw soldiers running' to their tents and grabbing their guns and cartridge-boxes and hurry out again, the drums still rolling and rattling. I asked several other fellows what in the dickens did all this mean? Finally one fellow, who seemed scared almost out of his wits, answered between a wail and a shriek, "Why, sir, they are beating the long roll." Says I, "What is the long roll for?" "The long roll, man, the long roll! Get your gun; they are beating the long roll!" This was all the information that I could get. It was the first, last, and only long roll that I ever heard. But, then everything was new, and Colonel Maney, ever prompt, ordered the assembly. Without any command or bugle sound, or anything, every soldier was in his place. Tents, knapsacks and everything was left indiscriminately.
We were soon on the march, and we marched on and on and on. About night it began to rain. All our blankets were back in camp, but we were expected every minute to be ordered into action. That night we came to Mingo Flats. The rain still poured. We had no rations to eat and nowhere to sleep. Some of us got some fence rails and piled them together and worried through the night as best we could. The next morning wo were ordered to march again, but we soon began to get hun- gry, and we had about half halted and about not halted at all. Some of the boys were picking blackberries. The main body of the regiment was marching leisurely along the road, when hang, debang, debang, bang, and a volley of buck and ball came hurling right through the two advance companies of the regi- ment— companies H and K. We had marched into a Tanker ambuscade.
All at once everything was a scene of consternation and confusion; no one Beemed equal to the emergency. We did not kimw whether to run or stand, when Captain Field gave the command to fire and charge the bushes. We charged the hushes and saw the Yankees running through them, and we fired «>n them as they retreated. T do not know how many Yan- kee were killed, if any. Our company (II) had one man
RETROSPECTIVE. 21
killed, Pat Hanley, an Irishman, who had joined our company at Chattanooga. Hugh Padgett and Dr. Hooper, and perhaps one or two others, were wounded.
After the fighting was over, where, O where, was all the fine rigging heretofore on our officers ? They could not be seen. Corporals, sergeants, lieutenants, captains, all had torn all the fine lace off their clothing. I noticed that at the time and was surprised and hurt. I asked several of them why they had torn off the insignia of their rank, and they always answered, "Humph, you think that I was going to he a target for the Yan- kees to shoot at ?" Von see, this was our first battle, and the officers had not found out that minnie as well as cannon balls were blind; that they had no eyes and could not see. They thought that the balls would hunt for them and not hurt the privates. I always shot at privates. It was they that did the shooting and killing, and if I could kill or wound a private, why, my chances were so much the better. I always looked upon officers as harmless personages. Colonel Field, I suppose, was about the only Colonel of the war that did as much shooting as the private soldier. If I shot at an officer, it was at long range, but when we got down to close quarters I always tried to kill those that were trying to kill me.
SEWELL MOUNTAIN".
From Cheat Mountain we went by forced marches day and night, over hill and everlasting mountains, and through lovely and smiling valleys, sometimes the country rich and productive, sometimes rough and broken, through towns and villages, the names of which I have forgotten, crossing streams and rivers, but continuing our never ceasing, unending march, passing through the Kanawha Valley and by the salt-works, and nearly back to the Ohio river, when we at last reached Sewell Moun- tain. Here we found General John B. Floyd strongly en- trenched and fortified and facing the advance of the Federal army. Two days before our arrival he had charged and cap- tured one line of the enemy's works. I know nothing of the battle. See the histories for that. I only write from memory, and that was twenty years ago, but I remember reading in the
22 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
newspapers at that time of some distinguished man, whether he was captain, colonel or general, I have forgotten, but I know the papers said "he sought the bauble, reputation, at the cannon's mouth, and went to glory from the death-bed of fame." I remember it sounded gloriously in print. Xow, reader, this is all I know of this grand battle. I only recollect what the news- papers said about it, and you know that a newspaper always I'll- the truth. I also know that beef livers sold for one dollar apiece in gold ; and here is where we were first paid off in Con- federate money. Remaining here a few days, we commenced <>ur march again.
Sewell Mountain, Harrisonburg, Lewisburg, Kanawha Suit -works, first four, forward and back, seemed to be the pro- gramme of that day. Rosecrans, that wiley old fox, kept Lee and Jackson both busy trying to catch him, but Rosey would not be caught. March, march, march ; tramp, tramp, tramp, back through the valley to Huntersville and Warm Springs, and up through the most beautiful valley — the Shenandoah — in the world, passing towns and elegant farms and beautiful residences, rich pastures and abundant harvests, which a Federal General (Fighting Joe Hooker), later in the war, ordered to be so sacked and destroyed that a "crow passing over this valley would have to carry his rations." Passing on, Ave arrived at Winchester. The first night we arrived at this place, the wTind blew a perfect hurricane, and every tent and marquee in Lee's and Jackson's army was blown down. This is the first sight we had of Stone- wall Jackson, riding upon his old sorrel horse, his feet drawn up as if his stirrups were much too short for him, and his old dingy military cap hanging well forward over his head, and his nose erected in the air, his old rusty sabre rattling by his side. This is the way the grand old hero of a hundred battles looked. His spirit is yonder with the blessed ones that have gone before, but ln's history is one that the country will ever be proud of, and his memory will be cherished and loved by the old soldiers who fol- lowed him through the war.
ROMNEY.
Our march to and from Romnev was in midwinter, in the
RETROSPECTIVE. 23
month of January, 1862. It Avas the coldest winter known to the oldest inhabitant of these regions. Situated in the most mountainous country in Virginia, and away up near the Mary- land and Pennsylvania line, the storm king seemed to rule in all of his majesty and power. Snow and rain and sleet and tempest seemed to ride and laugh and shriek and howl and moan and groan in all their fury and wrath. The soldiers on this march got very much discouraged and disheartened. As they inarched along icicles hung from their clothing, guns, and knapsacks ; many were badly frost bitten, and I heard of many freezing to death along the road side. My feet peeled off like a peeled onion on that march, and I have not recovered from its effects to this day. The snow and ice on the ground being packed by the soldiers tramping, the horses hitched to the artillery wagons were continually slipping and sliding and falling and wounding themselves and sometimes killing their riders. The wind whistling with a keen and piercing shriek, seemed as if they would freeze the marrow in our bones. The soldiers in the whole army got rebellious — almost mutinous— and would curse and abuse Stonewall Jackson ; in fact, they called him ''Fool Tom Jackson." They blamed him for the cold weather; they blamed him for everything, and when he would ride by a regi- ment they would take occasion, sotto voce, to abuse him, and call him "Fool Tom Jackson," and loud enough for him to hear. Soldiers from all commands would fall out of ranks and stop by the road side and swear that they would not follow such a leader any longer.
When Jackson got to Romney, and was ready to strike Banks and Meade in a vital point, and which would have changed, perhaps, the destiny of the war and the South, his troops refused to march any further, and he turned, marched back to Winchester and tendered his resignation to the authori- ties at Richmond. But the great leader's resignation was not accepted. It was in store for him to do some of the hardest fighting and greatest generalship that was done during the war.
One night at this place (Romney), I was sent forward with two other soldiers across the wire bridge as picket. One of
*24 CO. H.j, FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
them was named Schwartz and the other Pfifer — he called it Fifer, but spelled it with a P — both full-blooded Dutchmen, and belonging to Company E, or the German Yagers, Captain Harsh, or, as he was more generally called, "God-for-dam."
When we had crossed the bridge and taken our station for the night, I saw another snow storm was coming. The zig-zag Lightnings began to flare and flash, and sheet after sheet of wild flames seemed to burst right over our heads and were hissing around us. The very elements seemed to be one aurora borealis with continued lightning. Streak after streak of lightning seemed to be piercing each the other, the one from the north and the other from the south. The white clouds would roll up, looking like huge snow balls, encircled with living fires. The earth and hills and trees were covered with snow, and the light- nings seemed to be playing "King, King Cameo" along its crust- ed surface. If it thundered at all, it seemed to be between a groaning and a rumbling sound. The trees and hills seemed white with livid fire. I can remember that storm now as the grandest picture that has ever made any impression on my memory. As soon as it quit lightning, the most blinding snow storm fell that L ever saw. It fell so thick and fast that I got hot I felt like pulling off my coat. I was freezing. The winds sounded like sweet music. I felt grand, glorious, pecul- iar; beautiful things began to play and dance around my head. and I supposed I must have dropped to sleep or something, when I fell Schwartz grab me, and give me a shake, and at the same time raised his gun and fired, and yelled out at the top of his voice. •'Here is your mule." The next instant a volley of min- nie balls was scattering the snow all around us. I tried to walk, but my pants and boots were stiff and frozen, and the blood had ceased to circulate in my lower limbs. But Schwartz kept on tiring, and at every fire he would yell out, "Yer is yer mool!" I 'titer could not speak English, and I reckon he said "Here is your mule" in Dutch. About the same time we were hailed from three Confederate officers, at full gallop right toward us, not to shoot. And as they galloped up to us and thundered right across the bridge, we discovered it was Stonewall Jackson and
RETROSPECTIVE. 25
two of his staff. At the same time the Yankee cavalry charged us, and we, too, ran back across the bridge.
STANDING PICKET ON THE POTOMAC.
Leaving Winchester, we continued up the valley.
The night before the attack on Bath or Berkly Springs, there fell the largest snow I ever saw.
Stonewall Jackson had seventeen thousand soldiers at his command. The Yankees were fortified at Bath. An attack was ordered, our regiment marched upon top of a mountain overlooking the movements of both armies in the valley below. About 4 o'clock one grand charge and rush was made, and the Yankees were routed and skedaddled.
By some circumstance or other, Lieutenant J. Lee Bullock came in command of the First Tennessee Regiment. But Lee was not a graduate of West Point, you see.
The Federals had left some spiked batteries on the hill side, as we were informed by an old citizen, and Lee, anxious to cap- ture a battery, gave the new and peculiar command of, "Soldiers, you are ordered to go forward and capture a battery ; just piroute up that hill; piroute, march. Forward, men; piroute care- fully. " The boys "pirouted" as best they could. It may have been a new command, and not laid down in Hardee's or Scott's tactics ; but Lee was speaking plain English, and we understood his meaning perfectly, and even at this late day I have no doubt that every soldier who heard the command thought it a legal and technical term used by military graduates to go forward and capture a battery.
At this place (Bath), a beautiful young lady ran across the street. I have seen many beautiful and pretty women in my life, but she was the prettiest one I ever saw. Were you to ask any member of the First Tennessee Regiment who was the pret- tiest woman he ever saw, he would unhesitatingly answer that be saw her at Berkly Springs during the war, and he would continue the tale, and tell you of Lee Bullock's piroute and Stonewall Jackson's charge.
We rushed down to the big spring .bursting out of the moun- tain side, and it was hot enough to cook an egg. Never did I
20 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
see soldiers more surprised. The water was so hot we could not drink it.
The snow covered the ground and was still falling.
That night I stood picket on the Potomac with a detail of the Third Arkansas Regiment. I remember how sorry I felt f'< a the poor fellows, because they had enlisted for the war, and we for only twelve months. Before nightfall I took in every object and commenced my weary vigils. I had to stand all night. I could hear the rumblings of the Federal artillery and wagons, and hear the low shuffling sound made by troops on the march. The snow came pelting down as large as goose eggs. About midnight the snow ceased to fall, and became quiet. Now and then the snow would fall off the bushes and make a terrible noise. While I was peering through the darkness, my eyes suddenly fell upon the outlines of a man. The more I looked the more I was convinced that it was a Yankee picket. I could see his hat and coat — yes, see his gun. I was sure that it was a Yankee picket. What was I to do? The relief was several hundred yards in the rear. The more I looked the more sure I was. At last a cold sweat broke out all over my body. Turkey bumps rose. I summoned all the nerves and bravery that I could command, and said : "Halt ! who goes there ?" There being no response, I became resolute. I did not wish to fire and arouse the camp, but I marched right up to it and stuck my bayonet through and through it. It was a stump. I tell the above, because it illustrates a part of many a private's recollec- tions of flic war; in fact, a part of the hardships and suffering that they go through.
One secret, of Stonewall Jackson's success was that he was such a strict, disciplinarian. He did his duty himself and was ever at his post, and he expected and demanded of everybody to do the same thing. lie would have a man shot at the drop of a hat, and drop it himself. The first army order that was ever read to us after being attached to his corps, was the shooting to death by musketry of two men who had stopped on the battlefield to carry off a wounded comrade. It was read to us in line of liattle at Winchester.
RETROSPECTIVE. 27
SCHWARTZ AND PFIFER.
At Valley Mountain the finest and fattest beef I ever saw was issued to the soldiers, and it was the custom to use tallow for lard. Tallow made good shortening if the biscuits were eaten hot, but if allowed to get cold they had a strong taste of tallow in their flavor that did not taste like the flavor of vanilla or lemon in ice cream and strawberries ; and biscuits fried in tal- low were something upon the principle of 'possum and sweet potatoes. Well, Pfifer had got the fat from the kidneys of two hind-quarters and made a cake of tallow weighing about twenty- five pounds. He wrapped it up and put it carefully away in his knapsack. When the assembly sounded for the march, Pfifer strapped on his knapsack. It was pretty heavy, but Pfifer was "well heeled." He knew the good frying he would get out of that twenty-five pounds of nice fat tallow, and he was willing to tug and toil all day over a muddy and sloppy road for his anticipated hot tallow gravy for supper. We made a long and hard march that day, and about dark went into camp. Fires were made up and water brought, and the soldiers began to get supper. Pfifer was in a good humor. He went to get that twenty-five pounds of good, nice, fat tallow out of his knap- sack, and on opening it, lo and behold ! it was a rock that weighed about thirty pounds. Pfifer was struck dumb with amazement. He looked bewildered, yea, even silly. I do not think he cursed, because he could not do the subject justice. He looked at that rock with the death stare of a doomed man. But he suspected Schwartz. He went to Schwartz's knapsack, and there he found his cake of tallow. He went to Schwartz and would have killed him had not soldiers interfered and pulled him off by main force. His eyes blazed and looked like those of a tiger when he has just torn his victim limb from limb. I would not have been in Schwartz's shoes for all the tallow in every beef in Virginia. Captain Harsh made Schwartz carry thai rock for two days to pacify Pfifer.
THE COURT-MARTIAL.
One incident came under my observation while in Virginia
28 CO. 11., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
that made a deep impression on my mind. One morning, about daybreak, the new guard was relieving the old guard. It was a bitter cold morning, and on coming to our extreme outpost, I saw a soldier — he was but a mere boy — either dead or asleep at his post. The sergeant commanding the relief went up to him and shoot him. He immediately woke up and seemed very much frightened. He was fast asleep at his post. The sergeant had him arrested and carried to the guard-house.
Two davs afterwards I received notice to appear before a court-martial at nine. I was summoned to appear as a witness against him for being asleep at his post in the enemy's country. An example had to be made of some one. He had to be tried for his life. The court-martial was made up of seven or eight offi- cers of a different regiment. The witnesses all testified against him. charges and specifications were read, and by the rules of war he had to be shot to death by musketry. The Advocate- Genera] for the prosecution made the opening speech. He read the law in a plain, straightforward manner, and said that for a soldier to go to sleep at his post of duty, while so much depended upoD him, was the most culpable of all crimes, and the most inexcusable. 1 trembled in my boots, for on several occasions I knew I had taken a short nap, even on the very outpost. The Advocate-General went on further to say, that the picket was the sentinel that held the lives of his countrymen and the liberty of his country in his hands, and it mattered not what may have been his record in the past. At one moment he had forfeited his life to his country. For discipline's sake, if for nothing else, you gentlemen that make up this court-martial find the prisoner guilty. It is necessary for you to be firm, gentlemen, for upon your decision depends the safety of our country. When In' had finished, thinks I to myself, "Gone up the spout, sure; we will have a first-class funeral here before night."
Well, as to the lawyer who defended him, I cannot now , remember his speeches; but he represented a fair-haired boy leaving his home and family, telling his father and aged mother and darling little sister farewell, and spoke of his proud step, though a mere boy, going to defend his country and his loved
RETROSPECTIVE. 2£
ones ; but at one weak moment, when nature, tasked and taxed beyond the bounds of human endurance, could stand no longer, and upon the still and silent picket post, when the whole army was hushed in slumber, what wonder is it that he, too, may have- fallen asleep while at his post of duty.
Some of you gentlemen of this court-martial may have sons, may have brothers ; yes, even fathers, in the army. Where are they to-night? You love your children, or your brother or father. This mere youth has a father and mother and sister away back in Tennessee. They are willing to give him to his country. But oh ! gentlemen, let the word go back to Tennessee that he died upon the battlefield, and not by the hands of his own comrades for being asleep at his post of duty. I cannot now remember the speeches, but one thing I do know, that he was. acquitted, and I was glad of it.
"the death watch/''
One more scene I can remember. Kind friends — you that know nothing of a soldier's life — I ask you in all candor not to doubt the following lines in this sketch. You have no doubt read of the old Roman soldier found amid the ruins of Pompeii, who had stood there for sixteen hundred years, and when he was excavated was found at his post with his gun clasped in his skele- ton hands. You believe this because it is written in history. I have heard politicians tell it. I have heard it told from the sacred desk. It is true ; no one doubts it.
Now, were I to tell something that happened in this nine- teenth century exactly similar, you would hardly believe it. But whether you believe it or not, it is for you to say. At a little village called Hampshire Crossing, our regiment was ordered to go to a little stream called St. John's Run, to relieve the 14th Georgia Regiment and the 3rd Arkansas. I cannot tell the facts as I desire to. In fact, my hand trembles so, and my feel- ings are so overcome, that it is hard for me to write at all. But Ave went to the place that we were ordered to go to, and when we arrived there we found the guard sure enough. If I remember correctly, there were just eleven of them. Some were sitting down and some were lving down ; but each and every one was as
30 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
cold and as hard frozen as the icicles that hung from their hands and faces and clothing — dead! They had died at their post of duty. Two of them, a little in advance of the others, were standing with their guns in their hands, as cold and as hard frozen as a monument of marble — standing sentinel with loaded guns in their frozen hands ! The tale is told. Were they true men ? Does He who noteth the sparrow's fall, and numbers the hairs of our heads, have any interest in one like ourselves ? Yes; He doeth all things well. !Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His consent.
VIRGINIA, FAREWELL.
After having served through all the valley campaign, and marched through all the wonders of Northwest Virginia, and being associated with the army of Virginia, it was with sorrow and regret that we bade farewell to "Old Virginia's shore," to go to other fields of blood and carnage and death. We had learned to love Virginia; we love her now. The people were kind and good to us. They divided their last crust of bread and rasher of bacon with us. We loved Lee, we loved Jackson ; we loved the name, association and people of Virginia. Hatton, Forbes, Anderson, Gilliam, Govan, Loring, Ashby and Schu- i nakcr were names with which we had been long associated. We hated to leave all our old comrades behind us. We felt that we were proving recreant to the instincts of our own manhood, and that we were leaving those who had stood by us on the march and battlefield when they most needed our help. We knew the 7th and 14th Tennessee regiments; we knew the 3rd Arkansas, the 14th Georgia, and 42nd Virginia regiments. Their names were as familiar as household words. We were about to leave the bones of Joe Bynum and Gus Allen and Patrick Hanly. We were about to bid farewell to every tender association that we had formed with the good people of Virginia, and to our old associates among the soldiers of the Grand Army of Virginia. I irginia, farewell! Away back yonder, in good old Tennessee, our homes and loved ones are being robbed and insulted, our fields Laid waste, our cities sacked, and our people slain. Duty as well as patriotism calls us back to our native home, to try and
SHILOH. &1
defend it, as best we can, against an invading army of our then enemies ; and, Virginia, once more we bid you a long farewell !
CHAPTER II.— SHILOH.
SHILOH.
This was the first big battle in which our regiment had ever been engaged. I do not pretend to tell of what command dis- tinguished itself; of heroes; of blood and wounds; of shrieks and groans; of brilliant charges; of cannon captured, etc. I was but a private soldier, and if I happened to look to see if I could find out anything, "Eyes right, guide center," was the order. "Close up, guide right, halt, forward, right oblique, left oblique, halt, forward, guide center, eyes right, dress up prompt- ly in the rear, steady, double quick, charge bayonets, fire at will," is about all that a private soldier ever knows of a battle. He can see the smoke rise and the flash of the enemy's guns, and he can hear the whistle of the minnie and cannon balls, but he has got to load and shoot as hard as he can tear and ram car- tridge, or he will soon find out, like the Irishman who had been shooting blank cartridges, when a ball happened to strike him, and he halloed out, "Faith, Pat, and be jabbers, them fellows are shooting bullets." But I nevertheless remember many things that came under my observation in this battle. I remember a man by the name of Smith stepping deliberately out of the ranks and shooting his finger off to keep out of the fight; of another poor fellow who was accidentally shot and killed by the discharge of another person's gun, and of others suddenly taken sick with colic. Our regiment was the advance guard on Sat-
32 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
urday evening, and did a little skirmishing; but General Glad- den's brigade passed us and assumed a position in our immediate front. About daylight on Sunday morning, Chalmers' brigade relieved Gladden's. As Gladden rode by us, a courier rode up and told him something. I do not know what it was, but I heard Gladden say, "Tell General Bragg that I have as keen a scent for^ Yankees as General Chalmers has."
On Sunday morning, a clear, beautiful, and still day. the order was given for the whole army to advance, and to attack immediately. We were supporting an Alabama brigade. The fire opened — bang, bang, bang, a rattle de bang, bang, bang, a boom, de bang, bang, bang, boom, bang, boom, bang, boom, bang, boom, bang, boom, whirr-siz-siz-siz — a ripping, roaring boom, bans! The air was full of balls and deadly missiles. The litter corps was carrying off the dying and wounded. We could hear the shout of the charge and the incessant roar of the guns, the rattle of the musketry, and knew that the contending forces were engaged in a breast to breast struggle. But cheering news continued to come back. Every one who passed would be hailed with, "Well, what news from the front?" "Well, boys. we are driving 'em. We have captured all their encampments, everything that they had, and all their provisions and army stores, and everything."
As we were advancing to the attack and to support the Alabama brigade in our front, and which had given way and were stricken with fear, some of the boys of our regiment would laugh at thorn, and ask what they were running for, and would commence to say "Flicker! flicker! flicker!" like the bird called the yellowhammer, "Flicker! flicker! flicker!" As we advanced, on the edge of the battlefield, we saw a big fat colonel of the 23rd Tennessee regimenl badly wounded, whose name, if 1 re- member correctly, was Matt. Martin. He said to us, "(live 'em
. boys. That's right, my brave First Tennessee. Give 'em Hail Columbia!" We halted but a moment, and said I, "Colonel, where are you wounded?" He answered in a dec]) base voire, "My son, I am wounded in the arm, in the leg, in the head, in the body, and in another place which I have a delicacy
SHILOH. 33
in mentioning." That is what the gallant old Colonel said. Advancing a little further on, we saw General Albert Sidney Johnson surrounded by his staff and Governor Harris, of Ten- nessee. We saw some little commotion among those who sur- rounded him, but we did not know at the time that he was dead. The fact was kept from the troops.
About noon a courier dashed up and ordered us to go for- ward and support General Bragg's center. "We had to pass over the ground where troops had been fighting all day.
I had heard and read of battlefields, seen pictures of battle- fields, of horses and men, of cannon and wagons, all jumbled together, while the ground was strewn with dead and dying and wounded, but I must confess that I never realized the "pomp and circumstance" of the thing called glorious war until I saw this Men were lying in every conceivable position; the dead lying with their eyes wide open, the wounded begging piteously for help, and some waving their hats and shouting to us to go for- ward. It all seemed to me a dream ; I seemed to be in a sort of haze, when siz, siz, siz, the minnie balls from the Yankee line began to whistle around our ears, and I thought of the Irishman when he said, "Sure enough, those fellows are shooting bullets !"
Down would drop first one fellow and then another, either killed or wounded, when we were ordered to charge bayonets. I had been feeling mean all the morning as if I had stolen a sheep, but when the order to charge was given, I got happy. I felt happier than a fellow does when he professes religion at a big Methodist camp-meeting. I shouted. It was fun then. Everybody looked happy. We were crowding them. One more charge, then their lines waver and break. They retreat in wild confusion. We were jubilant; we were triumphant. Officers could not curb the men to keep in line. Discharge after dis- charge was poured into the retreating line. The Federal dead and wounded covered the ground.
When in the very midst of our victory, here comes an order to halt. What ! halt after to-day's victory ? Sidney Johnson killed, General Gladden killed, and a host of generals and other brave men killed, and the whole Yankee army in full retreat.
34 CO. II... FIRST TENNESSEE KEGIMENT.
These four letters, h-a-l-t, O, how harsh they did break upon our ears. The victory was complete, but the word "halt" turned victory into defeat.
The soldiers had passed through the Yankee camps and saw all the good things that they had to eat in their sutlers' stores and officers' marquees, and it was but a short time before even' soldier was rummaging to see what he could find.
The harvest was great and the laborers were not few.
The negro boys, who were with their young masters as servants, got rich. Greenbacks were plentiful, good clothes were plentiful, rations were not in demand. The boys were in clover.
This was Sunday.
On Monday the tide was reversed.
Now, those Yankees were whipped, fairly whipped, and according to all the rules of war they ought to have retreated. But they didn't. Flushed with their victories at Fort Henry and Fort Donelson and the capture of Nashville, and the whole State of Tennessee having fallen into their hands, victory was again to perch upon their banners, for Buell's army, by forced marches, had come to Grant's assistance at the eleventh hour.
Gunboats and transports were busily crossing Buell's army all of Sunday night. We could hear their boats ringing their bells, and hear the puff of smoke and steam from their boilers. Our regiment was the advance outpost, and we saw the skirmish line of the Federals advancing and then their main line and then their artillery. We made a good fight on Monday morning. and I was taken by surprise when the order came for us to retreat instead of advance. But as I said before, reader, a private soldier is but an automaton, and knows nothing of what is going on among the generals, and I am only giving the chron- icles of little things and events that came under my own observa- tion as I saw them then and remember them now. Should you desire to find out more about the battle, I refer you to history. One incident I recollect very well. A Yankee colonel, riding a fine gray mare, was sitting on his horse looking at our advance as if we were on review. W. IT. rushed forward and
SHILOH. 35
grabbed his horse by the bridle, telling him at the same time to surrender. The Yankee seized the reins, set himself back in the saddle, put the muzzle of his pistol in W. H.'s face and fired. About the time he pulled trigger, a stray ball from some direc- tion struck him in the side and he fell off dead, and his horse becoming frightened, galloped off, dragging him through the Confederate lines. His pistol had missed its aim.
I have heard hundreds of old soldiers tell of the amount of greenback money they saw and picked up on the battlefield of Shiloh, but they thought it valueless and did not trouble them- selves with bringing it off with them.
One fellow, a courier, who had had his horse killed, got on a mule he had captured, and in the last charge, before the final and fatal halt was made, just charged right ahead by his lone self, and the soldiers said, "Just look at that brave man, charg- ing right in the jaws of death." He began to seesaw the mule and grit his teeth, and finally yelled out, "It arn't me, boys, it's this blarsted old mule. Whoa ! Whoa !"
On Monday morning I too captured me a mule. He was not a fast mule, and I soon found out that he thought he knew as much as I did. He was wise in his own conceit. He had a propensity to take every hog path he came to. All the bom- basting that I could give him would not make him accelerate his speed. If blood makes speed, I do not suppose he had a drop of any kind in him. If I wanted him to go on one side of the road he was sure to be possessed of an equal desire to go on the other side/ Finally I and my mule fell out. I got a big hickory and would frail him over the head, and he would only shake his head and flop his ears, and seem to say, "Well, now, you think you are smart, don't you ?" He was a resolute mule, slow to anger, and would have made an excellent merchant to refuse bad pay, or I will pay your credit, for his whole composition seemed to be made up the one word — no. I frequently thought it would be pleasant to split the difference with that mule, and I would gladly have done so if I could have gotten one-half of his no. Me and mule worried along until we came to a creek. Mule did not desire to cross, while I was trying to persuade him with
36 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
a big stick, a rock in his ear, and a twister on his nose. The caisson of a battery was about to cross. The driver said, "I'll take your mule over for you." So he got a large two-inch rope tied one end around the mule's neck and the other to the caisson, and ordered the driver to whip up. The mule was loth to take to the water. He was no Baptist, and did not believe in immer- sion, and had his views about crossing streams, but the rope began to tighten, the mule to squeal out his protestations against such villainous proceedings. The rope, however, was stronger than the mule's "no," and he was finally prevailed upon by the strength of the rope to cross the creek. On my taking the rope off he shook himself and seemed to say, "You think that you are mighty smart folks, but you are a leetle too smart." I gave it up that that mule's "no" was a little stronger than my deter- mination. He seemed to be in deep meditation. I got on him again, when all of a sudden he lifted his head, pricked up his ears, began to champ his bit, gave a little squeal, got a little faster, and finally into a gallop and then a run. He seemed all at once to have remembered or to have forgotten something, and was now making up for lost time. With all my pulling and see- sawing and strength I could not stop him until he brought up with me at Corinth, Mississippi.
CHAPTER III.— CORINTH.
CORINTH.
Well, here we were, again "reorganizing," and after our lax discipline on the road to and from Virginia, and after a big bat- tle, which always disorganizes an army, what wonder is it that some men had to be shot, merely for discipline's sake? And
CORINTH.
37
what wonder that General Bragg's name became a terror to de- serters and evil doers ? Men were shot by scores, and no wonder the army had to be reorganized. Soldiers had enlisted for twelve months only, and had faithfully complied with their vol- unteer obligations ; the terms for which they had enlisted had expired, and they naturally looked upon it that they had a right to go home. They had done their duty faithfully and well. They wanted to see their families ; in fact, wanted to go home anyhow. War had become a reality ; they were tired of it. A law had been passed by the Confederate States Congress called the conscript act. A soldier had no right to volunteer and to choose the branch of service he preferred. He was conscripted.
From this tini3 on till the end of the war, a soldier was simply a machine, a conscript. It was mighty rough on rebels. We cursed the war, we cursed Bragg, we cursed the Southern Confederacy. All our pride and valor had gone, and we were sick of war and the Southern Confederacy.
A law was made by the Confederate States Congress about this time allowing every person who owned twenty negroes to go home. It gave us the blues ; we wanted twenty negroes. ISTegro property suddenly became very valuable, and there was raised the howl of "rich man's war, poor man's fight." The glory of the war, the glory of the South, the glory and the pride of our volunteers had no charms for the conscript.
We were directed to re-elect our officers, and the country was surprised to see the sample of a conscript's choice. The conscript had no choice. He was callous, and indifferent whether he had a captain or not. Those who were at first officers had resigned and gone home, because they were officers. The poor private, a contemptible conscript, was left to howl and gnash his teeth. The war might as well have ended then and there. The boys were "hacked," nay, whipped. They were shorn of the locks of their glory. They had but one ambition now, and that was to get out of the army in some way or other. They wanted to join the cavalry or artillery or home guards or pioneer corps or to be "yaller dogs," or anything.
[The average staff officer and courier were always called
;J8 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
"yjiller dogs," and were regarded as non-combatants and a nui- sance, and the average private never let one pass without whist- ling and calling dogs. In fact, the general had to issue an army order threatening punishment for the ridicule hurled at staff officers and couriers. They were looked upon as simply '•hang- ers on," or in other words, as yellow sheep-killing dogs, that if you would say "booh" at, would yelp and get under their master's heels. Mike Snyder was General George M aney's "yaller dog," and I believe here is where Joe Jefferson, in Rip Van Winkle, got the name of Rip's dog Snyder. At all times of day or night you could hear, "Wheer, hyat, hyat, haer, haer, hugh, Snyder, whoopee, hyat, whoopee, Snyder, here, here," when a staff officer or courier happened to pass. The reason of this was that the private knew and felt that there was just that much more load- ing, shooting and fighting for him ; and there are the fewest num- ber of instances on record where a staff officer or courier ever fired a gun in their country's cause; and even at this late day, when I hear an old soldier telling of being on some general's staff, I always think of the letter "E." In fact, later in the war I was detailed as special courier and staff officer for General Hood, which office I held three days. But while I held the office, in passing a guard I always told them I was on Hood's staff, and ever afterwards I made those three days' staff business last me the balance of the war. I could pass any guard in the army by using the magic words, "staff officer." It beat all the counter- signs ever invented. It was the "open sesame" of war and discipline.]
Their last hope had set. They hated war. To their minds the South was a great tyrant, and the Confederacy a fraud. They were deserting by thousands. They had no love or respect for General Bragg. When men were to be shot or whipped, the whole army was marched to the horrid scene to see a poor trem- bling wretch tied to a post and a platoon of twelve men drawn up in line to put him to death, and the hushed command of "Ready, aim, fire!" would make the soldier, or conscript, I should say, loathe the very name of Southern Confederacy. And when some miserable wretch was to be whipped and branded
CORINTH. 39
for being absent ten days without leave, we had to see him kneel down and have his head shaved smooth and slick as a peeled onion, and then stripped to the naked skin. Then a strapping- fellow with a big rawhide would make the blood flow and spurt at every lick, the wretch begging and howling like a hound, and then he was branded with a red hot iron with the letter D on both hips, when he was marched through the army to the music of the "Kogue's March." It was enough. None of General Bragg's soldiers ever loved him. They had no faith in his ability as a general. He was looked upon as a merciless tyrant. The soldiers were very scantily fed. Bragg never was a good feeder or commissary-general. Rations with us were always scarce. No extra rations were ever allowed to the negroes who were with us as servants. No coffee or whisky or tobacco were ever allowed to be issued to the troops. If they obtained these luxuries, they were not from the government. These luxuries were withheld in order to crush the very heart and spirit of his troops. We were crushed. Bragg was the great autocrat. In the mind of the soldier, his word was law. He loved to crush the spirit of his men. The more of a hang-dog look they had about them the better was General Bragg pleased. Not a single soldier in the whole army ever loved or respected him. But he is dead now.
Peace to his ashes !
We became starved skeletons; naked and ragged rebels. The chronic diarrhoea became the scourge of the army. Corinth became one vast hospital. Almost the whole army attended the sick call every morning. All the water courses went dry, and we used water out of filthy pools.
Halleck was advancing ; we had to fortify Corinth. A vast army, Grant, Buell, Halleck, Sherman, all were advancing on Corinth. Our troops were in no condition to fight. In fact, they had seen enough of this miserable yet tragic farce. They were ready to ring down the curtain, put out the footlights and go home. They loved the Union anyhow, and were always op- posed to this war. But breathe softly the name of Bragg. It had more terror than the advancing hosts of Halleck's army.
-Id CO. II.. FIEST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
The shot and shell would come tearing through our ranks. Every now and then a soldier was killed or wounded, and we thought what "magnificent" folly. Death was welcome. Hal- leck's whole army of blue coats had no terror now. When we wer< • drawn up in line of battle, a detail of one-tenth of the army was placed in our rear to shoot us down if we ran. No pack of hounds under the master's lash, or body of penitentiary convicts were ever under greater surveillance. We were tenfold worse than slaves ; our morale was a thing of the past ; the glory of war and the pride of manhood had been sacrificed upon Bragg's tyrannical holocaust. But enough of this.
ROWLAND SHOT TO DEATH.
One morning I went over to the 23rd Tennessee Regiment on a visit to Captain Gray Armstrong and Colonel Jim Niel, both of whom were glad to see me, as we were old ante-bellum friends. While at Colonel Niel's marquee I saw a detail of soldiers bring out a man by the name of Rowland, whom they were going to shoot to death with musketry, by order of a court- martial, for desertion. I learned that he had served out the term for which he had originally volunteered, had quit our army and joined that of the Yankees, and was captured with Prentiss' Yankee brigade at Shiloh. He was being hauled to the place of execution in a wagon, sitting on an old gun box, which was to be his coffin. When they got to the grave, which had been dug the day before, the water had risen in it, and a soldier was baling it out. Rowland spoke up and said, "Please hand me a drink of that water, as I want to drink out of my own grave so the boys will talk about it when I am dead, and remember Rowland." They handed him the water and he drank all there was in the bucket, and handing it back asked them to please hand him a little more, as he had heard that water was very scarce in hell, and it would be the last he would ever drink. He was then carried to the death post, and there he began to cut up jack gen- erally. He began to curse Bragg, Jeff. Davis, and the Southern Confederacy, and all the rebels at a terrible rate. He was sim- ply arrogant and very insulting. I felt that he deserved to die.
CORINTH. 41
He said lie would show the rebels how a Union man could die. I do not know what all he did say. When the shooting detail came up, he went of his own accord and knelt down at the post. The Captain commanding the squad gave the command, "Ready, aim, fire !" and Rowland tumbled over on his side. It was the last of Rowland.
KILLING A YANKEE SHARPSHOOTER.
In our immediate front, at Corinth, Mississippi, our men were being picked off by sharpshooters, and a great many were killed, but no one could tell where the shots came from. At one particular post it was sure death. Every detail that had been sent to this post for a week had been killed. In distributing the detail this post fell to Tom Webb and myself. They were bring- ing off a dead boy just as we went on duty. Colonel George C. Porter, of the 6th Tennessee, warned us to keep a good lookout. We took our stands. A minnie ball whistled right by my head. I don't think it missed me an eighth of an inch. Tom had sat down on an old chunk of wood, and just as he took his seat, zip ! a ball took the chunk of wood. Tom picked it up and began laughing at our tight place. Happening to glance up towards the tree tops, I saw a smoke rising above a tree, and about the same time I saw a Yankee peep from behind the tree, up among the bushes. I quickly called Tom's attention to it, and pointed out the place. We could see his ramrod as he handled it while loading his gun ; saw him raise his gun, as we thought, to put a cap on it. Tom in the meantime had lain flat on his belly and placed his gun across the chunk he had been sitting on. I had taken a rest for my gun by the side of a sapling, and both of us had dead aim at the place where the Yankee was. Finally we saw him sort o' peep round the tree, and we moved about a little so that he might see us, and as we did so, the Yankee stepped out in full view, and bang, bang ! Tom and I had both shot. We saw that Yankee tumble out like a squirrel. It sounded like distant thunder when that Yankee struck the ground. We heard the Yankees carry him off. One thing I am certain of, and that is, not another Y'ankee went up that tree that day, and Colonel George C. Porter complimented Tom and I very highly
42 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
on our success. This is where I first saw a jack o* lantern (ignis fatui). That night, while Tom and I were on our posts, we saw a number of very dim lights, which seemed to he in motion. At first we took them to be Yankees moving about with lights. Whenever we could get a shot we would blaze away. At last one got up very close, and passed right between Tom and I. I don't think I was ever more scared in my life. My hair stood on end like the quills of the fretful porcupine ; I could not imagine what on earth it was. I took it to be some hellish machination of a Yankee trick. I did not know whether to run or stand, until I heard Tom laugh and say, "Well, well, that's a jack o' lantern."
COLONEL FIELD.
Before proceeding further with these memoirs, I desire to give short sketches of two personages with whom we were identi- fied and closely associated until the winding up of the ball. The first is Colonel Hume R. Field. Colonel Field was born a soldier. I have read many descriptions of Stonewall Jackson. Colonel Field was his exact counterpart. They looked some- what alike, spoke alike, and alike were trained military soldiers. The War Department at Richmond made a grand mistake in not making him a "commander of armies." He was not a brilliant man ; could not talk at all. He was a soldier. His conversation was yea and nay. But when you could get "yes, sir," and "no, sir," out of him his voice was as soft and gentle as a maid's when she says "yes" to her lover. Fancy, if you please, a man about thirty years old, a dark skin, made swarthy by exposure to sun and rain, very black eyes that seemed to blaze with a gentle lus- ter. I never saw him the least excited in my life. His face was a face of bronze. His form was somewhat slender, but when you looked at him you saw at the first glance that this would be a dangerous man in a ground skuffle, a foot race, or a fight. There was nothing repulsive or forbidding or even dom- ineering in his looks. A child or a dog would make up with him on first sight. He knew not what fear was, or the meaning of the word fear, lie had no nerves, or rather, has a rock or Tree
/
CORINTH. 43
any nerves ? You might as well try to shake the nerves of a rock or tree as those of Colonel Field. He was the bravest man, I think, I ever knew. Later in the war he was known by every soldier in the army ; and the First Tennessee Regiment, by his manipulations, became the regiment to occupy "tight places." He knew his men. When he struck the Yankee line they felt the blow. He had, himself, set the example, and so trained his regiment that all the armies in the world could not whip it. They might kill every man in it, is true, but they would die game to the last man. His men all loved him. He was no disciplina- rian, but made his regiment what it was by his own example. And every day on the march you would see some poor old ragged rebel riding his fine gray mare, and he was walking.
CAPTAIN JOE P. LEE.
The other person I wish to speak of is Captain Joe P. Lee. Captain Henry J. Webster was our regular captain, but was captured while on furlough, sent to a northern prison and died there, and Joe went up by promotion. He was quite a young man, about twenty-one years old, but as brave as any old Roman soldier that ever lived. Joe's face was ever wreathed in smiles, and from the beginning to the end he was ever at the head of his company. I do not think that any member of the company ever did call him by his title. He was called simply "Joe Lee," or more frequently "Black Perch." While on duty he was strict and firm, but off duty he was "one of us boys." We all loved and respected him, but everybody knows Joe, and further comment is unnecessary.
I merely mention these two persons because in this rapid sketch I may have cause occasionally to mention them, and only wish to introduce them to the reader, so he may understand more fully my ideas. But, reader, please remember that I am not writing a history at all, and do not propose in these memoirs to be anybody's biographer. I am only giving my own impres- sions. If other persons think differently from me it is all right, and I forgive them. • .
CORINTH FORSAKEN.
One morning a detail was sent to burn up and destroy all
tl CO. H.j FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the provisions and army stores, and to blow np the arsenal. The town was in a blaze of fire and the arsenal was roaring and pop- ping and bellowing like pandemonium turned loose as we marched through Corinth on the morning of the evacuation. We bade farewell to Corinth. Its history was black and dark and damning. Xo little speck of green oasis ever enlivened the dark recesses of our memory while at this place. It's a desert that lives only in bitter memories. It was but one vast grave- yard that entombed the life and spirit of once brave and chival- rous men. We left it to the tender mercies of the Yankees without one tear of sorrow or regret, and bade it farewell forever.
CHAPTER IV.— TUPELO.
TUPELO.
VYV went into summer quarters at Tupelo. Our principal occupation at this place was playing poker, chuck-a-luck and cracking graybacks (lice). Every soldier had a brigade of lice <>n him, and I have seen fellows so busily engaged in cracking them that it reminded me of an old woman knitting. At first the boys would go off in the woods and hide to louse themselves, but that was unnecessary, the ground fairly crawled with lice. Pharaoh's people, when they were resisting old Moses, never enjoyed the curse of lice more than we did. The boys would frequently have a louse race. There was one fellow who was winning all the money; his lice would run quicker and crawl faster than anybody's lice. We could not understand it. If some fellow happened to catch a fierce-looking louse, he would call on Domin for a race. Dornin would come and always win
TUPELO. 45
the stake. The lice were placed in plates — this was the race course — and the first that crawled off was the winner. At last we found out D.'s trick ; he always heated his plate.
Billy P. said he had no lice on him.
"Did you ever look ?"
"No."
"How do you know then ?"
"If ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise," said Billy.
"Why, there is one crawling on your bosom now."
Billy took him and put him back in his bosom and said to the louse, "You stay there now; this makes the fourth time I have put you back, and if I catch you out again to-day I'll martyr you."
Billy was philosophic — the death of one louse did not stop the breed.
THE COUKT-MARTIAL AT TUPELO.
At this place was held the grand court-martial. Almost every day we would hear a discharge of musketry, and knew that some poor, trembling wretch had bid farewell to mortal things here below. It seemed to be but a question of time with all of us as to when we too would be shot. We were afraid to chirp. So far now as patriotism was concerned, we had forgotten all about that, and did not now so much love our country as we feared Bragg. Men were being led to the death stake every day. I heard of many being shot, but did not see but two men shot myself. I do not know to what regiment they belonged, but I remember that they were mere beardless boys. I did not learn for what crime or the magnitude of their offenses. They might have deserved death for all I know.
I saw an old man, about sixty years old, whose name was Dave Brewer, and another man, about forty-five, by the name of Rube Franklin, whipped. There was many a man whipped and branded that I never saw or heard tell of. But the reason I remembered these two was that they belonged to Company A of the 23rd Tennessee Regiment, and I knew many men in the regiment.
These two men were hung up by the hands, after having
46 CO. II., FIEST TEBTCSTESSEE EEGIMENT.
their beads shaved, to a tree, put there for the purpose, with the prongs left on them, and one hand was stretched toward one prong and the other hand to another prong, their feet, perhaps, just touching the ground. The man who did the whipping had a thick piece of sole-leather, the end of which was cut in three strips, and this tacked on to the end of a paddle. After the charges and specifications had been read (both men being stark naked), the whipper "lit in" on Rube, who was the youngest. I do not think he intended to hit as hard as he did, but, being excited himself, he blistered Rube from head to foot. Thirty- nine lashes was always the number. Now, three times thirty- nine makes one hundred and seventeen. When he struck at all, one lick would make three whelps. When he had finished Rube, the Captain commanding the whipping squad told him to lay it on old man Brewer as light as the law would allow, that old man Brewer was so old that he would die — that he could not stand it. He struck old man Dave Brewer thirty-nine lashes, but they were laid on light. Old Dave didn't beg and squall like Rube did. He j-e-s-t did whip old man Dave. Like the old preacher who caught the bear on Sunday. They had him up before the church, agreed to let him off if he did not again set his trap. "Well," he said, "brethren, I j-e-s-t did set it."
EAIDING ON" EOASTINGEAES.
At this place General Bragg issued an order authorizing citizens to defend themselves against the depredations of sol- diers— to shoot them down if caught depredating.
Well, one day Byron Richardson and myself made a raid on an old citizen's roastingear patch. We had pulled about all the corn that we could carry. I had my arms full and was about starting for camp, when an old citizen raised up and said, "Stop there! drop that corn." He had a double-barreled shot- gun cocked and leveled at my breast.
"Come and go with me to General Bragg's headquarters. I intend to take you there, by the living God !"
I was in for it. Directed to go in front, I was being marched to Bragg's headquarters. I could see the devil in the
KENTUCKY. 47
old fellow's eye. I tried to beg off with good promises, but the old fellow was deaf to all entreaty. I represented to him all of our hardships and suffering. But the old fellow was inexorable. I was being steadily carried toward Bragg's headquarters. I was determined not to see General Bragg, even if the old citizen shot me in the back. When all at once a happy thought struck me. Says I, "Mister, Byron Richardson is in your field, and if you will go back we can catch him and you can take both of us to General Bragg." The old fellow's spunk was up. He had captured me so easy, he no doubt thought he could whip a dozen. We went back a short distance, and there was Byron, who had just climbed over the fence and had his arms full, when the old citizen, diverted from me, leveled his double-barrel at Byron, when I made a grab for his gun, which was accidentally dis- charged in the air, and with the assistance of Byron, we had the old fellow and his gun both. The table was turned. We made the old fellow gather as much as he could carry, and made him carry it nearly to camp, when we dismissed him, a wiser if not a better and richer man. We took his gun and bent it around a black jack tree. He was at the soldiers' mercy.
CHAPTER V.— KENTUCKY.
WE GO INTO KENTUCKY.
After being thoroughly reorganized at Tupelo, and the troops had recovered their health and spirits, we made an ad- vance into Kentucky. We took the cars at Tupelo and went to Mobile, from thence across Mobile Bay to Montgomery, Ala- bama, then to Atlanta, from there to Chattanooga, and then over the mountains afoot to the blue-grass regions of Kentucky — the
48 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
dark and bloody ground. Please remember, patient reader, that J write entirely from memory. I have no data or diary or any- thing to go by, and memory is a peculiar faculty. I find that I cannot remember towns and battles, and remember only the little things. I remember how gladly the citizens of Kentucky re- ceived us. I thought they had the prettiest girls that God ever made. They could not do too much for us. They had heaps and stacks of cooked rations along our route, with wine and cider everywhere, and the glad shouts of "Hurrah for our Southern boys !" greeted and welcomed us at every house. Ah, the boys felt like soldiers again. The bands played merrier and livelier tunes. It was the patient convalescing ; the fever had left him. he was getting fat and strong ; the old fire was seen to illuminate his eyes ; his step was buoyant and proud ; he felt ashamed that he had ever been "hacked ;" he could fight now. It was the same old proud soldier of yore. The bands played "Dixie" and the "Bonnie Blue Flag,'' the citizens cheered, and the ladies waved their handkerchiefs and threw us bouquets. Ah, those were halcyon days, and your old soldier, kind reader, loves to recall that happy period. Mumfordsville had been captured with five thousand prisoners. New recruits were continually joining our ranks.
Camp Dick Robinson, that immense pile of army stores, had fallen into our hands. We rode upon the summit of the wave of success. The boys had got clean clothes, and had their faces washed. I saw then what I had long since forgotten — a "cock- ade." The Kentucky girls made cockades for us, and almost every soldier had one pinned on his hat. But stirring events were hastening on, the black cloud of battle and war had begun then to appear much larger than a man's hand, in fact we could see the lightning flash and hear the thunder roar.
We were at Harrodsburg ; the Yankees were approaching Perryville under General Buell. The Yankees had been dog- ging our rear, picking up our stragglers and capturing some of our wagon trains.
'I'll is good time that we were having was too good to last We were in an ecstasy akin to heaven. We were happy; the
KENTUCKY. 49
troops were jubilant ; our manhood blood pulsated more warmly ; our patriotism was awakened ; our pride was renewed and stood ready for any emergency ; we felt that one Southern man could whip twenty Yankees. All was lovely and the goose hung high. We went to dances and parties every night.
When General Chalmers marched to Perry ville, in flanking and surrounding Mumfordsville, we marched the whole night long. We, the private soldiers, did not know what was going on among the generals. All that we had to do was march, march, march. It mattered not how tired, hungry, or thirsty we were. All that we had to do was to march that whole night long, and every staff officer who would pass, some fellow would say, "Hey. mister, how far is it to Mumfordsville?" He would answer, "five miles." It seemed to me we traveled a hundred miles and were always within five miles of Mumfordsville. That night we heard a volley of musketry in our immediate front, and did not know what it meant, but soon we came to where a few soldiers had lighted some candles and were holding them over the body of a dead soldier. It was Captain Allison, if I remem- ber rightly, of General Cheatham's staff. He was very bloody. and had his clothes riddled with balls. I heard that he rode on in front of the advance guard of our army, and had no doubt discovered the Yankee picket, and came galloping back at full speed in the dark, when our advance guard fired on and killed him.
We laid down in a graveyard that night and slept, and when we awoke the sun was high in the heavens, shining in our faces. Mumfordsville had surrendered. The next day Dr. C. T. Quin- tard let me ride his horse nearly all day, while he walked with the webfeet.
THE BATTLE OF PEREYVILLE.
In giving a description of this most memorable battle, I do not pretend to give you figures, and describe how this general looked and how that one spoke, and the other one charged with drawn sabre, etc. I know nothing of these things — see the his- tory for that. I was simply a soldier of the line, and I only Avrite of the things I saw. I was in every battle, skirmish and
50 CO. H., FIKST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
march that was made by the First Tennessee Regiment during the Avar, and I do not remember of a harder contest and more evenly fought battle than that of Perryville. If it had been two men wrestling, it would have been called a "dog fall." Both sides claim the victory — both whipped.
I stood picket in Perryville the night before the battle — a Yankee on one side of the street, and I on the other. We got very friendly during the night, and made a raid upon a citizen's pantry, where we captured a bucket of honey, a pitcher of sweet milk, and three or four biscuit. The old citizen was not at home — he and his whole household had gone visiting, I believe. In fact, I think all of the citizens of Perryville were taken with a sudden notion of promiscuous visiting about this time ; at least they were not at home to all callers.
At length the morning dawned. Our line was drawn up on one side of Perryville, the Yankee army on the other. The two enemies that were soon to meet in deadly embrace seemed to be eyeing each other. The blue coats lined the hillside in plain view. You could count the number of their regiments by the number of their flags. We could see the huge war dogs frowning at us, ready at any moment to belch forth their fire and smoke, and hurl their thunderbolts of iron and death in our very midst.
I wondered why the fighting did not begin. Never on earth were our troops more eager for the engagement to open. The Yankees commenced to march toward their left, and we marched almost parallel to our right — both sides watching each other's maneuvers and movements. It was but the lull that precedes the storm. Colonel. Field was commanding our bri- gade, and Lieutenant-Colonel Patterson our regiment. About 12 o'clock, while we were marching through a corn field, in which the corn had been shocked, they opened their war dogs upon us. The beginning of the end had come. Here is where Captain John F. Wheless was wounded, and three.others, whose names I have forgotten. The battle now opened in earnest, and from one end of the line to the other seemed to be a solid sheet of blazing smoke and fire. Our regiment crossed a stream, be-
KENTUCKY. 51
ing preceded by Wharton's Texas Rangers, and we were ordered to attack at Once with vigor. Here General Maney's horse was shot. From this moment the battle was a mortal struggle. Two lines of battle confronted us. We killed almost every one in the first line, and were soon charging over the second, when right in our immediate front was their third and main line of battle from which four Napoleon guns poured their deadly fire.
We did not recoil, but our line was fairly hurled back by the leaden hail that was poured into our very faces. Eight color-bearers were killed at one discharge of their cannon. We were right up among the very wheels of their Napoleon guns. It was death to retreat now to either side. Our Lieutenant- Colonel, Patterson, halloed to charge and take their guns, and we were soon in a hand-to-hand fight — every man for himself — using the butts of our guns and bayonets. One side would waver and fall back a few yards, and would rally, when the other side would fall back, leaving the four Napoleon guns ; and yet the battle raged. Such obstinate fighting I never had seen be- fore or since. The guns were discharged so rapidly that it seemed the earth itself was in a volcanic uproar. The iron storm passed through our ranks, mangling and tearing men to pieces. The very air seemed full of stifling smoke and fire, which seemed the very pit of hell, peopled by contending de- mons.
Our men were dead and dying right in the very midst of this grand havoc of battle. It was a life to life and death to death grapple. The sun was poised above us, a great red ball, sinking slowly in the west, yet the scene of battle and carnage continued. I cannot describe it. The mantle of night fell upon the scene. I do not know which side whipped, but I know that I helped bring off those four Napoleon guns that night, though we were mighty easy about it.
They were given to Turner's Battery of our brigade, and had the name of our Lieutenant-Colonel, Patterson, and our color-bearer, -Mitchell, both of whom were killed, inscribed on two of the pieces. I have forgotten the names inscribed on the other two pieces. I saw these very four guns surrendered at Missionary Ridge. But of this another time.
52 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
The battle of Perryville presented a strange scene. The dead, dying, and wounded of both armies, Confederate and Fed- eral, were blended in inextricable confusion. Now and then a cluster of dead Yankees and close by a cluster of dead Rebels. It was like the Englishman's grog — 'alf and 'alf. Now, if you wish, kind reader, to find out how many were killed and wound- ed, I refer you to the histories.
I remember one little incident that I laughed at while in the very midst of battle. We were charging through an old citizen's yard, when a big yellow cur dog ran out and commenced snapping at the soldiers' legs — they kicking at him to keep him off. The next morning he was lying near the same place, but he was a dead dog.
I helped bring off our wounded that night. We worked the whole night. The next morning about daylight a wounded comrade, Sam Campbell, complained of being cold, and asked me to lie down beside him. I did so, and was soon asleep ; when I awoke the poor fellow was stiff and cold in death. His spirit had flown to its home beyond the skies.
After the battle was over, John T. Tucker, Scott Stephens, A. S. Horsley and I were detailed to bring off our wounded that night, and we helped to bring off many a poor dying comrade — - Joe Thompson, Billy Bond, Byron Richardson, the two Allen boys — brothers, killed side by side — and Colonel Patterson, who was killed standing right by my side. He was first shot through the hand, and was wrapping his handkerchief around it, when another ball struck and killed him. I saw W. J. Whittorne then a strippling boy of fifteen years of age, fall, shot through the neck and collar-bone. He fell apparently dead, when I saw him all at once jump up, grab his gun and commence loading and firing, and I heard him say, "D — n 'em, I'll fight 'em as long as I live." Whit thought he was killed, but he is living yet. We helped bring off a man by the name of Hodge, with his under jaw shot off, and his tongue lolling out. We brought off Cap- tain Lute B. Irvine. Lute was shot through the lungs and was \ ••uniting blood all the while, and begging us to lay him down and let him die. But Lute is living yet. Also, Lieutenant
KENTUCKY. 53
Woklridge, with both eyes shot out. I found him rambling in a briar-patch. About fifty members of the Rock City Guards were killed and nearly one hundred wounded. They were led by Captains W. D. Kelley, Wheless, and Steele. Lieutenant Thomas H. Maney was badly wounded. I saw dead on the bat- tlefield a Federal General by the name of Jackson. It was his brigade that fought us so obstinately at this place, and I did hear that they were made up in Kentucky. Colonel Field, then com- manding our brigade, and on his fine gray mare, rode up almost face to face with General Jackson, before he was killed, and Colonel Field was shooting all the time with his seven-shooting rifle. I cannot tell the one-half, or even remember at this late date, the scenes of blood and suffering that I witnessed on the battlefield of Perryville. But its history, like all the balance, has gone into the history of the war, and it has been twenty years ago, and I write entirely from memory. I remember Lieutenant Joe P. Lee and Captain W. C. Flournoy standing right at the muzzle of the Napoleon guns, and the next moment seemed to be enveloped in smoke and fire from the discharge of the cannon. When the regiment recoiled under the heavy firing and at the first charge, Billy Webster and I stopped behind a large oak tree and continued to fire at the Yankees until the regi- ment was again charging upon the four Napoleon guns, heavily supported by infantry. We were not more than twenty paces from them ; and here I was shot through the hat and cartridge- box. I remember this, because at that time Billy and I were in advance of our line, and whenever we saw a Yankee rise to shoot, Ave shot him ; and I desire to mention here that a braver or more noble boy was never created on earth than was Billy Webster. Everybody liked him. He was the flower and chiv- alry of our regiment. His record as a brave and noble boy will ever live in the hearts of his old comrades that served with him in Company H. He is up yonder now, and we shall meet again. In these memoirs I only tell what I saw myself, and in this way the world will know the truth. Now, citizen, let me tell you what you never heard before, and this is this — there were many men with the rank and pay of general, who were not generals ;
54 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE EEGIMENT.
there were many men with the rank and pay of privates who would have honored and adorned the name of general. Now, I will state further that a private soldier was a private.
It mattered not how ignorant a corporal might be, he was always right ; it mattered not how intelligent the private might be (and so on up) ; the sergeant was right over the corporal, the sergeant-major over the sergeant, the lieutenant over him, and the captain over him, and the major over him, and the colonel over him, and the general over him, and so on up to Jeff Davis. You see, a private had no right to know anything; and that is why generals did all the fighting, and that is to-day why generals and colonels and captains are great men. They fought the battles of our country. The privates did not. The generals risked their reputation, the private soldier his life. No one ever saw a private in battle. His history would never be written. It was the generals that everybody gaw charge such and such, with drawn sabre, his eyes flashing fire, his nos- trils dilated, and his clarion voice ringing above the din of battle — "in a horn," over the left.
Bill Johns and Marsh Pinkard would have made Generals that would have distinguished themselves and been an honor to the country.
I know to-day many a private who would have made a good General. I know of many a General who was better fitted to be excused from detail and fights, to hang around a camp and draw rations for the company. A private had no way to distinguish himself. He had to keep in ranks, either in a charge or a re- treal. But now, as the Generals and Colonels fill all the posi- tions of honor and emoluments, the least I say, the better.
THE RETREAT OUT OF KENTUCKY.
From Perryville we went to Camp Dick Robinson and drew three days' rations, and then set fire to and destroyed all those great deposits of army stores which would have supplied the South for a year. We ate those rations and commenced our re- treat out of Kentucky with empty haversacks and still emptier stomachs.
We supposed our general and commissaries knew what
KENTUCKY. 55
they were doing, and at night Ave would again draw rations, but we didn't.
The Yankee cavalry are worrying our rear guards. There is danger of an attack at any moment. No soldier is allowed to break ranks.
We thought, well surely we will draw rations to-night. But we didn't. We are marching for Cumberland Gap; the country has long ago been made desolate by the alternate occu- pation of both armies. There are no provisions in the country. It has long since been laid waste. We wanted rations, but we did not get them.
Fourth day out — Cumberland Gap in the distance — a great indenture in the ranges of Cumberland mountains. The scene was grand. But grand scenery had but little attraction for a hungry soldier. Surely we will get rations at Cumberland Gap. Toil on up the hill, and when half way up the hill, "Halt !" — march back down to the foot of the hill to defend the cavalry. I was hungry. A cavalryman was passing our regiment with a pile of scorched dough on the pummel of his saddle. Says I, "Halt ! I am going to have a pattock of that bread." "Don't give it to him ! don't give it to him !" was yelled out from all sides. I cocked my gun and was about to raise it to my shoul- der, when he handed me over a pattock of scorched dough, and every fellow in Company H made a grab for it, and I only got about two or three moUthfuls. About dark a wild heifer ran by our regiment, and I pulled down on her. We killed and skinned her, and I cut off about five pounds of hindquarter. In three minutes there was no sign of that beef left to tell the tale. We ate that beef raw and without salt.
Only eight miles now to Cumberland Gap, and we will get rations now. But we didn't. We descended the mountain on the southern side. No rations yet.
Well, says I, this won't do me. I am going to hunt some- thing to eat, Bragg or no Bragg. I turned off the road and struck out through the country, but had gone but a short distance before I came across a group of soldiers clambering over some- thing. It was Tom Tuck with a barrel of sorghum that he had
50 CO. H.j FIRST TENNESSEE KEGIMENT.
captured from a good Union man. He was selling it out at five dollars a quart, I paid my five dollars, and by pushing and Bcrouging I finally got my quart. I sat down and drank it; it was bully; it was not so good; it was not worth a cent; I was sick, and have never loved sorghum since.
Along the route it was nothing but tramp, tramp, tramp, and no sound or noise but the same inevitable, monotonous tramp, tramp, tramp, up hill and down hill, through long and < lusty lanes, weary, wornout and hungry. No cheerful warble of a merry songster would ever greet our ears. It was always tramp, tramp, .tramp. You might, every now and then, hear the occasional words, "close up ;" but outside of that, it was but the same tramp, tramp, tramp. I have seen soldiers fast asleep, and no doubt dreaming of home and loved ones there, as they s!ai:irered along in their places in the ranks. I know that on many a weary night's march I have slept, and slept soundly, while marching along in my proper place in the ranks. of the company, stepping to the same step as the soldier in front of me did. Sometimes, when weary., broken down and worn out, some member of the regiment would start a tune, and every man would join in. John Branch was usually the leader of the choir. He would commence a beautiful tune. The words, as I remember them now, were, "Dear Paul, Just Twenty Years Ago." After singing this piece he would commence on a lively, spirit-stirring air to the tune of "Old Uncle Ned." Now, reader, it has been twenty years ago since I heard it, but I can remember a part of it now. Here it is :
"There was an ancient individual whose cognomen was Uncle Edward. He departed this life long since, long since. He had no capillary substance on the top of his cranium, The place where the capillary substance ought to vegetate.
His digits were as long as the bamboo piscatorial implement of the Southern
Mississippi. He had no oculars to observe the beauties of nature. Hi' had no ossified formation to masticate his daily rations, So he had to let his dally rations pass by with impunity."
Walker Coleman raises the tune of "I'se a gwine to jine the rebel band, a fightin' for my home."
Now, reader, the above is all I can now remember of that very beautiful and soul-stirring air. But the boys would wake
KENTUCKY. 57
up and step quicker and livelier for some time, and Arthur Ful- glium would holloa cut, "All right ; go ahead !" and then would toot ! toot ! as if the cars were starting — puff ! puff ! puff ! and then he would say, "Tickets, gentlemen; tickets, gentlemen." like he was conductor on a train of cars. This little episode would be over, and then would commence the same tramp, tramp, tramp, all night long. Step by step, step by step, we continued to plod and nod and stagger and march, tramp, tramp, tramp. After a while we would see the morning star rise in the east, and then after a while the dim gray twilight, and finally we could discover the outlines of our file leader, and after a while could make out the outlines of trees and other objects. And as it would get lighter and lighter, and day would be about to break, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, would come from Tom Tuck's rooster. [Tom carried a game rooster, that he called "Fed" for Confed- eracy, all through the war in a haversack.] And then the sun would begin to shoot his slender rays athwart the eastern sky, and the boys would wake up and begin laughing and talking as if they had just risen from a good feather bed, and were per- fectly refreshed and happy. We would usually stop at some branch or other about breakfast time, and all wash our hands and faces and eat breakfast, if we had any, and then commence our weary march again. If we were halted for one minute, every soldier would drop down, and resting on his knapsack, would go to sleep. Sometimes the sleeping soldiers were made to get up to let some general and his staff pass by. But when- ever that was the case, the general always got a worse cursing than when ]^oah cursed his son Ham black and blue. I heard Jesse Ely do this once.
We march on. The scene of a few days ago comes unbidden to my mind. Tramp, tramp, tramp, the soldiers are marching. Where are many of my old friends and comrades, whose names were so familiar at every roll call, and whose familiar "Here" is no more ? They lie yonder at Perryville, unburied, on the field of battle. They lie where they fell. More than three hundred and fifty members of my regiment, the First Tennessee, num- bered among the killed and wounded — one hundred and eighty-
58 CO. H., FIBST TENNESSEE EEGIMENT.
five slain 011 the field of battle. Who are they % Even then I had to try to think np the names of all the slain of Company H alone. Their spirits seemed to be with us on the march, but we know that their souls axe with their God. Their bones, to-day. no doubt, bleach upon the battlefield. They left their homes, families, and loved ones a little more than one short twelve months ago, dressed in their gray uniforms, amid the applause and cheering farewells of those same friends. They lie yonder ; no friendly hands ever closed their eyes in death ; no kind, gen- tle, and loving mother was there to shed a tear over and say farewell to her darling boy ; no sister's gentle touch ever wiped the death damp from off their dying brows. Noble boys ; brave boys ! They willingly gave their lives to their country's cause. Their bodies and bones are mangled and torn by the rude mis- siles of war. They sleep the sleep of the brave. They have given their all to their country. We miss them from our ranks. There are no more hard marches and scant rations for them. They have accomplished all that could be required of them. They are no more; their names are soon forgotten. They are put down in the roll-book as killed. They are forgotten. We will see them no more until the last reveille on the last morning of the final resurrection. Soldiers, comrades, friends, noble boys, farewell! we will meet no more on earth, but up yonder some day we will have a grand reunion.
KNOXVILLE.
The first night after crossing Cumberland Gap — I have for- gotten the date, but I know it was very early in the fall of the year ; we had had no frost or cold weather, and our marches all through Kentucky had been characterized by very dry weather, it not having rained a drop on us during the whole time — about four o'clock in the morning it began to snow, and the next morn- ing the ground was covered with a deep snow; the trees and grass and everything of the vegetable kingdom still green.
When we got back to Knoxville we were the lousiest, dirti- est, raggedest looking Rebels you ever saw. I had been shot through the hat and cartridge-box at Perryville, and had both on, and the clothing I then had on was all that I had in the
KENTUCKY. 59
world. William A. Hughes and I were walking up the street looking at the stores, etc., when we met two of the prettiest girls I ever saw. They ran forward with smiling faces, and seemed very glad to see us. I thought they were old acquaintances of Hughes, and Hughes thought they were old acquaintances of mine. We were soon laughing and talking as if we had been old friends, when one of the young ladies spoke up and said. "Gentlemen, there is a supper for the soldiers at the Ladies' Association rooms, and we are sent out to bring in all the soldiers we can find." We spoke up quickly and said, "Thank you, thank you, young ladies," and I picked out the prettiest one and said, "Please take my arm," which she did, and Hughes did the same with the other one, and we went in that style down the street. I imagine we were a funny looking sight. I know one thing, I felt good all over, and as proud as a boy with his first pants, and when we got to that supper room those young ladies waited on us, and we felt as grand as kings. To you, ladies, I say, God bless you!
AH, "SNEAK."
Almost every soldier in the army — generals, colonels, cap- tains, as well as privates — had a nick-name ; and I almost believe that had the war continued ten years, we would have forgotten our proper names. John T. Tucker was called "Sneak," A. S. Horsley was called "Don Von One Horsley," W. A. Hughes was called "Apple Jack," Green Rieves was called "Devil Horse." the surgeon of our regiment was called "Old Snake," Bob Brank was called "Count," the colonel of the Fourth was called "Guide Post," E. L. Lansdown was called "Left Tenant," some were called, by the name of "Greasy," some "Buzzard," others "Hog," and "Brutus," and "Cassius," and "Caesar," "Left Center," and "Bolderdust," and "Old Hannah ;" in fact, the nick-names were singular and peculiar, and when a man got a nick-name it stuck to him like the Old Man of the Sea did to the shoulders of Sin- bad, the sailor.
On our retreat the soldiers got very thirsty for tobacco (they always used the word thirsty), and they would sometimes come across an old field off which the tobacco had been cut and
60 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the suckers had re-sprouted from the old stalk, and would cut off these suckers and dry them by the fire and chew them. "Sneak" had some how or other got hold of a plug or two, and knowing that he would be begged for a chew, had cut it up in little bits of pieces about one-fourth of a chew. Some fellow would say, "Sneak, please give me a chew of tobacco." Sneak would say, "I don't believe I have a piece left," and then he would begin to feel in his pockets. He would pull that hand out and feel in another pocket, and then in his coat pockets, and hid away down in an odd corner of his vest pocket he would accidentally find a little chew, just big enough to make "spit come." Sneak had his pockets full all the time. The boys soon found out his in- uendoes and subterfuges, but John would all the time appear as innocent of having tobacco as a pet lamb that has just torn down a nice vine that you were so careful in training to run over the front porch. Ah, John, don't deny it now!
I JINE THE CAVALRY.
When we got to Charleston, on the Hiwassee river, there we found the First Tennessee Cavalry and Mnth Battalion, both of which had been made up principally in Maury county, and we knew all the boys. We had a good old-fashioned hand- shaking all around. Then I wanted to "jine the cavalry." < ;i plain Asa G. Freeman had an extra horse, and I got on him and joined the cavalry for several days, but all the time some passing cavalryman would make some jocose remark about "Here is a webfoot who wants to jine the cavalry, and has got a bayonet on his gun and a knapsack on his back." I felt like I had got into the wrong pen, but anyhow I got to ride all of three days. I n member that Mr. Willis B. Embry gave me a five-pound package of Kallickanick smoking tobacco, for which I was very grateful. I think he was quartermaster of the First Tennessee Cavalry, and as good a man and as clever a person as I ever knew. None knew him but to love him. I was told that he was killed by a lot of Yankee soldiers after he had surrendered to them, all the time begging for his life, asking them please not kill him. But Tie that noteth the sparrow's fall doeth all things well. Not one ever falls to the ground with His consent.
MURFREESBORO. 61
CHAPTER VI.— MURFREESBORO.
MURFREESBORO.
We came from Knoxville to Chattanooga, and seemed des- tined to make a permanent stay here. We remained several months, but soon we were on the tramp again.
From Chattanooga, Bragg's army went to Murfreesboro.
The Federal army was concentrating at Nashville. There was no rest for the weary. Marches and battles were the order of the day.
Our army stopped at Murfreesboro. Our advanced outpost was established at Lavergne. From time to time different regi- ments were sent forward to do picket duty. I was on picket at the time the advance was made by Rosecrans. At the time men- tioned, I was standing about two hundred yards off the road, the main body of the pickets being on the Nashville and Mur- freesboro turnpike, and commanded by Lieutenant Hardy Mur- free, of the Rutherford Rifles.
I had orders to allow no one to pass. In fact, no one was expected to pass at this point, but while standing at my post, a horseman rode up behind me. I halted him, and told him to go down to the main picket on the road and pass, but he seemed so smiling that I thought he knew me, or had a good joke to tell me. He advanced up, and pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, handed it to me to read. It was an order from General Leonidas Polk to allow the bearer to pass. I read it, and looked up to hand it back to him, when I discovered that he had a pistol cocked and leveled in my face, and says he, "Drop that gun ; you are my prisoner." I saw there was no use in fooling about it. I knew if I resisted he would shoot me, and I thought then that he was about to perform that detestable operation. I dropped
the gun.
I did not wish to spend my winter in a Northern prison,
62 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE BEGIMENT.
and what was worse, I would be called a deserter from my post of duty.
The Yankee picket lines were not a half mile off. I was perfectly willing to let the spy go on his way rejoicing — for such he was — but he wanted to capture a Rebel.
And I had made up my mind to think likewise. There I was, a prisoner sure, and no mistake about it.
His pistol was leveled, and I was ordered to march. I was afraid to halloo to the relief, and you may be sure I was in a bad fix.
Finally says I, "Let's play quits. I think you are a sol- dier ; you look like a gentleman. I am a videt ; you know the responsibility resting on me. You go your way, and leave me here. Is it a bargain ?"
Says he, "I would not trust a Secesh on his word, oath, or bond. March, I say."
I soon found out that he had caught sight of the relief on the road, and was afraid to shoot. I quickly made up my mind. My gun was at my feet, and one step would get it. I made a quick glance over my shoulder, and grabbed at my gun. He divined my motive, and fired. The ball missed its aim. He put spurs to his horse, but I pulled down on him, and almost tore the fore shoulder of his horse entirely off, but I did not cap- ture the spy, though I captured the horse, bridle and saddle. Major Allen, of the Twenty-seventh Tennessee Regiment, took the saddle and bridle, and gave me the blanket. I remember the blanket had the picture of a "big lion" on it, and it was al- most new. When we fell back, as the Yankee sharpshooters advanced, we left the poor old horse nipping the short, dry grass. I saw a Yankee skirmisher run up and grab the horse and give a whoop as if he had captured a Rebel horse. But they continued to advance upon us, we firing and retreating slowly. We had several pretty sharp brushes with them that day. I remember that they had to cross an open field in our front, and we were lying behind a fence, and as they advanced, we kept up firing, and would run them back every time, until they brought up a regiment that whooped, and yelled, and charged our skirmish
MURFREESBORO. 63
line, and then we fell back again. I think we must have killed a good many in the old field, because we were firing all the time at the solid line as they advanced upon us.
BATTLE OF MURFREESBORO.
The next day, the Yankees were found out to be advancing. Soon they came in sight of our picket. We kept falling back and firing all day, and were relieved by another regiment about dark. We rejoined our regiment. Line of battle was formed on the north bank of Stone's River — on the Yankee side. Bad generalship, I thought.
It was Christmas. John Barleycorn was general-in-chief. Our generals, and colonels, and captains, had kissed John a lit- tle too often. They couldn't see straight. It was said to be buckeye whisky. They couldn't tell our own men from Yan- kees. The private could, but he was no general, you see. But here they were — the Yankees — a battle had to be fought. We were ordered forward. I was on the skirmish line. We marched plumb into the Yankee lines, with their flags flying.
I called Lieutenant-Colonel Frierson's attention to the Yan- kees, and he remarked, "Well, I don't know whether they are Yankees or not, but if they are, they will come out of there mighty quick."
The Yankees marched over the hill out of sight.
We were ordered forward to the attack. We were right upon the Yankee line on the Wilkerson turnpike. The Yankees were shooting our men down by scores. A universal cry was raised, "You are firing on your own men." "Cease firing, cease firing," I hallooed ; in fact, the whole skirmish line hallooed, and kept on telling them that they were Yankees, and to shoot ; but the order was to cease firing, you are firing on your own men.
Captain James, of Cheatham's staff, was sent forward and killed in his own yard. We were not twenty yards off from the Yankees, and they were pouring the hot shot and shells right into our ranks; and every man was yelling at the top of his voice, "Cease firing, you are firing on your own men ; cease fir- ing, you are firing on your own men."
Oakley, color-bearer of the Fourth Tennessee Regiment, ran
64 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
right up in the midst of the Yankee line with his colors, begging his men to follow. I hallooed till I was hoarse, "They are Yan- kees, they are Yankees ; shoot, they are Yankees."
The crest occupied by the Yankees was belching loud with fire and smoke, and the Rebels were falling like leaves of autumn in a hurricane. The leaden hail storm swept them off the field They fell back and re-formed. General Cheatham came up and advanced. I did not fall back, but continued to load and shoot, until a fragment of a shell struck me on the arm, and then a minnie ball passed through the same, paralyzing my arm, and wounded and disabled me. General Cheatham, all the time, was calling on the men to go forward, saying, "Come on, boys, and follow me."
The impression that General Frank Cheatham made upon my mind, leading the charge on the Wilkerson turnpike, I will never forget. I saw either victory or death written on his face. When I saw him leading our brigade, although I was wounded at the time, I felt sorry for him, he seemed so earnest and con- cerned, and as he was passing me I said, "Well, General, if you are determined to die, I'll die with you." We were at that time at least a hundred yards in advance of the brigade, Cheatham all the time calling upon the men to come on. He was leading the charge in person. Then it was that I saw the power of one man, born to command, over a multitude of men then almost routed and demoralized. I saw and felt that he was not fighting for glory, but that he was fighting for his country, because he loved that country, and he was willing to give his life for his country and the success of our cause. He deserves a wreath of immor- tality, and a warm place in every Southron's heart, for his brave and glorious example on that bloody battlefield of Murf reesboro. Yes, his history will ever shine in beauty and grandeur as a name among the brightest in all the galaxy of leaders in the his- tory of our cause.
Now, another fact I will state, and that is, when the private soldier was ordered to charge and capture the twelve pieces of artillery, heavily supported by infantry, Maney's brigade raised a whoop and yell, and swooped down on those Yankees like a
MURFREESB0R0. 65
whirl-a-gust of woodpeckers in a hail storm, paying the blue- coated rascals back with compound interest; for when they did come, every man's gun was loaded, and they marched upon the blazing crest in solid file, and when they did fire, there was a sudden lull in the storm of battle, because the Yankees were nearly all killed. I cannot remember now of ever seeing more dead men and horses and captured cannon, all jumbled together, than that scene of blood and carnage and battle on the Wilkerson turnpike. The ground was literally covered with blue coats dead; and, if I remember correctly, there were eighty dead horses.
By this time our command had re-formed, and charged the blazing crest.
The spectacle was grand. With cheers and shouts they charged up the hill, shooting down and bayoneting the flying cannoneers, General Cheatham, Colonel Field and Joe Lee cut- ting and slashing with their swords. The victory was complete. The whole left wing of the Federal army was driven back five miles from their original position. Their dead and wounded were in our lines, and we had captured many pieces of artillery, small arms, and prisoners.
When I was wounded, the shell and shot that struck me, knocked me winding. I said, "O, O, I'm wounded," and at the same time I grabbed my arm. I thought it had been torn from my shoulder. The brigade had fallen back about two hundred yards, when General Cheatham's presence reassured them, and they soon were in line and ready to follow so brave and gallant a leader, and had that order of "cease firing, you are firing on your own men," not been given, Maney's brigade would have had the honor of capturing eighteen pieces of artillery, and ten thousand prisoners. This I do know to be a fact.
As I went back to the field hospital, I overtook another man walking along. I do not know to what regiment he belonged, but I remember of first noticing that his left arm was entirely gone. His face was as white as a sheet. The breast and sleeve of his coat had been torn away, and I could see the frazzled end of his shirt sleeve, which appeared to be sucked into the wound. I
66 CO. H., FIBST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
looked at it pretty close, and I said "Great God !" for I could see his heart throb, and the respiration of his lungs. I was filled with wonder and horror at the sight. He was walking along, when all at once he dropped down and died without a struggle or a groan. I could tell of hundreds of such incidents of the battle- field, but tell only this one, because I remember it so distinctly.
EOBBING A DEAD YANKEE.
In passing over the battlefield, I came across a dead Yankee colonel. He had on the finest clothes I ever saw, a red sash and tine sword. I particularly noticed his boots. I needed them, and had made up my mind to wear them out for him. But I could not bear the thought of wearing dead men's shoes. I took hold of the foot and raised it up and made one trial at the boot to get it off. I happened to look up, and the colonel had his eyes wide open, and seemed to be looking at me. He was stone dead, but I dropped that foot quick. It was my first and last attempt to rob a dead Yankee.
After the battle was over at Murf reesboro, that night, John Tucker and myself thought that we would investigate the con- tents of a fine brick mansion in our immediate front, but between our lines and the Yankees', and even in advance of our videts Before we arrived at the house we saw a body of Yankees ap- proaching, and as we started to run back they fired upon us Our pickets had run in and reported a night attack. We ran forward, expecting that our men would recognize us, but they opened fire upon us. I never was as bad scared in all my whole life, and if any poor devil ever prayed with fervency and true piety, I did it on that occasion. I thought, "I am between two fires." I do not think that a flounder or pancake wras half as flat as I was that night ; yea, it might be called in music, low flat.
SHELBYVILLE. 67
CHAPTER VII.— SHELBYVILLE.
SHELBYVILLE.
It is a bad thing for an army to remain too long at one place. The men soon become discontented and unhappy, and we had no diversion or pastime except playing poker and chuck- a-luck. All the money of the regiment had long ago been spent, but grains of corn represented dollars, and with these we would play as earnestly and as zealously as if they were so much money, sure enough.
A FOOT RACE.
One of those amusing episodes that frequently occur in the arm}', happened at this place. A big strapping fellow by the name of Tennessee Thompson, always carried bigger burdens than any other five men in the army. For example, he carried two quilts, three blankets, one gum oil cloth, one overcoat, one axe/ one hatchet, one camp-kettle, one oven and lid, one coffee pot, besides his knapsack, haversack, canteen, gun, cartridge-box, and three days' rations. He was a rare bird, anyhow. Tennes- see usually had his hair cut short on one side and left long on the other, so that he could give his head a bow and a toss and throw the long hairs over on the other side, and it would naturally part itself without a comb. Tennessee was the wit and good nature of the company ; always in a good humor, and ever ready to do any duty when called upon. In fact, I would sometimes get out of heart and low spirited, and would hunt up Tennessee to have a little fun. His bye-word was "Bully for Bragg; he's hell on retreat, and will whip the Yankees yet." He was a good and brave soldier, and followed the fortunes of Company H from the beginning to the end.
Well, one day he and Billy Webster bet twenty-five dollars, put up in Bill Martin's hands, as to which could run the faster. John Tucker, Joe Lee, Alf . Horsley and myself were appointed
68 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
judges. The distance was two hundred yards. The ground was measured off, and the judges stationed. Tennessee undressed himself, even down to his stocking feet, tied a red handkerchief around his head, and another one around his waist, and walked deliberately down the track, eyeing every little rock and stick and removing them off the track. Comes back to the starting- point and then goes down the track in half canter ; returns again his eyes flashing, his nostrils dilated, looking the impersonation of the champion courser of the world ; makes two or three appar- ently false starts; turns a somersault by placing his head on the ground and flopping over on his back ; gets up and whickers like a horse; goes half-hammered, hop, step, and jump — he says, to loosen up his joints — scratches up the ground with his hands and feet, flops his arms and crows like a rooster, and says, "Bully for Bragg; he's hell on a retreat," and announces his readiness. The drum is tapped, and off they start. Well, Billy Webster beat him one hundred yards in the two hundred, and Tennessee came back and said, "Well, boys, I'm beat ; Billy Martin, hand over the stakes to Billy Webster. I'm beat, but hang me if 1 didn't outrun the whole Yankee army coming out of Kentucky ; got away from Lieutenant Lansdown and the whole detail at Chattanooga with half a hog, a fifty pound sack of flour, a jug of Meneesee commissary whisky, and a camp-kettle full of brown sugar. I'm beat. Billy Martin, hand over the stakes. Bully for Bragg ; he's hell on a retreat." Tennessee was trying bluff. He couldn't run worth a cent ; but there was no braver or truer man ever drew a ramrod or tore a cartridge than Tennessee.
EATING MUSSELS.
Reader, did you ever eat a mussel ? Well, we did, at Shcl- byville. We were camped right upon the bank of Duck river, and one day Fred Dornin, Ed Voss, Andy Wilson and I went in the river mussel hunting. Every one of us had a meal sack. We would feel down with our feet until we felt a mussel and then dive for it. We soon filled our sacks with mussels in their shells. When we got to camp we cracked the shells and took out the mussels. We tried frying them, but the longer they fried the tougher they got. They were a little too large to swallow whole.
SHELBYVILLE. 69
Then we stewed them, and after a while we boiled them, and then we baked them, but every flank movement we would make on those mussels the more invulnerable they would get. We tried cutting them up with a hatchet, but they were so slick and tough the hatchet would not cut them. Well, we cooked them, and buttered them, and salted them, and peppered them, and battered them. They looked good, and smelt good, and tasted good; at least the fixings we put on them did, and we ate the mussels. I went to sleep that night. I dreamed that my stomach was four grindstones, and that they turned in four directions, according to the four corners of the earth. I awoke to hear four men yell out, "O, save, O, save me from eating any more mussels !"
"poor" berry morgan.
One of those sad, unexpected affairs, that remind the living that even in life we are in the midst of death, happened at Shel- hyville. Our regiment had been out to the front, on duty, and was returning to camp. It was nearly dark, and we saw a black wind cloud rising. The lightning's flash and the deep mutterina thunders warned us to seek shelter as speedily as possible. Some of us ran in under the old depot shed, and soon the storm struck us. It was a tornado that made a track through the woods be- yond Shelby ville, and right through the town, and we could fol- low its course for miles where it had blown down the timber, twisting and piling it in every shape. Berry Morgan and I had ever been close friends, and we threw down our blankets and were lying side by side, when I saw roofs of houses, sign boards, and brickbats flying in every direction. Nearly half of the town was blown away in the storm. While looking at the storm with- out, I felt the old shed suddenly jar and tremble, and suddenly become unroofed, and it seemed to me that ten thousand brick- bats had fallen in around us. I could hear nothing for the roar- ing of the storm, and could see nothing for the blinding rain and flying dirt and bricks and other rubbish. The storm lasted but :i few minutes, but those minutes seemed ages. When it had passed, I turned to look at "poor Berry." Poor fellow ! his head was crushed in by a brickbat, his breast crushed in by another, nn<l I think his arm was broken, and he was otherwise mutilated.
70 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
It was a sad sight. .Many others of our regiment were wounded. Berry was a very handsome boy. He was what everybody would call a ''pretty man." He had fair skin, blue eyes, and fine curly hair, which made him look like an innocent child. I loved Berry. He was my friend — as true as the needle to the pole. But God, who doeth all things well, took his spirit in the midst of the storm to that beautiful home beyond the skies. I thank God I am no infidel. We will meet again.
WRIGHT SHOT TO DEATH WITH MUSKETRY.
I saw a young boy about seventeen or eighteen years old, by the name of Wright, and belonging to General Marcus J. Wright's brigade, shot to death with musketry at this place. The whole of Cheatham's division had to march out and witness the horrid scene. Xow, I have no doubt that many, if not all. would have gone without being forced to do so, but then you know that was Bragg's style. He wanted always to display his tyranny, and to intimidate" his privates as much as possible. The young man was hauled in a wagon, sitting on his coffin, to the place where the grave was to be dug, and a post was planted in the ground. He had to sit there for more than two hours, looking on at the preparations for his death. I went up to the wagon, like many others, to have a look at the doomed man. He had his hat pulled down over his eyes, and was busily picking at the ends of his fingers. The guard who then had him in charge told me that one of the culprit's own brothers was one of the detail to shoot him. I went up to the wagon and called him, "Wright !" He made no reply, and did not even look up. Then
I said, "Wright, why don't you jump out of that wagon and run?" He was callous to everything. I was sorry for him When the division was all assembled, and the grave dug, and the post set, he was taken out of the wagon, and tied to the post.
I I e was first tied facing the post, and consequently would have been shot in the back, but was afterwards tied with his back to the post The chaplain of the regiment read a chapter in the Bible, sang a hymn, and then all knelt down and prayed. General Wright went up to the pinioned man, shook hands with him, and told him good-bye, as did many others, and then the
8HELBYVILLE. 71
shooting detail came up, and the officer in charge gave the com- mand, "Ready, aim, fire !" The crash of musketry hroke upon the morning air. I was looking at Wright. I heard him almost shriek, "O, O, God !" His head dropped forward, the rope with which he was pinioned keeping him from falling. I turned away and thought how long, how long will I have to witness these things ?
DAVE SUBLETT PROMOTED.
While at Shelbyville, a vacancy occurring in Captain Led- better's company, the Rutherford Rifles, for fourth corporal, Dave Sublett became a candidate for the position. Now, Dave was a genius. He was a noble and brave fellow, and at one time had been a railroad director. He had a distinguished air always about him, but Dave had one fault, and that was, he was ever prone to get tight. He had been a Union man, and even now he always had a good word for the Union. He was sin- cere, but eccentric. The election for fourth corporal was draw- ing nigh. Dave sent off and got twro jugs of spirits vini fru- menti, and treated the boys. Of course, his vote would be solid. Every man in that company was going to cast his vote for him. Dave got happy and wanted to make a speech. He went to the butcher's block which was used to cut up meat on — he called it Butchers' Hall — got upon it amid loud cheering and hurrahs of the boys. He spoke substantially as follows :
"Fellow Citizens — I confess that it is with feelings of diffi- dence and great embarrassment on my part that I appear before you on* this occasion. But, gentlemen and fellow-citizens, I desire to serve you in an humble capacity, as fourth corporal of Company I. Should you see cause to elect me, no heart will beat with more gratitude than my own. Gentlemen, you well know that I was ever a Union man :
" 'A union of lakes, and a union of lands. A union that no one can sever; A union of hearts, and a union of hands, A glorious union forever.'
[Cheers and applause.]
"Fellow-citizens, I can look through the dim telescope of
72 CO. K., FIEST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
the past and see Kansas, bleeding Kansas, coming like a fair young bride, dressed in her bridal drapery, her cheek wet and moistened with the tears of love. I can see her come and knock gently at the doors of the Union, asking for admittance. [Wild cheering.] Looking further back, I can see our forefathers of the revolution baring their bosoms to the famine of a seven years' war, making their own bosoms a breastwork against the whole hosts of King George III. But, gentlemen, as I before remarked, I desire to ask at your hands the high, distinguished and lucrative office, my fellow-citizens, and for which I will ever feel grateful — the office of fourth corporal in your company." [Cheers.]
Now, Dave had a competitor who was a states' rights demo- crat. If I mistake not, his name was Frank Haliburton. Now, Frank was an original secessionist. He felt that each state was a separate, sovereign government of itself, and that the South had the same rights in the territories as they of the North. He was fighting for secession and state rights upon principle. When Sublett had finished his speech, Frank took the stand and said:
"Gentlemen and Fellow-Citizens — I am a candidate for fourth corporal, and if you will elect me I will be grateful, and will serve you to the best of my ability. My competitor seems to harp considerably upon his Union record, and Union love. If I mistake not, my fellow-citizens, it was old George McDuffie that -rood up in the senate chamber of the United States and said, 'When I hear the shout of "glorious Union," methinks I hear the shout of a robber gang.' McDuffie saw through his prophetic vision the evils that would result, and has foretold them as if by inspiration from above.
"Fellow-citizens, under the name of Union our country is invaded to-day.
"These cursed Yankees are invading our country, robbing <>ur people, and desolating our land, and all under the detestable and damning name of Union. Our representatives in congress have been fighting them for fifty years. Compromise after com- promise has been granted by the South. We have used every
SHELBY VILLE. 73
effort to conciliate those at the North. They have turned a deaf ear to every plea. They saw our country rich and prosperous, and have come indeed, like a gang of robbers, to steal our prop- erty and murder our people. But, fellow-citizens, I for one am ready to meet them, and desire that you elect me fourth corporal of Company I, so that I can serve you in a more efficient man- ner, while we meet as a band of brothers, the cursed horde of Northern Hessians and hirelings. I thank you for your atten- tion, gentlemen, and would thank you for your votes."
Well, the election came off, and Dave was elected by an overwhelming majority. But the high eminence of military distinction enthralled him. He seemed to live in an atmosphere of greatness and glory, and was looking eagerly forward to the time when he would command armies. He had begun to climb the ladder of glory under most favorable and auspicious circum- stances. He felt his consequence and keeping. He was detailed once, and only once, to take command of the third relief of camp guard. Ah, this thing of office was a big thing. He desired to hold a council of war with Generals Bragg, Polk, Hardee, and Kirby Smith. He first visited General Polk. His war metal was up. He wanted a fight just then and there, and a fight he must have, at all hazards, and to the last extremity. He became obstreperous, when General Polk called a guard and had him marched off to the guard-house. It was then ordered that he should do extra fatigue duty for a week. The guard would take him to the woods with an ax, and he would make two or three chops on a tree and look up at it and say:
"Woodman, spare that tree; touch not a single bough; In youth it sheltered me. and I'll protect it now."
He would then go to another tree ; but at no tree would he make more than two or three licks before he would go to another. He would hit a limb and then a log ; would climb a tree and cut at a limb or two, and keep on this way until he came to a hard old stump, which on striking his ax would bound and spring back. He had found his desire; the top of that stump became fun and pleasure. Well, his time of misdemeanor expired and he was
74 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
relieved, lie went back and reported to Colonel Field, who informed him that he had been reduced to the ranks. He drew himself up to his full height and said : "Colonel, I regret ex- ceedingly to be so soon deprived of my new fledged honors that I have won on so many a hard fought and bloody battlefield, but if I am reduced to the ranks as a private soldier, I can but ex- claim, like Moses of old, when he crossed the Red sea in defiance of Pharaoh's hosts, 'O, how the mighty have fallen !' ' He then marched off with the air of the born soldier.
DOWN DUCK RIVER IN A CANOE.
"Ora pro nobis.''
At this place, Duck river wended its way to Columbia. On one occasion it was up — had on its Sunday clothes — a-booming. Andy Wilson and I thought that we would slip off aud go down the river in a canoe. We got the canoe and started. It was a leaky craft. We had not gone far before the thing capsized, and we swam ashore. But we were outside of the lines now, and without passes. (We would have been arrested anyhow.) So we put our sand paddles to work and landed in Columbia that night. I loved a maid, and so did Andy, and some poet has said that love laughs at grates, bars, locksmiths, etc. I do not know how true this is, but I do know that when I went to see my sweet- heart that night I asked her to pray for me, because I thought the prayers of a pretty woman would go a great deal further "up yonder" than mine would. I also met Cousin Alice, another beautiful woman, at my father's front gate, and told her that she must pray for me, because I knew I would be court-martialed as soon as I got back ; that I had no idea of deserting the army and only wanted to see the maid I loved. It took me one day to go to Columbia and one day to return, and I stayed at home only one day, and went back of my own accord. When I got back to Shelbyville, I was arrested and carried to the guard-house, and when court-martialed* was sentenced to thirty days' fatigue duty and to forfeit four months' pay at eleven dollars per month, mak- ing forty-four dollars. Now, you see how dearly I paid for that. trip. But, fortunately for me, General Leonidas Polk has
SHELBYVILLE. 75
issued an order that very day promising pardon to all soldiers absent without leave if they would return. I got the guard to march me up to his headquarters and told him of my predica- ment, and he ordered my release, but said nothing of remitting the fine. So when we were paid off at Chattanooga I was left out The Confederate States of America were richer by forty- four dollars.
"SHENEKAL OWLEYDOUSKY."
General Owleydousky, lately imported from Poland, was Bragg's inspector general. I remember of reading in the news- papers of where he tricked Bragg at last. The papers said he stole all of Bragg's clothes one day and left for parts unknown. It is supposed he went back to Poland to act as "Ugh ! Big In- dian ; fight heap mit Bragg." But I suppose it must have left Bragg in a bad fix — somewhat like Mr. Jones, who went to ask the old folks for Miss Willis. On being told that she was a very poor girl, and had no property for a start in life, he simply said. "All right; all I want is the naked girl."
On one occasion, while inspecting the arms and accoutre- ments of our regiment, when he came to inspect Company H he said, "Shentlemens, vat for you make de pothook out of de sword and de bayonet, and trow de cartridge-box in de mud ? I dust report you to Sheneral Bragg. Mine gracious !" Ap- proaching Orderly Sergeant John T. Tucker, and lifting the flap of his cartridge box, which was empty, he said, "Bah, bah, mon Dieu ; I dust know dot you ish been hunting de squirrel and de rabbit. Mon. Dieu! you sharge yourself mit fifteen tollars for wasting sixty cartridges at twenty-five cents apiece. Bah, bah. mon Dieu ; I dust report you to Sheneral Bragg." Approaching Sergeant A. S. Horsley, he said, "Vy ish you got nodings mit your knapsack ? Sir, you must have somedings mit your knap- sack." Alf ran into his tent and came back with his knapsack in the right shape. Well, old Owleydousky thought he would be smart, and make an example of Alf, and said, "I vish to in- spect your clodings." He took Alf's knapsack and on opening it. what do you suppose was in it ? Well, if you are not a Yankee and good at guessing, I will tell you, if you won't say anything
76 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
about it, for Alf might get mad if he were to hear it. He found Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, Cruden's Concordance, Mac- auley's History of England, Jean Valjean, Fantine, Cosset, Les Miserables, The Heart of Midlothian, Ivanhoe, Guy Mannering, Rob Roy, Shakespeare, the History of Ancient Rome, and many others which I have now forgotten. He carried literature for the regiment. He is in the same old business yet, only now he furnishes literature bv the car load.
CHAPTER VIII.— CHATTANOOGA.
BACK TO CHATTANOOGA.
Rosecrans' army was in motion. The Federals were ad- vancing, but as yet they were afar off. Chattanooga must be fortified. Well do we remember the hard licks and picks that we spent on these same forts, to be occupied afterwards by Grant and his whole army, and we on Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge looking at them.
AM VISITED BY MY FATHER.
About this time my father paid me a visit. Rations were mighty scarce. I was mighty glad to see him, but ashamed to lot him know how poorly off for something to eat we were. We were living on parched corn. I thought of a happy plan to get him a good dinner, so I asked him to let us go up to the colonel's tent. Says I, "Colonel Field, I desire to introduce you to my father, and as rations are a little short in my mess, I thought you might have a little better, and could give him a good dinner.'1 "Yes," says Colonel Field, "I am glad to make the acquaintance of your father, and will be glad to divide my rations with him.
CHATTANOOGA. / <
Also, I would like you to stay and take dinner with me," which I assure you, O kind reader, I gladly accepted. About this time a young African, Whit, came in with a frying-pan of parched corn and dumped it on an old oil cloth, and said, "Master, din- ner is ready." That was all he had. He was living like our- selves— on parched corn.
We continued to fortify and build breatworks at Chatta- nooga. It was the same drudge, drudge day by day. Occasion- ally a Sunday would come; but when it did come, there came inspection of arms, knapsacks and cartridge-boxes. Every sol- dier had to have his gun rubbed up as bright as a new silver dollar. W. A. Hughes had the brightest gun in the army, and always called it "Florence Fleming." The private soldier had to have on clean clothes, and if he had lost any cartridges he was charged twenty-five cents each, and had to stand extra duty for every cartridge lost. We always dreaded Sunday. The roll was called more frequently on this than any other day. Some- times we would have preaching. I remember one text that I thought the bottom had been knocked out long before: "And Peter's wife's mother lay sick of fever." That text always did make a deep impression on me. I always thought of a young divine who preached it when first entering the ministry, and in about twenty years came back, and happening to preach from the same text again, an old fellow in the congregation said, "Mr. Preacher, ain't that old woman dead yet ?" Well, that was the text that was preached to us soldiers one Sunday at Chattanooga. I could not help thinking all the time, "Ain't that old woman dead yet ?" But he announced that he would preach again at 3 o'clock. We went to hear him preach at 3 o'clock, as his sermon was so interesting about "Peter's wife's mother lay sick of a fever." We thought, may be it was a sort of sickly subject, and he would liven us up a little in the afternoon service.
Well, he took his text, drawled out through his nose like "small sweetness long drawn out:" "M-a-r-t-h-a, thou art w-e-a-r-i-e-d and troubled about many things, but M-a-r-y hath chosen that good part that shall never be taken from her." Well, you see, O gentle and fair reader, that I remember the text these
78 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
long gone twenty years. I do not remember what he preached about, but I remember thinking that he was a great ladies' man, at any rate, and whenever I see a man who loves and respects the ladies, I think him a good man.
The next sermon was on the same sort of a text : "And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall on Adam and took out of" — he stopped here and said e meant out of, that e, being translated from the Latin and Greek, meant out of, and took e, or rather out of a rib and formed woman. I never did know why he ex- paciated so largely on e; don't understand it yet, but you see, reader mine, that I remember but the little things that happened in that stormy epoch. I remember the e part of the sermon more distinctly than all of his profound eruditions of theology, dog- mas, creeds and evidences of Christianity, and I only write at this time from memory of things that happened twenty years ago.
"out a larking/'
At this place, we took Walter Hood out "a larking." The way to go "a larking" is this: Get an empty meal bag and about a dozen men and go to some dark forest or open field on some cold, dark, frosty or rainy night, about five miles from camp. Get some one who does not understand the game to hold the bag in as stooping and cramped a position as is possible, to keep perfectly still and quiet, and when he has got in the right fix, the others to go off to drive in the larks. As soon as they get out of sight, they break in a run and go back to camp, and go to sleep, leaving the poor fellow all the time holding the bag.
Well, Walter was as good and as clever a fellow as you ever saw, was popular with everybody, and as brave and noble a fellow as ever tore a cartridge, or drew a ramrod, or pulled a trigger, but was the kind of a boy that was easily "roped in" to fun or fight or anything that would come up. We all loved him. Poor fellow, he is up yonder — died on the field of glory and honor. He gave his life, 'twas all he had, for his country. Peace to his memory. That night we went "a larking," and Walter held the bag. I did not see him till netx morning. While I was gulping <lown my coffee, as well as laughter, Walter came around, looking sort of sheepish and shy like, and I was trying to look as solemn
CHATTANOOGA. 79
as a judge. Finalfy he came up to the fire and kept on eyeing me out of one corner of his eye, and I was afraid to look at him for fear of breaking out in a laugh. When I could hold in no longer, I laughed out, and said, "Well, Walter, what luck last night ?" He was very much disgusted, and said, "Humph ! you all think that you are smart. I can't see anything to laugh at in such foolishness as that." He said, "Here ; I have brought your bag back." That conquered me. After that kind of magnani- mous act in forgiving me and bringing my bag back so pleasantly and kindly, I was his friend, and would have fought for him. I felt sorry that we had taken him out "a larking."
HANGING TWO SPIES.
I can now recall to memory but one circumstance that made a deep impression on my mind at the time. I heard that two spies were going to be hung on a certain day, and I went to the hanging. The scaffold was erected, two coffins were placed on the platform, the ropes were dangling from the cross beam above. I had seen men shot, and whipped, and shaved, and branded at Corinth and Tupelo, and one poor fellow named Wright shot at Shelbyville. They had all been horrid scenes to me, but they were Rebels, and like begets like. I did not know when it would be my time to be placed in the same position, you see, and "a fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind." I did not know what was in store in the future for me. Ah, there was the rub, don't you see. This shooting business wasn't a pleasant thing to think about. But Yankees — that was different. I wanted to see a Yankee spy hung. I wouldn't mind that. I would like to see him agonize. A spy ; O, yes, they had hung one of our regiment at Pulaski — Sam Davis. Yes, I would see the hanging. After a while I saw a guard approach, and saw two little boys in their midst, but did not see the Yankees that I had been looking for. The two little boys were rushed upon the platform. I saw that they were handcuffed. "Are they spies?" I was appalled; I was horrified ; nay, more, I was sick at heart. One was about fourteen and the other about sixteen years old, I should judge. The ropes were promptly adjusted around their necks by the provost marshal. The youngest one began to beg and cry and
80 CO. H., FIBST TENNESSEE BEGIMENT.
plead most piteously. It was horrid. The older one kicked him, and told him to stand up and show the Rebels how a Union man could die for his country. Be a man ! The charges and specifications were then read. The props were knocked out and the two boys were dangling in the air. I turned off sick at heart.
EATING KATS.
While stationed at this place, Chattanooga, rations were very scarce and hard to get, and it was, perhaps, economy on the part of our generals and commissaries to issue rather scant rations.
About this time we learned that Pembertons army, sta- tioned at Vicksburg, were subsisting entirely on rats. Instead of the idea being horrid, we were glad to know that "necessity is the mother of invention," and that the idea had originated in the mind of genius. We at once acted upon the information, and started out rat hunting ; but we couldn't find any rats. Presently we came to an old outhouse that seemed to be a natural harbor for this kind of vermin. The house was quickly torn down and out jumped an old residenter, who was old and gray. I suppose that he had been chased before. But we had jumped him and were determined to catch him, or "burst a boiler.'' After chas- ing him backwards and forwards, the rat finally got tired of this foolishness and started for his hole. But a rat's tail is the last that goes in the hole, and as he went in we made a grab for his tail. Well, tail hold broke, and we held the skin of his tail in our hands. But we were determined to have that rat. After hard work we caught him. We skinned him, washed and salted him, buttered and peppered him, and fried him. He actually looked nice. The delicate aroma of the frying rat came to our hungry nostrils. We were keen to eat a ]}iece of rat ; our teeth were on edge ; yea, even our mouth watered to eat a piece of rat. Well, after a while, he was said to be done. I got a piece of cold corn dodger, laid my piece of the rat on it, eat a little piece of bread, and raised the piece of rat to my mouth, when I happened to think of how that rat's tail did slip. I had lost my appetite for dead rat. I did not eat any rat. It was my first and last offort to eat dead rats.
CHATTANOOGA. 81
SWIMMING THE TENNESSEE WITH ROASTINGEABS.
The Tennessee river is about a quarter of a mile wide at Chattanooga. Right across the river was an immense corn-field. The green corn was waving with every little breeze that passed ; the tassels were bowing and nodding their heads ; the pollen was flying across the river like little snow-drops, and everything seemed to say, "Come hither, Johnny Reb; come hither, johnny ; come hither." The river was wide, but we were hungry. The roastingears looked tempting. We pulled off our clothes and launched into the turbid stream, and were soon on the other bank. Here was the field, and here were the roastingears; but where was the raft or canoe ?
We thought of old Abraham and Isaac and the sacrifice1 : "My son, gather the roastingears, there will be a way provided.''
We gathered the roastingears ; we went back and gathered more roastingears, time and again. The bank was lined with green roastingears. Well,- what was to be done ? We began to shuck the corn. We would pull up a few shucks on one ear, and tie it to the shucks of another — first one and then another — until we had at least a hundred tied together. We put the train of corn into the river, and as it began to float off we jumped in, and taking the foremost ear in our mouth, struck out for the other bank. Well, we made the landing all correct.
I merely mention the above incident to show to what ex- tremity soldiers would resort. Thousands of such occurrences were performed by the private soldiers of the Rebel army.
AM DETAILED TO GO FOKAGING.
One day I was detailed to go with a wagon train way down in Georgia on a foraging expedition. It was the first time since I had enlisted as a private that I had struck a good thing. No roll call, no drilling, no fatigue duties, building fortifications, standing picket, dress parade, reviews, or retreats, had to be answered to — the same old monotonous roll call that had been answered five thousand times in these three years. I felt like a free man. The shackles of discipline had for a time been un- fettered. This was bliss, this was freedom, this was liberty.
82 (JO. ii., LTBST TENNESSEE KEGIilENT.
The sky looked brighter, the birds sang more beautiful and sweeter than I remember to have ever heard them. Even the little streamlets aiid branches danced and jumped along the peb- bly beds, while the minnows sported and frollicked under the shining ripples. The very flocks and herds in the pasture looked happy and gay. Even the screech of the wagons, that needed greasing, seemed to send forth a happy sound. It was fine, I tell you.
The blackberries were ripe, and the roadsides were lined with this delicious fruit. The Lord said that he would curse the ground for the disobedience of man, and henceforth it should bring forth thorns and briars ; but the very briars that had been cursed were loaded with the abundance of God's goodness. T felt, then, like David in one of his psalms — "The Lord is good, the Lord is good, for his mercy endureth forever."
PLEASE PASS THE BUTTER.
For several days the wagon train continued on until we had arrived at the part of country to which we had been directed. Whether they bought or pressed the corn, I know not, but the old gentleman invited us all to take supper with him. If I have ever eaten a better supper than that I have forgotten it. They had biscuit for supper. What ! flour bread ? Did my eyes de- ceive me ? Well, there were biscuit — sure enough flour bread — and sugar and coffee — genuine Rio — none of your rye or potato coffee, and butter — regular butter — and ham and eggs, and tur- nip greens, and potatoes, and fried chicken, and nice clean plates — none of your tin affairs — and a snow-white table-cloth and napkins, and white-handled knives and silver forks. At the head of the table was the madam, having on a pair of golden spectacles, and at the foot the old gentleman. He said grace. And, to cap the climax, two handsome daughters. I know that I had never seen two more beautiful ladies. They had on little white aprons, trimmed with jaconet edging, and collars as clean nnd white as snow. They looked good enough to eat, and I think at that time I would have given ten years of my life to have kissed one of them. We were invited to help ourselves. Our plates were soon filled with the tempting food and our tumblers
CHATTANOOGA. 83
with California beer. We would have liked it better had it been twice as strong, but what it lacked in strength we made up in quantity. The old lady said, "Daughter, hand the gentleman the butter." It was the first thing that I had refused, and the reason that I did so was because my plate was full already. Now, there is nothing that will offend a lady so quick as to refuse to take butter when handed to you. If you should say, "No, madam, I never eat butter," it is a direct insult to the lady of the house. Better, far better, for you to have remained at home that day. If you don't eat butter, it is an insult ; if you eat too much, she will make your ears burn after you have left. It is a regu- lator of society; it is a civilizer; it is a luxury and a delicacy that must be touched and handled with care and courtesy on all occasions. Should you desire to get on the good side of a lady, just give a broad, sweeping, slathering compliment to her butter. It beats kissing the dirty-faced baby; it beats anything. Too much praise cannot be bestowed upon the butter, be it good, bad, or indifferent to your notions of things, but to her, her butter is always good, superior, excellent. I did not know this charac- teristic of the human female at the time, or I would have taken a delicate slice of the butter. Here is a sample of the colloquy that followed :
"Mister, have some butter ?"
"Not any at present, thank you, madam."
"Well, I insist upon it; our butter is nice."
"O, I know it's nice, but my plate is full, thank you."
"Well, take some anyhow."
One of the girls spoke up and said :
"Mother, the gentleman don't wish butter."
"Well, I want him to know that our butter is clean, any- how."
"Well, madam, if you insist upon it, there is nothing that I love so well as warm biscuit and butter. I'll thank you for the butter."
I dive in. I go in a little too heavy. The old lady hints in a delicate way that they sold butter. I dive in heavier. That cake of butter was melting like snow in a red hot furnace. The
84 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
old huh- says, "We sell butter to the soldiers at a mighty good price."
I dive in afresh. She says, "I get a dollar a pound for that butter/' and I remark with a good deal of nonchalance, "Well, madam, it is worth it," and dive in again. T did not marry one of the girls.
WE EVACUATE CHATTANOOGA.
One morning while sitting around our camp fires we heard a boom, and a bomb shell passed over our heads. The Yankee army was right on the other bank of the Tennessee river. Bragg did not know of their approach until the cannon fired.
Rosecrans' army is crossing the Tennessee river. A part are already on Lookout Mountain. Some of their cavalry scouts had captured some of our foraging parties in Wills valley. The air was full of flying rumors. Wagons are being packed, camps are broken up, and there is a general hubbub everywhere. But your old soldier is always ready at a moment's notice. The assembly is sounded ; form companies, and we are ready for a march, or a fight, or a detail, or anything. If we are marched a thousand miles or twenty yards, it is all the same. The private soldier is a machine that has no right to know anything. He is amachine that moves without any volition of his own. If Edi- son could invent a wooden man that could walk and load and shoot, then you would have a good sample of the private soldier, and it would have this advantage — the private soldier eats and the wooden man would not.
We left Chattanooga, but whither bound we knew not, arid cared not; but we marched toward Chickamauga and crossed at Lee & Gordon's mill.
THE BULL ()K THE WOODS.
On our way to Lafayette from Lee & Gordon's mill, I remember a ludicrous scene, almost, bordering on sacrilege. Rosecrans' army was very near us, and we expected before three1 days elapsed to be engaged in battle. In fact, we knew there mus't be a fight or a foot race, one or the other. We could smell, as it were, "the battle afar off."
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One Sabbath morning it was announced that an eloquent and able LL. D., from Nashville, was going to preach, and a? the occasion was an exceedingly solemn one, we were anxious to hear this divine preach from God's Holy Word ; and as he was one of the "big ones," the whole army was formed in close col- umn and stacked their arms. The cannon were parked, all pointing back toward Chattanooga. The scene looked weird and picturesque. It was in a dark wilderness of woods and vines and overhanging limbs. In fact, it seemed but the home of the owl and the bat, and other varmints that turn night into day. Everything looked solemn. The trees looked solemn, the scene looked solemn, the men looked solemn, even the horses looked solemn. You may be sure, reader, 'that we felt solemn.
The reverend LL. D. had prepared a regular war sermon before he left home, and of course had to preach it, appropriate or not appropriate; it was in him and had to come out. He opened the service with a song. I did remember the piece that was sung, but right now I cannot recall it to memory ; but as near as I can now recollect here is his prayer, verbatim et liter- atim:
"Oh, Thou immaculate, invisible, eternal and holy Being, the exudations of whose effulgence illuminates this terrestrial sphere, we approach Thy presence, being covered all over with wounds and bruises and putrifving sores, from the crowns of our heads to the soles of our feet. And Thou, O Lord, art our der- nier resort. The whole world is one great machine, managed by Thy puissance. The beatific splendors of Thy face irradiate the celestial region and felicitate the saints. There are the most exuberant profusions of Thy grace, and the sempiternal efflux of Thy glory. God is an abyss of light, a circle whose center is everywhere and His circumference nowhere. Hell is the dark world made up of spiritual sulphur and other ignited ingredi- ents, disunited and unharmonized, and without that pure bal- samic oil that flows from the heart of God."
When the old fellow got this far, I lost the further run of his prayer, but regret very much that I did so, because it was so grand and fine that I would have liked very much to have kept
86 CO. 1L., FIRST TENNESSEE KEGIMENT.
such an appropriate prayer for posterity. In fact, it lays it on heavy over any prayer I ever heard, and I think the new trans- lators ought to get it and have it put in their book as a sample prayer. But they will have to get the balance of it from the eminent LL. D. In fact, he was so "high larnt" that I don't think any one understood him but the generals. The colonels might every now and then have understood a word, and maybe a few of the captains and lieutenants, because Lieutenant Lans- down told me he understood every word the preacher said, and further informed me that it was none of your one-horse, old- fashioned country prayers that privates knew anything about, but was bang-up, first-rate, orthodox.
Well, after singing and praying, he took his text. I quote entirely from memory. "Blessed be the Lord God, who teaches my hands to war and my fingers to fight." Now, reader, that was the very subject we boys did not want to hear preached on — on that occasion at least. We felt like some other subject would have suited us better. I forget how he commenced his sermon, but I remember that after he got warmed up a little, he began to pitch in on the Yankee nation, and gave them particular fits as to their geneology. He said that we of the South had descended from the royal and aristocratic blood of the Huguenots of France, and of the cavaliers of England, etc. ; but that the Yan- kees were the descendants of the crop-eared Puritans and witch burners, who came over in the Mayflower, and settled at Ply- mouth Rock. He was warm on this subject, and waked up the echoes of the forest. He said that he and his brethren would fight the Yankees in this world, and if God permit, chase their frightened ghosts in the next, through fire and brimstone.
About this time we heard the awfullest racket, produced by some wild animal tearing through the woods toward us, and the cry, "Look out! look out! hooie ! hooie! hooie! look out!" and there came running right through our midst a wild bull, mad with terror and fright, running right over and knocking down the divine, and scattering Bibles and hymn books in every direc- tion. The services were brought to a close without, the doxology.
This same brave chaplain rode along with our brigade, on
CHATTANOOGA. Hi
an old string-haltered horse, as we advanced to the attack at Chickamauga, exhorting the boys to be brave, to aim low, and to kill the Yankees as if they were wild beasts. He was eloquent and patriotic. He stated that if he only had a gam he too would go along as a private soldier. You could hear his voice echo and re-echo over the hills. He had worked up his patriotism to a pitch of genuine bravery and daring that I had never seen exhibited, when fliff, fluff, fluff, fluff, fluff, FLUFF — a whir. a boom ! and a shell screams through the air. The reverend LL. D. stops to listen, like an old sow when she hears the wind, and says, ''Remember, boys, that he who is killed will sup to- night in Paradise." Some soldier hallooed at the top of his voice, ''Well, parson, you come along and take supper with us." Boom ! whir ! a bomb burst, and the parson at that moment put spurs to his horse and was seen to limber to the rear, and almost every soldier yelled out, "The parson isn't hungry, and never eats supper." I remember this incident, and so does every member of the First Tennessee Regiment.
PRESENTMENT. OR THE WING OF THE ANGEL OF DEATH.
Presentment is always a mystery. The soldier may at one moment be in good spirits, laughing and talking. The wing of the death angel touches him. He knows that his time has come. It is but a question of time with him then. He knows that his days are numbered. I cannot explain it. God has numbered the hairs of our heads, and not a sparroAv falls without His knowledge. How much more valuable are we than many spar- rows.
We had stopped at Lee & Gordon's mill, and gone into camp for the night. Three days' rations were being issued. When Bob Stout was given his rations he refused to take them. His face wore a serious, woe-begone expression. He was asked if he was sick, and said "No," but added, "Boys, my days are numbered, my time has come. In three days from to-day, I will be lying right yonder on that hillside a corpse. Ah, you may laugh ; my time has come. I've got a twenty dollar gold piece in my pocket that I've carried through the war, and a silver watch that my father sent me through the lines. Please take
88 CO. II., FIB£T TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
them off when I am dead, and give them to Captain Irvine, to give to my father when he gets back home. Here are my cloth- ing and blanket that any one who wishes them may have. My rations I do not wish at all. My gun and cartridge-box I expect to die with."
The next morning the assembly sounded about two o'clock. We commenced our march in the darkness, and marched twenty- five miles to a little town by the name of Lafayette, to the relief of General Pillow, whose command had been attacked at that place. After accomplishing this, we marched back by another road to Chickamauga. We camped on the banks of Chicka- mauga on Friday night, and Saturday morning we commenced to cross over. About twelve o'clock we had crossed. No sooner had we crossed than an order ea,me to double quick. General Forrest's cavalry had opened the battle. Even then the spent halls were falling amongst us with that peculiar thud so familiar r»> your old soldier.
Double quick ! There seemed to be no rest for us. Forrest is needing reinforcements. Double quick, close up in the rear ! siz, siz, double quick, boom, hurry up, bang, bang, a rattle de bang, bang, siz, boom, boom, boom, hurry up, double quick, boom, bang, halt, front, right dress, boom, boom, and three sol- diers are killed and twenty wounded. Billy Webster's arm was torn cut by the roots and he killed, and a fragment of shell buried itself in Jim McEwin's side, also killing Mr. Fain King, a conscript from Mount Pleasant. Forward, guide center, march, charge bayonets, fire at will, commence firing. (This is where the LL. D. ran.) We debouched through the woods, fir- ing as we marched, the Yankee line about two hundred yards off. Bang, bang, siz, siz. It was a sort of running fire. We kept up a constant fire as we advanced. In ten minutes we were face to face with the foe. It was but a question as to who could load and shoot the fastest. The army was not up. Bragg was not ready for a general battle. The big battle was fought the next day, Sunday. We held our position for two hours and ten minutes in the midst of a deadly and galling fire, being enfiladed and almost surrounded, when General Forrest galloped up and
CHATTANOOGA. 89
said, "Colonel Field, look out, you are almost surrounded ; you had better fall back." The order was given to retreat. I ran through a solid line of blue coats. As I fell back, they were upon the right of us, they were upon the left of us, they were in front of us, they were in the rear of us. It was a perfect hor- nets' nest. The balls whistled around our ears like the escape valves of ten thousand engines. The woods seemed to be blaz- ing; everywhere, at every jump, would rise a lurking foe. But to get up and dust was all we could do. I was running along by the side of Bob Stout. General Preston Smith stopped me and asked if our brigade was falling back. I told him it was. Tie asked me the second time if it was Maney's brigade that was falling back. I told him it was. I heard him call out, "Atten- tion, forward !" One solid sheet of leaden hail was falling around me. I heard General Preston Smith's brigade open. It seemed to be platoons of artillery. The earth jarred and trem- bled like an earthquake. Deadly missiles were flying in every direction. It was the very incarnation of death itself. I could almost hear the shriek of the death angel passing over the scene. General Smith was killed in ten minutes after I saw him. Bob Stout and myself stopped. Said I, "Bob, you wern't killed, as you expected." He did not reply, for at that very moment a solid shot from the Federal guns struck him between the waist and the hip, tearing off one leg and scattering his bowels all over the ground. I heard him shriek out, "O, O, God!" His spirit had flown before his body struck the ground. Farewell, friend ; we will meet over yonder. I
When the cannon ball struck Billy Webster, tearing his arm out of the socket, he did not die immediately, but as we were advancing to the attack, we left him and the others lying where they fell upon the battlefield ; but when we fell back to the place where we had left our knapsacks, Billy's arm had been dressed by Dr. Buist, and he seemed to be quite easy. He asked Jim Fogey to please write a letter to his parents at home. He wished to dictate the letter. He asked me to please look in his knapsack and get him a clean shirt, and said that he thought he would feel better if he could get rid of the blood that was upon
90 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
him. I went to hunt for his knapsack and found it, but when I got back to where he was, poor, good Billy Webster was dead. He had given his life to his country. His spirit is with the good and brave. ISTo better or braver man than Billy Webster ever drew the breath of life. His bones lie yonder to-day, upon the battlefield of Chickamauga. I loved him; he was my friend. Many and many a dark night have Billy and I stood together upon the silent picket post. Ah, reader, my heart grows sick and I feel sad while I try to write my recollections of that unholy and uncalled for war. But He that ruleth the heavens doeth all things well.
CHAPTER IX.— CHICKAMAUGA.
BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA.
Sunday morning of that September day, the sun rose over the eastern hills clear and beautiful. The day itself seemed to have a Sabbath-day look about it. The battlefield was in a rough and broken country, with trees and undergrowth, that ever since the creation had never been disturbed by the ax of civilized man. It looked wild, weird, uncivilized.
Our corps (Polk's), being in the engagement the day before, were held in reserve. Reader, were you ever held in reserve of an attacking army? To see couriers dashing backward and forward ; to hear the orders given to the brigades, regiments and companies; to see them forward in line of battle, the battle-flags waving ; to hear their charge, and then to hear the shock of bat- tle, the shot and shell all the while sizzing, and zipping, and thudding, and screaming, and roaring, and bursting, and passing right over your heads ; to see the litter corps bringing back the
CHICKAMAUGA. 91
wounded continually, and hear them tell how their command was being cut to pieces, and that every man in a certain regiment was killed, and to see a cowardly colonel (as we saw on this occasion — he belonged to Longstreet's corps) come dashing back, looking the very picture of terror and fear, exclaiming, "O, men. men, for God's sake go forward and help my men! they are being cut all to pieces ! we can't hold our position. O, for God's sake, please go and help my command !" To hear some of our boys ask, "What regiment is that? What regiment is that?'' He replies, such and such regiment. And then to hear some fellow ask, "Why ain't you with them, then, you cowardly puppy ? Take off that coat and those chicken guts ; coo, sheep ; baa, baa, black sheep ; flicker, flicker ; ain't you ashamed of your- self ? flicker, flicker ; I've got a notion to take my gun and kill him," etc. Every word of this is true; it actually happened. But all that could demoralize, and I may say intimidate a sol- dier, was being enacted, and he not allowed to participate. How we were moved from one position to another, but always under fire; our nerves strung to their utmost tension, listening to the roar of battle in our immediate front, to hear it rage and then get dimmer until it seems to die out entirely ; then all at once it breaks out again, and you think now in a very few minutes you will be ordered into action, and then all at once we go double- quicking to another portion of the field, the battle raging back from the position we had left. General Leonidas Polk rides up and happening to stop in our front, some of the boys halloo out, "Say, General, what command is that which is engaged now?" The general kindly answers, "That is Longstreet's corps. He is driving them this way, and we will drive them that way, and crush them between the 'upper and nether millstone.' ' Turn- ing to General Cheatham, he said, "General, move your division and attack at once." Everything is at once set in motion, and General Cheatham, to give the boys a good send-off, says, "For- ward, boys, and give 'em h — 1." General Polk also says a good word, and that word was, "Do as General Cheatham says, boys." (You know he was a preacher and couldn't curse.) After marching in solid line, see-sawing, right obliqueing, left oblique-
92 cO. 11., FIRST TBarSiESSEE REGIMENT.
ing, guide center and close up; commence firing — fire at will; charge and take their breastworks ; our pent-up nervousness and demoralization of all day is suddenly gone. We raise one long, loud, cheering shout and charge right upon their breastworks. They are pouring their deadly missiles into our advancing ranks from under their head-logs. We do not stop to look around to see who is killed and wounded, but press right up their breast- works, and plant our battle-flag upon it. They waver and break and run in every direction, when General John C. Breckin- ridge's division, which had been supporting us, march up and pass us in full pursuit of the routed and flying Federal army.
AFTER THE BATTLE.
We remained upon the battlefield of Chickamauga all night. Everything had fallen into our hands. We had captured a great many prisoners and small arms, and many pieces of artillery and wagons and provisions. The Confederate and Federal dead, wounded, and dying were everywhere scattered over the battle- field. Men were lying where they fell, shot in every conceivable part of the body. Some with their entrails torn out and still hanging to them and piled up on the ground beside them, and they still alive. Some with their under jaw torn off, and hang- ing by a fragment of skin to their cheeks, with their tongues lolling from their mouth, and they trying to talk. Some with both eyes shot out, with one eye hanging down on their cheek. In fact, you might walk over the battlefield and find men shot from the crown of the head to the tip end of the toe. And then to see all those dead, wounded and dying horses, their heads and tails drooping, and they seeming to be so intelligent as if they comprehended everything. T felt like shedding a tear for those innocent dumb brutes.
Reader, a battlefield, after the battle, is a sad and sorrowful sight to look at. The glory of war is but the glory of battle, the shouts, and cheers, and victory.
A soldier's life is not a pleasant one. It is always, at best, one of privations and hardships. The emotions of patriotism and pleasure hardly counterbalance the toil and suffering that he
CHICKAMAUGA. 93
has to undergo in order to enjoy his patriotism and pleasure Dying on the field of battle and glory is about the easiest duty a soldier has to undergo. It is the living, marching, fighting, shooting soldier that has the hardships of war to carry. When a brave soldier is killed he is at rest. The living soldier knows not at what moment he, too, may be called on to lay down his life on the altar of his country. The dead are heroes, the living are but men compelled to do the drudgery and suffer the privations incident to the thing called "glorious war."
A NIGHT AMONG THE DEAD.
We rested on our arms where the battle ceased. All around us everywhere were the dead and wounded, lying scatterd over the ground, and in many places piled in heaps. Many a sad and heart-rending scene did I witness upon this battlefield of Chick- amauga. Our men died the death of heroes. I sometimes think that surely our brave men have not died in vain. It is true, our cause is lost, but a people who loved those brave and noble heroes should ever cherish their memory as men who died for them. I shed a tear over their memory. They gave their all to their country. Abler pens than mine must write their epitaphs, and tell of their glories and heroism. I am but a poor writer, at best, and only try to tell of the events that I saw.
One scene I now remember, that I can imperfectly relate. While a detail of us were passing over the field of death and blood, with a dim lantern, looking for our wounded soldiers to carry to the hospital, we came across a group of ladies, looking among the killed and wounded for their relatives, when I heard one of the ladies say, "There they come with their lanterns." I approached the ladies and asked them for whom they were look- ing. They told me the name, but I have forgotten it. We passed on, and coming to a pile of our slain, we had turned over several of our dead; when one of the ladies screamed out, "O, there he is! Poor fellow! Dead, dead, dead!" She ran to the pile of slain and raised the dead man's head and placed it on her lap and began kissing him and saying, "O, O, they have killed my darling, my darling, my darling ! O, mother, mother, what must I do! My poor, poor darling! O, they have killed
94 CO. H., FIRST TENNESSEE BEGIMENT.
him, they have killed him !" I could witness the scene no longer. I turned and walked away, and William A. Hughes was crying, and remarked, aO, law me; this war is a terrible thing." We left them and began again hunting for our wounded. All through that long September night we continued to carry off our wounded, and when the morning sun arose over the eastern hills, the order came to march to Missionary Ridge.
CHAPTER X.— MISSIONARY RIDGE.
MISSIONARY RIDGE.
After retreating from Chickamauga, the Yankees attempted to re-form their broken lines on Missionary Ridge. We ad- vanced to attack them, but they soon fell back to Chattanooga. We knew they were in an impregnable position. We had built those breastworks and forts, and knew whereof we spoke. We stopped on Missionary Ridge, and gnashed our teeth at Chatta- nooga. I do not know what our generals thought; I do not know what the authorities at Richmond thought, but I can tell you what the privates thought. But here we were on Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain, looking right down into Chatta- nooga. We had but to watch and wait. We would starve them out.
The Federal army had accomplished their purpose. They wanted Chattanooga. They laughed at our triumph, and mocked at our victory. They got Chattanooga. "Now, where are you, Johnny Reb ? What are you going to do about it % You've got the dry grins, arn't you ? We've got the key ; when the proper time conies we'll unlock your doors and go in. You are going to starve us out, eh ? We are not very hungry at
MISSION AKY RIDGE. 95
present, and we don't want any more pie. When we starve out we'll call on you for rations, but at present we are not starving, by a jug full ; but if you want any whisky or tobacco, send over and we'll give you some. We've got all we wanted, and assure you we are satisfied."
The above remarks are the supposed colloquy that took place between the two armies. Bragg, in trying to starve the Yankees out, was starved out himself. Ask any old Rebel as to our bill of fare at Missionary Ridge. In all the history of the war, I cannot remember of more privations and hardships than we went through at Missionary Ridge. And when in the very acme of our privations and hunger, when the army was most dissatisfied and unhappy, we were ordered into line of battle to be reviewed by Honorable Jefferson Davis. When he passed by us, with his great retinue of staff officers and play-outs at full gallop^ cheers greeted them, with the words, "Send us something to eat, Massa Jeff. Give us something to eat, Massa Jeff. I'm hungry ! I'm hungry !"
SERGEANT TUCKER AND GENERAL WILDER.
At this place the Yankee outpost was on one side of the Tennessee river, and ours on the other. I was on the detail one Sunday commanded by Sergeant John T. Tucker. When we were approaching we heard the old guard and the Yankee picket talking back and forth across the river. The new guard imme- diately resumed the conversation. We had to halloo at the top of our voices, the river being about three hundred yards wide at this point But there was a little island about the middle of the river. A Yankee hallooed out, "O, Johnny, Johnny, meet me half way in the river on the island." "All right," said Ser- geant Tucker, who immediately undressed all but his hat, in which he carried the Chattanooga Rebel and some other Southern newspapers, and swam across to the island. When he got there the Yankee was there, but the Yankee had waded. I do not know what he and John talked about, but they got very friendly, and John invited hirn to come clear across to our side, which invitation he accepted. I noticed at the time that while John swam, the Yankee waded, remarking that he couldn't swim.
96 CO. II., FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT.
The river was but little over waist deep. Well, they came across and we swapped a few lies, canteens and tobacco, and then the Yankee went back, wading all the way across the stream. That man was General Wilder, commanding the Federal cavalry, and at the battle of Missionary Ridge he threw his whole division of cavalry across the Tennessee river at that point, thus flanking Bragg' s army, and opening the battle. He was examining the ford, and the swapping business was but a mere by-play, lie played it sharp, and Bragg had to get further.
MOCCASIN POINT.
Maney's brigade fortified on top of Lookout Mountain. From this position we could see five states. The Yankees had built a fort across the river, on Moccasin Point, and were throw- ing shells at us continually. I have never seen such accurate shooting in my life. It was upon the principle of shooting a squirrel out of a tree, and they had become so perfect in their aim, that I believe they could have killed a squirrel a mile off. We could have killed a great many artillery men if we had been allowed to shoot, but no private soldier was ever allowed to shoot a gun on his own hook. If he shot at all, it must be by the order of an officer, for if just one cartridge was shot away or lost, the private was charged twenty-five cents for it, and had to do extra duty, and I don't think our artillery was ever allowed to fire a single shot under any circumstances. Our rations were cooked up by a special detail ten miles in the rear, and were sent to us every three days, and then those three days' rations were gen- erally eaten up at one meal, and the private soldier had to starve the other two days and a half. Never in all my whole life do I remernber of ever experiencing so much oppression and humilia- tion. The soldiers were starved and almost naked, and covered all over with lice and camp itch and filth and dirt. The men looked sick, hollow-eyed, and heart-broken, living principally upon parched corn, which had been picked out of the mud and dirt under the feet of officers' horses. We thought of nothing hut starvation.
The battle of Missionary Ridge was opened from Moccasin Point, while we were on Lookout Mountain, but I knew nothing
MISSIONARY RIDGE. 97
of the movements or maneuvers of either army, and only tell what part I took in the battle.
BATTLE OF MISSIONARY RIDGE.
One morning Theodore Sloan, Hog Johnson and I were standing picket at the little stream that runs along at the foot of Lookout Mountain. In fact, I would be pleased to name our caprain, Fulcher, and Lieutenant Lansdown, of the guard on thi>- occasion, because we acted as picket for the whole three days' engagement without being relieved, and haven't been relieved yet. But that battle has gone into history. We heard a Yan- kee call, "O, Johnny, Johnny Reb !" I started out to meet him as formerly, when he hallooed out, "Go back, Johnny, go back ; we are ordered to fire on you." "What is the matter ? Is your army going to advance on us ?" "I don't know ; we are ordered to fire." I jumped back into the picket post, and a minne ball ruined the only hat I had ; another and another followed in quick succession, and the dirt flew up in our faces off our little breast- works. Before night the picket line was engaged from one