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Title: The Southern Soldier Boy
A Thousand Shots for the Confederacy
Author: James Carson Elliott
Release Date: February 28, 2010 [eBook #31453]
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THE SOUTHERN SOLDIER BOY
A Thousand Shots for the Confederacy
by
JAMES CARSON ELLIOTT,
Company F, 56 Regiment N. C. T., C. S. A., 1861-'65,
Shelby, N. C.
[Illustration: JAMES CARSON ELLIOTT.]
Historical Incidents, Reminiscences and Personal Experiences, Covering
the nine months siege of Petersburg and both Prison Pens,
etc., etc. Plain facts more interesting than Fiction,
all from the standpoint of a Private Soldier
Edwards & Broughton Printing Company,
Raleigh, N. C.
Copyright, 1907,
by
James C. Elliott.
PREFACE.
A readable book should instruct, entertain and amuse. The author, outside
of the historical interest of this little book, has aimed to cover a
broad-enough field for all classes of readers to find some nourishing
food--at least in the way of variety and shifting scenes--from the
standpoint of a young private.
And in order to understand his viewpoint, a brief sketch of the author is
admissible. Born in Cleveland County, N. C., about midway between
Charlotte and Asheville, July 12, 1845. His father, a small slaveholder
and a farmer, he was brought up to work on the farm and was well practiced
in the use of firearms, and was well seasoned in the fox-chase and hunting
sports. His father was an ardent Whig, and they got their political
inspiration from William G. Brownlow's Knoxville, Tenn., Whig. (See
Brownlow's and Pryneis' debate on Negro slavery.) Brownlow proved
conclusively that slavery was of Divine origin; that it had always existed
and always would exist, because the Bible said, "The heathen you buy with
your money shall never go free, but shall be an inheritance to you and
your children forever." But when hostilities began, Brownlow sided with
the Union and was the War Governor of Tennessee. The war spirit ran high
in our section and all the boys were eager to take a hand in the fun of
chasing the invaders out of our country. The first Manassas battle started
them back the way our _smart men_ said they would go. And I thought the
fun would all be over before I would have a chance to share in the glory.
But they kept coming in larger swarms. After I had organized and drilled
with the Home Guards, I saw there was still a prospect to get to the front
in time to take a hand. Two years had dragged along, the battle of
Gettysburg had turned the scale, more than half of my early in friends had
been knocked out when I entered the army for a three-years' term at the
age of 18 years. We had understood at the first that we must fight three
to one, but to whip that many Yankees was not thought to be much of a job;
but when I waded in, it was quite evident that we must fight five to one.
But we still thought they must be whipped, all the same. The numbers come
up to our expectations, but we were sadly deceived in their fighting
qualities. When they first came our climate did not agree with them, but
the longer they stayed the harder they were to persuade away; and they
finally worried us out, until we had to let them alone; and after staying
with us awhile we learned they are as good as we are. From a distance,
they are inclined to view us with a critic's eye, as through a glass
darkly; but when they come down and bring their washing, they get a
clearer view. Then, and not until then, the veil is removed away, and all
our problems stand revealed in open day. Progress comes through evolution
and revolution; where moral forces lag physical force compels the way. The
only issue now is in patriotic rivalry of the sections. The heritage of
one is the property of all.
"Oh! carry me back to old Virginia," "The old Kentucky home," "Carolina,"
"Oh, for Carolina," "Away down in Georgia," "On the Sewanee River," etc.,
are refrains not equaled in the more frigid region. Then we have "Dixie,"
covering the whole Southland. All these are now held in common by our
whole people. Whoever heard of any one ever wanting to be carried back to
New England, where the natural resources are mainly ice, granite, rock,
codfish and beans. Still we are all proud of the hardy New Englander who
makes the desert blossom as the rose wherever he pitches his tent. His
hard environment has been a blessing to every other part of the country,
forcing him to seek greener pastures in balmier climes, and to disseminate
his energy and frugality in those more leisureful sections that need
encouragement to greater thrift. It was the combined qualities of the
Virginia cavalier and the New England Puritan that made Stonewall Jackson
invincible and Robert E. Lee the highest type of the American patriot.
THE SOUTHERN SOLDIER BOY.
JAMESTOWN AND ITS SIGNIFICANCE.
The English settlement at Jamestown, Virginia, was the beginning of the
highest civilization in the liberty of man and the establishment of the
purest and best political government the world has ever known--perfected
through many vicissitudes, stands as the beacon light of human liberty for
all the world.
THE JAMESTOWN EXPOSITION.
The 26th of April, 1607, is the date that will linger in history after
many a dreary record of battle and coronation has been swept away. For on
that date the first permanent colony of English speech made its landing on
the soil of North America. It is fitting that the three hundredth
anniversary of this event should be marked by the opening of the Jamestown
Exposition.
The founding of Jamestown was not a step in a struggle, but a trophy of
victory. And, though it began the westward march of the Saxon tongue,
which has long since encircled the globe, it marked the victory less of a
race than of a civilization. It was really the dedication of a continent
to individual liberty; it was the definite announcement that the worn-out
systems of empire should not usurp the new western land. It was a trophy
gained in a hundred years of such warfare as the world has rarely seen,
but it was a thousand times worth the price.
When the peoples of Europe landed on the shores of the sixteenth century,
they were a curiously assorted company. Germany was still playing the
solemn farce of the Roman Empire, whose real existence had terminated a
thousand years before. Spain had just driven the last armed infidel from
her borders, and was preparing to use in foreign conquest the military
excellence she had developed in her long crusade at home. Italy, divided
into a dozen small states, had carried civilization as high as a purely
city civilization can go, and was ready to decline. France was halting
between two opinions, but, on the whole, leaned strongly toward the course
of European aggression, which she pursued for centuries. All these
countries were organized on the military plan. The individual counted for
little among them; commerce counted for less; all who were not soldiers
could escape contempt only by becoming priests. In England and Holland a
different organization prevailed. There the civilization was industrial,
rather than military. Commerce was accounted a worthy work; not so high as
fighting, of course, but still perfectly respectable; and the individual
enjoyed a freedom and security unknown elsewhere.
Which type of civilization would endure? That was the great question
before the world. Would the soldier and aristocrat, or the merchant and
artisan, survive in the struggle which had already begun? The sixteenth
century passed, and the contest was decided. The sturdy mechanic had
outworn his armored and tinseled lord. Italy was ruined; Germany broken in
two; Spain hopelessly wrecked; France, bled white by civil war, was
gasping for breath. But England and Holland stood erect and at ease; and,
pausing only to make sure that the victory was theirs indeed, went forth
to possess the world. Jamestown and New Amsterdam were the first efforts
of the free northern peoples to possess the land they had won.
And not only was Jamestown the first English colony on the continent, but
it was the first white settlement that deserved the name of colony at all.
The adventures of the Spaniards were not colonizing, but conquest. They
were crusaders, going forth to found kingdoms, not settlers seeking out
homes. They went to the most densely inhabited parts of the new world,
simply because only a dense population of slaves could uphold the costly
military type of Spanish civilization. The English came as homemakers.
They sought out the unsettled parts of the land, and these they covered
with a working civilization. Bad as slavery afterward became in this
country, it never had a twentieth part of the influence on our life that
the same institution had in Spanish lands. The result is history. The
industrial civilization which had beaten militarism on its own ground in
the old world, outstripped it with ridiculous ease in the new. Spain had a
century's start, yet to-day two-thirds of the white people on the Western
continent speak the English language and live within the borders of the
United States.
A TRIBUTE TO VIRGINIA.
Here is to Virginia, "The Old Dominion" State. At last with the young
Confederacy linked her fate. Go search the annals of history back to the
days of Abraham; trace Jewish civilization; compare Greek and Roman
progress; weigh the Crusaders of the Middle Ages and the Reformers of the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Then look to the English people who
first wrested the great Magna Charta--the Bill of Civil Rights--and human
freedom from King John, and implanted these principles first in Virginia
with the best blood of England, producing a Washington, a Jefferson, a
Patrick Henry, a Madison, a Monroe, a Marshall, a Tyler, a Wise, a Robert
E. Lee, a Stonewall Jackson--with thousands as high-toned and patriotic.
There she stands superb! With her honor, her chivalry, her patriotism and
valor. Her high standard of civilization, unequaled and unexcelled by any
people in any age, in any land. In the most trying crisis of any age she
bore herself grandly, nobly. As Mother of Presidents and Mother of States.
It was her lot to suffer most of all. For four years invaded by hostile
armies and burdened by her own defenders, in the great struggles that
swayed back and forth. Her homes despoiled, her fields trampled, her sons
slain, and her soil drenched in blood. She was steadfast, generous and
hospitable to the last. She fed the hungry, clothed the naked, and cared
for the sick and bound up the wounded. And not a word of complaint ever
came from a Confederate soldier that she ever failed to do what she could
for him.
Virginia was all this, notwithstanding she was handicapped by negro
slavery, insidiously introduced by Dutch traders. And when it was known
that Africans had sense enough to set plants and worm tobacco, New England
sagacity and enterprise were quick to supply the demand for slaves and to
stock the market until Virginia cried, Hold! Enough! Negro slavery held
her on the low plane of an agricultural State--a producer of cheap raw
products. Yet history shows no example of such progress as was made in the
civilization of the Negro race. George Washington freed his negroes and
turned them loose upon the community. Thomas Jefferson foresaw that a
government could not remain half slave and half free. But the steady
increase in slave property and its broad extension prohibited its ready
abolition. Virginians were not the people to be dictated to by the very
people that had pressed slavery upon her. She stood for the right to
manage her domestic affairs as she pleased, and was quick to resent
outside interference. The clash was inevitable and had to be fought to a
finish. North Carolina, her faithful daughter, loves to honor and cherish
her Alma Mater. As Virginia, so were all the Southern States--brothers all
standing shoulder to shoulder in a common cause.
HISTORY OF CO. F.
A LIST OF THE OFFICERS AND MEN OF COMPANY F, FIFTY-SIXTH REGIMENT N. C. T.,
C. S. ARMY, WITH A SKETCH OF ITS SERVICE FROM SPRING OF 1862 TO 1865.
This was one of the last companies raised in Cleveland County, and was
composed three-fourths of married men. I joined the company as a recruit,
17th of August, 1863, at Halifax, N. C., and was with it constantly in
all its service except from the 28th of July, 1864, to the 15th of
October, 1864, when I was away at hospital and on sick furlough. It was
organized into the Fifty-sixth Regiment at Camp Mangum, near Raleigh, when
its Captain, H. F. Schenck, was elected Major, and B. F. Grigg was elected
Captain. Captain Grigg was First Sergeant, and having served six months
with First N. C. Regiment, and having participated in the first battle of
the war at Big Bethel, Va., and being a good drill master, naturally
succeeded Major Schenck as Captain. Lieutenants, Dr. V. J. Palmer, Dick
Williams, Alfred Grigg (after Williams was killed); an Irishman by the
name of Purse served as Third Lieutenant for a while. Sergeants, A. J.
London, Frank M. Stockton, William London, Pink Shuford, Rufus Gardner,
Hezekiah Dedmon. Corporals, T. Jefferson Hord, Thomas J. Dixon, Benjamin
A. Jenkins, Lawson A. Bridges, Graham Wilson.
PRIVATES.
Those still living at this date (June, 1906,) marked by an *.
*Allen, Rufus; Allen, William; *Beam, Joseph; Blanton, Arthur; *Blanton,
Frank; Barnett, W. Riley; Beaver, David; Bookout, Silas; Bookout,
Marmaduke; Bedford, James; *Blanton, William; Chitwood, J. Marshall;
Cabiness, Thos. P.; *Crowder, Spencer A.; *Crowder, Mike; Crowder, Joseph;
*Crowder, John; Carter, John; *Carter, W. Jackson; Cogdall, Allen;
*Cogdall, Adney; *Cogdall, Perry; Chitwood, William; Davis, Thomas; Davis,
J. Pinkney; Daugherty, Samuel; *Elliott, James C.; Eskridge, Simeon;
Eaker, Jesse; Finch, James; *Fortenbury, Mark; *Fortenbury, Anglis;
*Gantt, Iley; Gibson, Oliver P.; Gaines, Barlet; Green, William; Glodden,
Hosea; *Grigg, John; Grigg, T. Goode; *Grigg, Levi; Hoard, Sabert;
*Hasten, Samuel; *Hasten, William; *Hasten, Frank; Haynes, Mijamon; Hamy,
Judson; Justice, Lewis; Jones, Starlin; Kirby, Monroe; Kennedy,
Alexander; Ledford, McKee; Ledford, John; Louis, Peter; *Lutz, Luther;
Lutz, Frank; Lucas, Christopher; London, Thomas; London, Anonymous;
London, Sidney; London, John; Moore, Spencer; Moore, Asbury; *McMurry,
Bartlett; Michael, Luther; Maynard, a South Carolinian; *Nowlin, Anderson;
Nowlin, John H.; Nowlin, Thos. L.; Newton, Big Son; Newton; Newton, Little
Son; Norman, James; Powell, James S.; Powell, James; *Powell, Isaac;
Powell, Christopher; Price, Peter; *Peeler, David; *Peeler, James;
Phillips, Noah; Pryor, Pinkney; Philbek, David; *Randall, Isaac; Richards,
Wesley; Revels, Wesley; Sanders, Griffin; Sparks, Albert; Smith, Elijah;
Smith, J. Marcus; *Spurlin, Jefferson; Spangler, Johnson; *Suttle, D. B.
F.; Thompson, George; *Teseneer, John A.; *Wolfe, W. Cathy; Webb, John;
Webb, Frank; Wesson, Dobbins; *Weathers, Sidney; Weathers, Albert;
Wellmon, William; White, Moses; *Wright, Sanders; Wright, Winslow; Wright,
Riley.
Making in all 135 men and officers, with probably a few more that died
before I joined the company. John H. Nowlin had served three years in a
Mississippi regiment before he was transferred to Company F, and he had
been wounded twice. O. P. Gibson was transferred to Forty-ninth Regiment,
and was severely wounded. Isaac Randall exchanged with Maynard, and went
to a South Carolina regiment, and was in the regiment blown up at the
Crater. Christopher Powell was transferred from Thirty-eighth Regiment.
William Blanton was company commissary. He was elected Lieutenant in
Captain David Magness' company, Thirty-eighth Regiment, and transferred.
George Thompson was then company commissary. Dobbins Wesson was regiment
mail boy, then Rufus W. Gardner took his place. William Green shot and
killed himself while hunting deserters. David Philbeck was the first man
to die; he died of measles. Ben. A. Jenkins was the last man to die; he
died in Point Lookout prison.
The Fifty-sixth Regiment N. C. Troops served under Generals Bob Ransom,
Martin Pryor, and then under Brig-Gen. Matt. W. Ransom, with
Twenty-fourth, Twenty-fifth, Thirty-fifth and Forty-ninth Regiments N. C.
Troops. For more than a year the Fifty-sixth operated on the line from
Petersburg, Va., to Wilmington, N. C., in protecting that railroad and
coast country. In the spring of 1863, the Fifty-sixth was deployed on
picket duty in Gum Swamp, below Kinston; the Federals cut it off and
attempted its capture. After some resistance by several companies, they
all took to the swamp and escaped, losing a few captured, and field
officers losing their horses. Company F was detached, and got away in good
order. This little escapade was the source of much merriment with the
other regiments, who "poked" much fun at the Fifty-sixth for running at
Gum Swamp.
The Fifty-sixth represented all sections of North Carolina, as follows:
Co. A, Captain Hughes, Pasquotank County; Co. B, Captain Roberts, Robeson
County; Co. C, Captain White, Currituck County; Co. D, Captain Graham,
Orange County; Co. E, Captain Lockhart, Northampton County; Co. F, Captain
Grigg, Cleveland County; Co. G, Captain Lanemills, Henderson County; Co.
H, Captain Graves, Alexander County; Co. I, Captain Harrell, Rutherford
County; Co. K, Captain Alexander, Mecklenburg County.
About the 1st of September, 1863, the Fifty-sixth Regiment, except
Companys B and E, were detained to assist the Home Guards to arrest
deserters and conscripts, and for five months operated in the counties of
Randolph, Davidson, Moore, Montgomery, Chatham, Wilkes, Watauga, Ashe and
Alleghany. During this time we arrested and sent two thousand men to the
front that the militia were unable to manage, killing and wounding
thirty-five in making these arrests. During the last two months of this
service Company F furnished a provost guard of eighteen men, commanded by
Sergeant F. M. Stockton, at regiment headquarters, Ashboro, N. C. About
the 20th of January, 1864, the regiment gathered in camp at High Point,
N. C., and drilled ten days, and then joined General Pickett's command of
six brigades--Hoke's, Ransom's and Clingman's N. C. Brigades, Barton's,
Kemper's and Corse's Virginia Brigades. All met at Kinston, N. C., on the
30th of January, 1864, and made an expedition against New Bern,
accompanied by a regiment of cavalry, First N. C., under Colonel Dearing,
and several batteries of artillery. Set out 31st of January, and struck
the enemy at Core Creek on Deep Gully at 3 a. m. on the first day of
February, 1864. The Fifty-sixth was with Corse's Brigade. Hoke's Brigade
made the attack on the fortified position, supported directly by Corse's
Brigade. Some of the forts and block houses were flanked, and the fighting
was continuous until 9 a. m., when all positions were taken and the enemy
in full flight for New Bern. We got all their camp equippage, five hundred
prisoners, four pieces of artillery, commissary and quartermaster
supplies, and pursued them ten miles to New Bern, invested the town, and
skirmished around for thirty-six hours, then fell back. While on the
skirmish line at 1 a. m., 2d February, we saw a Federal gunboat blown up.
Our naval forces had gone down Neuse River in open boats and surprised and
captured this vessel, and after taking the prisoners off, blew it up. The
enemy were ready to evacuate as soon as we should make the assault, but
from some misunderstanding of orders the attack was not made, and General
Barton was afterwards court-martialed and acquitted.
We came back to Kinston and hanged twenty-five of those prisoners who were
found to be deserters from our army. Then we went to Weldon and put up
winter quarters where we had been in camp the summer before. About the
14th of February, a detail was made of twenty-five men from Company F and
twenty-five men from Company K, under command of Captain Grigg and
Lieutenant Shepherd, to help move the Federal prisoners from Richmond,
Va., to Andersonville, Ga. We were on this service until 26th of March.
These prisoners were in a pitiable plight and infected with small-pox.
William Allen and Pink Pryor caught it from them; don't see why we all did
not. During this time or early in March the Brigade made an expedition
against Suffolk, Va., and after a running fight with negro cavalry, took
that town, but did not hold it long. Capt. Cicero Durham, in command of a
skirmish line, drove all before him and charged into the cavalry line and
single-handed cut down several men with his own hand. Gilbert Green, of
Capt. Jud. Magness' company, was killed in the town, fired upon by some
negro troops from a house. The house was fired, and when the negroes
jumped out they were shot down. Green was the only man we lost.
On the 14th of April, 1864, we were under light marching orders to leave
our knapsacks and carry one blanket. The men were all in fine condition,
and of Company F, one hundred answered roll-call and set out on the
expedition for Plymouth, N. C., under Gen. R. F. Hoke. The forces
consisted of Hoke's and Ransom's N. C. and Kemper's Virginia brigades,
First N. C. Cavalry Regiment, and several batteries of field artillery. We
went by rail to Tarboro, and on the 15th set out for Plymouth, 65 miles
distant, or three days' marching. We arrived at Plymouth Sunday morning,
17th. The cavalry rushed forward and picked up first picket posts,
followed by infantry. As they brought prisoners back, we noticed one horse
shot in the nose, and a little further on a dead Yankee in the road.
General Hoke sent a truce flag and demanded the surrender of the post.
General Wissils, in command, indignantly replied, "Take it." General Hoke
replied, "Remove all non-combatants within twenty-four hours." We threw up
earthworks that night. Next day sharp skirmishing took place until the
twenty-four hours had expired, then a heavy skirmish line was thrown
forward and all the enemy driven inside their defenses; then thirty pieces
of artillery were brought into position and we began to shell the town.
The enemy replied with great spirit, and a terrible duel raged from near
sunset until 10 p. m. We were in front of our guns, lying flat, while the
shot and shells from both sides hissed, whizzed and bursted over us. While
we were engaged with the main fortifications, Hoke's Brigade was taking a
detached fort up the river by direct assault.
In addition to the land batteries, the gunboats in the river were hurling
huge shells at us. The next day, Tuesday evening, Ransom's Brigade worked
its way around east of the town and, after a sharp skirmish fight, drove
the Yankee pickets away from a deep creek, where we put in a pontoon
bridge and crossed over and took position after dark under a picket and
artillery fire. Here we formed for the final attack. The firing soon
ceased, as we did not reply, and we lay in line of battle and got a good
night's sleep. At first dawn of day we were standing in line in the
following order; Twenty-fifth on the right next to the river, Fifty-sixth
next, Eighth (from Clingman's Brigade, which was with us in place of
Forty-ninth) in center, then Twenty-fourth and Thirty-fifth on the left,
the field officers walking up and down the line quietly talking to the
men. "North Carolina expects every man to do his duty. Pay close attention
to orders, keep closed up, and press forward all the time. The sooner we
can get into the town the better for us."
Hoke's and Kemper's brigades were on the west side. They fired the signal
guns, advanced their picket lines as if they were going to assault from
that side, while we quietly moved forward and covered half the distance
before the fire was opened upon us. Then began the shower of shot and
shell. The two regiments on the right soon struck their cattle lot, and we
had a drove of cattle in front of us, but coming to a lagoon and swamp we
had to let the cattle pass back through our line. Then through water and
slush four feet deep we made our way through the swamp and re-formed under
cover of a little hill. The three regiments on our left passed around the
swamp. We then raised a yell and rushed forward upon the intrenchments
and were soon in possession of them, the Yankees falling back and taking
shelter behind the buildings, kept up a steady fire upon us as we advanced
rapidly. Our field artillery soon came in and opened fire, while the
Twenty-fifth swept along the river and captured a fort, and the other
regiments drove the balance of the enemy into the big Fort Williamson, on
the south side of the fortifications. The Fifty-sixth split into three
sections. Maj. John W. Graham advanced the center faster than the wings
and soon planted our flag on the west fortifications. This was a signal
for Hoke's and Kemper's brigades to come in from that side. On Monday
night of the first attack, at midnight, our ironclad gunboat, Albemarle,
came down the river and cleared it of all the Yankee shipping, sinking and
running off all their gunboats. The Albemarle was firing into Fort
Williamson. General Hoke demanded the surrender of this fort, but General
Wessel was slow in giving answer. When General Hoke began to form his
Brigade to assault it, the Stars and Stripes were hauled down and a white
flag raised. After three hours of hard fighting, the town with entire
garrison, consisting of two fine New York and two Pennsylvania infantry
regiments, with cavalry and strong artillery force, and besides the killed
and wounded, 2,800 prisoners. The post was strongly fortified and well
supplied with military stores and much mercantile goods. As soon as the
surrender was made, all our troops were turned loose to help themselves to
anything they wished--grocery and dry goods stores richly stocked to
select from. Being more than sixty miles from a railroad, and the enemy
still close by at Roanoke Island and Washington, we could only supply
immediate needs. We were marched out of town that evening.
Nearly all the loss was in Ransom's Brigade, which numbered about six
hundred killed and wounded. The Fifty-sixth lost ninety men. Company
F--John Webb, shot through the breast; Peter Price, through the lungs;
Hosea Gladden, in bowels, and died; Anderson Nolan, Allen Cogdall, Adney
Cogdall and William Chitwood were all severely wounded; Thomas Cabiness
and several others wounded. Dr. Lieut. V. J. Palmer was very seriously
wounded by having back of thigh cut with piece of shell.
After resting until the 25th of April, we struck out for Washington, N. C.
Thirty-five miles march brought us there on the 27th at 10 a. m. The
enemy's pickets were driven in and we skirmished around there and were
shelled from gunboats until morning of the 29th, when the town was
evacuated. Leaving the Sixth Regiment of Hoke's Brigade to garrison it, we
moved via Greenville and Snow Hill, crossing Neuse River below Kinston on
a pontoon bridge that we carried with us, on to New Bern, crossing Trent
River on our pontoon, and going down south side of Trent River, struck the
Beaufort railroad, capturing a cavalry picket post of seventy-five men. We
laid siege to New Bern and were soon under heavy shelling from the Yankee
gunboats. Barton's Virginia Brigade had joined us below Kinston.
After reconnoitering and getting into position twenty-four hours for
attack, General Hoke got orders at noon, 7th of May, 1864, to hasten to
the relief of Petersburg, Va., that General Butler had landed at City
Point with a force of forty thousand, while General Grant was pressing
General Lee with overwhelming force through the Wilderness battles.
Raising the siege of New Bern, we marched back to Kinston, arriving there
the 9th at 8 a. m., where we found trains ready to transport us to
Virginia. At 1 p. m. we arrived where Butler's cavalry had cut the
railroad between Weldon and Petersburg and were burning bridges and depots
and tearing up the road to cut us off. We (Ransom's Brigade) followed
close after them all that evening until after midnight, when they left the
railroad after tearing up and destroying twenty miles of the road. Here we
rested until 8 a. m., May 10th, when trains came out from Petersburg after
us. Boarding the cars with loaded guns, we arrived in Petersburg at 11 a.
m. As soon as our train rolled in we could hear the popping of musketry
on suburbs, and the greatest excitement prevailed. The citizens, women and
children, turned out to greet us. Beautiful ladies showered bouquets of
flowers upon us as we marched the streets, with such exclamations as, "We
are safe now. These are the brave North Carolinians who have driven the
enemy from their own State and have come to defend us. These are the brave
boys that took Plymouth," etc. We were marched down the Popular Lawn
Hospital grounds to a gushing rock spring, beautiful shade trees and green
grass, where we rested until next morning. As soon as we were settled the
white ladies and colored aunties began to pour in upon us with great
baskets of everything good to eat and gave us a bountiful feast. Early
next morning we moved out and took the Turnpike road towards Richmond,
leisurely marching all day while our cavalry were rubbing against the
enemy on our right with frequent brisk skirmishes. Out a few miles from
Petersburg we passed over the ground where Hagood's Florida Brigade had
checked the enemy's advance from that quarter a few days before. The
thickets were shattered and remnants of equipments were scattered about,
and the bloody places where many had fallen were still visible. Arriving
near Drury's Bluff, we lay down to sleep in line of battle beside the
Turnpike, facing east. About 2 a. m. the rain falling in our faces woke
us, and soon our pickets close by commenced firing. We retained our
position until day. Then we moved out on a country road to the right and
coming to a turnpike turned into a wheat field at a farm house and formed
line of battle in a pouring rain. Two good companies were taken from each
of our five regiments and deployed as skirmishers under the command of
Capt. Cicero Durham. They did not get out of our sight until they opened
fire on the enemy. We then marched a mile east of Turnpike and occupied a
good line of earthworks while heavy skirmish fighting was kept up all day.
Companys G and I of the Fifty-sixth were on the firing line. Captain
Durham made the enemy think we were anxious for a fight. He would charge
and drive their skirmishers back on their battle lines and then fall back,
and as soon as they advanced, charge and drive them back again, picking up
some prisoners every time. Thus it went on all day, while the rain fell in
continuous showers.
Next morning, 13th, all was quiet on the lines. In the afternoon we, the
Thirty-fifth, Forty-ninth and Fifty-sixth, moved west of Turnpike and,
crossing the railroad, occupied some earthworks on a commanding position.
The lines ran west then southwest. A nice dwelling stood back of the
corner. Generals Hoke and Ransom had dismounted and gone into the house.
The Forty-ninth on right, Thirty-fifth center, Fifty-sixth on left. We
were stretched out single file to cover the ground. The enemy was drawing
our attention down the railroad towards Petersburg by firing some shells
at us, all of which were falling a little short. We were in fine spirits,
hoping to see the enemy advance to the open in front, but it had been
discovered that the enemy had outflanked us and a force gone around.
Captain Durham was deploying his skirmishers in a small field near the
house and in our rear. Company H of Fifty-sixth was sent on the skirmish
line. Colonel Faison, of Fifty-sixth, was out there, and sent orders to
Captain Grigg for eighteen men. I went with them, and we lined up with
Company H. Just back of the field was a dense pine thicket. Colonel Faison
said: "They don't need you; you Company F men can go back to your
company," and he walked back with us. Then the Yankees massed in that pine
thicket, ran up to the fence and poured a volley into us. Generals Hoke
and Ransom mounted their horses and came over the earthworks through
Company F. Ransom, seeing a part of the Fifty-sixth on turn or angle would
be exposed to an enfilading or flank fire, said: "Colonel Faison, take
your regiment down and form on the railroad." Colonel Faison said, "Major
Graham, take those three companies on the left we had about-faced down and
form on railroad." Company F went with Major Graham, while Colonel Faison
kept the other seven companies there and helped to repulse the Yankees
until all could get out. The Twenty-fourth and Twenty-fifth were nearby,
and came to the railroad and we formed with them. Captain Durham followed
us and was taken off his horse in Company F. One arm was broken and he was
shot in the side. His arm was amputated and he died in a few days. Thus
ended the career of one of Cleveland County's bravest boys that did battle
for that cause. A battalion of picked men was being organized for him to
do all the sharp-shooting and skirmishing for the brigade.
Our company, H, had not deployed, and one over half was shot down. We
privates all thought had Colonel Faison obeyed Ransom's order to take his
regiment out, Thirty-fifth and Forty-ninth would have been captured. As
soon as they could stand the Yankees off, they came to the railroad, and
we all went up the railroad to the next line of defense, abandoning that
line. The Yankees followed us up and fortified a position, and kept up a
fire on us all day and night during 14th and 15th. General Ransom was
wounded in the arm about 9 a. m. on 15th, standing in rear of Company F,
exposing himself, I thought, unnecessarily, in company with some other
officer. I was looking at him and expecting it when he was hit. Beauregard
had now come up from Charleston and gathered up eighteen or twenty
thousand men. Tradition says Jeff Davis told Beauregard to drive Butler
away from there; Beauregard said he could not take the responsibility with
the force he had.
Jeff Davis told Beauregard to drive Butler away from there. Beauregard
said he could not take the responsibility with the force he had. Jeff
Davis: "I will take the responsibility." Beauregard: "All right, then I'll
do the fighting." On the night of the 14th and 15th of May our Company F
was ordered out in the open field in front of our breastworks on picket or
vidette duty, and lay all night in the open field under fire from the
enemy's sharpshooters.
We did not return the fire, or they would have killed us all. As it was,
they could only guess at our position in the dark. The bullets were
striking the ground around us with a noise as if they were as large as
goose eggs. Mike Crowder was severely wounded while we were taking
position.
On Monday morning, 16th of May, a very dark, foggy morning, Hoke's
division, I think, with Barton's Virginia Brigade leading the charge,
assaulted Butler's right next the river, breaking his strongly fortified
line and capturing two thousand prisoners the first dash. Then pressing
his broken flank with a strong force and throwing regiment after regiment
against his front, carried the entire line by 10 a. m. Ransom's Brigade,
commanded by Col. Leroy McAfee, made a front attack west side of Turnpike
road, Twenty-fourth, Twenty-fifth and Forty-ninth leading, supported by
Thirty-fifth and Fifty-sixth regiments. When our regiment got in the
enemy's earthworks their whole line was falling back. James S. Powell and
W. Cathey Wolfe, Company F, were wounded. We saw President Davis and
General Beauregard together on the field.
Our loss was three thousand killed and wounded. The Turnpike road, over
which the wounded were carried, was drenched with blood. The Yankee loss
was five thousand killed, wounded and captured. Butler fell back to
Bermuda Hundreds, under cover of his gunboats. General Hoke took his old
brigade, Clingman's North Carolina, Barton's, Kemper's and Corse's
Virginia brigades and hastened to General Lee at Cold Harbor, leaving
Ransom's North Carolina, Grace's Alabama, Walker's South Carolina, and
Wise's Virginia brigades to look after Butler. These were put in command
of Gen. Bushrod Johnson, and remained as Johnson's Division until the
close of the war.
Next day we followed Butler and fortified a position close to him and
where we were shelled from his gunboats. We extended our picket line to
within a few hundred yards of Butler's. On the morning of the 20th of May
we got orders to wash our shirts. We had left our knapsacks at Weldon,
N. C., on the 14th of April, and had had four weeks of strenuous campaign
in North Carolina and two weeks in Virginia. Six weeks without a chance to
wash or change our shirts, and now we had no vessels to warm water, so the
only chance was to wash in a small creek. Our shirts from sweat and grime
had gotten so dirty and stiff they would almost stand upright. Shirts were
washed and hung on bushes to dry, but before all got dry, or at 1 p. m.,
we were ordered to fall into line for another battle. We wanted Butler's
picket line for our line to crowd him closer and fortify our picket line.
Both picket lines had rifle pits and were hard to take at best. The
Thirty-fifth and Fifty-sixth were ordered to take the picket line in front
of our brigade. The Thirty-fifth deployed and charged forward, followed by
Fifty-sixth in line of battle. The Thirty-fifth was driven back, and
Fifty-sixth charged up and found a strong line of battle in the rifle
pits. When we got in forty or fifty yards of them we were ordered to fire,
lay down, load, shoot. When we had fired five rounds under a terrible hail
of bullets at so close range, some one said, "They are flanking us." Then
the order to retreat. We were in an old pine field with some undergrowth
of oak bushes, while the Yankee line was on the edge of a dense wood. We
fell back and rallied when some regiments of Walker's South Carolina
Brigade came in on our right and with a yell charged on the Yankees, who
were advancing on us. The Twenty-sixth lined up with them and helped to
drive the Yankees back to their line of rifle pits. Our line lay down and
kept up our fire on them until our ammunition was pretty well spent. The
Fifty-sixth had ninety-six killed and wounded. Company F lost four killed
and nine severely wounded and several slightly wounded. Our killed were
left where they fell and were buried by the enemy. They were Second
Lieutenant Dick Williams, a brave soldier and a man loved by all his
company; privates Thomas P. Cabaniss, Christopher Powell and Winslow
Wright, all good soldiers. Powell and Cabaniss were single men. Cabaniss
was killed by my side, and my left cheek was blistered by a hot bullet.
Frank Webb and J. M. Smith died of their wounds. Jefferson Spurlin lost a
leg and Johnson Spangler lost an arm. Sam. Daugherty, Peter Louis, Morman
Bookout, B. McMurry and Monroe Kirby were all severely wounded. That night
we fortified our picket line, and General Walker reconnoitering his
position was wounded and captured. We were so close to them that firing
was kept up all night and for several days following. On the evening of
the 22d a truce was had to bury some dead between the lines. And the
graves of our dead were visited. A few days after this a skirmish line
from our brigade charged and took this Yankee skirmish line which had cost
us so much on the 20th of May. Here we lay in the burnt woods, within a
few hundred yards of the enemy, firing and shelling every day until the
1st of June. Our brigade crossed James River on a pontoon bridge and
passed through the Seven Pines battle ground to the Chickahominy River,
where we spent a few days in sight of the enemy's position on the north
side, the picket of each making the river the line. We then came up to
Chafin's farm or bluff and spent about a week, until the night of 15th of
June. We marched all night to Petersburg, Va.
Grant had now advanced the head of his column, and our little force of
four brigades must hold him in check until Lee could come. So we had to
vacate our lines between the Appomattox and James rivers and throw our
main forces in defense of Petersburg, where we arrived at sunrise. The
Fifty-sixth was sent up the north side of the Appomattox to guard the
cotton factories from a cavalry raid, while the other four regiments went
to the front and were fighting all day. During the day Butler's forces
destroyed the railroad between Petersburg and Drury's Bluff. After dark we
joined the brigade on the Turnpike and started back toward Drury's Bluff.
We only went a few miles, feeling for the Yankees, but were kept on foot
nearly all night. Next morning, 17th, some flat cars came after us and
landed us in Petersburg, and we hurried to the front. Grant had taken some
of the outside lines, and we formed a line in a corn field and threw up
breastworks under shelling and picket fire. While fortifying our line,
Joseph Crowder was killed and James Bedford and Simon Eskridge were
mortally wounded. About 2 p. m. Grant began to assault our line next to
the river on our left, and kept it up for a long time. Our boys would yell
when they would drive them back and pass the word along the line,
"Repulsed with great loss; hold your position at all hazards; Lee's army
will be here at 10 to-night." Near sunset they took the position held by
Wise's Brigade. We were under moving orders at once, and a little after
dark the Thirty-fifth and Fifty-sixth, and probably some of our other
regiments, joined Grace's Alabama Brigade to retake the lost ground. The
full moon was an hour or two high. After a quick but desperate struggle
the line was retaken, to be abandoned next morning. All our historians
give the Alabamians all the credit and none mention the North Carolinians.
In the night and through the woods I thought at the time all our brigade
was there. I know the Thirty-fifth was next to us and sustained heavy
loss. About 2 a. m. we fell back to a new and last position in front of
Cemetery Hill, now known as the Crater, leaving a strong skirmish line
with orders to hold as long as they could and to fall back as slowly as
possible. This was to enable us to fortify another line which had only
been staked off the day before.
At daybreak on the 18th we were standing in single file, half line of
battle, when we heard Grant's massive columns charge on our skirmishers
and take the last ditch between them and Petersburg. Our artillery was all
in position on our last line. Lee's army had not come, and Grant only had
a half line of tired and worn-out soldiers in his front, standing in open
field between him and Petersburg. The Fifty-sixth in the night battle was
on the left flank, and did not suffer like the other regiments. Of Company
F, Noah Phillips, was killed, Spencer Moore and Wesley Revels captured.
When the enemy got those earthworks, we expected them on us at once.
Having only seven or eight tools to the company, we fell to work with our
bayonets to make a hole to squat in. We had bluffed them so the night
before that they thought Lee had arrived, and waited several hours before
they drove in our brave skirmishers that held them in a wood until we had
a good ditch. Though we had had but little sleep and rest for three days
and nights, we moved dirt in a hurry. We occupied a most commanding
position. Fifty-sixth covered the ground now known as the Crater. Some
branches, broad fields, with some skirts of woods lay in front of us.
About 10 a. m. our skirmishers were driven in after an heroic resistance.
Then the long blue lines came gleaming on. The officers galloping over the
field, while battery after battery were taking position under the fire of
our artillery and opening fire on us. Then to our left, winding down a
ravine, we saw Longstreet's column coming in, and soon came crowding up
our ditch Anderson's Division, South Carolinians and Georgians. Most of
these regiments were very short, and I was eager to note what these
battle-scarred veterans who had just been fighting for a month through the
Wilderness thought of the situation. Tired from an all-night's march, but
as soon as they got in position they stripped blankets and piling handfuls
of cartridges on the breastworks got up on the parapet, took a look in
front and said, "This is a good place; we would like for them to come on
ten lines deep, so we won't waste any lead." Then they quietly sat down.
We were now too much crowded, and our regiment was ordered out and I was
ordered to help carry some boxes of ammunition that belonged to our
company. The Fifty-sixth started back in a run across a broad field under
heavy fire. Longstreet's men objected to our taking the ammunition, and
while we were parleying about it, Captain Gee, of Ransom's staff, came
along and I called his attention to it, and he said, "Oh, leave it here,
those men may need it." We were now left and started around to go up the
ravine and came up with Lieutenant Davis, of Company G, Fifty-sixth, who
said: "Fifty-sixth is just ordered back to rest. A part of the companies
on the right of the battery (at Crater) are still here. The Yankees had
opened such a heavy fire they would not try to get out. There is going to
be an interesting time here, and I want to see it out. If you will stay
with me I will take care of you." Six or seven of his company were with
him. Soon Sergt. Wm. London and Isaac Randall of Company F joined us.
Peter Price, who had been shot through the lung at Plymouth, was wounded
in the thigh as they fell back, and Mayor Graham was wounded in the arm.
We were now about one hundred and fifty yards to the left of the Crater
battery. At about 1 p. m. three lines of battle made a desperate effort to
break our lines on the right. We could see them form an advance like they
were on dress parade, raise their cheer and rush close to our line; then
our volleys would knock them into confusion. In the meantime they were
bringing line after line down to the branch in our front, where they could
find cover under the hill. We would let them get about midway in a field,
then we could get about two rounds into them before they got under cover.
Soon they began to charge us from this close quarter, but two or three
rounds would drive them back under cover shelter. Finally they crawled up
the side of a hill and massed seven flags within two hundred yards of us,
and lay there until night. The heavy firing of musketry and artillery
lasted until midnight before we could get out. Captain Roberts, of Company
B, Fifty-sixth, had his head shot off. One tall, dark-eyed South
Carolinian was shot in the head and killed by my side. He was a brave man,
taking deliberate aim every shot. One other man was wounded close to me.
A. P. Hill's corps got to Petersburg at night of 18th. Next morning Jesse
Lattimore, of Company F, Thirty-fourth N. C. Regiment, visited us, and was
still in good spirits of whipping the Yankees. We told him they hadn't
brought men enough with them and their regiments were too small. After
resting twenty-four hours we moved right and worked on some
fortifications.
On the evening of 24th of June, Wilcox's Division attacked Grant's left,
supported by our brigade and a part of Johnson's division. It was called
the battle of Huckleberry Swamp. The enemy was strongly entrenched, and we
fell back after dark. We were only slightly under fire. We recalled that
Lafayette Beam, of Capt. David Magness' company, Thirty-eighth Regiment,
was killed that evening. We occupied Scales Brigade camp, and about
midnight they came in on us and we all lay and slept until late next
morning.
The next night we took position on the branch to the left of the Crater.
We had always felt pretty safe in the earthworks until here Grant began to
shell us with mortars, throwing huge shells up to fall on us or to burst
over us and the fragments rain upon us; so now began the most serious time
when we could not get rest day nor night except under incessant fire. The
left of our brigade rested on the Norfolk railroad, and we held this
position in the open fields under a July sun for six weeks, the regiments
changing position every week. Our food was miserable--musty meal and
rancid Nassau bacon. Our bread was cooked at the wagon yard on canal, west
side of Petersburg. When the bread had been cooked twelve hours it would
pull out like spider-webs. We were on picket or fatigue duty nearly every
night. One-third had to stand to arms all the time, and from 2:30 a. m.
all had to stand to arms until sunrise. The two lines were on an average
five hundred yards apart.
On the 11th of July, while working on a covered way to the rear, I was
wounded in the left arm above the elbow, the ball grazing and bruising the
inside of the arm. I was disabled and sent back to field hospital for a
few days, during which time I caught measles. Then after a week in the
trenches I was sent back to the hospital at Richmond. The men were now
breaking down faster under the awful strain and bad fare; many were taking
typhoid fever, and nearly all had dysentery. A train load of sick and
wounded were being shipped to Richmond every day.
I left on the 28th of July. It was known that the Yankees were undermining
our works, and we were tunneling all around to meet them, but our tunnel
at the Crater missed them about fifty feet. On the 30th the Crater was
exploded under Elliott's South Carolina Brigade, formerly Walker's, on our
right. I shall not attempt a description of that memorable event farther
than to say Ransom's Brigade, commanded by Colonel Rutledge of
Twenty-fifth, held its position and helped to retake the lost ground,
though none of our historians seem to be advised of that fact. Up to this
time, Lieutenant Grigg, Perry Ross, Arthur Blanton and Alexander Kennedy
had been wounded, and soon after Starlin Jones was mortally wounded. When
I convalesced I found John Carter and Dobbins Wesson in the same ward with
typhoid fever, and I went to see them every day. One evening when I
called, Carter said he was glad to see me, that he wanted to talk with me,
for he was going to die. I tried to encourage him, but he said he could
not live long. He said he was not afraid to die, that he had always tried
to live right, and that it was a great consolation that he had never done
anything that would reflect on his people left behind. Thus, before the
rising of another sun, a good and true man passed to his reward. A few
days after when I visited Wesson he told me that he was in great trouble,
that his wife had quit writing to him, etc. I tried to encourage him, when
the ward master beckoned to me and said, "You need not pay any attention
to him. He is delirious and don't know what he is talking about. He jumped
out of the window and we had to catch him and bring him back. If you know
his people you can write them that he will not live until to-morrow
morning." I wrote them to that effect. He was a brave and faithful soldier
and loved by his comrades.
Of the twenty-five of Company F that died that summer of sickness, I will
mention four of my mess, who were all good and true soldiers and
participated in all the battles up to squat. Thomas Davis, Riley Barnett,
John Ledford and Thomas L. Nowlin. While I was away, Ransom's Brigade was
in the battle of Ream's Station on Weldon railroad, in August, and Louis
Justice and Migamon Haynes were killed. Sergt. F. M. Stockton, Luther Lutz
and William Chitwood, and probably others, were wounded.
I got back to the company the 15th of October, after a sixty-days
furlough, and found our brigade resting left of Appomattox River. Here we
remained through the long, hard winter, under fire day and night. During
this time Lieutenant Purse was wounded, also Wesley Richards and Sergeant
William London mortally wounded. I can not see how we escaped so well, but
we learned to lay low, dig holes and contrive bomb-proofs. Then Spencer
Crowder used to say that we had Uncle Johnnie London to pray for us.
Spencer tried to quit swearing, and we thought he had succeeded, but the
last battle we were in he cursed the Yankees as bad as ever. We fortified
our position and had portholes for our sharpshooters made of sand bangs
and iron plates. Besides the hard fare, we suffered for want of fuel. Our
company only got eight or ten sticks of green pine wood per day most of
the time. During the winter we got coffee and some canned beef, which
helped us greatly. Governor Vance tried to give us a Christmas dinner, but
it was only a quart of little Irish potatoes. Our wages were raised from
$11 to $15 per month, but they quit paying us at all and owed us for three
or four months at the close. The following prices prevailed: Bacon, $10
lb.; pork and beef, $5 lb.; peas, $1 qt.; corn meal, $1.25 qt.; rice, $1
lb.; salt, $1; sweet potatoes, medium, $1 each, and everything else in
proportion.
On the 15th of January, 1865, I was detailed to report to General Ransom's
headquarters for special duty, and met a force of several others from
brigade. We were taken in command by Lieut. A. Clate Sharp, of
Forty-ninth, to boat wood down the river and canal for the men in the
trenches. We were soon comfortably quartered at our wagon yard. Here we
went seven miles up the canal and two miles up the river into another
canal, where we got the wood. This was a real picnic all the time. With
three men to the boat, we would bring down four cords of wood on a boat.
While out there I would often see General Lee, nearly always by himself,
riding around leisurely. I got rations from home and fared sumptuously,
while the poor fellows in the ditches were having it rough. They were now
trimmed out to one man to the yard. About the first of March about a dozen
of Company F concluded they had enough of it, and all started for home,
taking their guns with them. They had gotten information from me that
there were no guards next to the river, and succeeded in getting through.
I will not name them here. They nearly all had been good and faithful
soldiers who had borne more hardships than I. They had been in those bleak
and bloody trenches for nearly nine months. The annual spring campaign was
coming on, and every private knew that resistance could not much longer be
sustained. On the 15th of March my detail ended, and we were relieved from
the ditches and went to Hotches Run, ten miles away.
Grant was pressing Lee's right, and about 3 a. m. on March 25th, Lee
attacked Grant in front of our old position next to the river and carried
it with little or no loss. We went in to hold it, and after day they
attacked us with a heavy force, and holding the lines on both our flanks,
after two hours of hard fighting, turned our right flank and compelled our
right to fall back or surrender. The enemy held a fort close on our left,
and when they came swarming over the hill on our right and pressing our
front we had to surrender with two thousand on that end of the line. All
of Company F that were together, thirty-four in all, including Captain and
Lieutenant Grigg, Lieutenant Dr. V. J. Palmer, had been in front of our
line, and seeing the predicament, slipped out and escaped without coming
back through the company. George Thompson was mortally wounded. This was
the last of Company F, except five or six rallied by Lieutenant Palmer.
The spring before we started out with one hundred, this spring we had
forty men in line.
We took our position an hour or two before day. The Yankees had three
strong lines of earthworks, with stockade in front, but they only had a
skirmish line holding it, while their comfortable encampments were in the
rear. We could easily have taken the lines on our left to Appomattox River
when we first went in, but it was soon strongly reinforced. As we were
marched back to the rear we met battery after battery of field artillery
coming in. An artilleryman said, "Johnnies, if you had held them works an
hour longer we would have had five hundred guns and cannons playing on
you." We were soon back in our camps and marched around through them for
three miles to General Meade's headquarters. In some camps the men were
playing ball and frolicking like no enemy was near. Others were falling
into line of march; others had muskets stacked ready to fall in at a
moment's notice. Far back in the rear endless columns were marching to the
left flank of their lines to outflank Lee's right. At Meade's headquarters
we were joined by two thousand more of our men who had been captured that
morning on Hotche's Run. About 2 p. m. we were reviewed by General Grant
and President Lincoln, riding horseback, followed by a troop of cavalry
and a number of fine carriages containing officers and ladies. They
marched by us and returned and came back by us, where we were in the open
along the road. We were then put on some flat or freight cars and shipped
to City Point. There we were put inside their large barrack inclosure
where their own men were kept under the same guard with us. The next
morning they gave us some boiled fat pork and a handful of hardtack. As we
came down we passed through Sheridan's cavalry camp of thirty thousand
strong.
On Sunday evening, March 26th, General McHenry, a white-headed old man,
commanding the post, got upon a barrel and made a speech. He said the war
would soon be over, and that President Lincoln had offered amnesty to all
who would lay down their arms or desert the Confederate army and come over
to the Union side, and that they would be allowed to go North and work. He
said that no doubt some of us had wished to desert and quit fighting and
had not had a chance to do so, and now he would give us a chance to take
the oath of allegiance to the United States if we would volunteer to do
so. He would send such up to Washington and see if President Lincoln would
accept it and allow them to take the oath and go North and be free from
war. When the call for deserter volunteers was arranged, the greatest fun
started among the four thousand prisoners. They would make all kinds of
humorous remarks about the deserter volunteers. When one would step out,
"You are welcome to him; he is as cowardly as any of your hirelings. There
goes another; we are glad to get rid of him, for he never was any good,"
etc. About thirty volunteered and were removed from their fellows. Then he
called for three hundred volunteers who wished to be exchanged at
once--sent up to Richmond, where they could go to fighting again. We
raised a yell, and about two hundred rushed forward. He then called, "Come
on, all who want more fighting." There was much stir, comrades hunting up
each other so as to keep together. Company F rallied and joined the
fighting column, except five or six, who held back and afterwards went up
to Washington with the deserter volunteers. We were marched to the wharf
and put on a steamboat that carried us to Point Lookout Prison, Maryland,
instead of Richmond for exchange. At the time we volunteered so briskly we
did not believe we would be exchanged, and its very evident that not many
wished to be, for they all believed that the war would be over in a few
weeks.
While on the wharf a nice, clever old citizen came up to me, a beardless
boy, and entered into a conversation. He said, "It is very fortunate for
you that you were taken prisoner. You are in the hands of a civilized and
Christian people who will treat you well and you will not have to fight
any more. The war will be over in six months, and you can then return to
your loved ones at home." I heard him patiently, and he felt he was making
a good impression on me. Then I retorted: "You are putting it off for six
months now, are you? I thought you said you would whip us in three months
at the start." He turned away and seemed to lose interest in me. I was
from the inside and could have told him the war would be over in six
weeks.
We had a good voyage. Stopped a half hour at Fortress Monroe, where there
was a great deal of shipping, including war vessels of all nations. We
arrived at Point Lookout, Md., at sunset. Our names were recorded and we
were overhauled and ushered into prison. There were about three thousand
there when we arrived, on the first boat load of the spring campaign. We
were assigned quarters in tents already occupied. I thought they would be
glad to see us and hear from home, but they seemed mad and asked very few
questions that night. But we soon learned that talking was not allowed
after dark, as white guards walked the streets inside, while negro
sentinels were on the outside parapet. We were always interested in the
new-comers, who continued to come for two or three weeks, until the number
was increased to twenty-three thousand. Point Lookout lays between
Chesapeake Bay and Potomac River, and is nearly surrounded by water. The
prison on the Chesapeake side was drained into that bay, and was an ideal
place for a military prison, and was considered one of the most healthful
prisons. It was enclosed by a high plank fence with two gates, opening to
bay and one for entrance on southeast corner. It was divided into ten or
twelve divisions, with nearly as many cook-houses, one chapel and
school-house, eight wells, no two of which contains the same kind of
water. The water was strong coperas, alum, and some nearly fair freestone.
The Confederate government had an agent there, a Methodist preacher by the
name of Morgan and a South Carolinian. His business was to look after the
welfare of the prisoners, to distribute clothing, etc., very little of
which was distributed after we got there. He ran the schools and regulated
religious worship in the chapel. We got for a day's ration three-quarters
of a pound of loaf bread and six crackers, one pint of soup with a
spoonful or two of beans and potatoes in it. About one-quarter pound of
fat boiled pork two days, one-half pound fresh beef or mutton one day, and
one-half pound of fish (mackeral or codfish) four days in each week. We
had no fuel and had to eat fish raw. We got plenty of soap, but nothing to
warm water with to wash. We had access to the bay for washing and bathing.
There were several details to work on outside of prison, for which we got
tobacco and some extra rations. When outside about the wharves we could
get a little wood, such as barrel staves, chips and pieces of planks.
There were two or three hundred men taken out every fair day to work, and
I got out a good deal, was on a regular detail for two or three weeks,
which was a great help. The hospital grounds adjoined the prison, and many
were in the hospital. It was reported that the death rate some days was
more than twenty. Only one of our company died there--Benjamin Jenkins.
Lee's surrender was celebrated by firing signal guns for twenty-four
hours. Then Lincoln's death was honored by all flags half-mast and firing
one-half-hour guns for twenty-four hours.
Those fellows who volunteered to take the oath and were sent to Washington
had been refused by President Lincoln, but they were all discharged first.
Major A. G. Brady was in command of the post. We got no mail or papers.
There was a bulletin board for posting orders and news.
There were negroes who had been captured in the Confederate army that
remained true and preferred staying with us instead of taking the oath and
going free. Also a large number of English sailors, blockade runners, West
India negroes, and political prisoners all together. When they began to
discharge us about the 6th of June, thirty-two were called out at a time
and stood under the Stars and Stripes and took the oath of allegiance
together and subscribed to the same in the record books. I got out the
12th of June, and was landed in Richmond on the night of the 13th. Here we
were bountifully supplied with rations and given railroad transportation.
Everything had now changed. Richmond and all the principal towns were
swarming with Federal troops. We remained in Richmond two days on account
of a washout, and did not reach home until the 20th of June.
I will state that Lieut. V. J. Palmer and the four or five men with him
were captured at Five Forks when the lines were broken. About the first of
April, Lieutenant Palmer had his men to load for him, and he stood on the
parapet and fired as fast as the guns could be handed to him, until he was
surrounded. In the last battle, on the 25th March, 1865, Lieutenant
Palmer, with several others, took a position in front of the lines in some
narrow drain ditches, where they could keep up a continual fire, while the
main line only fired when the enemy advanced in force. During this time T.
J. Dixon shot down a brave Yankee at close range, and said, "Boys, don't
shoot him any more." L. A. Bridges brought down several of the bravest
Yankees at close range. The Yankee who took Bridges' gun said, "You have
been using it; it is pretty hot." Bridges said, "Yes, I got it from you
and have made the best use of it I could. You can have it; I reckon it
belongs to you."
Among those who were never seriously wounded or sick, but were always in
their places, were First Sergt. Andy London, who stood at the head of
Company F in every battle; Sergt. H. Dedmon, Spencer A. Crowder, Jno. A.
Tesseneer, Flay Gantt, Samuel Hasten, Graham Wilson, T. J. Hoard, Sabert
Hoard, Joseph Beam, David Peeler and L. A. Bridges. Lieut. V. J. Palmer
and Alfred Grigg were always at their posts except while disabled by
wounds. Peter Price died last July, James Finch died last year, Lieut.
Alfred Grigg moved to Kentucky, Jno. Grigg to Louisiana, Frank Hasten to
Tennessee.
SUPPLEMENTAL TO HISTORY OF COMPANY F.
The names of Joseph Hasten and Ephraim Wilson, who died early in the
service, and Jesse Willis, a senior recruit who served faithfully to the
end, were omitted. These are all I can get up. My comrades at this time
can give me but little information. People ask how I can recollect so well
after so many years. I kept a diary of all important events. Then my
mother, who is still living, has all the letters I wrote home during my
service in the army. I had nine first cousins in the regular army, and
only two survived the war, and they were both severely wounded twice, and
I am the only survivor, though I have an uncle living, my mother's
brother, Dr. Thos. L. Carson, who was at General Lee's surrender.
CONFEDERATE MONUMENT AT SHELBY.
The Soldier's Monument at Shelby seems to be all that could be desired
from anyone's standpoint. There's nothing boastful, nothing flattering or
inconsistent. It simply expresses a patriotic duty performed in the
greatest crisis in the history of our country. That generation passed
through an ordeal second to none in the annals of modern history. Their
descendants by whom it is erected have no apologies to make. The massive
granite column, to last for ages, will tell the simple story of pride in
the heroic fortitude of such ancestry--and will ever be an inspiration to
the rising manhood of coming generations. It is most fitting that it is
erected now after more than forty years of candid deliberation. If it had
been erected thirty years ago it would only have represented our fallen
heroes. Ten years ago, when it was first suggested to rear a monument for
all Confederate soldiers, living and deceased, the living generally
protested, thinking it egotistical or boastful to erect a monument to
themselves. But the Daughters were too enthusiastic to wait for all the
old soldiers to die, and now all old soldiers approve their course and are
most grateful for the monument to their comrades, which by and by will
stand for all.
The statue on the monument is a good specimen of the stalwart private
soldier, and would well represent Private Charles Blanton, of the
Fifty-fifth N. C. Regiment, who once captured fourteen prisoners on the
skirmish line. Having heard his comrades tell of this heroic deed a few
years ago, I asked Mr. Blanton how he did it. He said: "We were ordered to
drive the Yankee skirmishers back and locate their battle line. As we
advanced on them we saw several taking shelter in a rifle pit, when six or
eight of us made a rush to take the pit, and when I got there they ducked
down and looked scared, and I ordered them to thrown down their guns and
get out of there quick, and they obeyed promptly. As I stepped behind them
I saw that I was alone--the others having all been shot down--and seeing
their battle line laying flat close by, ordered my prisoners to
double-quick to the rear, and I trotted them out all right. When I
commanded them to surrender, I thought my comrades were close by, and I
had them under good control before I knew any better."
Mrs. Stonewall Jackson refusing a $1,200 pension, while indigent widows
and veterans only get a pittance, may cause them to get $150,000 more than
heretofore. It is the happiest thought that our countrymen still
appreciate most highly the principle that money can not buy. Mrs. Jackson
belongs to history, linked to a name that will live through the ages, an
inspiration to the highest ideals of patriotic devotion, that bring most
desirable achievements that untold generations will be proud to honor.
A PATRIOTIC RECRUIT.
The soldiers life, even in the most strenuous and dangerous campaigns,
finds some relief in jest and laughter, like flowers strewn along the
thorny paths of hardships. When you hear an old soldier boast of his
exploits and miraculous escapes, you can credit him for having been both a
good forager and a good dodger. The best soldiers are ambitious,
patriotic, jovial, patient and uncomplaining.
When our Company F, Fifty-sixth Regiment, had been in the Camp of
Instruction a few weeks, a young, enthusiastic recruit came in. He showed
all the marks of a good soldier, even to a very fine opinion of himself.
He was eager to take a stand in the front rank from the start; and he was
speedily supplied with the regulation equipment. Then he called on some of
the boys at a game of marbles, who interrogated him about his outfit, and
inquired if he had got his marbles. He: "Do I get marbles?" They: "Of
course every soldier is allowed a set of marbles." He: "And where do I get
my marbles?" "You will find your marbles at the Colonel's tent, but when
you go after them you must salute the Colonel." He: "Salute how?" "This
way: Catch your hat with this hand, raise the other hand, fingers
extended, and strike out this way." After practicing him for awhile, they
told him that would do--he had it right. Then he bolted for the Colonel's
tent with all the assurance with which he would accost a township
constable. The Colonel was a West Pointer and as dignified and austere as
the Czar of all the Russias. After saluting the Colonel, he said,
"Colonel, I have just come in and drawed my outfit and have called in to
get my marbles." The Colonel: "The h--ll you say! Report to your quarters
at once or I'll have you put in the guard-house." When he came back, he
looked like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on his patriotic
enthusiasm. They inquired, "Did you get your marbles?" He: "No!" "What did
the Colonel say?" "He cussed me and threatened to put me in the
guard-house."
The reader can imagine what a laugh they had at the breaking in of a real
good soldier, who proved faithful to the end. But ever afterwards,
whenever he got on a "high hoss," some one would ask him what the Colonel
said when he went after his marbles.
A BAD CASE OF ITCH.
In the fall of 1863, while my regiment, the Fifty-sixth North Carolina,
was on detail service arresting conscripts and deserters in the middle
and western counties, our company headquarters then being at Hannah's
Cross Roads in Davidson County, a stout, strapping boy of 18 came from
Catawba County to join the army with us. He had two uncles in our company
who were off with a detachment; and he, being a stranger to all present,
and noticing that he had a bad case of itch, all stood aloof from him.
After he had been in camp a few days Iley Gantt got a short furlough to
visit his sick wife. He, noticing Gantt's arrangements for going home,
inquired what he was going home for. Ike Powell said, "We are sending
Gantt home because he has got the each." He: "Well, I've got the each."
P.: "Yes, I see you have, and what did you come here with the each for.
We've got trouble enough here without the each." He: "Well, if you say so
I'll go home too, for I am getting mighty tired of this place anyhow." P.:
"Well, that would be the best thing you could do." He: "But I've eat up
all the rations I brought from home, and I 'haint got nothing cooked to
eat, and I can't cook--never cooked any in my life." P.: "Then I'll tell
you what you do; you go to Capt. Grigg and tell him you want a man
detailed to cook some rations to do you home; tell him you are going with
Gantt, and that you will stay away from here until you are plumb well of
the each." The young recruit bolted to the Captain, who soon set him
straight on army rules and regulations.
LONGSTREET'S CORPS WAS ON THE WAY TO CHICKAMAUGA.
The same fall I was at High Point, N. C., and saw Longstreet's Corps pass.
The trains all stopped there and I mingled and talked much with them. I
never saw soldiers in higher spirits. As they had come through Raleigh,
they had destroyed the late ex-Governor W. W. Holden's _Raleigh Standard_
printing press. They exhibited papers fastened to sticks like flags, with
handfuls of type. Holden had been advocating peace and they considered him
a traitor to the South. They said those western Yankees had been having
things their own way out there, but Lee's men were going to give them
something that they would not forget soon. "We will put them in a trot
like we have been chasing them out of Virginia." They were traveling on
freight and flat-cars, with as many on top of freight boxes as inside.
About a week after that we were at High Point again, conveying some
arrested conscripts to Raleigh, when train load after train load of
Federal prisoners passed going from Chickamauga to Richmond. The trains
stopped and we talked with those western prisoners and found them very
sassy and determined about the Union. One big, red-whiskered fellow said
to me: "What you fellers doing back here so far in the rear?" We replied:
"We have plenty of men at the front to attend to you fellows. We are just
resting and having a good time." He replied, "Yes, d----n you; I guess you
are back here hunting for conscripts and trying to force good Union men
into your d----d army." His train pulled out and we let him go at that,
but thinking from the grit he displayed that he must be a Tennessean or
Kentuckian.
SHOOTING AN OUTLAW.
While operating in Randolph County, N. C., in September, 1864, we wounded
in the foot and captured a man who had not been in the army but was said
to head a band of outlaws. His name was Northcut. He was tried by a little
drumhead court marshal and shot on short notice one mile north of Ashboro
as we were leaving that section for Wilkes County, where there was a
strong Union sentiment hard to hold down. After operating in the mountains
several months, where much apple brandy, fat beef, milk and honey
abounded, we returned to Randolph and the adjoining counties of Davidson,
Moore, Montgomery and Chatham, where there was much work to do. Here we
began pressing property, especially horses and feed, from the disloyal to
force them to bring in their conscript sons, and soon a number of our
company was mounted, only intending to use the horses while operating in
that vicinity; but Governor Vance, being advised of it, complained to the
Confederate War Department and threatened to turn his militia loose on us
and drive us from the State if such conduct was not stopped and all
property pressed promptly turned over to the original owners--and we had
to come down off our high horses and take it afoot again. Up to that time
I had not developed quite courage enough to steal a horse, but was caught
red-handed with a good mount in this temporary "critter company."--a
furloughed man having given me his horse. So my dignity was shocked when I
had to come down from my self-promoted position to a flatfooted
infantryman again.
REMOVING FEDERAL PRISONERS FROM RICHMOND, VA., TO ANDERSONVILLE, GA.,
FEBRUARY AND MARCH, 1864.
I was on a detail and made three trips via Raleigh, Charlotte, Columbia to
Branchville, S. C. These prisoners had been confined on Belle's Island, in
James River, and were in a most pitiable condition--half starved, half
naked. Most of them had been in prison for months and very few had a
change of garments. They were ragged, lousy, filthy and infested with
smallpox, and most of them had diarrhoea and scurvy and were so weak
that when they would swing down out of box-cars their legs would give away
when their feet struck the ground, and they would fall in a heap on the
ground. I don't think they got anything to eat except a little bread and
meat, mostly cornbread. They were transferred in box-cars, forty packed
into a car. We sometimes stopped at Raleigh to change cars, and always
stopped at Charlotte twelve to twenty-four hours. We ran up the Seaboard
to where it crossed the Statesville Railroad, then in the woods. A small
branch ran under both roads east and north of crossing, with embankments
on south and west, and we put them out there, where they had free access
to the branch. One night several crawled up a drain ditch from branch
along railroad and got out between the guard; others were caught in the
act and stopped.
Old man Tyree, of Company K detail, whose home was not far away, said he
could get some bloodhounds that would run them down. He was sent after the
dogs and they were put on their tracks after they had been gone four or
five hours, and followed them about thirty miles and caught them. The next
time we stopped there, at 2 a. m., they, the prisoners, seemed restless, a
number being up and moving around near the guard lines. Two or three made
a break through the guard lines and escaped in the darkness. Several shots
were fired at them, which awoke and roused up the whole camp. They were
ordered to lay down, but would not obey, even when the officers ordered us
to fire into them. But instead of firing into them, as we were ordered,
tried firing a few shots over them, which had the effect to make them lay
down. The officers then went among them and told them if anyone got up
before day he would be shot down. But still, occasionally, one would get
up and a guard would fire over him. At last one of the guards shot and
killed one. That might have been omitted, though we had orders to do so.
All the guards deplored that rash action. An old, sick Irishman fell in
the branch and died that night. I noticed after the war six or eight
graves at that wayside camp. Those who escaped that night probably got
through, as we never heard of them again.
While on guard in the car with them some of them twitted us about being
afraid of our officers. I told them our officers were kind and treated us
well; that I had been in the army seven months and had never seen a man
bucked and gagged; and, turning to a serious-looking Irishman, who was
listening with interest, but had said nothing, I asked him if he had ever
seen anything of that kind in their army. He answered, "Yes, my friend;
I've been bucked and gagged meself many a time." That was a clincher for
me that ended the discussion. The bad treatment of prisoners on both sides
makes one of the darkest pictures of that war. We understand statistics
show the mortality to be 13 per cent on the Federal side to 9 per cent on
the Confederate. My own experience in a Federal prison at the close of the
war, while very disagreeable, was much better than those poor fellows were
getting with us. But when we take into consideration the superior
resources of the United States, they were, to say the least, equally
negligent and resentful to their helpless enemies. Point Lookout Federal
prison will be treated on in another chapter.
NAVIGATING THE APPOMATTOX RIVER.
It has been mentioned in a former chapter that I was on a detail in
winter, commencing the 15th day of January, 1865, to boat wood for the men
in the trenches. The detail for Ransom's brigade, composed of six men from
each of the five regiments, commanded by Lieut. A. C. Sharpe, of
Forty-ninth Regiment. Those from my regiment, Fifty-sixth North Carolina,
were Company B, .... McMillan; Company D, .... Parker; Company F, J. C.
Elliott (this writer); Company G, Wm. A. Condrey; Company I, Thomas
Robbins; Company K, Calvin Deweese. We went back to the canal, which ran
seven miles up the river, then two miles in the river up into another
two-mile canal, and then into the river again. One mile above the basin or
boat landing at Petersburg there were several locks through which boats
were raised and lowered, and just below the locks there was a small creek,
which ran through a stone culvert under the canal. General Lee had built a
high dirt dam across that creek and backed the water on the Yankees and
drowned out a part of their lines and forced them back. Besides, this big
pond protected our position in that quarter. While we were waiting a few
days to get our boats ready, this big dam broke loose and the water came
in a solid wall about forty feet high, and striking the canal culvert
swept it away, and also cleaned out the south side railroad bridge just
below. Then the canal had to cross this creek on a wooden trestle, and
while it was being built we had to haul wood at night on railroad from
towards Richmond. The enemy had a battery on the Chesterfield side that
shelled any trains that moved on that road in daylight. When we first went
back to work it was several days before we were furnished with cloth
tents, and during that time we had to look out for such quarters as we
could find. So our fifty-six contingent prospected an old wood wagon shop,
near by our brigade wagon yard. We found this old shop occupied by an old,
dilapidated darkey--Uncle Tom--who was supporting himself by cobbling
cooperage. After a survey of these premises we informed Uncle Tom that we
had decided there was plenty of room for him and us, and we proposed to
move in with him at once. While Uncle Tom did not seem at all flattered
with our company, he did not openly protest, probably thinking it useless
to do so. He said he could make out with one side if we could with the
other side, with a common fire between on the ground, while there was a
raised floor on each side. We also learned Uncle Tom had another lodger in
the person of a young Georgia cracker who professed to belong to a pontoon
corps. Uncle Tom had the appearance of being well raised--one of the
old-time colored gem-en, who had but little patience for po' white folks
and especially soldiers of uncertain reputations. It was a cold,
mid-January night when Uncle Tom got down his heavy comforts and made his
bed. He had more cover than all of us, and a couple of us insisted that we
sleep with him. But Uncle Tom drew the color line on us and objected most
emphatically to any such close relations. He said he was used to sleeping
by himself and could rest better, besides, he was afraid of dem ar
buggers. He was very careful about letting his bedding come in contact
with our blankets. We were kind to Uncle Tom, and he soon became
reconciled and quite sociable. While here one day our Georgia cracker
shouldered his gun and made a foray several miles up the south side of
railroad in quest of pork or anything else to eat. He returned that
evening with about a bushel of corn. He said he found some cars loaded
with corn on a side-track and had broken in and helped himself. He said,
"As I come along up yonder I met General Lee. I saluted him as politely as
I could, but he looked at me powerful hard, and I thought he was going to
ask me where I got that corn, but he didn't. He was going out to where his
big dam had broken loose, and was near where the canal was washed out. I
stopped and watched him pass there, and he never looked out that way at
all. I don't believe General Lee cares a damn about his big dam breaking
and washing out the canal and railroad." There were a few fat hens that
ranged in our wagon yard. The next evening our cracker took a handful of
his corn and passed innocent-like near a large, gentle hen, and dropping a
few grains on into our shop quarters, the hen, following, was soon inside
and the door was closed; and that hen failed to return home to roost.
Uncle Tom was out at the time and never knew where that chicken came from.
The next morning, when Uncle Tom was shown how thick the grease was on the
pot, he said, "That sho' is a fat chicken." Then we told him if he had
joined our mess and let us sleep with him he would have had a share in the
chicken pot. He said he never did care a great deal about chicken any way.
A few days later we got a good, new cloth tent and moved out and left
Uncle Tom and his Georgia cracker alone. After the canal was mended, and
we were running our boats, our cracker friend proposed to go up the river
with us to forage for turnips; said if we would give him transportation he
would divide the "catch" with us. After reaching the woodpile and while we
were loading he reconnoitered the neighborhood and said he had located a
healthy looking turnip patch; it was pretty close to the house, but
thought he could raid it all right after dark. After supper the old man
Baldwin, of the Twenty-fifth North Carolina, a rough-looking old
mountaineer, who looked like he might have had experience in such raids in
time of peace, said he would go with him, and they cheerfully set off.
After they had been gone about an hour old man Baldwin came pulling in,
puffing and blowing, and said "they put the dogs after us and shot at us.
I didn't git but a handful and I dropped them as I got over the fence."
Soon our cracker came in, looking like he was suffering a great
bereavement, and when we laughed, he said, "I didn't think they would be
so d----d particular about a few turnips this far out in the country." So
we were all disappointed about our turnip soup. It would have been so nice
with a few peppers. The navigation of the river was dangerous during high
water. One night, while we were up in the second canal, the river rose
several feet and was booming as we came out into it, and the strong
current carried our boat against a drift on a small overflowed island, and
came near sinking or capsizing it. Then the only way we could get off was
down over a rough, shoaly slough, where she went like a bucking broncho.
The next boat after us was manned by Alabamians, and they went over the
lower rock dam that turned the water into the canal; being good swimmers,
they got out, but lost their boat.
The 15th of March our Brigade was relieved from its position between the
Appomattox River and the Norfolk railroad, where it had stayed
continuously for nearly nine months, and moved about ten miles to the
right on Hatch's Run. We came back to Petersburg and were in battle of
Fort Steadman, in front of our old position, a sketch of which has been
given.
INCIDENTS ON THE LINES.
The Yankees always showed a disposition to be friendly and wanted to talk
to us, but our officers would not allow us to talk much, but had us to
keep up a sharpshooters' fire on them all the while. However, we would
occasionally exchange a few compliments. We used to inquire if they had
any more Negroes they wanted buried; if they did, to blow out another hole
and send them over and we would cover them up. One night, in front of the
Twenty-fifth North Carolina Regiment, they changed their line, moving a
section back a little. We inquired what they meant, and if they had an
idea of leaving us. They replied, no, they expected to be neighbors for
some time yet, but that the Twenty-fifth North Carolina was a little too
close and was stealing their rations. The Twenty-fifth was a mountain
regiment, every company west of the Blue Ridge, and was known in the
brigade as the old roguish Twenty-fifth. It had a good fighting record.
One morning a large hawk came flying along between the lines. Both sides
opened fire on it, and it became bewildered and lit on top of a tall
poplar on City Point road, midway between the lines, and was soon shot
out, both sides cheering and claiming it.
On March 25, after repelling a number of courageous assaults, our right
falling back and being near a fort on our left, and assaulting columns
pressing our front, we ceased firing to surrender. Our captors came up
with flashing eyes and the loveliest smiles on their countenances and
shook hands with us in the most enthusiastic manner. I could comprehend
how good they felt when we ceased firing on them and they saw that they
had gained a great victory. But as I passed through that fort, in and
around where the dead of both sides lay thick, and saw a lot of
freckle-faced Michigan boys vigorously firing on our men who were running
back trying to get out, I felt like I wanted my gun again. Then, as we
were carried to the rear, the bullets from our side came singing over us
and knocking up dust in the road, our guard said, "Run, Johnnie, run! Run,
Johnnie, run!" Our interest being the same, we were soon out of range.
REMINISCENCES OF POINT LOOKOUT PRISON.
When we got there, the 27th of March, 1865, Negro troops guarded the
outside walls and white men patrolled inside after night, and I saw
nothing to criticise in the prison management; but those who had spent the
winter there told some horrible and ludicrous stories of outrageous
treatment by the Negro guard which, for awhile, guarded both outside and
inside. A Negro guard would hear some one say, "Lay over or let me have
some more cover." If the Negro guard heard it he would say, "Who dat
talking in dar. Send him out here quick or I'll make you all come out."
Then, after double-quicking him around and making him mark time with his
bare feet on the snow for a while, he would say, "Now pray for Abraham
Lincoln. Now cuss Jeff. Davis. Now pray that some colored gemmen may marry
your sister--den I let you go back." Some of these men said they could
never die satisfied after they got out until they killed some Negroes on
general principles.
A NEGRO SERGEANT WHO CLAIMED HE CARRIED WHITE LADIES' HAIR.
When I went out one day on a work detail I carried out to sell a watch
chain made of the hair from a horse's tail or mane, and showed it to a
Negro sergeant, who seemed to greatly admire its artistic beauty and
inquired if the man who made it could make one of a lady's hair--that he
wished to have one made from a lock of his sweetheart's hair that he
possessed. I said I did not know; probably it would be too fine--when he
answered, "It's no nigger wool; it's white lady har; my girl am a white
lady." I answered, I don't know whether he can work it or not.
BEGGING CRUMBS FROM A NEGRO'S TABLE.
One morning as I went out with the stable detail, as we were passing a
Negro house, a six-year-old boy came to the door with a plate full of
crumbs and crusts to throw out, when we asked him to give it to us. He
gleefully held it out, while we rushed for it like hungry hogs. I got a
handful. Then I thought; then I hesitated--subjugated, humiliated and
degraded to begging the crumbs from a Negro's table. Then all the proud
English, Irish and German blood in my veins rose up in protest, and I
dashed it to the ground, though I was hungry enough to have licked all the
plates in a whole Negro quarter.
TWO PATRIOTIC SOLDIERS AND ONE WHO WAS OUT FOR THE BOUNTY.
One day while working at the quarters of a German artillery company,
located on the isthmus next the Potomac side, an American Yankee soldier
came around and raised a friendly conversation about the war issues and
boasted about how he had fought for the Union and how much longer he would
fight. A Louisianian made issue with him and showed all the enthusiastic
patriotism for the South. When they had exhausted their patriotic
vocabularies the Yankee passed on, our German guard, a young, good-natured
fellow, remarked to me, "I bees no war man; I does not want to fight."
Then I inquired how he came to be in the army, and he replied, "Oh, I bees
a poor man; I has no money; they gives me three hundred dollars bounty,
and I bees soldier." Then he remarked, "Our company all voted for
McClellan; Lincoln loves the Nigger too much."
ON THE WHARF DETAIL AND WANTING TO STEAL SOMETHING FROM UNCLE SAM'S
PLENTIFUL STORES.
Several of us were in the big commissary prying around to get into the
bean and potato barrels, when a wagon drove up and a Negro commanded us,
saying, "Four you men go upstairs and bring down some cracker boxes and
load dis wagon." I got in the push and, as soon as we reached the cracker
boxes we give a box a fling from the top of the pack and bursted it, when
we all began eating like hogs. In a minute here came the Negro. "What
you-ens doin' dar? Dems our rations youse eatin'." "A box fell and
bursted, and we are gathering them up as fast as we can." "Well, dat's all
right, but don't you-ens eat no mo'." "Can't we have these scraps." "Yes,
you may; you may have dem scraps." We already had our pockets stuffed.
At another time, working around the commissary, I filled my pockets with
beans and potatoes. These were the only full messes I got while in prison.
The largest detail was known as the Fort detail, building and sodding a
fort on the Potomac side. About three hundred men were worked on it. They
got about three square inches or five cents worth of plug tobacco and a
little drink of whiskey per day. The other details only give one pound of
salt pork and a pint of vinegar for ten days' work. Working ten days for a
pound of pork was rather low wages, but most of us were glad to get such
an opportunity to get out. If we could pick up as much as the staves of a
flour barrel we could sell it for ten or fifteen cents inside of prison,
and a little money went a long way. Mackerel sold at five cents per pound,
and a pound and a half loaf of bread for ten cents. The cheapest tobacco
sold at one dollar per pound, and the men suffered as much for tobacco as
for bread. The most of the users of tobacco would swap a piece of bread
for a chew of tobacco. Tobacco retailed mostly by the chew. Tobacco was
the most common medium of exchange. All of the smaller gambling concerns
used pieces of tobacco cut up in chews, the larger cuts passing for five
or ten chews. Rev. Morgan, the Confederate agent, conducted a school,
which I attended some. Several preachers came in and preached to us, and
the Catholic priests visited us occasionally, besides our local preachers
held open air exercises frequently. The death of President Lincoln
probably delayed our release. After the Confederacy went down we were
aliens without government or protection in our native land. The
proposition to take the oath of allegiance with full rights of citizenship
under the old flag of our fathers seemed as good as we could expect, and
we were soon anxious to do so and return home. About the 6th of June they
began to discharge us. On the 11th of June the following was posted on the
bulletin board: "All men whose homes are in Virginia and North Carolina
who wish to return via Richmond, whose names begin with D and E, will be
discharged upon taking the oath of allegiance to the United States on
to-morrow--12th June." So, before sunrise, I was on the front line of the
penitents and on my knees awaiting for the blessing of being transformed
from a rebel of the deepest dye into the marvelous light and liberty of a
free, full-fledged, loyal American citizen--with all the privileges of a
free "Nigger." As one of the colored soldiers had told me a few days
before. He said, "De'l turn you out some dese days--den you'll be just as
free as we is--and we is just as free as the birds." The stars and stripes
were stretched under the overhead ceiling of the school house; thirty-two
of us stood under the flag that I had fired a thousand shots at, and,
without mental reservation, took the oath and subscribed to the same in
the records. I was marked, Occupation, Planter (that sounded bigger than
farmer); age, 19; eyes, blue; hair, auburn; complexion, fair; height, 6
feet 3-3/4 inches. I weighed 170 pounds when I went there, and got away
with 145 pounds. We missed that day's ration and they gave us six
hardtacks and a half pound of cod fish, which I eat at once. We (three
hundred of us) arrived at Richmond after dark on the 13th of June. It was
raining and we all held together and were instructed to report to the
Provost office at capitol. As we marched the streets the ladies would
remark, "Oh! look, there is our men; I am so glad to see them. Poor
fellows, they are just out of prison." The officer of the guard at the
capitol informed us that no provision had been made for us, and advised us
to go to the New Market for shelter and to report back at 9 a. m. Here we
were furnished transportation--"free cars." This we took to the commissary
and got rations. When we got to Richmond I had not eaten anything for more
than thirty hours. A store keeper that night gave me two loaves of bread
and some small fishes, dried herring, which was divided with my comrades,
Virgil Elliott and Felix Dobbins. When Richmond was evacuated the people
were destitute and most of them on the verge of starvation. So now the
United States Government had nearly all of them to feed, white and black.
When we went to get our rations two men drew together. I told my comrade
to get our meat and I would get our bread. Avery, a consequential mulatto
gentleman, waited on me, and when he weighed up my crackers, I said, "Meat
for two men, please," and he throwed it up quick and pushed it to me. So I
got a double ration of meat.
We crossed the James River on a pontoon bridge over to Manchester--all the
bridges having been burned. Here we found many new freight cars marked U.
S. M. R. R. We took up quarters in them to wait until 8 a. m. next day.
That night a big rain broke down the road and we had to lay over another
day. So I told Felix that I guessed more prisoners came in last night; let
us go over and draw rations with them again, and he said all right. And we
went over and drew another supply. I had now drawn eighteen pounds of salt
pork to do me home. We sold the last draw to an Irish woman who kept a
little shop, and we indulged in a quart of molasses. The people of
Richmond were as clever and sympathetic with us as during the war. One
storekeeper invited us to come in and help ourselves on sweet crackers
(ginger snaps). The good lady that cooked our meat in Manchester sent with
it a plate of nice, hot biscuits. We left Richmond June 16th, but our
train could not cross the Appomattox River. The high water had careened
the new trestle bridge. We walked over and on to another station, and a
train from Burkville came after us. We stayed at Burkville until dark, and
when we were ordered to board some box-cars, I found the door full, and
they said not another could get in. I fought my way in and found those in
the door all there were in it. So I hunted up my comrades, Elliott and
Dobbins, and brought them in, as a thunder storm was coming up. These men
who tried to keep us out were hospital rats. They were clean and did not
want to mix with us lousy, dirty prisoners. After we got in they let no
others in, while many had to ride on top in an all-night rain storm.
Thousands of Federal troops occupied Greensboro and Charlotte. They were
all quite friendly and congratulated us on the close of the war. I said,
"Well, you've freed the Negroes; now what are you going to do with them."
They said, "Oh d----n the Niggers. I say kill 'em; they have been the cause
of all this trouble." We had to walk home from Charlotte, sixty miles, and
got home June 20th, very thankful that I was so fortunate to come back
sound and well, while so many of my comrades had fallen by the wayside or
were broken and maimed for life.
THE INVASION OF HOME LAND AFTER LEE'S SURRENDER.
Our section was never visited by an hostile army until some regiments of
General Stoneman's cavalry passed from Rutherfordton to Lincolnton and
back. They marauded the country in quest of horses and provisions. They
scattered away from the main road and two came to my father's home. One
held the horses and the other came in the house and said he wanted to
search the house for arms, and soon went through bureaus, chests, etc. My
mother's big, red chest had a double till in it with $10,000 of
Confederate bonds and money in the lower till. The chest was full of bed
clothes, and he felt under them, but did not find the Confederate money.
Finding no valuables, the only thing he took from the house was the flint
out of an old squirrel rifle.
A FAITHFUL NEGRO SERVANT.
All our good Negroes were true and faithful in helping to hide horses and
other valuable property, but some mean Negroes would tell them where
things were hidden, etc. My aunt, Mrs. Cabaniss, lived on the public road,
and as Stoneman's men passed down they took a good mare out of the plow
and carried it away. She only had two horses--the other was a blind mare.
A week later they returned, going back towards Rutherfordton, followed by
a drove of Negroes on foot. As they were passing Mrs. Cabaniss' a Negro
saw her blind mare in the lot, bridled and rode it away. Her faithful old
colored servant, Edmond, saw the Negro riding the blind mare away, ran
after them, appealing to the officers that they had taken the last horse
and we will all perish. The officer told him to get his mare. He then
procured a heavy stick and ran up beside the Negro and knocked him off,
the troopers laughing and cheering him. He rode the blind mare back, and
saved one horse to plow. Edmond remained faithful and stayed with his old
miss as long as she lived, and he retained the confidence and good will of
all the white people as long as he lived.
While Stoneman's troopers were raiding our section some of them called on
Richard Smith, of Rutherford County, a good farmer and a good liver. He
had a lot of nice bacon hams, and, expecting the raiders, he buried his
hams in the house yard, fixed it up like a fresh grave and put up a
headboard, marked Daniel. The troopers came, ransacked the premises and
inquired about that grave in the yard. Smith told them that a faithful old
servant had died a few days before, and his last request was to be buried
in the yard, and, loving him so well, had complied. This explanation
seemed to satisfy them, and they were about to leave, when one became
skeptical and said, "Hold on boys, I think I would like to see Daniel
before we go;" and, procuring a shovel, set in to raise him. Soon the dirt
was cleaned off the box, then a plank was raised. He remarked, "Daniel
looks natural; seems like I've seen him before somewhere. Well, boys, I
guess we will take Daniel with us. Come out of here, Daniel, your country
needs your services," and so they lifted him out.
WOULD NOT LET THEM TAKE ALL THE MEAT THE MAN HAD.
Amos Harrell, a good liver of the same county, tells how he saved his
bacon. He hid it all out but three pieces. When the troopers came and
raided his smoke-house an officer, looking in, ordered them out, saying,
"You shall not take all the man's meat; leave him one piece." He locked
the door and put the key in his pocket and carried it away.
CONFEDERATE TROOPERS COMMIT OUTRAGES, PLUNDER AND MURDER.
Joseph Biggerstaff, of Rutherford County, a farmer and country merchant,
was visited by six Confederate troopers, who claimed to be Wheeler's men,
on their way home. They demanded his money and, searching his house, found
about $600 in specie. Four of them in the house put the money on a table
to count it, while two men held the horses. Biggerstaff said he would die
before they should take his money, but they paid no attention to him, when
he attacked them with an axe, killing two and had the third one down when
the fourth one at the table shot and killed him. There was present a man
by the name of Waters, a neighbor, who had stood by and took no part. One
of the robbers then upbraided Waters as a coward who ought to be killed,
shot and killed Waters. Gathering up all the money, they left the four
dead men where they had fallen, and rode away. This was the climax of the
four years' bloody drama for our section. This last tragedy occurred near
where a number of Tories were executed at Biggerstaff's old field, who had
been taken at the battle of King's Mountain during the Revolutionary War.
(See "Draper's History of King's Mountain and its Heroes.")
A HEARTY CONSCRIPT.
John Buncombe Crowder entered the army in 1863 as a 38-year-old conscript,
and as a good family man had proved successful; but it was hardly expected
that a man of his age should enter enthusiastically into the strenuous
life of a soldier in times of great stress. However, John was inclined to
hold up his end and made a faithful record. But the long, cold winter of
1865 in the trenches in front of Petersburg tired out his patience and he
got powerful hungry. He stood six feet three inches and his fighting
weight was 205 pounds. When we surrendered together, on the 25th of March,
1865, in front of Petersburg, Buncombe thought it good policy to make
friends with his captors, in the hope of getting more and better rations;
so he said, "Yes, I've quit fighting you. I've been wanting to quit for
some time, and I shore am glad you've got me, for I am nearly starved to
death." Loss Bridges, the little man with the hot-gun, said, "He's lying
to you, and at the same time showing a chunk of cornbread." The Yankees
said, "All right, Johnnie, you've got where there's plenty now, and you
shall have plenty to eat." B.: "Now I believe that I just know you'll
treat me right." Y.: "Ah, Johnnie, bet your life we will." B.: "I've
always thought you were clever fellows, and now I know it. I never did
want to fight you nohow." Y.: "Bully for you, Johnnie; you shall be taken
good care of." The men on the firing line who captured him would have done
what they said; but prisoners are soon turned over to the bomb-proof
brigade--coffee coolers and grafters--the kind of men who would get rich
keeping the county poor-house. John Buncombe made a hard effort to get to
the flesh pots and coffee cans of Yankeedom, but failed. He went up to
Washington with the deserter volunteers, and was sent back to Point
Lookout to starve with the rest of us. After he had been in a few days we
asked him how he liked the fare, and he replied, "Very well; I don't have
anything to do, and it don't take much to do me." A few days more and he
got so hungry he could hold his peace no longer and began to abuse the
Yankees as the greatest liars and the meanest people in all the world, and
he just wished he had held on to his gun and killed a few more of them
anyhow. He had offered to go North and work for something to eat, and they
would not let him, and were just holding to starve him to death for pure
meanness. He said when he was at home it took a good-sized hen to make
him a meal, and now we get nothing scarcely but bread, and he could eat
four days' rations--two loaves or three pounds at one meal. So he raged
and lectured as a champion eater until two men who had a little money got
up a fifty-cent bet on him. He was to eat two loaves, or three pounds of
bread, in thirty minutes. A crowd gathered and much interest was
manifested in the contest, and the eating began. In the excitement he took
too much water. In ten minutes the first loaf disappeared and three
canteens, or nine pints of water, with it. Then he said he did not have
quite enough, but did not feel like he could eat all of the other loaf, so
they need not cut it; that his stomach had shrunk up until he could not
eat as much as he thought he could. After that he could no longer command
a hearing, as his record as a champion eater was all he had to stand on.
He is now--1907--living happily with his third wife and has plenty to eat,
but says his appetite is not quite as good as it used to be.
SCENES AT APPOMATTOX--STRAGGLERS IN THE UNION ARMY.
Dr. Thomas L. Carson, my mother's youngest brother, who was in the
Thirty-fourth North Carolina Regiment, Scale's Brigade, tells the
following:
"We had stacked our muskets in surrender in the open beside the road,
awaiting our paroles, when a large column of Federal troops passed us in
steady, quiet tramp, followed by the rear guard bringing up about 2,000
stragglers. These stragglers wore a conglomeration of every trashy type to
be found in the Yankee army. Foreigners of every tongue, mixed with every
American type--old gray-headed men, beardless boys, big, greasy Negroes,
etc., etc., all with battered and tattered clothing, some bareheaded and
barefooted, and many without coats; some only had one pant leg on--all
under a strong guard of peart-proud soldiers marching beside them with
fixed bayonets. As they came along one big, stout fellow exclaimed, "Oh,
yes, Johnnies; we've got you at last." A proud, peart-looking guard said,
"Shut your mouth, you cowardly devil, or I'll pop my bayonet in you. You
want to crow over these men. If many of our men had been like you, General
Lee might now have had his headquarters in Boston instead of this
surrender."
Dr. Carson says, as they started home, a young officer from Ohio walked
along with him for half a mile and, talking of the situation, said: "It
looks very hard to start you men home without rations, but we are on short
allowance ourselves, on account of your General Hampton, who cut down and
destroyed eleven miles of our supply train a few days ago, or we would
have had plenty to feed you on."
Once upon a time when the mulatto, Fred. Douglass, was orating, two
Irishmen passing by stopped and listened a few minutes, then started on.
One remarked, "He spaiks right well for a Nagur." The other, "Oh, he's no
Nagur; he is only a half Nagur." "Oh, well then, if a half Nagur can talk
that way, then I guess a whole Nagur could beat the prophit Jeremiah."
Once upon a time when North Carolina's last Afro-American
Congressman--George White--was State Solicitor, a young Negro was on trial
for some misdemeanor, and a white man was called upon to prove the
defendant's character.
Solicitor: "Do you know this man?" Witness: "Yes, sir." "How long have you
known him?" "Oh, ever since he was a small boy." "Well, sir; what is his
character?" "His character is good; good as any Niggers." "Maybe you don't
think a Negro has any character." "Oh, I didn't say that." "Now, sir; I
ask you a direct question: Do you believe a Negro has got a character?"
"Oh, yes; he has a Nigger's character."
The Solicitor gritted his teeth and told the witness he could retire.
A PATRIOTIC DARKEY.
While working outside on a detail at Point Lookout, a young colored
soldier, filled with patriotic enthusiasm, called on us and remarked:
"Hadn't been for us colored troops I don't spec dese here Yankees ever
would whipped you-uns." "Did the colored troops fight much?" "Well, not
'zactly fitin'; but we do de gard duty so all de white soldiers could
fight you, and den it seems like dey had all they could do."
AN AGGRIEVED UNION SOLDIER SEEKS SYMPATHY FROM HIS SOUTHERN PEOPLE.
About the same time and place a young mulatto called on us and began to
berate his comrades. He said, "Dese old, black Pennsylvania Niggers ain't
got no sense nohow. Dey jest as mean as dey can be." I said, "Ain't you a
Pennsylvanian?" "No, sir; I'se a Southerner, I is. I is a Virginian and
I'se no kin to dem old, black Pennsylvania Niggers; but I'se some kin to
you Southerners." We told him we were sorry he had got into such bad
company. He said, "Yes, Southern folks heap the best."
A Southern railroad conductor said, "My Afro-American friend, you are in
the wrong car; you must get in with your own color." "Well, Cap'n, if you
say so, reckon I'll have to move; but what you goin' to do when we all
gits to heaven?" "Well, if I am conductor, you will move. Get along now."
A man traveling to West Virginia, where they have free cars, said as soon
as they got out of Virginia, at the first stop, it was amusing to see the
darkies vacate their cars and come piling into the white's coaches, thus
showing how aggressive they are for social equality.
FIELD OFFICERS OF FIFTY-SIXTH REGIMENT NORTH CAROLINA TROOPS.
The field officers were all young, fine-looking men. Col. Paul F. Faison
was tall, dark eyes, of the finest type of soldier, and we understood a
West Point cadet. Lieut.-Col. Luke was about thirty years old, stout,
medium size, sanguine temperament. Maj. John W. Graham, the son of an
illustrious father, who served his State as Governor and United States
Senator, William A. Graham. Major Graham, promoted from Captain of
Company D, was quite young, stout and hardy, always at his post except
when disabled by wounds--full of youth and enthusiasm, he always proved
himself the bravest of the brave. He is a prominent lawyer in his native
town, Hillsboro. He has served as Secretary of State and as State Senator,
and is one of the most prominent members of that body at session 1907.
Maj. H. F. Schenck, who preceded Maj. Graham by one year's service,
resigned on account of failure of health, and was assigned to service in
the commissary department. Major Schenck is an affable gentleman of the
highest type of citizen, a most useful and successful business man of his
county, Cleveland. He is the promoter and manager of several cotton mills
and a branch railroad. His chief partner is a Mr. Reynolds, of
Philadelphia, Pa. Colonel Faison served in the Interior Department of the
United States as Indian Agent under President Cleveland's last
administration. He died while in that service in Oklahoma Territory. Capt.
Losson Harrell, M.D., of Company I, from Rutherford County, was Senior
Captain and commanded the Fifty-sixth Regiment a part of the time during
the siege of Petersburg. He has been for several years a member of the
State Board of Health. Both Harrell and Schenck have also served as State
legislators, and both are fine types of physical manhood.
All the captains were fine looking men, but we mention especially Captain
Mills, of Company G, Henderson County, and Captain Alexander, Company K,
Mecklenburg County--young, tall, and bravest of the brave. During the last
week in May, 1864, in the breastworks at Bermuda Hundreds, on the morning
that we took Gen. B. F. Butler's picket line and our dead and wounded were
brought back, Capt. Alexander was standing in the midst of our company
talking to our Captain Grigg, one of our young men, Thomas Nowlin, a
gallant soldier and a cousin of mine, was seized with an epileptic fit,
when Captain Alexander was the first to his assistance, and, kneeling
over him, did everything he could for him. If he had been one of his own
men or even a brother he could not have shown more sympathetic interest.
This greatly impressed me as to the real character of the man, and
verified the adage, "the bravest are the tenderest." I was greatly hurt a
few weeks later when this noble young officer fell in battle. I think
about the 20th of August, on the Weldon railroad. He was of the sanguine
temperament of the Scotch-Irish type.
Our Captain, B. F. Grigg, had a wife and baby that he thought more of than
of the Confederacy after hope of success was on the wane. He held out
faithful to the end, but was so glad when the cruel war was over that he
turned Republican and was for many years postmaster at Lincolnton and a
successful merchant. He went in early--joined First Regiment of six
months' volunteers--and was in first battle at Bethel, Va.; but he got
enough by and by, and wanted to quit.
Brigadier-General Matt. W. Ransom, our Brigade Commander, is too well
known to the people of this country to require an extended introduction by
me, he having served twenty-four years in the United States Senate and
four years as Minister to Mexico. All who have known him recognize in him
the highest type of the old-time Southern Christian gentleman. As an
officer he held the deserved love and highest respect of all his men. He
was scholarly, gentle, sympathetic, and a most pleasant and entertaining
orator. He would go anywhere in the State to address his old soldiers,
always giving them the most patriotic advice. He was an enthusiastic
optimist on the great resources and possibilities of our great united
country. The last time he addressed the Confederate Veterans of Shelby,
N. C., about two years before he died, money was raised and tendered him
to pay his expenses, when he said, "No! no! I can not take the boys'
money; I don't need it, and if I did I could not take it."
Among the younger officers none excelled General Hoke, of Lincolnton,
N. C. He entered the army as a company officer at less than twenty-four
years of age. He was soon Colonel of the Twenty-first North Carolina
Regiment, then Brigadier-General. He had not handled a brigade long until
General Lee witnessed one of his gallant and most successful assaults and
rode out of his way to compliment him personally, and there is no doubt,
as the sequel will show, but that General Lee ever after held him in his
highest confidence. He was with Stonewall Jackson in all his most
brilliant campaigns. After his gallant brigade had been worn to a frazzle
following Gettysburg, he was sent back to North Carolina to rest and
recruit. After a few months of comparative rest, he boarded a train at
Weldon, N. C., and went to Richmond to President Davis and presented a
campaign for Eastern North Carolina, upon the completion of the gun-boat,
_Albemarle_, nearing completion at Halifax, N. C., stating that he thought
with two brigades beside his own that he could take Plymouth, Washington
and New Bern, N. C., and thus clear his State of all its invaders.
President Davis heard him patiently and then said he was glad to hear some
one who still thought something could be done, and said he would transfer
some ranking officers and give him the forces suggested. This writer got
these facts from his uncle, Gen. John F. Hoke. General Pickett had made an
expedition against New Bern February 1, 1864, with six brigades, and could
easily have taken it had not some of his plans miscarried. An account of
General Hoke's taking Plymouth and Washington and his service at Drury's
Bluff and at Cold Harbor are given in a former chapter. General Hoke was
sent back to North Carolina and commanded at Wilmington, N. C., finally
surrendering with General Johnson. General Hoke is very modest about
exploiting his brilliant military career; but we have it on the authority
of the _Charlotte Observer_ that during the last months of the war General
Lee became apprehensive that his health might give way at any time, and
looking over the whole field, selected General Hoke to take his place as
his successor, and had such an understanding with President Davis and
General Hoke. At the beginning of the Spanish-American War, we heard that
President McKinley offered General Hoke a Brigadiership, and he modestly
declined it. The writer met General Hoke twenty-five years after the war,
and upon complimenting his brilliant campaigns, as an actor and
eye-witness, he said, "Yes, when I had to fight them I tried to go at it
so as to make them think I was not afraid of them." He said he was not
quite twenty-eight years old when the war closed. General Hoke is an uncle
to Governor Hoke Smith, of Georgia. Besides being with General Hoke in his
Eastern North Carolina and Drury's Bluff campaigns, I got most of my
information from Capt. L. E. Powers, now of Rutherfordton, N. C., who
served with General Hoke first in the Twenty-first North Carolina Regiment
and then in his brigade, and under him through four years. Captain Powers
has represented his county three terms in the Legislature. He says he has
been under fire with General Hoke in about forty engagements and was
wounded several times.
A TRUE VIRGINIA BOY AND A BIT OF ROMANCE.
While this writer was located on the canal, boating wood for the men in
the trenches at Petersburg, winter of 1865, he became acquainted with a
widow lady, Mrs. Dean, and family of three children; a grown daughter,
Miss Jennie, and a younger daughter, Miss Lucy, aged about twelve, and a
little son, aged about ten years. They occupied a neat cottage near his
quarters. They were a nice, intelligent family, then in deep mourning for
a son and brother, the hope and mainstay of the family, who had fallen in
battle a few months before. Young Dean had proved so good a soldier and
had so distinguished himself for personal bravery from all the battles
through the Wilderness on down to Petersburg, that his officers had given
him a sixty day furlough to stay with his mother. When he had been at home
a few weeks, keeping in touch with his regiment, which was on the lines of
defense near by, in August, when the Federals seized the Weldon Railroad
and a desperate battle was expected, he kissed his mother and sisters and
hastened to join his regiment, and went into battle that day and shed his
life's blood that day in defense of his native city, his home and loved
ones, proving himself one of the greatest heroes in Lee's invincible army
of battle-scarred veterans. What nobler deed! What greater sacrifice can
any people show? Our relations with this good family became reciprocal.
They would do some cooking for us, and we would bring them some wood. I
guessed Miss Jennie was about my age, nineteen, medium in size, blue eyes,
dark hair, most lovely form and features, of an honest, sincere
expression. For all that is good and lovely in woman, she filled my ideal;
but pleasant associations are soon broken in war, and I was ordered to
report to my regiment. I had a supply of rations from home and Miss Jennie
made me some cakes of sorghum molasses, and we parted, hoping to meet
again soon and to correspond sure. My command moved ten miles to the right
on Hatches' Run for ten days; then back past Miss Jennie's home in the
night, and on into the battle in front of Petersburg on the 25th of March.
Here I threw up the "sponge" and went to Point Lookout and stayed there
until the 12th June; then came back by Richmond, and on home. We had no
mails for a year after the war, before I wrote Miss Jennie that I had got
through in good shape. Then she wrote me a nice letter, informing me that
she had married a young Confederate soldier--a Mr. Jones--and giving a
cordial invitation to visit them if I ever came to Petersburg. Well, as
time pulled on, I, too, was married in 1872, and was as happy as any one
could be. Forty years after parting with Miss Jennie I concluded to visit
Petersburg and the old battlefields. I was now a grandpap and a widower,
and I thought of my old friend, Mrs. Jones, and I wondered what had
become of them. If she and her husband were living, I would certainly give
them a call. Then, if I should find her a widow, there might be a little
bit of new romance started in the Old Dominion. I could think of her only
as the lovely girl of nineteen; but I had to reflect that she, too, might
now be a withered grandmother. I went on the Seaboard Road and landed
right in our old wagon yard. The beautiful oak grove was all gone, streets
and hundreds of houses covered our old stamping ground. I soon located the
old canal, like unto a sunken road, and could recognize only the old brick
mill house at the lower end of the canal basin or boat landing. Seeing
some old veterans around I inquired if they knew Mrs. Dean, and they said
they did, and Jennie too. That she married Ned Jones; that Jones had been
dead a couple of years. Then I enquired, "How is Mrs. Jones?" "She is an
invalid--not able to get out. A son and a daughter live with her." "What
sort of a man was Jones?" "He was a good man, a local preacher. She lives
second block--third house on the right." Starting out to see my poor
invalid lady friend, I stepped in where beer was sold and got a glass. I
then interrogated the proprietor, Mr. Quarles. He said he was raised
there, was about sixteen at close of the war; had served with the old men
and boys; had stood in the breastworks and helped repel several attacks
upon Petersburg. Yes, he knew Mrs. Dean and her family well. Then he told
the pathetic story of the death of young Dean, and said he came very near
going with him into that battle. That Miss Jennie married Lewellyn Jones,
a brother of Ned Jones; that they moved to Crews, Va. Then I learned from
him and others that Miss Jennie had been dead thirty years, leaving no
children, and her husband had remarried and had a family of grown
children; and that Miss Jennie's little brother lived in the city, the
last of the family living. Then I took a street car for the Crater, where
I had labored and fought forty years before, and after taking in the
museum of war relics, went out where I had thrown some lead, and in an oat
stubble picked up some battered bullets. A pine tree large enough for a
saw log is growing in the bottom of the Crater, since the 1,500 skeletons
had been removed to national cemeteries.
COL. BILLY MILLER'S UPRIGHT FARM IN THE UPRIGHT REGIONS OF CLEVELAND
COUNTY, AND HOW HE CAME TO OWN IT, WITH SKETCHES OF THE COUNTY AND SOME OF
ITS PEOPLE.
This famous county, the place of my nativity as well as that of many
others of more or less national and local prominence, such as Thomas
Dixon, Jr., of the Clansman fame; Hon. E. Yates Webb, Congressman Ninth
District; Col. A. M. Lattimore, of Lattimore; Capt. O. D. Price, the
old-time singer; Capt. Pink Petty, the famous fox-hunter with the
silver-mounted horn; Capt. Nim Champion, the standing candidate for the
Legislature on the one-plank platform--the restoration of the
whipping-post. Then we have Frank Barrett, the old soldier candidate, who
always runs on just any platform the people want, and who distinguished
himself during the Civil War by going up in a balloon over the enemy for a
pint of whiskey, with many others too tedious to mention, such as bankers,
cotton mill men and shop keepers, etc. This goodly heritage lies east of
the Blue Ridge and is flanked by the South Mountains on the north, Cherry
Mountains encircling the west, with the famous little King's Mountain on
the south. One large township embraces the South Mountains.
Little First Broad River with numerous tributaries, flows from these
mountains south, making a diversified, rolling country, interspersed with
hills and sandy flats. There was a man in our company, F, in the
Confederate army from the mountain section of our good county by the name
of John Wesley Richards, a stalwart fellow of thirty, who for three years
was a brave and courageous soldier; but after lying in the bloody trenches
of Petersburg eight and one-half months, during which time he was wounded,
he became disheartened and, forsaking all rights and interest in the
Confederacy, shouldered his musket and, taking a dozen of his comrades
with him, set out to fight his way home, and were successful in reaching
home about the time General Lee surrendered, so they were not molested.
Besides the right to hold Negro slaves, there was another right dearer to
the people of upper Cleveland, viz, the right to convert their sour apples
into brandy and their corn into whiskey, infringed upon by the Yankee
government. After the surviving remnants of the Confederate army came
home, and the shirkers came in from the bushes, all of the little copper
stills started up for a joyful time, and public sentiment was so strongly
against Federal interference that they were not molested much for two or
three years. Our hero, John Wesley Richards, after his long, arduous
campaigns in the war, felt that he was entitled to a season of rest and
recreation, with plenty of refreshments thrown in to boot. So he got on a
long and continuous spree, and went to the bad, until his wife had to
divorce him and turn him out to "root hog or die." Then, after a while, he
began to rally and reform; and a grand, speculative idea striking him, he
traded his faithful squirrel dog and his old shot gun for a warrantee deed
for one hundred acres of land in the upright region of Cleveland County.
Then, as Wesley began to prosper, he found himself in need of a one-horse
wagon, called in these parts a "carryall"; and learning that J. S. Groves,
a big merchant at Shelby, kept wagons to sell for cash and on time, Wesley
wended his way to Shelby and, looking over Mr. Groves' wagons, said he
would like to have the running works of a one-horse wagon, but did not
have the cash to pay down. Mr. Groves said that was all right; if he could
give him a good paper he could have the wagon. John Wesley said he could
give him a mortgage on one hundred acres of land. Mr. Groves said that
would do. The papers were fixed up, the wagon delivered and John Wesley
went on his way home rejoicing. The next fall Mr. Groves notified him that
his note was due and they would expect him down soon to settle. A few
weeks later he wrote Wesley that if he did not come soon and make some
arrangements that he would have to advertise that land. John Wesley heeded
not these warnings, and the land was advertised; and here is where Col.
Billy Miller butted in and bought a cheap farm. Col. Billy had served in
the cavalry during the war and managed to pull through in good shape.
After engaging in several enterprises he founded a weekly newspaper called
_The Shelby Aurora_, and made a great success. So this was the paper the
land was advertised in. When the land was sold, lying twenty-five miles
from town, none of the town people knew anything of it. Colonel Billy
started it at forty cents per acre, which covered the cost of the wagon
and advertisement, and no one bettered it, and he thought he had picked up
a great bargain. Now this writer used to be somewhat connected with the
_Aurora_. When his crops were short and prices low he could always get a
job with Colonel Miller during the winter months to help out making ends
meet, collecting and drumming up new subscribers. _The Aurora_ was very
popular--good coarse print so everybody could read it--and most everybody
took it whether they could read or not. Its chief policy was to flatter
all its patrons--those who paid for it because they paid and those who did
not pay in hopes they would pay. When a man re-covered his house, built a
new stable or cleared a fresh field we called him one of our most
industrious and enterprising citizens, and when a fellow came to town to
buy a side of bacon or a sack of flour on time he was alluded to as being
on a business trip; and when nothing else good could be said of a fellow,
we would puff him on his enthusiastic and steadfast Democracy. The way to
run a county paper is to brag on all the people all the time and keep a
good list of subscribers, and the patent medicine fellows will pay the
running expense. So one winter, as I was ranging around the mountains near
Colonel Miller's farm, I met up with Blacksmith George Towry, a jovial,
good-natured man, who said, "Tell Miller to send me his paper six months
for showing those fellows his farm and trying so hard to sell it to them.
He sent two young men up here and referred them to me and I went over
there and showed it to them and bragged on it all I could. When we got to
the house I said, "You see that large white-oak on the lower side of the
yard, that is the place to have your hog pen; it will always produce
acorns enough to fatten a hog; then see that large hickory in front of the
house; it is full of squirrels every day in the fall, and while your hog
is fattening you can sit in the door and shoot a mess as you need them.
Then, if you get tired eating squirrels, just look out yonder in that old
field at the 'simmon trees. They are full of 'possoms every night, and you
can gather a mess as you need them. Then when you kill your hog and get
tired of so much greasy doings, just go up on the side of the mountain and
cut some gum logs and you can catch all the rabbits you want. Don't you
see its the easiest place to live you ever saw? Then look down there at
that spring, as pure water as ever come out of the ground; it would be
worth a thousand dollars anywhere in Texas; and the climate can't be beat
anywhere in the world--malaria, microbes and such things never bother us.
These high mountains on the north and east break off the cold winds. In
winter you can set out on a log in the sunshine all day and enjoy the
scenery; then, if you are ambitious and enterprising, you could start up a
turkey ranch right here; you have sixty thousand acres of free range,
enough to raise 10,000 turkeys, with at least fifty cents per head net
profit; that gives you $5,000 per year income on turkeys alone. I tell you
that would beat raising cotton on the sandy flats all hollow. All the
expense raising turkeys would just be to throw them a little corn to keep
them gentle. The young men looked puzzled and one said, 'And where would
we get the corn?' 'Oh,' said I, 'you could find some corn down at Jack
Morrison's mill or at Ped Price's store.' Then one says, 'And how could we
get the turkeys to market?' and I says, 'Oh, drive them out; they can fly
across these deep hollows.' He then added, 'The young men turned away
looking sorrowful, and I don't know whether they will buy or not.'"
UNCLE ABE WALLIS VISITS WASHINGTON.
A few years ago a story was current of an old darkey from Salisbury,
N. C., visiting Washington, D. C., to see the President and obtain social
recognition. We name him. Uncle Abe Wallis was an industrious,
well-behaved matter-of-fact old darkey who had accumulated the snug sum of
forty dollars, and concluded to spend it in the advancement of his social
position, and he reasoned that the shortest way to get to the top quick
would be to call on the President for recognition. So he paid $15.00 for a
ticket and boarded a flyer, and was on his way to the mecca of
Afro-American hopes, rights and social privileges, looking disdainfully
upon the common blacks as he sped by them along the way, he was soon in
the city of equal rights for all with special privileges for none. After
being relieved of two dollars for a night's lodging at a colored hotel,
bright and early he inquired the way and set out for the White House,
where he expected to take dinner and wanted his name in the pot in time.
When he had had an insight of the coveted goal and turned in that
direction, he was accosted by a harsh voice, "Whar ye goin'?" "Well, sar;
I'se on my way to visit the President." "This is not the day to see the
President." "Well, I don't care anything about your arrangements; but this
is my day to see him." "I guess not." "Captain, call the wagon and give
this man a ride." "Den, befo' I could parley any mo' about it, dey chucked
me in de wagin and went down one of dem wide roads as hard as dey could
tare and soon turned up at a 'spectable enough looking buildin'. Den dey
tell me to git out, and when I go in dey feel in my pockets and take my
money and say, 'Guess we better save dis, de bums will clean you up.' Den
dar I was with a passel of no count looking Niggers and some po' drunken
white trash--about de worst company I ever got into. Next mornin' de Jedge
call me out and ax what my name and where I live. I say my name am Abraham
Wallis and my home are Salisbury, N. C. Den he say, "What is your
business," and I tell him I am a deacon in our Baptist church. Den he say,
"And what is your business here?" an' I tell him I come specially to visit
the President and let him know that there was as good an' 'spectable
colored people in North Carolina as dere was in Alabama. Den he say, "Old
man, I'll discharge you on condition that you take the first train South;
you can't afford to circulate around here; some one will pull your "wad"
and you will be stranded along way from home. Go home while you can"; and
soon I was comin' back just as fast as I went. I tell ye I'se seen 'nough
of Washington; de colored man haint got no showin' at all. At Raleigh I
can jest walk right into the Governor's office and nobody'll say, Where
you gwine? and de Governor would say he felt pleased to see me, and he'd
give me my dinner too; but he wouldn't eat with me. I'se hearn about dis
yaller Nigger, Booker Washington, who goes up North to eat wid white
folks. He runs a big school and a big farm down in Alabama and gits all de
young colored boys he can to go to school some and to work on his farm
lots; and he tells 'em dey ought to be powerful glad to get to work on de
farm, while he sends his own children off to Wesley University, in school
wid white children. Take it all round, the honest colored person is
respected about as much in North Carolina as anywhere, and I 'spect to
stay at home after dis and keep on good terms wid our white folks, for dey
is the best after all."
AN IRISH SOCIALIST.
Patrick Finnegan had been studying socialism and told his friend, Barney
O'Brien, that socialism was a good thing, both charitable and Christian,
and if the people would adopt it all would be prosperous and happy. Barney
says, "Pat, if ye had two homes, would ye give me one?" "To be sure I
would," says Pat. "Then if ye had two horses, would ye give me one?" "Then
certainly I would," says Pat. "Then if ye had two hogs would ye give me
one?" "No. To hell with ye, Barney; ye know I've got thim." "Well, that
was what I was thinking, that ye would hold to your pigs with all the
tenacity that a Vanderbilt would grip his railroads. It is aisy enough to
give away what ye ain't got; but if ye can't practice what ye preach ye
had as well shut up." "Now that's just like ye, Barney; ye would never
make a good socialist. Ye would rob me entirely. You know I need me hogs;
but I would not need but one home, and one horse would be all I could work
and feed." "Yes, Pat, and I guess if ye wait until ye get a home and a
horse you'll be a socialist a good while yet." "To be sure I will, and if
you ever have a home at all it will be when I have one to give you."
Barney: "Then I guess I had better hold my job and not depend on ye." Pat:
"Along with ye, Barney; it may be well that ye can always find a boss."
SEVEN DAYS' FIGHT AROUND RICHMOND.
Reminiscences of Dr. Alexander, of Charlotte, N. C., recall to me the
scenes of those battle-fields of the Seven Days' battles of McClellan,
1862, when we passed over the ground in June, 1864, on our way to the
Chickahominy River. Many of the Federal dead had scarcely been buried at
all, as the rank weeds over the naked bones and blue rotten uniforms
showed, where groups of a score or more had been bunched in shallow graves
and lightly covered.
"Out of the 2,700 soldiers furnished the Southern army by Mecklenburg, how
few remain to tell of that fearful seven-days' struggle. The weather had
been intensely hot before the fighting began for several days. Many of our
men were on the sick list. On the 25th inst. the long roll was sounded;
our troops, the Thirty-seventh Regiment, was hastily formed in line.
Confederate battle-flags were here first displayed; stretchers for bearing
off the wounded were here first put in charge of the ambulance corps.
Everything wore a death-like hue. John Bell, a member of my company, said
he was not able for the march, was sick; I spoke to the surgeon, and told
him I would take Bell's word for anything. He said, "Leave him behind." In
a week he was dead. Another fellow asked me to intercede for him, that he
was sick. I told him I knew Bell, but I could not vouch for him; when
night came he deserted, and is living yet. This was as we were leaving
camp at Brock Church, six miles north of Richmond. We camped near Meadow
Bridge. On the 28th we moved slowly down the Chickahominy; got on the edge
of the road to let a body of Yankee prisoners pass; one of our men asked
them where they were going; an Irishman answered, 'In faith, I am going to
Richmond, where me wife has been telling me to go for the last two months,
and how far is it yit?'
"Late in the afternoon we heard heavy cannonading in our front, and we
pushed forward rapidly, bearing to the left, as we thought, to charge a
battery. Shells were passing through our line, killing seven men in one
company; when we got in thirty steps of the battery we were ordered to lay
down, to support the battery. The artillery duel ceased about 8 o'clock,
and remained quiet until 9 o'clock next morning, when it broke loose with
a vengeance and was quickly over. General Jackson had got in McClellan's
rear. Here the sun was terribly hot as we lay on the southern slope of the
hillside, with nothing to protect us from the vertical rays of the sun. We
went from here to Mechanicsville, where the heavy fighting was done the
evening before. Here the Yankee dead had not been moved, and the swarms
of horse-flies that arose from the dead carcasses rendered it necessary
for each man to hold one hand over his mouth and nose. It is impossible to
describe the scene as it was. In the afternoon of the 27th we reached
Gains' Mill; this battle opened about 3 p. m. It was terrific. North
Carolina's loss was very great. It was here that Colonel Campbell was
killed. Capt. Billy Kerr was desperately wounded. Many private soldiers
and company officers from Mecklenburg were killed and wounded. A rare
sight I witnessed. Some man, I never knew who he was, was riding back and
forth in front of our firing line, talking to the men, telling them to aim
low, don't shoot too high; he was bareheaded, wounded in the neck; no coat
on, and was riding a gray horse; the blood had run down from his neck to
his gray horse; he appeared cool and determined. A large and spotted hound
appeared at the same time, running and barking as heavy limbs were cut off
by shells, licking the blood from the dead and wounded. I don't know what
became of the dog or the man on horseback.
"When the battle was over, I was appointed to the medical department and
assigned to the Thirty-seventh Regiment. We went next to the bloody field
of Frazier's farm. Here our Colonel, Charles C. Lee, was killed; he was as
gallant an officer as ever trod the battle-fields of Virginia; he was as
brave as a lion and gentle as a lamb, and thought it not inconsistent with
his profession as a soldier, to acknowledge Jesus Christ as the Captain of
his salvation.
"The next move was to overtake McClelland's army, which was halted at
Malvern Hill. Here General McGruder was in front, and his orders were to
feel what position the enemy occupied. It was said at the time that
McGruder was so pleased with the position of his artillery that he at once
'let slip the dogs of war.' This proved the bloodiest battle of the war
for the time it lasted. From personal observation I can testify that there
was no break in the roar of musketry for five hours. The gunboats on the
James River threw large shells at random, most of which burst over their
own troops. The battle closed at 10 o'clock at night. Immediately the
Yankee army sought the shelter of their gunboats. It took us two days to
get the wounded all off to Richmond. One peculiar case of gun-shot wound I
will mention. A soldier by the name of Rankin, Company H, Thirty-seventh
Regiment, shot in the base of the skull of the medulla oblongatta, did not
prevent him from walking about; was examined by a dozen surgeons, but were
unable to trace or locate the bullet, when Dr. Campbell, of the Seventh
Regiment, called me as the youngest surgeon to try my hand. In a jest I
placed my hand on his forehead and told him to open his mouth; at once I
saw a swelling in the roof of his mouth; it was hard and smooth. I made a
slit with a scalpel, and showed a minnie ball to the astonished surgeons.
How the ball got there without killing him has always been a mystery.
"President Davis spent a night with us; he was in fine spirits, but seemed
deeply touched at the sight of so much suffering. We passed by the
battle-ground two days after the battle; the field was rolling; our dead
were all buried; it looked like a thousand-acre field of potato hills. The
enemy were still lying where they fell. They must have fought with great
desperation, as their line of battle was plainly to be seen by about every
third man being killed. This line could be traced one mile and a half.
"After waiting a few days to rest, and the enemy showing no disposition to
renew the fight, our men, from privates to general officers, began a
general hunt for them pesky little fellows that are not known in polite
circles. I have seen five hundred men have their shirts off at one time,
looking for--what they were sure to find. After this campaign we had a
great deal of typhoid fever; the hospitals being full of wounded, the most
of the cases were treated in camp, more successfully than they would have
been in Richmond hospitals. Lest we forget."
THE NEGRO PROBLEM.
Say what you will, it is the cause of all the sectional prejudice and
hatred ever engendered in this country. Thousands of millions of money and
hundreds of thousands of lives of good white men have been sacrificed in
the solution of the Negro problem for this country, and still it hangs
over us the darkest cloud that obscures the bright vision of peace and
good will to all men. And as the biologists say, "He stands out in his
dark isolation a perpetual challenge to the dogma of the unity of the
races." We understand him as a slave. In that capacity he filled every
expectation that could be required of him, always reflecting the character
of his master. If the master was very religious, so was he. If the master
was a drunkard and a sinner, so was he. Always a good imitator, but never
an originator. He liked to be flattered and honored and was always
faithful to every special trust. When kindly treated he loved his master
like a child. These were the conditions that the discipline of slavery
obtained. Now his status has changed and all personal restraints are
removed and strict discipline stopped. He is now thrown upon his own
resources, and must stand upon his own merits. He is now inclined to
neglect the patient, hard-earned virtues of the whites, and to imitate
their easy vices. He is handicapped at every turn by race prejudices. The
professions in most places are closed to him. He is not wanted anywhere
except as a cheap hewer of wood and drawer of water. All intelligent white
labor resent his competition, even in the humblest work. White lawyers and
doctors get some pickings out of him, and where he is numerous white
merchants have a good pull on him. All who are getting anything out of him
are willing to tolerate him. All who get nothing out of him would gladly
see him deported. Wherever he gets a foothold in country or city he
depreciates real estate by making conditions more or less intolerable. He
is a prolific subject for religious fanatics and cranks to practice upon.
He is an alien here in his native country among his own people. He is the
only man in all the world ashamed of himself and his color. His greatest
ambition is to be evoluted into a white man, and he wants to start right
now, and so long as that boon is denied him will he be an aggressive
alien. Since the old masters and old servants have passed away there is no
friendship or kind interest between their descendants, and the gulf is
widening all the while. This great country, leading the vanguard of
civilization for all the world, must do justice to all men. Now what can
we do with the Negro? Shall we keep him here a standing menace and a
perpetual challenge to mob law, and increase our police force, or deport
him and sustain a strictly white man's country. If we deport him as fast
as Europeans come in, we would soon be done with him as a factor in
politics and labor; but as yet we have no place to send him. Through
industrial and commercial relations we will soon absorb Mexico and the
Central American States, and upon the completion of the Panama Canal we
can expand rapidly into South America, where there is a vast area of
unsettled country that would make an ideal Negro country--throughout all
of the Amazon River country territory could be procured for the
colonization of all our Negroes under the fostering care of the United
States, where the black man may hold all the offices and fulfill all the
functions of complete citizenship, with close commercial relations in the
exchange of products. I have been taxed forty years for freeing him, and
would consent to be taxed forty years more to remove him to such a
paradise as herein suggested.
We want the Chinese excluded because they are too docile and carry a head
of their own. Then we want the Jap excluded because he is too smart for us
to compete with. When we lose a few million white men fighting Japan, as
we will have to do soon, as they swarm over here, dictating how they shall
be treated, then the white man's burden will be pretty heavy with the
colored problem, and a general house-cleaning may follow that will purify
the political atmosphere somewhat.
In the meantime all of our great, soulless corporations, transportation
and manufacturing companies regard all "coons alike," whether they be
white, black, yellow, brown or ring-streaked or striped. They exploit them
for what profit there is in them without regard to the interest of the
present or future generations. What did it matter to the Pharaohs what was
to be the future of their country, so long as they had plenty of slaves to
rear gigantic pyramids to their own selfish ambition.
In peace or war, where is the town that would have Negro troops quartered
in it, for fear at any time they be offended, shoot up the town and
massacre the women and children? Anywhere in this country that the Negro
is denied full social rights, he stands offended and ready to enact any
tragedy that promises to advance his social position. The whites must
decide whether they shall warm him in their bosoms or cast him off.
Nothing has ever been more firmly implanted in the human breast than race
prejudice. No first-class white man can feel at ease on social equality
with the colored races.
INDEX.
Page.
Jamestown and its significance 5
The Jamestown Exposition 5
A tribute to Virginia 7
History of Company F, Fifty-sixth Regiment 8
Confederate monument at Shelby 35
A patriotic recruit 36
A bad case of itch 37
Longstreet's Corps on the way to Chickamauga 38
Shooting an outlaw 39
Removing Federal prisoners from Richmond to Andersonville 40
Navigating the Appomattox River 42
Incidents in the lines 45
Reminiscences of Point Lookout Prison 46
A negro servant who claimed he carried white ladies' hair 47
Begging crumbs from a negro's table 47
Two patriotic soldiers and one who was out for the bounty 48
On the wharf detail, and waiting to steal something from Uncle
Sam's plentiful stores 48
The invasion of home land after Lee's surrender 52
A faithful negro servant 52
Would not let them take all the meat the man had 53
Confederate troopers commit outrages, plunder and murder 54
A hearty conscript 54
Scenes at Appomattox--Stragglers in the Union army 56
A patriotic darkey 57
An aggrieved Union soldier seeks sympathy from his Southern
people 58
Field officers of the Fifty-sixth Regiment, North Carolina troops 58
A true Virginia boy and a bit of romance 62
Col. Billy Miller's upright farm in the upright regions of Cleveland
County, and how he came to own it, with sketches of the county and
some of its people 65
Uncle Abe Wallis' visit to Washington 69
An Irish socialist 71
Seven days' fight around Richmond 71
The negro problem 75
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
The following misprints have been corrected:
"their's" corrected to "theirs" (page 6)
"Aftter" corrected to "After" (page 11)
"Compaany" corrected to "Company" (page 13)
"Irisman" corrected to "Irishman" (page 72)
Inconsistencies in spelling, hyphenation, and the use of
quotation marks have been retained.
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