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Memoirs of a Veteran Who Served as a Private in the 60's in the War Between the States Personal Incidents, Experiences and Observations

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CHAPTER XII

When we reached Jackson the previous day I noted a flat by the side of the railroad bridge. I was thinking to cross Pearl River by that means, so I started to the right towards the railroad bridge. On my way down the street a lady was standing over a tub of whiskey with a dipper in her hand. She said to me, "Poor fellow, are you wounded?" I said, "Yes." She dipped up a dipper full of whiskey, which I drank. It had a good effect on my shattered nerves and did not cause me the least dizziness. It was the medicine I surely needed. On arriving at the River, I found the flat was gone, the railroad bridge was the only chance left me to cross. I crawled up the embankment and found that the cross ties were too far apart for me to step it, owing to my contracted leaders, so I concluded to "coon it" on my hands and knees on the stringers, holding onto the rail.

The bridge is a long one and very high, Jackson being built on a high bluff. When about half way across I heard a great deal of noise and reports of fire arms; I heard bullets whizzing by. Finally bullets were hitting the trestle beneath me and in front of me. Looking back I saw at a distance of about four hundred yards a force of the enemy, which I judged to be about half a regiment, coming up the lowlands in a flank around Jackson. My first impulse was, can I make it across, or must I surrender? I concluded to take the chances, and continued to cross. Bullets were striking beneath me, and in front, splinters were flying. One ball hit the rail about six inches in front of my hand. They were gaining on me fast, when at last I reached the other side, laying myself flat on the track, I rolled over, down about an eighteen foot embankment. Thus being protected from the enemy's bullets, I entered the swamp not far beside the road leading to Branton, I noted a large hollow poplar tree. It must have been four or five feet in diameter. I crawled in, I felt faint and weak, had not eaten anything that day. I must have fainted; when presently I heard the sound of artillery and musketry to my right across the river and the noise of an empty wagon coming from towards Branton. I took a reconnoitering look, and saw Jackson on fire and a wagon driven by a negro, holding the lines over four splendid mules, coming towards the city. I took my stand in the road, pistol in hand. The following conversation ensued:

"Halt. Where are you going?"

"To Jackson. Marse Richard sent me to fotch his things. He is afraid the Yankees would cotch him."

"How will you get across?"

"Goes on the flat, sah."

"There is no flat now."

"Yes there is, and Marse Richard–"

"Turn the head of the mules towards Branton, or you are a dead Negro"—aiming at him as I spoke. He exclaimed, "Don't shoot Marster, I'll do as you say." He turned the mules towards where he came from. I crawled behind in the wagon, pistol in hand, and at a gallop all the way for twelve miles. We entered Branton in the early part of the night. The people were still up at the Hotel. The excitement ran high about the enemies capturing Jackson. Branton was a nice little village. The negro proved to be a run-away. Had stolen the team from the quartermaster and running with it to the enemy. The lady of the hotel came to me saying, "Are you wounded?" I stated my condition, and she sympathized with me, saying, "Poor fellow, I expect you need something to eat." I surely did, for I was more dead than alive, after having passed such an eventful day. I ate a hearty supper. I was given a shirt. She bandaged my arm, which was smarting badly. She furnished me a room and a bottle of mustang linament to rub myself. My clothes which were full of mud were washed and dried by a large fire. The following morning, I felt really refreshed. It is unnecessary to say that I slept well that night. At an early hour that morning, the alarm of "The Yankees are coming. They are only four miles from here and Johnston is retreating towards Canton." Everybody that could get away, left. The quartermaster had an old broken down horse, which he tendered me for having saved his fine team, and I left the town on horse back, thanking my hostess for all her kindness. About two miles from Branton I met up with three men from my Company, viz, A. P. Heath, Jackson O'Quinn and Harmon Fields. They were not in the fight, having been on the sick list and not fit for duty, so we traveled together for some distance. We reached a settlement, which from appearance, belonged to well-to-do people. The gentleman of the premises was standing at the gate leading to the house. I said to my comrades that I would have to rest and recuperate until I got well, so I addressed myself to the proprietor, "Sir, can you take care of a wounded Confederate?" He put his hand in his hip pocket in quick motion, as if to draw a pistol, but instead drew a small slate and pencil, handed it to me with a motion to write my request, which I did. He rubbed it out and wrote swiftly in a scholarly style, "Nothing I have is too good for a Confederate soldier. Walk in—all of you." His name was Williams, unfortunately deaf and dumb, but very intelligent. His family consisted of a wife and two daughters, and all seemed to be well educated and comfortably situated. They were very solicitous in their attentions to us. The girls played on the piano while I entertained the old man, by writing on his slate my experience of the previous day. He looked at me in wonder, and occasionally took hold of my hand and shook it. I remained his guest for nearly a week, until we located our Company, and where to meet it. I got entirely well, my arm was healing nicely, under the care of Mrs. Williams. Our forces had located at Canton. He sent us mule-back through Pearl River Swamp to the Canton road, while I rode my horse. He refused to take any remuneration for anything he had done for us, so I sent back my horse with a note and begged him to accept the same and thanking them all for what they had done for us.

CHAPTER XIII

The following day I entered camp with my comrades among great cheers, all having thought me dead or a prisoner. Major Martin asked me how I got through. I told him I took his advice and did the best I could. I related to him the incidents that I met with. He said, "Well, I congratulate you. I don't believe one in a thousand would have escaped." "I was glad I was the one." We were ordered to strike tents at Canton, and we retraced our steps again towards Jackson, a distance of between twenty and twenty-five miles. It was one of the hottest days of the season. The road bed being red clay. Our forces now amounted to about eight thousand men, and marching in column with artillery, wagon train and all the paraphernalia appertaining to a moving army, raised such intense dust that it was impossible to recognize one's file-leader in his immediate front. Every step of every individual raised clouds of dust, which lay ankle deep. It was actually suffocating. Men and horses would gasp for breath. The men occasionally would expectorate large lumps of clay that settled in their throats, and no water to be had. We didn't pass a single stream of any kind. It was a forced march to get in the enemy's rear and to cut off reinforcement and supplies for Grant's invading forces onto Vicksburg. The enemy was also making back to Jackson on the Clinton Road which ran nearly parallel to the Canton Road, and we could see their advance by the column of dust to our right. Just before dark a very heavy rain and thunder storm set in. It was preferable to the previous conditions of the weather, although it put us half leg deep in sticky red mud. It got so dark we could not see anything and the rain continued pouring down in all its fury. It was nip and tuck as to which army would reach Jackson first. We got there just a little ahead of the enemy in time to occupy the ditches which now were nearly knee deep in water. In that condition we passed the night, expecting to be attacked momentarily. Men were detailed long in the rear to cook rations for the men in the ditch, which were issued along the line, and consisted of corn bread cooked (a la hate) and a piece of fat bacon. A very amusing incident happened to one of my comrades, W. A. Grimes, who early on our march, and before the dust got so dense, had to step aside for some reason, and being detained while the column kept onward, threw him some distance behind his command. The State of Georgia had sent her troops some shoes; the description of my draw I have already stated, and some white wool hats. Grimes put his name on the front of his hat in large capital letters, and as he hurried to catch up with his command, someone hollowed as he passed, "How are you Bill Grimes?" Grimes stopped in surprise to see who knew him in some other command. Others took up the word all along the line of "How are you Bill Grimes?" Grimes hurried on, on his way, the perspiration running down his face, which had the appearance of being covered with a mask. He could not account for his sudden popularity until he pulled off his hat to wipe off his face. He saw his name on his hat and quickly turned it wrong side out. His name had passed all along the column faster than he could travel and passed Howell's Battery long before he caught up with it. Early in the morning the enemy made demonstrations all along our line and was repulsed. It had quit raining. The artillery kept up a desultory fire for eight days and nights. The enemy's forces were at least three to our one and therefore, could relieve each other, while we were obliged to be kept continually on duty, and consequently became exhausted, my eyes were blood shot, men loaded and fired mechanically, and when so exhausted that I couldn't stand any longer, I dropped beside one of the pieces and in a jiffy, was asleep. I couldn't even hear the report of the guns within a few feet of me. The strain was more than my physique could stand. I got sick and unconscious, and when I came to myself, I was in Yazoo City in a private house, snugly fixed, and a kindly lady by my bedside, whose name was Mrs. Lyons. She cried for joy to see me recover my senses. I asked her where I was and how long I had been there. She said just a week. I asked her what place it was and she said "Yazoo City." I shall always remember gratefully the kind treatment I received from that worthy family, and when after a week's convalescence, I took my leave with many thanks. The lady said she hoped that her brother who was in the Virginia army would in case of sickness receive the attention that she would bestow on any Confederate soldier. Such was the spirit that prevailed throughout the Confederate States.

 

CHAPTER XIV

I rejoined my command at Morton station on the M. & O. Railroad. The object of the second fight at Jackson, as I understood it, was to get in the rear of the investing army of Vicksburg under General Grant. General Joseph E. Johnston expected a reinforcement, sufficient so as to cut off supplies from the invading army, and to attack it in the rear, while General Pemberton might make a sortie and attack it in the front, and thus save Vicksburg from capture. Our reinforcement never came. We then moved to Vaughn Station and thus hung in the rear of Grant, but not strong enough to venture an attack, unless in concert with General Pemberton who was defeated at Big Black and bottled up in Vicksburg, his stronghold. A very sad incident happened in our camp. Lieutenant Ruben Bland, a very kind officer and beloved by all his men, died. His brother Sim, as stated, was killed at the first fight at Jackson. They were very much attached to each other and brooding over his misfortune, some thought he took opium with suicidal intent, others thought otherwise. The writer was sitting on a box on the railroad platform, smoking his pipe. Close to the platform stood the Company's ambulance. In passing me Lieutenant Bland remarked, "Well, Ike, you seem to enjoy your pipe," I answered, "I do, I smoke the pipe of peace," he smiled and said, "Yes, everything looks peaceable here, I believe I am going to take a nap in this ambulance." About a quarter of an hour after, Quinten Dudley who was Hospital Steward, had cause to get some medicine out of the medicine chest that Dr. Stewart kept in the ambulance. He immediately gave the alarm that Lieutenant Bland was dead. I could not believe it. I jumped off the platform into the ambulance, and there lay Lieutenant Bland stretched out in full length, his face purple. Dr. Stewart, who at once was on hand opened an artery on top of his head. He bled freely. He tried to get up artificial respiration by working his arm back and forth, but to no avail. Bland was dead beyond recovery and mourned by every member of the Company.

It was on a very warm June day when I concluded to have a general cleaning up. It must be remembered that we lost all of our personal effects, which we destroyed to keep them from falling into the enemy's hands, and our wardrobes only consisted of what we carried on our backs and filth begot what we called "creepers", and one not used to such made him feel most miserable, so I took a camp kettle which also served for our culinary purposes to boil my clothes in, and while they were drying in the sun, I crept into the bushes in the shade and fell asleep. During my repose some miscreant stole my shirt, and for several weeks I did not have a shirt on my back, so one day it came to my knowledge that Gen. W. H. T. Walker, our Division Commander, having been promoted, and Colonel Claude Wilson, was appointed as Brigadier General in his place, offered a reward of thirty days furlough and a fine saddle horse to ride during the war to any man that would carry a dispatch to General Pemberton who was then besieged in Vicksburg. I told Sergeant Hines if any man needed a furlough I did, in the fix I was in. I believe I will go and offer my services. He laughed and said, "Well, good luck old fellow." So I started to headquarters which were in an abandoned farm house, about a quarter of a mile distant from where our battery was in camp. I walked to the sentinel who halted me. I want to see Gen. Walker. "You can't get in." "Call the officer of the guard," says I, which he did and the Lieutenant came up. I stated to him that I wanted to see Gen. Walker. "Follow me," says he, which I did. There were at least from twenty to twenty-five officers of all grades sitting in a large room, engaged, it seemed to me, in social conversation. I walked straight up to General Walker and stated my business, and what I had heard he offered to any man who would successfully carry a dispatch to General Pemperton at Vicksburg. "I thought, if any man needed a furlough, it was I." Opening my jacket which was closely buttoned, although it was a hot day in July, I displayed my nakedness. "I have not even, as you see, a shirt to wear." It raised a giggle among some of the officers, while others looked upon me in sympathy. I stated how I lost that only shirt I possessed. Just at that time entered Major Martin. Recognizing me, he said, "Hermann, you here?" He seemed rather surprised. I stated the object of my visit. He turned to General Walker, saying, "General, I stand sponsor for this man. He belongs to my battery, and he is one of the best." I inclined my head in recognition of the compliment paid me, and he extended me his hand. In the meantime, General Walker called me and said, "You see that small trunk in yonder corner. Therein is my wardrobe. I believe I have three shirts therein; that is all I have—I divide—go and get you one. We are about the same size. I hope it will fit you." I made for the little hairy trunk, no bigger than a good hand valise and slightly oval, opened the lid, saying, "Beggars ought not to be choosers. I will take the first I come to," which was a clean white shirt, with cuffs and collars attached. Off went my jacket in the presence of the company; into the garment I went, feeling a thousand per cent. better. I said, "Well, General, I've heard of some stepping into other men's shoes, but never before have I known of a high private slipping into a General's shirt at one jump." This brought a big laugh from the assembly, the General joining heartily. I thanked him and extended my hand in token of my appreciation. He remarked, "You are surely welcome, come around tomorrow at eleven o'clock A. M., and we will talk matters over." He asked, "Have you ever been to Vicksburg." "No Sir." "Do you know anything about the country around, and about the City?" "This is my first experience in these diggins." "How would you manage?" "I'll be governed by circumstances as they present themselves." After a pause he repeated, "Come around tomorrow at eleven o'clock." I gave the military salute and started towards the door, when he called me saying, "Do you ever drink anything?" I answered, "General, this is a strange question. Why didn't Jack eat his supper? I've not seen a drop since we left Jackson," and I stated how I got that. He laughed and said, "Go in that room," indicating the door with his index finger. "You will find a table in there with liquors, I think a good drink will do you good." One invitation was sufficient. I stepped into the next room, and there I beheld a round table loaded with all kinds of bottles, containing different liquors, some labeled different kinds of whiskies, brandies, gin, schedam, schnapps, etc. I took the square bottle of schedam and poured me out a stiff drink, thanked the General and departed for my camp, but not being in the habit of drinking, I felt the effects of the liquor. I felt somewhat, what I may call buoyant, and in for any fun. I met Sergeant W. H. Hines. He said, "Ike, what luck?" "The best in the world," tapping myself on the breast. "You see that shirt, this once was General Walker's, now it's mine." I told him all that passed at headquarters. The next day I reported as directed. The General said, "Well, Hermann, the jig is up. While we were talking about the matter yesterday, Pemberton surrendered, and I therefore do not need your services." I said, "well, I wish he had held out until some other day than the fourth of July." The General said, "Yes."

As I started to camp, the General said, "Well, Hermann I thank you anyhow for your offer and you shall have a furlough all the same. I give you two weeks. I hope you will have a nice time." Major Martin who was present said also, he hoped I would have a nice time. I replied, "Major, I have not a cent of money, how can I have a nice time. We have not been paid off since we left Savannah. Have you some money? If so I would like to borrow until I get mine from the Government." He said, he had a fifty dollar bill. If it would do me any good, I could have it. He handed me the bill which was then worth about two or three dollars in specie. Such was the depreciation of our currency. I went into the interior about ten miles from camp. The people were downcast. They did not know what would become of them. Jackson, the capital of the State, in the hands of the enemy. Vicksburg, a large and well fortified city and defended by a large army had surrendered and its defenders taken prisoners. The people were in despair, not knowing what evil awaited them. I soon found out that camps among the boys was the more congenial place for me, so after an absence of three days I returned.

CHAPTER XV

So one good afternoon, J. B. Thomas, a good clever comrade and good soldier, and myself took a stroll and incidentally looking for something to eat. We passed a vegetable garden, a luxury we seldom enjoyed. On the side of the pailings were some squashes. Thomas remarked, I wish I had some of them. I said, "Well, slip one of those palings and get a few, I'll be on the watch out." No sooner said than done. Thomas gathered about a dozen the size of my fist. He stuck them in his shirt bosom. I gave him the alarm that the lady was watching him. As he looked up he saw her at the other end of the garden. He started through the opening he had made quicker than a rabbit could have done when pursued by hounds. Thomas is a man of small stature and very short legged, but he split the air to beat the band. We were both in our shirt sleeves, no vests, only wore pants confined around the waist by a belt, the squashes were bobbing up and down in his shirt, as he progressed and the proprietress after him. Finally the squashes lifted the shirt out of his confines and down came the squashes rolling on the ground. Thomas did not stop, but casting a regretful side glance at his booty, he sped on to camp, while his garment was floating to the breeze, caused by his velocity. When the woman reached the spot where the squashes lay scattered, she stopped, looking after the fleeing individual and sending a full vocabulary of invectives after him. I who had followed leisurely caught up while she gathered her squashes into her apron. I remarked, "Madam, you seem to have spilled your vegetables." "No, it was not me that spilled them, it's that good for nothing somebody, there he runs—he stole them out of my garden." I said, "He ought not to have done it, if I knew who he was I would report him." She said, "I would not have minded to give him some if he had asked me for them, but I don't like for anybody to go into my garden and take what belongs to me." Poor woman, she had no idea that within a few days after our departure, the enemy would appear and not only appropriate the needful, but would destroy all the rest to keep her from enjoying any of it. She offered me some of the squashes which I accepted with thanks. I carried them to Thomas, saying she would have given you some if you had asked for them. Thomas replied, he wished he had known it.