The battle of Fredericksburg was at hand. I need not describe it, except to say that from Howison’s Hill, afterwards known as Lee’s Hill, where Generals Lee and Longstreet and their staffs remained for a considerable part of the day, there was a magnificent view of as grand a spectacle as one could desire to see in war. I was there soon after daybreak, and as the mist of the morning cleared away we could easily make out the enemy’s movements. Large bodies of troops had already crossed the Rappahannock, and the fields near it were blue with Yankees. On the opposite shore were the long trains of wagons and ambulances, together with the reserve artillery. A 30-pound Parrot gun which we had was ordered to open on the enemy, and very soon the artillery fire became brisk. Fredericksburg, which had been so calm and peaceful in the early light, was set on fire by the enemy’s shells. The enemy now made a fierce attack on our right, which was repulsed with comparative ease. It was thrilling to watch the long line advance, note the gaps in the array, as the wounded fell or else staggered to the rear, and see the gallant remnant melt away like snow before our withering fire. At Marye’s Hill, which was the key to our position, the most desperate fighting was done. Again and again the enemy charged, only to be driven back with terrible slaughter. There it was that Meagher’s Brigade made its historic charge. The field in front of the hill, beyond the road, was well called the slaughter-pen. The enemy lay there in their ranks, as they had fallen, and the fence was riddled like a sieve by the rifle bullets. I had a very narrow escape. Standing ina group with three other officers watching the action, a shell exploded near us and bruised or wounded everyone of my companions. I was not touched.
Late at night I returned to camp, and crept into a wagon to take a quiet sleep, placing my coat, cap and trousers under my head, in the front part of the wagon. In the morning my coat was missing, and the natural conclusion was that it had been stolen. Such things did happen. Looking about rather disconsolately, and wondering how I was to replace the missing garment, I saw some buttons and shreds of gold lace lying on the ground. The thieves were discovered. It was the wretched mules, who had unceremoniously dragged my clothes out of the wagon and chewed up my uniform coat, in place of the long forage, the hay or fodder, which they craved. The mules, at this time, were fed on corn almost exclusively; and their desire for rough food, as it was called, led them frequently to gnaw the poles of the wagons. These poles on this account were protected in many cases by strips of iron, which rendered them impervious to even the teeth of a mule. I was in a sad dilemma, of course, and was laughed at for my pains. Fortunately, I succeeded in buying a coat, which answered my purposes until I reached Petersburg, in the spring.
The army was now into winter quarters, the men making themselves as comfortable as they could. Snow-balling was a favorite amusement, and was carried on in grand style, brigade challenging brigade to a sham fight. These contests were very exciting, and were the source of great amusement to the men. Practical jokes, too, were frequently played upon the officers. Mrs. Longstreet was staying at a house a mile or two from our head-quarters, and GeneralLongstreet rode over there every evening, returning to camp in the morning. On his way he passed through the camp of the Texas Brigade of Hood’s Division, and was frequently saluted with a shower of snow-balls. For some time he took it with his usual imperturbability, but he grew tired of the one-sided play at last, and the next time that he was riding by the Texans, and found them drawn up on the side of the road, snow-balls in hand, he reined up his horse, and said to them very quietly, “Throw your snow-balls men, if you want to, as much as you please; but, if one of them touches me, not a man in this brigade shall have a furlough this winter. Remember that!” There was no more snow-balling for General Longstreet’s benefit.
The officers at our head-quarters had a less innocent amusement than pitching snow-balls. The great American game of poker was played nearly every night. One of the most successful of the gamesters was Major Walton, who was a kinsman of General Longstreet, through whose influence he had received an appointment in the Commissary Department. He really did general staff duty. At one sitting Walton won $2,000 or more from Dr. Maury, who was one of the Surgeons of the corps; and he caused much unfavorable comment by sending to Dr. Maury for his winnings before that gentleman was out of bed in the morning. There was hard drinking as well as high playing; and it was reported that at the close of one debauch General Longstreet had played horse with one of the stronger officers of his staff, who on all-fours carried Longstreet around and around the tent until the pair of them rolled over on the ground together.
The head-quarters of General Lee were in the woods, andfar from luxurious. He was advised by his physicians to stay in one of the houses near by, as many of his officers were doing, but he declined to fare any better than his men did. There was no pomp or circumstance about his head-quarters, and no sign of the rank of the occupant, other than the Confederate flag displayed in front of the tent of Colonel Taylor, the Adjutant-General.
It may not be out of place to mention the scale of prices that prevailed in the Confederacy towards the close of the year 1862, as I gave them in a letter to my mother: Shoes $30 a pair; common calico shirts $10 each; socks $1 a pair; butter $2 a pound; turkeys $15 each; matches 50 to 75 cents a box; ink 25 cents a bottle; blacking $1 a cake; writing paper $2 a quire.
Early in 1863 Longstreet was placed in command of the Department of Virginia and North Carolina, with head-quarters at Petersburg, and with Hood’s and Pickett’s Divisions he moved to that place. An effort to capture Suffolk, on the Norfolk and Petersburg Railroad, was contemplated, and most of our command moved in that direction. I remained at Petersburg during the operations, which were unsuccessful.
It was, of course, very pleasant for me in the Cockade City, and my pay had accumulated sufficiently to permit me to provide myself with new uniforms, in the latest style and at extravagant prices.
There was considerable excitement in the city, in consequence of an order that the pleasure horses of the citizens should be impressed for the use of the artillery. To this there was a very decided objection, and every manner of device was resorted to save the pet animals. Some good people attempted to run off their horses into the country, but pickets had been stationed along the roads and the fugitives were easily captured. When the impressing officers went around to examine the horses in town, they found horses in the cellars and even in the dining-rooms. A carriage containing three ladies and drawn by a pair of fine bay horses was going down Sycamore Street when a guard ordered the driver to halt, and told the ladies that it was his unpleasant duty to impress the team. The ladies, who were young and pretty, declared that the horses should not be taken. They tried both entreaty and expostulation, but the guard was inexorable. The ladies then declared thatif the horses were taken they must be taken too, and thought they had gained the victory. The guard did go away, but he quickly unhitched the traces, and took the horses with him, leaving the ladies in their carriage in all their glory. In some cases the impressment was useless, as delicate horses were taken which were of no use for service in the field.
The battle of Chancellorsville had been fought during our stay around Petersburg, and the command was then hurried back to the neighborhood of Fredericksburg. It was in May, 1863, I think, that I returned there. The Gettysburg campaign began, but before this I saw the review of the whole cavalry of the army at Brandy Station. The enemy came in upon us shortly afterwards, and, in the very beginning of the cavalry fighting, Colonel Sol. Williams, of the 1st North Carolina, was killed. He had been married to Miss Maggie Pegram, Captain Robert B. Pegram’s eldest daughter, only about two weeks before. The Adjutant of his regiment was John Pegram, Captain Pegram’s eldest son, who was killed at Petersburg in 1864.
The march from Culpepper Court House through Chester Gap, in the Blue Ridge, was very delightful to me, as the weather was fine and the scenery was beautiful. I was particularly struck with the scenery at Front Royal and Shenandoah. The Valley of Virginia then showed few signs of war.
This time we crossed the Potomac at Williamsport. It was a dreary day! The rain was falling in torrents. General Lee, General Longstreet and General Pickett were riding together, followed by their staffs. When we reached the Maryland shore we found several patriotic ladies with small feet and big umbrellas waiting to receive the Confederateswho were coming a second time to deliver down-trodden Maryland. As General Lee rode out of the water, one of the ladies, with a face like a door-knocker, stepped forward and said: “This is General Lee, I presume?” General Lee gave an affirmative reply, and the lady continued: “General Lee, allow me to bid you welcome to Maryland, and allow me to present to you these ladies who were determined to give you this reception—Miss Brown, General Lee; Miss Jones, General Lee; Miss Smith, General Lee.” General Lee thanked them courteously for their attention, and introduced General Longstreet and General Pickett to Miss Brown, Miss Jones and Miss Smith. This was not the end of the affair, however, as one of the ladies had an enormous wreath which she was anxious to place on the neck of General Lee’s charger. The horse objected to it seriously, and the wreath was turned over to one of the couriers. The next morning we went into Hagerstown, where more ladies were in waiting. There were more presentations to General Lee and more introductions for Generals Longstreet and Pickett. One fair lady asked General Lee for a lock of his hair. General Lee said that he really had none to spare, and he was quite sure, besides, that they would prefer such a souvenir from one of his younger officers, and that he was confident that General Pickett would be pleased to give them one of his curls. General Pickett did not enjoy the joke, for he was known everywhere by his corkscrew ringlets, which were not particularly becoming when the rain made them lank in such weather as we then had. The ladies did not press the request. When we resumed our march more ladies came to be presented, but this time there were no petitions for a lock of Pickett’s hair.
It was some satisfaction for me to pass once more through Greencastle, where I had been bedeviled by both men and women when taken there by the cavalry who captured me the year before. Thence we went to Chambersburg, and I was amazed to find that hundreds of sturdy well-dressed citizens were still in the town. In Virginia there was hardly a white man to be found who was not in the Confederate service, excepting the sick and those who were too old or too infirm for any sort of military duty; and it gave us a realizing sense of the strength of the enemy to see that they could have so large armies in the field and leave so many lusty men in peace at home.
The army behaved superbly in Pennsylvania. The orders against straggling and looting were strict, and they were cheerfully obeyed. It was on the march in Pennsylvania that I saw General Lee, one morning, dismount from his horse and replace the rails of the fence of a wheat field which had been thrown down by some of our men. It was the best rebuke that he could have given to the offenders.
At Chambersburg I paid a visit to the jail in which I had been confined, and found a number of Yankee soldiers in the yard. Had I been so minded, I might have played upon them the malicious trick of which the Chambersburg boys made us the objects when we were there. Riding through the town, I recognized one of the citizens who had been peculiarly kind to me when I was a prisoner, and who had given me then an excellent dinner. I thought I would catechise him a little, and called out in a loud voice: “Halt, there!” He seemed rather nervous, and asked what I would have. “Do you live here?” I asked. He said that he did. “Did you live here last year?” He replied in the affirmative. “Were you here in September last,when a number of Confederate prisoners were brought in?” He said, “Yes, I was, but I did nothing against them.” Looking sternly at him I said, “Do you remember me?” He said that he did not. “Well, sir,” I continued, “I was one of those prisoners.” By this time he was badly frightened, and I hastened to relieve him by saying that my only object was to thank him for his kindness to me, and ascertain if there was anything I could do for him in return. He thanked me, but said that the town was so quiet that he needed no protection.
Late in the evening I rode out of the town, and it was dark before I came back. I was riding quite rapidly, and my horse, striking his foot against one of the stepping stones in the middle of the street, fell and threw me about ten feet over his head. As I went down I heard a woman exclaim: “Thank God, one of those wicked Rebels has broken his neck.” I was not hurt, and my horse was not much injured, so I remounted and, riding to the sidewalk, informed my unseen foe that the pleasure she anticipated was, at least, postponed.
The people generally were evidently greatly surprised at the devotion of our men to General Lee, and made some rough remarks about it. One old lady called out to an officer of ours as he strode by: “You are marching mighty proudly now, but you will come back faster than you went.” “Why so, old lady?” he asked. “Because you put your trust in General Lee and not in the Lord Almighty,” she replied.
I should mention here that the horse which I was riding was a fine black gelding, which I had bought on our way to the Valley of Virginia. A more thoroughly trustworthy animal I could not have had, and he stood fire splendidly.I had two other horses at this time, but always rode in action the black gelding I have just spoken of. I had intended to have given him some fancy name, but my boy Aleck dubbed him “Pete” the day I bought him, and by that name he went.
On the march from Chambersburg we learned that General Meade had been placed in command of the Union Army, and we pushed on towards Gettysburg, where A. P. Hill’s Corps had been heavily engaged. This day I was prostrated by sickness, and rode in an ambulance until nearly night, when I managed to get on my horse and go down to the battle-field. Longstreet himself has described admirably the fighting the next day; and, careless as he generally was of himself under fire, he nowhere else exposed himself more recklessly. One charge he led in person, and some prisoners whom we captured, when they learned who it was that had ridden in front of our advancing line, said they might expect to get whipped when a Corps commander exposed himself in that way to show his men how to fight.
The following day, July 3, the ever-memorable battle of Gettysburg was fought. Every arrangement was made to shell the enemy’s position, on Cemetery Hill, and follow this up by an attack in force. The whole of the long range guns in the army were placed in battery along the low range of hills which we occupied, and at three o’clock the cannonading began. The enemy made prompt reply. Three or four hundred pieces of artillery were being fired as rapidly as the cannoneers could load them. Being in the centre of the front line, I had an excellent view of the fight. It was a hellish scene. The air was dotted with clouds of smoke where shells had burst, and the fragments of shell and the solid shot were screaming and shrieking in every direction. Through it all, General Longstreet was as unmoved as a statue, watching placidly theenemy’s lines. In the meanwhile Pickett’s Division had been formed in readiness for the charge. Three of his brigades were present; those of Kemper, Armistead and Garnett, composed exclusively of Virginians. Prayers were offered up in front of Armistead’s brigade and Garnett’s brigade, before the advance began. Garnett remarked to Armistead: “This is a desperate thing to attempt.” Brave old Armistead replied: “It is; but the issue is with the Almighty, and we must leave it in his hands.” Just then a hare which had been lying in the bushes, sprang up and leaped rapidly to the rear. A gaunt Virginian, with an earnestness that struck a sympathetic chord in many a breast, yelled out: “Run old heah; if I were an old heah I would run too.” The artillery firing ceased, and the order to advance was given. Pickett was in the centre, with Wilcox’s Division on the right, and Pender’s, commanded by Pettigrew, on the left. The thin grey line of Virginians moved as steadily as on parade, the battle flags catching a deeper red from the sun. Well in front of their brigades were Kemper, and Garnett, and Armistead. The last named was bare-headed, his grey locks floating in the breeze. Waving his sabre and hat in hand, he cheered on his men. They did what men could do; but more had been expected of them than mortal men could accomplish. Armistead was mortally wounded inside the enemy’s works. Garnett was killed instantly. Kemper was severely wounded, and supposed to be dying. My recollection is that only one field officer in Pickett’s Division escaped unhurt.
The attack had been made and had failed. There was a terrible gap in our line, and the enemy threatened to advance. In the meanwhile the staff officers were busily engaged in rallying the men, who had made their way backfrom the front. I suppose that I was the first man to whom Pickett spoke when he reached the line. With tears in his eyes, he said to me: “Why did you not halt my men here? Great God, where, oh! where is my division?” I told him that he saw around him what there was left of it. General Lee, of course, took all the blame on himself. As was well said by a writer at this time: “General Lee was grand on the smoke-crowned hills of Petersburg, on the sanguinary field of Chancellorsville, and on the tragic plains of Manassas; but when at Gettysburg he told his men, ‘It is my fault’, he rose above his race, and communed with the angels of heaven.” That sad night not more than three hundred men remained to us of what had been one of the finest divisions in the service. The remnants of the companies were commanded by corporals and sergeants; regiments by lieutenants; and a brigade by a Major. Never had Virginia suffered a heavier blow. The division was composed of the flower of her children, and there was weeping and desolation in every part of the Old Dominion.
It was in every way an ugly time. There was always considerable difficulty in obtaining a sufficient supply of artillery ammunition. The first trouble was in making it, and the second was in finding transportation for it. At no time did we have so large a reserve as was necessary. What was true of the artillery was true in a less degree of the infantry. There was even some delay on our march into Pennsylvania in consequence of the detention of a train of ordnance wagons, which did not arrive when expected. A brigade of infantry with a battery of artillery, was sent as an escort; for had that train been captured it would have been risking too much to advance farther. The terrible cannonade on the third day at Gettysburg exhausted thewhole of the artillery ammunition in reserve. My recollection is, that there was no long range ammunition left except what wasin the caissonsand limber chests. Under such circumstances, and having lost so heavily in the attack on Cemetery Hill, General Lee determined to retreat to Virginia; but we lay one day at least on the field awaiting the attack which Meade did not venture to make. The Union forces had suffered severely; but they could stand the loss of men better than we could; and they had a right to claim Gettysburg as a decisive victory, for we had failed utterly in what we had undertaken.
The march back to the Potomac was dreary and miserable indeed. The rain fell in torrents. The clothing of the men was worn and tattered, and too many of them were without shoes. It was a heart-breaking business, and gloom settled down upon the army. The enemy’s cavalry made an attempt to cut us off at Williamsport, where the river was too high for fording, and they would have succeeded but for the gallantry of the wagoners and “Company Q” (the stragglers, and the disabled men with the trains), who had a free fight with them, and drove them back. We crossed the river on a pontoon bridge, leaving the cavalry in the entrenchments at Williamsport, and plodded our way back towards Winchester. Just about this time we received the news of the fall of Vicksburg. It needed only this to intensify the feeling that the star of the Confederacy was setting.
Passing from grave to gay, I may mention here that a sad trick was played on me by Captain Innes Randolph, an Engineer officer at our head-quarters. While we were at Bunker Hill, on the way to Winchester, he invited me to dine with him, saying that his mess had a very fine ’possum, which would be a novelty to me if I had not tasted thatsucculent dish. It was finely served, and merited the encomiums that Randolph lavished upon it. He was careful, besides, to tell me that I should find, as I did, that it tasted very much like roast sucking pig. Two or three years afterwards Randolph told me that this famous dish was not ’possum after all, but a sucking pig which he had bagged in the neighborhood, and which he had dubbed ’possum in order to spare me the pain of banqueting on a dish that I knew to be —— I was going to say “stolen,” but we called it “captured” in the army.
Resuming our march, we passed through Millwood and Chester Gap, where we had a slight skirmish with the enemy. One of our brigades charged across a field which was thick with blackberry bushes. The fruit was ripe, and as the men moved forward firing they would pick the blackberries and hastily eat them. No troops ever showed more indifference to danger, or took fighting more as a matter of course, than the veterans of the Army of Northern Virginia.
We went into camp at Culpepper Court House, and remained there a considerable time.
The army rapidly recovered its tone, and we heard that one corps of the three was to be sent to Tennessee. The choice fell upon Longstreet, who took with him Hood’s and McLaws’ Divisions of Infantry and Alexander’s Battalion of Artillery. Pickett’s Division was left in Virginia to recruit. There was much for me to do preparing for the change of base, and I was permitted to remain a day or two in Richmond on the way to the West. I stayed in Richmond at the house of Mr. John H. Tyler, the father of Henry Tyler, who was one of the Ordnance Sergeants with us, and a most excellent fellow. From the first time that I went to Richmond after I made his acquaintance, Mr. and Mrs. Tyler made their house like a home to me; and until the end of the war, and long afterward, a chair was kept as regularly for me at their table as though I had been one of their sons. Their generous and unaffected kindness to me, year after year, was more than I could ever hope to repay. God bless them.
I was a day or two later than the corps in leaving Richmond; but the cars were crowded with our soldiers, and when we reached South Carolina we received attentions which had long ceased to be common in Virginia, where the passage of large bodies of troops was an every day occurrence. At Sumter, South Carolina, a number of ladies were waiting for us on the platform, armed with bouquets of flowers and with well filled baskets of cake, fruit and more substantial fare. There was an abundance, too, of lemonade for the dusty soldiers. But the good things were for the soldiers only. Some ladies in the car were evidentlyfaint with long fasting, and a civilian who was with them asked a very pretty girl, who had a large dish of cake and sandwiches, to give him a piece of the cake for a lady in the car who really needed it. With the mercilessness which one woman usually shows to another, the fair young patriot told him jauntily that everything there was for the soldiers, and that ladies and civilians must look out for themselves. Our men were rather unaccustomed to so much kindness, in these days, but they enjoyed it thoroughly. At Augusta, and at Atlanta, also, we were most hospitably received.
I overtook the command and General Longstreet shortly after their arrival at Chickamauga Station, and we had the satisfaction of knowing that it was “the Virginia troops,” as they were called, to whom was mainly due the glory of the victory we won at Chickamauga. Our loss was severe, and Colonel Manning, my immediate superior, was slightly wounded and placedhors de combat. This left me in name, as in fact, in charge of the Ordnance Department of the corps.
I wish that I could remember precisely what took place the next day, when I went with Major Walton to find General McLaws, in the neighborhood of Chattanooga. We were exceedingly anxious that he should drive right on after the enemy, but he made the objection at once that the movement might not be successful, and would be sure to be attended with heavy loss. He said, however, that he would make the advance if we gave him an imperative order in General Longstreet’s name to do so. This order we declined to give, to my present regret, and General McLaws contented himself with asking General Longstreet to send him some more ambulances. When we reached General Longstreet late that night, and told him what GeneralMcLaws had said, his only remark was a wish that the ambulances were in a hotter place than Chattanooga. Longstreet did not love McLaws, and preferred charges against him afterwards for neglect of duty in the attack on Fort Sanders, at Knoxville.
The whole army came up, and the investment of Chattanooga began. Our head-quarters were in the low ground, which was always under water in winter, but we managed tolerably well as long as fine weather lasted. Soon the rain began to fall steadily, and it was a difficult matter so to arrange the ditches around our tents as to save ourselves from being washed away at night.
Frank Vizetelly, the artist and correspondent of theIllustrated London Times, joined us here; and with him was Captain Ross, of the Austrian service. Ross was of Scotch descent, but was born in Austria, and belonged to one of the crack light cavalry regiments. There was a good deal of merry-making, and it was no uncommon thing to see a half dozen officers, late at night, dancing the “The Perfect Cure,” which was one of the favorite songs of the day in the London music halls, and was introduced to our notice by Vizetelly.
There were sharp discussions occasionally as to what should take place when the war should be over and the independence of the Confederate States was assured. Major Walton I had always disliked heartily, and in one of our conversations he said that, when the Confederate States enjoyed their own government, they did not intend to have any “d—d foreigners” in the country. I asked him what he expected to become of men like myself, who had given up their own country in order to render aid to the Confederacy. He made a flippant reply, which I answeredrather warmly, and he struck at me. I warded off the blow, and slapped his face. The next morning I sent him a challenge by Captain Ross. Walton, however, did not want a fight at this time, and offered to make an ample apology in writing. A day or two passed, and as no apology came I sent Ross to him again. Walton now took the position that he had been hasty in his action, and that if he had not promised to do it he would not make an apology at all. Ross told him very quietly, in his quaint way, that he must please consider everything blotted out that had taken place since he had borne the challenge, and that we would begin it again at that point and settle the affair in any way that Walton preferred. This brought Walton to terms, and he made the apology I required.
The position of the army in front of Chattanooga was not as strong as we supposed, and the enemy succeeded in reopening their communications and obtaining supplies. There was no longer any expectation that we should be able to starve them out, and it was determined to make a diversion in another direction. The plan was to detach Longstreet, who should pass down the Sweet Water Valley and capture Burnside’s forces which were in the neighborhood of Knoxville. Before going away, I was exceedingly anxious to complete the equipment of our corps, but Bragg’s Chief of Ordnance, Colonel Oladowski, was inordinately fond of red tape, and I should have been in bad plight but for a quantity of Enfield rifles I had prudently brought from Virginia with me. Oladowski could outcurse any man in the army I ever met, except Jubal Early and M. W. Gary. It was one of his boasts that he had “evacuate Murphreysboro with zee whole army and lose only one grindstone.” It disgusted him, too, that Colonel Manning should have been wounded. He said to me: “My friend! what for Colonel Manning he go into zee fight?” I told him it was the custom of our Ordnance officers to do so. “I tell you sar,” said Oladowski, “he not go into zee fight for love zee country. I know! I know! he go into zee fight to get promotion and zee little furlough. Vell! vell! vell! I wish I was in h—ll ten year before dis war begin!”
I learned afterwards that Oladowski was the Ordnance Sergeant at the Baton Rouge Arsenal at the time the war began, and, of course, not a man of education or position.He was a good-hearted fellow, but I fear that after the disastrous defeat of Bragg’s army at the battle of Missionary Ridge, after Longstreet’s departure, he could not well have congratulated himself on having lost “only one grindstone.”
Early in November we left Chattanooga, and marched by the Sweet Water Valley and Loudon to Knoxville. One of General Longstreet’s most serious faults as a military commander was shown at this time. To his knowledge we were to cut loose from our communications, with no certainty that we should soon be able to re-establish them. It would indeed be easy enough to live upon the country, but we could not hope to find in the fields or the corn-cribs either small-arm or artillery ammunition. Nevertheless, he gave me no notice whatever that any extended movement was to be made, nor did he warn me that I must be prepared to supply the army with ammunition for the campaign. Not one word was said to me by him on the subject. I had an inkling, however, of what was going on, and obtained ample supplies. Had I not done so, we should have been in an awkward predicament by the time that we reached Knoxville. Had anything been lacking, it is certain that the blame would have been placed on me. It is evident that it was Longstreet’s duty, as a prudent commander, to confer with the chiefs of the several staff departments, ascertain from them what was the condition of their supplies, and inform them what was likely to be required. If he had not such confidence in them as would permit him to give them the necessary information, he should have removed them and put in their places officers whom he could trust. It is certain that he could have given the requisite instructions without divulging the details of the movement.
At Loudon we found that the enemy had destroyed the bridge across the Tennessee River and had smashed some locomotives and cars which had been left there. The process was very simple. The trains were made up, and when there was a full head of steam the throttles of the locomotives were opened, and they were allowed to whirl along the track until they reached the parapet of the bridge, whence they bounded into the river below.
Crossing the river on an unstable pontoon bridge, we found ourselves within striking distance of Burnside’s Corps at Lenoir Station. For two days there was sharp fighting with the enemy’s rear guard. Then our opportunity came. McLaws was ordered to press on to Campbell’s Station, while Hood’s Division, under Jenkins, took the road which follows the line of the railroad to Lenoir Station. Jenkins made a vigorous advance, and Burnside found it impracticable to move all his artillery and wagons. Some hundred of the latter, loaded with subsistence stores, ammunition and implements, were disabled and abandoned. The cannon powder lay on the ground four or five inches deep. It was a pleasant place where to smoke a quiet pipe, and several of my men indulged themselves in that way to my great discomfort. The expectation was that McLaws would reach the intersecting road in time to cut off Burnside, but McLaws was behind time, as usual, and we did not bag our game. General Sam Jones has just published an account of the Knoxville campaign, and I give here what he says about the failure to intercept Burnside:
The march on the 16th was a race for position, but a slow one, because of the condition of the roads. McLaws was ordered to march as rapidly as possible to the intersection of the road on which he was marching with that which Jenkins was following, in the hope of reaching it before the Federals. General Longstreet was eager to force his adversary to accept battle, and General Burnside just as eager to avoid it until he could reach Knoxville.The distance from Lenoir to Campbell’s Station is about eleven miles. Jenkins’ instructions were to press the enemy vigorously and do his utmost to bring him to bay. The advance and rear guards were several times hotly engaged, the latter halting only long enough to cover the retreat and then following. About 11 o’clock Jenkins’ division reached the junction of the two roads about a mile from Campbell’s Station. McLaws’ Division had not arrived, and the Federals had passed it.General McLaws’ orders were to move rapidly to Campbell’s Station and endeavor to reach that point before the Federals. His march during this day, the 16th, was as rapid as the condition of the roads would permit, and not materially retarded by the troops that General Hartranft had sent forward for the purpose, a small body of Colonel Hart’s cavalry keeping back the enemy’s skirmisher’s with but slight loss. By the time McLaws reached the vicinity of Campbell’s Station the Federals had been so closely pressed by Hood’s Division as to be obliged to face about and form line of battle, which they did about a mile from the station. When McLaws arrived he was ordered to deploy three of his brigades in front of the enemy and to put his other brigade (Humphrey’s) upon a ridge on his left, to threaten the enemy’s right, but not to show his division beyond the woods skirting the plain towards Campbell’s Station. Colonel Alexander placed his artillery in position and General Jenkins ordered three of his brigades, McLaws’ and Anderson’s, supported by Benning’s, around the enemy’s left flank, the movement being concealed by a wooded ridge, with instructions to attack vigorously. McLaws was to attack in front when he should hear Jenkins’ guns.This flank movement, which did not escape the vigilance of the Federals, caused them to fall back, a rather difficult and hazardous move to make in the face or an enemy. McLaws’ Division advanced promptly and brought them to a stand in their second and stronger position, about a mile further towards Knoxville. The ground over which McLaws’ and Anderson’s Brigades had to move to strike the enemy’s left and rear was very rough; over steep hills covered with a thick growth of scrub oak, which necessarily delayed them, while they were exposed to the fire of the enemy’s artillery. Before McLaws’, Benning’s and Anderson’s Brigades reached the left of the enemy’s position that position had been abandoned for the second and stronger one.General Longstreet earnestly desired a general engagement and did his utmost to compel his adversary to accept it before reaching Knoxville, rightly judging, it would seem, that to do so offered the best prospect for the success of his expedition. The opportunity was offered at Campbell’s Station. General Burnside was forced to halt there and form line of battle to cover his trains, which obstructed the road by which he was retreating. He held his position there six or seven hours, but before the Confederates could be placed in position night came on so dark and rainy that the attack could not be made. Ably seconded by his officers and the steadiness of his troops he skilfully extricated his command from a perilous position.“If,” says General Longstreet, “General Jenkins could have made his attack during this movement (the withdrawal from the first to the second position) or if he could have made it after the enemy had taken his second position, wemust have destroyed this force, recovered East Tennessee, and in all probability captured the greater part of the enemy’s forces.” When such an opportunity is lost in a campaign blame is generally attached to some one or more commanders; and this was not an exception to the general rule. But when the weather and the condition of the roads is considered it is not surprising that their movements were not as rapid as could have been wished. The weather was most unfavorable; frequent rains, especially on the 13th and 14th, had rendered the steep and rugged roads almost impassable for artillery and wagons.
The march on the 16th was a race for position, but a slow one, because of the condition of the roads. McLaws was ordered to march as rapidly as possible to the intersection of the road on which he was marching with that which Jenkins was following, in the hope of reaching it before the Federals. General Longstreet was eager to force his adversary to accept battle, and General Burnside just as eager to avoid it until he could reach Knoxville.
The distance from Lenoir to Campbell’s Station is about eleven miles. Jenkins’ instructions were to press the enemy vigorously and do his utmost to bring him to bay. The advance and rear guards were several times hotly engaged, the latter halting only long enough to cover the retreat and then following. About 11 o’clock Jenkins’ division reached the junction of the two roads about a mile from Campbell’s Station. McLaws’ Division had not arrived, and the Federals had passed it.
General McLaws’ orders were to move rapidly to Campbell’s Station and endeavor to reach that point before the Federals. His march during this day, the 16th, was as rapid as the condition of the roads would permit, and not materially retarded by the troops that General Hartranft had sent forward for the purpose, a small body of Colonel Hart’s cavalry keeping back the enemy’s skirmisher’s with but slight loss. By the time McLaws reached the vicinity of Campbell’s Station the Federals had been so closely pressed by Hood’s Division as to be obliged to face about and form line of battle, which they did about a mile from the station. When McLaws arrived he was ordered to deploy three of his brigades in front of the enemy and to put his other brigade (Humphrey’s) upon a ridge on his left, to threaten the enemy’s right, but not to show his division beyond the woods skirting the plain towards Campbell’s Station. Colonel Alexander placed his artillery in position and General Jenkins ordered three of his brigades, McLaws’ and Anderson’s, supported by Benning’s, around the enemy’s left flank, the movement being concealed by a wooded ridge, with instructions to attack vigorously. McLaws was to attack in front when he should hear Jenkins’ guns.
This flank movement, which did not escape the vigilance of the Federals, caused them to fall back, a rather difficult and hazardous move to make in the face or an enemy. McLaws’ Division advanced promptly and brought them to a stand in their second and stronger position, about a mile further towards Knoxville. The ground over which McLaws’ and Anderson’s Brigades had to move to strike the enemy’s left and rear was very rough; over steep hills covered with a thick growth of scrub oak, which necessarily delayed them, while they were exposed to the fire of the enemy’s artillery. Before McLaws’, Benning’s and Anderson’s Brigades reached the left of the enemy’s position that position had been abandoned for the second and stronger one.
General Longstreet earnestly desired a general engagement and did his utmost to compel his adversary to accept it before reaching Knoxville, rightly judging, it would seem, that to do so offered the best prospect for the success of his expedition. The opportunity was offered at Campbell’s Station. General Burnside was forced to halt there and form line of battle to cover his trains, which obstructed the road by which he was retreating. He held his position there six or seven hours, but before the Confederates could be placed in position night came on so dark and rainy that the attack could not be made. Ably seconded by his officers and the steadiness of his troops he skilfully extricated his command from a perilous position.
“If,” says General Longstreet, “General Jenkins could have made his attack during this movement (the withdrawal from the first to the second position) or if he could have made it after the enemy had taken his second position, wemust have destroyed this force, recovered East Tennessee, and in all probability captured the greater part of the enemy’s forces.” When such an opportunity is lost in a campaign blame is generally attached to some one or more commanders; and this was not an exception to the general rule. But when the weather and the condition of the roads is considered it is not surprising that their movements were not as rapid as could have been wished. The weather was most unfavorable; frequent rains, especially on the 13th and 14th, had rendered the steep and rugged roads almost impassable for artillery and wagons.
Burnside fell back to Knoxville, and we went into camp around the town. The principal defensive work was Fort Sanders, which had walls twenty feet high, with a ditch ten feet deep. Efforts were made to guard the river, both below and above Knoxville, so as to prevent Burnside from receiving supplies or reinforcements, and the works were occasionally shelled. There was a good deal of delay, for one reason and another, and we were so near the town that we could hear the tunes played by the band at Fort Sanders. The favorite air then was: “When this Cruel War is Over.” Finally, an attack was ordered to be made on Fort Sanders, but, although our men fought with their usual gallantry, they were driven back. This was on the 29th of November. In front of the fort trees had been cut, so as to fall with their branches outward, and wires had been stretched from stump to stump to trip up any assailants. Our men struggled through the abattis under a deadly fire, and some of them crossed the ditch and climbed up the parapet, but they were hurled back by the defenders of the fort, and thrown into the ditch. Hand grenades were used by the garrison with great effect. A second assault was tried, but equally in vain. These attacks cost us about five hundred men.
In one of the attacks we made, Captain Winthrop, of the 44th Foot, in the English army, who was on leave of absence, and had been with us for some time, behaved with the most brilliant gallantry. We were taking a hasty lunch in the breastworks under fire as the assault began, and Winthrop rode off to see what was going on. Finding that thetroops were advancing, he rode out in front of the line and right up to the enemy’s works, striking with his sword at the soldiers who held them. In less time than it takes to tell it he was lying on the ground with a big hole in his collar bone. It was a very painful wound, but he recovered.
The attack on Knoxville having failed utterly, and tidings having been received of the defeat of Bragg, at Missionary Ridge, Longstreet raised the siege, and retreated to Virginia. The rest of the winter we passed on the line of railroad between Knoxville and Bristol, my head-quarters being at Russellville. The men suffered frightfully. It is no exaggeration to say that on such marches as they were obliged to make in that bitter weather they left the bloody tracks of their feet on the sharp stones of the roads.
It was a bleak, desolate, inhospitable country, yet we managed to have a merry Christmas, although there was considerable difficulty in getting the requisite quantum of brandy to make egg-nog with. The medical staff had plenty of whiskey and brandy, for the sick and wounded, and a good deal of the stimulants went, I am sure, to those who did not require them. There were some stills in the neighborhood, and there was active demand for all the liquor these could supply. I have known our people to fill their canteens with the apple jack, as it dropped from the end of the worm, and drink it delightedly, as soon as by immersing the canteen in a branch they had cooled the liquor sufficiently to allow it to be gulped down. I sent Henry Tyler on Christmas Eve to a place ten or fifteen miles away to get a canteen of apple jack for our Christmas egg-nog. Morning came, and he did not return. We were very uneasy, as the woods were the favorite lurking place of bushwhackers. As one of my men explained, “there was a whacker in every bush.” In themiddle of the day Tyler turned up. Overcome by the cold or fatigue, he had gone to sleep in the middle of the road, and when he awoke in the morning he found an empty canteen by his side, and his horse standing a few paces off. But it was a hard winter, in spite of egg-nog and apple jack.
Finding that there was no probability of an early move, I asked permission to go down to Richmond for a few days. Leave was given me, but I had to ride about sixty miles in intensely cold weather, on a fiendishly obstinate and perverse mule, to reach Bristol, where I took the cars for Richmond. By this time Confederate soldiers were treated with scant respect by the railroad officials. On our way to the Sweet Water Valley, I remember the conductor quietly stopped the train and told us that we should not go on, unless we cut a supply of wood for his engine. But it was worse on the train that was to take us to Lynchburg. There was no fire in the cars at night, and I really thought I should have frozen. The men in the cars stood it as long as they could, and, when they found that the conductor would do nothing for them, they deliberately broke up the blinds of the car, and with these made a fire which furnished sufficient warmth to keep us from freezing. Had the conductor resisted, I believe the indignant Confederates would have killed him; and in that case a jury of soldiers, at all events, would have returned a verdict of justifiable homicide.
While at Mr. Tyler’s, at Richmond, I found that I had been recommended very strongly for promotion to the rank of Captain; but was informed that it was necessary that I should stand an examination before the recommendation could be complied with. It seemed rather an absurd thing that I should be required to be examined, when General Longstreet and Colonel Baldwin, the Chief Ordnanceofficer of General Lee’s army, had shown by their recommendations that I was fully qualified for the duties that I had to discharge. So I went to Mr. Seddon, the Secretary of War, and told him what I thought of it. Kind old man as he was, he listened to me very patiently when I explained to him that I had been too long in the field to know as much as a youngster who had just been graduated from college, and that if my promotion depended upon my familiarity with Conic Sections and the Calculus, I should probably remain a Lieutenant all my life. Mr. Seddon said it was necessary to undergo an examination, but he would make an endorsement upon the papers that would put me in a proper position. The endorsement was this: “The Board, in examining Lieutenant Dawson for promotion, will make due allowance for any deficiency in theoretical knowledge which may have been caused by the engrossing nature of his duties in the field.”
When I returned to head-quarters, I found that Colonel Manning had recovered; and a Board, consisting of Manning and two Captains of Artillery, was appointed to examine me. The examination was both written and oral. I was to answer in writing certain questions which had been sent from Richmond, and was then to be examined by the members of the Board. The written examination was rather wide in its scope, as it ranged from questions so simple as: “What is the centre of gravity?” and “What is a logarithm?” to such a question as this: “With a gun of a given calibre and at a given elevation, and with a given charge of powder and a projectile of a given weight, what will be the velocity of the projectile as it passes the muzzle of the piece?” My answer to some such question as this was: “I don’t know.” The oral examination was veryfunny, as Colonel Manning insisted that the calibre of a 10-pound Parrott was three inches, although I assured him it was only two and nine-tenths. As may be imagined, taking Colonel Manning’s lack of familiarity with Ordnance duty into account and the suggestive endorsement of the Secretary of War, I passed my examination with flying colors.
Colonel Manning was taken ill and obliged to leave us for a time, and there was no event of importance, except a change in my head-quarters from Russellville to Abingdon, until April, 1864, when we were ordered to Gordonsville. On our way there I stopped to see Colonel Manning, who was being taken care of at a private house at Charlottesville, and to my great joy received from him my commission as Captain of Artillery, dated April 2d, 1864.
On May 4th, Grant crossed the Rapidan, and the Wilderness Campaign began. General Lee put his troops in motion, and the next morning Ewell attacked Warren’s Corps. Grant immediately ordered Hancock to attack A. P. Hill, and the battle raged until night. The fight was renewed the next morning, when Hill was driven back in some confusion. It was a critical moment for our army. Longstreet arrived in time to change the tide of battle. Kershaw’s Division was in front, and the men were eager to show their old comrades that they had not become demoralized in the West. Without a pause, they formed in line of battle, arrested the enemy’s advance, and drove him rapidly back. General Lee put himself at the head of the troops to conduct the attack in person, but the men swarmed around him, telling him, with tears in their eyes, that he must go back, and that if he would go back they would make short work of the enemy. Everything went well with us for some time. General Longstreet ascertained that the left of the enemy’s line extended but a short distance beyond the Plank-road, and Lieutenant-Colonel Sorrell, the Adjutant-General of Longstreet’s Corps, was sent to conduct the brigades of Mahone, G. T. Anderson and Wofford around the enemy’s left, and attack him on his left and rear. They did this with perfect success, and the enemy fell back with heavy loss to a position about three-quarters of a mile from our front. It was the moment to make a bold stroke for victory. The whole of Longstreet’s Corps, with R. H. Anderson’s Division, was to be thrownen masseagainst the staggering enemy. Longstreet, withColonel Sorrel, Captain Manning, of the Signal Corps, and myself, with some couriers, rode down the Plank-road at the head of our column. Just then, General Jenkins, who commanded a South Carolina brigade in our corps, rode up, his face flushed with joy, and, shaking hands with Longstreet, congratulated him on the result of the fight. Turning then to his brigade, which was formed in the road, Jenkins said: “Why do you not cheer, men?” The men cheered lustily, and hardly had the sound died away when a withering fire was poured in upon us from the woods on our right. Jenkins, rising in his stirrups, shouted out: “Steady, men! For God’s sake, steady!” and fell mortally wounded from his saddle. Longstreet, who had stood there like a lion at bay, reeled as the blood poured down over his breast, and was evidently badly hurt. Two of General Jenkins’ staff were killed by the same volley. What others thought I know not. My own conviction was that we had ridden into the midst of the enemy, and that nothing remained but to sell our lives dearly. The firing ended as suddenly as it began, and we then learned that Longstreet had been wounded and Jenkins had been killed, as Jackson was, by the fire of our own men. It was but the work of a few minutes. We lifted Longstreet from the saddle, and laid him on the side of the road. It seemed that he had not many minutes to live. My next thought was to obtain a surgeon, and, hurriedly mentioning my purpose, I mounted my horse and rode in desperate haste to the nearest field hospital. Giving the sad news to the first surgeon I could find, I made him jump on my horse, and bade him, for Heaven’s sake, ride as rapidly as he could to the front where Longstreet was. I followed afoot. The flow of blood was speedily staunched, and Longstreet wasplaced in an ambulance. Poor Jenkins also received every attention, but remained insensible until he died.
The disaster which had befallen us arrested for a time the movement of the troops, for none but Longstreet knew what General Lee’s intentions were. Sadly riding back, surrounding the ambulance, we met General Lee, and I shall not soon forget the sadness in his face, and the almost despairing movement of his hands, when he was told that Longstreet had fallen. It was a few minutes after twelve o’clock when Longstreet was hit, and General C. W. Field, the ranking Division Commander, took command of the corps. It was four o’clock when the attack was made. By this time, the shattered lines in our front had been restored, and our movement was unsuccessful. It seemed a fatality that our onslaught should have been arrested at the moment when the promise of victory was brightest. So ended the Battle of the Wilderness, May 6, 1864.
The next day I ascertained how the sad accident had happened. The woods are very dense in the Wilderness, and the dust was so thick as to reduce every tree and shrub to one uniform shade of gray. Mahone’s Brigade, which had formed part of the flanking column, was drawn up parallel with the Plank-road, and about sixty yards from it. The 6th Virginia became detached from the regiments on its right or left, and lost its position in the woods. When the 6th Virginia, isolated as it was, heard the cheering in front, the men supposed that the enemy were upon them. Without orders one soldier discharged his piece, and a volley was then fired by the whole line, with the mournful result I have described.
General R. H. Anderson was now placed in command of the corps, and with him my relations were pleasant from the beginning. Indeed, we became close friends.
From the Wilderness the army moved parallel with Grant to Spotsylvania Court House, where we had some desperate fighting. My usual good luck followed me, and I came no nearer being hit than having a solid shot strike the place where my feet had been resting a moment before.
Baffling Grant completely at Cold Harbor, and forcing him to abandon the line on which he had promised to “fight it out if it took all summer,” we found ourselves, early in June, on our way to Petersburg, crossing the river at Drury’s Bluff. We had with us the divisions of Pickett and of Field, and were to move down the Turnpike towards Petersburg, to occupy the lines from which General Beauregard had withdrawn. This was on June 16th. It was a delightful day, and General Anderson and his staff rode on a considerable distance in advance of the troops. There was no more expectation of encountering the enemy than we should have of finding him in the streets of Charleston. When we neared Chester, however, a Major Smith, who was in haste to reach Petersburg, and had gone on ahead, came tearing back “bloody with spurring and fiery red with haste,” and without his hat. We were at a loss to understand what this meant, and he had not breath enough left to tell us at the moment. As soon as he could speak, he said that near the point where the railroad crossed the Turnpike he had seen the Yankees in the woods as thick as bees; and a party of them was then engaged in tearing up the line of railroad which formed the only means of communication between the Confederate capital and Petersburg. He was fired at, but his horse alone was hit; and it was alucky escape for us. Had we jogged on very much farther we should have found ourselves in the hands of the enemy, who, it seems, had pushed up from Bermuda Hundreds, on finding that the lines in front of them had been vacated, and were about to make good their occupation of the railroad. We halted in the road until the leading regiment of our column came up, when it was deployed in the woods, and advanced until it struck the enemy. The next day an effort was made to recover our lost line; and on the 18th Pickett took it with a rush. Kershaw had gone on to Petersburg. There we had our head-quarters until near the end of June.
Petersburg had changed very much from the quiet, peaceful, drowsy looking city it was when I first knew it. But it was an agreeable place to be in, for one reason at least. During the Wilderness campaign our rations had been reduced to five ounces of bacon and twelve ounces of corn meal daily, and the country was so bare that no additions could be made to our scant fare. At Richmond and Petersburg there was little difficulty in obtaining provisions of every kind, the joke being, however, that housekeepers took their money to market in a basket and brought home in their pockets what they had bought for dinner.
The Petersburgers had accommodated themselves to the changed conditions with curious completeness. Shell frequently fell in or passed over the city, and it was no uncommon thing for old citizens, standing in the street discussing the prospects of the day, to step quietly around a corner until an approaching shell had passed by, and then resume their former place without even suspending their conversation. The basements of houses were used in many instances as bomb-proofs, the traverses being composed of mattresses and bedding.
From Petersburg we went back to the North side of theJames River, and on July 28th captured a piece of artillery and some prisoners near the Long Bridge Road.
Early in August General Anderson was summoned to Richmond for consultation with President Davis and General Lee; and on August 7th we took the train for Mitchell Station, where Kershaw’s Division soon arrived, and three days later Fitz Lee’s Cavalry Division came up.
I should mention here that my friend Mr. Raines had suffered a terrible loss. The enemy made a raid through Sussex County and carried off a number of his negroes and nearly the whole of his horses and mules. Fortunately, the raiders feared that they might be cut off if they took the road by Belsches’ Mill-pond to the Plank-road, and they did not pass by Mr. Raines’ residence, which, therefore, was not destroyed. One of my riding horses which I valued very highly was carried off by the cavalry. Mr. Raines and his family were not at home at the time, having gone to Mechlenburg County, where his son-in-law, Dr. Wm. H. Jones, resided. While I was at Petersburg I became very unwell, and our Medical Director, Dr. Cullin, told me that there was only one prescription that he knew of that would cure me quickly, and that was a leave of absence. Leave for fifteen days was given me, and I started off in an ambulance to Sussex. When I reached there I found old Davie, the butler (a counterpart of our own Levy, although considerably older), in charge of the place, and the family absent. This did not daunt me, although I was sadly disappointed. I hired a buggy and went on to Mechlenburg. The plantation of Dr. Jones was near Boydton, and I remained there about two weeks. The family consisted then of Dr. Jones and his wife, the eldest daughter of Mr. Raines, and their little daughter Anna; with Miss AnnaRaines and Miss Patty Raines, the daughters of my old friend; and Frank and Nat, his sons. Miss Pinkie Morton and Miss Hattie Morton, nieces of Dr. Jones, and his wards, were also there. The plantation was large and valuable, the principal crop made on it being tobacco of a fine quality. I found at the plantation a thoroughbred Belshazzar colt, which I had bought in Tennessee; a fancy looking cream-colored animal, with a long mane and tail, of which I expected great things. His career was brief, and not particularly glorious. When the Yankees made a raid through Boydton, after General Lee’s surrender, they visited Dr. Jones’ house and carried off my Belshazzar colt. He was loose in the pasture, and they had considerable difficulty in catching him, as he jumped over the fence whenever they got him in a corner. It was only by surrounding him that they caught him at last.
The conduct of the Yankees at Dr. Jones’ was infamous in the extreme. Mrs. Jones was on her death-bed, but the soldiers, after tying Dr. Jones and putting him under guard, forced themselves into her bed-room, and there in her presence broke open her bureau and carried off what valuables they could find. It was well that they did no worse.
The object of our expedition to the Valley, to which I now return, I have never thoroughly understood, but I presume that it was to act in concert with General Early, and do what mischief we could. From Mitchell Station we moved through Culpepper and Flint Hill to Front Royal. The weather was so beautiful that it was hard to believe that we had any serious business before us. An effort was made to obstruct our passage of the Shenandoah, a river which is aptly named, if ever river was. With its clear waters dancing and sparkling in the autumn sun, it deserved itstitle as “Fair Daughter of the Stars.” Wofford’s Brigade was sent forward to attack the enemy’s cavalry, and, according to our joke at head-quarters, “Wofford swung his right and made a water-haul.” Seriously, he was charged by the enemy, who had driven back our own cavalry, and was compelled to retire with heavy loss. I think that his Ordnance officer was among the killed.
The enemy withdrew, and from Front Royal we marched down the Valley in pursuit. I then realized, as never before, the devastation of war. Columns of smoke were rising in every direction from burning houses and burning barns. Each time that we lighted our pipes that day, it was with the burning embers taken from the ruins of what a few hours before had been a happy home. The brutal Sheridan was carrying out his fell purpose, and was soon in position to boast, ruthless braggart as he is! that “If a crow wants now to fly over the Valley of Virginia, he must carry his rations with him.” It was the penalty that the Virginians of the Valley paid for their devotion to the Confederacy, and, despite their fearful losses, the time never came when a Confederate soldier could not obtain a crust of bread from any Southern family there. They always contrived to have something left, and whatever they had they were ready to share with the ragged and hungry Confederates.
On the march, by the way, there was an exciting incident. General Anderson, with the staff and couriers, was far ahead of the infantry column, and we had a squadron of cavalry as our escort and advance guard. A couple of shots were suddenly fired, and in an instant our cavalry broke and came clattering to the rear. The indignation of General Anderson was painful to see. He cried out to ourcavalry: “What manner of men do you call yourselves,” and putting his hand involuntarily to his side, said: “Oh, if I had my sabre!” Turning to his staff and couriers, he said: “Charge those people in front,” pointing to the blue-coated cavalry, who were as much astonished at coming upon us as we were at meeting with them. It was a mutual surprise. The staff with the couriers dashed at the handful of cavalry who had driven in our advance guard, and we had a glorious race down the Turnpike to the suburbs of Winchester. I think we captured four or five Yankees, without any loss on our side, and my share of the plunder was a very good McClellan saddle and a small sum in greenbacks. It was only fair, I suppose, that we should confiscate the greenbacks which we found in the possession of the men we captured, as we expected them to take possession of what money we had whenever we were captured. It is true that Confederate money was not likely to be as useful to them as greenbacks were to us, but it would not have been patriotic to make any distinction between the two currencies. I had paid $5 in Richmond for blacking my boots, and the negro who performed the office would have felt himself well paid if I could have given him instead a ten cent Yankee shin-plaster.
Near Charlestown, on August 26th, the enemy felt our position to some purpose, and captured about one hundred men belonging to the 15th South Carolina Regiment, of Kershaw’s Brigade. Then we marched and counter-marched and danced about in every direction, with no definite object apparently, until September 3d, when we moved out from Winchester, and attacked the enemy near Berryville, and drove him away. It was at this time that the whole command could have been gobbled up. We had only Kershaw’sDivision with us, the cavalry having been sent offon a reconnaissance. The enemy, in overwhelming force, came upon us, and General Anderson reached the conclusion that nothing but audacity would save us. Presenting as bold a front as if the whole of the Army of Northern Virginia were with us, and bringing our wagon trains right up to the line of battle, he opened on the enemy with our artillery. To our great surprise and relief the game was successful, and the enemy drew off. General Early arrived the next morning, and his first salutation was: “General Anderson, those Yankees came mighty near getting you yesterday.” General Anderson’s only reply was: “Yes General, and it is not your fault that they did not.” It was a strange business anyway. General Anderson ranked General Early, but did not wish to take command of his troops, as he would necessarily have done had the two commands operated together. The result was that the two commands swung corners and chasséed in every direction to no good purpose, that any of us could see. It was a delightful sort of military pic-nic, and in that sense everybody enjoyed it.
In September we were ordered back to Culpepper, and the march through the Luray Valley, in delicious weather, put us in excellent spirits. General Anderson said to me one morning, looking up at the blue peaks which were frowning down upon us, that it wouldbe the heightof happiness, for him, to lie on the top of one of those mountains all day long and roll rocks down its rugged sides.
The day before we reached Culpepper I found myself very nearly afoot. Two of my horses were missing, and so was my servant, Aleck. This boy had been with me from the time that I returned from Fort Delaware, and was as faithful a servant as one could desire to have. He hadcharge of my clothes, and generally kept my purse. No one could have been more conscientious and trustworthy than he appeared to be; but he was gone this time, and so were the horses. Taking one of the couriers, an Alabamian, named Spencer (who was afterwards appointed Aide-de-Camp to Colonel Sorrell, when that officer was promoted to the rank of Brigadier-General), I rode back in pursuit of the runaway. For two days and nights we kept on his trail, but were unable to overtake him, and as we were uncomfortably near the main body of the enemy’s troops, we returned to Culpepper, finding that our people had reached that place just in time to drive off a raiding party which had pounced down upon the village. Long afterwards I met Aleck in Petersburg, and asked him what he meant by stealing my horses. He grinned and said: “Mas’r Frank, I didn’t go for teef dem horse, but dere was a gal back dere in Winchester I was bound to see, and when I git dere de Yankee tek my horse and I couldn’t git away again.” This excuse served as well as any would have done.
Kershaw’s Division was sent back to reinforce Early, and we went on to Richmond and thence to Swift Run, between Richmond and Petersburg.