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 evidently faint 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 placed _hors 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 General McLaws 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 the _Illustrated
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 answered rather 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.