In February, 1861, the State of Tennessee voted against secession
by the overwhelming majority of 68,000; but a military league,
offensive and defensive, was entered into on the seventh day of May,
1861, between commissioners appointed by Governor Harris, on the
part of the State of Tennessee, and commissioners appointed by the
Confederate government, and ratified by the General Assembly of the
State, whereby the State became a part of the Confederate States
to all intents and purposes, although an act was passed on the 8th
of June for the people to decide the question of separation and
representation or no representation in the Confederate Congress.
In the meantime, troops had been organized and made preparations for
war. The election was a farce, as the State had already been taken
out of the Union and had formed an alliance with the other States of
the Confederacy.
The leaders of the Union element, comprising the best talent of East
Tennessee, had not been idle. The most prominent Union leaders at
that time were Andrew Johnson, Thomas A. R. Nelson, W. B. Carter, C.
F. Trigg, N. G. Taylor, Oliver P. Temple, R. R. Butler, William G.
Brownlow, John Baxter and Andrew J. Fletcher. These men, with all
their eloquence and ability, failed to accomplish the task of holding
Tennessee in the Union.
The State commenced organizing troops, and as Lieutenant-Colonel of
the Militia I was urged by the leading rebels of my county to make up
a regiment for the rebel army. I refused to do so, and from that time
on I was considered a Union man.
I was appointed by the School Board to teach school. When the
Legislature met a law was passed exempting certain persons, such
as school teachers, blacksmiths and millers from the Confederate
service. Of course I came under the law and was exempt, and I wanted
to keep out of the rebel army. I had just married and did not want
to go North and leave my family until I was compelled to go. At that
time very few men had left the State for the North.
In a short time the exemption law was repealed, and every man from
eighteen to forty-five years of age had to join the rebel army or be
conscripted. I was teaching school, but did not know of the repeal
of the law; so in a day or two the rebel soldiers came to the school
house and arrested me, and took me by way of my home, which was about
two miles from the school house, in order that I might see my wife,
as I requested.
When we reached my home my wife came to the door, and did not display
any excitement. She was a brave Union woman, and knew that they
had a hard customer, and that I would never fight for the Southern
Confederacy. I wanted to have a private conversation with my wife,
but they refused. I did not know when I would return, for they were
killing men by hanging or shooting them every day, and taking others
to Tuscaloosa. I just told my wife to go to her father and remain
with him until I returned.
I will here relate a little incident that occurred while under
arrest that evening, showing the way the rebels treated Union men.
My brother-in-law was a rebel, but a nice man personally. He lived
on a farm of about one hundred acres, adjoining the farm I lived on,
and I can safely say that there was a cross-fence every two hundred
yards through his farm, and no bars or gates to go through. I was on
foot, and the rebel soldiers put me in front to lay down all these
fences for them to pass through, and made me put them up afterward.
Of course I obeyed orders, for every man was armed and wanted me to
do something that they might have an excuse to shoot me.
When we passed out of the field into the woodland, we had to go
through a deep hollow. When we reached the place, it was dark,
although in the daytime. About the time we reached the middle of the
hollow one of the soldiers, in a low voice, said to another, “Dave,
this is a good place!” I listened, expecting to hear the command,
“Halt!” but no reply was made to the remark. No one can imagine how
I felt. I had just left my wife standing in the door of our little
log cabin, watching the soldiers driving me through the field, taking
down and putting up all the fences, as heretofore stated; I thought
of my mother and my sisters, whom I should probably never see again.
This was all in about a minute of time, but it was a terrible minute
for me. However, the soldiers continued to drive me along until we
came in the evening to the home of Henry Kilgore, the conscript
officer, which was about two miles from our home. He took my name,
and registered it on the conscript rolls. I was then considered a
rebel soldier.
It was dark when we arrived at his house, and we had to remain until
morning. There was a bed in the corner of the cabin, and I believe
some beds on the second floor. The kitchen was about ten yards from
the log cabin. They gave me my supper, but I had little appetite. I
had known the conscript officer all my life, but he did not recognize
me, and I will speak of him further on.
About eight o’clock I found they were going to have a “hoe-down”
that night, and the men and women of the neighborhood were invited
to come. They began to arrive about nine o’clock. I pretended to be
sleepy, and an officer who was guarding me ordered me to get into the
bed in the corner of the cabin. Of course I was under orders, and I
crawled in—but no sleep for me.
They had a man with a violin, and commenced dancing, four at a
time, face to face—a general hoe-down. They kept their drinks in
the kitchen, which they visited often. They began to get tired and
commenced singing
“I want some more of your weevilly wheat,
I want some more of your barley.”
They danced and enjoyed themselves by running around in the house
after each other, and the women would jump on my bed and trample over
me. I thought at times I would be trampled to death, but I was pretty
hard to hurt at that time and I was mad to the core.