TO TAYLORSVILLE—AT CHAFIN'S FARM—TO
NORTH CAROLINA—MARCHING THROUGH
SWAMPS AND SAND—THE CAPTURE OF
PLYMOUTH—COMPANIES C AND G
HAVE SERIOUS EXPERIENCES—INCIDENTS
OF THE BATTLE—THE
GUNBOAT "ALBEMARLE"—COL.
JAMES
DEARING WINS
PROMOTION—ON
TO WASHINGTON, NORTH CAROLINA—NEWBERNE
INVESTED
TO TAYLORSVILLE
In the early fall of 1863, the brigade now commanded by Gen. ("Buck") W.
R. Terry, General Kemper being disabled by wounds received at
Gettysburg, moved down towards Spottsylvania County, and later, about
the 1st of October, 1863, went into camp near Taylorsville, Hanover
County, which seemed a favorite stopping place. I remember on this march
I wore a pair of new boots. My feet becoming sore and blistered, I had
to fall back in the rear. I took off the boots and walked in my socks
until the sand worked through, when the bottoms of my feet began to burn
as if walking on hot embers. I then took off my socks and walked on,
barefooted, until the sand and gravel began to wear away the cuticle,
when I put on my boots without socks, and limped on, coming up with the
command after dark, which was bivouacked by the roadside.
The brigade remained at Taylorsville until about the 1st of January,
1864, guarding the railroad bridges over the North and South Anna
rivers, and doing picket duty to the east down on the Pamunky. I
remember while on picket that fall, the weather was delightful, the
atmosphere pure and clear as that under the far-famed Italian skies, and
how the boys used to watch the morning-star as it rose high in the
heavens, keeping track of it as late as 10 and 11 o'clock A. M., when it
could be seen plainly with the naked eye, by knowing exactly where to
look, some one always keeping it in sight.
The command was quite comfortably situated here, some building huts or
"dog houses" and chimneys to tents, and as the picket duty was not very
arduous, we had a pretty good time, though rations were scarce. My
memory is at fault as to the time the brigade was in camp below Richmond
at Chafin's Farm, nearly opposite Drury's Bluff. At any rate, we were
there at one time, and relieved Gen. Henry A. Wise's brigade. Here we
had a fine camping ground in high, level fields, and expected to remain
some time, but did not tarry very long. While here I visited the
batteries at Drury's Bluff, and saw the big guns mounted there, pointing
down a long stretch of the river half a mile or more. The men here said,
that lower down on the bluff other big guns were in position near the
water's edge, which, they declared, "could blow clear out of the water
any Yankee gunboat that attempted to pass up the river." The Yankee
gunboats at one time attacked this place, but were driven off in short
order. The Confederate ironclad gunboat, _Patrick Henry_, lay at anchor
in the river just above the bluff. This I also visited, going on board,
and inspecting the little monster, small though formidable, with its
ribs of railroad iron, and big guns. I was struck with how neat and
clean everything was kept—spic and span as any ladies' parlor or
drawing-room—the floors highly polished, the brass work clean and
shining, and the officers and crew very polite, taking pains and seeming
pride in showing visitors over the boat.
Soon after we arrived at Chafin's Farm I went on some errand for General
Kemper or General Terry (I forget now which was in command) to Gen.
Henry A. Wise's headquarters. I had seen General Wise before and had
heard him speak more than once, but had never met him. I was struck with
his polite and pleasing manner, and the courtesy with which he received
me. But the man of the most pleasing and delightful manners I met during
the war was Col. Isaac H. Carrington, provost marshal of Richmond. I had
occasion once to visit his office on business and was perfectly charmed
with his urbanity not profuse or embarrassing to a visitor, but
delightfully easy and pleasing was his manner; I am sure he was a born
gentleman.
I should have stated before, that in the early fall of 1863, soon after
the brigade and the other brigades of Pickett's Division had been
detached and sent to Taylorsville, thence below Petersburg, Longstreet
and his other two divisions, Hood's and McLaw's, were also detached and
sent to Tennessee, where they rendered distinguished service in the
battle of Chickamauga, and later at Knoxville.
TO NORTH CAROLINA AGAIN
On the 10th of January, 1864, the brigade embarked on the cars at
Petersburg for Goldsboro, N. C, via Weldon; remained at Goldsboro until
near the last of the month, going thence to Kinston, on Neuse River.
About the 1st of February the brigade, with other troops under General
Pickett, marched to New Berne, lower down on the Neuse. The town was
invested and there was some fighting, some outposts taken and prisoners
captured as well as considerable stores, but the town was not attacked,
nor was the Eleventh Regiment actively engaged, though at one time the
brigade was drawn up in line of battle, and all thought that we were
going into a fight. I remember as the line was being formed, seeing the
drummers with their drums slung over their shoulders going back to where
the surgeons had selected a position for the field hospital, to assist
the doctors. I remarked to some one that if I lived through the war, I
intended to have all my boys learn to beat the drum. Whenever the
drummers and the cavalry were seen going to the rear, some one was sure
to say, "Look out, boys, we are going to have a fight." The troops
marched back to Kinston, thence to Goldsboro, where we remained until
the 20th of February, when we again marched to Kinston.
About this time, I got a twenty-days' furlough and went home. Many of
the officers and men got furloughs during the winter, as there was
little or no fighting going on.
MARCHING THROUGH SWAMPS AND SAND
We lived pretty well while marching and tramping around through the
swamps and sands of Eastern North Carolina, but some of the marches were
very trying. In places the roadbeds were worn down a foot or two; in
rainy weather the roads would be full of mud and water half-leg deep,
through which we tramped for miles on a stretch, the roadside being
closely bordered with thick-growing bushes and intertwining vines; it
was impossible to avoid the slush and water. Often when a particularly
muddy stretch of road, or a big, deep mudhole was encountered, some wag
would call out, "Boys, you have been looking for a soft place, here it
is." By the "soft place" was meant an easy, bomb-proof detail, where
there was no fighting, picket or guard duty to perform.
Some of these marches were made in the night time, when the men would
splash and flounder along through the mud, some swearing, some laughing
and cracking jokes, and ever and anon, the "Bonnie Blue Flag," "Dixie,"
or some other patriotic song would be started, when the woodland would
ring for miles with the songs, and the echoes go rolling through the
swamps and marshes.
In some sections the roads ran through high and dry lands, the roadbeds
filled with loose, white sand, over which the marching was very
laborious; sometimes through the long-leaf pine turpentine orchards, as
they were called—great forests of tall pines, the bark from two sides of
the trees being scraped off, with steel-bladed knives on long poles,
many feet from the ground, so that when the sap rises it exudes freely,
running down the trunks of the trees into deep notches near the ground,
cut with long-bladed axes, made for the purpose, and then dipped out
into buckets and conveyed to the turpentine distillery.
During the winter these scraped-off surfaces are incrusted with dried
rosin, which burns freely when set on fire, the blaze running up the
trees many feet. On these night marches sometimes the soldiers would
apply the torch to the rosin-covered trees along the roadside, when the
woods and country around would be lighted up, the flames leaping up the
tall pines to the very tops; the long, gray moss hanging in festoons
from the branches of the live oaks interspersed among the pines, the
glare of the long streaks of flame reflecting on the white sand,
scintillating like carpets woven of silver threads and sprinkled with
tiny diamonds; the gloom off in the woods beyond the penetration of the
light, and anon the hooting of the big owl and the scream of the
nighthawk—all brought to mind scenes described in fairy tales, where
witches and goblins in fantastic attire and shapes participate in high
carnival, reveling with kindred spirits in some vale of tangled
wild-wood, deep hidden and embossed in the gloom, save for the glare of
the torches of the devotees—while the gray lines of the soldiers, like
grim spectral figures stalking along betwixt the blazing trees, the red
lights flashing from their burnished muskets and bayonets, reflected on
their begrimed faces, resembled gigantic and uncanny figures moving
amidst the flames of some plutorion realm.
These high, sandy roads traverse the country between Goldsboro, Kinston,
and Tarboro.
While I was on furlough, the command went by train to Wilmington, thence
by steamer down Cape Fear River to Smithville, opposite Fort Fisher,
camping on the seashore, where the men feasted on oysters and fish.
After the expiration of my furlough I returned to the command, which
was, when I left home, still on the seashore, but on my arrival at
Wilmington I met the brigade on the return trip up the river on the way
to Goldsboro, where we remained until the 1st of April, then marched to
Tarboro on Tar River, when some one started a report that "Tar River was
on fire," but the report, like many others circulated in the army,
proved untrue. These rumors were called "grapevine dispatches," and were
about on a par with the weather man's reports of to-day. While at
Manassas the first year of the war a report was circulated that the
Black Horse Cavalry had captured the Yankee gunboat _Pawnee_ on the
Potomac River.
THE CAPTURE OF PLYMOUTH
On the 15th of April, 1864, the brigade, with other troops—infantry,
artillery, and cavalry, under the command of Gen. R. F. Hoke, of North
Carolina—marched on Plymouth, which was captured on the 20th of April,
with a brigade of Yankees, and large quantities of stores, arms, and
provisions. Our little army lived high for a few days, literally
feasting on the fat of the land. While besieging the town, Company C and
Company G of the Eleventh Regiment had an experience worth relating; a
very trying and disastrous one it was, too, for these two companies,
which I will presently relate. Plymouth is situated on the south bank of
Roanoke River, not far from where it empties into the Albemarle Sound.
The Yankees had erected several forts and redoubts around the place, one
of which, Fort Warren, was about a mile up the river and not in sight of
the town. When the town was invested, Terry's Brigade, except the
Twenty-fourth Regiment, which went below near the town, was placed in
front of this fort, which could not be seen from where the lines were
first formed, for the woods intervened. As soon as the lines were
established, Company C was detailed for picket duty and placed along the
farther edge of the piece of woods in which the line was formed. I
walked out in the field to see what could be seen, and pretty soon came
in sight of the Yankee pickets to the left, one of whom took off his cap
and waved it; I did not return his salute. About that time there
appeared beyond the Yankee pickets, still further to the left, what I at
first thought was a train of cars. While I was looking on in
astonishment, a puff of smoke burst from the supposed train with a loud
boom and shriek through the air, which I at once recognized as a cannon
shot and shell. I divined at once, that what I had taken for a train of
cars was a Yankee gunboat steaming up Roanoke River, though I could not
see the river for the high banks. I don't know whether that shell was
fired at me or not—they may have just been "shelling the woods"; I was
the only Confederate in sight of the boat in the direction which it was
fired. If it was, it was a poor shot, it went high overhead and crashed
into the woods beyond. I did not run, but am pretty certain I ducked my
head, and walked back to the picket line; I did not return the
salutation of the Yankee picket, but bowed to the shell. It was very
hard to keep from dodging when a shell went by, or a minie ball whizzed
close. I heard a story on one of our generals who, on one occasion when
his men were dodging at the minie balls, upbraided them, saying, "Stand
up like men and don't dodge," when pretty quick a shell came very close
to the general, who ducked his head. The men began to laugh, and the
general said, "It is all right to dodge them big ones."
The gunboat steamed on up the river out of sight. That afternoon or the
next morning the Confederate pickets advanced nearer to, and in sight of
the fort, wading through a swamp in the woods for several hundred yards
from half-leg to knee-deep in water, to the edge of the field in which
the fort was situated, some 800 or 1,000 yards away.
The companies took daily turns at this duty while the siege of the town
lasted.
COMPANIES C AND G HAVE SERIOUS EXPERIENCE
Now I come to the relation of that trying and disastrous experience
mentioned above. The scare I had from the Yankee gunboat and shell was
as nothing compared to this. One morning before day, Company C and
Company G were aroused from sleep, called to arms, and received
instructions from Colonel Otey, coming from General Terry, to "march out
in the field in front of the fort to within musket range, open fire and
keep down the Yankee gunners while the Confederate battery shells the
Yankees out of the fort." Company G was commanded by Lieut. James
Franklin, of Lynchburg, and I, being the senior officer, had charge of
the expedition. As soon as the orders were received, off we started.
Wading through the swamp, we came out at the picket posts at the edge of
the field when the first streaks of daybreak could be seen in the east.
Company G had not yet gotten out of the swamp. It being important to get
position as near the fort as possible while it was yet dark, I at once
deployed Company C in skirmish line and moved forward, leaving word with
the pickets for Company G to come on as soon as they got through the
swamp.
We marched on in silence until within about 400 yards of the fort, when
all at once, without any warning, or even saying, "by your leave," the
Yankees let loose the dogs of war upon us, with, as it seemed to me, all
kinds of guns and shot, big and little—shells, grapeshot, canister, and
minie balls. At this warm and sudden salutation, the men fell prone to
the ground. Thinking that we were not close enough to the fort to do
much execution with muskets, I gave the command, "Forward," when every
man rose to his feet and rushed forward some distance. When the command,
"Lie down and commence firing," was given, this was at once obeyed.
About this time Company G came up at double-quick and joined in the
firing. All the while the Yankees were pouring it into us, killing and
wounding a good many. Here the two companies lay out in the open field
without any protection whatever, without a tree or rock, stump or log to
shelter them, firing at the fort until after sun-up, while the
Confederate battery was trying to shell the Yankees out of the fort.
They were only trying, sure enough, for I could see the shells bursting
high in the air over the fort, while never a one entered or exploded
near it. I had sent back for more ammunition, some of the men saying
their supply was running short from the rapid firing, but before the
messenger returned I concluded the right thing to do was to get away
from that place as soon as possible; so I gave the command, "Skirmish in
retreat; double-quick, march," which was done in full double-quick time.
Sad to say, we left five or six men, good soldiers, dead on the field,
while a number of others were wounded.
Company C lost two good men killed, as follows: Bennett Tweedy, Wm.
Monroe, and I think another, whose name I do not remember. Among the
wounded was Abner Bateman, who had his right arm shattered above the
elbow. A section of the bone was removed by the surgeon, so that
afterwards he had an extra joint, as it were, in his arm. Company G lost
several men also. That night a detail was sent out and brought off the
dead bodies, which were buried down there in the sands of the Old North
State, where, no doubt, they still lie mouldering into dust, if not
already dust, ere this.
I remember when we came back to the line of battle that morning, F. C.
Tweedy, a brother of Bennett, who from some cause had not gone with us,
came to us and said, "Where is Bennett?" Some one replied, "Bennett was
killed." "Ferd" then threw up his hands and exclaimed, "Oh, my God!" I
shall never forget the agonized tone of Ferd's voice; it was if his very
soul was pierced through and through.
This fort was manned by 200 men with muskets, besides the big guns,
32-pounders, mounted on the parapet; also had sandbags arranged along
the parapet, so as to form loopholes for muskets. These 200 men in the
fort, well protected, were shooting at the 75 or 80 men laying out there
in the field, without the slightest protection—an equal contest indeed!
I have always thought it a "fool order" that sent these companies out
that morning.
It was said afterwards, and no doubt true, that a little lieutenant who
had been doing some scouting, suggested the project to General Terry.
This lieutenant was standing out in the field alone while the firing was
going on that morning, some distance from the firing line, when the
Yankees took a crack at him with a charge of grapeshot, one of which
struck him in the heel and maimed him for life. We did not know that he
was anywhere near, nor that he had been wounded until after the fighting
was over. When it was known that he had suggested the "fool project," I
don't think he got much sympathy from any one.
On the 20th of April, the troops near the town, by an assault on and
capture of the forts near the place, compelled the surrender of the
enemy. We could hear the fighting going on down the river a mile away.
All at once the firing ceased and cheering commenced, when the men began
to say, "They are cheering—sh! sh! Listen, listen! See which side is
cheering!" It was not long before the "Rebel yell" was recognized, then
all knew the day had been won, when the troops above sent up a mighty
shout in answer to their comrades below.
Pretty soon two men in a small boat was seen pulling up the river
towards Fort Warren; all knew it meant the surrender of the fort, and it
was not long after they landed before the Stars and Stripes were hauled
down, and a white flag run up in its place. Another mighty cheer went
up—the "Rebel yell"—three times three. It was a glad time when "Old
Glory" slid down the flagpole. Col. Jim Dearing and a Yankee officer
were in this boat.
The brigade marched down and took possession of the fort and garrison.
Some of the Yankees said they wanted to see the men who came out in the
field that morning, and lay under their fire for nearly an hour. They
saw them and greatly admired such courage as was then and there
displayed. They only lost one man, their best gunner, who was shot
through the body while aiming one of the big guns. The brigade with the
prisoners then marched down to the town, where the other prisoners and
Confederate troops were assembled, when congratulations and good cheer
among the Confederates were exchanged; all feasting on the good things
to eat and drink captured in the forts and town.
THE GUNBOAT "ALBEMARLE"
The capture of Plymouth was greatly aided by the Confederate ironclad
gunboat, _Albemarle_, built at Weldon, and commanded by Captain Cooke,
of the navy, which dropped down the river as the troops marched by land,
the movements of each being timed so as to coöperate in the attack. The
_Albemarle_ glided by the upper fort in the night-time, the night after
the troops invested the town, dropping down the river near Plymouth,
where the Yankees had three gunboats lying in the river.
The Yankees in Fort Warren, which is situated on the river bank, said
they saw the _Albemarle_ as it passed down the river that night, and had
their guns trained on it, but did not fire, thinking it was one of their
boats which had passed up the river that afternoon, which I have already
mentioned, but had returned by another channel, unknown to the occupants
of Fort Warren.
These Yankee gunboats were the _Southfield_, the _Miami_, and the
_Bombshell_. There were three other forts on the land side of the town:
Fort Williams, Fort Wessels, and Fort Comfort. Captain Cooke lay at
anchor until daylight. The Yankees during the night became aware of his
presence, and made preparations to give him a warm reception when day
dawned. They conceived the idea, so it was said, of fastening the ends
of a long chain to two of their gunboats, with which they proposed to
drag off the anchor of the _Albemarle_, by running a boat on either side
of it. Captain Cooke heard the hammering on these boats during the
night, and divining their scheme, when daylight dawned, turned the prow
of the _Albemarle_ towards the _Southfield_, one of the boats to which
the chain was attached, with full steam ahead, and struck the Yankee
boat with terrific force, sending it to the bottom at once.
Captain Cooke then turned on the _Bombshell_, which surrendered. The
_Miami_ was next attacked, when it made its escape by flight down the
river. Her captain was killed, and some of her guns disabled before she
got out of range.
By this bold and successful stroke of the _Albemarle_, the whole river
front of the town was exposed to the fire of the gunboat, and it may be
depended upon that Captain Cooke made good use of the advantage thus
gained. I heard General Wessels, the Yankee commander, after the
capitulation, berating the gunboats for their failure to protect his
water front, attributing his defeat and capture to this. This may have
been true, but I hardly think so. General Hoke was a fine soldier and
officer, had gone there to capture Plymouth, and would have been almost
sure to have succeeded without the aid of the _Albemarle_, but would
have no doubt lost many more men than he did. The Confederate loss was
small.
It was said that there were some negro soldiers at Plymouth, who took to
the swamps, were pursued by Dearing's Cavalry and left in the swamp,
dead or alive; none of them were taken prisoners, or brought out of the
swamp. Some of the prisoners captured were identified as deserters from
the Confederate service; a court-martial was convened later, and several
of them were hung. These men were North Carolinians.
COL. JAMES DEARING WINS PROMOTION
Col. Jim Dearing, of Campbell County, won his brigadier-generalship at
Plymouth. He was put in command of the artillery and cavalry by General
Hoke. Dearing was a dashing officer, and in this battle performed his
part with great skill and bravery, charging a fort with artillery,
running the guns by hand right up to the fort, pouring shot and shell
into it until the white flag was sent up. The first day he surprised, by
a quick dash with his troopers and artillery, another fort, running in
on the Yankees so suddenly that they had no water to cool their guns,
and could only fire a few rounds, when they sent up a white flag.
General Dearing was mortally wounded in a hand-to-hand fight with a
Yankee officer a few days before the surrender. This officer also
received his death wound in the encounter. It has been said that General
Dearing was shot by one of his own men, who was trying to shoot the
Yankee officer. Dearing was brought to Lynchburg where he died in a few
days.
MARCH ON WASHINGTON, NORTH CAROLINA
After securing the trophies of the victory won at Plymouth, which
consisted of 1,600 prisoners, 2,000 muskets, and 25 cannon, and a large
quantity of ammunition and provisions, and sending them up the country,
General Hoke and his little army marched on Washington, situated about
30 miles south of Plymouth, on Tar River, near the head of Pamlico
Sound. The town was reached about the 25th of April. The troops formed
in line of battle, ready for the attack, when it was found that the
place had been evacuated by the Yankees, who doubtless had heard of the
fate of Plymouth and its garrison, and fearing lest they should share a
like fate, had decamped, bag and baggage.
NEWBERNE AGAIN INVESTED
From Washington the command marched towards Newberne, situated, as
before said, on Neuse River, not far from where it also enters into
Pamlico Sound, some 35 miles still further south.
On the 2d of May, the town was invested and preparation made for the
attack, when orders were unexpectedly received to withdraw and march up
the Neuse to Kinston with all possible speed.