SECOND YEAR OF THE WAR.
Ewell then fell back to Orange C. H., and we joined him there for future
orders. Capt. Duchene and Capt. White, of Ewell’s division, married two
young ladies in Fairfax Co. and brought them in a fine carriage driven
by a white man, on up to Orange C. H. They were there at a private
residence boarding and would often drive out to the camp and when we
were tearing down tents and getting ready to go to the Valley, these
ladies asked me if I’d seen the Captains but I hadn’t and we began
inquiring and no one had seen them for a few hours, and we learned
afterward that they had resigned their positions, put on citizens
clothing and had gone to parts unknown. The ladies, of course had
nothing to do but to return to their homes.
We crossed the Blue Ridge at Sneeger’s Gap in a down pour of rain and
pitched our tents at Elk Run church. The rain ceased that night, so we
were ordered to clean up the encampment next day which was Sat. Sun.
dawned clear and calm and we all had the privilege of attending the
church services. The afternoon was spent in sleep, or rather a part of
it. We were aroused by screams from the east end of the encampment and
we looked and saw men shooting out from under their tents and capsizing
some of them in their mad rush. We inquired for the trouble and some
said a snake had crawled over their faces, and others that the devil was
in the tent. After a number of tents were overthrown and all the men
awakened, nearly, we found that the trouble was a large black snake
running over the men while asleep. He ran in a muskrat hole, so no one
had the pleasure of killing him for breaking our rest.
We remained here a few days and scouting parties were sent out every day
across the mountain, and as far down as Linden Station to see if the
enemy was approaching.
The cavalry that was engaged in this vidette line, picketted on the
Shenandoah River and were often routed by the enemy. Some of the men
didn’t stop until they got clear out of the country.
About this time we had a re-election of officers and Col. Munford was
put in command of our whole regiment, where as he had only commanded
half, and Col. Watts was elected Lieut. Col.
On the 3rd of May, when the regiment was near Linden Station, 13 of us
were left at Flint Hill, several miles distant, to have our horses shod,
and as we were going on to overtake the command, we met a man galloping
up the road. Serg. Lemon, who had charge of us, met the man first and
let him pass, but when he reached me I ordered him to halt, as I saw he
was a northerner. But he fell flat on his horse and swiftly made a turn
in the road, so we didn’t pursue him. He dropped a nice gum coat in his
wild rush, which we didn’t fail to get.
We were in Rappahannock Co., and there were a great many stone fences,
and I told Serg. Lemon we had better get out into the open on a high
point and see if we could locate any forces of the enemy. We hadn’t gone
any distance until we saw Gen. Gary with a division of Inft. and a
regiment of cavalry, making his way from Front Royal to Richmond. We
soon overtook Col. Munford and notified him of Gen. Gary’s movement and
he waited until night fall and passed through Flint Hill, and took
another road leading to Madison C. H. We camped and kept watch.
The next day some of Gary’s men came out in sight and Munford sent a
couple of companies to cut these men off from the command and capture
them, and when we got to a rock fence where we thought we could cut them
off, we found the fifth Mich. Inft. lying just behind the fence. They
raised up right at us and our horses were stopped so suddenly that six
of the men were thrown and captured.
When Major Cary Breckinridge, who was in command of us, saw the trap we
were in, he ordered us to “left about wheel,” and just in the act of
turning, a bullet that was aimed at me struck C. C. Cahoon, the man next
to me in the arm.
We had to retreat about 400 yards in full view of this whole regiment
and they were firing at us all the time. But they were excited and
overshot us and only the one man was wounded. My horse was struck on the
foot and had to make three-fourths of the distance on three feet. The
roll was called after we got back, but only the six men of Franklin Co.,
had been captured.
After awhile three independent scouts came up, Williams, Lamar Fontain,
and Farley—S. Carolina and Mississippians. They wanted a dozen
sharpshooters to go to where some Yankees were doing a lot of
depredating, killing cattle, etc. I was sent among the others to within
about 500 yards of where they were and we could see the hill beyond blue
with Yankees.
We fired four or five shots each before they had time to protect
themselves, and killed and wounded a dozen or more, but then had to
retreat for our own safety.
The next morning I was sent with C. C. Cahoon, William Henderson and
George Zimmerman, who had been wounded by their horses falling with
them, except Cahoon, who was shot, to Madison C. H. I led their horses
and took $100. to pay their expenses on the road, but we were so kindly
treated by every one that I didn’t have to pay a penny. Mrs. Gen Kemper
had charge of the hospital and took care of the men.
I took my horse, which had been wounded, to the horse pasture and got
another and returned with the ambulance, in several days.
The command was moving, but Gary reached Richmond and was killed in the
first battle around Richmond.
We next went back and joined Ewell in Luray county, and went on toward
Front Royal, where there was a U. S. garrison. We joined Jackson at
Front Royal, and Col. Ashby, with the first Va. regiment, attacked the
enemy here and drove them back with heavy loss. The 2nd Va. regiment was
to the right and didn’t receive as heavy firing as the 1st Va.
There were two Maryland companies In the 1st Va. cavalry and they were
eager to bring on the attack, as the Maryland infantry held the
position.
The cavalry made a charge through a wheat field and the regiment of
infantry was lying down in the wheat, and when the cavalry came near the
infantry arose and slew a number of our men. Col. Ashby then ordered our
men to charge with drawn sabers, which they did, with considerable
slaughter. This was our first charge with drawn sabers. The enemy
retreated to Winchester, about four miles distant. The remainder of the
day was quiet except picket firing.
The next day, which was Sunday. Gen. Ewell advanced from Front Royal
with his division of Infantry and Gen. Jackson advanced from Strasburg
with a division of Infantry, also. The country was generally fenced with
stone fences and both armies made use of the fences as fortifications.
There was a rock fence running parallel with the fences occupied by both
armies, and each army was ordered to advance to this middle fence. The
Confederates beat the enemy to the fence and opened a deadly fire on
them. The enemy was so near the fence that they lost heavily before they
could retreat and re-cross the fence used as their fortification.
The Confederates followed them on into the town, and just as we entered
the village a lady began ringing a church bell, giving us new zeal, and
the cavalry was ordered to charge after they had gotten through the
town. This they did with heavy loss to the enemy and considerable loss
to us. We could have captured a great many more men, but they lined up a
lot of wagons and set fire to them, completely blockading the road. We
could not pass the fire, of course, and could not tear down or cross the
rock fences rapidly enough to pursue to any advantage. However, we drove
the enemy to Harper’s Ferry.
We remained at Harper’s Ferry several days and while we were there Gen.
Banks was removed and Gen. Shields appointed in his stead. Gen. Banks
had command of the northern forces at Winchester, and the command was
given to Shields just after the battle.
While we were at Harper’s Ferry Gen. Jackson received word that Gen.
Fremont was advancing on Harrisonburg from the direction of Parkersburg,
aiming to pen him. So Jackson made a force march, marching day and
night, in order to get to Harrisonburg before Fremont.
Shields rapidly followed us, but our men kept holding him in check. We
were sent on at the head of the army, as the cavalry could make much
better time. We arrived one day ahead of the infantry and rode two miles
beyond Harrisonburg in the direction of Parkersburg, and fortified.
Gen. Ashby maneuvered so wisely, that John C. Fremont, (the old woolly
horse), thought he had to fight Jackson’s whole army and was preparing
for same. While he was preparing for a general attack, Jackson passed
through Harrisonburg and went in the direction of Port Republic.
When Fremont made the attack, we retreated hurriedly through
Harrisonburg, and Fremont censured his English General, Percy Windam,
for allowing Ashby to deceive him that way.
Windam pursued us and made his brags that he would capture Ashby before
the sun went down. He attempted it and Ashby made the same attempt at
him. Windam ordered a charge, but his men wouldn’t follow him and he ran
into our lines and we captured him. Just as we captured him, Gen. Ashby
was killed. A confederate brigade was ordered back to help us and quite
a number of our men were killed, but not so many as of the enemy. This
is known as the battle of Harrisonburg. Night came on and put a stop to
hostilities for a time.
The cavalry pickets were stationed all around, but the next morning just
after sun rise, the enemy began to advance again. Gen. Ewell’s division
took a stand near a little village called Cross Keys. Gen. Fremont
marched against him with a force more than double the number of his. At
about 10 o’clock the battle began and raged until about four. Fremont
was completely whipped and never made another attack.
Jackson, now thinking his way was clear, continued his march to Port
Republic. But when he arrived, to his great surprise, Gen. Shields had
come in on the east side and stationed a battery to guard the bridge to
prevent Jackson from crossing. Jackson rode up to the men commanding the
battery and told them to move the guns back to another position, which
would be better, and these men didn’t know who Jackson was and obeyed
the order, and Jackson went back and marched his men on over the bridge.
He went on down the river with his and Ewell’s divisions to meet
Shield’s main army. We, of the 2nd Va. cavalry was left in the rear to
hold Fremont in check, and as soon as Ewell’s and Jackson’s men crossed
the bridge they burned it. Of course our cavalry could cross without the
bridge but they fired it to stop Fremont’s infantry and artillery. The
waters of the Shenandoah were especially deep at this time, but we
crossed unharmed.
When Jackson reached the Lewis House he found that Shields had taken the
very position he was aiming to get. He had stationed 18 pieces of
artillery in an apple orchard around the Lewis House. It was on a hill
and commanded three ways.
Gen. Branch with his brigade was ordered down the Shenandoah, at the
water’s edge. Gen. Trimble was ordered up at the foot of the mountain,
his men being concealed by the timber. Jackson’s brigade came down the
river about a half mile from Branch’s men, on a road running parallel
with the river. Since Gen. Ashby’s death, Gen. Stewart from Maryland,
was commanding Ashby’s men. Stewart’s men were ordered up to the right
of Jackson’s men and in full view of the Lewis House and Shields’ whole
army. Shields had taken his position and of course Jackson had to make
the attempt to move him from it.
Jackson had sent a regiment up a ravine about 400 yards from the house
and right in front of the battery. They were entirely concealed in a rye
field. About 200 yards behind this regiment was another regiment also
concealed in the rye. Neither of these regiments knew the other one was
in the field, and when the signal guns were fired for all to advance,
and the men nearest the battery raised up, the regiment in the rear of
the rye field fired on them, not knowing they were our men, and killed
about 300 before they found their mistake. Both regiments quit firing
and concealed themselves again.
Trimble, Branch and Jackson, advanced a part of the way, but when this
confusion occurred between the two regiments in the rye field, Jackson’s
whole army seemed demoralized. They thought, probably all those men in
the rye field were men supporting and protecting the battery.
The attack ceased for an hour or so, until Jackson could notify his men
of the plan, and when the second signal guns were fired, they advanced
from the three sides.
Brigadier Dick Taylor had been ordered up nearer the batteries than any
one else, and when the signal guns were fired, Taylor’s men marched
right up and took the guns. Shields sent reinforcements and took them
back from Taylor, and Jackson reinforced Taylor and he took them the
second time.
Shields reinforced again and took them back from Taylor the second time,
and Jackson ordered reinforcements and Taylor took them the third time
and held them.
Trimble’s whole force had come down from the mountain and Branch from
the Shenandoah, with Jackson right in front of the battery. The cavalry
had been ordered to charge, by this time, and we drove them, with heavy
slaughter, ten miles down the river.
By this time Fremont, who was on the west side of the Shenandoah, and
the bridge burned, you remember, had gotten a position and fired a few
guns, but we had driven Shields so far down the river that he could be
of no help to him then.
As we were coming back from driving Shields, Jackson sent out a skirmish
line and re-captured all of our men, about 100 in number, who had been
taken prisoners, and their guards. Thus ended the battle of Port
Republic.
As my horse was wounded at Gains’ Cross Roads, and I wasn’t well myself,
I was sent home the 17th of June, after being out 18 months. I was not
able to enter the service again until Oct.
The people of the community got me to go as a guide with about ten
wagons, to the Salt Works at Kanawa, W. Va., while I was at home. I went
ahead of the wagons with several other men from our county, who were
going on the same errand.
When we got to the top of Sewell Mountain, we spent the night at a hotel
called Locust Lane. When we awoke the next morning we found a six-inch
snow on the ground. We regretted the snowfall so much, but to our glad
surprise, when we went about six miles beyond and at the foot of the
mountain, we found no snow at all.
The next night we stopped at Tyree’s Hotel. The lady of the house was a
sister of Mrs. Dr. Williams, of Fincastle, so we felt perfectly at home.
Wyatt’s Hotel, near Mauldon, was our next stopping place.
There were thousands of barrels of salt and a number of government
wagons, and a large number of oxen for sale. So we planned to buy some
of the salt and haul it back to Botetourt and turn the wagons over to
government use there. But to our surprise, at mid-night, before we could
carry out our plans, we heard wagons rumbling and were told that Gen.
Floyd, who had driven the Yankees from the Salt Works to Charlestown,
was falling back. While we were still talking Gen. Floyd and his staff
came to the Hotel and ordered breakfast.
Gen. Floyd wanted a courier to go to the Hawk’s Nest, a place about 30
miles distant, and hurry all the wagons on to the salt works; but after
arriving at the Hawk’s nest, to turn all the wagons back.
I volunteered to act as courier. At first he was afraid to trust me, but
after questioning me until he thought he knew me sufficiently, he had a
dispatch written and gave me to notify the wagon drivers to hurry on and
load the wagons, and they would be put across the Kanawa on the ferry
and sent by way of Cotton Hill. The mountain road was so narrow that
these teams were sent this way to avoid meeting the other wagons.
I was ordered to shoot any man who wouldn’t obey orders. Floyd knew that
he could get the wagons within the 30 miles, loaded and across the river
before the Yankees could overtake them, but it would take too long for
the wagons to come from beyond the Hawk’s Nest.
I met my teams right at the Hawk’s Nest and ordered them back. The
dispatch also stated that all loaded wagons beyond the Hawk’s Nest, were
to sell half their load to empty ones. This they all did. Some were
heavily loaded and were just creeping along.
After dividing up loads, we continued to carry out orders, which was to
travel all night and not stop to feed our teams until we passed two
roads, known as the Sat. and Sun. roads, where the Yankees were supposed
to pass. We kept turning empty wagons back and overtaking loaded ones
and dividing up, until we reached Lewisburg, in Greenbrier Co. We were
about two weeks making the trip. This was the only time I had any
experience with, or was in the western army.
Every letter that went to the boys in the eastern army, I think, told of
my trip to the Salt works, and the boys began to think I ought to be
back fighting instead of guiding wagon trains.
The boys showed the letters to Capt. Breckinridge and he ordered me to
be brought back by an officer. Sheriff Linkenhoker, when he got the
letter from Capt. B—, came to me and told me his orders.
I told him that Xerxes’ 6,000,000 men couldn’t take me back under
arrest. I told him I was going back soon, that I wasn’t yet able to ride
on horse back, so far and constantly.
The next day I went to the army surgeon, Dr. Mayo, of Buchanan, and
showed him the order and he remarked that “they are a set of fools, you
are here under a legal certificate.” I had three certificates from the
family physician of my inability for service, but in Aug., Gen. Lee had
passed an order, that no certificate could be recognized except from an
army surgeon, so I had been to him in Aug. and twice since that time, so
held three of his certificates in Dec.
Dr. Mayo gave me a recommendation to either be discharged or detailed
for light duty. I’d been suffering from congestion of the liver and was
broken down in general. Dr. Mayo told Capt. Allen, who was at the head
of affairs in Buchanan to give me transportation on the train as I
wasn’t able to make the trip on horse back. On the 20th of Dec. I
started back to Fredericksburg, where my company was stationed. I was
detained at Lynchburg several days so didn’t get to Guinea Station, near
Fredericksburg, until New Year’s day ’63. I went directly to the Capt’s
tent and the first thing he said when he saw how bad I looked, was,
“what in the world have you come back for?” I showed him the letter he
had written to the sheriff, Lewis Linkenhoker. He said he had written
this on account of what those home letters had said. He said I was unfit
for service, but as they were in winter quarters and not fighting much,
I’d have an easy time.
I then went to Col. Munford’s tent and he greeted me with the same
question. I replied by showing him the Captain’s order to be sent back.
The Col. said I had been reported to him as absent without leave. I then
showed him my certificates from both Drs. Col. Munford remarked: “Well,
I’ll stop this proceeding right here, you shall not go before a
court-martial without a cause.”
I told him that I preferred going before the court-martial; that I
wouldn’t gratify these parties, who had circulated the false reports
about me, enough to show them the certificates, but I wanted a lot of
gentlemen to see why I’d been absent.
The early part of the New Year was taken up very largely to straighten
up the work of the old year.
In a few days about 75 of us went to Massiponix Church, in Spottsylvania
County, where the court-martial was in session.
Capt. William Graves, of Bedford Co., was there with his company,
guarding the prisoners. He had been commander of the sharpshooters the
first year of the war and I had been one of them. He assigned the
prisoners to different tents and told me to remain with him.
It was a month before our turn came to appear before the court, so he
gave me leave to visit my friends all over the army of Northern
Virginia.
When our turn came, I went before the court and Captain Breckinridge
presented the papers to the court. They asked me if I had an attorney
and I told them I hadn’t but handed them first my detail and sick
furlough, then my certificates from my home Dr., Sam Carper, of
Fincastle, and then the certificates from Dr. Mayo, the army surgeon. I
then showed them Gen. Lee’s order for all soldiers to be examined by an
army surgeon, they could see by the dates that I’d seen Dr. Mayo on the
day following, and when Dr. Carper’s certificate had only half expired.
I then showed them the order to the sheriff to bring me back under
arrest.
They asked me if I had any witnesses. I told them I had one, Capt. B.
whom I’d asked to please remain until I called for him.
After reading the papers I asked Capt. to please state to the court just
when I’d enlisted and what kind of a soldier I’d been while in service,
etc. He stated that I’d volunteered at 19 when a school boy, and that he
had joined the Co. the 20 of May 1861. He said during the 13 months he
had been with us he wouldn’t ask for a better soldier than I’d been.
I was dismissed, but didn’t hear my sentence until a month later. When
the last man of our regiment was examined, we returned to camp.
As I couldn’t carry arms until my sentence was heard, I wasn’t liable to
duty. But I volunteered to go into Stafford Co., with a detachment, to
try to capture some of Gen. Averill’s pickets. We captured about 25 of
them and as we were returning, the enemy began charging the rear of our
command, and the sharpshooters of the 1, 2, 3 and 4 regiments, were sent
to the rear to check the advance.
Our skirmish line went back and aimed to get to a little town of vacated
winter quarters, and I saw a soldier riding a beautiful dappled gray
horse, so I made in that direction and was ordered to dismount and
advance on foot. Not thinking that the man had gotten so near, just as I
started around one of the cabins, the man called to me to halt and
surrender. I threw up my hands, of course, as he had his gun right in my
face, but even after doing this he snapped his gun at me. It was snowing
very hard and the gun failed to fire, and fearing that my gun would be
like his on account of the dampness, I drew my pistol on him, so he
surrendered to me.
As I took him back, I had to pass through the sharpshooters of the 3rd
regiment, and three of them had seen the man try to shoot me after
throwing up my hands. They wanted to shoot him right there for the
cowardly act, but I told them two wrongs never made a right, and
wouldn’t allow them to harm him. I took him on back to Col. Ryles, who
had charge of the prisoners.
When we crossed the Rappahannock on our return, we were ordered to lie
down for the night. This we did; we put our gum cloths down on the snow,
then a blanket, and had a blanket for a cover. My prisoner and I shared
the same bed that night, but before we went to sleep, the three men who
wanted to kill the prisoner, came and apologized to me and the man, for
wanting to deal death to him for the error he had made. We accepted the
apology and they went back to their men with much relief.
The next day, the 17th of Feb ’63, we went to Stewart’s headquarters and
turned the prisoners over to him and they were sent on to Richmond
immediately. Gen. Stewart made me a present of the beautiful horse I’d
captured and she was my faithful companion for the remainder of the war.
I brought her home with me after the war closed.
We all returned to the camp ground and remained about ten days, when we
were called out for a dress parade.
After all the orders were read out for the next day’s proceeding, the
results of the court-martial were read next. One man who was found
asleep on picket duty, was sentenced to be shot. As he was so young and
a good soldier Col. Munford reprieved him and gave him a good, fatherly
lecture, and the man was a faithful soldier for the remainder of the
war.
Finally they came to my sentence. I was charged with being absent
without leave, but was found innocent of the charge and honorably
acquitted. As is usually the case, the first men to come and
congratulate me on my honorable acquittal, were the very ones who had
caused the false reports to be started. I thanked all alike, but knew
all the time who caused the disturbance.
As the weather was bad and no drilling or fighting going on much, the
main thing to break the monotony of camp life, was picketing on the
grand old river, Rappahannock.
On the night of the 16th of March, I had a dream of being in a battle
and of having to retreat, and while doing so, mired in the mud and was
captured. I told the dream at breakfast the next morning and they all
laughed at such a dream.
While we were still at breakfast, the orderly sergeant came around and
notified us to get ready immediately to go down to Kelly’s Ford on
picket.
We expected a good time for three days out on the outpost, but was kept
at the village of Kellyville, all that day. There were about 40 of us
scattered around, but in hearing distance of each other. Some of us were
in hay mows, some in outbuildings and some in a mill, to spend the
night.
A load of guns and 40 rounds of ammunition was sent us, about the time
we were fixing for sleep. Those who had no guns got one from the lot and
we were ordered to clean up the others, ready for use.
After we had them all cleaned the Capt. inspected them and if any of our
guns were not good, they were sent back and a good one taken from the
new lot. We were eager to get to sleep, but instead of that at 4 o’clock
we were ordered to go down to the ford of the river.
We rolled our blankets up and tied them on the horses and were ordered
to mount and fall into columns of four. No. 3 of each column, was to
hold the horses. After Nos. 1, 2 and 4, gave their bridle reins to No.
3—Nos. 1, 2 and 4, were ordered to dismount. This being done, we formed
into columns of four again, and were ordered to march on to the river
bank, about four hundred yards.
There had been a heavy rain just before this which finished up with a
snow about five inches deep. This was still on the ground, but the river
was swollen from the rain until it was deep fording on horse back.
The wind was blowing from the north and the thermometer suddenly fell to
about zero. When we reached the breast works at the river, some of the
rifle pits were filled with snow and ice, and those that were not, were
soon filled with men, but some of the men had to just stand and get the
best position they could.
At about an hour before daybreak we saw a light that we first thought
was the morning star rising, but the light increased and we almost
instantly found it was the camp fire of the enemy, being kindled, making
ready for an early breakfast to come and attack us.
At daybreak they were coming in sight of the ford. Gen. Averill with a
division of cavalry and 15 pieces of artillery soon stationed themselves
on the heights commanding the ford and commenced a heavy fire on us.
In about ten minutes Averill ordered his men to advance. They came right
to the ford, not knowing that we were there, and we opened fire on them
from behind the breast works and drove them back with considerable
slaughter.
Then Averill charged with another regiment, but we drove them back also.
He then charged a third time, just about sun-rise, and by that time
three companies of the 3rd regiment, commanded by Capt. Moss, had
reinforced us, and Capt. Breckinridge, thinking we had enough men to
hold them back, ordered us not to fire until they got into the middle of
the river.
Gen. Duffe, commanding a French brigade, had the majority of his men in
and near the river before we opened fire. Several men were shot from
their horses and the horses rushed right out of the river and over our
breast works. Some of them killed themselves on the stockades. When Gen.
Duffe got within about ten feet of the bank, his horse was shot and the
Gen. came very near being drowned. When his men rescued him he was
unconscious.
By this time so many of his men had crossed the river that Capt.
Breckinridge saw they would over-power us, so ordered us to fall back.
Some of our men didn’t hear the order and remained in the breast works
and were captured.
We fell straight back from the river under a heavy fire all the time and
the men with the horses couldn’t well get to us on account of a fence
and the heavy firing. Those on the extreme left had so much farther to
go than the others, that they couldn’t get the horses to them at all. I
was with the dozen or so, that was on the extreme left, and just as I
saw the man with my horse coming toward me, I noticed a little piece of
ground fenced off right between us, which to go around would take some
little time longer to get to my horse, so I just kicked off a pole and
jumped over, to save distance, you understand, and to my utter
amazement, I found I had jumped into a bed of quicksand.
Four Yanks were pursuing us as rapidly as they could and when they saw I
had been caught in the sand, they rushed right on around the fence and
drew their pistols on me. I had managed to get out of the sand by the
time they got to me, but in doing so, had nearly dislocated one of my
hips, so couldn’t run. The man with my horse saw that if he stopped to
help me, he and the horses too would be captured, so had gone on knowing
I’d be captured—the realization of my dream—only caught in quicksand
instead of mud. I immediately surrendered, of course, but found that
three of the men to whom I had surrendered were beastly drunk.
By that time our line of battle was coming in sight and the three
drunken men rushed on for fear of being captured by our men. I held to
the mane of the horse that my captor was riding and as we went back
several Yanks shot at me. The man told me to get on the opposite side so
they could not see me so well. One man shot at my hand as I held the
horse’s mane and missed my hand and shot the horse in the neck. They
were drunk and enraged because we had shot their General’s horse and he
came so near being drowned. They were saying d— you, you killed our
General! Some of them thought he was killed.
When we got right to the river, I saw a lot of men standing around a
Gen. who was lying on the ground, and I told the man who had captured me
that if he would take me over there, they certainly wouldn’t fire among
them. It proved to be Gen. Duffe who had been resuscitated and was just
able to stand up as we got to him.
The man told the Gen. that there was a man he had captured and asked him
what he must do with me, and the Gen. just reached out and hit me over
the head with the gauntlet of his glove.
He asked me why we dared to fire on his command with our picket? I told
him we were ordered to hold the ford and would have fired on Hooker’s
whole army if it had advanced. Then he hit me again.
I told him I hadn’t any idea of receiving such treatment from a U. S.
Gen. Just then one of his aids said to me to come with him and he took
me down the river a little ways, where about 20 more of our men were who
had been captured this same day, March 17.
As we went down the river the aid apologized for the General’s conduct;
said he was drunk and would never have acted that way when sober. The
aid was an American, while Duffe and the majority of his men were
French.
The man who captured me was from the 1st R. I. regiment and I told him
about the man and fine horse from that regiment that I’d captured just a
month before, and he said the man was from his Company.
Just then I was ordered to fall into line with the other prisoners, but
I took time to thank the two men for their kindness to me before falling
in.
There was a company of cavalry on either side of us when we started
across the river, marching in columns of four.
We halted a little when we got to the water’s edge, but were soon
ordered to “forward march,” and we knew that meant we must go through
that water if it was full of mush-ice and deep fording. As I was a small
man I was ordered to get between two large men, and we held to each
other and marched through. A Mr. Powell and Mr. Shepperson, from near
Charlotte C. H. marched on either side of me.
Matt Linkenhoker and I had made such an effort to escape being captured
and to get to our horses that we were about as hot as a “ginger mill in
August.” But strange to say, wading that river didn’t make us sick in
the least. The water was just over our shoulders. I remember how the
mush-ice and water ran down my coat collar. You can imagine how pleasant
that would be, in March and zero weather.
It looked hard but some of our men had made the Yankees wade the river
about a month before; but it wasn’t more than knee-deep where they
waded. I guess they thought it no more than right to retaliate. All is
said to be fair in love and war.
As soon as we crossed, one company went back to join the command and the
other company took us about four miles to a hotel where Gen. Ryles had
been ordered to hold the Yankee prisoners about a month before. We
remained here a few hours awaiting future orders. Our clothing had dried
while we were marching. We stopped and poured the water from our boots
soon after crossing the river, so we were very comfortable by this time.
The lady of the house and her three pretty daughters came out to look at
the prisoners, as they had a month before, and one of them recognized
me. She came to me and asked me if the Yankees got my pretty gray horse,
too. I told her she had escaped and how I came to be captured.
We soon heard the firing of the artillery back at Kelly’s Ford. Gen. Lee
had taken a position on the heights above the ford and Averill made an
attack on him. Gen. Stewart had been ordered from Fredericksburg up to
Culpepper C. H., to attend a court-martial, and went with Lee as a
spectator and not as a commander. He and Major John Pellam rode in front
of Lee’s lines and the Yankees seeing him thought his whole corps was
there and began to fall back at once, under fire from our forces, and
lost a great many men in the retreat, and a few were captured. Some of
our men were captured also, and among them the gallant Major Cary
Breckinridge.
The couriers ordered the guards to hurry us on to Falmouth, then
Hooker’s headquarters. We arrived at about an hour before sun-set, and
about 9 o’clock the whole army returned.
We remained here three days and on March 21, ’63, were paroled and sent
on the Fredericksburg & Aquia Creek Road, to a station called Aquia
Creek. There was a boat landing here and we took a boat called “The
State of Maine,” for Washington. Here we were put in the city prison on
the second floor in the basement.
There were 75 of us and all put in one room. There were bunks on the
walls and benches for seats, but still our quarters were not
comfortable, as the men above us had bored holes in the water pipes and
didn’t have them sufficiently stopped, and water was running down the
walls and over all the floor except a little place in the centre large
enough to spread a blanket.
We were kept here until the next day when they sent us to the Old
Capitol prison. We were all put in the same room again, but the quarters
were comfortable and alright. We had pork and beans, coffee and baker’s
bread, good enough for any one.
As I was disabled by being caught in the quicksand, and was still very
lame, the guard allowed me to go all over the barracks. I had to see the
Dr. often, so I had a very pleasant time going around. Dr. had given me
a pass, also, to go any where inside the barracks. The barracks was a
Park of 3 or 4 acres and was said to contain 10,000 men. Rebels and
Yankees together.
We had a full view of the street and often saw the Congressmen and
President Lincoln pass by. The sentinel would often tell us when
different important persons passed, which was a pleasure to us, to help
pass time. We were given quite a lot of good literature to read, and
altogether, we had a much better time than when in service. It paid to
be a prisoner that time, certainly.
While we were there a lot of Yankees were raiding in the Valley of Va.
and a lot of Confederates were raiding also, and the two forces met and
a good number of the Yankees were killed. There was quite a lot of talk
about it, and it seems that the Yankees thought the citizens had gotten
the soldiers to attack them in some unfair way. So a lot of citizens
from the valley, were summoned to come to Washington as witnesses in the
case. They were brought to the barracks and put in with us. The Johnnie
Rebs were all glad to see them. We called them fresh fish, and had to
initiate them, of course.
One of us would go to a citizen and get him to talking and telling us
about the affair, and the other boys would begin crowding around close
by to hear, and we’d say “boys don’t push,” which meant to push and
crowd more, until we got our fresh fish in such close quarters that some
of them would get fighting mad. When he would laugh and enjoy it with
the rest, that was a signal to give way.
Dr. Lucas, from Frederick Co., was a large fellow; weighed more than two
hundred, and he got the maddest of all until he understood the joke, and
then he was the best fellow we had to help initiate.
We all enjoyed playing pranks on each other. I named myself the “limpy
lame dog,” and they all treated me about as considerately.
Some of the boys sighed and worried over having to stay in prison, but
situated as I was, I enjoyed it. We only remained 16 days. There was a
boat load of soldiers from Johnson’s Island to be exchanged and as it
wasn’t a full load, they telegraphed to the Old Capitol that they could
take about 75 more men while making the trip. Straws were drawn to see
which room would be sent to exchange, and our room got the “lucky
straw.”
The boat that carried us was called the “Prairie Flower.” A beautiful
boat it was too. We had fine sailing until we got within about six hours
ride of Fortress Monroe. Here a heavy snowstorm overtook us and the boat
was compelled to anchor.
After the storm ceased and we could see the light-house, we made the
rest of our journey in safety. We couldn’t see at night, of course, but
when morning came we found ourselves in sight of the guns of Fortress
Monroe. We remained here three days and nights, as the wind was still
blowing such a gale that the ship had to remain anchored.
When we arrived at City Point, our exchange point, as we marched out,
another boat load of Yanks were marched in to be taken home, and we were
sent on to Petersburg by rail.
Here we were put in a big tobacco ware house, which was hardly suitable
for mules or billy goats, but there wasn’t any other convenient place
near by. There were several very large barrels in the building and I
told the boys that mother said I was always her best child to find out
what was in anything sitting around. So I took my pocket knife and began
dissecting. To my great pleasure I found they contained sugar and we
soon ate all of the sugar that tasted good in that barrel.
I talked to a citizen through the cracks of the building and told him
that he’d better help to hunt a place for me for some of the boys had
cut a hole in a barrel in there and had eaten lots of his sugar. The man
left and soon came back with the information that there was a barracks
about a half mile distant that we could occupy that night, so we went
over, and such a place as it was. We had to stay all night as it was so
late when we got there, but it was only a good place for bats and hoot
owls. He consoled us by telling us that supplies would be sent in from
Richmond and they were, early in the night.
When we got our supplies it proved about like the surroundings. Well, we
didn’t know what to call it even. Couldn’t think of a name in the
English Language to call it. It had been bread and meat once, but had
been sent from “God knows where,” as the old woman said about the rail
road, and was just poured into a corner of a box car and was of course,
about like hog feed.
We had been locked in the barracks and we just said if we were not taken
out we’d break the old shack down and go on to Richmond, so we were soon
notified that a train was ready and we gladly got on board for Richmond.
The cars that took us were cattle cars and the engine must certainly
have had a genuine case of tuberculosis, because it tried faithfully to
whistle, but couldn’t make a sound. We would gladly have gone on, or in
anything, to get back though.
Well, we arrived in Richmond in grand style, of course, and the next
morning took a train for Culpepper C. H. When we got to Culpepper C. H.,
Col. Munford had orders to make a raid toward Manassas Junction, but we
couldn’t go on the raid as our exchange papers hadn’t arrived and
therefore Col. Munford had no control of us. He told us to go home for
our horses and he would send our furloughs as soon as he could.
We took the train next morning for Lynchburg and when we were found to
have no furloughs, we were stopped there for further orders. We wrote
Col. Munford that we were under arrest, and to send the furloughs on. I
happened to have a cousin by the name of Linkus keeping the Washington
Hotel, and he went my security, and in that way I, with two other boys,
got to spend our time with him.
Before I heard from Col. Munford, Gen. Devon sent for us to come back to
the soldiers home, that he wanted to send us as guards for some
deserters and Yankees that had been captured in the Western army.
He gave each of us a pistol and when we arrived at Richmond, the man who
had charge of us handed the papers to Gen. Winder, and we took the
Yankees to the Libby Prison and put them in charge of the officials
there. When we went back to Gen. Winder’s headquarters, with our
deserters, he told the Serg. to take us all to Castle Thunder. As the
deserters had the same uniforms we had, he naturally supposed we were
all deserters, but four of us were the guards for the others. As I was
the oldest of the guards, I, of course, had to try to explain the case.
But when I tried to do so, he told me to hush, that he wouldn’t talk to
a deserter, and ordered the Sergeant to take us on.
This the Sergeant refused to do and a general racket followed. General
Winder told another sergeant to take all of us, even our sergeant,
because he wouldn’t obey him, to Castle Thunder. But he went to a
Lieut., who was there on detached service, and who knew some of us, and
had him to come and explain the whole affair to Gen. Winder.
He accepted the Lieutenant’s account, of course, and gave us four
guards, transportation back to Culpepper C. H. He told the sergeant to
take the real deserters on to prison, Castle Thunder, and in the
stampede he had caused by trying to send us all, the deserters had every
one gotten away.
When we got back to camp at Culpepper C. H., our exchange papers had
arrived and Col. Munford gave us furloughs, so we made a second attempt
to get home for the horses.
When we got to Lynchburg we learned that Gen. Devon had been removed
from office and Gen. Colston put in his stead.
We went on to Bonsacks the next day and left the train and took dinner
with Geo. Riley, who had three sons in our command. Mr. Riley was not at
home, but Mrs. Riley sent us to Fincastle on horses.
When our furloughs expired, I took my valuable gray horse back, that I
had captured, about 2 months before I had been captured. Alonza
Rinehart, John Young and William Henderson, were my companions back to
camp.