FOURTH YEAR OF THE WAR.
We remained at that camp until the morning of the 4th of May, when we
tore down our tents and started to Spottsylvania C. H. When we got there
we were ordered out to take a place near Todd’s Tavern, where we were
ordered to fortify.
In a few hours Gen. Sedgwick, with the 19th army corps marched against
us. A desperate fight ensued. We fought from behind our log
fortifications; he charged again and again during the whole day, but we
continued driving him back. Our loss was light, as we were well
fortified, but the ground over which they charged was left blue with
their slain. Gen. Ulysses Grant had already been appointed
commander-in-chief of the Yankee forces and was now in Spottsylvania Co.
His motto was “never to give up,” so he reinforced Sedgwick the next day
with another army corps, which meant 30,000 or 40,000 men. The first day
I receipted for 100 rounds of ammunition and shot it all and the next
day for 115 and used all that the 2nd day. The others all did about the
same. They had removed the dead during the night and charged over the
same ground all of the second day. We held our same position behind the
fortifications and lost very few men, but the ground in front of us was
blue with the poor boys in blue, again by night fall. We left a strong
force at the fortifications during the night, but a part of us went into
camp near by.
We went back to our position in the morning of the 3rd day and the
Yankees had moved their dead, but were reinforced and ready to charge us
again and continued until about the middle of the day. One of our
Bedford boys “Lil” Johnson, looked over the fortifications and was shot
through the head and killed instantly. Another fellow Creed Hubbard was
killed by a bullet passing through the fortifications. Chas. Price,
Newt. Shaver and I were side by side as we had been for three days
firing at the enemy, when another bullet came through the fortifications
and struck Newt. in the breast and he fell dead, as we thought. I put my
hand into his bosom to see if we could stop the bullet wound from
bleeding and found there wasn’t a particle of blood. He had just been
stunned so we soon revived him with water, and just then one of our
couriers came in sight and was killed. Some one ran up to him and found
a dispatch in his hand ordering us to fall back. Our breastworks had
caught on fire at the extreme ends of our line and our men had already
been ordered back, but we were the last to receive the order.
The enemy was pressing harder, of course, and just as we started back,
after our breastworks had caught on fire, Chas. Price took Newt’s gun to
carry and I took his arm to help him, as he was still weak from the
shock and a bullet struck him in the arm, that was locked in mine. We
had to leave our dead men at the breastworks to burn. I only saw the two
right near me, in fact they were about 3rd or 4th man from me, but of
course, there were others all along the line. Still our loss was very
meager, compared to the enemy. We fell back until we reached Gen.
Lomax’s breastworks. When we crossed over and laid down, I told Newt I
wanted to find out why that first ball that struck him didn’t enter his
body and I asked him what he had in his pocket. He said he had the bible
that his mother gave him, when he left home. I looked and found the
bullet more than half way through the little bible. So it had saved his
life.
I turned him over to the ambulance corps to be cared for. The enemy’s
whole line of battle followed us, but only the sharpshooters came in
sight. We waited for the line to appear to open fire, but as they
didn’t, Col. Munford ordered our sharpshooters to re-cross the
breastworks and charge the enemy who was hiding behind trees and firing
occasionally.
Edward Brugh, of Co. C., 2nd Va. Cavalry, who was commanding us, ordered
us to advance and try to keep the trees between us and the enemy as much
as possible. Just as I got to a large tree a man behind it fired at
Brugh who was behind another tree to my right, and shot him through the
lung. I ran around the tree expecting to get him, but he had dodged
behind another tree and I didn’t get a shot at him. Lieut. Hayth was put
in Brugh’s stead and we followed on and drove them nearly to our
breastworks that had been burned. I was in the front line and just as we
were ordered to halt, I saw a Yankee officer lying dead, as I thought,
with his head between two small shrubs. I went to him and saw that he
was shot through the head and thought from his appearance that he might
have money, so I examined his pockets and found none, but found a
splendid silver watch. One of Co. K’s men was with me and he said:
“Peck, I am going to take his boots, he’ll never need them again.” Just
as he aimed to pull one off, the man kicked him and sent him a couple of
somersaults. I looked and saw that our men had gotten some distance back
toward our breastworks, so we started back in double quick time, I’ll
tell you.
The enemy’s skirmish line began firing on us and we ran at full speed. I
carried the watch in my hand, so if I was shot I could throw it away. I
didn’t want them to kill or capture me with a dead Yankee’s property on
my person. We didn’t overtake our men until we crossed the breastworks,
and we crossed right where Capt. James Breckinridge was and laid down by
his side. He said to me: “The boys thought you were either killed or
captured as you didn’t get back with them.” I then showed him the watch
and told him of my hunting for money and finding it. Capt. B. took the
watch and looked at it and saw that it belonged to Col. E. L. Sindler,
of the 1st Va. U. S. Cavalry. Col. Munford said he knew the man well;
had gone to school with him at West Point, and had been his class-mate
and graduated with him. Capt. B. wanted to trade me a gold watch for it,
and I sent the gold watch home, and he carried Col. Sindler’s watch
until he was killed at the battle of Five Forks.
It wasn’t long until night-fall, so the enemy let us remain in camp
until morning. We arose early and the infantry had arrived by this time,
and we fortified, expecting them to do the fighting and we could look
on. The infantry had been in camp nearer Richmond and didn’t get to us
in time to share our three days fight.
Gen. Lee ordered us out near where our breastworks had been burned, to
bring on the fight, but before we got that far the enemy, hiding in the
timber, fired on us and killed Capt. Breckinridge’s horse, known to us
as “Bull Locust.” We retreated so they would come out in the field and
follow us nearer to the breastworks where we could have a chance at them
and the infantry opened fire on them. Just at this time Col. Munford
received a dispatch from Gen. J. E. B. Stewart, that Sheridan, who had
been fighting in the southwest was advancing on Richmond with 15,000 men
and 90 pieces of artillery, principally parot guns. Munford ordered us
to follow him in a gallop, which we did.
We halted after galloping about twelve miles, when we were nearing
Sheridan’s rear. He was in a country where a great deal of broom sage
grew and to keep us from overtaking him he had fired the country for
miles. We rushed right through the fire, singing our eye-brows and our
horses manes and tails, but succeeded in coming on his rear and also
getting a portion of our army in front of him at a place near Beaver
Dam.
As Sheridan had so much larger force of men and equipments than Stewart,
we had to give way at several points, to protect ourselves, but when we
got to Yellow Tavern, about 9 miles from Richmond, Stewart determined to
make a stand and save Richmond. Stewart rode in front of his line and
told us that Richmond’s destiny lay at our hands; that in three more
miles Sheridan could reach the Heights from which he could throw Greek
fire from the parot guns and shell the town. Richmond houses were
principally covered with shingle roofing at that time and not so many
brick buildings, and as the parot guns could throw a shell 6 miles, and
when it struck it would explode and throw fire in every direction, it
would have been an easy and short take to have set it all on fire. We
had had some experience with Greek fire and knew what it was to
extinguish it. It was a very dry time, too, but a cloud arose and just
as the battle began the cloud reached us and a dreadful storm followed.
The lightning and cannonading were so terrific, that sometimes we
couldn’t tell the flash of one from the other. The rain was just pouring
and often the ammunition would get so wet, as we were loading our guns,
that they wouldn’t fire.
The Penn. cavalry made a desperate charge and took three of Stewart’s
artillery guns. Stewart, with his 1st Va. regiment, the one that he had
gone out with, aimed to retake the guns, and one of the Penn. cavalry,
who had gotten out into our lines before falling back and saw Stewart
and recognized him, I suppose, fired and mortally wounded him. We didn’t
get the guns but we held Sheridan back and saved Richmond. The battle
only lasted something more than an hour, but in that short time we had
lost one of our bravest and best men, Gen. J. E. Stewart.
We fought nearly the whole time in a down-pour of rain and the loss was
heavy on both sides, but we felt the loss of our leader more than all of
the privates, at this time, when the enemy was doubling in on us from
all sides.
Sheridan was not easily defeated, we only spoiled one plan for him to
make another to reach Richmond; that was to go down and cross the
Chickahominy at Meadow Bridge. He began that movement as he fell back
from Yellow Tavern.
Our pickets that evening and night found that he was moving in that
direction, so we were ordered to move down and form a line of battle
south of Meadow Bridge. The Chickahominy was very much swollen by the
rain the day before and it was out over the swamps about waist deep on a
man.
We were right at the bank of the river and saw so many large turtles,
watching for bugs or anything that might be floated. We soon looked out
across the river that had spread a mile or more over the swamp, and saw
a number of objects that looked no larger than many of the turtles,
advancing in regular line.
I told the boys that I believed that was Yankees wading in the water and
trying to make us believe they were turtles. The other boys all thought
they were turtles, though.
I was right in the road that crossed the bridge and had a good view, and
felt sure they were men we saw and not turtles. So I called to Lieut.
McGruder to come down and investigate the matter. He hadn’t much more
than reached me, before these men in the water opened fire on us and
killed McGruder while talking to me.
The Yankees were armed with Spencer rifles and it made no difference how
wet they got the water couldn’t penetrate the powder. They had stooped
down until only their heads were above water, where it wasn’t deep
enough to hide them, and when they were yet about fifty yards out from
the river in the swamp timber, they fired on us, killing several men of
our skirmish line and the Lieut.
We were ordered to fall back over the crest of a little hill south of
us, in double quick time. We had a very brave Irish Sergeant, who said
he’d never run, and as we were going back in double quick time, the
Capt. said to him:
“Paddy, I thought you’d never run.”
He said: “Ah, Capt. It is shust this way. Those d——d rascals have played
turtle on us and it is better for a fellow to be a coward for a few
minutes, than a corpse for the rest of his life. Let the d——d rascals
come out of the water loike min, and I’ll foight them until hell freezes
over and thin I’ll foight thim on the ice.”
We fell back to our regular line of battle and artillery and when they
came out of the water we rushed up to the top of the hill with our
artillery and charged them, driving them back through the river with
heavy slaughter.
Gen. Stewart, who had been taken to his brother-in-law’s home in
Richmond, and was gradually growing worse, heard the cannonading and
asked what it meant. They told him that Sheridan was aiming to cross at
Meadow Bridge, and that Fitz Lee and Wade Hampton were holding the ford.
Stewart’s reply was: “If Fitz Lee is there with the Va. cavalry,
Richmond is safe.” These were the last words he spoke, that any one
could understand. I’ll tell you it did our sad hearts good to know that
the man we had fought with that long, had that confidence in us and that
we could be among his last thoughts.
At about two o’clock the water had run down considerably, and some of us
crossed to see if we could locate Sheridan’s movements. Scouting parties
were sent in every direction and we soon found that he had retreated in
the direction of the White House, on the York River.
While we were fighting Sheridan, R. E. Lee was having some of the
hardest fighting they had ever had. He was opposing Grant at Bloody
Angle and other points near. It was at Bloody Angle that Lee’s men
ordered him to the rear and they would go to the front. This he did, and
they did go to the front and straightened the line of the angle.
We were out scouting for several days and finding that Sheridan was
moving toward Washington, we returned and joined the command and went to
protect R. E. Lee’s right flank, when Grant was making his left flank
movement to get between Lee and Richmond. We met the enemy at a place
called Jack’s Shop and as we had no fortifications, began to prepare
immediately. Capt. James Breckinridge sent Wash Conode and myself to the
wagon train, that was a few miles in the rear, to get ammunition for the
regiment. When we got back, they had decided not to fortify at that
place, but had moved to another piece of woods and had left a man to
tell us where to go. For some reason, he wasn’t there and we went up
within thirty or forty yards of what we thought was our regiment, but
found it was the Yankee infantry. When I found we’d struck the Yankees I
told Conode to fall flat on his horse and follow me. I started out of
the woods and the Yankees began firing on us and Conode surrendered
right there, with his ammunition. I kept riding as hard as I could go
down a ravine below the infantry and I thought they would be apt to over
shoot me, as I was going down a hill. They fired on me fearfully for a
half mile or more, but as usual not a bullet struck me or my horse. When
I got to the end of the ravine and out of the range of the line of
Yankees, I found the man that had been left to tell us where to go with
the ammunition. I told him I’d lost the man and sack of ammunition, by
his not staying at his post and had run one of the narrowest risks of my
life. I guess fully a thousand shots was fired at me, but it is hard to
shoot a man galloping down hill.
When I got to the command, they had commenced fortifying at a place that
one of R. E. Lee’s engineers had located. We held this position and kept
the Yankee infantry back, until our infantry arrived that eve and the
next day a big battle occurred between the two forces of infantry.
We, of the cavalry had been sent still farther on Lee’s right to prevent
Grant’s movement again. About that time Gen. Custer was making a raid
toward the James River to destroy the canal, thereby cutting off a large
source of supplies. Gen. Wade Hampton was sent to check him and we rode
all night and just before day light some of us were detached to get corn
for our horses. We went to a corn crib and each man put two bushels of
corn on his horse, as ordered and we expected to feed as soon as we got
back to the road. But instead of that, we found a man waiting to tell us
that new orders had been received and that the rest of the command had
gone in double quick time and for us to follow likewise.
We overtook them between daylight and sunrise near Travillian Depot. All
the other fellows had let half of their corn out of their sacks, but I
carried all of mine, for the horses hadn’t had anything to eat since the
morning before. I didn’t think about it hurting my horse, but we all
unsaddled to feed and when I went to saddle up again my horse’s back was
so swollen that I couldn’t get the saddle on. She and two other horses
were condemned as unfit for service and I was detached to take all three
of them to the horse pasture, in Albemarle.
I started for the horse pasture at once, which was about a day’s ride. I
hoped to get something to eat from citizens, as I had not eaten anything
since the morning before. I soon came to a lot of led horses in a field
of about ten acres. There was one man to every four horses, and other
men were out fortifying and preparing to repel Custer, when he would
advance. These were confederate horses belonging to Gen. Young. The man
who had charge of the horses, told me it wasn’t safe for me to go
farther, that no telling at just what point Custer’s men would appear.
He told me to come and eat breakfast with him and remain until we could
see farther. As I needed food, I of course, took his advise. We went
into a house right then to get breakfast, that had already been ordered
and we had just begun to eat when one of the ladies of the house came in
saying there was a disturbance among the horses out there and she
thought there were some men in blue among them. When we got out we saw a
regiment of Yankee cavalry coming to the horses and surrounding them,
and some of the Yankees were opening the fence and taking out the horses
and men in the direction of where Custer’s army was stationed. They came
right on to the house and captured all of us. They got out about 500
horses and one man to every four horses, of course.
Gen. Rosser, whose men hadn’t been dismounted, heard the firing and
rushed down and recaptured about two thirds of us and our horses and
captured some of the Yankees also. I was free then to start on my
journey to the horse pasture. I hadn’t gone more than a half mile when I
met a nice sorrel horse, galloping saddled and bridled, but no rider. I
didn’t know what to make of it, but I caught him and took him on with
me. I could hear the firing up at the depot, so I thought the Yankees
would all be needed there and went on, but somewhat cautiously.
I got to the horse pasture that eve and found every thing in confusion,
as they thought Custer was coming that way on his raid. I had learned
before I got very far from the command that Custer had been repulsed
with heavy slaughter. Julius Buford, who was our veterinary surgeon at
the horse pasture, had taken all the horses to the mountain and the
citizens had also, thinking Custer was coming. A Mr. Poindexter of
Franklin Co. had charge of the pasture but not a horse was there.
My horse was badly swollen under the body as well as on the back, when I
got there and Mr. Poindexter sent for Buford yet that night and bled the
horse by lantern light. I wanted to stay with Poindexter but Mr. and
Mrs. Machen insisted on my going to the house and staying with them. I
did so and the next morning when I went to see about my horse, Buford
had bled him again. I rode the horse that I had found and caught in the
road back to the command and I found that an application had been made
for a furlough for me to go home and get a good horse that I had there.
The sorrel was pretty well broken down and I didn’t want to risk him,
when I had a better one at home.
The day after I got back to the command the Yankees aimed to make a
flank movement at Cold Harber and go up the Mechanicsville road to
Richmond, only a short distance. We were ordered to meet them at Cold
Harber and we had a desperate encounter. When we got there the bullets
were fast raining on us, but the air was blowing from us and we couldn’t
hear a sound. We couldn’t see them, but they could tell where we were
moving as it was a very dry time and a cloud of dust arose as we
marched. Several of our men were wounded before we dismounted. A fellow
by the name of Moore was holding his head up listening and I saw him as
a bullet hit him in the neck and passed between his swallow and
windpipe. Caneer of Lynchburg was shot in the arm, but both recovered.
We began fortifying and just as the enemy came in sight, the 57th Va.
regiment came to reinforce us and they took our position and we moved
farther down, to the right, still fortifying. After a while the 60th Va.
relieved the 57th and they came and took our place, completing the
fortifying we had started. We moved still farther to the right. We dug
and shoveled dirt all night finishing our fortifications. Some would
work while others slept and then they would wake up the sleepers and
they’d go to work while the others slept.
The next morning the 60th regiment passed down the line and I recognized
two of my nearest neighbors, at home, Harrington Jones and Albert Curd.
I said hello, Albert, and he stopped very suddenly and a lantern jawed
fellow, with his mouth wide open, who was walking right behind him,
swallowed about six inches of Albert’s gun. He had tremendous teeth and
I could hear the teeth scraping over the gun barrel. The fellow yelled
out at Albert “what in the hell did you stop for?” Albert said: “Pshaw,
what are you eating my gun for, didn’t you have any breakfast?” In a few
hours we were ordered out to intimidate the Yankee cavalry and be ready
if they made an attack, and directly we saw a horse kicking and rearing
around and he came dashing across the field, right to our regiment and
one of our men ran out and met him and captured horse and rider.
There was an old white rooster tied on the saddle just flopping away, so
his prospective chicken roast had caused his capture. We sent him on to
Richmond and ate the chicken. The very next day the treacherous horse
became frightened and carried one of our men into the enemy’s lines. We
cheered both men as they came and went.
We didn’t do any fighting that day but the infantry fought all day, but
our men still held their position. There were thousands of men released
on both sides. The Yankees charged all night as well as day for two or 3
days. The north lost, I guess, ten men to our one though, as we were
well fortified and they were not. Grant seemed determined to force
through our breastworks but he failed. Sheridan COULDN’T and Grant
thought he WOULD. We still held our post to keep any of the enemy from
getting around and a strong force of cavalry was on the left of our
infantry to prevent Grant from sending any troops around that way. He
was known as the old left flanker. The cavalry was not in any of the
hottest of this battle, as we occupied the extreme ends of the line.
This was in July and the next March, I passed over the ground, across
which the Yankees had charged and I could hardly step without tramping
on the bones still in the uniforms of the blue. They had buried some in
very deep gullies, just piled them and cut brush and threw some dirt
over them but the rains, had by this time, washed out the bones and the
land was strewn with skulls for a half mile, or more. A lot of rushes
grew down in the low lands below the end of the gulley and I saw a pile
of something that looked like snow. I went down to see what it was and
found it was skulls piled against the rushes. I found a dentist from
Appomattox Co. there getting teeth that were filled with gold. He had
his haversack about full.
Just after the battle of Cold Harber, my furlough came and I started
home for a horse. While I was at home Wilson made a raid toward
Petersburg and Fitz Lee and Hampton met him and drove him back and
captured some men and about 100 horses. As I went back to the war I
passed through Bedford City and stayed all night at the same place I
stayed when I first went to the war.
I found our command near Ream’s Station, not far from Petersburg. In a
short time after I got there, we were called out to go to the White
House on the York River. We crossed the James River on pontoon bridges,
below Richmond and rode all day and night, arriving there just before
day. At daylight we saw three ironclad boats in the river and as the fog
cleared away one boat moved up the river and one down and turned
broadside and opened fire on us, firing three or four guns at once. We
moved back out of sight before they got our range, so we didn’t lose any
one just then. Then we dismounted and were marched by fours up above the
White House and down to the river, where we could see the enemy drilling
in a piece of meadow land just below the town, called the White House.
We were not ordered to charge at all, but were marched back to our
horses and mounted and went a couple of miles back in the direction of
Charles City C. H. and went into camp, remaining there all night.
The next morning, after eating breakfast we were ordered to mount and
just then a courier came with a dispatch to Fitz Lee and he sent it on
to Col. Munford who was commanding our brigade. Col. Munford sent Co. C.
and D. to form a skirmish line and we were ordered to forward march. The
other 8 companies followed in regular line of battle. When we had gone a
short distance we came to a lot of pines about as high as a man’s head
and a fence that had been through this pine field, had been torn down
and the rails piled, forming a fortification. The Yankee skirmish line
was lying behind this, but broke and ran, before we shot at them at all.
We pursued them and when we got out of the pines, we saw them going to
several buildings around a farm house.
We followed them and they took refuge in a log barn and shot at us
through the cracks, but over shot us, not even wounding a man. We swung
around the barn and when they saw we were going to get them, about 25 of
them ran out and aimed to escape through a solid plank gate, and rushed
against the gate thinking it opened out, I suppose, but it opened back
against them. The foremost man couldn’t get the others back to open it,
of course, and we ordered them to surrender, but they wouldn’t and began
firing at us, so we had to fire at them. We killed or wounded every man.
They were supporting six pieces of artillery on the hill above us, which
was firing at us all the time, but overshooting us. We went up the hill
to take the artillery, but before we got there, they had retreated. The
only loss we sustained was by a bumshell hanging in the limbs of a tall,
slender, sweet gum tree, and its weight and force took the tree right to
the ground bursting the shell and striking Capt. Tibbs of Co. K. from
Albermarle Co., cutting his head clear off. The first and third
regiments followed the retreating artillery awhile and put a couple of
negro regiments to flight, but could not overtake the artillery. We drew
in all our pickets and started back toward Richmond. We traveled about
15 miles and made up fires and camped until morning, then continued our
march back to Petersburg. We had left our weak horses and a few of the
men at the old camp.
Everything was quiet for a few days. One evening late, we heard a
terrible report and didn’t know just what to make of it, so we went down
to Petersburg and stayed all night in the streets. Some remained
mounted, while others dismounted, awaiting future orders. We learned
when we got there that Grant had undermined our breastworks below
Petersburg and had blown them up, sustaining a very heavy loss of his
men. We went back to camp the next day and remained for a week or so. We
had a fine time there catching eels. We practically lived on them.
We next had orders to prepare three days’ rations and march toward
Richmond. We passed through Richmond and crossed the Blue Ridge at
Brown’s Gap and into the Valley of Virginia. Here we found fine hay
stacks, big barns, nice houses, and we thought we had struck a bonanza.
Gen. John C. Breckinridge, commanding a large division of infantry and
cavalry, came into the Valley just after we did. We knew something was
coming off soon, but didn’t know just what.
A few days after that our pickets came in and said that Sheridan was
coming up the Valley with a still larger force than we had. Our troops
made a stand near Winchester, but were unable to hold it. We had no
fortifications and word came to Fitz Lee’s cavalry that the 60th Va.
Regiment had been captured and we were ordered out to try to recapture
it. We hurried to the scene and succeeded in getting about half of them,
but a Yankee cavalry Gen. marched the others off prisoners at the same
time. We were placed at different positions to let the enemy know that
our cavalry was present, and the infantry was left at the temporary
breastworks, fighting hard. The enemy often shelled us so that we’d have
to get out of sight.
We lost eight or ten commissioned officers and a number of men, but none
of my company was killed that day. One of our General’s horses, a
beautiful dun, had one leg shot and broken above the knee and we were
ordered about that time to hurry up to the forts above Winchester and
hold the enemy in check. We galloped the two or three miles and this
beautiful horse kept right with the others, all the way, galloping on
three legs, the broken leg would swing in and out as he galloped, but he
never offered to halt. It was certainly a pitiful sight to see his
courage when we knew his pain. The officer wanted some of us to shoot
him, but no one had the heart to do it, so we had to leave him and I
never knew what became of him. We remained at the forts until about
night and the enemy not putting in its appearance, we retreated up the
back road, it was called, parallel to the mountain and passed through a
beautiful village, called Darksville. We camped a few miles above the
town that night and continued our retreat the next day until we came to
Fishers Hill. The infantry began its retreat when we did, and made a
stop also. We had a considerable fight, Sheridan succeeding in driving
us up the Valley.
We next halted at Columbia Furnace, but Sheridan drove us about six
miles farther. In this encounter Lieut. Ed. Hayth, my cousin, was
wounded and he and a lot of other men got cut off from us in some way
and went up in a mountain valley. They couldn’t get back on account of
Sheridan’s men being at the mouth of the valley. Tim Stevens and I got
permission from Col. Munford to go across the first ridge above where
Sheridan’s men were and try to find Ed. Hayth and one of Stevens
relatives, who had been wounded, also. Here we learned from the citizens
that the men’s wounds had been dressed and that they had left and went
out after Sheridan’s men moved beyond the mouth of the valley.
They told us of a near way to get back to our command and just at the
top of the ridge we stopped for dinner at a farm house. I remember two
dishes they had was peach family pie and honey. Both were always very
pleasing to my taste and especially so then. I bought some of the honey
from the lady and took it on back to camp with me. Some of the boys
detected the taste of laurel on the honey, but the lady had sweet milk
to drink at her table, so I hadn’t noticed it. I wanted the boys to eat
all the honey so I could take the box back with me that day to another
farm house and buy more. I had a two days’ detachment and had only used
one, so I thought I’d use that day foraging. The boys didn’t care to eat
it all and I told them I would finish it if it killed me. Of course, I
just said it jokingly, but it came very near ending very seriously. I
saddled my horse and was ready to start, but began to get so sick and in
a few minutes was perfectly unconscious. The boys ran for Dr.
Shackleford and he sent for the doctors, from the 1-3-4-5 regiments and
all pronounced my case fatal, from poison, except Dr. Drew from the 4th
regiment. In my imagination, I remember, I fought the battle at Columbia
Furnace, now called Bridgewater, I believe, and thought I was captured,
and once that the artillery ran over me. I suffered dreadfully for
hours, but regained conciousness after the middle of the day. One of my
“mess mates,” Wm. B. Bowyer, who was chief of the blacksmiths of our
regiment, came and stayed with me, as soon as he heard I was sick and he
was the first one I recognized.
At about 2 o’clock we were ordered to move and the ambulance was sent to
haul me but I wouldn’t go in it. I told them to put me on my horse and I
could go better that way. Two men put me on the horse and wanted to tie
me, but I told them I believed I could sit on, and to let me try it for
a while any way. We started off, and strange to say, I rode the ten
miles with the others alright and felt perfectly well when we reached
our destination. I’ve always been fond of honey, but I’ll tell you I’m
very careful to notice if there is any bitter taste about it before
eating any, ever since that day.
Sheridan was called back to Winchester and Gen. Gordon suggested to Gen.
Jubal A. Early that if he would give him control of the army from
mid-night until mid-day he would surprise Sheridan’s army in his absence
and make a big capture. Sheridan’s men were in camp at Cedar Creek and
we were a few miles above them. So Gen. Gordon called out the whole army
and had them ready just before daybreak. We went down to the outposts
and waited for daylight to make the attack.
We attacked them and then soon began to retreat. Some of them just
rushed out without shoes and in their night clothes, without guns. It
was a perfect stampede, and very few guns were fired at first. After a
while the artillery took a position and began firing on us and we on
them, and Sheridan hearing the noise, knew his men had been attacked,
and hurried to the scene. I was in the skirmish line, as usual, and saw
him galloping up on his fine black horse, “Rienza.” I said to some of
the boys its over with now, for yonder comes Sheridan and he’ll change
things around here. I sent a courier immediately to Col. Munford,
telling him and he said: “Peck must be crazy. Sheridan is at
Winchester.” I told the courier, alright, Munford would soon see who was
crazy. In less than 15 minutes a cheer passed all along the enemy’s
lines: “Three cheers for Philip Sheridan.” Sheridan wheeled his men
around and told them to charge us and they did so, recapturing all we
had taken from them and capturing a great many of our men and
equipments. We had to fall back up the Valley and went into camp a few
miles above there. Sheridan was gradually driving us at his will, in
most cases, now.
At the Massamit Mountain, he succeeded in getting his army around in
front of our infantry. Gen. Fitz Lee, with the cavalry, went through a
colon on the west side of the Blue Ridge Mountain and struck the road
leading from Charlottesville to Waynesboro.
When we struck the road, we found that the citizens had fortified and
there were about 100 armed men and boys, some of the boys only large
enough to carry a gun. They were at the fortifications aiming to stop
any raiding parties or the enemy from passing and going to
Charlottesville.
Fitz Lee ordered us to dismount and every fourth man to hold horses and
the others form into line. We advanced down toward Waynesboro, and the
little boys begged so to get in line that they and the citizens also
were allowed to go on in the line of battle. The enemy didn’t open fire
on us until we were real near the town and then they only used
artillery. Our artillery came around on the west side, by this time, and
fired back at them, but they retreated through the town and formed a
line farther west. We only lost five men, and that was from a shell
fired by our own artillery that struck in a tree near us and exploded,
killing five of our men.
We went through the town and in sight of the fortifications, but were
ordered back into the village and the artillery came and did all the
firing. To get out of range of the guns, while we were not firing, about
75 of us lay down in a basement where a house had been burned a year or
so before, and our artillery and that of the enemy was firing over us
for a while and the roar nearly deafened us. I have never yet heard out
of my left ear as well as I did before. The firing stopped about
nightfall and we remained there until the next morning.
When we went up to Gettysburg and burned the commissaries at Carlisle,
Penn., and Thad Stevens Iron Works, and the packet boats at Seneca
Falls, I told them I was bitterly opposed to setting the torch to the
enemy’s property, for it meant greater loss for us when they would
retaliate. Since that, our men, Early and McCoslin, had burned
Chambersburg, so I guess Sheridan thought he was in a good position to
retaliate now. The morning we left Waynesboro, I counted 100 barns,
granaries, mills and wheat ricks, burning. We were on an elevation and
could see a long distance. We knew it was the beginning of a dreadful
disaster to the Confederacy.
Sheridan passed on, burning as he went, only leaving dwellings and one
mill in every ten miles. He was like a spoilt child. Drove well, as long
as we followed at a distance, but as soon as we would press him, he
would halt and fight us. As his forces out-numbered ours so much, all we
could do was to keep our distance and let him go on. Every night we
camped and rested and so did he.
Recruits were coming in occasionally, and one young fellow, Dick Oliver,
from Orange Co., came to us on this march toward Harper’s Ferry. We were
scarce of men for picket duty about that time, in our company, and some
one suggested to send this new man, and an old picket guard with him, as
it was his first service. So the Orderly Serg. introduced me to young
Oliver as Bro. Peck and told him I would accompany him.
We got the countersign and watchword and started for our picket post. He
was a very intelligent young man and highly educated. We were standing
guard on the Shenandoah river and after being out awhile, he said it
reminded him of the children of Israel going from Egypt back to the Land
of Canaan. He made a mistake in relating some of the narrative and I
called his attention to it and he remembered then, that I was right. He
talked on a while and soon made another error. He then said that he
didn’t remember the Bible as he did other things and for me to take the
subject and we’d talk it over together, as it was very interesting to
him. I told him, I thought to make the topic more interesting, it was
better to start with the baby, Moses, and how Miriam had watched him in
his little basket in the rushes, and I came on up to his manhood when he
was Pharoah’s adopted son; then how God had spoken to him from the
burning bush. Then I talked on of how Moses tried to get Pharoah to let
the children of Israel go back to their own land and of his crossing the
Red Sea with them; how the 12 spies were sent to explore the Land of
Canaan and ten reported a bad land and only two, Joshua and Caleb, said
it was a good land. The report of the ten spies so discouraged the
children of Israel that they rebelled, and God punished them by keeping
them wandering in the wilderness 40 years. And by the time I got through
with it all, and Moses on Mount Nebo, and fought two or three battles
over in Canaan with Joshua and Caleb, I heard an old rooster crow at a
farm house, near. We went back into camp after daybreak, and Oliver went
to the Serg. and said: “What in the world did you send the Chaplain out
there with me for? I had two canteens of whiskey and wanted some so bad
all night, but hated to ask the parson to drink with me or drink in his
presence.” The Serg. said: “You are crazy, I never sent the Chaplain
with you.” Oliver said: “Oh yes, you did. I was spouting some of the
Bible and he corrected me twice and commenced at the birth of Moses and
talked on for more than 50 years. Why he knows the Bible by heart, I
believe!” The Serg. had a hearty laugh and when the other boys found it
out, I was called “Parson” for a long time. I regretted his mistake, of
course, as I missed several drinks that would have helped me over the
night very much.
We marched all that day and at night we needed rations and Capt. James
Breckinridge told me to butcher some sheep that some of our men had
captured from Sheridan. Sheridan was driving off all the cattle, sheep,
hogs and horses, that he could get to starve us out, but we captured
sheep and cattle from him occasionally and these had been put in a
tobacco house near. I went to the house and butchered two of the sheep
in the dark, and got them dressed by about one o’clock. I then went to
the nearest house to get vessels to cook the mutton in, and no one
answered me when I called. Of course, at that time of night they were
all asleep. But finally a lady called down from an upper window and I
told her I had orders to press their cooking utensils into service, and
I’d like for her to get them for me. She came down and helped me to get
the mutton to cooking, and was as kind as any one could be. By the time
the army came along the next morning, I had the mutton ready and each
man’s bread and mutton cut off, and handed it out as they passed. When
young Oliver passed with Sandy White, Sandy told Oliver that he ought to
feel complimented to have the chaplain serving him, and we had a laugh
over the joke and they rode on. Capt. Breckinridge was among the last
coming by and told me I had better butcher a couple more of the sheep
and cook them at this same place that day, and have it ready for the
next day’s rations, and he would send and get it. So I went to work and
got it ready, but by the time I got the meat to boiling, word came to me
that Oliver had been killed and Sandy White mortally wounded and
captured. Such is life in warfare. Oliver had only been with us two days
and nights until he was killed.
As soon as the meat had been cooked, the wagon came for it and I went on
with the wagon and joined the command about 10 miles farther on, where
they had encamped. We remained here until ordered back to Petersburg.
Chas. Cahoon and I were sent out on picket one day and there was a nice
brick house near where we thought we had to stand guard, so I went up
and called and asked the lady of the house if this wasn’t the place the
pickets usually stood. She said, in a very gruff way: “No, it is where
the thieves stand, you are every one a set of nasty thieves.” I said, is
it possible that you would call such gentlemen as we are, thieves? Now,
what would my mother say if she knew her son had been called a thief?
I’m certainly sorry to know that you have such an opinion of us. She
said: “Well that is all you are and I’ll never believe anything else
until you prove it.” I told her, now since she had branded me as a thief
I was going to take something. She said: “No you won’t, for I’m going to
watch you.” She sat on the porch and watched us a part of the time and
her daughter watched when she left. She had the school children, about
60 yards away, watching, and the old man was watching, also. She told
the school teacher to watch us, so they’d be sure that we wouldn’t get
anything.
I fed the horses before the school children got out for dinner and held
some corn in my hand to bait the chickens. I helloed, “shew!” and
pretended to try to drive the chickens away, but was showing them the
corn and calling so the old lady couldn’t hear me. Directly one came and
ate from my hand and I just closed my hand on it and twisted its head
off, and slipped it under my overcoat and then put it in Cahoon’s
haversack. He said: “Peck, that old devil is looking right at you.” I
told him that was the funny part of it. The old man would hit one lick
at his chopping and then look at us, then another lick and up at us
again. Presently another chicken came up and I got it the same way, so I
had my two chickens and was content. When school was out I went a few
steps, down to the branch, and helped the teacher and children across. I
had talked to the old lady some during the day and found out that she
was a sister of Peach Wolf, who had been on our circuit at my home and
had preached a funeral in our family. I had called on her brother at
Winchester that same spring. He was a splendid man and I told the old
lady how much I thought of him. I began to get on the right side of her
in that way. We left about sundown and went up to tell them all
good-bye. Her daughter was beautiful and I told her I had fallen
completely in love with the young lady, and how sad it was to think we
might never meet again, that I might be numbered with the slain before
another day. I quoted the poetry:
“Oh, ever thus from childhood hours,
I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay,
I never loved a tree or flower,
But what ’twas first to fade away.
“Now is it true that I must go?
And can I say to thee farewell?
And are my fondest hopes undone?
And must I from thee ever dwell?”
I told her I hated to leave, thinking that she thought me a thief, and
she said: “Oh, I’ll take it all back, I don’t think you would take
anything. I am sorry I ever said such a thing, for I believe you are the
most honest Confederate there is.” At this Cahoon burst out laughing and
started off. He couldn’t stand it, he said, any longer. I called to him
to come back, but he wouldn’t do it. I was going to show her the
chickens, after she had thought me so honest, and pay her for them, but
Cahoon wouldn’t come back, so I left, letting her keep her exalted
opinion of me.
In a week or so I went back and spent the day with the people who had
helped me to cook the mutton and they treated me as kindly as if I had
been a near relative.
On Monday, following, Lieut. Walton, of Salem, Roanoke Co., detached me
to go to Salem for his horse. I left the command Monday eve and rode
every day and half of each night until I reached Fincastle. I stayed at
home from midnight until after breakfast, and started on to Salem. I had
a sweetheart beyond Salem, in Montgomery Co. in fact, she was the lady I
married in Sept ’65, and she has been my faithful companion ever since;
has helped me fight the most important battle of all, the battle of
life. As I had a ten days furlough, I thought I must take advantage of
this opportunity of seeing her so spent two days and nights at her home.
I came back by my home at Fincastle and got my gray mare that I had left
at the horse pasture with blood-poison, when Custer was making his raid
near Trevillian Depot. She had been sent home some time before that, but
I hadn’t had an opportunity to get her. She was now fat and fine and
well rested, and in good shape for service.
I found our command near Mount Jackson, when I returned to the army.
Shortly after I got there the Yankee cavalry made a raid up to Mt.
Jackson. Our artillery took a position on Rude’s Hill and fired across
Meam’s Bottoms at the enemy’s artillery, stationed on the heights at Mt.
Jackson. Levi Wheat and a young man named Scott, of Co. A., Bedford Co.,
were killed here. Our cavalry made a charge and the enemy fled. A few of
our men were killed, but more of the Yankees. Our artillery did the most
of the damage.
We remained at Mt. Jackson until after Xmas. There was a heavy guard put
around the camp to keep any of the soldiers from going away, but as the
Shenandoah was considerably swollen, no guard was put there, thinking no
one could cross.
Geo. Shaver and I thought it would be a good chance for us to cross the
river and go to Lutheran preaching Xmas eve. So just after roll call, we
swam the river on our horses, but got wet above our knees, and went on
to preaching. We went to a Mr. Bear’s first, who was a connection or
acquaintance of Shaver’s and took the young ladies to church, staying
until after mid-night. It was a kind of watch service. We took the young
ladies home and Mrs. Bear gave us a fine roasted turkey tied up in a
sack. She told us not to open it until we got back to camp, and you can
imagine the delight of all the boys when that sack was opened. We got
back to camp alright and went to bed and some of the boys of our own
mess didn’t know we had been out until we showed them our turkey. The
next day being Xmas, a number of boxes was sent to us by the citizens,
which was greatly enjoyed by all.
In a short time we broke camp and crossed one of the Alleghany Ranges
and went into Hardy Co. As Sheridan had burned and destroyed so much in
the Valley, we went out in order to make our own living the best way we
could. Twenty-five days’ rations of salt was given to us when we left
and that was all we had. No bread, meat, or anything. Of course, we had
to steal everything we ate, for we had no money to buy any thing with.
Fitz Lee’s whole division went on this trip. The road around the
mountain was very winding and some of the boys set out fire along the
road as we went up and as they reached the foot, on the other side, set
that. The fire rushed up from both sides until it reached the top, and
those of us farther back, when we reached the top, could enjoy the
spectacle. It was beautiful, we all thought, especially as it was doing
no one any harm.
We were most of the day in crossing and we found a beautiful little
valley where no one seemed to have been before, to molest the peace and
quietude. We hadn’t had anything to eat all day, and shortly after we
went into camp, a sheep ran through, and John Sears and I, started after
him. He ran down into a little cut, where the cattle had been going to
water, and Wm. and Geo. Bowyer, two of my mess mates, happened to be
coming up this cut, so we soon hemmed and caught the sheep. In a very
short time we had it dressed and in our frying pans. After filling our
pans we divided the rest out among the other men nearest to us. Directly
one of our lieutenants came to our tent and said he saw a sheep pass a
little while ago and he guessed some of us had better try to get it,
that the men ought to have food. I told him to sit down a few minutes
and eat supper with us. He was surprised when I said supper. He said:
“Where did you get anything for supper?” Then I told him of his sheep he
thought of getting, that we had it in our frying pans and it would soon
be done. We sliced it very thin and beat it a little like steak. It was
very fat and fried itself nicely. It was very cold weather and before we
got to camp some of us had relieved the citizens of some of their bee
gums. They were all excitement as the army would pass and some of us
would just drop out of ranks and get the bee gums, while the citizens
were watching the others ride by. The bees would fly out at first, but
would soon get so chilled that they would fall to the ground. So we had
honey, mutton and Potomac river water, for supper, but no bread. We
called it the land of mutton and honey, instead of the Land of Canaan,
that flowed with milk and honey.
We had tents with us and would build up big log fires, and sleep with
our feet near the fires, so were very comfortable, despite the freezing
cold weather. Each morning some men were sent out to locate another
place to camp, as we only stayed a day and night at one place. In this
way we kept clear of bush-whackers, and it made it easier on the
citizens feeding us. No one would feel the loss, so much, of what we
would steal from him.
We went into a beautiful grove the second night and the whole division
camped on a level, so that we could see from one end of the line of
tents to the other. We kept out pickets and camp guards all night, and
then a watchman was kept at a tent called the “guard-house,” also. It
fell to my lot to stay at the guard-house this second night. It had
gotten warmer in the eve and some of the men didn’t raise their tents,
just spread them out and laid on them and spread their blankets over
them. When daylight came, I called the bugler and told him to get up and
look. A four or five inch snow had fallen and the whole army was sound
asleep and the men covered up with snow. It had kept them so warm that
they were sleeping unusually well. I told him to blow the bugle and we’d
see a sight similar to the resurrection, when they would rise from their
snowy mounds. When the bugle sounded the men began trying to get up and
as the blankets were lifted the snow just poured in their faces. Well,
then you’d think of anything but the resurrection, at hearing the Sunday
School words, we heard. It was certainly laughable to see and hear them.
While I was on guard some of the other boys had cooked a lot of pork
that we had gotten the day before, so we had a good breakfast of pork
and corn bread. We had made a miller divide his meal with us and I’ll
tell you, we relished it that snowy morning.
We had left the Potomac now and wasn’t near any stream, so we needed
water. It had quit snowing by daylight and the wind was coming from the
north and it turned very much colder. I told the boys I would take the
canteens and thought I’d find water soon, of course, but instead, I went
a half mile or so before I found a little stream in the woods. I kicked
the snow away and found about six inches of ice under that, so I had to
cut that away with my pocket knife. I had to get a place large enough to
sink the canteen to fill it. I kept my gloves on and made it alright
until I went to fill the 8 canteens. I took my gloves off then, as I had
to put my hands in the water and sink the canteen. I started back with
the 8 canteens around my neck and shoulders, and as I had stayed a good
while, Henry Ballard started on the hunt for me. I’d been up all night
and hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, so I guess that made the cold effect me
more. Just as Henry met me, following my tracks in the snow, I fell in a
dead faint, he said. He called back to the other boys, and Wm. Bowyer
came immediately, but I had revived again by the time he got to me. I
was as sick as I could be, though. They carried the canteens and helped
me back to camp and went for Dr. Shackleford. He said to get whiskey,
that I was nearly frozen, but nobody had any. I tried to always keep
some for sickness, but happened not to have any then. He told the boys
then to get some warm lard, and he gave me a cup, nearly a pint, of that
warm lard. It was a dose, but I guess it was what pulled me through. In
less than an hour I felt so much better that I helped the boys eat their
pork and corn bread.
We moved through the snow and cold again that day, to a nice hickory
grove, near the Potomac again, so we’d have no scarcity of water, the
small streams all being frozen. Some of the boys began cutting down
trees for our fires and others to foraging for food. I remembered of
seeing a big iron kettle about a mile behind us, that I thought would be
so good to scald hogs and cook a whole one in. So Chas. Cahoon, John
Sears and myself, went back to get the kettle, but found it filled with
ice. We carried it a very short distance from the house and raked the
snow away and made a fire in a lot of leaves and melted the ice, so that
it would slip out of the kettle, and took it on to camp. After going a
short distance, I told the boys we’d better try to get a hog, too, for
fear the other boys hadn’t found one. I noticed a path, that evening, in
passing along the road, where hogs had been going to water in the snow,
and when we got to it, we followed it right to their bed. It was right
dark and we couldn’t see them very well, especially the white ones. But
there was one old black fellow and I shot him, but he just squealed and
ran down this path to the river. We followed him and he ran out on the
ice a little way and we heard him scuffling and followed on after him
and found he was about dead. We cut his throat and Cahoon carried him
back to camp and Sears and I carried the kettle.
Directly after we got into camp, our honey battallion came. Geo.
Nininger, James Brownlee, Peter Burger, Thomas Carper and Abraham Moody,
formed this crowd. They brought in five gums and I helped to unload it.
When I got to the fourth man, I thought he had an extra good gum of
honey and to our amazement, we found it was nearly filled with ashes. We
teased the boys good for their mistake. We soon prised the tops off and
it was the finest lot of honey I ever saw, I believe. I told the boys we
must try to invent some way to carry some of it to our next camp, and as
I had six new home-made towels with me, that mother had given me the
last time I was at home, we decided to sew them up and strain the honey
out of the comb and put it in our canteens. We soon had nearly a dozen
canteens filled with strained honey. It strained nicely by the hot log
fires. Wm. Bowyer had assorted the honey and we only strained the nice
white comb. The boys ate a lot of the dark comb while we were working
with it, and Chas. Cahoon, especially. There was a lot of bee bread in
the dark comb, of course, and Charles said his father told him honey
wouldn’t make you sick at all, if you ate plenty of that bee bread. But
Charles hadn’t been through eating long until he began getting sick and
drunk, and said to some of us, that he was going to walk out away from
the fire and see if he wouldn’t feel better. Well, he got up and walked
right through the fire. He went so rapidly that his clothing didn’t
catch, but his eye-brows and whiskers were well scorched. I told the
boys that either Shadrack, Meshac or Abednago, were with us, I knew, for
they were the only persons who ever went through fire unharmed. We all
had to laugh, of course, and all he said was: “Boys, I’d give a thousand
dollars if Bowyer would just get sick.” We had some dressed pork on hand
when we went into camp, and some of the boys put it on to cook and by
the time we got through straining our honey, the pork was done, so we
ate supper about mid-night or 2 o’clock in the morning. Some of the
other boys had dressed the hog we had brought in and as soon as we ate,
we put it on to have ready for breakfast.
We heard there was a garrison of men at Moore Field, about 30 miles from
where we were, and some of our boys were sent over to capture them. They
were paroled, when captured, and allowed to return home until exchanged.
When we moved camp next, we stopped in a nice piece of level land, just
where a creek ran into the Potomac. We were near the head of the
Potomac, so it wasn’t a very large stream. The man who owned the land,
lived near in a fine dwelling and had plenty of everything around him.
Col. Munford sent Capt. Cary Breckinridge, the ordinance Serg., Morris
Guggenheimer, and Beverly Whittle and myself, down to the house to
protect the house and its inmates. This was always done, if the citizens
asked for protection.
We had saved the leaf fat from the fat sheep and cattle, until we had
nearly a 2-bushel sack full. I thought this would be a good time to
render it into tallow, so I took it down to the house and got one of the
ladies to help me, and in a little while I had more than a bushel of
tallow, moulded in maple sugar moulds. We were in a regular maple sugar
country. All the people had big kettles and regular equipments for
making it. We were too early for the season, but we got some that was
left from the year before. We kept our tallow to use about making gravy
or putting in our bread, and I ate it sometimes, if I got too awfully
hungry. The other boys couldn’t stand to eat it, but I could eat
anything then, rather than starve.
When we left this camp, thirty of us were sent to Buck Horn Mill, to
hold any meal or flour they might have, until the command came. There
were dozens of pairs of buck horns tacked on the mill. The country
abounded in deer. We found very little in the mill, and we hadn’t been
there long, until one of our companies came after us, to get what was in
the mill, and brought a dispatch telling us to go to the top of Droop
Mountain and go on picket duty on the Parkersburg and Harrisonburg road.
We got there about sun-down, and asked a man living there, if he could
give us provision and keep the men, while not on duty. He was in
sympathy with the South and did all he could for our comfort. I went out
on the first watch and when my 2 hours were out, I came back and asked
the man why, did he suppose, my horse was so restless when I was out,
that I didn’t see anything. He said it was deer that she saw or smelt.
He said they were there by the dozens. One of our men shot one, while up
there. We saw the tracks everywhere the next morning, but they had all
gone back to the woods.
The next day we went on farther toward Highland Co. Our next stop was
near a place called Franklin and some of the officers had some
Confederate money and they bought a few of the beautiful cattle and sent
them home.
We passed a stillhouse on our next move and all the boys got some
whiskey. That night, after the majority of us were asleep, we heard some
one coming along shouting and singing, and it proved to be Col.
Breckinridge’s colored waiting boy, Griffin Hawkins, just drunk enough
to be “mouthy.” I said, Griff, is that you? He said: “Yes Sir. Hurrah
for you.” Then he began calling the roll: “Ammen, Marcus; Bowyer, G. F.;
Bowyer, Wm.; Cahoon, C. C.,” and on until he called us all. Then he
said: “Geneman, you is de bravest men we is got. We’s goin’ to drive dem
d—d Yankees clear away, presently, and den I’s gwine home to see my
Hannah Jane. I’s gwine to tell her:
‘Roses is red,
Violets is blue,
Sugar am sweet
And so is you.’
Den she’ll love and I knows it.” We told him he was drunk and to go on
to bed, but he said: “No sir, I’s as sober as a judge. I knows every
geneman in dat tent.” Then he would call the roll again. Chas. Cahoon
had a nice horse, but it had a crooked tail and Chas. Would get very mad
when we teased him about it. Abe Moody had just been put on the
ambulance corps and we teased him and told him he wanted to shun
fighting, Griff knew all these jokes and remembered them when drunk. He
said then: “I knows you all and de kind of horse you rides. Dar’s Peck
R. H., did ride de flying artillery, until he flew so fast he got
wounded, and now he rides de grizzly gray. Ammen Marcus, rides de
roach-back, wid a hump on his back like a camel. Cahoon Chas., rides de
fine bay mare, Rhody, but watch dat crooked tail. Dat horse Dr. said to
tie the tail to the saddle gurf, and she’d tote it straight. But I say,
tie a big rock to de tail for a sinker and I bet she’d tote it straight
den.” By this time all the boys were awake and everybody roaring and
laughing. He finished his foolishness by saying: “I’s gwine to git on de
colonel’s horse and blow dat bugle and call out the 2nd Va. Cavalry and
run dem d——d yankees clean across de Potomac. If dey don’t git out it
dey’s lookout, and nobody cares, cause it aint our fault. I knows we’ll
run ’em off, if the ambulance corps will jes’ keep up. (Then we had the
laugh on Moody.) Geneman dis niggar is jes’ as stout as Sampson. I could
pull one of des trees up by de root, but ’taint no use. Sampson pulled
up dem gate posts and carried ’em on de hill. Well, I jes’ believes I
could carry dat tree on de hill, but ’taint no use.” He carried on like
this for a half hour or more, and it was about equal to a circus. He
kept saying how sober he was and laughing occasionally, saying if Rhody
would just keep her tail straight and the ambulance corps must keep up.
We crossed a very high range of the Alleghanies, as we went into
Highland county, and made our first encampment near where the Cow
Pasture and Bull Pasture rivers head and flow south. The southern
tributaries of the Potomac rise on the same elevation and flow north. We
could look both north and south, so far that nothing was discernible; it
just seemed that we were looking into space, or beyond the briny deep.
While there one of our scouts captured a man butchering a beef, and as
he couldn’t give any account of what he was going to do with it, or
anything, they decided he was a Swamp Dragoon. These Swamp Dragoons were
men who were opposed to the war and dodged both sides. We kept him
several days and as we were soon going to leave for Staunton, we decided
to let him get away. So some of us told him, when he saw that all of us
were asleep, to just step away cautiously and go home. After he left
some of us pretended to be very much alarmed and saddled and started
after him, calling halt! But we saw by his tracks the next morning, that
he hadn’t only run, but had bounded like a deer. He took about 11 feet
at a jump. When we reported to the officer of the guard, he said let him
go to the devil. We don’t need him and can’t prove he is a dragoon,
anyway.
The next morning we started toward Staunton and camped near there the
first night. The next day we crossed the mountain at Rock Fish Gap and
went into Albemarle county. On our way we passed a large two story mill.
I noticed there was a road on both the left and right of the mill and I
just dropped out of ranks and went in at the lower door by the left hand
road and took the sack at the meal chest that was partly filled with
meal and hung my empty one in its place. The miller, I knew, would be on
the upper floor watching the command pass. I hastened a little and by
the time my part of the command got to where the roads met, I was there
with meal enough for several days. I stopped at the next house to buy
some buttermilk and eggs to make into batter-bread with my meal. The
lady of the house would not charge me a cent, as I was a soldier, and I
learned afterward that the mill belonged to those very people. There
were several young ladies at the house, nearly grown, and in a few years
a neighbor of mine, Chas. Utz, married and when I went to the reception,
I recognized his bride as one of the young ladies I’d met at that house.
She was Miss Jennie Hansbrough, and it was from her father, Capt. Hiram
Hansbrough, that I’d taken the meal. It was steal or starve those days,
though, and I told the boys that Pharoah’s dream had taught me that in
time of plenty to always prepare for famine. I baked the meal into
batter-cakes that night, and as no one else had gotten any provision, I
had to bake it all for supper and divide among the hungry boys. I didn’t
even get a good ration for myself, much less my mess-mates. We all
always made it a rule to try to get enough for our mess-mates, as well
as ourselves, when foraging.
We stopped at North Garden and stayed a few days and rested our horses
and got supplies. The 1-2-3 and 4 regiments camped right together here,
and while there, in maneuvering around we found a moonshiner, who had
put a substitute in the war and had made thousands of dollars, I guess.
He had a fine four story brick barn and dwelling house. He was bringing
sugar, coffee, etc., into the confederate lines and selling at a great
big profit. He kept two stories of the barn locked all the time and we
were anxious to know what he kept in there and the boys wanted me to try
to find out. So I told him one day that he ought to have a guard at that
barn, that it wasn’t safe to leave it. He asked me if I wouldn’t guard
for him, but I was busy, so sent Ben Foster, a very shrewd fellow. He
helped the men to shuck corn and watched around, and I told him to get
in one of those upper stories and unlock a window, and there were some
boat “gunwales” in the barn yard that would just about reach to the
window. We could put them up at night and climb up and pull the window
open and help ourselves. Eight of us went and ordered the guard, Ben
Foster, to leave at the point of pistols, which was sham work, of
course, but he left. I climbed up and filled a sack of corn and rolled
it down on the plank, and one of the boys aimed to catch it, to keep it
from bursting, and when it hit him it nearly killed him for awhile. We
all had a laugh over it, when we saw he wasn’t hurt, and I told one of
the boys to come up and help me to explore and see what we could find.
One boy came and found what he thought was a sack of sugar. I got out
the window and caught the sack with my teeth, and went down the plank
feet-foremost, until near enough to the ground for the other boys to get
it I took all the sacks down this way and when we got back to camp and
opened our sacks and fed our horses the most of the corn, we opened the
sack of sugar, as we thought, but it proved to be clover seed. We wanted
to get it off of our hands and carried it over to the 3rd Regiment,
where they issued their rations and feed.
Next morning everybody wondered where and how it got there and when it
went over. I told them it had been sent by mistake to them, of course,
for sugar, or something. Some of our boys had been helping the old man
to shuck corn and he came over to us the next morning to know what had
become of the guard, and he had missed his clover seed, so found it, of
course. He had not missed his corn, but knew some one had been in the
barn, as the planks were still up at the window. He talked to me about
it and I told him I expected the fellow that helped him shuck had done
the mischief, and that it was a shame. He never suspected once that I
was the ring leader of the crowd.
A few days later Robt. Stevens and Isaac Hinkle came down to see their
sons in our company, and Ben thought he would like to send something
back to the folks at home, so he came in one morning with shoes, pants,
coats and socks that he had taken from his own quarter-master and sent
home to his father-in-law. He laughed and told me about it. We had
gotten so used to stealing that we thought it fun to see who could get
things in the closest quarters. Ben said, when he was home, that the old
man had on sheep skin shoes made with the wool out and looked worse than
old h——, and he knew he’d be proud of those shoes.
After leaving this camp, we made our next stop at Bowling Green,
Caroline county. We went into winter quarters here, but didn’t build log
huts, as we sometimes did. Just lived in our tents as two-thirds or more
of the winter had already passed.
We found plenty for ourselves and horses to eat. The corn was fine, ears
averaging about 15 inches. Our rations, as well as that for our horses,
was furnished by the Confederacy, so we didn’t have to steal now. The
place abounded in wild geese. They were just about as plentiful as the
English sparrows are here. They ate the growing wheat so badly that a
boy would often get on a mule and drive them out of the fields until
about noon, and then they would fly back toward the Chesapeake Bay.
As we had no drilling or fighting to do we had a good time. We had to
keep up picket duty, was about all, except our cooking, chopping wood
and taking care of our horses. One day, while here, a moonshiner came
into camp and was arrested. We had orders to put a middle-aged man and
one that could be trusted to guard. The Orderly Sergeant appointed
Ballard McClaugherty, a middle-aged man, alright, but it seems that
Ballard had seen the fellow too often and knew too much about him; but
the Orderly didn’t know that, of course. The days of prophets and judges
were over, but we still had men to prophesy, at times. Well, I for one,
prophesied that the moonshiner would get away that night. After
roll-call and taps were sounded and everybody had gone to bed, we were
suddenly awakened by the firing of a rifle and some one yelling “Halt!
halt! you d—— moonshiner,” and then a pistol fired three times. He then
yelled “Corporal of the guard, post No. 1.” The Corporal, hurrying to
the scene, said, “What’s wrong at post No. 1?” McC.’s bed-fellow, Jack
Driskel, said, “Why, Mc.’s moonshiner has gotten away.” “Well, where did
he go?” said the Corporal. “Oh, he’s gone hellwards, like hell beating
tan-bark,” said Driskel. We never heard of him again at camp, but I
think some of the boys saw him right often on the sly.
Everything moved on quietly until about the middle of March, when we
were ordered back to Richmond. Early was being pressed pretty closely in
the valley and we expected to be sent on there, but as Grant was
preparing for movement, we were held to help protect Richmond for a
couple of weeks. As soon as we got to Richmond, Gen. Lee issued an order
that any one who had served the four years in the war and wanted to go
home to be married, would be granted a ten days’ furlough. These men
could take any of the broken-down horses from the company and bring back
good ones. Two men from each company was all that would be allowed to go
at one time. They left and others put in applications for furloughs, but
before the first boys got back Grant kept us so busy that no one could
leave. We left Richmond for Five Forks, arriving there one Friday eve.
The next day, Sheridan made a charge on our infantry and killed and
captured a great many. We were ordered to re-inforce and protect the
infantry and we drove the enemy back a considerable distance. As we fell
back to our line, a skirmish line was formed, so we could pass over a
wider scope and see if there were any wounded that we could help. I came
across a splendid looking fellow, who didn’t look to be more than 15
years old, lying across a large clump of rock lillies. His head and feet
were on the ground, but his body was up on the lillies. I jumped from my
horse, thinking he was only stunned, but found he was dead. I never see
the beautiful waxy bloom of the rock lily, that I don’t think of the
fate of that fine looking boy, almost a child. I laid him flat on the
ground, but could do no more.
We overtook the 57th Va. Regiment of infantry as they were going back to
the breastworks. My brother-in-law, Lieut. John Dill, told me that they
had suffered a great lost, but not near so great as at Gettysburg. He
said that before we got there to re-inforce them, that Gen. Picket had
ordered them to cross the breastworks and drive Sheridan’s cavalry back.
They succeeded in driving them a short distance, but Sheridan
re-inforced his men and drove the infantry back with considerable
slaughter, but when he found we were reinforcing the infantry, his men
began to fall back, also. We went into camp just back of the roads. The
place took its name from the five roads leading from that point.
Everything was quiet Sunday morning, until after twelve o’clock. I
visited around among the Botetourt boys in the infantry during the time,
and after dinner the pickets came in and said the enemy was advancing,
and I looked and saw the enemy advancing in a few minutes, in five
columns one right after the other. I’d left my horse just behind the
breastworks and I ran back and got her. We had orders to fall into line
and for No. 3 to hold horses and to dismount. It fell to my lot to hold
horses, but the man next to me wasn’t a good runner, and I would rather
go into the battle and he said he had rather hold horses, so we just
exchanged places and I went on with the Co. We formed into line again
and counted off with fours as No. 3 had dropped out to hold horses.
Capt. James B. walked right down in front of us and asked for me, and
some one told him I was right in the front. He came to me and said I
thought you were out of ranks, I want to get your rifle and you go back
and get your horse and bring up ammunition. Guggenheimer isn’t here, so
you bring it. By the time I got about 300 yds. from the men of my Co.,
the firing had commenced. Just then I met Gen. Picket and his staff, and
he asked me, what was advancing. I told him it was infantry. He said:
“how strong?” I told him I had seen five lines in succession and I
didn’t know what was behind them, of course. He immediately wrote a
dispatch and gave it to a courier and sent it to the next officer in
command. He sent a part of his staff with the courier. He turned back
and went on just in front of me across Hatchers Run. I could hear the
firing all the time. It was terrific. There was a man with me from Co.
K. and we had some little trouble in finding the ordinance wagon but
were not gone longer than an hour. When we started back with the
ammunition, I saw that our forces were retreating. I soon came up to the
infantry, artillery and the whole army, retreating toward Lynchburg.
They told me that they had lost heavily. The enemy rushed right up and
took the breastworks, capturing a good portion of the 11th regiment of
infantry. Just about the time the infantry began to give away Capt. Jas.
Breckinridge was killed. Poor brave fellow. He had taken my rifle and
sent me out of the battle, when I had gone in after being drawn off to
hold horses. After his death Lieut. Hayth was appointed. Capt. Grant’s
army was then advancing on all the roads and we were trying to defend on
the same. We traveled on until about nightfall, when Sheridan’s cavalry
attacked our wagon train and at first we repulsed them, but they were
too strong for us and they succeeded in capturing some of our wagons and
men. We of the 2nd Va. cavalry were guarding the wagon train and several
of our men were killed. Capt. Strother of the 4th regiment was with us
and he went back to see if any of our men were left that we could help
and to see if the enemy was following. He didn’t come back for some time
and we called to him and the enemy had captured him and answered: “Here
is your Capt. Strother; come down and get him.” We kept marching in the
night, without food for ourselves or horses. When day broke when we
could have maybe found a little provisions, the enemy was pressing on so
that we had to continue marching. Gen. R. E. Lee had ordered a lot of
provisions to be sent to Amelia Springs and as we did not get there when
the train arrived, it was sent back, so our nearest source of supplies
was at Lynchburg, which was a long way off.
The next day the wagon train was attacked by a lot of colored cavalry,
but we succeeded in driving them off. I went into a stable to get some
feed for my horse and in getting the hay, found a black man shot in the
mouth, but not dead. I told the people of the house, to tell the Yankees
when they passed to care for him, that we couldn’t. The horses were so
worn out, not having food or rest, that they could hardly pull what few
wagons we had left. Some of the wagons were loaded with a lot of books,
statistics of the war, etc., and we came across such a muddy place, that
the horses couldn’t get the wagons through, so we threw a lot of the
books in, but that wouldn’t fill up the hole so we could cross. There
were no rails or timber near, so some of the men shot some of the poor
old worn out horses and dragged them into the mud hole and then drove
the teams and wagons across on their bodies. I couldn’t and wouldn’t do
that. I would have left the old wagons stand there forever, and turned
the horses loose, first. I knew, and the majority of us had known for
sometime, that we were whipped and the sooner we would surrender the
more lives would be saved and the less we’d have to suffer.
The next day the enemy pressed us closely at Wilson’s Creek, and Gen.
Pickett’s few men that were left, tried to hold the position, but nearly
all of them were captured. We were all engaged in the fight, but not a
great many were killed. That night, I saw Col. Munford, who was
commanding Gen. Wickham’s brigade, and his staff officers, stopping at a
farm house to get supper, and we had orders to stop, also. I had noticed
a double crib with some corn in it, and there was a “provost guard”
guarding the crib. We tried to get him to let us have some corn for our
horses, but he wouldn’t. I told him the next day the Yankees would come
and take it all and we had just as well have it. He had a gun and I
noticed he would let loose of the gun every few minutes and put his
hands in his bosom, as it was very cold. I just went away and sharpened
a tobacco stick and slipped his gun away and set the tobacco stick by,
instead. I hid the gun and then eight of us went up and told him we
wanted the corn. We had asked him two or three times, but got the same
reply each time. We told him we were going to take it now, no matter
what he said, and started into the crib. He reached for his gun, as he
supposed, and raised it at us, when he found he had nothing but a
tobacco stick. I said: “Now you see you’ve let some one steal your gun,
so we’ll get the corn.” He just had to laugh and let us take it. We got
about 8 bushels and divided it out as far as it would go. That was the
first good, full feed my horse had had since we left Carolina Co., a
week or ten days before.
Every few hours a courier would come with orders for us to ride back a
few miles to protect the rear and then we would have to come back and
rush to the front or on ahead for some purpose. We surely had a hard
time then and so little food or rest; none practically, you might say,
and then we had that feeling of working with no prospect for better
times. We didn’t get any food for ourselves again that night, but was
glad to get corn for the horses, as they had a worse time yet, than we.
The next morning, after marching all night, Capt. Trent, our regimental
quarter-master, sent me on ahead of the army about thirty miles, to a
Mr. Gill’s farm. He told me to go to a farm house on the right hand road
and get breakfast and my horse fed, which I did, and then take a road
parallel to the road the army was moving on.
I got there about night and told Mr. Gill the circumstances. He had been
getting the tenth part of all the crops and provisions in that section
of the county and sending it to the army. So Capt. Trent sent me ahead,
thinking he might probably have something for the starving men and
horses. He said he had sent everything he could get to the army and
could only feed me and my horse. He told me that men had been passing
for three days and nights and he thought the whole thing was over and
the soldiers going home. I told him who I’d left just behind and how
we’d been fighting and marching day and night and what hardships we had
undergone. He had me to register and stay all night with him, of course.
I knew the army couldn’t get there before the next day, even if the
enemy didn’t attack them, for we were a poor, wornout set of men and
horses, and moved very slowly. The next morning we went out to the road
and the stragglers were still passing. These were men going on home.
After awhile our men came on and when they found Mr. Gill had no
provisions, we just had to go on until night. The enemy was not pressing
so we lay down to sleep, but didn’t get to sleep long, for orders came
in the night for us to move on.
We went slowly, and at daybreak we were ordered to dismount and went
down a little slope and found a lot of Yankee infantry guarding the
Farmville Bridge. We fired on them and they on us, but we soon captured
Gen. Curtiss and his whole brigade. The infantry, at first, ran and left
a lot of knapsacks, and we ransacked them to find something to eat, but
found nothing. General Curtiss surrendered without much resistance, so
not a great many were killed. We left a young fellow by the name of
William Fields at Sailor’s Creek dead, as we thought, and at Farmville
we lost another fellow, Luck, and I never knew anything of either of
them again until the summer of 1911, when I met both at a reunion at New
Port News.
The attack was just at daybreak and Luck told me that the Yankees
captured him at Farmville and then we recaptured them all and we thought
he had been killed, but he was sent on with Gen. Curtiss’ men. The
bridge was 300 feet, and as soon as we captured the men and took the
obstruction from the railroad track, the waiting trains moved on. As the
fog rose, and the trains whistled, we looked up and saw them moving so
high above us, that I told the boys there was Gabriel coming in the
clouds blowing his bugle.
We marched Gen. Curtiss and his men on toward Lynchburg, and he and the
Yankees were all just as nice as they could be. They had to go on, just
like we did, without provisions. The provost guard soon took charge of
them and went on toward Lynchburg, but may have disbanded before getting
there as the surrender took place the next day.
Gen. R. E. Lee, with the remainder of the army, had been forced to leave
Richmond before this and was moving on toward Lynchburg, and got with us
the same day of our capture at Farmville Bridge.
At night we laid down to rest, but still without food. I had fared a
little better than some of them, as I was sent out to Mr. Gill’s and got
three meals on that trip. All of the men Lee had with him had fared just
like us. If they got anything to eat at all, they begged it from
citizens in passing by or stole it, and the great trouble was there was
so little left to steal. The country was stripped.
The next morning Fitz Lee’s cavalry was ordered to charge the enemy’s
left flank as they had gotten in front of us to cut us off from
Lynchburg. We charged them and drove them back toward Appomattox C. H.
When we got around on the road leading from Appomattox to Lynchburg, we
met some of the boys who had gotten furloughs, 10 days before, to go
home to be married, and were then on their way back to the army. We
congratulated them and they fell into line with us. Just then a charge
was ordered and we charged right down toward Appomattox C. H., and the
first volley that was fired on us killed Lieut. Parker of Co. G, who had
joined us just about five minutes before and we had just congratulated.
Jas. Godwin, of Co. C., who had fought through the whole time unharmed
was wounded then. The ambulance corps took him to the rear and on to
Lynchburg, and we hadn’t gone but a few hundred yards, when we saw a
flag of truce coming up the road. The bearers of the flag came on to
Fitz Lee and told him that Robt. E. Lee had surrendered. Fitz Lee
received orders to disband his whole division right then. Col. Munford
disbanded the 1-3-4 and 5 regiments on the grounds, but as we of the
second had been mustered into service at Lynchburg and it was right on
our way home, he took us there to disband us. We went out to the fair
grounds, just where we had drilled and had been mustered in, four years
before. There is a nice park at this place now, and the U. S. government
presented Col. Munford and the 2nd Va. cavalry with two pieces of
artillery and placed them in this park with two pyramids of cannon
balls, to mark the place where his men were mustered into service and
disbanded.
As we passed through Lynchburg, some one told us that one of our men who
had been wounded wanted to go home with us and was able to ride on horse
back. It proved to be Jas. Godwin. He had been shot in the foot, but had
it dressed and was anxious to get home, so we started with him. When we
got to a bridge on the outskirts of the town we found an Irish sentinel
guarding the city. When we got in sight he yelled at us like a steam
engine and we halted. He said: “Dismount and advance one and give the
countersign.” I did so and told him I had no countersign or pass word,
but that Gen. Lee’s army had surrendered at Appomattox that day and we
were on our way home. He said: “Surrindered! Hill and damnation! you
know Gen. Lee wouldn’t surrinder to such a d—— rascal as Ulysses Grant.
You are both d—— deserters.” I told him we were not. He then said we
couldn’t get by without a pass from Gen. Colston who was Mayor of the
town and had charge of the army post and hospitals etc. I got on my
horse and told him I had fought four years in this war and had been in
54 battles, the last one that day at Appomattox in which the man with me
had been wounded and I was taking him home and that I was going over
that bridge if he or I one had to die. At that I leveled my pistol on
him and told him to fire if he wanted to. He said: “Damned if I don’t
believe something is in the wind boys, and you can go on.” Then he told
us he was from Louisianna and had been wounded and sent to the hospital
and was sent out there, and if he got near our place in going back home,
he’d like to stay all night with me. I told him I’d do any thing in my
power to help a fellow soldier and with that we passed over the bridge.
Night overtook us at William Henry Kyle’s, a few miles above Lynchburg,
so we spent a very pleasant night with him, as he had visited his
brother, Haslet Kyle, who was in our Co., several times during the war.
We journeyed on up the “tow path” and passed a good many of the infantry
coming on home. In many places the road was lined for some distance with
them. Just after 12 o’clock we came to Dr. Watson’s and we ate dinner
and spent several hours with him. He dressed Jim’s foot and treated us
very kindly. One of his daughters married one of our countrymen, Richard
Hayden, deceased.
We passed the home of Dick Burks that evening. He had served as our
adjutant the first year of the war. He insisted on us spending the night
with him, but we were so anxious to get home that we went on several
miles farther and spent the night with a Mr. Arnold who lived near
Natural Bridge. They were very kind indeed to us, not charging a cent
for us or our horses. The next morning, which was the 11th, we started
on our last day’s ride for home. We got to Springwood just after the
middle of the day and good old hospitable aunt Katie Hayth, whose door
was never closed on the wayfarer, made us eat dinner with her. After
resting awhile we made a start for Fincastle, arriving there about 3
o’clock.
I turned Jim over to his mother at his home. He stood the trip very well
and soon recovered from his wound. We had left amid the cheers and tears
of an excellent throng, feeling that we would soon be victorious and
return, but none felt joyous now, only to see the few who were left
returning.
[Illustration: R. H. PECK, 1913.]
When I got to the Court House several had heard I was coming and met me
there. I told the boys I’d left home the 17th of May ’61 to fight
Yankees and at the first battle of Manassas, we fought full fledged
American Yankees and they were gentlemen, but after that we fought every
nationality, I think, unless it was Esquimos. They had been hired by the
Yankees, of course, and some of them were tough customers I tell you.
I reached home that eve with my dappled gray that I captured in Stafford
Co., near Kelley’s Ford in ’63 and which Gen. Stewart had given me. I
also had the gun with me, that I had to take from the provost guard to
get corn for our starving horses, on the horrible retreat, just a few
days before the surrender. I still have it among my war relics.
Mother met me at the gate and I told her I hadn’t a single regret. I
felt I had answered my country’s call and discharged my duty, but all
the time I was fighting for what my state thought best and against my
own convictions.
My father was offered $8,000 for his slaves just before the war and I
begged him to take it and not own slaves. I never thought slavery was
right, although my father treated his slaves as kindly as any one
possibly could and they were good and obedient.
The many happy days that our old black mammy took us children out to
gather hickorynuts, pick beans or do any kind of light work or play, are
still fresh in my memory to day. And the many coon, and opossum and
rabbit hunts, that her boy Jack who was just a few years older than I,
and myself have had together. He was always so thoughtful of our
wellfare and protected me and my brothers, more like an older brother
than a slave.
I told mother how I’d been in 54 engagements, some hard fought and
others not, but in nearly every one, some of my relatives, friends or
acquaintances, were killed or wounded. We had left them buried or on the
field in Md., Penn., all through the Valley of Va., at Manassas
Junction, through the Wilderness of Spottsylvania, over the battle
fields holding Sheridan back from Richmond, holding Grant back from
Spottsylvania, on around to Petersburg and then to Appomattox C. H. None
of father’s slaves left him for a year or more but he paid them some
wages, of course, and they seemed as sad and disconsolate as we were
when they did leave. My father was getting old, and as he had been
security for a number of men who had lost their wealth in slaves, just
as he had, he was placed in straightened circumstances. So we had to
soon forget for a time, the sorrows we had passed through and turn our
minds to caring for those around us. None of our property had been
stolen or burned by raiders, so we were better off than the thousands of
households and farms we had passed by, during the war and from whom we
were obliged to steal some times or starve. While I often thought of
four of the best years of my youth being wasted, as it was, in a lost
cause, I didn’t regret it as it was obeying my country’s call, whether
it was right or wrong. I had much to be thankful for and especially as I
had gone through the whole war and hadn’t gotten a scar. God has blessed
me with health and strength and while I’ve never had any of the luxuries
of life, I’ve been, and am still, at my advanced age, able to enjoy its
comforts.
THE END.
Transcriber's Note:
This book uses inconsistent spelling and hyphenation; the
inconsistencies were retained from the original text.
Obvious spelling and punctuation errors were corrected. When an
incorrect spelling was used consistently it was not corrected.
Ditto marks have been replaced by the text they represent.