MARCHES THROUGH PINE FORESTS.
FOR exasperating heat, commend me to a pine forest.
Those tall and almost branchless Southern pines were simply smothering.
In the fringed tops the wind swayed the delicate limbs, while not a
breath descended to us below. We fumed and fussed, but not
ill-naturedly, when trying to find a spot in which to take a nap. If we
put ourselves in a narrow strip of shadow made by the slender trunk of a
tree, remorseless Sol followed persistently, and we drowsily dragged
ourselves to another, to be pursued in the same determined manner and
stared into instant wakefulness by the burning rays.
The General had reveillé sounded at 2 o'clock in the morning, causing
our scamp to remark, _sotto voce_, that if we were to be routed out in
the night, he thought he would eat his breakfast the evening before, in
order to save time. It was absolutely necessary to move before dawn, as
the moment the sun came in sight the heat was suffocating. It was so
dark when we set out that it was with difficulty we reached the main
road, from our night's camp, in safety. My husband tossed me into the
saddle, and cautioned me to follow as close as my horse could walk, as
we picked our way over logs and through ditches or underbrush. Custis
Lee[A] was doglike in his behavior at these times. He seemed to aim to
put his hoof exactly in the footprint of the General's horse. In times
of difficulty or moments of peril, he evidently considered that he was
following the commanding officer rather than carrying me. I scarcely
blamed him, much as I liked to control my own horse, and gladly let the
bridle slacken on his neck as he cautiously picked his circuitous way;
but once on the main road, the intelligent animal allowed me to take
control again. Out of the dark my husband's voice came cheerily, as if
he were riding in a path of sunshine: "Are you all right?" "Give Lee his
head." "Trust that old plug of yours to bring you out ship-shape." This
insult to my splendid, spirited, high-stepping F. F. V.--for he was that
among horses, as well as by birth--was received calmly by his owner,
especially as the sagacious animal was taking better care of me than I
could possibly take of myself, and I spent a brief time in calling out a
defense of him through the gloom of the forest. This little diversion
was indulged in now and again by the General to provoke an argument, and
thus assure himself that I was safe and closely following; and so it
went on, before day and after dark; there was no hour or circumstance
out of which we did not extract some amusement.
The nights, fortunately, were cool; but such dews fell, and it was so
chilly that we were obliged to begin our morning march in thick coats,
which were tossed off as soon as the sun rose. The dews drenched the
bedding. I was sometimes sure that it was raining in the night, and woke
my husband to ask to have the ambulance curtains of our bed lowered; but
it was always a false alarm; not a drop of rain fell in that blistering
August. I soon learned to shut our clothes in a little valise at night,
after undressing in the tent, to ensure dry linen in the penetrating
dampness of the morning. My husband lifted me out of the wagon, when
reveillé sounded, into the tent, and by the light of a tallow candle I
had my bath and got into my clothes, combing my hair straight back, as
it was too dark to part it. Then, to keep my shoes from being soaked
with the wet grass, I was carried to the dining-tent, and lifted upon my
horse afterward.
One of my hurried toilets was stopped short one morning by the loss of
the body of my riding-habit. In vain I tossed our few traps about to
find it, and finally remembered that I had exchanged the waist for a
jacket, and left it under a tree where we had been taking a siesta the
day before. Eliza had brought in the blanket, books, and hats, but alas
for my dress body! it was hopelessly lost. In a pine forest, dark and
thick with fallen trees, what good did one tallow dip do in the hasty
search we made? A column of thousands of men could not be detained for a
woman's gown. My husband had asked me to braid the sleeves like his own
velvet jacket. Five rows of gilt braid in five loops made a dash of
color that he liked, which, though entirely out of place in a
thoroughfare, was admissible in our frontier life. He regretted the
loss, but insisted on sending for more gilt braid as soon as we were out
of the wilderness, and then began to laugh to himself and wonder if the
traveler that came after us, not knowing who had preceded him, might not
think he had come upon a part of the wardrobe of a circus troupe. It
would have been rather serious joking if in the small outfit in my
valise I had not brought a jacket, for which, though it rendered me more
of a fright than sun and wind had made me, I still was very thankful;
for without the happy accident that brought it along, I should have been
huddled inside the closed ambulance, waistless and alone. Our looks did
not enter into the question very much. All we thought of was how to keep
from being prostrated by the heat, and how to get rested after the march
for the next day's task.
We had a unique character for a guide. He was a citizen of Texas, who
boasted that not a road or a trail in the State was unfamiliar to him.
His mule, Betty, was a trial; she walked so fast that no one could keep
up with her, but not faster did she travel than her master's tongue. As
we rode at the head of the column, the sun pouring down upon our heads,
we would call out to him, "In heaven's name, Stillman, how much longer
is this to keep up?" meaning, When shall we find a creek on which to
camp? "Oh, three miles further you're sure to find a bold-flowin'
stream," was his confident reply; and, sure enough, the grass began to
look greener, the moss hung from the trees, the pines were varied by
beautiful cypress, or some low-branched tree, and hope sprang up in our
hearts. The very horses showed, by quickening step, they knew what
awaited us. Our scorched and parched throats began to taste, in
imagination, what was our idea of a bold-flowing stream--it was cool and
limpid, dancing over pebbles on its merry way. We found ourselves in
reality in the bed of a dried creek, nothing but pools of muddy water,
with a coating of green mold on the surface. The Custers made use of
this expression the rest of their lives. If ever we came to a puny,
crawling driblet of water, they said, "This must be one of Stillman's
bold-flowing streams." On we went again, with that fabricator calling
out from Betty's back, "Sho' to find finest water in the land five miles
on!" Whenever he had "been in these parts afore, he had always found at
all seasons a roaring torrent." One day we dragged through forty miles
of arid land, and after passing the dried beds of three streams, the
General was obliged to camp at last, on account of the exhausted horses,
on a creek with pools of muddy, standing water, which Stillman, coming
back to the column, described as "rather low." This was our worst day,
and we felt the heat intensely, as we usually finished our march and
were in camp before the sun was very high. I do not remember one good
drink of water on that march. When it was not muddy or stagnant, it
tasted of the roots of the trees. Some one had given my husband some
claret for me when we set out, and but for that, I don't really know how
the thirst of the midsummer days could have been endured. The General
had already taught himself not to drink between meals, and I was trying
to do so. All he drank was his mug of coffee in the early morning and at
dinner, and cold tea or coffee, which Eliza kept in a bottle, for
luncheon.
[Illustration: GENERAL CUSTER AS A CADET.]
The privations did not quench the buoyancy of those gay young fellows.
The General and his staff told stories and sang, and a man with good
descriptive powers recounted the bills of fare of good dinners and
choice viands he had enjoyed, while we knew we had nothing to anticipate
in this wilderness but army fare. Sometimes, as we marched along, almost
melted with heat, and our throats parched for water, the odor of
cucumbers was wafted toward us. Stillman, the guide, being called on for
an explanation, as we wondered if we were nearing a farm, slackened
Betty, waited for us, and took down our hopes by explaining that it was
a certain species of snake, which infested that part of the country. The
scorpions, centipedes and tarantulas were daily encountered. I not only
grew more and more unwilling to take my nap, after the march was over,
under a tree, but made life a burden to my husband till he gave up
flinging himself down anywhere to sleep, and induced him to take his
rest in the traveling wagon. I had been indolently lying outstretched in
a little grateful shade one day, when I was hurriedly roused by some
one, and moved to avoid what seemed to me a small, dried twig. It was
the most venomous of snakes, called the pine-tree rattlesnake. It was
very strange that we all escaped being stung or bitten in the midst of
thousands of those poisonous reptiles and insects. One teamster died
from a scorpion's bite, and, unfortunately, I saw his bloated,
disfigured body as we marched by. It lay on a wagon, ready for burial,
without even a coffin, as we had no lumber.
What was most aggravating were two pests of that region, the seed-tick
and the chigger. The latter bury their heads under the skin, and when
they are swollen with blood, it is almost impossible to extract them
without leaving the head imbedded. This festers, and the irritation is
almost unbearable. If they see fit to locate on neck, face or arms, it
is possible to outwit them in their progress; but they generally choose
that unattainable spot between the shoulders, and the surgical operation
of taking them out with a needle or knife-point, must devolve upon some
one else. To ride thus with the skin on fire, and know that it must be
endured till the march was ended, caused some grumbling, but it did not
last long. The enemy being routed, out trilled a song or laugh from
young and happy throats. If we came to a sandy stretch of ground, loud
groans from the staff began, and a cry, "We're in for the chiggers!" was
an immediate warning. We all grew very wary of lying down to rest in
such a locality, but were thankful that the little pests were not
venomous. There's nothing like being where something dangerous lies in
wait for you, to teach submission to what is only an irritating
inconvenience.
One of the small incidents out of which we invariably extracted fun, was
our march at dawn past the cabins of the few inhabitants. On the open
platform, sometimes covered, but often with no roof, which connects the
two log huts, the family are wont to sleep in hot weather. There they
lay on rude cots, and were only awakened by the actual presence of the
cavalry, of whose approach they were unaware. The children sat up in
bed, in wide-gaping wonder; the grown people raised their heads, but
instantly ducked under the covers again, thinking they would get up in a
moment, as soon as the cavalcade had passed. From time to time a head
was cautiously raised, hoping to see the end of the column. Then such a
shout from the soldiers, a fusillade of the wittiest comments, such as
only soldiers can make--for I never expect to hear brighter speeches
than issue from a marching column--and down went the venturesome head,
compelled to obey an unspoken military mandate and remain "under cover."
There these people lay till the sun was scorching them, imprisoned under
their bed-clothes by modesty, while the several thousand men filed by,
two by two, and the long wagon-train in the rear had passed the house.
There came a day when I could not laugh and joke with the rest. I was
mortified to find myself ill--I, who had been pluming myself on being
such a good campaigner, my desire to keep well being heightened by
overhearing the General boasting to Tom that "nothing makes the old lady
ill." We did not know that sleeping in the sun in that climate brings on
a chill, and I had been frightened away from the snake-infested ground,
where there might be shade, to the wagon for my afternoon sleep. It was
embarrassing in the extreme. I could neither be sent back, nor remain in
that wilderness, which was infested by guerrillas. The surgeon compelled
me to lie down on the march. It was very lonely, for I missed the
laughter and story at the head of the column, which had lightened the
privations of the journey. The soil was so shallow that the wagon was
kept on a continual joggle by the roots of the trees over which we
passed. This unevenness was of course not noticeable on horseback, but
now it was painfully so at every revolution of the wheels. The General
and Tom came back to comfort me every now and again, while Eliza
"mammied" and nursed me, and rode in the seat by the driver. It was
"break-bone fever." No one knowing about it can read these words and not
feel a shudder. I believe it is not dangerous, but the patient is
introduced, in the most painful manner, to every bone in his body.
Incredible as it used to seem when, in school, we repeated the number of
bones, it now became no longer a wonder, and the only marvel was, how
some of the smallest on the list could contain so large an ache. I used
to lie and speculate how one slender woman could possibly conceal so
many bones under the skin. Anatomy had been on the list of hated books
in school; but I began then to study it from life, in a manner that made
it likely to be remembered. The surgeon, as is the custom of the
admirable men of that profession in the army, paid me the strictest
attention, and I swallowed quinine, it seemed to me, by the spoonful. As
I had never taken any medicine to speak of, it did its duty quickly, and
in a few days I was lifted into the saddle, tottering and light-headed,
but partly relieved from the pain, and very glad to get back to our
military family, who welcomed me so warmly that I was aglow with
gratitude. I wished to ignore the fact that I had fallen by the way, and
was kept in lively fear that they would all vote me a bother. After
that, my husband had the soldiers who were detailed for duty at
headquarters, when they cut the wood for camp-fires, build a rough
shade of pine branches over the wagon, when we reached camp. Even that
troubled me, though the kind-hearted fellows did not seem to mind it;
but the General quieted me by explaining that the men, being excused
from night duty as sentinels, would not mind building the shade as much
as losing their sleep, and, besides, we were soon afterward out of the
pine forest and on the prairie.
Our officers suffered dreadfully on that march, though they made light
of it, and were soon merry after a trial or hardship was over. The
drenching dews chilled the air that was encountered just at daybreak.
They were then plunged into a steam bath from the overpowering sun, and
the impure water told frightfully on their health. I have seen them turn
pale and almost reel in the saddle, as we marched on. They kept quinine
in their vest-pockets, and horrified me by taking large quantities at
any hour when they began to feel a chill coming on, or were especially
faint. Our brother Tom did not become quite strong, after his attack of
fever, for a long time, and had inflammatory rheumatism at Fort Riley a
year or more afterward, which the surgeons attributed to his Texas
exposure. I used to see the haggard face of the adjutant-general,
Colonel Jacob Greene, grow drawn and gray with the inward fever that
filled his veins and racked his bones with pain. The very hue of his
skin comes back to me after all these years, for we grieved over his
suffering, as we had all just welcomed him back from the starvation of
Libby Prison.
I rode in their midst, month after month, ever revolving in my mind the
question, whence came the inexhaustible supply of pluck that seemed at
their command, to meet all trials and privations, just as their
unfaltering courage had enabled them to go through the battles of the
war? And yet, how much harder it was to face such trials, unsupported by
the excitement of the trumpet-call and the charge. There was no wild
clamor of war to enable them to forget the absence of the commonest
necessities of existence. In Texas and Kansas, the life was often for
months unattended by excitement of any description. It was only to be
endured by a grim shutting of the teeth, and an iron will. The mother of
one of the fallen heroes of the Seventh Cavalry, who passed
uncomplainingly through the privations of the frontier, and gave up his
life at last, writes to me in a recent letter that she considers "those
late experiences of hardship and suffering, so gallantly borne, by far
the most interesting of General Custer's life, and the least known." For
my part I was constantly mystified as I considered how our officers,
coming from all the wild enthusiasm of their Virginia life, could, as
they expressed it, "buckle down" to the dull, exhausting days of a
monotonous march.
Young as I then was, I thought that to endure, to fight for and
inflexibly pursue a purpose or general principle like patriotism, seemed
to require far more patience and courage than when it is individualized.
I did not venture to put my thoughts into words, for two reasons: I was
too wary to let them think I acknowledged there were hardships, lest
they might think I repented having come; for I knew then, as I know now,
but feared they did not, that I would go through it all a hundred times
over, if inspired by the reasons that actuated me. In the second place,
I had already found what a habit it is to ridicule and make light of
misfortune or vicissitude. It cut me to the quick at first, and I
thought the officers and soldiers lacking in sympathy. But I learned to
know what splendid, loyal friends they really were, if misfortune came
and help was needed; how they denied themselves to loan money, if it is
the financial difficulty of a friend; how they nursed one another in
illness or accident; how they quietly fought the battles of the absent;
and one occasion I remember, that an officer, being ill, was unable to
help himself when a soldier behaved in a most insolent manner, and his
brother officer knocked him down, but immediately apologized to the
captain for taking the matter out of his hands. A hundred ways of
showing the most unswerving fidelity taught me, as years went on, to
submit to what I still think the deplorable habit, if not of ridicule,
of suppressed sympathy. I used to think that even if a misfortune was
not serious, it ought to be recognized, and none were afraid of showing
that they possessed truly tender, gentle, sympathetic natures, with me
or with any woman that came among them.
The rivers, and even the small streams, in Texas have high banks. It is
a land of freshets, and the most innocent little rill can rise to a
roaring torrent in no time. Anticipating these crossings, we had in our
train a pontoon bridge. We had to make long halts while this bridge was
being laid, and then, oh! the getting down to it. If the sun was high,
and the surgeon had consigned me to the traveling-wagon, I looked down
the deep gulley with more than inward quaking. My trembling hands
clutched wildly at the seat and my head was out at the side to see my
husband's face, as he directed the descent, cautioned the driver, and
encouraged me. The brake was frequently not enough, and the soldiers had
to man the wheels, for the soil was wet and slippery from the constant
passing of the pioneer force, who had laid the bridge. The heavy wagons,
carrying the boats and lumber for the bridge, had made the side-hill a
difficult bit of ground to traverse. The four faithful mules apparently
sat down and slid to the water's edge; but the driver, so patient with
my quiet imploring to go slowly, kept his strong foot on the brake and
knotted the reins in his powerful hands. I blessed him for his caution,
and then at every turn of the wheel I implored him again to be careful.
Finally, when I poured out my thanks at the safe transit, the color
mounted in his brown face, as if he had led a successful charge. In
talking at night to Eliza, of my tremors as we plunged down the bank and
were bounced upon the pontoon, which descended to the water's edge under
the sudden rush with which we came, I added my praise of the driver's
skill, which she carefully repeated as she slipped him, on the sly, the
mug of coffee and hot biscuits with which she invariably rewarded merit,
whether in officers or men. When I could, I made these descents on
horseback, and climbed up the opposite bank with my hands wound in
Custis Lee's abundant mane.
Eliza, in spite of her constant lookout for some variety for our table,
could seldom find any vegetables, even at the huts we passed. Corn pone
and chine were the principal food of these shiftless citizens,
butternut-colored in clothing and complexion, indifferent alike to food
and to drink. At the Sabine River the water was somewhat clearer. The
soldiers, leading their horses, crossed carefully, as it was dangerous
to stop here, lest the weight should carry the bridge under; but they
are too quick-witted not to watch every chance to procure a comfort, and
they tied strings to their canteens and dragged them beside the bridge,
getting, even in that short progress, one tolerably good drink. The
wagon-train was of course a long time in crossing, and dinner looked
dubious to our staff. Our faithful Eliza, as we talk over that march,
will prove in her own language, better than I can portray, how she
constantly bore our comfort on her mind:
"Miss Libbie, do you mind, after we crossed the Sabine River, we went
into camp? Well, we hadn't much supplies, and the wagons wasn't up; so,
as I was a-waitin' for you all, I says to the boys, 'Now, you make a
fire, and I'll go a-fishin'.' The first thing, I got a fish--well, as
long as my arm. It was big, and jumped so it scart me, and I let the
line go, but one of the men caught hold and jumped for me and I had him,
and went to work on him right away. I cleaned him, salted him, rolled
him in flour, and fried him; and, Miss Libbie, we had a nice platter of
fish, and the General was just delighted when he came up, and he was
surprised, too, and he found his dinner--for I had some cold biscuit and
a bottle of tea in the lunch-box--while the rest was a-waitin' for the
supplies to come up. For while all the rest was a-waitin', I went
fishin', mind you!"
FOOTNOTE:
[A] My horse was captured from a staff-officer of General Custis Lee
during the war, purchased by my husband from the Government, and named
for the Confederate general.