OAKLAND--RETURN TO CAMP--OFF DUTY AGAIN--THE RACE FROM NEW MARKET TO
FORT GILMORE--ATTACK ON FORT HARRISON--WINTER-QUARTERS ON THE
LINES--VISITS TO RICHMOND
The desolation and dejection of the people of Lexington hastened my
departure, but before returning to the army I spent two weeks most
delightfully at "Oakland," the hospitable home of Mrs. Cocke, in
Cumberland County, Virginia. This was the last opportunity I had of
enjoying the "old plantation life," the like of which can never again be
experienced. It was an ideal life, the comforts and advantages of which
only those who followed it could appreciate. Two of Mrs. Cocke's sons,
who had passed many years at school and college in Lexington, were at
home--one on sick-leave; the other, still a youth, equipping himself for
the cavalry service, which he soon entered. William, the eldest son, had
been killed at Gettysburg and his body never recovered.
Every day at twelve o'clock sharp delicious watermelons were brought
from the icehouse to the shade of the stately oaks which adorned the
spacious lawn; then, two hours later, after a sumptuous dinner, a
small darky brought from the kitchen a shovel of coals (matches were not
a Southern product) to light our pipes. So the time passed. It was to
this hospitable home that General Lee retired with his family
immediately after Appomattox, and was living on this estate when he
accepted the presidency of Washington College.
[Illustration: ROBERT FRAZER]
My wounds being now sufficiently, or rather temporarily, healed, I
embarked about bedtime at Cartersville on the canal packet boat. On my
way to a berth in the cabin I noticed, by the dim light, a
striking-looking man clad in white lying in his berth. On the deck of
the boat were a score or more of negroes, male and female, singing so
boisterously that the other passengers could not sleep. Such conduct at
this time was felt to be significant, and the more so as the officers of
the boat refrained from interfering. Without intimation there was a leap
from my neighboring bunk, a hurried scramble up the stairway, followed
by a volley of--secular language, with a demand for instantaneous choice
between "dead silence and dead niggers." Thenceforward stillness
prevailed, broken at intervals when the plaintive windings of the packet
horn, rising and falling with the motion of the tandem team, heralded
our approach to a lock. Who that ever boarded that ancient craft, or
dwelt within its sound, will cease to recall the associations awakened
by the voice of the old packet horn?
Next morning I recognized my fellow-countyman, Bob Greenlee, of the
First Virginia Cavalry, as the man whose eloquence had terrorized the
negroes. Greenlee has been aptly styled "a rare bird," and the accounts
he gave of experiences during his sick-leave, from which he was now
returning, were as good as "David Harum."
I found the battery stationed at New Market, on the north side of the
James, near Dutch Gap. During my absence it had suffered the only
serious loss of the kind it had experienced during the war--the capture
of all four of its twenty-pound Parrott guns at Deep Bottom. The horses,
as usual, had been taken to the rear for safety. The infantry support
had been out-flanked, leaving our guns almost surrounded, so that the
cannoneers escaped with difficulty--only one of them, Andrew Darnall,
being captured.
The ranks of the company had been considerably depleted by chills and
fever, so prevalent in that swampy region, and one death had
occurred--that of John Gibbs, a most excellent soldier. Less than a
week's sojourn was sufficient to poison my blood and reopen an old wound
received two years before. I was sent to Richmond, but twenty-four
hours' experience in a hospital among the sick, the wounded, and the
dying induced me to get a discharge and work my way, by hook and crook,
back to Oakland, where I underwent a severe visitation of chills and
fever. This, however, was soon broken up by quinine, and I again
rejoined the battery.
The summer now drawing to a close had been a most trying one, and the
future offered no sign of relief. The situation was one of simply
waiting to be overwhelmed. That the fighting spirit was unimpaired was
demonstrated in every encounter, notably the one on July 30, at The
Crater, near Petersburg.
During the night of September 28 there was heard the continued rumbling
of wheels and the tramp of large forces of the enemy crossing on the
pontoon bridges from the south to the north side of the James. At dawn
next morning we hurriedly broke camp, as did Gary's brigade of cavalry
camped close by, and scarcely had time to reach high ground and unlimber
before we were attacked. The big gaps in our lines, entirely undefended,
were soon penetrated, and the contest quickly became one of speed to
reach the shorter line of fortifications some five miles nearer to and
in sight of Richmond. The break through our lines was on our right,
which placed the Federals almost in our rear, so that a detour of
several miles on our part was necessary. On the principle that the
chased dog is generally the fleetest, we succeeded in reaching the
breastworks, a short distance to the left of Fort Gilmore, with all four
guns, now ten-pound Parrotts, followed by the straggling cannoneers much
exhausted. I vividly recall George Ginger, who was No. 1 at one of the
guns, as he came trotting in with the gun-rammer on his shoulder, which
he had carried five miles through brush and brake for want of time to
replace it on the gun-carriage.
Much has been written about the defense of Fort Gilmore, and much
controversy as to who deserved the credit. The fact that a superb fight
was made was fully apparent when we entered the fort an hour later,
while the negroes who made the attack were still firing from behind
stumps and depressions in the cornfield in front, to which our artillery
replied with little effect. The Fort was occupied by about sixty men
who, I understood, were Mississippians. The ditch in front was eight or
ten feet deep and as many in width. Into it, urged on by white officers,
the negroes leaped, and to scale the embankment on the Fort side climbed
on each other's shoulders, and were instantly shot down as their heads
appeared above it. The ground beyond was strewn with dead and wounded. A
full regiment had preceded us into the Fort, but the charge on it had
been repulsed by the small force before its arrival.
Next morning we counted twenty-three dead negroes in the ditch, the
wounded and prisoners having previously been removed. There was great
lamentation among them when "Corporal Dick" fell. He was a conspicuous
leader, jet black, and bald as a badger. A mile to the right of Fort
Gilmore and one-fourth of a mile in advance of our line of breastworks
was Fort Harrison, which was feebly garrisoned by reserves. This force
had been overpowered and the Fort taken by the Federals. Two days
later, and after it had been completely manned with infantry and
artillery, an unsuccessful attempt was made to recapture it, of which we
had a full view. The attack was made by Colquitt's and Anderson's
brigades, while General Lee stood on the parapet of Fort Gilmore with
field-glass in hand, waving his hat and cheering lustily. Of course our
loss in killed, wounded, and captured was very heavy. This ended the
fighting, except sharpshooting, on the north side of the James.
During our stay in Fort Gilmore a company of Reserves from Richmond took
the place of the regular infantry. They were venerable-looking old
gentlemen--lawyers, business men, etc., dressed in citizens' clothes. In
order to accustom them to the service, we supposed, they were frequently
roused during the night to prepare for battle. After several repetitions
of this they concluded, about two o'clock one night, that it was useless
to retire again and go through the same performance, so a party of them
kindled a fire and good-humoredly sat around in conversation on various
subjects, one of which was infant baptism. My bedfellow, Tom Williamson,
a bachelor under twenty years of age, being deeply interested in this
question, of paramount importance at this time, forthwith left his bunk,
and from that time until daylight theology was in the air.
Our battery changed from the Fort to a position one-fourth of a mile to
the left of it, the two sections being placed a hundred yards apart,
where we remained until March.
It seems remarkable even now, after a lapse of over forty years, that
under such conditions and without the slightest reasonable hope of
ultimate success we could have passed six months, including a severe
winter, not only moderately comfortable, but ofttimes with real
pleasure. Huts and hovels of as varied architecture as the scarcity of
material at our disposal could be shaped into, rose above or descended
below the ground. The best shelters were built of pine logs six or eight
inches in diameter, split in half, with the bark-side out. From a swamp
a quarter of a mile in the rear, in which the trees had been previously
felled for military operations, we carried our fuel. Several hundred
negroes had been impressed, in neighboring counties within Confederate
lines, to work on the adjacent fortifications, which, by their industry,
soon became very strong. In our immediate front, manning the Federal
works, were negro troops whose voices could be distinctly heard in darky
songs and speech, and their camp-fires were in full view.
It was at this time that General Early was distinguishing himself in the
Shenandoah Valley with repeated defeats in battle, the first news of
which reached us in a peculiar way; that is, when the news reached
Grant's lines a shotted salute in celebration was fired at us, thus
"killing two birds with one stone." These volleys of shot and shell
produced consternation among the negroes working on our fortifications.
Panic-stricken, they would break for the rear, casting aside picks,
shovels, or anything that retarded speed; and to get them and their
scattered tools gathered up after such a stampede required several days.
I was requested, by a negro who had just experienced one of these
escapades, to write a letter for him to his home people. He dictated as
follows:
* * * * *
"My dear Wife: I take this opportunity of taking you down a few words
and telling you of the terrible bumming we was under yesterday. The
shells fell fast as hail and lightened as from a cloud, and we had a
smart run. Give my love to Mammy and tell her how we is sufferin' for
somethin' to eat."
* * * * *
Then followed some other pieces of news; then love to various kinsmen,
with a message to each of how they were "sufferin' for somethin' to
eat."
The space between the two sections of our battery was occupied by
infantry. I particularly remember the Nineteenth Georgia Regiment, a
game body of men, whose excellent band furnished us fine music. It was
ordered, during the winter, to North Carolina and lost--killed in battle
soon after--its colonel and adjutant, Neil and Turner. A mile in rear of
our lines stood a church, a substantial frame building, which, for want
of better use, was converted into a theater. As in the recent drafting
every department of life had been invaded, a very respectable element
of a histrionic turn was to be found in the ranks. The stage scenery, as
one would imagine, was not gaudy and, of course, did not afford
equipment for high art in the strict sense; but the doleful conditions
of home life now in vogue in the South and the desperate straits for
food and existence in camp afforded a fund of amusement to those of us
who were inclined to pluck sport from hopeless conditions.
One of the performers--named Nash--was a first-rate comedian. As an
interlude he gave a representation of an attempt made by the people to
furnish the army a Christmas dinner. To give an idea of what a failure
such an undertaking would naturally be, when the people themselves were
almost destitute, one thin turkey constituted the share for a regiment
close by us, while our battery did not get so much as a doughnut. Nash,
in taking the thing off, appeared on the stage with a companion to
propound leading questions, and, after answering one query after
another, to explain the meaning of his droll conduct, drew his hand from
the side pocket of his blouse and, with his head thrown back and mouth
wide open, poured a few dry cracker crumbs down his throat. When asked
by the ringman what that act signified, he drawled out, in lugubrious
tones, "Soldier eating Christmas dinner!" The righteous indignation
produced among the few citizens by such sacrilegious use of a church
soon brought our entertainments to a close.
Our time was frequently enlivened by visits to Richmond. By getting a
twenty-four-hour leave we could manage to spend almost forty-eight hours
in the city. On a pass--dated, for instance, January 13--we could leave
camp immediately after reveille and return in time for reveille on the
fifteenth.
That this would be the last winter that Richmond would be the capital of
the Confederacy, or that the Confederacy itself would be in existence,
was a feeling experienced by all, but was too painful a subject for
general discussion. The gaiety of the place under such conditions,
viewed at this remote day, seems astonishing. There the Confederate
Congress and the Virginia Legislature held their sessions; and there
were the numerous employees of State and Nation, and refugees from
various parts of the South, and, besides, it was the great manufacturing
center of that section, employing mechanics and artisans of every
calling. For four years this mixed multitude had listened to the thunder
of cannon almost at their doors, and had seen old men and boys called
out by day and by night to meet some extraordinary emergency, while it
was no uncommon occurrence for hundreds of sick, wounded, and dead men
to be borne through the streets to the overflowing hospitals and
cemeteries. One surprising feature of it was to see how readily all
adapted themselves to such a life.
My first social visit, in company with my messmate, James Gilmer, of
Charlottesville, Virginia, was to call on some lady friends, formerly of
Winchester. We found these ladies starting to an egg-nog at the house of
some friends--the Misses Munford--with instructions to invite their
escorts. This position we gladly accepted, and were soon ushered into
the presence of some of the celebrated beauties of Richmond, and were
entertained as graciously as if we had been officers of high rank. The
climax of this visit was as we were returning to camp the next
afternoon. We overtook Tazwell McCorkle, of Lynchburg, the only member
of our company who could afford the luxury of being married and having
his wife nearby. He had just received a box from home, and invited us to
go with him to his wife's boarding-house and partake of its contents.
While enjoying and expressing our appreciation of the good things,
McCorkle told us of the impression the sight of old-time luxuries had
made on their host, Mr. Turner, a devout old Baptist, who, with uplifted
hands, exclaimed, as it first met his gaze, "Pound-cake, as I pray to be
saved!"
Since the burning of the Virginia Military Institute barracks, by Hunter
at Lexington, the school had been transferred to Richmond and occupied
the almshouse. This, on my visits to the city, I made my headquarters,
and, preparatory to calling on my lady acquaintances, was kindly
supplied with outfits in apparel by my friends among the professors.
Having developed, since entering the service, from a mere youth in size
to a man of two hundred pounds, to fit me out in becoming style was no
simple matter. I recall one occasion when I started out on my
visiting-round, wearing Frank Preston's coat, Henry Wise's trousers, and
Col. John Ross's waistcoat, and was assured by my benefactors that I
looked like a brigadier-general. Sometimes as many as four or six of our
company, having leave of absence at the same time, would rendezvous to
return together in the small hours of the night, through Rocketts, where
"hold-ups" were not uncommon, and recount our various experiences as we
proceeded campward.
Indications of the hopelessness of the Confederacy had, by midwinter,
become very much in evidence, with but little effort at concealment.
Conferences on the subject among the members of companies and regiments
were of almost daily occurrence, in which there was much discussion as
to what course should be pursued when and after the worst came. Many
resolutions were passed in these meetings, avowing the utmost loyalty to
the cause, and the determination to fight to the death. In one regiment
not far from our battery a resolution was offered which did not meet the
approbation of all concerned, and was finally passed in a form qualified
thus, "Resolved, that in case our army is overwhelmed and broken up, we
will bushwhack them; that is, some of us will."
Notwithstanding all this apprehension, scant rations and general
discomfort, the pluck and spirit of the great majority of our men
continued unabated. To give an idea of the insufficiency of the rations
we received at this time, the following incident which I witnessed will
suffice: Immediately after finishing his breakfast, one of our company
invested five dollars in five loaves of bread. After devouring three of
them, his appetite was sufficiently appeased to enable him to negotiate
the exchange of one of the two remaining for enough molasses to sweeten
the other, which he ate at once. These loaves, which were huckstered
along the lines by venders from Richmond, it must be understood, were
not full-size, but a compromise between a loaf and a roll.
Desertions were of almost nightly occurrence, and occasionally a
half-dozen or more of the infantry on the picket line would go over in a
body to the enemy and give themselves up. The Federals, who had material
and facilities for pyrotechnic displays, one night exhibited in glaring
letters of fire:
"While the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest rebel may return."
Toward the latter part of March our battery moved half a mile back of
the line of breastworks. Two or more incidents recall, very distinctly
to my memory, the camp which we there occupied. The colored boy Joe, who
had cooked for my mess when rations were more abundant, was on hand
again to pay his respects and furnish music for our dances. If we had
been tramping on a hard floor never a sound of his weak violin could
have been heard; but on the soft, pine tags we could go through the
mazes of a cotillion, or the lancers, with apparently as much life as if
our couples had been composed of the two sexes. The greatest difficulty
incurred, in having a game of ball, was the procurement of a ball that
would survive even one inning. One fair blow from the bat would
sometimes scatter it into so many fragments that the batter would claim
that there were not enough remains caught by any one fielder to put him
out.