Among the most intimate friends of my evening time, I have found
infinite comfort and cheer in two, who for twenty years have been a
part of my life. These two, the Hon. James M. Greer and Mr. James F.
Hunter, having made me almost a part of their family lives, I wrote out
for their boys, Allen, Autry and Rowan Greer, and Douglass Hunter, this
account of how I lost my leg, and print it here without apology to my
readers.
* * * * *
Soon after Sherman's army was so signally repulsed on the Kennesaw
line, he again commenced his flank movement, which forced our army to
fall back.
On the 4th of July, 1864, one of the hottest days of the season, our
army arrived at Vining Station, just below Marietta, Ga., where it was
formed in line of battle, with orders for each brigade to intrench and
throw up breastworks.
I was busily engaged all the morning in superintending the work, which
was about completed between 12 and 1 o'clock, when, with my staff, I
retired to a large spreading oak tree, about 150 or 200 yards in the
rear of my line of works, to rest and to eat my scanty rations. No
fighting was going on at this time except an artillery duel between a
Federal battery some distance off and a Confederate battery on my line.
After I had eaten up all the rations I had, I concluded I would take
a smoke. Matches in those days were very scarce and hard to get; so
I always carried with me a small sunglass to light my pipe with when
the sun was shining. After tilling my pipe I noticed that the sun was
shining through a small opening in the foliage of the tree under which
I was sitting, and I remarked to Colonel Dyer, my Inspector-General,
that I could light my pipe through the little opening. He replied that
he would bet me a drink of pine-top whisky that I could not. I accepted
the bet (as I was then not as punctilious about betting as I am now),
and just as I was in the act of drawing a focus on my tobacco, a shell
from the enemy's battery came whizzing through the air over my line and
exploded just as it struck my foot and the ground, tearing off my foot
and making a hole almost large enough to bury me in.
My staff were lying around under the shade of the tree, but none of
them were struck by the shell or any of its fragments. Col. Dyer, who
was standing over me at the time, had nearly all his clothing torn off,
not by the shell or its fragments, but by the gravel that was thrown up
against him. He received seventeen flesh wounds, none of which proved
very serious. As soon as the shell exploded he involuntarily started to
run to get behind a tree. A few days before this Col. Dyer and myself,
while walking in the rear of our line on Kennesaw Mountain, noticed
that a soldier with all the canteens of his company swung around him,
was going after water for his company, when a schrapnel shell came
over, exploded and riddled him with balls; yet he walked, or rather
ran, some little distance before falling, and then fell dead. Col. Dyer
told me that he had this man in his mind's eye while running, and he
expected every moment to fall dead.
The shock from the explosion of the shell was very severe, yet the
tearing away of my leg was accompanied by neither pain nor the loss of
much blood. In addition to the loss of my foot I received another wound
on my other leg which was rather remarkable. I had a cut below the knee
about four inches long and down to the bone, as smooth as if it had
been cut with a sharp knife, yet neither my pants nor underclothing
were torn. It was so smooth a cut that when pressed together it healed
by first intention. None of us were able to conjecture what made this
cut. Before I would allow my removal I made my staff find my sunglass
and my pipe. The rim of my sunglass was broken.
As soon as it was known that I was wounded, the surgeons of my brigade
and division came to my assistance, and bound up my wounds as best
they could, and gave me some morphine and whisky. I was then put in an
ambulance and started to the field hospital. In going to the hospital
I passed by Gen. Cheatham's headquarters, who, hearing that I was
wounded, came out to sympathize with me, and suggested that as I was
looking very pale he thought that some stimulant would do me good, and
gave me a stiff drink. I then began to feel pretty good and proceeded
on my way to the hospital. I had not gone very far when I passed Gen.
Hardee's headquarters. He had heard of my misfortune and came out to
see me. He also said I was looking very pale and that I ought to have
some stimulant, and gave me a big drink. I continued to feel better,
and again started toward the hospital, and in a short time passed Gen.
Joseph E. Johnston's headquarters. He came out to see me and also said
that I was looking very pale, and that some stimulant would do me good.
He happened to have some very fine apple brandy, and gave me a big
drink, and down it went. From this time on I knew nothing until I awoke
on the platform at Atlanta at sunrise next morning.
The amputation of my leg at the point selected was an unfortunate one
for me. My brigade surgeon, Dr. R. W. Mitchell, was absent at the time
of my arrival at the field hospital, and the point of selection for the
amputation was determined upon by a consultation of surgeons before he
returned. If my leg had been cut off higher up it would have relieved
me of the many days of suffering I have since experienced.
From Atlanta I was carried on a freight train in a box car, in the
hottest of weather, to Macon, Ga. Dr. Mitchell accompanied me, thinking
I would die before I reached the place. My sufferings were intense, but
I survived, and was taken to Mrs. Josie, the wife of a quartermaster of
my division of the army, who cared for and treated me as kindly as if I
had been her own child.
Thus I lost my leg, and I have never seen it since.