Some little time after this I was the sergeant on the picket line. The
enemy's line of picket was some four hundred yards off, but in fair
view. At midnight I sent William Dyches, a private from Company E, to
relieve the vidette and to remain as vidette till day began to break,
then to come back to our picket line. Just as day had fairly broken and
Dyches had not come in I took a look for him, and was surprised to see
him nearly over to the Yankees. I took a shot at him, but missed him. A
Yankee then hollered over to me, saying, "Say, Johnny, we've got one of
your small potatoes." I replied, "D----d small, but few in a hill."
Dyches had always been a very good soldier--had never shirked duty and
was ever there in a fight. He was from the section of Barnwell district,
now Aiken county, known as Cracker's Neck, near the Upper Three Runs.
Dyches did not reach home until after we all had surrendered and tramped
from Appomattox home. We never went back to the trenches after the
charge on Fort Harrison; remaining, however, below Richmond until the
night of April 1st, when we abandoned our quarters, gave up our
breastworks and took our march for Richmond. We reached Richmond after
midnight and everything was in confusion and uproar--the city was on
fire in more than one place. Soldiers on horse and on foot were going
in every direction--old men and women and children were on the streets
weeping; all that, together with the heavy firing we could hear at
Petersburg, told us that Richmond was gone--Richmond, the goal that
Grant had striven so hard for and for which he had sacrificed so many
lives, would be his at last. In passing through Richmond I lost both
Morrison and Stewart--they escaped me in the confusion.
We went on through Richmond, giving it up to the Yankees who entered
just behind us, and just before noon we reached Petersburg. Here we
found our troops hardly pressed. We were placed in position some four or
five hundred yards below the bridge which spanned the Appomattox River,
with orders to hold the bridge, as it was the only escape our whole army
had, and to lose this we were captured. We held the advancing enemy all
the afternoon until late into the night after our army had crossed. We
were drawn off and crossed over, then, pouring oil on the bridge, set
fire to it. After seeing it in flames we took up our march as rear guard
to Lee's army on that ever-to-be-remembered six days' march, _and every
hour a fight_ to Appomattox.
I don't know how to tell of this march. Things happened so fast and we
were pressed so hard that we were at one place for only a few minutes
and then at another. In a fight here, holding the enemy back long enough
for our troops to cross a stream, or even a narrow place in the road,
then we were gone. I know at Farmville we had a good, stiff fight,
holding the enemy back while our troops crossed the bridge, and at one
time it seemed that they would cut us off. Some of our troops waded the
creek, neck deep. After passing this place just on top of the hill we
found our quartermaster and commissary wagons deserted and afire. Just a
little further on we stopped to blow, and I made up a fire and beat up
some batter, put a flap-jack in the frying pan. Just as it was ready to
turn over we were ordered to make a quick charge. I grabbed my frying
pan, flap-jack and all, and went into the charge. We drove the Yankees
back, and, getting back to my fire, I finished cooking my flap-jack, and
it ate right well.
For six days and six nights we did not stop for sleep nor for rest
longer than ten minutes, but those ten minutes were used for sleep. It
was a fight and a run the whole time. I saw men--and I did the thing
myself--go to sleep walking along. Two days before reaching Appomattox
Frank Green slipped out on the side, to see if he could get something to
eat. He got off some half mile and had succeeded in getting a half
middling of bacon from an old woman. He stuck his bayonet through this
and swung it on his shoulder and started out for us. He soon discovered
that the Yankees' cavalry were between him and us. He therefore had to
outmanoeuvre them some way. Being in any open country this was hard to
do. Two of them soon spied him and went for him; but, after an hour or
more, Frank came in _with his bacon, too_. Along about now I was again
barefoot. I had not had an opportunity to run upon any dead Yankees, as
_we were doing the running these times_. So I commenced looking around
for a pair of shoes somewhere. I soon discovered that Sid Key had a pair
of number sixes hung onto his belt. Sid wore about tens. I bartered him
for a trade. He was willing to sell, but he wanted cash. However, he let
me have them on credit, with the understanding that I would pay him
after the next fight if I got anything from a dead Yankee. We never got
into another fight _where we held the field_, consequently, I never had
a chance at a dead Yankee; and I owe Sid for those shoes yet!
On the morning of April 9th, 1865, we were halted in a field. Firing was
going on down on the front. We had not long stopped when we noticed that
the firing on the front had ceased. We were lying down on each side of
the road. Presently we saw two men galloping up the road. On reaching us
we discovered one to be one of our general's staff officers, the other
to be a Yankee officer. Right then there was excitement. We knew
something was wrong, but what was it? Sleep and exhaustion had gone;
everybody was up, stirring around and wondering. We were held here in
this position and under this strain for over three hours, when the
report got started that _Lee had surrendered_. Very shortly after we
heard this we saw a crowd of horsemen coming up the road. We soon
recognized Gen. Lee among them. Every man got on his feet, and we
commenced yelling for Lee. The old man pulled off his hat, and, with
tears streaming down his cheeks, without a word, he rode through us. Lee
was not the only one shedding tears--old men who had wives, sons,
daughters, even grandchildren at home; middle aged men who had families
at home; younger men who had left a young wife, and young fellows like
myself--all were bowing their heads with tears; but no thought of
censure; no criticism of Gen. Lee, ever entered the minds of any of us.
We knew he had done for the best and we had more confidence in him, as
he rode through us that day, than we ever had before, and we loved him
more. We knew how humiliated he felt, and, knowing this, we were anxious
to make him feel that we recognized that he had done right, and our
confidence and love for him, instead of being shaken, had been
increased. He was certainly now more of an idol than ever before.
That afternoon we were taken into the oak grove and put in the Bull Pen,
as we called it. This was only going into bivouac with a guard around
us, _but not a Yankee guard_. We could not have submitted to that had
that been attempted; the last one would have been knocked out during the
night. But we had our own men for our guards. We were not allowed out of
our lines, nor were any Yankees allowed to come in; but they hung around
and seemed surprised that they had such a hard time in overwhelming such
a crowd of rag-a-muffins, and so few of them.
On being put into the Bull Pen it so happened, and we immediately
discovered, there was in our regimental lines a large barn pretty well
filled with ears of corn. We were soon scrambling for this and men could
be seen going in all directions with an armful of this corn. It looked
exactly like each man was going to feed a horse. It was well for us that
we struck this luck, for we had nothing to eat; and when there is
nothing better, parched corn goes mighty good. We now filled up on our
parched corn and by good dark everybody seemed to be asleep--the first
sleep we had for seven days and nights, since we left Richmond. We awoke
the next morning, and, after taking our breakfast (parched corn again
and water), we felt very much refreshed, after a night of sleep and
rest. We would hang around our lines, seeing anything that might take
place. During the morning Gen. Lee, accompanied by Gen. Meade and staff,
rode around. I suppose Gen. Lee was showing Gen. Meade how few men he
had surrendered him and the condition they were in. On passing by us we
began to cheer and yell. Meade turned to his color bearer, who had his
headquarters' flag rolled up, and said, "Unfurl that flag." This he did,
when an old, ragged, half-starved, worn-out Confederate soldier in our
lines cried out, "D----n you old rag. We are cheering Gen. Lee." This
old fellow, like the balance of us, was no more whipped, penned up here
in the Bull Pen, overpowered by at least ten to one, starved, naked,
broken down, than he was at the Wilderness, Spottsylvania, Cold Harbor
or the nine months in the trenches and below Richmond. We were not
whipped, and we never felt whipped; but felt like men who had done their
duty in every emergency, and now, while we were forced to give up the
struggle, it was only to overwhelming odds and resources. But we were
yet men and men, too, who were entitled to and would get the admiration
of the entire world. We knew we deserved this, and, knowing it, we held
up our heads, not ashamed to look our victors straight in the eye. _And
they, the Yankees_, acted with much consideration, and like good
soldiers, and good Americans can only act, did not show that exultation
they must have felt. While they seemed to feel proud, of course, at the
result, yet we had their sympathy and good will.
This was April 10. We remained in our lines the entire day. To this we
did not object, as we needed the rest, and, besides, we did not care to
move around much. Again, we had a good night's sleep and parched corn
enough to eat. Early on the morning of the 11th it became known that we
were to be taken out and surrender our arms, ammunition and everything
else. We were, however, allowed to retain our side arms and blankets.
The side arms consisted of, with the officer, his sword and pistol; with
the private, his haversack, canteen and little hand axe, the axe that we
wore stuck in our belts and which had been of so much service to us in
building log breastworks at the Wilderness, Spottsylvania, Cold Harbor,
Petersburg and below Richmond. We noticed in the morning, say ten
o'clock, the Yankee columns moving down to Appomattox Court House. At
noon our drums beat for us to fall in. In a short time we were again in
ranks. Lee's army was now moving down the road towards Appomattox Court
House, every man fully armed, cartridge boxes full and the men well
rested. We knew we were being taken to stack and give up those arms
which had been a part of us for four long years; but we did not lag or
skulk. Had Gen. Lee, then and there, ridden out and said, "Boys, there
are the enemy, go for them," there would have been no man to question
it; we would have broken through, no matter the odds. But we marched up
in front of them, where they were formed in line of battle, with our
heads up, showing them that a soldier knows how to die. We were stopped
and made to face them, and then, for the last time, we heard our boy
colonel, Jim Hagood, give the command, "First South Carolina, order
arms, fix bayonets, stack arms, unbuckle accoutrements, hang up
accoutrements." When this was completed we heard again his command,
"First Regiment, attention. Right face, file right, march." _The deed
was done._ Now we were truly prisoners--nothing with which to protect us
from either danger or insult. We were carried back from whence we came,
and we took up our quarters as before. We suffered no insult in any way
from any of our enemies. _No other army in the world would have been so
considerate_ of a foe that it had taken so long, so much privation, so
much sacrifice of human life, to overwhelm. Gen. Grant had acted nobly
towards Gen. Lee. His men acted considerately towards us.
* * * * *
[Illustration: OUR BOY COLONEL.]
JAMES R. HAGOOD,
COLONEL OF (HAGOOD'S) FIRST S. C. REGIMENT OF VOLUNTEER
INFANTRY, C. S. ARMY.
Of him General Lee wrote as follows: "It gives me pleasure to state that
Col. J. R. Hagood, during the whole term of his connection with the Army
of Northern Virginia, was conspicuous for gallantry, efficiency and good
conduct. By his merit constantly exhibited, he rose from a private in
his regiment to its command, and showed by his actions that he was
worthy of the position."
(Signed) R. E. LEE.
Lexington, Va., 25th March, 1868.
J. R. Hagood volunteered as a private in the above named regiment, just
before its departure to Virginia, in the summer of 1862, under the
command of Col. Thomas Glover, who had succeeded Johnson Hagood to the
colonelcy of the regiment upon the latter's promotion to
brigadier-general.
J. R. Hagood was promoted sergeant-major of the regiment August, 1862.
He was promoted adjutant of the regiment November 16th, 1862. He was
promoted captain of Company K January, 1863. He was promoted colonel of
the regiment on 16th of November, 1863. His commission being dated
within ten days of his nineteenth birthday, he was doubtless the
youngest colonel commanding a regiment in the Confederate Army.
This rapid promotion came to him while serving in and forming a part of
"that incomparable infantry which bore upon its bayonets the failing
fortune of the Confederacy for four long and bloody years." He
surrendered at Appomattox, with Lee's Army, having participated in
nineteen battles in which at least 20,000 men were engaged.
* * * * *
That evening Col. Hagood got enough paroles for the men of his regiment,
but did not give them out. The next day, April 12, Col. Hagood, having
decided to try the scheme of keeping us together, started the tramp for
home. Early in the morning the Yankees had sent us over some beef, and
upon dividing this out each man got one-fourth of a pound. This was the
only rations we had issued to us during the time we were in the Bull
Pen; but, in justice to the enemy, I must say that they, too, had not
had anything issued them.
I guess we had traveled so fast and furiously that their wagon could not
keep up. Here we were, six hundred miles away from home, not a cent in
our pockets, and only one-fourth of a pound of raw beef. Can a more
deplorable picture be drawn? Col. Hagood marched us off, keeping us
pretty well together till night coming on we stopped. We had traveled
about twenty miles towards home this day. After stopping for the night
Col. Hagood called on the few officers present to meet him, when he
explained that we had no money nor had we authority to confiscate
something to eat. The men now had nothing and hadn't had for over ten
days. He had thought it best to keep them together as long as possible,
and now he had gotten them some twenty miles away from the Yankee army,
he saw no other alternative but to give each man his parole and turn
him loose to get home the best he could. He was satisfied this was the
best course. All the officers present agreed with him, and that night
each orderly sergeant was given the number of paroles to be filled out,
inserting the man's name. By midnight Orderly Sergeant A. P. Manville
and myself had them all ready for Company E, and early next morning
Sergt. Manville called up the company and gave to each man his parole.
Then, with tears in our eyes, we bade each other good-bye, and took our
course for our desolated homes in old Barnwell District.