from the penitentiary. The murderers were among the number, and Villa
appointed the doctor as a commissioned medical officer on his staff.
W. W. filled his position honorably and well for ten years, when ill
health compelled him to retire. In accepting his resignation, the
State Department gave him a very complimentary letter. He returned to
Austin, where his wife still lives, and, after a lingering illness,
died there on February 10, 1913.
W. W. lived in El Paso two score of years, and in 1901 published a
book entitled "Forty Years in El Paso."
AFTERTHOUGHT:--Last page in W. W.'s book.
"ENEMIES AND PHILOSOPHY
"In the summer of 1900 my brother, General Mills, and a sister
paid Mrs. Mills and myself a visit at the United States
Consulate at Chihuahua. One evening he, being in a reflective
mood, said, 'Will, you and I have had many difficulties, and
quarrels and fights with our personal enemies, and it is very
gratifying to know, as I am growing old, that these are all over
with me. My enemies are all reconciled to me, and I wish you
could say as much.'
"I replied: 'I do not know that my enemies are all reconciled
to me, but they are all _dead_, and that is better, or at least
_safer_.' And it is the literal truth. All my bitterest foes
have been taken hence, most of them by violence, and I neither
rejoice at nor regret their taking off. I do not claim that I
was always right and they always wrong, for I tried to return
blow for blow, but it is certain that they often resorted to
means which I would, under no circumstances, employ. Alas, most
of my friends are gone also. Why I have been spared through it
all is a mystery which I do not attempt to explain.
_ADIOS._"
SECOND PERIOD
FOUR YEARS OF CIVIL WAR
Before any Federal troops arrived in Washington, Cassius M. Clay, of
Kentucky, organized the "Clay Guards," composed of 150 Southern Union
men who, like myself, were in Washington awaiting appointments. I
joined this organization, became a sergeant, and was discharged as
such. The government furnished us an armory, arms and ammunition, in
Willard's Hall, where the New Willard Hotel now stands. Detachments
slept at the Navy Yard, where attacks were expected from Alexandria,
Virginia, and in the White House, as it was feared the President might
be assassinated.
My commission was dated May 14, 1861, but confusion in the War
Department prevented early delivery of all appointments. I had little
money and, although I lived in a cheap room in a mechanics' boarding
house in the poorer part of the city, and economized in every way, my
clothing was shabby and I was indebted to the landlord. Every morning
I went to the War Department, hoping for my appointment, but without
success.
One morning, in the Assistant Adjutant General's office, I saw my
appointment lying with hundreds of others on a big table. I pointed it
out to Captain Garesche, and asked him for it. He said the Secretary
had ordered all appointments to be sent to the appointee's post office
address, and added that he had been severely reprimanded because he
had delivered to one man an appointment intended for another of the
same name. As I knew I would never receive the appointment if it was
mailed to El Paso, I was discouraged. But when I told Public Printer
Sol Meredith, who was from Indiana and knew my father, the situation,
he explained the circumstances to Mr. Cameron, and on June 22 I
received my appointment as first lieutenant of the 18th Infantry, one
of the nine new regiments of twenty-four companies each then being
formed. I was directed to report to its Colonel, Henry B. Carrington,
at headquarters, Columbus, Ohio.
Still without money, I went to the paymaster, hoping to receive the
money necessary to pay traveling expenses and get a uniform. The
paymaster refused to pay me until the end of the month and, finally,
in my dilemma, I went to a friend and borrowed enough to carry me to
Columbus and buy a uniform.
Before leaving, Judge John S. Watts, delegate from New Mexico, and
I recommended my brother W. W. to the Secretary of the Treasury for
collector of customs at El Paso, and to the Adjutant General my
brother Emmett for the appointment to West Point from New Mexico.
I reported to Colonel Carrington in Columbus on June 25th. Although
adjutant general of Ohio under Governor Chase, he knew less about army
matters than I. But he assumed a great deal, and told me he was going
to have the best regiment in the army, and that no man who drank could
remain in it.
A mile and a half from the city was a camp of instruction, "Camp
Thomas." Most officers reporting were instructed under Captain
Kellogg, a former artillery officer; but I was detailed on recruiting
service at Toledo, Ohio. On July 19th I opened an office there,
where I became one of the most successful recruiting officers in
the regiment. On August 12th, telegraphic instructions came from
Washington to muster in Colonel Gibson's 49th regiment of Ohio
Volunteers at Tiffin, Ohio. For perhaps a month, I kept both offices
open, traveling back and forth.
I used the fair grounds at Tiffin for the organizing of the regiment.
Generally the man who brought the men to camp was made captain,
although orders required that men sufficient to form a company be
locked in a room to elect their own officers. When elected, I swore in
the officers.
When four companies were sworn in they elected a major; eight
companies elected a lieutenant colonel; and ten were authorized to
elect a colonel, adjutant and quartermaster.
The regiment was formed, equipped with arms, uniforms, tents and other
paraphernalia, and aboard trains which started from the fairgrounds in
less than thirty days. Twenty thousand relatives and friends watched
the regiment depart and heard Colonel Gibson address the multitude. A
Democrat, and former treasurer of his State, he was well known as a
most eloquent speaker. His audience was in tears before the signal to
start, but cheered with excitement and enthusiasm when he threw his
hat high in the air over the crowd. His was one of the first regiments
to go in the Western army under General Grant, and did able service,
Gibson becoming a general.
Of the new regular regiments the 18th Infantry was one of the first
organized. It had three battalions of eight companies each under
Majors Townsend, Stokes and Caldwell.
President Lincoln had directed the issuance of General Order No. 101,
as follows:
"War Department, Adjutant General's Office,
Washington, November 20, 1861.
General Orders No. 101.
"The intention of the Government, in reserving the original
vacancies of Second Lieutenants for the most deserving among
the non-commissioned officers of the new regular regiments,
was twofold: to secure the services of brave, intelligent and
energetic officers, by appointing only those who had fully
proved themselves to be such, after a fair competition with
all who chose to enter the lists against them, and to give to
the young men of the country--those especially who were poor,
unknown, and without any social or political influence--an equal
opportunity with the most favored. In General Orders No. 16 of
May 4, 1861, this intention was publicly announced. It is now
reaffirmed, and commanding officers of the new regiments will
see that it is carried out in good faith.
By order,
L. THOMAS, _Adjutant-General_."
This enabled Colonel Carrington, an able recruiting officer, to enlist
as privates many college students and other young men of high standing
and education. Probably fifty of these were eventually commissioned.
With sixteen companies equipped, Lieutenant Colonel Oliver L. Shepherd
reported to Colonel Carrington for duty in the field. Because of my
success in securing enlistments, I was kept on recruiting service,
but on February 23, 1862, I was ordered to proceed to Louisville,
Kentucky, with thirty men, to join the regiment then en route from
West Virginia to the Army of the Cumberland at Nashville.
I was too late to join Shepherd's sixteen companies, and was assigned
to a river vessel filled with various troops, largely volunteers,
including Captain Mack of the regular infantry, temporarily commanding
a regular battery. A drunken man reported to me he had been left
by Shepherd's command, and asked to join mine. He reported to my
sergeant, D'Isay, and asked for food, but boasted that all he wanted
was something to eat and that he was going to leave. When he started
down the gang plank, one of the men and I caught him, had a fight in
which I hurt my hand so I had to wear it in a sling, tore practically
all the clothing off the deserter, but we brought him aboard. Soon
afterward, the first sergeant of Mack's artillery told me that Captain
Mack wished to see me. I reported to Captain Mack, who asked me if I
knew who was in command of the vessel. I said I did not, and he said,
"No more do I, but, as I am a captain in the regular army and you are
a lieutenant, suppose we consider that I am in command. I saw your
encounter with that drunken soldier and, as we are probably going to
have a great deal of disorder in this mixed command on this trip to
Nashville, I think you are a proper person to act as officer of the
day for today. There is no time for a regular guard mount, but you
assume the duties and, as you are having some considerable trouble
with that drunken man, my sergeant will report to you and take care of
the disorderly." The sergeant tied his hands, and trussed his knees
with a stick, gagged him with a bayonet and sat him in a state room,
satisfied he would stop swearing and abusing the officers! The man
soon begged for relief, but was tried by court martial and sentenced
to be shot for striking an officer, which sentence was later commuted
by General Thomas.
Subsequently I carried Captain Mack off the battle-field of Stone
River, desperately wounded. I saw him next at the War Department in
Washington in 1870, assistant to the Secretary of War, and he arranged
my transfer from infantry to cavalry.
I reported to Colonel Fry, adjutant to Colonel Buell, at Louisville,
and was directed to take my thirty men to Major Stokes, commanding the
3d battalion of three companies, 18th Infantry, near Nashville. Major
Stokes made me adjutant. He was a military novice, too old to learn,
and soon failed of confirmation by the Senate.
The three companies were temporarily consolidated with the other two
battalions and Colonel Shepherd made me adjutant of the regiment in
the field.
When "Parson" William G. Bronlow, the courageous and persistent leader
of the Union men of East Tennessee, arrived at the St. Cloud Hotel,
under flag of truce from Knoxville, escorted by an officer of the
Confederate army, many of our officers wished to pay their respects.
Twenty officers requested me, as adjutant, to introduce them.
Admitted to his hotel, I greeted him and introduced my companions. He
introduced the young Confederate officer with the remark, "This young
man is my nephew, a man with good intentions, but sadly misguided."
Each spoke a few words with the Parson, a nervous, sympathetic and
passionate man. Just before we left he exclaimed: "Gentlemen, you are
right. Fight 'em, fight 'em, fight 'em till hell freezes over, and
then fight 'em on the ice!" A strange speech for a parson, perhaps,
but illustrating the intense bitterness the war instilled in all.
Buell's command was ordered to proceed by forced marches to Shiloh
to reinforce Grant, about to give battle to the Confederate General
Johnson, and on April 6, 1862, my regiment, the 18th U. S. Infantry
(two battalions, nineteen companies), as a part of the Third Brigade,
First Division, Army of the Ohio, marched all day in the rain toward
the sound of the cannon at the battle then raging at Shiloh Church.
We arrived at Savannah late at night, eighteen miles above the
battle-ground. The rain made the roads on the left bank of the river
almost impassable, and it was decided to send us on by steamer. It
was, however, nine or ten o'clock in the morning before a boat could
be furnished, so we did not arrive at Pittsburg Landing until about
two p.m. of that day, when the battle was almost over.
As we approached the landing, Colonel Shepherd ordered Lieutenant
D. W. Benham, the quartermaster, and me, to proceed inland to find
someone authorized to place us in proper position. A few hundred yards
away we found most of the generals in consultation. General Buell
designated our position and we returned to deliver General Buell's
instructions.
Here the regiment saw its first horrors of war. Many wounded were
carried to the numerous hospital boats tied up at the landing. In
a cave under the Bluffs Benham and I saw a large number of ghastly
corpses, stained with blood, laid on the leaves. Suddenly Benham
exclaimed, "My God, Mills, there's a man who's not dead! See, his face
is red, and I can see his chest heave. What a cruel thing to turn him
out for dead!"
Feeling his pulse, Benham exclaimed, "This man is alive!" raised his
head to help him, when he smelled the fumes of whiskey. Evidently the
man had drunk during the battle, been overcome, and, seeing what he
supposed were fellow soldiers asleep, had concluded to turn in.
It is needless to say that both Benham and I lost our interest in the
"poor fellow" and left him to sleep off his drunk.
In the meantime, Shepherd placed his men in the front line, but we saw
little fighting, as the Confederates abandoned the field after Johnson
was killed. Later we confronted them at Corinth, and Beauregard, who
had succeeded Johnson, retired without giving battle in the direction
of Nashville, which the Federals had practically abandoned. It then
became a race between Buell and Beauregard as to who should first
assemble an army at Nashville.
Iuka, with many public buildings, was selected as the hospital base
for the wounded and sick. The 18th Infantry, as the largest regiment
of regulars, was ordered to guard the hospital.
Shepherd selected a camp site in a dense forest, which added to our
comfort in the heat of May. It was here I became known as the best
shot in the regiment. One day, when we were all trying to rest and
sleep, somebody called out, "See that squirrel!" pointing to where
the little animal was eating buds in the top of an oak tree. He was
perhaps one hundred and fifty feet from me, but I was satisfied I
could kill him. Many soldiers and officers looking on, I raised my
pistol, fired, the squirrel fell to the ground, shot through the head;
a better shot than I had intended. This, together with the fact that
I was from Texas, gave me a better reputation as a crack shot than I
deserved.
We remained in camp several weeks, but as soon as most of the invalids
recovered, we were ordered to join the Army of the Cumberland.
En route, we came one day near a little town in Tennessee. As usual,
the soldiers were given to pillage, and here they raided a Masonic
lodge, which enraged Shepherd, who was a Mason. One soldier brought a
letter, written by a doctor, advising the neighbors to poison wells
and kill the Yankee invaders. Shepherd ordered me to arrest this
doctor and bring him to camp. We readily found his house, and, calling
him out, found he had a wooden leg. He admitted writing the letter.
Colonel Shepherd ordered him before a sentinel and made him march, in
the extreme hot weather, during the sentinel's tour. Shepherd reported
the case to General Thomas, but the man was liberated without trial.
Colonel, afterwards General Bob McCook, was in command of our brigade,
consisting of the 2d Minnesota, the 9th Ohio, almost exclusively
German (McCook's regiment), and our own. McCook was a most excellent
officer and, although seriously ill, insisted on retaining command,
traveling in an ambulance, and caring for his brigade. On August
4, 1862, he rode forward, as was his custom, with a small guard, to
select camps for each of the regiments. Near Decherd, Tennessee, a
guerrilla band of thirty or forty men, commanded by Frank B. Gurley,
ordered McCook to surrender. Upon his refusal, they shot him in the
stomach, and he died in great agony that night. The guerrillas carried
off two of his staff officers. He had a father and three brothers
killed in battle during the war.
The 9th Ohio became infuriated and burned all the houses in the
vicinity and killed many citizens. Gurley, the leader of the guerrilla
band, was afterwards arrested, identified by the staff officers who
had escaped, tried by court martial, and hanged near Nashville.
After McCook's death, the regiment joined the army under Buell at
Nashville, which the Confederates failed to reach before it was too
strong to capture. Then began the race between Buell and Bragg,
in command of the Confederates, from Nashville to Louisville. I
am not writing a history of the war, so I shall say nothing of
this extraordinary march which ended with our reaching Louisville
twenty-four hours ahead of the enemy, with the exception of a little
incident at Franklin, Kentucky.
My regiment was rear guard to this great army, taking care that the
sick and exhausted should not fall into the hands of the enemy.
Colonel Shepherd was instructed to impress transportation sufficient
to care for all helpless men. I was ordered, with Quartermaster
Benham, to seize such transportation as was necessary. The Confederate
cavalry were harassing us flank and rear and, on arriving at Franklin,
we were so hard pressed we feared we would lose a great many of our
sick.
A friend reported an excellent ambulance and four mules on the
outskirts of the town in possession of the wife of a Confederate.
Going with two soldiers to seize it, we found the house doors locked,
the blinds down, and got no response to our knocks. We directed the
two men to search the barn and, if they found the conveyance, to wheel
it out and attach the mules. They found the vehicle, wheeled it into
the road, and returned to harness the mules, only to find that someone
had cut the traces. While we were deliberating how to get the vehicle
away with the ruined harness, the blinds flew open, an infuriated
woman thrust her head through the open window and angrily exclaimed,
"You miserable Yankees; get out of this! Don't you hear those guns?"
We did hear them, for our rear guard was engaged with the Confederate
cavalry. Seeing the hopelessness of the situation, I called to an old
colored man chopping wood in the yard, "Boy, throw me your axe!" He
tossed the axe over the fence; I took it and smashed the spokes in the
rear wheels, and Benham smashed those in front. We then bid good-day
to the lady, who was as angry as Petruchio's Kate, and the last we saw
of her she was still upbraiding us.
General Buell, although a loyal and efficient commander, was not
popular with the volunteer army. Although generally chivalrous, it was
disposed to interpret orders to its own liking, and became enraged at
Buell's severity. He ordered that the commanding officers should not
needlessly destroy private property; that he had noticed a disposition
to burn valuable cedar fence rails unnecessarily, and that officers
would see that only a sufficient number of rails were used to cook
the food. A division commander issued an order in derision directing
that thereafter none but the top rail should be taken by his troops.
The troops understood this insubordination, and it soon developed that
there were no more top rails.
This discontent with Buell made its way to Washington. When we arrived
in Louisville, General Thomas sent for Colonel Shepherd, showing
him a telegram from Washington announcing that General Buell was
relieved and that he, Thomas, should take command of the Army of the
Cumberland. Thomas said, "Now, Colonel Shepherd, I don't see how I can
in honor obey that order unless it is forced upon me, because General
Buell has consulted me in every movement he has made since we have
been serving together, and I approve of everything he has done. In
your opinion, should I not, before taking command, communicate these
facts to the government?" Shepherd, loyal to Buell, agreed. Thomas
telegraphed to Washington, and Buell was retained for some time. Later
he was relieved by Rosecrans.
Bragg, failing to get possession of Louisville, and fearing to proceed
further north, fell back to Perryville, Kentucky, where the important
battle of Perryville took place on October 8th. General Bragg then
abandoned further aggressive movements and began his retirement toward
Nashville, Buell following him closely and arriving at Nashville in
time to hold that city.
When the Civil War broke out, army regulations provided brass
mountings for the soldier, retaining many useless and cumbersome
impediments for the soldier's person because at one time they were
useful. When fighting was done with arrows and spears and short
infantry swords, men wore coats of mail, to ward off the strokes
of the enemy. When firearms appeared these became ineffective and
were gradually but laboriously abandoned. The soldier's "scale"
represented the last remnant of the coat of mail, and theoretically
was useful in warding off strokes of the saber on the shoulder. While
many intelligent men knew its uselessness, no one had the courage to
advocate its abandonment.
In November, '63, while my regiment was guarding Belotte's Ford,
on the Cumberland River, eight miles from Gallatin, Tennessee, we
received midnight orders to proceed within two hours to an expected
battle-field. We were to take four days' rations, to be carried by
one four-mule team. My company, the largest in the regiment, found it
impossible to pack all the necessary articles in one wagon. Coming
upon a chest weighing over three hundred pounds, I asked the sergeant
what it contained. He replied, "The scales, sir." I told him to throw
it into the latrine, which he did, and the box is there now.
[Illustration: SCALES AND ARMOR.
1. HELMET.
2. GORGET.
3. CUIRASS.
4. EPAULIÈRES.
5. BRASSARDS.
6. GAUNTLET.
7. TASSETS.
8. CUISHES.
9. GENOUILLÈRES.
10. GREAVES.
]
Finding no battle-field, we turned out for Sunday morning inspection
in a beautiful camp in the woods. All the other companies appeared
with their shining "scales" and other brass ornaments. My scaleless
company presented anything but the so-called military appearance.
Approaching my company, the Major, a martinet, remarked, "Captain,
where are your scales?" I replied, "I abandoned them for want of
transportation." He said, "You are out of uniform, and I shall have
to report you. Have you made requisition for more?" I replied that
I had not and did not intend to; that they were a very detrimental
encumbrance. Although he ordered me peremptorily to do so, I never
did. Whenever my company was inspected by others I was similarly
reprimanded, and I dare say the files of the War Department are today
full of reports condemning me as a captain for being out of uniform.
Later, out on the plains, where we were less harassed by bureaucracy,
one captain after another began to shed, and finally, after ten
years' defiance of regulations and orders by courageous and sensible
captains, the army shed its scales as a snake sheds its skin. No order
was ever issued by any authority for their abandonment. It is the only
way in which the army can be redeemed from some of its follies, such
as continue to this day in wearing the present swords and sabers, as
useless for all military purposes as the scales.
When General W. S. Rosecrans was assigned to the command of the Army
of the Cumberland, relieving General Buell, my regiment was detached
from Steedman's Brigade of the 35th Ohio, 2d Minnesota and 4th
Michigan, and all our officers bade the officers of Steedman's Brigade
an affectionate goodbye. On Christmas day we joined the 15th, 16th and
19th regular infantry, with Battery H, 5th Artillery, on the height
near Nashville, where we were brigaded with them as the "Regular
Brigade, Army of the Cumberland," Col. O. L. Shepherd, commanding.