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LIFE IN THE CONFEDERATE ARMY
BEING PERSONAL EXPERIENCES OF A PRIVATE SOLDIER IN THE CONFEDERATE ARMY
BY ARTHUR P. FORD
AND SOME EXPERIENCES AND SKETCHES OF SOUTHERN LIFE
BY MARION JOHNSTONE FORD
NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
1905
COPYRIGHT, 1905
BY ARTHUR P. FORD
[Illustration: Arthur Peronneau Ford]
CONTENTS.
LIFE IN THE CONFEDERATE ARMY 7
KENT--A WAR-TIME NEGRO 73
ROSE BLANKETS 88
SOME LETTERS WRITTEN DURING THE LAST MONTHS OF THE WAR 100
TAY 129
LIFE IN THE CONFEDERATE ARMY
BEING PERSONAL EXPERIENCES OF A PRIVATE SOLDIER IN THE CONFEDERATE ARMY
The following account of my experiences as a private soldier in the
Confederate Army during the great war of 1861-'65 records only the
ordinary career of an ordinary Confederate soldier. It does not treat of
campaigns, army maneuvers, or plans of battles, but only of the daily
life of a common soldier, and of such things as fell under his limited
observation.
Early in April, 1861, immediately after the battle of Fort Sumter, I
joined the Palmetto Guards, Capt. George B. Cuthbert, of the Seventeenth
Regiment South Carolina Militia. Very soon after, the company divided,
and one half under Captain Cuthbert left Charleston, and joined the
Second South Carolina Volunteers in Virginia. The other half, to which I
belonged, under Capt. George L. Buist, remained in Charleston. Early in
the fall Captain Buist's company was ordered to Coosawhatchie, and given
charge of four howitzers; and thenceforth for three years, until
December, 1864, it served as field artillery. I did not go with my
company, as at that time I was a clerk in the Charleston post-office,
and really exempt from all service. On April 2, 1862, however, then
being about eighteen years of age, I resigned my clerkship, and joining
the company at Coosawhatchie, with the rest of the men enlisted in the
Confederate service "for three years or the war."
About May 1st the company was ordered to Battery Island at the mouth of
the Stono River, where with another company, the "Gist Guards," Capt.
Chichester, we were put under the command of Major C. K. Huger, and
placed in charge of four 24-pounder smooth-bore guns in the battery
commanding the river, our own four howitzers being parked in the rear.
Cole's Island, next below, and at the immediate entrance of the river,
was garrisoned by Lucas' battalion of Regulars, and the Twenty-fourth
Regiment South Carolina Volunteers, Col. C. H. Stevens. An examination
of a map of this locality will show that Cole's Island was the key to
Charleston; and this question has given rise to considerable acrimonious
discussion. But whatever the merits of the case may have been, the facts
are, that under the strange fear of the Federal gunboats that obtained
on the South Carolina coast at that period, it was believed that our
positions on Cole's and Battery Islands could not be held against an
attack from the gunboats, which then were off the mouth of the river;
and the islands were evacuated. On the 18th the Federals sent a couple
of small boats into the mouth of the river to reconnoiter, but they were
soon driven back by our pickets. On the next day, and day after, all
the guns were removed from both islands to Fort Pemberton, higher up the
Stono River--a very strong earth fort that had been built in preparation
for this move. A day or two after, while our men were still on Battery
Island, but Cole's Island having been deserted, several Federal gunboats
entered the river, shelling the woods and empty batteries as they
advanced. On their approach we set fire to the barracks and then
withdrew across the causeway to James Island. We had to make haste
across this causeway, because it was within easy range of the enemy, who
soon began to rake it with shells.
This was my first experience with shell fire, and I soon learned that at
long range, to men in the field, if the shells did not explode it was
more alarming than dangerous. But being quite fresh I thought it
unbecoming to appear concerned, and although at first, after crossing
the causeway, I had stood wisely behind a friendly oak tree for
protection, after the first shell or two I stepped aside and stood in
the open, foolishly thinking that this was more soldierly. I had not yet
learned that a soldier's common sense should prompt him to make use of
what protection there may be at hand and to avoid exposing himself
unnecessarily. But only when duty calls, to throw precaution aside and
face whatever there is. While we were standing on the James Island side
of the causeway a time-fuse shell fell near us, and one of our men, a
new recruit, ran up to it, and stood over it with the exclamation, "How
the thing does hiss!" Happily the fuse failed and the shell did not
explode. When I saw the fortunate termination of the affair I could not
resist calling out, "Surely the Lord protects drunken men and fools."
Our company fell back from here to a plantation about a mile inland,
where we made our camp. I was a very enthusiastic, energetic youngster,
and in pitching our large Sibley tent worked with such energy that I
attracted the attention of one of our men, Mr. H. Gourdin Young, who
jokingly said, "Ford, you are a splendid worker. If you were a negro, I
would buy you." He was very much my senior.
After remaining here for about two months, our men doing some picket
duty, we were transferred to Fort Pemberton, a very strong earthwork of
16 guns, on the Stono River, and garrisoned by Lucas' battalion of
Regulars, in which my brother was a lieutenant. Here we remained for
about three months.
Frequently the Federal gunboats would ascend the river, and there would
be interchanges of shots between them and the fort. On one of these
occasions an amusing incident occurred. Lieutenant Webb, of our company,
had just got a new negro man servant, who was inexperienced in warfare.
One afternoon, as a few shells were being thrown at the fort from the
gunboats, he was very much scared, saying, "Dem people trow dem t'ings
about yere so careless, dey won't mind until dey hu't somebody." Just
then a shell passed over the fort, and exploding in the rear, a piece
cut off a leg of Lieutenant Webb's horse. "Dere now; w'at I tell you!"
exclaimed Sam. "Dey done kill Mass Ben's horse."
During the early period of the war a great many of the private soldiers
in the Confederate Army had their own negro servants in the field with
them, who waited on their masters, cleaned their horses, cooked their
meals, etc. Attached to our company there were probably twenty-five such
servants. This system continued during the first year or two of the war,
on the Carolina coast, but later on, as the service got harder and
rations became scarcer, these negro servants were gradually sent back
home, and the men did their own work, cooking, etc. As a rule, these
negroes liked the life exceedingly. The work exacted of them was
necessarily very light. They were never under fire, unless they chose to
go there of their own accord, which some of them did, keeping close to
their masters. And they spent much of their time foraging around the
neighboring country. Although often on the picket lines, night as well
as day, with their masters, I never heard of an instance where one of
these army servants deserted to the enemy.
At this period of the war the Confederate Government allowed each
soldier a certain sum yearly for his uniform, and each company decided
for itself what its own uniform should be. In consequence, "uniform" was
really an inappropriate term to apply to the dress of various
organizations. At first our company was uniformed in gray woolen frock
coats, and trousers of the same material, with blue caps; next we had
gray cotton coats and trousers with gray cloth hats; then very dark
brown coats with blue trousers furnished by the government, and gray
felt hats; and finally the gray round jacket, also furnished by the
government, which assumed to provide also the hats, shoes, and
underclothing. The shoes, when we could get them, were heavy English
brogans, very hard on our feet, but durable. It was in the summer of
1862 that we received our first allowance for uniforms, and our
quartermaster applied to a tailor in Charleston to furnish them, but
there was considerable delay in getting them, and the tailor wrote that
goods were then scarce on account of the moonlight nights, but that in
about a fortnight, when the moon waned, they would be in greater supply,
and the uniforms could be furnished at $2 more per man than the
government allowed. So in due time we each supplemented the government's
allowance and got new uniforms of very inferior, half cotton gray stuff,
which served us for the rest of the year. Afterwards the government
tried to furnish the men gratuitously with the best it could, and we did
the best we could with what we got.
In July our command was removed to Charleston, under orders to go to
Virginia. These orders were countermanded in a few days owing to
aggressive movements of the Federals on the South Carolina coast. The
remainder of the summer and the fall were spent in Charleston encamped
for most of the time at the Washington race course, doing duty on the
lines of breastworks thrown up across the neck just above Magnolia
Cemetery. These breastworks were built to keep any enemy out of the
city, but the nearest enemy on land at that period was on Folley Island;
in Tennessee to the west; and Virginia to the North. And when Sherman
did come within 50 miles of Charleston nearly three years later our
troops were too much occupied in getting away to think of these
breastworks. The battalion then consisted of three companies, each armed
with four 8-inch howitzers, and all under the command of Maj. Charles
Alston, Jr., Capt. Buist having been promoted to major, and assigned to
duty near Savannah.
While encamped on the race course I witnessed the military execution of
a deserter. The man belonged to one of the regiments doing duty about
Charleston, and had been taken in the act of trying to desert to the
enemy; tried by court martial and condemned to death. On the day fixed
for the execution, some of the troops in Charleston were marched up to
the race course, and so formed as to make three sides of a square.
Immediately after followed a wagon, with the coffin, and seated on it,
the man with his hands tied, and under guard; the whole preceded by a
band playing the dead march; and followed by the detail of twelve men
selected by lot to shoot him. Half the rifles were loaded with balls
and half with blank cartridges, but none of the detail knew how his own
was loaded. As the procession halted the coffin was placed on the ground
and the deserter had his hands untied, and knelt in front of it facing
the twelve men who were to do the shooting, and were drawn up about
thirty feet in front of him. At the word of command "aim," the man,
seemingly in desperation, jerked open his shirt and bared his breast to
the bullets. Instantly at the command "fire" the detail fired, and the
man fell over dead on his coffin. It was the most terrible sight I ever
saw, far more dreadful than anything I ever witnessed in battle, and it
seemed a sad thing that a really brave man should be so sacrificed; but
such is one of the necessities of war, and it is necessary to deter
others from playing the role of traitor.
At this time the Federal gunboats were very annoying in Stono River,
coming as high up as possible daily, and shelling our pickets, and it
was determined to make a diversion. Therefore, in January, 1863, our
battery with Capt. Smith's and other troops were sent over to John's
Island, and ambushed at Legare's point place to cooperate with two
companies of Lucas' battalion and some other troops on James Island. The
design was to capture the _Isaac P. Smith_. This vessel was an iron
screw steamer of 453 tons, and carried eight 8-inch navy guns, or
sixty-four pounders, and a 7-inch thirty-pounder Parrott gun. She was
commanded at the time by Capt. F. S. Conover; and her crew consisted of
11 officers and 105 men.
The affair was completely successful. The gunboat in her daily ascent
was taken by surprise, and after a short fight at only 75 or 100 yards
distance, as she ran trying to escape, had her steam drum torn by a
shell, and had to surrender. She had twenty-three men killed and
wounded, while we lost one man killed. My howitzer was at a sharp bend
in the river, and as the gunboat ran past, her stern was directly about
100 yards in front of the gun I served. It put one 8-inch schrapnel
shell into her stern port, and I learned afterwards that the shell
knocked a gun off its trunnions and killed or wounded eight men. A prize
crew was put on board immediately and the vessel towed by a tug up the
river, and later on to the city. While the prisoners were being landed,
the U. S. S. _Commodore McDonough_ steamed up the river and opened fire
on us, but a few well-directed shots from our batteries soon made her
desist and drop back down the river. At nightfall, our command returned
to Charleston.
Our 8-inch howitzers were soon after exchanged for four twelve-pounder
Napoleon guns, and the battery ordered back to James Island. Here in
March we took part in a land affair near Grimball's place on the Stono.
Our battery was encamped about a mile from the river, and at daybreak
one morning we were aroused and hurried down the road toward Grimball's
plantation. Just before we were about to emerge from the woods into a
field, the musketry firing going on rapidly on our left front, and a few
shells from the gunboats falling into the woods, we were halted, and
told that just in front was a field reaching to the river, and as soon
as we passed out of the woods the order "battery by right into line"
would be given. Well, we started at a rapid trot. I was driver of the
lead horses of gun No. 2, and as we passed out of the woods, in
obedience to the command I swung to the right, gun No. 3 swung to my
right, and No. 4 to right of No. 3, while No. 1 kept straight on down
the road, and we all went forward now at a run into battery.
We galloped down to the edge of the marsh along the river, and swinging
into battery our guns opened on the U. S. S. _Pawnee_ out in the river,
the other two gunboats being farther down, and around a bend of the
river. We were engaged for about twenty minutes, when the _Pawnee_
dropped down the river, and the musketry fire on our left gradually
ceased.
It seems that the Federals had advanced on the island with a force of
about 2,000 men, supported by three gunboats. They had been met, and
after sharp fighting, had been driven back by Col. Gaillard's
Twenty-fifth Regiment South Carolina Volunteers, the Marion
Artillery,--a light battery,--and a Georgia regiment, while our battery
engaged the _Pawnee_. The Confederate loss was 27 men killed and
wounded, and the Federal, 45.
The artillery was under the command of Lieut. Col. Delaware Kemper, who
sat on his horse by our battery during the scrimmage. After the affair
was over he remarked to our captain, "Captain Webb, you have a splendid
set of young fellows there, but they need practice. They could not hit
John's Island if they had it for a target." As to our marksmanship, he
was mistaken, however, for we did put several shells into the _Pawnee_,
and she had to go to Port Royal for repairs.
In this affair, being a driver, my position while the guns were in
action was standing by my horses about 100 feet in the rear of my gun;
and it was trying to have to stand there quietly, inactive, and take the
shells and few rifle balls that passed by. It would have been much more
agreeable to be actively engaged about the gun.
Only a few moments after we had got into action, our little company dog,
a half-breed fox-terrier, "Boykee," who always stuck to the guns, and
seemed to enjoy the excitement, was struck in the neck by a piece of
shell, directly in front of where I was standing, and ran screaming to
the rear. This wound was not a serious one, and he soon recovered from
it. He was afterwards ignominiously killed by a snake in Florida.
In July, 1863, were developed the disastrous results of the evacuation
of Cole's Island in May the year before. As soon as we left that island
and Battery Island the Federals occupied them, and used them as bases
for operations against Charleston. From there they occupied Folley
Island, a densely wooded island where their operations could easily be
concealed. They advanced to the north end of this island, to Light House
Inlet, and under the concealment of the shrubbery built formidable
batteries, which at daybreak one morning were unmasked, and under a
heavy fire from their guns, an infantry assault in boats was made upon
our small force on the southern end of Morris' Island. After a severe
fight the Federals got a firm foothold upon this island, which for the
next two months or so was the scene of some of the most sanguinary
fighting of the war.
Immediately after this surprise by the Federals a detachment of our
company was placed in charge of Battery Haskell, on James Island,
directly opposite Morris' Island. The celebrated siege of Battery Wagner
then began, and we used to watch the fighting at about three-quarters of
a mile distance. The terrible bombardment and assault of July 18 was one
of the sights of the war. At daylight the bombardment of the fort began,
and continued without a minute's cessation all day. Occasionally as many
as four shells were observed in the air at the same time. The fort
itself was enveloped in a dense black pall of smoke from bursting
shells, and at times was completely hidden. As the afternoon wore on the
bombardment increased in intensity, and it seemed as if the very
foundations of our part of the world were being torn to pieces. The
garrison was kept in the bomb-proof, and not a shot was fired in reply.
At dusk the bombardment suddenly ceased, and almost immediately the guns
of the Confederates in Fort Sumter, trained on the beach in front of
Wagner, opened. Almost simultaneously we saw a mass of blue spring up
apparently from the earth, and advance on Wagner, and then the rattle of
musketry. As the dusk deepened into darkness the rapid flashes of
musketry looked at that distance like vast masses of fireflies, over a
morass. We saw that it was an infantry assault, and a desperate
hand-to-hand fight it was. But the result was very disastrous to the
Federals, who were repulsed with a loss of upwards of 2,000 men.
In August was begun the bombardment of Charleston, which was continued
steadily for a year and a half. On the night of the 21st, at 10.45
o'clock, General Beauregard received an unsigned note, brought to our
pickets, purporting to be from General Gilmore, demanding the evacuation
and surrender of Morris' Island and Fort Sumter under penalty of the
bombardment of the city within four hours after the note had been sent
by him. Two hours and three-quarters after this note had reached General
Beauregard's hands, at 1.30 o'clock on the morning of the 22d, the
Federal battery in the marsh on the edge of the creek separating Morris
from James Island, opened fire, and threw a number of shells into the
city. At about 9 o'clock on the morning of the 22d, seven and a quarter
hours after the bombardment had begun, General Gilmore sent a properly
signed note making the same demands. This note was immediately answered
by General Beauregard with an emphatic refusal, and some severe remarks
as to his firing upon a city full of women and children before he had
given them reasonable time to escape. As may be imagined, the terror of
the women and children in Charleston that night was extreme when it was
realized that the city was being bombarded. The distance in a direct
line from the Swamp Angel Battery, as it was called, to the city was
about 5 miles, and it had not been thought that any gun could shoot that
far. At first only percussion shells were used, but later on, in 1864,
time-fuse shells were also used, and were much more dangerous, as they
nearly always exploded. Battery Haskell, at which our company was
stationed, was nearly in line between the Swamp Angel and the city, and
constantly we watched the shells, city-bound, passing over our heads
high in the air. At night, when fuse shells were used, they looked like
slow meteors.
Frequently, when the tide was high, some of the Federal gunboats came
into the inlet in front of Battery Haskell, and about half a mile off,
and threw a number of shells into it. But no harm was done, as we could
easily see the shells coming, and dodged them. We were very seldom
allowed to reply. After the shelling was over, and the gunboat had
hauled off, it was my habit to go about and pick up the shells,
generally about sixty-pounders, and store them under my cot in my tent
until I could find time to unscrew the fuse plugs and pour out all of
the powder. As soon as I had gathered a wagon load I would carry them to
Charleston and sell them at the arsenal. This was such a period of
violence and bloodshed that the fearful risk of explosion did not
concern me, and what I am equally surprised at now, after the lapse of
many years, is that my officers allowed such a thing to be done in the
battery, or in fact at all.
Here I witnessed an occurrence that, according to the law of chances,
would not happen once in a thousand times. In the battery was a dry
well, about six or eight feet deep, and one afternoon, while our friend
the gunboat was throwing the usual shells at us, and we were dodging
them, I remarked to a comrade that "that old well would be a good place
to get into." The remark had scarcely been made before a shell dropped
into that well as accurately as possible. It was simply one of those
remarkable occurrences that happen in real life, but which writers dare
not put in fiction.
The picket line on James Island in this vicinity, together with Battery
Haskell, was then under the command of Maj. Edward Manigault, an officer
of very exceptional ability. During this summer our shortness of
rations began, and continued rather to intensify until the end. For one
period of about two months it consisted of only one small loaf of
baker's bread and a gill of sorghum syrup daily. For that time we had
not a particle of either fresh or salt meat. If we had not been where we
could obtain plenty of fish, we would have suffered seriously. The
quartermaster's department was as badly crippled as the commissary's and
most of us could get no new shoes, and several of our men were actually
bare-footed in consequence; but it being summer, and on a sandy coast,
there was not as much suffering as might have been otherwise. Scurvy,
fever, and other ailments were very general and several deaths resulted.
The battery was on a strip of land separated from the main land of James
Island by a marsh and small creek, over which was a causeway and bridge.
This causeway was watched from the Federal gunboats, and every time even
one man would go across it he would be saluted with a shell or two. On
one occasion I was ordered to drive several sick men to the city in an
ambulance, and as we struck the causeway a gunboat sent the customary
shells at us. The sick men were nervous, and one of the men called out,
"For God's sake, Ford, put down the curtains!"
Toward the fall of 1863, after the evacuation of Morris Island by the
Confederate troops, our company was withdrawn, and returned to the old
camping ground at Heyward's place near Wappoo Cut.
As it seemed that we would remain here all winter, as we really did, I
obtained permission to build a log cabin for myself and my mess. One
day, as I was building the chimney, I saw Maj. Edward Manigault and his
brother, Gen. Arthur Manigault, who was spending the day with him,
walking toward me to inspect the guns parked near by. As they approached
I jumped down off the scaffolding and saluted them. They returned the
salute, and then the Major said: "We have been admiring your chimney,
Mr. Ford. It is as well built as if a mason had done the work." The old
man, whenever on the few occasions he spoke to me, strange to say,
always addressed me, a private soldier, as "Mr." Ford. I never could
account for it, unless it was that he knew all about me and my people.
He had been a West Pointer, but had resigned from the U. S. Army a good
many years before. Thus he was a strict disciplinarian, and on that
account at that time not popular with the men; but I always liked him,
and approved of his discipline. Later on, as the service became more
exacting, and really active, the men became devoted to him, as they
realized his ability as an officer.
On December 23 our company, then having four 24-pounder Parrott guns,
started off for John's Island, where an attempt was to be made to
capture a small body of Federals that were near Legareville, and also to
sink or capture a Federal gunboat that was off that place. Our company
was to have been supported by a Virginia regiment. On Christmas day at
daylight we opened fire from our masked battery upon the two gunboats,
for there were two on hand instead of one, but the infantry remained in
the background, and failed to attack the Federals near Legareville as
designed, and we had to bear the whole brunt of the fight. It was a
sharp affair, and we soon had to get out of it as best we could, with
the loss of several men and a half dozen horses.
In this affair I had a very narrow escape, and another man lost his life
in my stead. I had been lead driver on gun No. 2, and when we started on
this expedition I was transferred to cannoneer's duty, and young Heyward
Ancrum given my horses. Well, in the fight a shell from the U. S. S.
_Marblehead_ passed entirely through the bodies of both of my horses,
and took off Ancrum's leg at the knee. He fell among the struggling,
dying horses, but was pulled out, and died soon after. He was certainly
killed in my place.
It was about this time that I saw that celebrated torpedo submarine
boat, the _Hundley_, the first submarine boat ever built. As I was
standing on the bank of the Stono River, I saw the boat passing along
the river, where her builder, H. L. Hundley, had brought her for
practice. I watched her as she disappeared around a bend of the river,
and little thought of the fearful tragedy that was immediately to ensue.
She made an experimental dive, stuck her nose in the mud, and drowned
her entire crew. Her career was such an eventful one that I record what
I recollect of it.
She was built in Mobile by Hundley, and brought on to Charleston in
1863. She was of iron, about 20 feet long, 4 feet wide, and 5 feet
deep--in fact, not far from round, as I have seen it stated; and
equipped with two fins, by which she could be raised or lowered in the
water. The intention of her builder was that she should dive under an
enemy's vessel, with a torpedo in tow, which would be dragged against
the vessel, and exploded while the _Hundley_, or "_Fish_," as some
called her, rose on the other side. She was worked by a hand propeller,
and equipped with water tanks, which could be filled or emptied at
pleasure, and thus regulate her sinking or rising. The first experiment
with her was made in Mobile Bay, and she went down all right with her
crew of seven men, but did not come up, and every man died, asphyxiated,
as no provision had been made for storing a supply of air.
As soon as she was raised, she was brought to Charleston, and a few days
after her acceptance by General Beauregard, Lieutenant Payne, of the
Confederate Navy, volunteered with a crew of six men to man her and
attack the Federal fleet off Charleston. While he had her at Fort
Johnson, on James Island, and was making preparations for the attack,
one night as she was lying at the wharf the swell of a passing steamer
filled her, and she went to the bottom, carrying with her and drowning
the six men. Lieutenant Payne happened to be near an open manhole at the
moment, and thus he alone escaped. Notwithstanding the evidently fatal
characteristics of this boat, as soon as she was raised another crew of
six men volunteered under Payne and took charge of her. But only a week
afterwards an exactly similar accident happened while she was alongside
the wharf at Fort Sumter, and only Payne and two of his men escaped.
H. L. Hundley, her builder in Mobile, now believed that the crews did
not understand how to manage the "_Fish_," and came on to Charleston to
see if he could not show how it should be done. A Lieutenant Dixon, of
Alabama, had made several successful experiments with the boat in Mobile
Bay, and he also came on, and was put in charge, with a volunteer crew,
and made several successful dives in the harbor. But one day, the day on
which I saw the boat, Hundley himself took it into Stono River to
practice her crew. She went down all right, but did not come up, and
when she was searched for, found and raised to the surface, all of her
crew were dead, asphyxiated as others had been.
After the boat was brought up to Charleston, several successful
experiments were made with her, until she attempted to dive under the
Confederate receiving ship _Indian Chief_, when she got entangled with
an anchor chain and went to the bottom, and remained there until she
was raised with every one of her crew dead, as were their predecessors.
No sooner had she been raised than a number of men begged to be allowed
to give her another trial, and Lieutenant Dixon was given permission to
use her in an attack on the U. S. S. _Housatonic_, a new gunboat that
lay off Beach Inlet on the bar, on the condition that she should not be
used as a submarine vessel, but only on the surface with a spar torpedo.
On February 17, 1864, Lieutenant Dixon, with a crew of six men, made
their way with the boat through the creeks behind Sullivan's Island to
the inlet. The night was not very dark, and the _Housatonic_ easily
could be perceived lying at anchor, unmindful of danger. The "_Fish_"
went direct for her victim, and her torpedo striking the side tore a
tremendous hole in the _Housatonic_, which sank to the bottom in about
four minutes. But as the water was not very deep her masts remained
above water, and all of the crew, except four or five saved themselves
by climbing and clinging to them. But the "_Fish_" was not seen again.
From some unknown cause she again sank, and all her crew perished.
Several years after the war, when the government was clearing the wrecks
and obstructions out of Charleston harbor, the divers visited the scene
of this attack, and on the sandy bottom of the sea found the hulk of the
_Housatonic_, and alongside of her the shell of the "_Fish_." Within the
latter were the skeletons of her devoted crew.
This submarine torpedo boat must not be confused with the surface ones,
called "Davids," that were first built and used at Charleston in the
fall of 1863. These "Davids" were cigar-shaped crafts about 30 feet
long, and propelled by miniature steam engines; and they each carried a
torpedo at the end of a spar in the bow. There were several of them at
Charleston and points along the coast.
In March, 1864, I had the only violent illness I had during my service,
until at the end, a year later, and being given a thirty-day furlough
went up to Sumter, where I had some near relatives. Here I stayed a
couple of weeks, and then went over to Aiken, where my parents and
sisters resided. Although the distance from Sumter to Aiken was only
about 135 miles, the railway trains took seventeen hours to make the
distance. It is hard to realize now the delays and discomforts of travel
in the South in 1864. With worn-out tracks and roadbeds, dilapidated
engines and cars, it is remarkable that the railway trains were able to
run at all. On this occasion, which was typical of travel then, I left
Sumter at 10 o'clock p. m., and just before reaching Kingsville the
engine ran off the track from a worn-out rail. Two hours or more were
spent in prying it back. Then shortly after the train stopped in a piece
of woodland, and the fireman and train hands took their axes and spent
an hour cutting wood and putting it on the tender. So it was full
daylight when we reached Kingsville. From there all went well until
after passing Branchville the engine broke one of its connecting rods,
and we had to wait until another engine could be got from Branchville.
Some miles farther up the road the train again stopped, and the hands
went into the woods and cut wood for the engine. Finally, at about four
o'clock in the afternoon I arrived at Aiken. Here I remained for a
fortnight, and then joined my command, which had just been ordered to
Florida.
Early in the spring the Federals made an advance into Florida from
Jacksonville, and a number of troops were sent from South Carolina to
oppose them. Among them was our battery of artillery. We reached the
section of the State threatened the day after the battle of Olustee, or
Ocean Pond, and were then ordered back to Madison, where we encamped,
and during our stay there of a couple of weeks were most hospitably
treated by the ladies of the town.
This battle of Olustee was a very severe fight, and a bloody one, in
which the Federals under General Seymour were routed by the Confederates
under Gen. Pat. Finnigan and Gen. A. H. Colquitt. In this battle the
Federal loss was about 1,900 men and the Confederate about 1,000. The
obstinacy of the struggle may be appreciated when it is observed that,
out of the total of 11,000 men engaged, the casualties amounted to
2,900, nearly 27 per cent. As I have said, our battery reached the scene
after the battle, so we made no stay near Olustee, but retired to
Madison. The wounded were all cared for at the wayside hospitals, and
the dead white men of both sides buried; but the dead negroes were left
where they fell. There had been several regiments of negroes in the
Federal force, who as usual had been put into the front lines, and thus
received the full effect of the Confederate fire. The field was dotted
everywhere with dead negroes, who with the dead horses here and there
soon created an intolerable stench, perceptible for half a mile or more.
The hogs which roamed at large over the country were soon attracted to
the spot and tore many of the bodies to pieces, feeding upon them. This
field of death, enlivened by numbers of hogs grunting and squealing over
their hideous meal, was one of the most repulsive sights I ever saw.
About the beginning of March our battery was ordered to Baldwin, about 9
miles from Jacksonville. Here we remained for nearly a month, and
strange to say had a very uncomfortable time as far as food was
concerned. The surrounding country was barren, swampy, and very thinly
settled, so there was very little private foraging to be done and we had
to suffer from the very scant rations served out by the commissary.
This department was in a very disorganized condition, probably because
of the sudden massing of troops at an unexpected point; but the fact was
that our men seldom got enough of even the coarsest food. Our battery
horses were supplied with corn and forage, and on several occasions
after going twenty-four hours without any food I made use of some
opportunity to steal the horses' corn, and parched that for a meal.
The bacon served out occasionally was of the most emphatic character,
and very animated, but when fried and eaten with eyes shut, and nostrils
closed, did no harm. Once in a while some of the men would go into the
swamp and still-hunt wild hogs, and we would get some fresh pork. This
hunting was against orders, and the officers tried their best to stop
it, and occasionally some man would be caught at it and punished, but
the men were really too much in need of food to remain quiet when game
could be had. These hogs had once had recognized owners, but since that
section of country had been deserted, had run wild, and lived in the
swamp. It was by no means easy to shoot them, as they were very wary,
and however quiet the hunter might remain behind his brush blind would
often detect his presence by their sense of smell, and could not be
decoyed within range.
My company was soon ordered back to South Carolina, and our route lay
over the Albany and Gulf Railroad, now the Atlantic Coast Line, from
Quitman to Savannah. This road, like all others in the South, was in a
terribly dilapidated condition--rails and trestles decayed, and
rolling-stock worn out. The engine that drew our train, containing only
our battery, was unable to do the work, and several times when we
reached the easy grades on that generally very level road, the men would
be compelled to get off and assist the engine by pushing the train up
the incline. When the train was got up to the top of the grade it would
go down the other side by its own impetus, and on level stretches the
engine got along fairly well. We made the distance of 170 miles in about
sixteen hours, a little over ten miles an hour--fairly good speed in the
South in 1864.
Our battery was stopped at Green Pond, on the Savannah and Charleston
Railroad, and we spent the summer of 1864 doing picket duty at Combahee
Point, and along the Ashepoo River.
At Combahee Point we were stationed on Mr. Andrew Burnett's plantation.
The camp was located on the edge of the abandoned rice field, while the
picket post was in front on some breastworks on the river's edge. The
old rice fields were more or less overflowed, the banks having been
broken for two years or more, and in them were numerous alligators, some
of considerable size. At night the noises made by these amphibians, and
the raccoons in the adjacent marsh, would have been interesting to a
naturalist, but were annoying to us. But the most serious disturbers of
our peace were the mosquitoes. These were of such size and venom and in
such numbers as to cause real suffering, and necessitate the use of
unusual schemes to protect ourselves against their attacks.
Accounts of these mosquitoes must seem incredible to any one who has
never spent a midsummer's night in the rice fields; and very few white
people have done this since the war. During the day the comparatively
few that were about could be driven off by tobacco smoke and other
means, but when night fell, and the myriads came up from the fields and
marsh, then the situation became serious. When we were on sentry duty,
walking post, many of us wore thick woolen gloves to protect our hands;
and over our heads and necks frames made of thin hoops covered with
mosquito netting. And when we wanted to retire to our small "A" tents,
we had to make smudge fires in them first, and then crawl in on our
hands and knees, and keep our faces near the ground to breathe, until
finally we got asleep. And, moreover, we dared not let our faces or
hands touch the sides of the tent, for immediately the mighty insects
would thrust their probosces through the canvas and get us. I feel
dubious about the advisability of recording such a statement, but as I
am stating only facts as I experienced them, this must go on record.
In this rice field section our men suffered greatly from fever, and
there were several deaths. I was the only man in the company of 70 who
persisted in taking three grains of quinine daily, and one other of our
men and I were the only two who did not have a touch of fever.
While on duty here, early one morning four negro men came to our picket
bringing two Federal officers, and turned them over to us. Upon inquiry
it seemed that these two officers, one of them a Captain Strong of the
Regular Army, and the other a Volunteer lieutenant, had been captured in
Virginia, and were on their way to prison in Georgia, but had escaped
from the cars on the Savannah and Charleston Railroad, and had tried to
make their way to the Federal fleet, but were simply starved out, until
they had to appeal to the negroes for help, and they promptly brought
them in to us. I was detailed as one of the men to guard and carry them
to Green Pond, about 15 miles off, and deliver them to the authorities.
On the way we stopped for a moment at Mr. Benjamin Rhett's plantation,
who, as soon as he learned what was up came to the wagon and with the
consent of the sergeant in command, invited the officers into his house.
There, as soon as they had made some ablutions, he carried them in to
breakfast, and entertained them for an hour; at the same time sending
breakfast and genuine coffee out to us. Captain Strong spoke to me very
pleasantly, and said that he was a graduate of West Point; and learning
that I was from Charleston, inquired about several people there whom I
knew, among others of Col. Sam. Ferguson, who he said had been a
classmate of his at the Academy, and who I told him was at that time
with the army in the West. I recollect that he was interested at hearing
of him. He seemed also quite struck with the youthfulness of our men,
and remarked on it.
Late in the fall our battery was removed to a point on the Charleston
and Savannah Railroad, south of Green Pond, and put in charge of a
battery there, as the Federals had advanced up from Port Royal, with the
evident intention of attempting to seize the railroad. It seems that
this really was the aim of the movement, conducted under the command of
Gen. Guy V. Henry. And this movement was suggested by General Sherman,
who, when he determined upon his march through Georgia, stated to the
government at Washington that he expected to reach Savannah about the
end of December, and suggested that the railway between Charleston and
Savannah be destroyed before he got there. The Federals made several
advances, but never could get nearer than about half a mile of the
railroad, and in their efforts to do so were defeated and driven back in
two or three affairs, notably in a serious fight at Tulafinny, in which
the cadets of the South Carolina Military Academy, mere boys, were
engaged.
In these infantry affairs we had no part, as they occurred at some
distance from our position. Our company at the time was serving as heavy
artillerists, and, as I have said, had charge of a battery commanding
the railroad. The Federals had, however, established a battery of field
pieces about 700 yards in our front, and there were frequent artillery
duels, but without serious injury, certainly to our side. There was a
short section of the railway track in an open piece of country, of which
the enemy got the range, and every time a train passed in the daytime
they would open on it with their guns. When the engineers approached
this section they put on all the speed attainable, which was not very
much at best, with the dilapidated engines they then had, and there was
considerable interesting excitement in being on a flat car and running
the gauntlet in this way. I do not think, however, that a train was ever
hit.
About December the field pieces were taken away from our company and
Capt. Porcher Smith's, and both were turned into infantry, and armed
with old-fashioned Belgian rifles, probably the most antiquated and
worthless guns ever put into a modern soldier's hands. But they were all
our government had. These rifles could not send a ball beyond 200 yards,
and at much shorter range their aim was entirely unreliable. This our
men felt hard to stand, as they knew that at this period the Federal
soldiers were being generally armed with breech-loading Springfield
rifles, weapons which thirty years later were reckoned very formidable.
We soon after were ordered back to James Island, where with Captain
Smith's company we were again under the command of Maj. Edward
Manigault. We were at once put on very arduous picket duty along the
lines on the southwestern part of the island. The weather at this time I
well recollect was unusually cold and wet, and with an insufficiency of
food and clothing, our sufferings were severe. Men had got very scarce
then, and the same relay had to be kept on picket week after week
without relief, and the men would often have to stand guard on the
outposts eight or ten hours on a stretch.
On one occasion while another man and I were on sentry duty on the lines
in the rifle-pits, at the break of day we saw the two Federal sentries
on the other side of the intervening marsh desert their posts, and
unarmed walk quickly toward us. When they got within about ten paces we
halted them, and called our officer. As soon as he came up we turned
them over to him. I always had a loathing for a deserter, and said to
the men, "If I had my way I would have you given thirty-nine lashes each
and sent back under flag of truce to your command, so you could be shot
as you deserve." One of them twiggled his fingers on his nose and
replied, "Ah, but you hav'n't got no say in the matter."
While on duty on these outpost lines, the Federals frequently shelled us
from their gunboats in Stono River. We did not mind the Parrott shells,
but the shells from the Cohorn mortars on a mortar schooner were very
trying. They would fall, apparently from the sky, and there was no
dodging them. But fortunately none of them fell directly in the
rifle-pits, but all exploded harmlessly in the field. All old soldiers
know that mortar shells take a very mean advantage of a man.
One of the outposts on these lines which was manned only at night was
out in the marsh, and I had it one night, and it was about the most
disagreeable night I ever had on picket. I was placed on the post at
dark, with orders to keep in the marsh, at the edge of the tide as it
went down, and to come in at the first daylight. I was all the time up
to my insteps in mud, by myself, with the rain falling all night. I
stood out in that marsh from dark until daylight, in the drenching rain,
for about ten hours. Like most of the men, I had no oilskin, or any
protection against the weather, and of course was thoroughly drenched
early in the night, and the steady rain all night kept me saturated. The
best I could do was to try to keep my ammunition and gun-lock dry. It
was certainly the worst night I ever spent.
On February 10, 1865, we had our first serious infantry fight, as
infantry. We were doing picket duty at this time on the lines near
Grimball's causeway, with our right extending to Stono River. At about
daylight that morning the Federals began to shell our lines from four
gunboats and a mortar schooner, whose masts we could see over the trees;
and soon after we could see a large force of their infantry assembling
on Legare's plantation on the other side of the flat and marsh in front
of our lines. Our entire force along this part of the lines consisted
of 52 men of our company and 40 men of the Second South Carolina
Artillery and about 20 cavalry, together with 7 officers--all told, 119
men. Just before the Federal infantry advanced, a section of artillery
took position at about 600 yards in front of us, and shelled our line,
but did no damage. The Federal infantry engaged, as I learned a few
months afterwards from one of their officers, were the Fifty-fourth and
One Hundred and Forty-fourth New York, white; and the Thirty-second,
Thirty-third, and Fifty-fifth U. S. negro troops, altogether about 1,500
men, and one section of artillery. We were assaulted directly in front,
but held our ground until the enemy were within 30 feet of our line; in
fact, some of their men were actually into our trenches, and having
hand-to-hand fights with our men. So close had they got that I had
ceased firing, and had just fixed my bayonet, and braced myself for a
hand-to-hand fight, when Major Manigault, who was standing only a few
paces to my right in rear of the line, gave the order to retreat. To
this moment not a man had flinched, but at the order to retreat we broke
for the rear, a few of the men reloading, turning, and firing back as
they retreated. We halted at a ditch about 300 yards in the rear, where
we found the battalion of cadets of the South Carolina Military Academy,
and a company of the Second Regiment South Carolina Artillery,
altogether about 185 men. We who had come out of the affair, feeling
strong with this support, were anxious to return and try to drive back
the Federals, but we had no such orders. And probably it was well we did
not do so; for about 700 of the enemy were white men, and, as I
afterwards learned, more than half of them Irish; and for about 267 men
to tackle in open fight nearly three times their number, of that class
of men, was too serious an undertaking to be attempted. Of course as to
the 800 negroes the odds would not have been counted.