Winter Quarters at Bull Run.
Sometime in October the brigade was withdrawn to the vicinity of
Centerville for better facilities in the way of provisions, water,
etc., and to be nearer the wooded section of the country. The water
had been scarce at Flint Hill, a long distance from camp, and of
inferior quality. The health of the troops was considerably impaired,
a great many having been sent to the hospitals, or to their homes. The
sickness was attributed, in a large measure, to the quality of green
corn and fresh meat, salt being an object now with the Confederacy,
and was issued in limited quantities. We fared sumptuously while at
our camp near Centerville. Our wagon train going weekly up towards
Warrenton and the mountains, returning laden with flour, meat, and the
finest beef we had ever received. The teamsters acting as hucksters,
brought in a lot of delicacies to sell on their own account--chickens,
turkeys, and vegetables, and not unfrequently a keg of "Mountain Dew"
would be packed in the wagon with the army supplies, and sold by the
wagoners at an enormous profit. There being no revenue officers or
"dispensary constables" in those days, whiskey could be handled with
impunity, and not a little found its way into camp. The citizens, too,
had an eye single to their own welfare, and would bring in loads of
all kinds of country produce. Sometimes a wagon would drive into camp
loaded with dressed chickens and turkeys to the number of one hundred
or more. A large old-fashioned wagon-sheet would be spread over the
bottom and side of the wagon body, and filled with as much as two
horses could pull. I never knew until then how far a man's prejudice
could overcome him. Our mess had concluded to treat itself to a turkey
dinner on Christmas. Our boss of the mess was instructed to purchase a
turkey of the next wagon that came in. Sure enough, the day came and a
fine fat turkey bought, already dressed, and boiling away in the camp
kettle, while all hands stood around and drank in the delightful aroma
from turkey and condiments that so temptingly escaped from under the
kettle lid. When all was ready, the feast spread, and the cook was in
the act of sinking his fork into the breast of the rich brown turkey,
some one said in the greatest astonishment: "Well, George Stuck, I'll
be d----d if you haven't bought a goose instead of a turkey, look at
its short legs." There was a go, our money gone, appetites whetted,
and for a goose! Well up to that time and even now I cannot eat goose.
A dispute arose, some said it was a goose, others held out with equal
persistency that it was a turkey, and I not having discretion enough
to judge by the color of the flesh, and so overcome by my prejudice,
did not taste it, and a madder man was not often found. To this day I
have never been convinced whether it was a turkey or a goose, but am
rather inclined to give the benefit of the doubt to the goose.
We did not get into our regular winter quarters until after the first
of January, 1862. These were established on the south Banks of Bull
Run, near Blackburn's Ford, the place of the first battle of the name,
where Longstreet fought on the 18th of July. Large details were sent
out from camp every day to build foundations for these quarters. This
was done by cutting pine poles or logs the right length of our
tents, build up three or four feet, and over this pen the tent to be
stretched. They were generally about ten feet square, but a man could
only stand erect in the middle. The cracks between the logs were
clinked with mud, a chimney built out of poles split in half and
notched up in the ends of the log parts of the tent. An inside wall
was made of plank or small round poles, with space between the two
walls of five or six inches. This was filled with soft earth or mud,
packed tightly, then a blazing fire started, the inner wall burned
out, and the dirt baked hard and solid as a brick. In this way we
had very good chimneys and comfortable quarters. From six to eight
occupied one tent, and generally all the inmates messed together.
Forks were driven into the ground, on which were placed strong and
substantial cross-pieces, then round pipe poles, about the size of
a man's arm, laid over all and thickly strewn with pine needles, on
which the blankets are laid. There you have the winter quarters for
the Southern soldiers the first year of the war.
But some of the men did not like so primitive an order of architecture
and built huts entirely out of logs, and displayed as much originality
as you would find in more pretentious cities. These were covered over
with poles, on which straw and sand were tightly packed, enough so
as to make them water-tight. Some would give names to their quarters,
marked in large letters above their doors in charcoal, taxing their
minds to give ingenious and unique names, such as "Uncle Tom's Cabin,"
"The House that Jack Built," "Park Row," "Devil's Inn," etc. To
while away the long nights and cold days, the men had recourse to the
soldier's game, "cards." Few ever played for the money that was in it,
but more for an amusement and pastime. While almost all played cards,
there were very few who could be considered gamblers, or who would
take their comrades' money, if they even won it. There would be
stakes played for, it is true, on the "credit system" generally, to be
evened-up on pay-day. But when that time came around such good feeling
existed that "poker debts," as they were called, were seldom ever
thought of, and the game would continue with its varying successes
without ever a thought of liquidation. You might often see a good old
Methodist or a strict Presbyterian earnestly engaged in a "five cent
antie" game, but never take his friend's money, even if honestly won.
Something had to be done to pass away the time, and card-playing was
considered an innocent amusement.
The long inactivity made men naturally think and dream of home. The
soldiers had left home quite suddenly, and in many cases with little
preparation, but the continual talk of "peace in the spring," and the
daily vaporing of the press about England or France recognizing the
South's belligerency--and the opening of her ports--buoyed up the
spirits of the soldiers, and fanned the flame of hope. A great many
of the old army officers of the United States, hailing from the South,
had resigned their commissions on the Secession of the States, and
tendered their services to the Confederacy. Of course it mattered not
what was their former rank, or what service, if any they had seen,
all expected places as generals. President Davis being a West Pointer
himself, had great partiality for graduates of that institution.
It was his weakness, this favoritism for West Pointers; and the
persistency with which he appointed them above and over the generals
of the volunteers, gave dissatisfaction. These appointments caused
such resentment and dissatisfaction that some of our very best
generals resigned their commissions, refusing to serve under men of no
experience and doubtful qualifications. Longstreet, Van Dorn, McLaws,
G.W. Smith, and a host of others, who had been captains and majors in
the United States Army, were here or in Richmond waiting for some high
grade, without first winning their spurs upon the field. McLaws, a
Major in the regular army, was made a Major General, and Longstreet
had been appointed over General Bonham, the latter having seen varied
service in Mexico, commanding a regiment of regulars, doing staff
duty, and Military Governor of one of the provinces after the war.
At such injustice as this, gave General Bonham reason to resign his
command and return to South Carolina, where he soon afterwards was
elected to Congress, and later elected Governor of the State. This
left the command to Colonel Kershaw as senior Colonel, but he was
soon thereafter made Brigadier General. While the troops felt safe
and confident under Kershaw, they parted with General Bonham with
unfeigned reluctance and regret. Although none blamed him for the
steps taken, for all felt keenly the injustice done, still they wished
him to remain and lead them to victory, and share the glory they felt
sure was in store for all connected with the old First Brigade.
In future we will call the brigade by the name of Kershaw, the name by
which it was mostly known, and under whose leadership the troops
did such deeds of prowess, endured so many hardships, fought so many
battles, and gained so many victories, as to shed a halo around the
heads of all who marched with him and fought under the banner of
Joseph B. Kershaw. Here I will give a brief biography of General
Kershaw.
* * * * *
JOSEPH BREVARD KERSHAW
Was born January 5th, 1822, at Camden, S.C. He was a son of John
Kershaw and Harriet DuBose, his wife. Both of the families of Kershaws
and DuBoses were represented by more than one member, either in the
Continentals or the State troops, during the War of the Revolution,
Joseph Kershaw, the most prominent of them, and the grandfather of
the subject of this sketch, having lost his fortune in his efforts
to maintain the patriot cause. John Kershaw died when his son, Joseph
Brevard, was a child of seven years of age. He attended first a "dame
school" in his native town. Afterwards he attended a school taught
by a rigid disciplinarian, a Mr. Hatfield, who is still remembered by
some of the pupils for his vigorous application of the rod on frequent
occasions, with apparent enjoyment on his part, but with quite other
sentiments on the part of the boys. He was sent at the age of fifteen
to the Cokesbury Conference school, in Abbeville District, as it was
then known, where he remained for only a brief time. Leaving this
school, after a short sojourn at home, he went to Charleston, S.C.,
where he became a clerk in a dry goods house. This life not being
congenial to him, he returned to Camden and entered as a student in
the law office of the late John M. DeSaussure, Esq., from which, at
the age of twenty-one, he was admitted to the Bar. He soon afterwards
formed a copartnership with James Pope Dickinson, who was subsequently
killed at the battle of Cherubusco, in the war with Mexico, gallantly
leading the charge of the Palmetto Regiment. Both partners went to the
Mexican War, young Kershaw as First Lieutenant of the Camden company,
known as the DeKalb Rifle Guards. Struck down by fever contracted
while in the service, he returned home a physical wreck, to be
tenderly nursed back to health by his wife, Lucretia Douglass, whom
he had married in 1844. Upon the recovery of his health, the war being
over, he resumed the practice of law in Camden. But it was not long
before his services were demanded in the State Legislature, which
he entered as a member of the lower house in 1852. From this time on
until the opening of hostilities in the war between the States, he
practiced his profession with eminent success, and served also in the
Legislature several terms, being handsomely re-elected when he stood
for the place. He took a deep interest in the struggle then impending,
and was a member of the Secession Convention from his native district.
As it became more and more evident that there would be war, he ran
for and was elected to the office of Colonel of the militia regiment
composed of companies from Kershaw and adjacent districts, which,
early in 1861, by command of Governor Pickens, he mobilized and led to
Charleston and thence to Morris' Island, where the regiment remained
until it volunteered and was called to go to Virginia to enter the
service of the Confederacy. Several of the companies then in his
regiment consented to go. These were supplemented by other companies
which offered their services, and the new regiment, now known as the
Second South Carolina Volunteers, proceeded to Richmond, thence to
Manassas.
From this time until 1864 it is unnecessary to trace his personal
history in this place, because the history of the brigade, to the
command of which he was elected at the reorganization in 1862, and of
its commander cannot be separated. In May, 1864, he was promoted to
the rank of Major General and assigned to the command of a division,
of which his brigade formed a part. His was the First Brigade of the
First Division of the First Corps of the Army of Northern Virginia. On
the retreat from Richmond his division, with other troops, numbering
in all about 6,000 men, was surrounded and captured at the battle of
Sailor's Creek, April 6th, 1865. In this disastrous battle Lieutenant
General Ewell, Major Generals Kershaw and Custis Lee, Brigadier
Generals D.M. DuBose, Semmes, Hunter, and Corse, and Commodores Hunter
and Tucker, of the Confederate States' Navy, ranking on shore duty as
Brigadiers, were captured, together with their respective commands,
almost to a man, after a desperate and sanguinary struggle against
immense odds. Those officers were all sent to Fort Warren, Boston
Harbor, where they remained in prison until some time in August, 1865,
when they were allowed to return to their respective homes.
General Kershaw resumed the profession of law in Camden immediately
upon his return, and enjoyed a large and lucrative practice for many
years, until called to serve his State as Circuit Judge in 1877, when
the government was wrested from the hands of the Republicans. He took
an active part in politics, having been elected to the State Senate in
the fall of 1865. He ran for Congress from his district in 1874, but
was counted out, as it was believed, at the election. He was also
summoned to Columbia by Governor Hampton after his election in 1876,
and rendered important service in securing the peaceable outcome of
that most trying struggle. Upon the convening of the Legislature, he
was at once elected Judge of the Fifth Circuit, a position which he
held with distinguished honor for sixteen years, rendering it to Judge
Ernest Gary in June, 1893, on which occasion there was tendered him
a farewell probably unique in the judicial history of the State,
by eminent representatives of the Bar of his Circuit. With impaired
health, but with unwavering faith and carefulness that no adversity
diminished, he once more returned to the practice of his profession.
It was a gallant effort in the face of tremendous odds, but the
splendid health that he had enjoyed for many years had been undermined
slowly and insidiously by disease incident to a life that had ever
borne the burdens of others, and that had spent itself freely and
unselfishly for his country and his fellowman, and it was evident to
all that his days were numbered. Devoted friends, the names of many
of whom are unknown to me, offered him pecuniary help at this trying
juncture, and these the writer would wish to hold, as he would have
wished, "in everlasting remembrance." In his message to the General
Assembly that year, 1893, Governor B.R. Tillman proposed him as the
proper person to collect the records of the services of South
Carolina soldiers in the Civil War, and to prepare suitable historical
introduction to the volume. The Legislature promptly, and I believe
unanimously, endorsed the nomination and made an appropriation for
the work. To this he gave himself during the two succeeding mouths,
collecting data, and even preparing in part the proposed introduction.
But growing infirmities compelled him to lay it down, and in the
latter part of March, 1894, he became alarmingly ill. All was done for
his relief that the most competent skill and gentle care could do, but
to no avail, and in the night of April 12th, just before midnight, be
breathed his last. Among his last words to his son were these, spoken
when he was perfectly conscious of what was before him: "My son, I
have no doubts and no fears." On the occasion of his funeral there
was a general outpouring of people from the town and vicinity for many
miles, who sincerely mourned the departure of their friend. The State
was represented by the Governor and seven members of his official
family. On the modest monument that marks his last resting place is
inscribed his name and the date of his birth and death. On the base
the legend runs: "I have fought a good fight; I have kept the faith."
It may prove of interest to the surviving members of the old brigade
to know that after the fight of Sailor's Creek, when General Kershaw
and his companions were being taken back to Petersburg and thence to
City Point to be shipped North, he spent a night at a farm house,
then occupied as a field hospital and as quarters by the surgeons and
attendants. They were South Carolinians, and were anxious to hear all
about the fight. In telling of it the pride and love which he reposed
in the old brigade received a wistful testimonial. It was then
confronting Sherman somewhere in North Carolina. Its old commander
said in a voice vibrant with feeling: "If I had only had my old
brigade with me I believe we could have held these fellows in check
until night gave us the opportunity to withdraw."
The roads in every direction near the army had become almost
impassable--mud knee deep in the middle and ruts cut to the hubs on
either side. The roads leading to Manassas were literally strewn with
the carcasses of horses, some even sunk out of sight in the slough and
mud. It would remind one of the passage of Napoleon across the Arabian
desert, so graphically described by historians. The firewood had
become scarce, and had to be carried on the men's shoulders the
distance of a mile, the wagons being engaged in hauling supplies
and the enormous private baggage sent to the soldiers from home. I
remember once on my return from home on a short furlough, I had under
my charge one whole carload of boxes for my company alone. Towards
night every soldier would go out to the nearest woodland, which was
usually a mile distant, cut a stick of wood the size he could easily
carry, and bring into camp, this to do the night and next day. The
weather being so severe, fires had to be kept up all during the night.
Some constructed little boats and boated the wood across the stream,
Bull Run, and a time they generally had of it, with the boat upsetting
the men and the wood floundering and rolling about in the water, and
it freezing cold.
The Department granted a thirty days' leave of absence to all
individuals and companies that would re-enlist for the remaining two
years or the war. Many officers were granted commissions to raise
companies of cavalry and artillery out of the infantry commands, whose
time was soon to expire. Lieutenant T.J. Lipscomb, of Company B, Third
South Carolina Regiment, was given a commission as Captain, and he,
with others, raised a company of cavalry and was given a thirty days'
furlough. A great many companies volunteered in a body, not knowing
at the time that the Conscript Act soon to be enacted would retain in
service all between certain ages in the army, even after their time
had expired.
About the middle of February President Davis called General Johnston
to Richmond to confer with him upon the practicability of withdrawing
the army to the south banks of the Rappahannock. It was generally
understood at the time, and largely the impression since, that the
army was withdrawn in consequence of McClellan's movements on the
Peninsula. But such was not the case. This withdrawal was determined
on long before it was known for certain that McClellan would adopt the
Peninsula as his base of operations. The middle of February began the
removal of the ordnance and commissary stores by railroad to the south
of the rivers in our rear. These had been accumulated at Manassas out
of all proportion to the needs of the army, and against the wishes of
the commanding General. There seemed to be a want of harmony between
the army officers and the officers of the Department in Richmond. This
difference of feelings was kept up throughout the war, greatly to the
embarassment at times of the Generals in the field, and often a great
sacrifice to the service. The officials in Richmond, away from the
seat of war, had a continual predilection to meddle with the internal
affairs of the army. This meddling caused Jackson, who became
immortal in after years, to tender his resignation, and but for the
interference of General Johnston, the world would perhaps never have
heard of the daring feats of "Stonewall Jackson." He asked to be
returned to the professorship at the Military Institute, but General
Johnston held his letter up and appealed to Jackson's patriotism and
the cause for which all were fighting, to reconsider his action and to
overlook this officious intermeddling and remain at his post. This he
did under protest.
Our brigade, and, in fact, all regiments and brigades, had been put
in different commands at different times to suit the caprice of
the President or whims of the Department, and now we were Early's
Division.
On the night of the 9th of March we broke up quarters at Bull Run and
commenced our long and tiresome march for the Rappahannock. We were
ordered by different routes to facilitate the movement, our wagon
trains moving out in the morning along the dirt road and near the
railroad. All baggage that the soldiers could not carry had been sent
to the rear days before, and the greater part destroyed in the great
wreck and conflagration that followed at Manassas on its evacuation.
In passing through Manassas the stores, filled to the very tops with
commissary stores, sutler's goods, clothing, shoes, private boxes, and
whiskey, were thrown open for the soldiers to help themselves. What a
feast for the troops! There seemed everything at hand to tempt him to
eat, drink, or wear, but it was a verification of the adage, "When
it rains mush you have no spoon." We had no way of transporting these
goods, now piled high on every hand, but to carry them on our backs,
and we were already overloaded for a march of any distance. Whiskey
flowed like water. Barrels were knocked open and canteens filled.
Kegs, jugs, and bottles seemed to be everywhere. One stalwart man of
my company shouldered a ten gallon keg and proposed to hold on to it
as long as possible, and it is a fact that a few men carried this
keg by reliefs all night and next day. This was the case in other
companies. When, we got out of the town and on the railroad, the men
were completely overloaded. All night we marched along the railroad
at a slow, steady gait, but all order and discipline were abandoned.
About midnight we saw in our rear great sheets of flame shooting up
from the burning buildings, that illuminated the country for miles
around. Manassas was on fire! Some of the buildings had caught fire
by accident or carelessness of the soldiers, for the firing was not to
begin until next day, after the withdrawal of the cavalry. The
people in the surrounding country had been invited to come in and get
whatever they wished, but I doubt if any came in time to save
much from the burning mass. A great meat curing establishment at
Thoroughfare Gap, that contained millions of pounds of beef and pork,
was also destroyed. We could hear the bursting of bombs as the flames
reached the magazines, as well as the explosion of thousands of small
arm cartridges. The whole sounded like the raging of a great battle.
Manassas had become endeared to the soldiers by its many memories,
and when the word went along the line, "Manassas is burning," it put a
melancholy feeling upon all. Some of the happiest recollections of the
soldiers that composed Kershaw's Brigade as well as all of Johnston's
Army, were centred around Manassas. It was here they had experienced
their first sensations of the soldier, Manassas was the field of their
first victory, and there they had spent their first winter. It seemed
to connect the soldiers of the Confederacy with those of Washington
at Valley Forge and Trenton, the winter quarters of the army of the
patriots. It gave the recollection of rest, a contrast with the many
marches, the hard fought battles, trials, and hardships.
The next day it began to rain, and a continual down-pour continued for
days and nights. Blankets were taken from knapsacks to cover over the
men as they marched, but they soon filled with water, and had to be
thrown aside. Both sides of the railroad were strewn with blankets,
shawls, overcoats, and clothing of every description, the men finding
it impossible to bear up under such loads. The slippery ground and the
unevenness of the railroad track made marching very disagreeable to
soldiers unaccustomed to it. Some took the dirt road, while others
kept the railroad track, and in this way all organizations were lost
sight of, but at night they collected together in regiments, joined
the wagon trains, and bivouaced for the night. Sometimes it would be
midnight before the last of the stragglers came up. We crossed the
Rappahannock on the railroad bridge, which had been laid with plank
to accommodate the passage of wagon trains, on the 11th and remained
until the 19th. Up to this time it was not fully understood by the
authorities in Richmond which route McClellan would take to reach
Richmond, whether by way of Fredericksburg or Yorktown, but now scouts
reported large transports, laden with soldiers, being shipped down the
Potomac to the mouth of the James and York Rivers. This left no doubt
in the minds of the authorities that the Peninsula was to be the
base of operations. We continued our march on the 19th, crossed the
Rapidan, and encamped around Orange Court House.
Beauregard, whom the soldiers loved dearly, and in whom they had every
confidence as a leader, was transferred to the West, to join General
A.S. Johnston, who had come from California and was organizing an army
in Southern Tennessee.
Magruder, commanding at Yorktown, reporting large bodies disembarking
in his front, Kershaw's Brigade, with several others, were placed upon
cars and hurried on through Richmond to his support, leaving the
other portion of the army to continue the march on foot, or on cars,
wherever met. At Richmond we were put on board small sail boats and
passed down the James River for the seat of war. This was a novel mode
of transportation for most of the soldiers on board. It was a most
bitter day and night. A cold east wind blowing from the sea, with a
mist of sleet, the cold on the deck of the little vessel became almost
unbearable. About two hundred were placed on board of each, and it
being so cold we were forced to go below in the "hold," leaving only a
little trap door of four feet square as our only means of ventilation.
Down in the hold, where these two hundred men were packed like
sardines in a box, caused us to almost suffocate, while to remain on
deck five minutes would be to court death by freezing. Thus one would
go up the little ladder, stick his head through the door a moment for
a breath of fresh air, then drop back and allow another the pleasure
of a fresh breathing spell. So we alternated between freezing and
smothering all the way, a distance of one hundred and fifty miles
or more. I had read of the tortures of the "middle passage" and the
packing of the slave ships, but I do not think it could have exceeded
our condition.
Now it must be remembered that for the most of the time on our march
we were separated from our wagon trains that had our tents, cooking
utensils, and other baggage. Many novel arrangements were resorted to
for cooking. The flour was kneaded into dough on an oil cloth spread
upon the ground, the dough pulled into thin cakes, pinned to boards or
barrel heads by little twigs or wooden pegs, placed before the fire,
and baked into very fair bread. Who would think of baking bread on a
ram-rod? But it was often done. Long slices of dough would be rolled
around the iron ram-rods, then held over the fire, turning it over
continually to prevent burning, and in this way we made excellent
bread, but by a tedious process. It is needless to say the meats were
cooked by broiling. We parched corn when flour was scarce, and
often guards had to be placed over the stock at feed time to prevent
soldiers from robbing the horses of their corn.
At midnight the captain of the sloop notified us that we were now at
our place of disembarkation, and we began to scramble up the ladder,
a small lamp hanging near by and out on deck. The wooden wharfs were
even with the deck, so we had no difficulty in stepping from one to
the other. But the night was pitch dark, and our only mode of keeping
direction was taken from the footsteps of the soldiers on the wharf
and in front. Here we came very near losing one of our best soldiers.
Jim George was an erratic, or some said "half witted" fellow, but was
nevertheless a good soldier, and more will be said of him in future
In going out of the hold on deck he became what is called in common
parlance "wrong shipped," and instead of passing to the right, as the
others did, he took the left, and in a moment he was floundering about
in the cold black waves of the river below. The wind was shrieking,
howling, and blowing--a perfect storm--so no one could hear his call
for help. He struck out manfully and paddled wildly about in the
chilly water, until fortunately a passing sailor, with the natural
instinct of his calling, scented a "man overboard." A line was thrown
Jim, and after a pull he was landed on shore, more dead than alive.
"How long were you in the water, Jim?" someone asked.
"Hell! more dan t'ree hours," was the laconic and good-natured reply.
Had we lost Jim here, the regiment would have lost a treat in after
years, as time will show.
We went into camp a mile or so from the historic old Yorktown, if a
few old tumbled down houses and a row of wooden wharfs could be
called a town. The country around Yorktown was low and swampy, and the
continual rains made the woods and fields a perfect marsh, not a dry
foot of land to pitch a tent on, if we had had tents, and scarcely a
comfortable place to stand upon. Fires were built, and around these
men would stand during the day, and a pretense of sleep during the
night. But the soldiers were far from being despondent; although some
cursed our luck, others laughed and joked the growlers. The next day
great numbers visited Yorktown through curiosity, and watched the
Federal Fleet anchored off Old Point Comfort. Here happened a "wind
fall" I could never account for. While walking along the beach with
some comrades, we came upon a group of soldiers, who, like ourselves,
were out sight-seeing. They appeared to be somewhat excited by the way
they were gesticulating. When we came up, we found a barrel, supposed
to be filled with whiskey, had been washed ashore. Some were swearing
by all that was good and bad, that "it was a trick of the d----n
Yankees on the fleet," who had poisoned the whiskey and thrown it
overboard to catch the "Johnny Rebs." The crowd gathered, and with it
the discussion and differences grew. Some swore they would not drink
a drop of it for all the world, while others were shouting, "Open her
up," "get into it," "not so much talking, but more drinking." But who
was "to bell the cat?" Who would drink first? No one seemed to care
for the first drink, but all were willing enough, if somebody else
would just "try it." It was the first and only time I ever saw
whiskey go begging among a lot of soldiers. At last a long, lank,
lantern-jawed son of the "pitch and turpentine State" walked up and
said:
"Burst her open and give me a drink, a man might as well die from a
good fill of whiskey as to camp in this God-forsaken swamp and die of
fever; I've got a chill now."
The barrel was opened. The "tar heel" took a long, a steady, and
strong pull from a tin cup; then holding it to a comrade, he said:
"Go for it, boys, she's all right; no poison thar, and she didn't come
from them thar gun boats either. Yankees ain't such fools as to throw
away truck like that. No, boys, that 'ar liquor just dropped from
Heaven." The battle around the whiskey barrel now raged fast and
furious; spirits flowed without and within; cups, canteens, hats, and
caps were soused in the tempting fluid, and all drank with a relish.
Unfortunately, many had left their canteens in camp, but after getting
a drink they scurried away for that jewel of the soldier, the canteen.
The news of the find spread like contagion, and in a few minutes
hundreds of men were struggling around the barrel of "poison." Where
it came from was never known, but it is supposed to have been dropped
by accident from a Federal man-of-war. As the soldiers said, "All
gifts thankfully received and no questions asked."
General J. Bankhead Magruder was in command of the Peninsula at the
time of our arrival, and had established his lines behind the Warwick
River, a sluggish stream rising near Yorktown and flowing southward
to the James. Along this river light entrenchments had been thrown up.
The river had been dammed in places to overflow the lowlands, and
at these dams redoubts had been built and defended by our heaviest
artillery.
In a few days all our division was in line, and soon thereafter
was joined by Longstreet's, D.H. Hill's, and G.W. Smith's, with the
cavalry under Stuart. General Johnston was Commander-in-Chief.
We remained in camp around Yorktown about two weeks, when General
Johnston decided to abandon this line of defense for one nearer
Richmond. One of the worst marches our brigade ever had was the night
before we evacuated our lines along the Warwick. Remember the troops
had no intention of a retreat, for they were going down the river
towards the enemy. It was to make a feint, however, to appear as if
Johnston was making a general advance, thus to enable the wagon
trains and artillery to get out of the way of the retreating army, and
Kershaw was to cover this retreat.
At dark we began our march through long ponds and pools of water, and
mud up to the knees, in the direction opposite Gloucester Point, and
near a point opposite to the enemy's fleet of gunboats. Through mud
and water we floundered and fell, the night being dark. Mile after
mile we marched at a snail's gait until we came to a large opening,
surrounded by a rail fence. This was about midnight. Here we were
ordered to build great fires of the rails near by. This was done, and
soon the heavens were lit up by this great stretch of roaring fires.
Some had spread their blankets and lay down for a good sleep, while
others sat around the good, warm, crackling blaze, wondering what
next. Scarcely had we all became quiet than orders came to "fall in."
Back over the same sloppy, muddy, and deep-rutted road we marched,
retracing the steps made only an hour before, reaching our old camp
at daylight, but we were not allowed to stop or rest. The retreat had
begun. Magruder, with the other of his forces, was far on the road
towards Williamsburg, and we had to fall in his rear and follow his
footsteps over roads, now simply impassable to any but foot soldiers.
We kept up the march until we had left Yorktown ten miles in our rear,
after marching a distance of nearly thirty miles, and all night and
day. A council of war had been held at Richmond, at which were present
President Davis, Generals Lee, Smith, Longstreet, Johnston, and the
Secretary of War, to determine upon the point at which our forces were
to concentrate and give McClellan battle. Johnston favored Richmond
as the most easy of concentration; thereto gather all the forces
available in Virginia, North Carolina, and South Carolina around
Richmond, and as the enemy approached fall upon and crush him. G.W.
Smith coincided with Johnston. Longstreet favored reinforcing Jackson
in the Valley, drive the enemy out, cross the Potomac, and threaten
Washington, and force McClellan to look after his Capitol. The others
favored Yorktown and the Peninsula as the point of concentration.
But General Johnston found his position untenable, as the enemy could
easily flank his right and left with his fleet.
On May 3rd began the long, toilsome march up the York River and the
James. The enemy hovered on our rear and picked up our stragglers, and
forced the rear guard at every step. At Williamsburg, the evening of
the 4th of May, Johnston was forced to turn and fight. Breastworks and
redoubts had been built some miles in front of the town, and it was
here intended to give battle. The heavy down-pour of rain prevented
Anderson, who was holding the rear and protecting the wagon trains,
from moving, and the enemy began pressing him hard.
Kershaw and the other brigades had passed through Williamsburg when
the fight began, but the continual roar of the cannon told of a battle
in earnest going on in the rear and our troops hotly engaged. Kershaw
and Simms, of our Division, were ordered back at double quick. As we
passed through the town the citizens were greatly excited, the piazzas
and balconies being filled with ladies and old men, who urged the men
on with all the power and eloquence at their command. The woods had
been felled for some distance in front of the earthworks and forts,
and as we neared the former we could see the enemy's skirmishers
pushing out of the woods in the clearing. The Second and Eighth South
Carolina Regiments were ordered to occupy the forts and breastworks
beyond Fort Magruder, and they had a perfect race to reach them before
the enemy did. The battle was raging in all fierceness on the left,
as well as in our front. More troops were put in action on both sides,
and it seemed as if we were going to have the great battle there. D.R.
Jones, Longstreet, and McLaws were more or less engaged along their
whole lines. The Third Regiment did not have an opportunity to fire
a gun that day, nor either the Seventh, but the other two had
a considerable fight, but being mostly behind breastworks their
casualties were light. The enemy withdrew at nightfall, and after
remaining on the field for some hours, our army took up the line of
march towards Richmond. It has been computed that McClellan had with
him on the Peninsula, outside of his marines, 111,000 men of all arms.
As the term of first enlistment has expired, I will give a brief
sketch of some of the field officers who led the regiments during the
first twelve months of the war.
* * * * *
COLONEL JAMES H. WILLIAMS, OF THE THIRD SOUTH CAROLINA VOLUNTEERS.
Colonel James H. Williams, the commander of the Third South Carolina
Regiment, was born in Newberry County, October 4th, 1813. He was of
Welsh descent, his ancestors immigrating to this country with Lord
Baltimore. He was English by his maternal grandmother. The grandfather
of Colonel Williams was a Revolutionary soldier, and was killed at
the battle of Ninety-Six. The father of the subject of this sketch was
also a soldier, and held the office of Captain in the war of 1812.
Colonel Williams, it would seem, inherited his love for the military
service from his ancestors, and in early life joined a company of
Nullifiers, in 1831. He also served in the Florida War. His ardor in
military matters was such he gave little time for other attainments;
he had no high school or college education. When only twenty-four
years old he was elected Major of the Thirty-eighth Regiment of State
Militia, and in 1843 took the Captaincy of the McDuffie Artillery, a
crack volunteer company of Newberry. In 1846 he organized a company
for the Mexican War, and was mustered into service in 1847 as Company
L. Palmetto Regiment. He was in all the battles of that war, and,
with the Palmetto Regiment, won distinction on every field. After his
return from Mexico he was elected Brigadier General and then Major
General of State Militia. He served as Mayor of his town, Commissioner
in Equity, and in the State Legislature.
Before the breaking out of the Civil War, he had acquired some
large estates in the West, and was there attending to some business
connected therewith when South Carolina seceded. The companies that
were to compose the Third Regiment elected him their Colonel, but
in his absence, when the troops were called into service, they were
commanded for the time by Lieutenant Colonel Foster, of Spartanburg.
He joined the Regiment at "Lightwood Knot Springs," the 1st of May.
He commanded the Third during the term of its first enlistment, and
carried it through the first twelve months' campaign in Virginia.
At the reorganization of the regiment, the men composing it being
almost wholly young men, desired new blood at the head of the
volunteer service, and elected Captain James D. Nance in his stead.
After his return to the State, he was placed at the head of the Fourth
and Ninth Regiments of State Troops, and served as such until the
close.
After the war, he returned to Arkansas and continued his planting
operations until the time of his death, August 21st, 1892. He was a
member of the Constitutional Convention of that State in 1874.
Colonel Williams was a born soldier, considerate of and kind to
his men. He was cool and fearless to a fault. He understood tactics
thoroughly, but was wanting in those elements of discipline--its
sternness and rigidity that was required to govern troops in actual
war. His age counted against him as a strict disciplinarian, but not
as a soldier. He was elected to the Legislature of this State before
Reconstruction, as well as a member of the Constitutional Convention
of Arkansas in 1874.
* * * * *
LIEUTENANT COLONEL FOSTER. OF THE THIRD SOUTH CAROLINA VOLUNTEERS.
Lieutenant Colonel C.B. Foster, of the Third South Carolina Regiment,
was born in Spartanburg County, South Carolina, at the old Foster
homestead, near Cedar Springs, in 1817. His father was Anthony Foster,
a native of Virginia. Colonel Foster was a member of the Legislature
before the war, and represented Spartanburg County in the Secession
Convention, along with Simpson Bobo, Dr. J.H. Carlisle, and others.
After the Convention adjourned he returned to his home in Spartanburg
and immediately began drilling a company for the war. He was elected
Captain of the Blackstock Company, which was Company K, in the Third
Regiment of South Carolina Volunteers. The Blackstock Company reported
for duty as soon as volunteers were called for, and went immediately
to the camp of instruction at Lightwood Knot Springs. Colonel Foster
was elected Lieutenant Colonel of the regiment. After spending about
three months at the camp of instruction, the Third Regiment was
ordered to Virginia. Colonel Footer served until some time after the
battle of First Manassas, having participated in that campaign. He
remained in Virginia until the fall of 1861, when he was ordered to go
home by the surgeon, his health having completely given way. It took
long nursing to get him on his feet again. He was devoted to the
Confederate cause, and was always willing and ready to help in any way
its advancement. He gave two sons to his country. One, Captain Perrin
Foster, also of the Third Regiment, was killed at Fredericksburg
leading his command. His other son, James Anthony Foster, gave up
his life in the front of his command during the frightful charge on
Maryland Heights. He was a member of Company K, of the Third Regiment.
Colonel Foster was considered a wealthy man before the war, but when
it ended he was left penniless. At that time he lived near Glenn
Springs, Spartanburg County. In 1867 he moved to Union County and
merchandised until 1884. He was also County Treasurer for a long time.
He died on June 9th. 1897, at the residence of his daughter, Mrs.
Benjamin Kennedy, at Jonesville, Union County. In early life Colonel
Foster married Miss Mary Ann Perrin, a sister of Colonel Thomas
C. Perrin, of Abbeville. She died in 1886. Three daughters survive
Colonel Foster, Mrs. I.G. McKissick, Mrs. Benjamin Kennedy, and Mrs.
J.A. Thompson. Colonel Foster was one of God's noblemen. He was true
to his friends, his family, and his country. He never flinched from
danger nor from his duty. He was faithful at all times and under all
circumstances to the best principles of the Anglo-Saxon race.
* * * * *
COLONEL THOMAS G. BACON, OF THE SEVENTH SOUTH CAROLINA VOLUNTEERS.
Thomas Glascock Bacon was born in Edgefield Village of English
ancestry on the 24th of June, 1812. He was the youngest son of Major
Edmund Bacon, the eloquent and distinguished member of the Edgefield
Bar, and author of the humorous "Georgia Scenes," written under the
nom de plume of Ned Brace. Colonel Bacon's mother was a sister of
Brigadier General Thomas F. Glascock, of Georgia, a gallant and
distinguished officer of the Revolutionary War, and after whom Colonel
Bacon was named. He received the early rudiments of education at the
Edgefield Academy, and when at the proper age he was sent for his
classical education to the Pendleton English and Classical Institute,
under the tutilage of that profound scholar and educator, Prof. S.M.
Shuford. Colonel Bacon was fond of the classics, and had acquired rare
literary attainments, and had he cultivated his tastes in that line
assiduously, he no doubt would have become the foremost scholar of the
State, if not the South. He was passionately fond of manly sports and
out-door exercise. He was a devotee of the turf, and this disposition
led him early in life to the development of fast horses and a breeder
of blooded stock. He was a turfman of the old school, and there were
but few courses in the South that had not tested the mettle of his
stock. But like his brother in arms, Colonel Cash, of the Eighth, and
brother turfman, he became disgusted with the thievery and trickery of
later day sports and quit the turf, still owning at his death some
of the most noted racers of the times, Granger Lynchburg, John Payne,
Glengary, Father Ryan, Ned Brace, and others of lesser note.
He paid much attention to military matters, and held several offices
in the State militia before the war. He, with his friend and superior,
General M.L. Bonham, enlisted in the "Blues" and served in the
Palmetto Regiment in the war with the Seminoles. At the breaking out
of the Civil War he, with Elbert Bland, afterwards Colonel of the
Seventh, organized the first company from Edgefield, and was elected
Captain. The companies assigned to the Seventh Regiment unanimously
elected him the Colonel, and in that capacity he led his regiment to
Virginia, being among the first regiments from the State to reach the
seat of war. He was at the battle of Manassas, and participated in
the Peninsular campaign. At the reorganization of the regiment at the
expiration of the term of enlistment, his failing health forced him
to decline a re-election as Colonel. Returning home, and the State
needing the services of trained soldiers to command the State troops,
notwithstanding his failing health, he cheerfully accepted the command
of the Seventh Regiment State troops. In 1863 he was elected to the
State Senate. He died at his home, Pine Pond, in Edgefield County,
September 25th, 1876, leaving a widow, but no children.
Strong in his friendship and earnest in his affection, but with a
peaceable and forgiving temperament, pure in his motives, charitable
in all things, generous to the needy, affectionate to his friends and
relatives, chivalric and honorable in every relation of life, brave in
action, and with that fortitude under adverse circumstances that makes
heroes of men, just and impartial to the officers and men under his
command, pleasant and sociable towards his equals in rank, obedient
and courteous to his superiors, few men lived or died with so much
respect and admiration, genuine friendship, and love from all as
Colonel Thomas G. Bacon, of the Seventh South Carolina Volunteers.
* * * * *
COLONEL E.B.C. CASH, OF THE EIGHTH SOUTH CAROLINA VOLUNTEERS.
Ellerbe Boggan Crawford Cash was born near Wadesboro, Anson County,
North Carolina, on July 1st, 1823. His father was Boggan Cash, a
Colonel in militia of that State, merchant, and member of Legislature.
His mother was Miss Elizabeth Ellerbe, of Chesterfield County, S.C.
He was the only child. His father died when he was near two years old,
and his mother returned to her father's, in South Carolina. He was
educated at Mt. Zion Institute, Winnsboro, S.C., and South Carolina
College. He read law under General Blakeney, at Cheraw, S.C., and
practiced in partnership a short while with Alexander McIver, Esq.,
the Solicitor of the Eastern Circuit, and father of Chief Justice
Henry McIver, of South Carolina. But his mother owning a large landed
estate, and several hundred negroes, he soon retired from the Bar to
look after her affairs, and devoted himself to planting and raising
fine horses and cattle. He married in 1847 his cousin, Miss Allan
Ellerbe, of Kershaw, S.C. He was elected to the Legislature from his
County, Chesterfield. He was elected Colonel, Brigadier General, and
Major General of State militia.
When the war commenced he was one of the Major Generals of the State.
He volunteered and was elected Colonel of the Eighth South Carolina
Regiment. At the reorganization he did not offer for re-election, but
came home and was made Colonel in State troops. He was kind to the
poor the whole war, and gave away during the war over 50,000 bushels
of corn and large quantities of other provisions to soldiers'
families, or sold it in Confederate money at ante bellum prices. After
the war all notes, claims, and mortgages he held on estates of old
soldiers he cancelled and made a present of them to their families.
In one case the amount he gave a widow, who had a family and small
children, was over $5,000, her husband having been killed in his
regiment.
After the war he continued to farm. In 1876 he took an active part in
redeeming the State, and contributed his time, advice, and services,
and a great deal of money. In 1881 he fought a duel with Colonel Wm.
M. Shannon, in which he killed Colonel Shannon. Colonel Cash was the
challenged party. His wife died in May, 1880. Colonel Cash died
March 10, 1888, and was buried in the family burying ground at his
residence, Cash's Depot, S.C.
Colonel Cash was a man of strong character, fearless, brave, generous
and true, a good friend and patriot. He made no religious profession.
He was charitable to the extreme, and was the soul of honor, and while
he had many enemies, being a fearless man and a good hater, he
had such qualities as inspired the respect and admiration of his
fellow-men.
* * * * *