The following day I entered camp with my comrades among great cheers,
all having thought me dead or a prisoner. Major Martin asked me how I
got through. I told him I took his advice and did the best I could. I
related to him the incidents that I met with. He said, "Well, I
congratulate you. I don't believe one in a thousand would have escaped."
"I was glad I was the one." We were ordered to strike tents at Canton,
and we retraced our steps again towards Jackson, a distance of between
twenty and twenty-five miles. It was one of the hottest days of the
season. The road bed being red clay. Our forces now amounted to about
eight thousand men, and marching in column with artillery, wagon train
and all the paraphernalia appertaining to a moving army, raised such
intense dust that it was impossible to recognize one's file-leader in
his immediate front. Every step of every individual raised clouds of
dust, which lay ankle deep. It was actually suffocating. Men and horses
would gasp for breath. The men occasionally would expectorate large
lumps of clay that settled in their throats, and no water to be had. We
didn't pass a single stream of any kind. It was a forced march to get
in the enemy's rear and to cut off reinforcement and supplies for
Grant's invading forces onto Vicksburg. The enemy was also making back
to Jackson on the Clinton Road which ran nearly parallel to the Canton
Road, and we could see their advance by the column of dust to our right.
Just before dark a very heavy rain and thunder storm set in. It was
preferable to the previous conditions of the weather, although it put us
half leg deep in sticky red mud. It got so dark we could not see
anything and the rain continued pouring down in all its fury. It was nip
and tuck as to which army would reach Jackson first. We got there just a
little ahead of the enemy in time to occupy the ditches which now were
nearly knee deep in water. In that condition we passed the night,
expecting to be attacked momentarily. Men were detailed long in the rear
to cook rations for the men in the ditch, which were issued along the
line, and consisted of corn bread cooked (a la hate) and a piece of fat
bacon. A very amusing incident happened to one of my comrades, W. A.
Grimes, who early on our march, and before the dust got so dense, had to
step aside for some reason, and being detained while the column kept
onward, threw him some distance behind his command. The State of
Georgia had sent her troops some shoes; the description of my draw I
have already stated, and some white wool hats. Grimes put his name on
the front of his hat in large capital letters, and as he hurried to
catch up with his command, someone hollowed as he passed, "How are you
Bill Grimes?" Grimes stopped in surprise to see who knew him in some
other command. Others took up the word all along the line of "How are
you Bill Grimes?" Grimes hurried on, on his way, the perspiration
running down his face, which had the appearance of being covered with a
mask. He could not account for his sudden popularity until he pulled off
his hat to wipe off his face. He saw his name on his hat and quickly
turned it wrong side out. His name had passed all along the column
faster than he could travel and passed Howell's Battery long before he
caught up with it. Early in the morning the enemy made demonstrations
all along our line and was repulsed. It had quit raining. The artillery
kept up a desultory fire for eight days and nights. The enemy's forces
were at least three to our one and therefore, could relieve each other,
while we were obliged to be kept continually on duty, and consequently
became exhausted, my eyes were blood shot, men loaded and fired
mechanically, and when so exhausted that I couldn't stand any longer, I
dropped beside one of the pieces and in a jiffy, was asleep. I couldn't
even hear the report of the guns within a few feet of me. The strain was
more than my physique could stand. I got sick and unconscious, and when
I came to myself, I was in Yazoo City in a private house, snugly fixed,
and a kindly lady by my bedside, whose name was Mrs. Lyons. She cried
for joy to see me recover my senses. I asked her where I was and how
long I had been there. She said just a week. I asked her what place it
was and she said "Yazoo City." I shall always remember gratefully the
kind treatment I received from that worthy family, and when after a
week's convalescence, I took my leave with many thanks. The lady said
she hoped that her brother who was in the Virginia army would in case of
sickness receive the attention that she would bestow on any Confederate
soldier. Such was the spirit that prevailed throughout the Confederate
States.