My cousin in Macon gave a little social entertainment and sent me an
invitation. I showed the same to the Doctor, and he said, Well go, I
give you 48 hours. The following morning I hurried to the Quartermaster
with my furlough for transportation by placing my permission on his
desk. The train just blew the signal for departure; I picked up the
transportation and in my hurry left my furlough on the desk. Between
Atlanta and Griffin the guards passed through the coaches to inspect all
papers of the passengers. When they came to me I found my transportation
in my side pocket minus my forty-eight hours leave of absence. I
explained how it might have happened, and hoped they would let me
continue, but I was requested to get off at Griffin, which I did, and
asked the guard to conduct me to the Provost Marshal, so that I might
explain, and he could inform himself, never doubting but that he would
wire and inform himself of the correctness of my statement and let me
proceed. Instead, he told me he had heard such statements before and
informed the guard to be especially vigilant in regard to me, so I was
conducted to an old livery stable that served as a prison. This was in
Dec. 1863. I spoke to my guard if there was not a way by which I could
communicate with Dr. Crawford in Atlanta; he said he did not know. I
said, Please tell the Provost to write to Dr. Crawford about me.
Presently one of the guards brought me a broom, saying, It is a rule
when a new comer comes to make him sweep out the calaboose. I said, Well
this time you will have to break your rule. Do I understand that you
refuse to comply? I certainly do. He went to the Sergt. of the Guard and
made his report as to what passed between us. The Sergt. came at once,
saying I understand you refuse to sweep out the calaboose. I certainly
do; is it for this which I am arrested? He said, Do you know the
penalty, sir? No, and I don't care, was my reply. He remarked, You'll be
bucked and gagged for two hours. I again said, "You'll have a nice time
doing it." He answered. Not so much talk; pull off your overcoat. I
said, If I do I'll make you feel sorry for it. All this occurred while I
was standing before the fire place, with my hands behind me. In front of
me about five feet distance, stood a wooden bench. The Sergeant stood
between me and it. Calling for the guard to come up, they asked him if
they should bring their guns. He said no, only one bring his gun. They
came up. When the Sergeant put his hand on me as if to unbutton my coat.
I had moistened the knuckles of my fingers by passing them between my
lips, concentrated the muscles' tension and struck the Sergeant over the
bridge of his nose, sending him sprawling backward over the bench, his
head hitting the pavement, and I had to dodge to avoid his heels hitting
me under the chin. The man who had the musket made a lunge at me.
Fortunately I had a memorandum book in my side pocket which he hit and
dented the leaves of it half way through. I grabbed at the gun and
caught it just at the curve of the bayonet, close to the muscle, and
jerked it out of his hands. I made moulinets, holding the gun by the
barrel and bayonet, and drove the whole guard, consisting of twelve men,
before me. One of them stopped at the rack, close to the door, which was
open, to reach for a gun, when I hit him with the butt end on the arm,
just below the shoulder, and sent him to the ground, falling as he went
in the middle of the street. The exit of the men out of the guard house
was so hasty it attracted the attention of the populace so that in a
very short space of time a crowd had assembled before the door, looking
askance as to what had happened, among which was a Lieut. Colonel,
judging from the ensign he wore. Advancing to me, who stood quietly at
the entrance, at parade rest, he, undoubtedly thinking that I was the
sentinel, asked me what was the matter, what are the casualties. I
simply remarked, Nobody hurt on my side, Colonel. What is all this
assemblage here doing? So I explained to him what had happened and the
cause of it. He asked me where were the guards. I pointed out some of
them in the crowd; they gradually approached. He asked some of them to
lead him to the Provost Marshal, whose name was Capt. Willis, which
gentleman (pardon the expression) he berated to the utmost, telling him
that he was not fit for a hog herder much less to be in command of human
beings, who ever heard of bucking and gagging in the Confederate Army. I
am going to report you to the proper authorities, and he ordered him to
send me back to Atlanta by the next train, so that I might prove my
assertion. The train from Macon to Atlanta was due within half an hour,
so I was sent back under guard of a Lieutenant and four men with loaded
muskets, with orders to shoot should I make an effort to escape. Luckily
in my school days, which were close to an army post, I went twice a
week to the armory to take lessons in boxing and sword exercise, and
while I do not profess to be an expert in those sciences, they served me
tolerably well in the above stated instance, and others through which it
has been my misfortune to pass. Arriving in Atlanta, I was conducted to
the Provost Marshal. The Lieutenant in command of the guard handed him a
letter which the Provost read, after which he looked at me, standing in
the middle of the room, and said, Well Lieutenant, I'll take charge of
the prisoner; you can go back by the next train. The Lieutenant saluted
him and he and his guard departed. It was between four and five o'clock
in the afternoon. There were two more men at the office at their desks,
and they soon left the room, leaving me and the Provost by ourselves.
Turning to me he said, You belong to Walker's Brigade? I said, Yes,
Howell's Battery. He said, Well I thought I knew you. He said, Well you
got in a h----l of a scrape. I answered that I did not know that a man
losing his furlough was so criminal. He looked up at me in surprise,
saying, This is not what you are charged with; you are charged with
striking a superior officer; do you know the penalty? Yes, shot if found
guilty. What did you do it for? About that time I had been eyeing my
questioner all along, I thought I knew him but I could not place him. He
was Capt. Beebee of a South Carolina Regiment. I answered him thus,
"Well, Captain, I fought for the rights of the Confederacy for the last
three years and thought five minutes for myself was not too much." I
explained to him all of the circumstances leading to my present
condition. He exclaimed, "My God, why did you not kill him?" I said I
did my best, I only got one lick at him and I give him a good one. He
said Go over to the quartermaster's and see if you find your papers; if
not I will give you some that will carry you through. I ran across the
street, asking the quartermaster if I did not leave my furlough on his
desk that morning. He opened a drawer and handed me my paper. I thanked
him and reported my find to Capt. Beebee, who said, I know you are
alright, you can go. We shook hands and I went my way to the fair ground
hospital for the night to make a new start in the morning. Dr. Crawford
seeing me said, I thought you had gone to Macon. I answered that I had
gone a part of the way and was brought back under guards. How was that?
So I recounted to him all the circumstances and illustrated with a
musket the picture of the guard getting out of my reach. Dr. Crawford
laughed till he cried. Well you had a time of it, said he. I sure did,
and half of my permit is out. He said, Well go and stay as long as you
like it, but not too long. He wrote me another permit and I again made
for the train leading to Macon. This time the guard did not come aboard
inspecting papers, but the train on arriving at Griffin was entered by
the guards and papers were shown. I was sitting by the window of my
coach when I heard some one say "Sergt. there is the fellow, the same
fellow," pointing at me. I had not noticed the Sergt. at first as I was
looking above and beyond him, and I saw him standing right close beside
the train, in front of the window. I put out my head to speak to him; he
had a bandage around his forehead and both of his eyes were inflamed and
discolored. I said to him, Sergt. are you hurt? He did not reply, so I
said, I am sorry for you, the next time you want to have some fun in the
bucking, gagging line you try some one else who likes that kind of sport
better than I do. The train departed and nobody even looked at my papers
that day. I arrived at Macon a day after the feast, but had a pleasant
day anyhow.