GENERAL JOHNSTON’S FAILURE TO STRIKE—SHERMAN
Recurring to my service in Captain Britton’s company, acting as escort
to General Hood at Dalton, Georgia, where I described the meeting of the
several generals with General Hood at his headquarters in the rear of
Railroad Gap: On our return to camp that night after supper, Captain
Britton suggested he should go up to headquarters and pump Major Sellars
on the meaning of the meeting that morning. He reported on his return
from a visit to headquarters that General Mower, commanding Hooker’s old
corps, had moved down to Snake Creek Gap during the day, which was
located about nineteen miles in our rear and about ten miles west of
Dalton.
General Hood plead with General Johnston that morning for permission to
move out of his works through Railroad and Rocky Face Gaps with his
corps and defeat Sherman’s Army before Mower could return to reinforce
them. Captain Britton said that he would bet our army would be in full
retreat that night, falling back to Resaca, which prediction was
verified, as, by daylight next morning, our infantry and artillery were
engaged with the enemy at Resaca, where we came very near losing a large
part of our army by having their retreat cut off.
Had General Johnston yielded to General Hood’s plan, there is no
question but what he could have destroyed Sherman’s Army; here was a
golden opportunity lost by General Johnston, and was the beginning of
the downfall of the Confederacy.
After about two weeks I succeeded in getting a horse with the regiment
and continued with the regiment during the whole of the North Georgia
campaign, the details of which I will not venture to insert, as they
will be recorded fully in a history now being written by Colonel Ben F.
Weems of Houston.
During the siege of Atlanta General Sherman started out two cavalry
expeditions, one under a General Stoneman to move around the right wing
of our army, and one under General McCook around the left wing of our
army, both to unite on the Macon line of railroad, and to destroy and
tear up the same, then move on to Andersonville and release our
prisoners. Had these expeditions proven a success, with an army of
probably twenty-five or thirty thousand released prisoners turned loose
in our rear, it would have wound up the Confederacy. At Atlanta, General
Hood took command of our army, not exceeding thirty-six thousand muskets
and, to use his words, “This army through General Johnston’s retreating
from Dalton, had become an army of laborers by day and travelers by
night,” while the army at Dalton, including Polk’s corps at Rome,
numbered eighty-six thousand muskets, and was better equipped and
organized than any army the West had ever had. The North Georgians and
Tennesseans, largely constituting this army, with their families inside
of the enemy’s lines, were anxious and eager for an advance, and there
is no question of doubt had General Hood been permitted to give battle
at Dalton, our army would have recaptured Tennessee and Kentucky.
Referring back to the enemy’s cavalry expedition out of Atlanta: General
Stoneman, with a large part of his force, and a lot of convalescents in
the town of Macon, Georgia, were captured near Macon by General Iverson,
commanding Georgia cavalry. General Wheeler with our brigade, Ross’ and
Roddy’s, forced McCook to a general engagement on the evening of the
second day between Noonan and Philpott’s Ferry, where they finally
surrendered, with the exception of himself and staff, and Colonel
Brownlow and some other line officers, who swam the river that night and
made their escape.
General Wheeler issued an order that night for no man to cross the river
after these fellows, when I, with several of our regiment, decided there
must be some mistake about it and crossed the river to try to catch
these fellows, specially anxious to capture Colonel Brownlow.
Immediately after crossing the river we found a quartermaster’s clerk,
so he represented himself to be, left wounded at a house. His wound,
however, was not very serious we thought. He had on a magnificent pair
of boots, which just about fitted me and I had been unable to secure
boots, only wearing shoes, when I proposed to him to exchange with me,
which he readily did. While he was pulling off his boots, the lady of
the house came in and opened a tirade of abuse on me for taking a poor,
wounded man’s boots. I told her I had but just come out of a Federal
prison where they treated us worse than that and I was satisfied that my
shoes would prove more comfortable to this man at Andersonville, than
the boots, to which our prisoner agreed. We then continued our pursuit
on the main road to Wedowee, the county seat of Randolph County,
Alabama, occasionally taking a prisoner, whom we would turn over to
reliable citizens, to be taken to West Point where we had a garrison. We
were unable to secure many prisoners, probably not exceeding eight or
ten, as those afoot would hear us coming in the road and dart into the
brush, while their officers impressed every horse they could lay their
hands on and soon outdistanced us with their fresh horses.
At Wedowee we found a tanyard, where I purchased a lot of good leather,
sufficient to rig a Texas saddle. We had some men detailed to make
saddles, who were experts in such work and moved down with the army as
fast as it retreated. Our first shop was at Ackworth, Georgia, where
they did a good deal of work, but were prevented from turning out
anything extensive ever after, for the reason they were unable to get
leather. I paid one hundred and twenty-five dollars for the leather I
got at this tanyard. Colonel Harrison promised me, after my return from
prison, that if I would furnish the leather he would have rigged for me
one of the finest saddles that could be made, which was the inducement
for me to carry this roll of leather on my horse’s back.
Going back into the town from the tanyard, we stopped at a hotel to get
some dinner. This was one of the ordinary country hotels with a porch in
front and large square columns under the porch. While eating dinner, I
had a seat at the end of the table where I could see out on the street.
The hotel was located somewhat under the hill, away from the square,
when I discovered Carter Walker, one of our party, who had finished
dinner, behind one of the posts with his pistol out, talking to some one
on the street towards the courthouse. Having his pistol out suggested to
me that there was trouble ahead, so I jumped up and told the boys to
come on. As we got out on the porch we discovered about fifteen or
twenty men on their horses near the courthouse, with one of them talking
to Carter Walker, about fifty yards distant from us. As soon as we came
out, he retired and when he got back with his crowd, said something to
them and immediately they wheeled and left town. This proved to be a
party of bushwhackers, who were not anxious for a fight with us. We now
decided to return and when a few miles from town, we heard of an old
gentleman, whose name I have forgotten, the only Rebel citizen in that
section, whom we decided to go and see and get some information from.
After reaching his house and getting acquainted, we decided, on his
urgent request, to stay with him that night, as we were very tired, as
were also our horses, and we did not suppose there was any great need
for our services immediately after the destruction of the enemy’s
cavalry. This old gentleman had had considerable trouble with his Tory
neighbors, who came to his house several nights and opened fire on him,
which he, his old lady and his daughter, a barefooted girl of eighteen,
returned with their squirrel rifles through port holes cut in the logs
of his house.
On the information of our old friend, we decided to visit the house of a
Tory neighbor of his, across the mountain, who belonged to the Tory
regiment in camp at Rome, which we did. Riding up to the house in blue
overcoats, we called for a drink of water, when a lady invited us in,
supposing that we were Federal soldiers. In our talk with them, there
being two other ladies in the house, we represented that we were Federal
spies on our way to Andersonville to make arrangements about the escape
of our prisoners there, which created quite an interest with these
women, who told us that a large number of young men of the neighborhood
belonged to the First Federal Alabama Cavalry, stationed near Rome, and
quite a number of them were expected home pretty soon on a furlough. We
then arranged with them to tell their boys about our visit and tell them
that we expected to return there in about ten days, as we would probably
need their assistance and we wanted to confer with them. Our idea was
that we would return there at that time, with our company, and capture
the whole outfit.
After making complete arrangements, we started back towards Philpott’s
Ferry, where we again recrossed the Chattahoochie and, on our arrival at
Noonan, found that Wheeler had moved over to Covington, on the Augusta
road.
Riding all that day in a drizzling rain, we called at a house for the
purpose of getting some feed for our horses and something to eat for
ourselves. Night had already set in. We asked the gentleman if he could
take care of us that night, give us a place to sleep on the floor, as we
never slept in a bed, and get something to eat for our horses and
ourselves. His answer was, “Certainly, gentlemen; light and come in.” I
told him before we got off our horses that we were about out of money
and did not have enough, perhaps, to pay our fare, when he stated that
if his wife had anything left from supper we could have it and he would
give us some shattered corn for our horses. We, of course, didn’t feel
very comfortable under such liberality, but decided to stay,
nevertheless, and sleep down in his barn, some distance from the house.
While we were waiting for his wife to gather what she had left from
supper, he asked us if we were that command the other day that fired on
the Federals when they were tearing up the railroad near his house. I
told him that we were, and he said, “They were in my pasture trying to
catch my horses, when they heard the guns fire and you ought to have
seen those devils run.” When we went in to supper we found a little
piece of cornbread and a little butter, all they had left from supper,
so the woman stated, not enough to satisfy one man’s hunger. We did not
sit down at the table, didn’t touch anything they had to offer us, and
went down to the crib to get the shattered corn for our horses, which he
consented for us to take, fed our horses and laid down to rest for the
balance of the night. Next morning we got up early and without going to
the house, proceeded on the road towards Covington. Here now, was a fair
illustration of the want of appreciation of a Confederate soldier, with
a selfish lot of people, whom we occasionally met. Rest assured it was
very discouraging to us. The idea of coming all the way from Texas to
fight for and protect these people! He had told us that we saved his
horses from capture by engaging the enemy near his house; you can
imagine our disgust at such treatment. We now proceeded on the Covington
road. When about two miles from there we came to a large, white house, a
magnificent place, and rode up to the gate. A man about twenty-five
years old, well dressed, wearing a white starched shirt, the first we
had seen in a long time, came out to the gate. When within twenty feet
of us, espying the leather on my horse’s back, tied to the rear of the
saddle, he called out, “I want that leather.” I said, “If you need it
any worse than I do, you are welcome to it.” He said he did, he wanted
to make shoes out of it. I told him that I wanted to make a saddle out
if it, to ride to keep Federals off of him, when he insisted that he
needed it worse. I then told him that we wanted some breakfast and some
feed for our hoses. He said, “All right, gentlemen; light and come in.”
Before getting down I said, “I had better tell you that we are nearly
out of money, not enough to pay for breakfast and feed, away from our
command unexpectedly, but as soon as we get with them and we have an
opportunity, we will send it to you.” He stated that he couldn’t afford
to feed us without pay, that the armies had been around him for some
time and had nearly eaten him out of house and home. I told him that he
needn’t say anything more, that we didn’t want anything he had, although
our horses were hungry, as well as ourselves. As we rode off he called
after us, “I’ll feed you for that leather,” thus adding insult, but we
decided not to notice him.
About three miles further down the road we came to another house, a
somewhat humble cottage, and stopped to make some inquiry, when a lady
came out to the gate and we asked how far down the road we could find a
house where we could get something to eat for ourselves and feed for our
horses. She asked us if we had tried at the big, white house we had
passed on the road. We told her that we had and were refused because we
had no money. She then insisted that we come in and partake of such as
she had, telling us that she had very little left, as the commissary
from Atlanta had visited her and taken all the corn she had, except five
barrels, which in Georgia, means twenty-five bushels. This, she and her
two daughters had made with their own hands, her husband being in the
Virginia army. She then told us about this man at the big, white house,
who had never been in the army, but had an exemption on pretense of
working in a saltpetre cave and had never had any forage taken by the
commissary from Atlanta, as he had protection papers, so she called
them, from his general at Atlanta. I merely mention these cases to show
you the condition at that time, of the State of Georgia, the worthy
people submitting patriotically to all manner of abuse by some of our
army officials, while some of the rich, through nefarious practices,
escaped the weight of war. Thanking this lady for her kind offer, which
we could not afford to accept, we continued on this road and two miles
further on struck a large cornfield with tempting roasting ears and
decided to stop, build a fire, dry our clothes and roast corn for our
meal, feeding our horses on the same, in moderation. We had to build our
fire of rails taken off the fence and very soon were enjoying our
roasting ears and the warm fire, being somewhat chilled by the rain. The
proprietor of the place came up the road and, judging from his manner
and looks, was pretty mad, when he said, “Gentlemen, if you had come to
the house I would have gladly given you a good meal and fed your horses,
rather than to see the destruction of my rails.” I told him that we
didn’t believe it, that we had tried several places up on the road and
were refused because we had no money and he, no doubt, noting that we
were in no mood for argument, decided that he had better say no more. We
then proceeded on our road to Covington. When on our arrival there we
found that Wheeler, with all the cavalry having horses fit for service,
had gone on a raid into Middle Tennessee, by way of Dalton, tearing up
the railroad in Sherman’s rear for many miles, and finally entering
Middle Tennessee, returning by way of Mussels Shoals, rejoining the army
below Atlanta.
After the battle of Jonesboro, Hood started on his fatal Middle
Tennessee campaign, his march to the Tennessee River being covered by
our cavalry, making a feint at Rome, Georgia, to which point General
Sherman had followed, confidently expecting to give Hood battle at
Gadsden and never suspecting his move towards the Tennessee River. While
concentrating his army at Rome, Harrison’s Brigade, under Colonel
Harrison, commanding our regiment, made a feint on Rome by dismounting,
hiding our horses in the rear in the woods, out of sight, and advanced
on the outer works of Rome, preceded by a line of skirmishers. For this
purpose, not having our battle flag with us, we used a new flag, sent us
from Nashville, made by a couple of young ladies from their silk
dresses, with the name of Terry’s Texas Rangers worked in gold letters
and some Latin words on the other side. After skirmishing with Sherman’s
infantry a short time, we retired down the valley, which at this point
was perhaps a couple of miles wide, from the hills to the bottoms.
Falling back that night some six or eight miles, we struck a wooded
ridge, running from the hills to the bottom, perhaps nearly three miles
long. This ridge overlooked the country in front towards Rome, several
miles. General Sherman coming out in person with a corps of his
infantry, expecting to give Hood battle the next morning, discovered
there was only a handful of cavalry in his front, which was Harrison’s
Brigade, and which he was specially anxious to capture. For this purpose
he sent a heavy cavalry force, perhaps three times our number, into our
rear, flanking our position by moving through the hills on our left,
then occupying nearly every road in our rear, for eight or ten miles.
During the night we received reinforcements of Pillow’s Brigade, a new
command, which had been in only one engagement, at La Fayette, Georgia,
where they were badly handled, causing the loss of a great many killed
and wounded and in consequence, they were a little demoralized. We also
received a section of artillery, two pieces, under a lieutenant, whose
name I do not remember.
This artillery was stationed on a hill to the left of our position,
under an old gin house.
Immediately after taking position the artillery opened on the enemy, a
heavy line of battle making its appearance in the edge of the woods,
about a mile distant. The Rangers were kept mounted, drawn up near this
old gin house, supporting the battery, when all the rest of the two
brigades had been dismounted with their horses immediately in the rear,
out of sight of the enemy.
Very soon a courier from the right of our line, dashed up to Colonel
Harrison and reported that the enemy were flanking us, down in the
bottom, with a heavy force. Harrison abused him, told him to go back and
tell his colonel if he sent him another such message he would have him
court martialed, but very soon a lieutenant dashed up from the extreme
right of our line, reporting the enemy advancing in the bottom, and
about to outflank us, when Colonel Harrison decided to ride down in the
rear of our line and ascertain conditions for himself. Immediately the
enemy raised a shout and charged. The lieutenant of the battery,
concluding that his guns were in danger of being captured, limbered up
and ran down to the road, where he met Colonel Harrison returning and
was by him ordered to unlimber and open again on the enemy, when he
succeeded in firing one shot and was sabered right over his guns by the
enemy’s cavalry. In the meantime, through some misapprehension of
orders, the Alabama Brigade broke for their horses, followed by the
balance of our brigade, when our regiment was ordered to charge their
cavalry, which we did, striking them on their flank, using our
six-shooters, to which they paid no attention, simply calling out,
“Clear the road for the Fourth Regulars!” This Fourth Regulars was
commanded by a Captain McIntyre from Brenham, Texas, who was in the
United States Army, a lieutenant, when the war broke out, having just
graduated at West Point.
It is hardly necessary to say that finding the enemy’s cavalry in our
rear for a great many miles, resulted in a general stampede, everybody
trying to make their escape out of it. In recording this engagement I
regret to have to mention the loss of our beautiful flag which, encased
in a rubber cover, slipped off its staff and was found by a Major
Weiler, commanding a battalion of the Seventeenth Mounted Indiana
Infantry, and after many years, returned to us at Dallas, Texas, by
Governor Mount and staff, instructed to do so by a joint resolution of
the Indiana Legislature, in response to a memorial, drawn up and sent by
me.
In this engagement the Terry Rangers lost no prisoners, had only a few
wounded and none killed, while the Alabamians’ loss was quite heavy in
prisoners and the balance of Harrison’s Brigade had very few men taken
prisoners. I made my escape by crossing the big road, being joined by
about eight or ten Alabamians, one of whom was shot in the fleshy part
of the thigh, which somewhat demoralized him, when he called on me,
“Texas, can you take us out of here?” I told him, “Yes, follow me; I’ll
take you out.” I struck out straight for the river bottom, the Federal
cavalry not following us, and when out of sight of the main road, in a
little branch bottom, I called a halt and told the men my plan of trying
to swim the river, as the road ahead of us seemed to be occupied for
many miles, judging by the scattered firing a great distance ahead of
us. The wounded man straightened up in the saddle and asked me if I was
an officer. I told him, “No,” and he said that he was a lieutenant and
would take command of the squad. I told him he could take command of his
own men, but he couldn’t command me, and told his men, “Now, all of you
boys that want to go out with me, come on,” when they all followed me,
including the lieutenant.
Reaching the high ground on the other side of the branch, I discovered a
house, with a lone cavalry-man at the front gate, and, getting a little
nearer, I recognized him as one Joe Harris, of our company, who was well
acquainted in that section, having married, near Cedartown, the daughter
of a Doctor Richardson, just on the other side of the river. He
suggested to me that he knew of a batteau about seven miles this side of
Rome; that we go up there, put our saddles and equipments into the boat,
swim our horses across, then go to Doctor Richardson and get a good
dinner; to which I, of course, readily consented. On our way to this
batteau, following the river in the bottom, we struck hundreds of
Alabamians trying to find a crossing place. These men we took along with
us and when we reached the boat we were the first ones to cross, leaving
the Alabamians there to cross as fast as they were able. Joe and I then
rode to Doctor Richardson’s, about ten or fifteen miles, and by three
o’clock sat down to a sumptuous dinner. Here we stayed all night and the
next morning recrossed the river, finally striking the main Gadsden road
and finding our stampeded forces gathering at some gap, the name of
which I have forgotten. Here we met General Wheeler, with the balance of
his command. We then moved down to the town of Gadsden, where we
recrossed the river and spent several days resting our horses and
ourselves.
General Hood, in the meantime, with his army, crossed the Tennessee
River, and General Sherman returned to Atlanta, leaving Thomas’ Corps to
follow Hood into Middle Tennessee. Wheeler and his cavalry returned to
below Atlanta, where we struck Sherman’s forces moving in the direction
of Macon, Georgia, by way of Augusta to Savannah. We then had daily
engagements with Kilpatrick’s cavalry, often driving them into their
infantry. Sherman used his cavalry to forage for the army, depending
altogether on the country for his commissary. To enter into detail of
the many engagements had on this trip would occupy too much time and
space. Our service was largely, as stated, to keep his cavalry from
foraging, burning and destroying the country. In connection with this I
would mention an incident at Macon:
I was at a blacksmith’s shop with a comrade by the name of Freeman, who
was about seven years my senior in age. While waiting to get our horses
shod we heard artillery, supported by small arms, open at our works,
about a mile across the river. We immediately mounted our horses and
dashed over there and just as we got in sight of the roadway through the
breastworks we witnessed a lone trooper of Kilpatrick’s cavalry coming
up the road through the works, having his horse shot just as he reached
inside. His horse fell on his leg, from which position he was trying to
extricate himself and was about to be shot by an excited militia of
young and old men, who had never been under fire before, when Jim put
spurs to his horse and with his pistol raised, dashed up to where this
man lay under his horse, and drove off the excited militia, I, of
course, following him. He called up a lieutenant, asked his name,
company and regiment; told him to take charge of that prisoner and see
that he was well treated, that he would hold him personally responsible
for his safety, and immediately wheeled his horse, I following him, and
returned to town without giving the lieutenant a chance to ask
questions. On our return I asked Jim Freeman his reasons for doing as he
did, risking his own life, by being shot by the excited militia, in
order to save this Federal. He answered, “He is a brother Mason.” I
asked him if he ever met him before. He said, “No, but I saw him give
the grand hailing sign of distress, which obligates a Mason to save the
life of a brother, at the risk of his own.” Here was a beautiful
illustration of the work of Masonry, and I told Jim Freeman the first
opportunity I had of joining the Masons, if I lived through the war, I
intended to be one, which resolution I carried out, joining the Masons
at Rusk, Texas.
General Kilpatrick with about four thousand picked cavalry, armed with
Spencer repeating rifles, which they were expert in handling, was
detailed by General Sherman, after leaving Jonesboro, to forage and
destroy property, under pretext of burning gin houses. They also burned
a great many fine houses, the homes of rich people, on their line of
march, and got their operations down to a system. He would have his
engineers select a strong position along the line of march, fortify it
with rails and logs and place about one thousand men in such works. His
engineers then would advance some two or three miles and direct another
line of fortifications in a similar manner; the balance of his command
would scatter out on both flanks inside of these lines, collect
provisions and forage, burn gin houses and homes, the latter of which,
of course, were plundered before being consigned to the flames. In this
manner he continued his operations to very near the coast.