"General, we have no flag of truce in our command."
Then said I, "Get your handkerchief, put it on a stick, and go
forward."
"I have no handkerchief, General,"
"Then borrow one and go forward with it."
He tried, and reported to me that there was no handkerchief in my
staff.
"Then, Colonel, use your shirt."
"You see, General, that we all have on flannel shirts."
At last, I believe, we found a man who had a white shirt. He gave it
to us, and I tore off the back and tail, and, tying this to a stick,
Colonel Peyton went out toward the enemy's lines. I instructed him
simply to say to General Sheridan that General Lee had written to me
that a flag of truce had been sent from his and Grant's headquarters,
and that he could act as he thought best on this information. In a few
moments he came back with some one representing General Sheridan. This
officer said:
"General Sheridan requested me to present his compliments to you, and
to demand the unconditional surrender of your army."
"Major, you will please return my compliments to General Sheridan, and
say that I will not surrender."
"But, General, he will annihilate you."
"I am perfectly well aware of my situation. I simply gave General
Sheridan some information on which he may or may not desire to act."
He went back to his lines, and in a short time General Sheridan came
forward on an immense horse, and attended by a very large staff. Just
here an incident occurred that came near having a serious ending. As
General Sheridan was approaching I noticed one of my sharpshooters
drawing his rifle down upon him. I at once called to him: "Put down
your gun, sir; this is a flag of truce." But he simply settled it to
his shoulder and was drawing a bead on Sheridan, when I leaned forward
and jerked his gun. He struggled with me, but I finally raised it. I
then loosed it, and he started to aim again. I caught it again, when
he turned his stern, white face, all broken with grief and streaming
with tears, up to me, and said: "Well, General, then let him keep on
his own side."
The fighting had continued up to this point. Indeed, after the flag of
truce, a regiment of my men, who had been fighting their way through
toward where we were, and who did not know of a flag of truce, fired
into some of Sheridan's cavalry. This was speedily stopped, however. I
showed General Sheridan General Lee's note, and he determined to await
events. He dismounted, and I did the same. Then, for the first time,
the men seemed to understand what it all meant, and then the poor
fellows broke down. The men cried like children. Worn, starved and
bleeding as they were, they would rather have died than have
surrendered. At one word from me they would have hurled themselves on
the enemy, and have cut their way through or have fallen to a man with
their guns in their hands. But I could not permit it. The great drama
had been played to its end. But men are seldom permitted to look upon
such a scene as the one presented here. That these men should have
wept at surrendering so unequal a fight, at being taken out of this
constant carnage and storm, at being sent back to their families; that
they should have wept at having their starved and wasted forms lifted
out of the jaws of death and placed once more before their
hearthstones, was an exhibition of fortitude and patriotism that might
set an example for all time.