THE SURRENDER OF VICKSBURG
Moving Southward—I Lose My Horse—Meet Old Huntsville Friends—A New
Horse—In Mississippi—“Sneeze Weed”—Messenger’s Ferry—Surrender of
Vicksburg—Army Retires—Fighting at Jackson—After Sherman’s Men—A
Sick Horse—Black Prince—“Tax in Kind”—Ross’ Brigade—Two Desertions.
I NOW disbanded my important command on Rutherford Creek, and telling
my men that every fellow must take care of himself, I joined the
movement towards Mississippi. Leaving in the afternoon, we camped
on the north bank of Duck River opposite Columbia. That night while
walking into a deep gully I sprained an ankle very badly. Next morning
my foot and ankle were so swollen I could not wear my boot, so I
exchanged it for an old rusty brogan shoe found in an ambulance, and
shipped all my luggage in the ambulance. I made my way to the pasture
eight miles below, mounted my horse and joined the command.
Before reaching camp that night my horse was taken with a peculiar
lameness in one of his hind legs. Next morning soon after starting
he became lame again, and grew rapidly worse, so much so that I fell
behind, being unable to keep up. Soon I had to dismount and lead him,
driving him and urging him along in every possible way, spending the
day in that manner, and walking most of the time. In the afternoon
I saw that contingent called stragglers. One man rode up and said to
me, “Hello, Barron! you are gone up for a horse. You’ll have to have
another. Have you got any money?” “Not much,” I replied. Pulling out a
one hundred dollar bill, he said: “Here, take this; it will do you some
good.” During the afternoon another, and after a while still another
passed me, saying and doing precisely the same thing. Crossing Elk
River just before dark, I stopped to spend the night at the first house
on the road. The next morning my horse was dead. I had expected to
trade him, but now I was completely afoot, encumbered with my rigging,
fifteen miles behind the command, which had gone on the Athens, Ala.,
road.
After visiting the lot I went back to breakfast, feeling that I was a
good many miles from home, but not particularly daunted. I had all the
time believed that a soldier who volunteered in the Confederate army
in good faith and was honestly doing his duty would come out of all
kinds of difficulties in good shape. After breakfast I watched the road
until noon. At last a man of our brigade came along leading a horse,
and I inquired to whom he belonged. “One of the boys that was sent to
the hospital.” I then explained to him my situation. “All right,” said
he, “you take this pony, find you a horse, and leave the pony with
the wagon train when you come to it.” “The pony” was a shabby little
long-haired mustang with one hip bone knocked down, but I was mounted
for the time.
It was now Saturday afternoon. I was only thirty miles from Huntsville
and might find a horse there, so it occurred to me, but I had no
desire to go there at this time. In the condition circumstances had
placed me, I only wished to procure a horse suitable for my necessities
and follow my command. I mounted the mustang and took the Huntsville
road, inquiring for horses along the way. I stayed all night at Madison
Cross roads, and was not recognized by the man at whose house I spent
the night, although I had been acquainted with him for several years. I
went out next morning, Sunday as it was, and examined and priced one or
two horses in the neighborhood, but found I could not pay for one even
if I had fancied him, which I did not. So I continued my course towards
Huntsville, jogging along very slowly on my borrowed horse, as the
weather was quite warm. When within two or three miles of town I left
the Pulaski road and turned in through some byways to the residence of
Mr. Tate Lowry, a friend of mine who lived near the Meridianville pike,
a mile or two out of town. I rode up to his place about noon, just as
he had returned from church. He extended me a very cordial welcome to
his house, which was only occupied by himself, his good old mother,
and little boy. We soon had a good dinner. Out in the office I enjoyed
a short sleep, a bath, and began dressing myself, Mr. Lowry coming in
and placing his entire wardrobe at my service. I was soon inside of a
nice white shirt and had a pair of brand new low-quartered calfskin
shoes on my feet. He then brought me a black broadcloth frock coat, but
there I drew the line. Having a neat gray flannel overshirt, I donned
that, buckled on my belt and felt somewhat genteel. As there were to
be religious services at the Cumberland church in the afternoon, we
agreed to go into town. We walked in, however, as I had no disposition
to show the mustang to my friends in town, and when we arrived at the
church we found the congregation assembled and services in progress. I
went quietly in and seated myself well back in the church, and when the
services ended everybody, male and female, came up to shake hands, all
glad to see me, among them my home folks, Mrs. Powers (“Aunt Tullie”),
and Miss Aggie Scott, her niece. I accompanied them home, and met Mr.
W. H. Powers, with whom I had lived and worked for several years,
and who was my best friend. I found it a delightful experience to be
here after an absence of more than three and half years. Of course I
explained to them why I was in Huntsville and how I became lame. On
Monday morning Mr. Powers called me in the parlor alone, and said to
me, “Do you need any money?” “That depends,” I said, “on the amount a
horse is going to cost me.” “Well,” he said, “if you need any, let me
know, and at any time that you need any money, and can communicate with
me, you can get all the Confederate money you need.” During the day our
L. H. Reed came in from the command, bringing me a leave of absence to
answer my purpose while away from the command.
Here I met my friend (Rev. Lieutenant-Colonel W. D. Chadick), who said
to me upon learning my purpose in this neighborhood: “I have a good
horse I bought very cheap, to give my old horse time to recover from a
wound. He is about well now, and as I cannot keep two horses you can
have him for what he cost me.” “How much was that?” “Three hundred
dollars.” “All right,” said I, “the three one hundred dollar bills
are yours, and the horse is mine.” This animal was a splendid sorrel,
rather above medium size, about seven years old, sound as a dollar, and
a horse of a good gaits. When I had gone forty miles from Huntsville
one thousand dollars of the same currency would not have bought him. On
Tuesday I had him well shod, mounting him the next morning, and while
I was sorely tempted to remain longer, I started for Mississippi. I
really had a very bad ankle, and could have called on an army surgeon
and procured an extension of my leave and spent a few days more in this
delightful way, but hoping to be well enough to perform the duties that
came to my lot by the time I reached the command, I pulled myself away.
I went out and got the pony, left the borrowed articles of clothing,
and crossing Tennessee River at Brown’s Ferry, I laid in corn enough
before I left the valley to carry me across the mountains where
forage was scarce. I strapped it on the pony and made good time to
Columbus, Miss. Here I was detained several hours by Captain Rice, the
post commander, much against my will. He claimed that he was ordered
by General Jackson, in case he found an officer in the rear of the
command, to detain him until he gathered up a lot of stragglers, who
were to be placed in charge of the officer, to be brought up to the
command. After worrying me several hours, he turned me over a squad of
men, and I started out with them. As soon as I crossed the Tombigbee
River I turned them all loose, and told them I hoped they would go to
their commands; as for me, I was going to mine, and I was not going to
allow a squad of men to detain me for an instant.
I passed through Canton about dark one evening, and learning what road
the command was probably on, having left my pony as per instructions,
I rode into our camp just at midnight. The next morning we moved to
Mechanicsburg, loaded, capped, and formed fours, expecting to meet
the enemy, which, however, did not prove to be the case. I therefore
was able to be at my post by the time the first prospect of a fight
occurred.
On my way down one day, I passed where the command had camped on a
small creek, and noticing several dead mules I inquired into the cause,
and was told they were killed from eating “Sneeze weed,” a poisonous
plant that grows in middle and southern Mississippi. I learned to
identify it, and as we had several horses killed by it afterwards, I
was very careful when we camped, to pull up every sprig of it within
reach of my horse.
On the long march from Spring Hill, Tenn., to Canton, Miss., Company C
had the misfortune to lose four men—Dunn, Putnum, and Scott deserted,
and McCain was mysteriously missing, and never heard of by us again.
* * * * *
General U. S. Grant had swung round with a large army through Jackson,
Miss., fought a battle with General Pemberton at Raymond and another at
Baker’s Creek, Champion Hill, where General Pemberton was driven back,
having General Loring’s division and twenty pieces of his artillery
cut off. Pemberton was compelled to fall back across Big Black River
at Edward’s Depot into Vicksburg with the remainder of his army, and
General Grant had thrown his army completely around Vicksburg on the
land side, and that city was besieged. We were sent down here to hover
around the besieging army, to see that they “‘have deyselves, and keep
off our grass.” The large gunboats in the river, above and below, with
their heavy ordnance were bombarding the city. These huge guns could
be heard for many miles away, from early morning until night. When I
first heard them I inquired the distance to Vicksburg, and was told it
was a hundred miles. During the siege we had active service, driving
in foraging parties, picketing, scouting, and occasionally skirmishing
with the enemy.
About the first of July we drove the enemy’s pickets from Messenger’s
Ferry, on Big Black River, and held that crossing until the 5th.
Vicksburg was surrendered on the 4th, and on the evening of the 5th
our pickets were driven from the ferry by a large force under General
Sherman, who began crossing the river and moving east. General Joseph
E. Johnston was in command of our army outside of Vicksburg, and at the
time the city was surrendered he was down on Big Black, with his forces
and a train loaded with pontoons—everything indicating his intention
to attempt a cut through the enemy’s line to relieve General Pemberton.
As soon as the surrender occurred General Johnston began falling back
towards Jackson, and we fought the advancing enemy several days while
he was making this retrogressive movement. We fought them daily, from
early in the morning until late in the afternoon, holding them in
check, though some days they advanced several miles and others only
two or three, owing to the nature of the ground and the more or less
favorable position afforded us. This detention gave General Johnston
time to move his trains and infantry back at leisure and to get his
army in position in front of Jackson. Finally falling back to Jackson,
we passed through our infantry lines in front of the city and took our
position on the extreme right wing of our army, beyond the northern
suburbs of the city. Jackson, it may be well to state, is located on
the west bank of Pearl River. General Sherman’s right wing rested on
Pearl River south of the city, and his lines extended in a semicircle
around the west of the city. Here we fought more or less for about
a week, with some pretty severe engagements, directly in front of
the city. In passing through the northern portion of the city to the
position assigned to us we passed the State Lunatic Asylum. After we
formed a line and everything was quiet, there being no enemy in our
front, Joe Guthery, of Company B, sauntered out and reconnoitered a
little and upon his return he approached Captain Jesse Wynne and said:
“Captain, you ought to see General Johnston’s fortifications down by
the asylum. He’s got a great big swiege gun planted there that demands
the whole country around.”
One afternoon our works were assaulted by a brigade of General Lauman’s
division, who were almost annihilated. For this move he was promptly
superseded, as it was claimed he acted without orders. After some heavy
fighting in front of the city I chanced to pass our field hospital
where the surgeons were at work, and just behind the hospital I looked
into an old barrel about the size of a potato barrel and discovered it
was nearly full of stumps of arms and legs, bloody and maimed, just as
they had fallen under the knife and saw. This to me was so ghastly a
sight that I never remember it without a shudder.
As we had heretofore been dismounting to fight, I had not had an
opportunity of trying my new horse under fire until now. We had a
long line of skirmishers in extension of our line to the right in
front of us and three or four hundred yards from a line of the enemy’s
skirmishers. They were in the brush not exposed to view, so a desultory
fire was kept up all along the line. I was sent up the line to deliver
some orders to our men, and as I had to ride up the entire line and
back, the enemy’s skirmishers soon began firing at me, and kept it up
until I made the round trip, the minie balls constantly clipping the
bushes very near me and my horse. This completely demoralized him, and
he would jump as high and as far as he possibly could every time he
heard them. Some horses seem to love a battle, while others are almost
unmanageable under fire. The first horse I rode in the army was lazy
and had to be spurred along ordinarily, but when we were going into
a battle and the firing began he would champ the bits, pull on the
bridle, and want to move up.
After some four days in front we were sent to the rear of Sherman’s
army, where we captured a few wagons and ambulances and destroyed some
cotton, and upon returning encountered the enemy’s cavalry at Canton.
While we were on this enterprise General Johnston had retired from
Jackson and fallen back to Brandon, and General Sherman, after a few
days, returned to Vicksburg. Our brigade now moved out into Rankin
County for a rest. Here orders were issued for thirty-day furloughs to
one officer and three men of the company. As Lieutenant Hood was away
on sick leave, I proposed to Lieutenant Carr that we would concede
Captain Germany the first leave. No, he would not do that; he was as
much entitled to it as Captain Germany. “All right,” said I; “then
we’ll draw for it, and I will be sure to get it.” The drawing turned
out as I had prophesied, and I presented the furlough to Captain
Germany. The furloughs those days had a clause, written in red ink,
“provided he shall not enter the enemy’s lines,” and that meant that in
our case our men should not go to Texas.
In this “Siege of Jackson,” as General Sherman called it (July 10-16,
1863), the enemy’s reported losses in killed, wounded and missing
numbered 1122. I am unable to give our losses, but in the assaults they
made we lost very few men. General Sherman had three army corps on this
expedition.
Our rest near Pelahatchie Depot was of short duration, as we were
soon ordered back to guard the country near Vicksburg on the Big
Black and Yazoo Rivers, with headquarters at Bolton Station. During
Sherman’s occupation of Jackson he had destroyed miles of railroad
track, bridges, and depots, and had also destroyed rolling stock,
including passenger cars, flat cars, and locomotives. Now in August a
force of their cavalry came out from Memphis and undertook to steal
all the rolling stock on the Mississippi Central Railroad. They came
down about as far as Vaughan’s Station and gathered up the rolling
stock, including a number of first-class locomotives, intending to
run them into Memphis or Grand Junction. We were sent after them and
had a lively race. As they were about twenty-four hours ahead of us
they would have succeeded, doubtless, had not some one burned a bridge
across a small creek opposite Kosciusko. As may be imagined, we gave
them no time to repair the bridge. We moved about a hundred miles in
two days, with no feed for men or horses except green corn from the
fields.
Reaching Durant very late at night in a drenching rain we were turned
loose to hunt shelter in the dark as best we could, and we had a great
time getting into vacant houses, under sheds, awnings, in stables or
any available place that we might save our ammunition. At Old Shongolo,
near Vaiden, the good ladies had prepared a splendid picnic dinner for
us, but as we could not stop to partake of it they lined up on each
side of the column as we passed, with waiters loaded with chicken,
ham, biscuit, cake, pies, and other tempting viands and the men helped
themselves as they passed, without halting.
One evening we stopped just before night to feed, for the horses were
hot and tired, and our men hungry and in need of sleep. The horses were
hastily attended to, that we might get some sleep, as we were to remain
here until midnight, then resume the march. At starting time I found
my horse foundered. Groping my way through the darkness to General
Whitfield’s headquarters, I told him I could not go on, for my horse
was foundered. “Old Bob’s in the same fix,” he said. “Cross Big Black
River as soon as you can, and go back to the wagon train, and tell that
fellow that has got old Bob to take good care of him.”
As the command moved off I started in the opposite direction. I had
only gone a short distance when I came up with Lieutenant Barkley of
the Legion, in the same sad condition. After daylight we stopped to
breakfast at a house on the road, then crossed the Big Black, and, as
our horses grew worse, we made a short day’s travel and spent the night
with Mr. Fullylove, a generous old gentleman. Next morning the horses
traveled still worse. About 10 A. M. we came to the residence of Hon.
Mr. Blunt, of Attalah County, and decided that, with the permission of
the family, we would remain here until morning. Consulting Mrs. Blunt,
she said: “Mr. Blunt is not at home. The only persons with me are my
daughter and a young lady visiting us; but if I knew you were gentlemen
I would not turn you off.” We told her we were Texans, and claimed
to be gentlemen—and we remained there until the next morning. After
caring for our horses we were invited into the parlor or sitting-room
and introduced to the young ladies. The visitor was Miss Hattie Savage,
who lived only a few miles away. Soon the usual interrogatory was
propounded. “Are you gentlemen married?” Barclay answered: “Yes, I am
married. I have a wife and baby at home,” and exhibited the little
one’s picture. I told them I was not so fortunate as to be married.
Soon we had a good dinner and spent quite a pleasant day. The next
morning, with many thanks for the generous hospitality we had enjoyed,
we said good-by to the three ladies.
I found that my horse’s condition grew constantly worse, so that now
he could scarcely get along at all. After traveling about three miles
we came to the house of Mr. Leftwich Ayres, who proved to be a very
excellent man. Seeing the condition of our horses, he invited us to
remain with him until morning, which we did. At this time and ever
afterward I received only kind and generous treatment from all the
members of this family, which consisted of Mr. Ayres, his wife and her
grown daughter, Miss Joe Andrews. A Mr. Richburg owned and operated
a tanyard and boot shop near the Ayres place. I visited his shop and
left my measure for a pair of boots, and found Mr. Richburg to be a
most excellent man. He made me several pairs of boots afterwards. Next
morning Mr. Ayres said to me: “Your horse cannot travel. Old Arkansaw
is the only horse I have; take him and ride him, and I will take care
of your horse until he is well.” I accepted the proposition, and
Barclay and myself returned to our commands.
General Whitfield followed the Federals to Duck Hill, near Grenada,
without overtaking them, and returned to Canton, and to Big Black and
Yazoo Rivers.
When I supposed from the lapse of time that my horse had recovered, I
obtained permission and went after him. Reaching Mr. Ayres’ home about
ten o’clock one morning, he met me at the gate and told me that my
horse was about well, that he had just turned him out for the first
time to graze. I immediately felt uneasy, and being anxious to see
him we walked around his inclosure and soon found him; but as soon as
I came near him I saw the effects of the deadly sneeze weed, and in
spite of all we could do for him in a few hours he was dead. Mr. Ayres
was very much grieved and said, “I would not have had your horse die
at my house under the circumstances for a thousand dollars. There’s
old Arkansaw; take him and make the best you can of him—ride him,
trade him off, or anything.” I therefore returned to the command on Old
Arkansaw, a pretty good old one-eyed horse.
It is not possible now to remember all the movements made by us during
the next two or three months, the number of foraging parties we drove
back or the number of skirmishes with the enemy. As I have said I
returned to the command mounted on Old Arkansaw, but did not keep him
long, as I traded him for a pony, and traded the pony for a mule, a
splendid young mule, good under the saddle, but not the kind of a mount
I desired. Awaiting for a favorable time, I obtained leave to go to
Huntsville, where I could obtain money to buy another horse. I soon
made the distance over the long road at the rate of forty miles per
day on my mule. Passing through Tuscaloosa one morning, after a travel
of thirty-two miles, I put up with Mr. Moses McMath, father-in-law of
General Joseph L. Hogg. Here I found General L. P. Walker, our first
Secretary of War, who had started to Huntsville. We traveled together
as far as Blountsville, he relating to me many interesting facts about
the early days of the Confederate army, and here we learned that a
division of Federal cavalry was then in Madison County.
At Warrenton, in Marshall County, I met Hop Beard, son of Arthur Beard,
who had lost one of his hands in Forrest’s cavalry, and had a horse
which he was now willing to sell. From Warrenton I went to Lewis’ Ferry
on Tennessee River, fifteen miles below Huntsville. Here I found my
half-brother, J. J. Ashworth. Crossing the river at this place I went
up on the Triana road as far as William Matkin’s, about seven miles
from Huntsville. Here I found Miss Aggie Scott, of the household of my
friend, W. H. Powers, and was advised that it was unsafe to go to town.
I therefore sent a message to Mr. Powers by Dr. Leftwich, who lived in
the neighborhood, and he brought me seven hundred dollars. With this
I returned to Warrenton and purchased a splendid black horse of Mr.
Beard, really the best horse for the service that I had owned. I called
him Black Prince. With the horse and mule I returned to Mississippi. I
had met several Huntsville people at Warrenton, among them my friend
Tate Lowry. He insisted that when I got back to Noxubee County,
Mississippi, that I stop and rest at his plantation. I reached there
about ten o’clock one rainy day, and remained there until next morning.
I found his overseer a clever, agreeable man, and the plantation a
very valuable property, and was shown the fine stock and everything
of interest on the place. Noticing a long row of very high rail pens
filled with corn, I remarked on the fine crop of corn he had made.
“Oh,” said he, “that is only the tax in kind where I throw every tenth
load for the Government.” And that was really only one-tenth of his
crop! Our government claimed one-tenth of all produce, which was called
“tax in kind.”
As I passed through Macon I was offered five hundred dollars for my
mule, but I had determined to carry it back and give it to Mr. Ayres
in place of Old Arkansaw. I rode up to Mr. Ayres’ house about three
o’clock in the afternoon, presented him with the mule, and remained
there until morning. While there Mrs. Ayres gave me enough of the
prettiest gray jeans I ever saw, spun and woven by her own hands, to
make a suit of clothes. I sent to Mobile and paid eighty-five dollars
for trimming, such as buttons, gold lace, etc., and had a tailor make
me a uniform of which I justly felt proud.
In September, perhaps it was, General Whitfield, on account of failing
health, was transferred to the trans-Mississippi department, and the
Rev. R. W. Thompson, the Legion’s brave chaplain, also left us and
recrossed the Mississippi. The brigade was commanded alternately by
Colonel H. P. Mabry, of the Third Texas, and Colonel D. W. Jones, of
the Ninth, until Colonel L. S. Ross, of the Sixth Texas, was appointed
brigadier-general and took permanent command of us, and the brigade was
ever after known as Ross’ Brigade. Colonel Mabry was given command of a
Mississippi brigade and sent down on the river below Vicksburg.
Early in December we attempted to capture a foraging party that came
out from Vicksburg. Starting early in the night, Colonel Jones was sent
with the Ninth Texas around to intercept them by coming into the road
they were on near the outside breastworks. The command moved slowly
until morning, when coming near the enemy we gave chase, galloping ten
miles close at their heels. When they passed the point Colonel Jones
was trying to reach he was in sight. We ran them through the outer
breastworks and heard their drums beat the long roll. When we turned
about to retire two of our men, Milligan and Roberts, fell back and
entered the enemy’s breastworks and surrendered.