USA > Alabama > History of the First Regiment, Alabama Volunteer Infantry, C.S.A. > Part 10
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Clements and myself arrived within about 30 miles of this town on Saturday evening, and decided to spend the Sabbath in this community. We were entertained by a pleasant fam- ily, and the old man and myself went to church. I had to an- swer a thousand questions from the curious crowd that gath- ered around me. One man who had just heard of his son's being wounded at Jackson, said that he was going to the depot for him next morning, and proposed that if any of the crowd would furnish a horse or mule, he could fix a way for Clements and myself to ride. The arrangement being made, Clements, the old man, the negro boy and myself set out next morning for the railroad. On the route we stopped at an old house in an old field to eat figs. I never before or since have seen such quantities and such fine ones. As I rode around a very large bush I discovered some one on the opposite side with a bucket. He caught sight of my uniform and broke for the woods. It struck me in a moment that he was a deserter, and to have some fun, I took after him, occasionally firing my pis- tol over his head. After half a mile's run he dodged me in the woods. After this we proceeded on our journey until within seven miles of Waynesboro. Here we were caught in a thun- der storm, and sought shelter in a little house by the roadside. Riding rapidly up we threw our bridle reins over the corners of fences, and dashed into the house, frightening the old lady very much. After a great deal of persuasion she finally con- sented for us to sleep in the piazza. After the rain, we put our horses in the lot, but saw there was nothing with which to feed them except some green corn in the field. A feed of this for our horses we could neither beg nor buy of the old lady. I then told her that we would have to take it-that our stock must be fed. At this she became very wrathy and vowed vengeance if we cut her corn. I cut down the corn and the negro boy and myself fed the horses. The old lady blamed me with it all. She offered Clements and the old man a bed, but refused me even a quilt with which to make a pallet on the floor. However. I got the saddle blankets, spread them on the floor, and lay down. As the house had only one room the old lady went into the kitchen when we got ready to retire. Early next morning we resumed our journey, reaching Waynesboro two hours before train time. We went to the hotel and or- dered breakfast. The landlord said it would be ready in a few
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minutes. We had taken our seats in the gallery when a man called the landlord to the gate.and had a long conversation. On his return I enquired how long till breakfast. He replied "presently," adding that it was half an hour before train time. We waited nearly an hour, talked about the war, etc. I found his name to be Lampley, formerly of Louisville, Barbour county, Ala. I knew his family and he knew my father well. As soon as he found out this he got up and said. "Now, I am satisfied you gentlemen are all right; walk out to break- fast" He then stated that he had purposely kept breakfast waiting until the citizens in the neighborhood could get to- gether and take us-that the man who called him out was called in at the house seven miles back where we had spent the night, and the negro boy with us here said that we were Yankee spies. Lampley told us not to be surprised if we saw a party riding up to take us. We finished breakfast, and soon after about twenty men with shotguns and about fifty dogs came riding up to the hotel gate. Lampley met them, told them it was a false alarm, and to get down and laugh it off. When they found we had no papers, they said they would have swung us to the first limb, but for the timely correction of the mistake. The thought of being hanged by our own men within our own lines was most horrible. So Clements and I got some cowhides, took satisfaction out of the negro on the horse block, and then went into the office and wrote each a leave of absence signed by our commanding general. The train soon arrived and we left for home, where we remained until the regiment was reorganized the following October at Cahaba, Ala., in parole camps.
TRIP HOME FROM THE TENNESSEE RIVER.
On our return from Hood's fateful campaign in Tennessee the army recrossed the Tennessee river during the early days of January, 1865, at Bainbridge, a few miles above Florence, Ala., and those of us who had no shoes, or shoes with no soles, were ordered down the M. & C. R. R. on foot to Corinth, Miss. After a few days' detention at Corinth, during very hard weather and in miserable quarters, we were sent by rail to Lau- derdale Springs, Miss., then a Confederate hospital. On our arrival we found several hundred of our barefoot, sick and wounded here. Each was working energetically for a fur-
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lough, or transfer to hospitals nearer home, where he could get shoes, clothing, etc., and possibly a glimpse of the old home even if only for a few days, but few except the wounded were meeting with success. The latter were readily furloughed or transferred to any point they named, often without careful med- ical examination. About the second morning after our arrival, Ben Baker, of my company, came up to me when something like the following colloquy ensued, he asking the first question : "How would you like to have a thirty days' furlough 'stuck' to you this morning?" "Have you one?" "Just got it a few minutes ago." "How did this happen?" "Why. when I reached this place, I reported as a wounded soldier, un- derwent my examination this morning as such, with the happy result, as you see, of a thirty-day furlough, one member of the board contending strongly for a sixty-day furlough."
Baker had two large risings or boils on the calf of one of his legs, which at this time were beginning to heal, but looked in- flamed, and had left two cavities half an inch deep and resem- bling very much a wound made by a minie ball that had struck and rebounded. With these he had fooled the medical board.
As for myself, I wanted a transfer to Montgomery hospital, having no hope of a furlough, as I had no "wounds," as Baker had, upon which to base my application; and as the medical board declared its positive orders were to approve no furlough except to wounded, I had a rather hopeless case. A day or two later I learned that Dr. Ford, cur surgeon at Barrancas in '61, was now medical director of this department with head- quarters at Macon, Miss., about forty miles north of Lauder- dale. I made no formal application for a furlough, but wrote him a personal letter, stating who I was, the condition of my feet, to what regiment I belonged, mentioning the fact that I was with the regiment at Barrancas in 1861, and asked for a transfer to Montgomery, where I might obtain shoes, clothing, etc., from home, and of which I was in great need. Knowing how rigidly military men adhere to military forms, and this whole procedure of mine being contrary thereto, I had little hope of success and little reason to expect it. But to my delight the return mail brought my transfer. From the short time, the surgeon must have laid aside, for a few minutes, every other business matter to attend to my wants. To this day it brings me the greatest pleasure to recall this incident. I wrote him (158)
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trying to express my gratitude, but felt my inadequacy for the task. Though I never knew him personally, except at sight, I have wished many a time since the war that I could meet him and clasp his hand.
The next day I left for Meridian, where I changed cars for Montgomery. The railroad from this place to Demopolis was at this time in a deplorable condition, many miles of track being sunk out of sight in mud. The outgoing train to Demopolis, composed of freight boxes, was so crowded with soldiers, that, with others, 1 had to take a berth on top. At many places along the way the cars careened to such a degree in going through cuts that the tops would nearly strike the walls of the cuts. Moreover, it was a bitter cold night.
On reaching Demopolis, I went to the Soldiers' Home for lodging, and to my surprise found here Mike Brogan, the only Irishman that ever belonged to our company. He had some position in the home, having been disabled by a wound in the foot on the morning of May 27, 1863, at Port Hudson, La., since which time the company had lost sight of him and he of the company. As soon as he recognized me his Irish instinct gave vent to bountiful expressions of joy, shouting and throw- ing his arms around my waist. He carried me to a private room of the home and sat before me the best meal the home could furnish, but kept me awake nearly all night with questions about the "ups and downs" of the company, and the fate of dif- ferent comrades since we had left him in the hospital at Port Hudson in July, 1863. After I had told him of our hard ser- vice since then, the many battles in which we had been engaged, the many comrades that had fallen in battle or by the hand of disease, his joy melted away into profound sadness, there was a long silence and he continued : "Ed, you know I always blamed you for this wound in my foot, and you don't know how deeply grieved towards you I felt for a long time, feeling that you were indirectly, at least, the cause of the misfortune to me, and therefore the author of the greatest bodily injury ever done me ; but instead of being a calamity, it has been a blessing in disguise, for if I had not been wounded the chances are that I should not to-day be living."
Brogan was a young man with ideal Irish characteristics and temperament, and intensely loyal to the South. The company liked him.
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The next morning I went by rail to Selma, passing through the beautiful and fertile canebrake section. For miles and miles along the road were continuous rail pens, each about ten feet square and twelve or fifteen feet high, full of corn paid by the farmers as a part of their tribute for the support of the Confederate Government ; and as we looked at this vast amount of corn, we could not understand how there could be such . stinted rations even of cornbread to the Confederate soldier, when it locked to me that here alone was enough corn to feed all the men and horses of the Confederate army for months. But the explanation is that our transportation facilities were wholly inadequate. Even "during those closing days of the Confederacy" no destroying vandal hordes had set foot upon and blighted this fair section. To me just returned from deso- late Tennessee the contrast was most striking, and as I locked cut across the broad, fertile plantations bounded in many places only by the horizon, upon princely homes with every evidence of affluence and luxury about them and saw large bodies of slaves quietly as ever pursuing their daily labor, I silently ex- claimed in my heart : "Happy, thrice happy, even yet knowing nothing of the horrors of war."
Reaching Selma I at once boarded a steamer for Montgoni- ery. arriving next morning, and at once reported at the hospital, where I found a Dr. Clark in charge. This hospital was situ- ated not more than one or two blocks west of the present new Advertiser office. I was assigned to a comfortable room. Here, as at Lauderdale, I found soldiers working for furloughs and transfers, but the surgeon here, as there, declared that he had positive orders to grant none. The next day I engaged him a while in conversation in his office, finally suggesting in as mod- est a way as I could that a furlough of one week out to my home near Percte would be appreciated. As I walked out of his office he told me to call early next morning. Having be- fore me the pleasing prospects of a furlough next day, I carried a light heart to my room, and possibly fell asleep that night in blissful dreams of home and friends. It was late next morn- ing when I awoke. Arranging my Confederate toilet as quick as I could, I hastened down to the surgeon's office and haply found him alone. He at once began to write out my furlough, but had not half finished when a big crowd of soldiers came rushing up, each clamoring for a furlough. At this the sur-
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gecn became indignant, and brushing aside, along with other stationery, the sheet on which he was writing my furlough, he said with some warmth: "I told you my orders were to give no furloughs, and I shall give none. Go back to your rooms," at the same time casting a glance at me that had the full signif- cance of "and you get out of my office." I promptly and defer . entially obeyed the silent order, carrying away a heart as heavy as it had been light, and greatly vexed with the crowd who, by their precipitancy, had caused me to lose my furlough. But the real cause of my misfortune was the fact of my having over- slept myself, and not till now did I fully understand the full import of the doctor's request "to come early"-before the other soldiers got up. Two days later I found the surgeon alone in his office, got my furlough, and a day later reached home.
AT HOME ON FURLOUGH.
During the war it was the custom of the young ladies of Pe- rote to give, in the Institute, a social entertainment in honor of any young man of the Perote Guards returning home on fur- lough. On this occasion, as before, one was given in my honor. At this gathering I plainly saw that the ladies were becoming despondent of our ultimate success in the war. They tried to con- ceal it but the fact was too patent. They had not of course abated one jot or tittle of loyalty to the Confederacy. No community in the South loved the cause more than this, so much so that at the beginning of the war it went as a popular jest that if Alabama did not secede, Perote would. It was with the deep- est regret that I found such a state of affairs at home. At the time I believed that there was no substantial foundation for this despondency, and had no doubt whatever of the final triumph of Southern arms. It seems to me now that I was totally blind to plain facts before me. It was thus with nearly every volun- teer of the Confederacy, especially those of 1861. But now the women who from start to finish had been the spirit of the war, seemed to be yielding to doubts and despondency. The inci- dent made upon me a profoundly sad impression, but I took them severely to task about these doubts, for I was somewhat wrought up, and told them that if all Southern women were sharing their fears, this alarm alone would ruin our cause; and I declared with earnestness my unshaken faith in the success of
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our arms, and that their fears were without foundation. And I then had no doubt of the truth of every word I uttered.
When we look at the condition of the South at this time we wonder that anybody had hope. Our fields devastated, our cities and hornes laid in ashes, hardly a family not mourning the loss of a loved one, thousands of our citizens and comrades languishing and dying of starvation in cold Northern prisons, our lines being forced back by overwhelming numbers of Fed- erals, our own slaves armed against us, and our resources ex- hausted.
But more than any one of these causes, and more than all others combined in fact, and one of which very little account has been taken, had in our opinion the most influence in lessen- ing the war spirit of the South. For two years preceding the end of the war there had been a growing impression-unfound- ed, of course-that we could return to the Union with all our rights and property, that the war was being waged by the Fed- erals solely for the preservation of the Union. This delusion, owing its origin mainly to the activity of such well meaning Northern friends as Vallandigham of Ohio, did our cause more harm than Yankee bullets; for it encouraged the hope for an honorable peace, when none ever existed. Not until the Confed- erates laid down their arms was the fact apparent that the war, on the part of the Federal government, had been waged from sectional hate, for conquest, despoliation and robbery. There would have been no surrender when there was, if we had had the faintest conception of what that surrender involved.
Then, another cause for lessening the war spirit of the South was the unwise substitute and exemption laws of the Confeder- ate congress. These were very unjust as well as unwise. They were unjust to the poor man who owned no slaves ; equally un- just to the Confederate who was a slave-owner; and were de- moralizing because they were unjust ..
SETS OUT TO REJOIN THE ARMY.
When my week's furlough had expired, I set out to rejoin ty command, then moving eastward through Georgia. I car- ried with me a young recruit, Archie Ardis, a youth of fifteen. He was a sensible, good-natured, intelligent lad, of one of our best families, and had been placed in my care. Reaching Ma-
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con, Ga., in the afternoon of the next day, I went to military headquarters for further transportation, and was delightfully surprised to meet here Francis T. Chase and James T. Patter- son of my company. The former had been disabled by a wound in the arm during the Georgia campaign the previous sum- mer, and was now a clerk in the office of the post commandant. The latter was on the same mission as myself. That night, seated around a good fire in the tent of Mr. Chase we talked until away after midnight of the condition of the country. At last I caused a sensation by saying : "I will express an opin- ion that you have never heard me utter before, because I have never entertained it before-but I believe our cause is lost !" Patterson and Chase looked at me in astonishment. There was a silence for several seconds when I resumed: "The women of the South have been the spirit of the war, and they are losing hope." After another long silence Chase replied: "If I thought as you I would lay down my gun and go home." My sensitive nature felt in this reply the sting of a mild rebuke, and I replied with warmth: "My fight henceforth will be with lit- tle hope, but never will I lay down my gun while there is a Yan- kee vandal on Southern soil."
SKETCH OF FRANCIS T. CHASE.
I leave here the thread of my story to give a brief sketch of this remarkable private in the Confederate service-Francis T. Chase. Born and educated in Connecticut, a kinsman of Salmon P. Chase, one of the most scholarly men that ever came South to teach, with extreme modesty, he was at the breal ing out of the war a professor in Perote Institute, where, during the two years previous, he had been my preceptor. He weighed about ninety pounds, had a sallow complexion, and from every view physically you seldom meet a frailer-looking specimen of humanity. Had you seen him in the ranks of our company. Feb. 12, 1861, as we marched away from Perote to war, you would have judged him incapable of more than a month's ser- vice. Yet he was, throughout the four years' service of the company one of its most healthy and efficient members, never asking any favors, never seeking an office, doing all sorts of army drudgery; never making a complaint, twice wounded, always confident of our success, intensely loyal to the Southern
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cause. Two or three years after the war he went into business in New Orleans, and was head clerk in the freight office of the Illinois Central railroad, until he retired about a year ago on a pension from the railroad. He then took up his residence at the Nichols Soldiers' Home of that city, where he died ( 1904) only a few months ago. During all these years he has been true to the South, and a liberal contributor to soldiers' homes, mon- uments, Confederate widows and orphans. He was never mar- ried.
NARRATIVE RESUMED.
The next day "Cub" (Ardis) and myself resumed our jour- ney, reaching Milledgeville, Ga., late in the afternoon, during a down-pour of rain. For a month or more previous the rains had been excessive, and all' the streams in a swell tide. Sher- man had destroyed the bridge over the Oconee river at Mil- ledgeville, and it had not been rebuilt. For temporary purpo- ses the authorities were exerting their utmost to stretch across the river pontoon bridges, but on account of high water were having no success. From this point we wanted to reach Au- gusta, Ga., which could be done only on foot, as the railroads thither were all torn up. However, it was given out that the pontoons would be across the river in a day or two.
There being no soldiers' home here, I must seek lodging at a private residence. During the war it was the custom of Southern people to give lodging, meals and other help to Con- federate soldiers passing through their communities, and for several reasons the Confederate soldier felt that he was justly entitled to this consideration.
Going up a street I soon came to a large residence on the right, walked up to the door and rang the bell. A fine looking old lady answered. She said she had but one vacant room and was daily expecting her son, who was wounded in Virginia. But while she was standing in the door talking to me, her daughter, a beautiful brunette, of about sixteen, was standing just back of her mother, listening and looking, unobserved I think, by her mother. I bade the old lady adieu, and as I walked out across the veranda, her daughter came running af- ter us, and saying that she wished to get some flowers from the hot house for us, and requesting that we stop a few minutes at
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the gate. She soon came with a pretty little bouquet for each ; and then, womanlike, began to ask questions. In the meanwhile a gloomy twilight was thickening about us, and as we stood at the gate, it was cold, and I had not forgotten that as yet I had no shelter for the night. I started to bid her "Good even- ing," but she replied with earnestness and emphasis: "No, not right now. Wait until I run and see my mother." I suspected that she would try to get her mother to entertain us, and I pro- tested earnestly. The truth is, I had concluded that her mother was not much of a Southern woman, or she would have given me some kind of a shelter, the best she could-even out in the veranda if she could do no better-and my feelings were quite averse to any further acquaintance with her. I believed that her statement that that large house had but one vacant room was a mere excuse; and as to that wounded son in Virginia- oh well; I had serious doubts about it all. I could not, how- ever, deny the daughter's request without discourtesy to her, and this I could not afford, and so I reluctantly yielded. She bounded away in a run, leaving my companion and myself at the gate. I hoped she would bring back a negative answer, for I didn't feel inclined at all to go back. I had no fears of being left out in the cold rain that night. There were too many good people in that town. In a few seconds she re-appeared in a run, as she had gone, and her face beaming with joy, gave me notice in advance that she had been victorious, and that I was vanquished. Indeed, I felt completely vanquished, for when I wanted to stay I couldn't; and then when I didn't want to stay, I was made to do it. She gathered up one or two of our bundles, and we started back, her sunny nature evidently de- lighted. I struggled to conceal my real feelings. The old lady met us at the door, gave us a kind reception, and carried us up stairs to our room. The name of this lady was Mrs. Lit- tle (she was a widow) ; that of her daughter, Mollie. When I met the family and guests next morning at the breakfast ta- ble, I saw that I had wrongly judged Mrs. Little, for there was quite a number of guests-refugees, and I made in the pres- ence of the guests, a full confession of the injustice I had done her. All seemed to enjoy the incident, and Mrs. Little seemed to appreciate my frankness.
That night Miss Mollie gave a card party .which we enjoyed. The next night a neighbor of hers entertained at cards, and we
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were so entertained every night during the week we remained ; for we could not leave sooner on account of the pontoon bridge not having been put across the river. About the second or third day of our stay the "wounded son" from Virginia came in, but still we kept our rooms. We found this young man quite a help in our socials, young men at this time being scarce. . I often recall with great pleasure the kindness of Mrs. Little, her son, and Miss Mollie.
FORTUNE TELLING.
I now come to relate an unimportant but the most striking co-incident of my whole life. The last night of our stay a card party was given at Mrs. Little's, and it was largely attended, mostly by young girls and young men. We played the usual games until a late hour, when we changed to "telling fortunes" with cards. The lass (about 15) with whom I had mostly played, after telling or foretelling when I would marry, the color of the eyes and hair of my wife-to-be, etc., asked me if I would like to have another furlough. I replied, "Yes, run these cards and tell me how long before I shall get another." She dealt off the cards, and after consulting them declared I should get another furlough in a very short time .. I replied that I didn't believe it, because I was returning from home on a furlough ; that I was going then to "head off" Sherman in the Carolinas, and that an early furlough for me was absurd. "You have consulted the wrong cards," I said, "try that again with the cards." She did so, and at the conclusion threw up her hands and shouted : "Oh, it will be no time hardly be- fore you have another furlough." She went through all this with the most affected sincerity and gravity. "Impossible," I said. "You are a failure, I know, as a fortune-teller. Run these cards again." A third time she ran the cards in refer- ence to my getting a furlough, the last time going into ecstacies of joy, and affirming with still more earnestness it would be almost no time before I received another furlough. The next morning Ardis and myself took leave of our kind friends, and set out on foot for Augusta. We had to pass down through the business part of the city, and here I met Lieut. Alex. Frier and Sergt. Hector McLean of my company returning as a spec- ial detail to Alabama. Lieut. Frier had been sent back on a
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