USA > Alabama > History of the First Regiment, Alabama Volunteer Infantry, C.S.A. > Part 9
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Nevertheless, I soon secured my beef head and carried it to camp. As I walked up and threw down my prize before the cook-stand of the mess, a comrade lying stretched out half asleep on a rough bench lazily drolled out. "Here's yer beef head." "Yours," said I, indignantly, "not mine. I shall never again taste beef-head hash." And I have not.
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ASLEEP ON HIS POST.
The Perote battery at Port Hudson was less than one hun- dred yards from the camp of the company and in full view of the whole camp of the regiment. On one occasion I had charge of the night guard at our regimental batteries along the river. The Perote Guards had been working that day at our battery, and using a pair of skids twelve inches square, which they had left on top of the battery lying one across the other, a tempting seat to sit down and lean back. We were so near our camp that the guard occupied their tents while not on post, as did also the corporals of the guard.
Just before day the relief to our battery was sent out. It was a foggy, chilly, drowsy morning in the spring. The relief had a white blanket thrown over his shoulders. About dawn I accidentally, or providentially, walked out of my tent and looked towards our battery. To my horror the guard was sit- ting down on that lower skid and leaning back against the up- per one, evidently fast asleep. I hastened to the post. He was my friend, my class-mate in Latin and Greek, of high social position at home. More, he was a true, brave, Confederate soldier. Not for the whole world would he have purposely done this. He yielded to the temptation of this inviting seat, and sleep steathily overcame him. But what shall I do? It was a terrible dilemma. The penalty of the offense to him is death. Unless I report him, I am guilty as he. I glanced searchingly over the camp of the regiment to see if there was any witness except myself. Twice more I did the same. Few had risen from their night's rest, and were stirring around. I will wake him. If reported myself, I shall make a clean breast of the whole affair to Col. Steedman, and to Lieut .- Col Locke. They will exonerate me. All these thoughts flashed through my mind during the few seconds I had paused and was stand- ing over my sleeping comrade and friend. Then with both hands I grabbed and shook him violently. Startled, and with a cry of terror he sprang to his feet, his large gray eyes flashed videly open, and looking as wild as a maniac. He fully re- alized his situation. Without a word he went to pacing his beat. I sat down on the skid. I occasionally glanced at his face as he went back and forth on his beat, and saw plainly de- picted there the fearful agony within. During these moments 7
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he doubtless had before him visions of dungeons and being shot. I too was distressed on his account, for I loved him much. Then I arose, walked with him on his beat and said: "Give yourself no fears ; I shall not report you." What a change came over his face! And I have kept my promise to this day. I have many times related the incident since the war, yet no one save myself knows or has ever known who it was.
A year later this comrade died at home while on furlough and convalescing from a severe attack of typhoid fever, and while our regiment was at Mobile.
MIKE BROGAN WOUNDED -- AN INCIDENT OF PORT HUDSON, 1863.
Before light on the morning of May 27 ,1863, Lieut .- Col. M. B. Locke, commanding our regiment, ordered me. to take a file of men, go down our lines to an eminence about 600 vards distant to the left of our regiment, this position affording a commanding view of a clearing in Big Sandy swamp across which the enemy were expected to pass in their contemplated attack on Port Hudson that day, and as soon as they passed, to report to him. About sunrise the enemy began to advance, and were met by Confederates down in the swamp half a mile in front of our breastworks, where the fighting soon became vigor- ous and general all along our entire front. We had only a heavy skirmish line engaged with a heavy force of the enemy, and about 8 a. m. this began to retreat to our breastworks, closely followed by the enemy in force. There were, in our front, many small elevations or knolls and these the Federals quickly covered with batteries of Parrott guns, opening at once a bombardment of our position. The Federal infantry, during this time, had halted about 300 yards in our front down under cover of the woods, and were reforming their lines preparatory to an attempt to storm our breast works. By 9 a. m. it was plain to me that the enemy had reached a position between the clearing and our lines without having crossed the clearing I had been sent to watch, and that I could not longer be of service here. I so stated to my men, Mike Brogan and Joe (P. J.) Blue, and told them we must go to our regiment. In leav- ing this position I was theoretically disobeying my orders, but I felt sure Col. Locke would approve my course, and he did afterwards not only approve, but complimented me for this
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course. The enemy by this time were sweeping the old field in rear of our lines, and to reach our regiment was a dangerous undertaking. Blue and Brogan protested vehemently against it. To them it seemed both rash and contrary to my orders. There were not, in my opinion, braver men or better soldiers in the Confederate army than Blue and Brogan. Either was much braver than I, but I could not endure the thought of re- maining there idle during a great battle in which the best ser- vices of every man would be needed ; and I was firm in my de- cision to go to our regiment. Pointing to a ravine about 200 yards distant, I said: "We can make our way to that, and thence, with very slight exposure, descend the ravine to within 100 yards of our regiment." We all dashed out together into the shower of lead and reached the head of the ravine in safety. Then we went down the ravine whose walls were very abrupt and 25 or 30 feet high, to a spring about 100 yards in rear of our regiment. We were tired and hot, and after taking a good drink of water sat down to cool and rest in this delightful re- cess of dense shade. The men of our regiment had worn a path on the western wall of the ravine, going back and forth for water. While sitting here cooling and resting for the final dash of 100 yards to our regiment, the enemy had put in posi- tion a strong battery in front of Capt. Meadows' battery on the extreme right of our regiment, and opened up a furious fire of grape and shrapnel-mostly the latter -- and it so happened that the path up the bluff was on a direct line with the position of Meadows' battery, and that of the enemy; so that the shot di- rected against the former swept the path.
The enemy's battery was firing so rapidly that a volley of shrapnel crossed our path about every ten seconds, and, as it was difficult of egress from the spring any other way, it looked like we were bottled up, and that even without any intention or knowledge of the Yankees. This volley swept a space of about fifteen or twenty feet across the path, and so dense with bullets that hardly a sprig of grass was spared. The question now before us was, could we three, ascending that steep bluff in single file, pass across the destructive space during the inter- mission of volleys. I thought it doubtful, my conrades declared it would be certain death. From our position we could see our lines, and from the rattle of musketry I knew that a hard fight was on; and I was determined to reach my regiment. I
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told the boys that, if we would be ready, and make a rush up the bluff just after one volley passed, we could get beyond the range before the next volley. As I had directed we made a dash up the hill, I ahead, Joe Blue next, and Brogan bringing up the rear, each of course running as fast as he could, and slow at that on account of the steepness of the bluff. Just as I reached the top I heard the volley sweep across the path be- hind me. I instinctively turned and looked back. At the same moment Brogan uttered a cry of agony. I had looked just in time to see him falling. He was twenty feet behind me, and Blue about midway between us. No time was to be lost. Brogan was lying wounded on the edge of the volley range, and in a few seconds he would be exposed again. How seriously Brogan was wounded we did not know, but I feared mortally. With all speed Blue and I rushed to his relief, picked him up and hastily as we could hurried back down the bluff, just clear- ing the range as the next volley swept the path. We took Brogan to the spring, bathed him in cool water, giving him plenty to drink. He was suffering intensely and bleeding pro- fusely. We felt some measure of relief to find that his wound was not mortal. But his agonizing groans and shrieks were distressing. He was in a state of delirium, and raved like a mad-man, so that we could hardly do anything with him. Dur- ing these paroxysms he frequently roared out: "Ed, you are the whole cause of this; you caused me to be shot down like a beef-murdered." When I pointed out that it was our duty to get to our regiment, he would quiet down and say: "Oh, no! no, no, no! You are not to blame; you were doing your duty. I do not blame you." We spread down his blanket on the ground, made a swing by fastening both ends of his other blanket to the limb of a sapling, placed his wounded foot in the swing about two feet above the ground. This elevation of his feet gave him great relief, and he became quiet. I was de- tained by this occurrence about half an hour more. I left Bro- gan in care of Blue with directions to get him to the hospital as soon as he could, and then running the gauntlet of shrapnel a second time without harm, and also the space of about 100 yards between the ravine and my regiment, I reached my com- mand just as the first man ("Zeke" Meredith) of my company was killed, and only a few minutes before the first great assault was made on our lines.
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A PIECE OF SHELL.
During the last two or three weeks of the siege of Port Hud- son we had the Yankees so trained that when they started to make an assault on our position we would discharge a few vol- leys from our breast-works, when they would scamper back to the cover of the woods, and that would be the last of the fight- ing for that day. We were much worn down physically by in- cessant watching and fighting day and night during the preced .. ing weeks of the siege; and our officers seeing they they co ild do so with safety, allow two men daily from each company to . go back to our camp on the bank of the river for a day's rest. Under this rule a comrade and myself were spending a day at camp, where there was nothing to molest save a Yankee mortar battery out beyond our lines that was exploding a shell high above our camp about every half hour. These shells generally fell in small fragments in the camp, and to these we paid no attention ; but occasionally a bomb would burst into two or more large fragments, and the descent of these from so great a height, with rapidly increasing velocity, and resembling the sound made by the flapping of a large fowl, were always unwelcome intruders. We had taken our naps and were lying on our re- spective bunks talking when one of these large fragments started homeward. At first we gave it no attention. On, on it came, the sound becoming more and more distinct, and the fragment apparently coming down through our tent. We stopped talking and turned our eyes upwards towards the top of the tent. For several moments it seemed to be dancing along the ridge-pole of our tent. It did strike the ground in the very door of our tent, burying itself about one and a half feet in that hard ground.
On another occasion, a comrade was lying in his tent asleep with his head on his knapsack, when a minie ball from the en- emy's line half a mile away, passed through his tent cloth and knapsack. The comrade, I believe, was Sergeant Owen Dykes.
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DARING ESCAPE OF LIEUTS. E. J. M. PADGETT, OF THE PEROTE GUARDS, AND WM. F. CLEMENTS, OF THE GUARDS OF THE SUNNY SOUTH, FROM PORT HUDSON, LA., IN JULY, 1863.
In the Fall of 1876 Lieut. Padgett then, as now (1904), en- gaged in orange culture near Leesburg, Fla., made a tour of several months among his old friends in South Alabama. He was suffering from chronic chills. I was then principal of the Rutledge (Crenshaw county) High School, and Lieut. Padgett spent a week with me at my residence. At this time the war was still much talked of by surviving Confederates, and it was during one of these conversations that I was reminded of the escape of himself and Clements from Port Hudson, and asked him to state to me the particulars of that famous adventure. This he did, afterwards writing out, at my request, the whole story which I subsequently had published in the Union Springs Herald. When Port Hudson was surrendered, July 8, 1863, the men were paroled but the officers were reserved for north- ern prisons. The officers had before them the prospects of long imprisonment, untold suffering and probably death in far away northern prisons. This was to be dreaded more than death on the battlefield. Under far different conditions, indeed, did the men and officers of the First Alabama Regiment part on the bank of the Mississippi at Port Hudson-the former on parole with the pleasing anticipation of meeting loved ones again in the old Alabama homes; the latter, for northern prisons. Hor- rors of prison life it was that led so many officers of the little Port Hudson Army to take their lives in their hands and risk all to effect their escape. Several other officers of our regi- ment made good their escape through the Federal lines, but we can recall none other now (1904) save that of the lion-hearted
Richard Williams, captain of the Clayton Guards. What his personal experience was we shall probably never know, for he has left us no written record; but, whatever his perils and vicis- situdes, we feel perfectly assured of one fact-that his iron nerve was equal to every emergency. Nor did the Southern Army furnish to the Southern Cause two higher examples of courage and nerve than in the persons of Lieuts. E. J. M. Pad- gett and Wm. F. Clements.
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When I was principal of the Fort Deposit Institute (1891-2), Lieut. Clements was living and merchandising in that town, as he had been doing since the close of the war, and having been shown by me the story of Lieut. Padgett in reference to their escape from Port Hudson, he affirmed every word to be true and correct.
Lieut. Clements died in 1901 or 1902.
But to the story of Lieut. Padgett under date of September 15, 1876 :
I had been in the ditches for about fifteen days, the other officers of our company all being sick. The day of the surren- der I was relieved and went back to camp to change my cloth- ing. I had dressed and was sitting in a tent playing a game of chess with Prof. F. T. Chase when the news of our surrender reached me. I immediately went and procured some shelled corn, parched it, went to a hand-mill we had, and ground it into hominy. I then mixed with it about one-third sugar, making it much more palatable than the mule beef which, you remember, we had been subsisting on for several days. When I got my haversack of parched corn and sugar, I began to cast about for some reliable man to go with me; for I determined to make a desperate attempt to effect my escape from Port Hud- son. I met up with Lieut. Wm. F. Clements who said he was willing to join me in the undertaking. Our plan was to wait till dark, get a little boat and try to pass down through the Yankee fleet lying about three miles below us. Our hope was by rowing as near the fleet as we deemed prudent, and then scuttling our boat and letting her float down the stream that we could make our way through their line of gunboats. But when we got near enough to obtain a full view, we recognized the impossibility of this plan from the compact line of Yankee crafts strung, chain-like, across the river, thus enabling those to inspect minutely even a passing log or chunk. After a mo- ment's consultation we determined to make for the opposite, or east bank of the river. The night being a little cloudy inspired us with some hope of success. When we got within. I sup- pose, two hundred yards of the bank, we were challenged with : "Who comes dere?" I replied "friends," and immediately turned about and and told Clements to pull for life back to camps. We had gone but a little ways when the challenging
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party fired upon us, and almost instantly a long line of picket fire was opened upon us from along the shore. We escaped untouched and rowed our boat safely back to camp. We got back between midnight and day and found the encampment all astir. The Yankees had issued rations to our men, every mess had a big fire, and the hungry rebels were up cooking. Clem- ents and I filled our haversacks and started again, determined this time to escape through the main line of the enemy. We thought it a life and death case, for, you remember, Gen. But- ler at New Orleans had issued orders that all officers of the Confederate army captured should be held as hostages for any of his men who should suffer violence at our hands.
While at the front I had noticed that there were no breast- works across the ravine (for location of this ravine see map of Port Hudson, just in rear and east of the First Alabama reg- iment) between our right and the 12th Arkansas on our right, and told Clements we would make for that ravine. We struck the ravine about two hundred yards in rear of the breastworks, conjecturing that the Yankees had posted a strong picket on this line. We thought to approach their picket lines as near as possible and conceal ourselves during the next day, hoping by some good fortune to get into possession of their counter- sign. We crawled upon our hands and knees until we thought we were near enough their line, and fortunately just in front of us was a large patch of briars. With our pocket knives we cut our way in under these briars. Not long after we got still we heard heavy breathing as of some one asleep. Clements whis- pered to me that it was Capt. Williams' squad of the Clayton Guards-that he had heard in camp that night that Capt. Wil- liams would attempt to make his escape. Clements, who had been eating raw beef-tongue, and, it very salty and dry, was nearly dead for water, and proposed that he crawl up to the supposed Capt. Williams and get some water from him. As it was nearly day, I prevailed on him to wait until daylight. When it grew light we found that we had crawled up within fifteen feet of a Yankee picket station, and there we had to lie the whole day, not daring to move. You may talk about mos- quitoes in Florida. but I never had them to bite me as they did in that briar patch. I would lift my hand and rub them off, and so soon as I would take my hand down they would cover my face again. Thus we suffered torments all that day which
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seemed to be an eternity. The mosquitoes bit the Yankees, too, for as soon as night came they built small fires at every picket post. We saw the Yankee officer of the day when he posted the pickets that evening, and heard his instructions to the guard, but were not able to understand the countersign well enough for us to attenipt its use. The sergeant who relieved the guard about 9 o'clock remarked to the relief that he suspected there were rebels in the woods, and that if anything made a noise in the bush to say "hold;" count one, two, three, and fire. We thought our chance slender, but still determined to risk it. So we crawled out from the briars by the same way we went in, got midway between the picket posts, and stretched out our length flat on the ground, like a measuring worm length by length we went across the line. We wandered all night in and out of the enemy's breastworks until nearly day (having to crawl, our progress was very slow) when we came to a fence corner grown up thick with weeds and bushes. Here we lay concealed another day, seeing the Yankee army, except their pickets, going into Port Hudson. About 9 o'clock that night, the third night, we again started out from our place of conceal- ment. We got along very well until we approached the cav- alry encampment, where we knew we must pass another line of pickets. I proposed to Clements that I crawl up and hunt for the picket line, letting him remain where he was. I crawled up the hill and just on top I heard footsteps. I lay flat on the ground and soon discovered that the person, who- ever he might be, was coming directly towards me. I lay as flat and still as possible, and soon realized that I had stopped immediately on the picket line. The sentinel walked up within ten feet of me, held up his foot, struck a match and lit his pipe. I looked him in the face until he turned about and marched up his beat. Clements came up quickly and we passed on. Soon we were in their camps and passing around their horses hitched by companies, frequently passing near the men lying asleep un- der the trees on great piles of cotton they had evidently stolen from the planters in the community. Clements proposed to seize each a horse and make a dash. I objected, saying we were doing well, and better let "well enough alone." Having to pass around so many camps and fires we lost our course, and as it was a cloudy night without a star, we could not recover it. We wandered about until nearly day, when finding that
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we would have to spend another day in the encampment, we began to look for a suitable place to conceal ourselves. We finally came, about daylight, to a newly felled tree. We got into the top, and by cutting brush with our knives, soon cov- ered up ourselves. We lay there without a drop of water until about 4 p. m. when a hard rain came up, and by rolling our hat brims on the side managed to catch enough water in our can- teens for a good drink. Just before night three negro men approached our tree top with axes. Clements said : "Padgett, we are gone up." But when the axmen approached nearer they decided, much to our relief, to cut down another tree. During the day we had been able to get the right direction from the sun, and about 9 p. m. we again sallied forth, soon leaving the enemy behind us. When we struck the railroad Clements exclaimed : "We are safe now, and started down the road to- wards Port Hudson, when I stopped him, saying: "You are going back to Port Hudson." He contended, and I soon saw that we could not agree. I told him that, however much I dis- liked it, we would separate, I taking the other end of the road. We discussed the seven stars, and he finally agreed to go with me until both should decide that I was wrong and he right. We went on through a large plantation for some distance when we discovered woods in front. I remarked to Clements that the enemy very likely had a strong rear guard as our Gen. Lo- gan had been attacking their rear every day or two and that their rear picket line would probably be at the edge of the wood. We decided that I should slip along ahead and reconnoitre. While moving forward cautiously some ominous night fowl, making a strange shrill noise, flew a few feet in front of me. Already filled with presentiment, this caused me to halt, when I distinctly heard horses stamping the ground in the woods. Thus was fancy, in a manner strange enough, turned into re- ality. We hurriedly retraced our steps up the railroad, and turned out to surround the picket post. This we effected with ease, both exclaiming "Safe!" when we again reached the rail- road beyond the pickets. We then marched on for two hours and came to very fine corn growing on each side of the track, from which we knew we were outside the Yankee lines. Just then some half a dozen heads bobbed up above the cross ties, demanding "halt! halt!" and "click, click" went their gun- locks, about twenty steps in our front. We stopped; neither
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Clements nor myself spoke a word. We scarcely breathed. One of the mysterious heads demanded : "Who comes there ?" I waited for Clements, and he for me to speak. When the de- mand was repeated I replied: "We are Confederate soldiers making our escape from Port Hudson," a moment's reflection convincing me that the quickest way to find them out was to let them know who we were. I then questioned them and ascer- tained that they were Logan's men. I asked if we could ap- proach. They replied that one of us could. I advanced and when within about five feet they ordered halt. We were dressed in Confederate officers' uniforms, which, doubtless looking blue at night, aroused some suspicion of deception. As I halted they asked whether we were armed. "Yes; with pistol and cutlass," I replied, observing at the same time that they were armed with double-barrel shotguns. We had a hard time re- moving their suspicions as to ourselves, but they were finally convinced. Spending an hour or two with the "boys" we went on our way rejoicing, having been assured that there no Yan- kees ahead. We marched till daybreak when we heard, about two hundred yards to the left of the railroad, chickens crowing and somebody calling hogs. We went up, expecting the plan- ter to give us a good breakfast. We found an old negro man and asked him who lived there. He replied himself and old woman, stating that the white folks had all fled leaving him in charge of the place. Upon our asking for breakfast, he seemed glad to accommodate us, saying we could tell his old woman all about her young massa and the neighbors' boys who were soldiers at Port Hudson. The old woman soon had three chick- ens on the table at our service. The old man watched for Yan- kees while we ate breakfast. Nearly all three of the chickens dis- appeared before our ravenous appetites, as did likewise a gal- lon of buttermilk. Exchanging our parched corn for what of the old lady's breakfast was left, we bade her and the old man 'farewell and took the railroad. After traveling about a mile we turned aside into a swamp and slept all day-the first sleep for three. days. That night we walked to Clintonville, about twenty miles ; and, our feet being worn out walking on crossties, we hired a conveyance to carry us about forty miles when we set out on foot for Waynesboro, Miss., our nearest railroad point.
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