USA > Virginia > Under the stars and bars ; a history of the Surry Light Artillery > Part 15
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him along on the way home. Very few of them, how- ever, ever succeeded, I believe, in getting home with one of those horses.
It was here, at this fine old church, that the Surry Light Artillery, and the other Batteries of Colonel Charles Lightfoot's Battalion, fell into fragments. It was here, with tearful eyes, we bid adieu to officers and comrades ! Here we looked our last upon our guns, and turned away forever from the battle-flag we had fol- lowed. Here the STARS and BARS fell to the ground, no more to float to the breeze. The men broke up into small squads, and turned away from their soldier-life with but one thought uppermost in each heart-HOME. Let us seek our homes!
A few of the commissary and supply wagons had succeeded in keeping along with the Batteries, and some of these contained a few articles of uncooked food- a little flour, some sugar, some bacon, perhaps, I am not sure, and-wonderful to say-some coffee! I am sure about the coffee, for when the men were told to take whatever articles they chose from the wagons, I secured a small bag of coffee for myself. I never could account for it how that coffee chanced to escape the pot so long. It had been many a month since any had been issued out to the men. But I had not quite for- got the look of coffee, and that took my eye and I took it and held it. I have ever been fond of coffee, and if, by chance, anything like a faint smile shone on my face that day, it must have been when I laid hold of
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that parcel of Rio or La Guayra-I think it could not have been Java. I trust my former comrades will par- don this personal mention. It was about the only lucky thing-barring the enemy's balls-that had happened for me that week, and I could not resist the temptation to speak of it here.
As I said, any of the men who would have one, took a horse to ride. But most of the men preferred not to be cumbered with a horse. And so the Company broke up into small squads-deeming that the best way to avoid falling into the hands of the enemy -- and the several parties started off-some whither, hither and thither, this way or that, as best suited their notion of the proper way to go. Some turned their faces directly homeward, regardless of the fact that 200,000 Federals stood directly in their way. A few, perhaps, tried a more circuitous route by the south. And others believed it would be wiser to cross over the James, and make their way down on the north side, around Richmond, and so on, down the Peninsula. Many took this course.
A company of twelve started out for the James, which was but a few miles away, and, in an hour or two, we succeeded in reaching it at some ferry, the name of which I have forgotten. But it was only a little way above the mouth of Elk river, a small tribu- tary that falls into the James from Appomattox county. On hallooing for the ferry-boat to cross over for us, two negroes promptly started out with the boat, and
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when they reached our side, told us that they had been instructed to put across the river any soldiers that might ask for a passage. The promptness of the negroes in answering our call had surprised us a little, and we were a bit suspicious that a trap had been set to capture us. But we passed across safely. In some way, some kind-hearted person had learned of the state of affairs in the army, and so they contributed their mite to aid any paroled or disbanded soldiers to reach their homes. It was a kind and benevolent act, and, I trust, they have, long ago, reaped a bountiful reward.
Thus we were across the James, in Amherst county. Our first object was to obtain food, and then a good, sound sleep-rest and recuperation for the journey homeward.
It is proper, at this point, to remind younger readers of this narrative, that the men of the S. L. A. who stayed by their guns to the end, and were with the command at Red Oak church, never surrendered. They were merely disbanded, and told to make their way home as best they could. There was not a Federal in our sight during the whole day of the 9th. There was no one to whom we might turn, to receive us as captives. It would have not been in keeping with the character of Virginians, for us to have voluntarily walked ten miles to General Grant's army, and there to have crossed arms and begged them to fasten on the fetters. None of us thought of doing that. The few of us who were with the guns did not undergo the humiliation of a
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surrender; we were not paroled; and some have never assented to "an oath of allegiance."
But, if we escaped this much of the bitterness of defeat, it amounted to nothing in the end. The blow fell with crushing weight upon us all, and it was then very uncertain what fortune awaited us, should we ever succeed in reaching our respective homes in safety. Should we find peace, or would it be vassalage and strife ? Would Virginia be ruled as a conquered province, or as a free State, equal with the rest ? Would the old soldiers be received as free citizens of a free republic, or would we be disfranchised, reduced to serfdom ?
These, and similar thoughts, perplexed us, but we could only go on and trust in God to guide and keep us in the hollow of His hand. One thing we felt we must do, the first thing-we must get home somehow, and once there, we would await developments and the trend of the Northern mind toward us. Sleep and rest now-strength for the journey-and then we would turn our faces eastward, like Israel of old, and hasten onward.
Farewell ! thou STARS and BARS! Proud banner of a proud people, noble even in their dire defeat ! Though thy folds may trail in the dust, and thy foes may deride and scorn thee for ages yet untold ! yet-sometime- in God's own time, out of the ashes of thy desolation, phoenix-like, thou wilt arise to grander things than at
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first. And the sons of thy first followers will seize thee and bear thee aloft, to float again on the breeze, the sacred ensign of a free and virtuous people. And under the shadow of thy folds will assemble the poor, the oppressed, the down-trodden, the Christ-like of every land and kingdom; and thy influence over them will be Love and Liberty, Peace and Happiness.
"The Flag we carried for four long years- The Blue, the White, and the Red- Fondly we fold it and bathe it in tears For the sake of the gallant dead!"
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HOMEWARD BOUND.
Rest and sleep-Starting out-Hospitality of the people by the way-Sheridan's trail of ashes and desolation-Passing Richmond-Down the Chickahominy-Waiting for dark- ness-Crosing the James-Home at last.
To soldiers who had performed a long and wearisome march of seven days on the very minimum of physical recuperation, the first consideration, on being disbanded, would be food and sleep-rest and strength for the long tramp of more than 200 miles, which now lay between them and their homes. Accordingly, once safely across the river, we procured corn meal and, I think, some bacon, from a family near the way, and seeking a retired and sheltered place among the hills, where we might sleep undisturbed by any passing foe, we proceeded to cook the food, and eat of our frugal meal.
Having partaken of our corn-pone and broiled mid- dling, the first tolerably full dinner we had enjoyed in more than a week, we made nice, soft berths of the forest leaves, and spreading our long-used and tattered blankets, we passed the night of April 9th with nothing to disturb our sleep or dreams, if dreams we had.
It was a lonely woodland glen, shaded by oak and chestnut trees, nestled cozily down amidst the rugged hills of Amherst county, where our little party of seven
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passed that first night after the sorrowful close at Ap- pomattox. We slept well, for we greatly needed sleep, but if dreams we had, they must have been, like our hearts, full of sorrow and sadness. Amherst county is a semi-mountainous section, wild and rugged like most other parts of the Piedmont country, a land where nature has been fairly lavish with her splendors; and I opine that many a mountain nook or dell might be found there, wherein some modern Rob Roy might find a safe retreat, and ply his vocation without fear of capture. The artist, the poet, or the novelist, might find there a thousand inspiring subjects for his skill to portray. The very coloring of each landscape seems veiled in the silken fringe of romance; and to one soldier boy present on this occasion, if fond memory had not just then presented to his vision the sacred al- lurements and tender ties of old Surry, in most be- witching guise, I verily believe he would have been content no further to go, but would have found there a home and resting-place forever.
Early on the morning of the 10th, our little party, refreshed and stronger, turned our faces eastward and set out to measure the footsteps, one by one, that sepa- rated us from the "home-place of our hearts." Deter- mined, if we could possibly help it, never to be carried to a Northern prison, it was our aim, by passing through an unfrequented part of the State, to avoid contact with the Federals, and so escape capture. It fell to the writer to act as guide for the party. It is
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the experiences of this small squad only that are related in this section. It consisted of Lieutenant W. W. Fore- man, George C. Holmes, Bird Harvey, W. Holt Berry- man, John A. Davis, Thomas Williams and B. W. Jones.
We found the people along our route to be obliging and hospitable, kindly supplying us with such food as they had to spare, directing us on our way, and giving us shelter at night. But the news of the surrender fell upon them with stunning effect. They had hoped for better things, after all the sacrifices that they had made, and it was with doubt and uncertainty that they looked now upon the future. What would be the post-bellum status to them? We could not tell them. All that we knew was that the conditions of the armis- tice were liberal.
How fortunate for all of us, then, was it that none could lift the veil that concealed beneath its lurid and slimy folds the horrors, wrongs and humiliations of the decade, now known as the miserable "reconstruction days"-the decade of the carpet-bagger, the renegade, and the "gentleman of color."
By the night of the 10th, we had reached Norwood, in Nelson county, where the kind proprietor gave us a good supper and a comfortable house where to sleep. Nor- wood is, or was then, a fine place, beautifully located on a mountain ridge, fit haunt for the muses or the litera- teuer-and the memory of one comfortable night spent there in April, 1865, will long retain its hold upon the writer.
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The next day we reached and crossed Albemarle county, following the towpath of the James River Canal for many miles. This county was the home of the men of Captain Rives's Battery, but we met not a single one of them, though they all might have been safely home by that time.
At Scottsville, in the southeastern corner of that county, we came upon the serpent trail of Sheridan's vandal horde as they came down from the Valley of Virginia in March, 1865, passing by Charlottesville and striking the Canal first at this place. The whole village was one scene of ruin and devastation, private and public property alike having gone down before the devouring flame. Every factory, shop, mill and store was burned, the locks of the Canal dismantled, and the records and books torn and scattered around. The little town lay in its blackened pall like a mourner weeping under the willow trees. It was thus they con- quered us. Upon Sheridan's gang the shame and infamy of this mode of warfare must rest as a perpetual disgrace upon them. No Veteran can ever forget these things, if he would. Following the line of the Canal from this point to Columbia, and beyond, their work of hate and extermination went on with ruthless hand, destroying mills, fences, locks, bridges, homes, crops, stocks and supplies, without mercy, without shame!
Is it wrong that I should speak of these things here ? that I should call up again the mode of the black-handed invaded, who subdued with the torch and flame those
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whom he could not conquer in battle ? Nay, but I will speak-not to stir those olden hates again, but that the future historian may know all the truth-but that the sons may know how the fathers were despoiled and their progenitors impoverished. To these sons we leave thy future, O Virginia !
At Scottsville we took the road by Central Plains to Palmyra and beyond, and tarried for the night with a Rev. Mr. Fox, a Baptist minister, I believe, who re- ceived us very kindly, supplied our wants in a most liberal manner, and gave us full directions for the journey the next day. I shall ever remember his kind- ness to us with gratitude. ` And if, by any chance, this book should fall into the hands of any person to whom the family is known, I beg them to again express to any survivor thereof, our thanks for the Christian hospi- tality shown a party of seven ex-Confederates, on the night of April 12, 1865.
The next day we crossed Goochland and entered Han- over county, and passing on, without incident or adven- ture, by Saturday evening, the 15th, had reached the vicinity of Mechanicsville, a few miles north of Rich- mond. Knowing, of course, that the Federals were about that place in full force, we passed the night in a sheltered forest, not caring to sleep in any house, lest some one should betray us, and we should be captured, after all. -
On the 16th we proceeded on our way around Rich- mond by the east, passing Mechanicsville in time to
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escape a train-load of Federals, and on down by the battlefields of Cold Harbor, and along the country on the eastern side of the Chickahominy, by scenes familiar enough to us, and over ground made famous by the events of war. The traces of war were abundant enough-blackened ruins, earthworks, forests destroyed, bridges, mills and homes burned.
Families were few and far between, but at night we found lodging with a Mr. Christian, an educator, who had taught school at Surry Court House prior to the war. We began to feel like we were getting among home people once more. And I believe our accidental stop there proved a treat to him, inasmuch as it revived his recollections of the people of Surry during his sojourn among them. We felt as if we could almost sniff the Surry air from his place.
Up to the present time our party had remained in- tact. But on procuring a canoe on the Chickahominy the next morning, two of the boys, George C. Holmes and Thomas Williams, got into it, with the view of descending the stream to Windsor Shade, a mile or two below, where we designed procuring a larger boat, in which the whole party might descend the river.
Windsor Shade, a small hamlet at that time, is at the head of navigation on the river, and from that place up, the stream is a mere swamp, filled with cypress timber. Unfortunately for the two boys in the boat, the streamn was found to be so choked with logs and fallen timber, that they could not make their
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way down. And after trying some time in vain to do so, and losing precious time, they finally went ashore and continued the walk down to the rendezvous, only to find that the rest of us had departed. Not doubting but they would get along safely and without difficulty, and that they would soon overtake us in their boat (as we designed to proceed slowly until they came up), we had left some time before they arrived.
On this account, and being unable to procure another boat at the place, the boys gave up, and finally pro- ceeded to Richmond and became prisoners. They were sent to Point Lookout, where they found several other men of the S. L. A., but were held some months before being released and sent home. It was the source of much regret to the rest of the party that they should have thus become separated from us. We kept a watch for them all that day and the next, hoping that they would finaly overtake us. But we saw them no more until long months afterward.
Once during that day, we stopped at a house imme- diately on the river side, where a family resided. But we saw few signs of life, and very few persons any- where along the river. Our journey down was made with tolerable ease, the boys taking turns at rowing. The country along the river was, at that time, un- promising enough. No signs of labor, or scarcely of human life. Ruins marked the site of many a once pleasant home, and while the river is a large and nav- igable stream, and the country one of fine possibilities,
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at that date, of course, it was deserted and desolate, for there, too, the destroying hand of the Huns and Van- dals had been.
As we were on the water, and had only to keep in midstream and row, we deemed it best, at nightfall, to continue on our way, hoping to reach the mouth of the river and cross the James before daylight. But on arriving in sight of the James, we discovered that gun- boats were stationed all along the river, about a mile apart, as if they were guarding the stream. It was then too near daybreak for us to venture on the trip across, and as there would be no possibility of crossing by day- light, we concluded to go ashore, and wait for darkness the following night.
It was a long and weary day to us, and we waited and viewed the situation and formed our plans and calcu- lated on the chances of reaching the coveted goal as soon as friendly night should fall again. Only three miles between us and our homeland, but doomed to wait long hours before we might attempt to reach it! Having almost reached the end, having arrived in sight of home, it would never do to fail now. We would be patient and wait.
Concealing our boat, we went ashore and tarried around while the slow-footed hours paced by. ventured up to a farm house and learned that the place was known as Sandy Point. We found only colored people, but these some of the better class of the old
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regime. They gave us some bacon and bread, which was our only meal that day, and then we returned, to keep a watchful eye on our boat.
Darkness came at last. Wrapping our oars, to pre- vent making a noise in the row-locks, we set out to thread our way carefully and silently across the James. The war-ships, with their lights, looked as if they had got nearer together, and we were obliged to pass fear- fully near to one of them. But we kept on, making all the speed we could.
And, at last, our little craft grated upon the sands of old Surry shore! and all the gunboats on the James could not have stayed us then ! The hearts of five ex- Confederates beat lighter and freer than they had done for many a day before. We were on our native soil, and a single day more would bear each of us to our respec- tive homes.
But we were yet too far up the river, and had still to work our way as cautiously as we could around the long point known as Swan's Point Bar, before we could reach Cobham landing, the place where we designed going ashore.
Billy Holt, who knew the river well, was our pilot, and, in due time, and without mishap, we reached the landing place, and our feet pressed the friendly soil of our native heath again !
Does any one suppose that gratitude to Almighty God did not swell within our hearts, for our delivery from all the dangers of the way ? for leading us safely
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on to the end ? Nay, but we could have knelt and kissed the soil at our feet, in very thankfulness of heart. After the many sad- events and dangers of the past month-yea, of the past four years-forgetting all our long marches, toils, privations, sufferings and changes that we had experienced, we devoutly thanked the God of heaven that we had arrived safely at home again- adored His holy name that we had escaped capture, wounds, death-had been preserved through all the dan- gers incident to war, and were favored to stand again upon our native soil. Truly could we say :
"Through many dangers, toils and pains Our weary feet have come; 'Twas Grace that guarded all the way, And Grace that led us home"
This was Tuesday night, April 18th, 1865, just nine days from Appomattox, having tramped more than 200 miles in about eight days, as we tarried all of 18th at Sandy Point, in Charles City county.
But where are all of our late companions and com- rades in arms ? those men from whom we parted nine days ago ? Have any of them arrived at home ? No. All of them have surrendered. Some are held at Peters- burg or at City Point; some are on their way by dif- ferent routes homeward; and others have been sent ou to Point Lookout, or Fortress Monroe, to suffer the humiliating experiences of imprisonment for many long
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weeks. It was this that we feared and that made us so resolved to thread our way homeward without falling into the hands of the foe, and thus of being delayed in- definitely, until it might suit the convenience of the Federals to permit us to proceed onward. Our party is the first to reach home the longer distance, but the shortest trip. And we have had no experience with Yankee blackguard or negro insolence! This alone is worth all the pains the longer way has cost us.
But alas! alas! how different is the result from what we fondly hoped it would be! from that for which we fought and believed would be! The Southern Con- federacy lies prostrate at the feet of her despoilers. They wore us out by attrition and the torch. What a gloom, a foreboding, a sadness, rests over the land ! Who can tell, as yet, but that a worse disaster than de- feat awaits us. Shadows seem to lower everywhere. All is despondency, apprehension, fear. There is no life, but a stupor, a dazed unrest, a silent looking about for even a trace of the silver lining on the dark cloud.
Silver lining ? Is there any-can there be any to such a storm-burst as this? How will the Federals regard us in the coming years? We can only await and see what the future will bring, whether magna- nimity or oppression.
Such were the thoughts that came to us, half spoken, half unuttered, as, on the next day, we stood awhile
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together on the Court House green, ere we separated to seek our respective homes.
"God rules. We will trust Him," whispers one to the rest. And with this comforting hope animating us, we clasp hands and part.
And here ends my Recollections of the war. I. have told the story of the Surry Light Artillery as I re- member it. I believe that my comrades who yet sur- vive will find that it is a truthful and, in the main, a pretty full account of the scenes, events and dangers through which we passed during those memorable years in which the Southern States were engaged in a desperate struggle for their separate independence. I have aimed to emphasize the right of a free people, to resist with arms and to the death, the invasion of their native land. I have sought to put on record just what the men of Surry and the surrounding counties fought for-that it was not, as many seem yet to suppose, to perpetuate the institution of negro slavery, but it was to maintain the sovereign liberty, the supreme authority of each separate State to govern and control its own domestic affairs according to the will of its own free citizens.
State Rights according to the copy of the old Consti- tution, and personal liberty as guaranteed by that docu- ment, were the issues involved in that war.
And when Virginia, in the exercise of her sovereign right, withdrew from the Union on April 17, 1861; and
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when, shortly afterward, at various points, an armed soldiery crossed the borders of the State, with the ex- pressed purpose of coercing her people into submission to Northern tyranny-then the men of Surry saw it was time to confront the invaders of their State with arms in their hands, and fight for their homes and their altars.
Were they wrong? What though the issue of the contest went against them, and they failed for the time being? While right is right, and truth is truth, the principle remains inviolable. To the calmer judgment of posterity I will appeal for the justice of our course.
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