USA > Wisconsin > An illustrated history of Wisconsin from prehistoric to present periods : the story of the state interspersed with realistic and romantic events > Part 31
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In that Georgia home, with the care of the mother and sisters, Tom's chances for getting well would be one hundred per cent. better than they would were he sent to a confederate hospital.
There was danger, too, that if they were sent to the hospital the boys would be separated. If they went to the Georgia home they would remain together.
Early the next morning the sergeant began his work of mercy by getting the consent of his colonel to convey the men to his home and to give him a brief note to the provost-marshal, urging that officer to give his consent also to such a course.
Just before leaving the colonel, that officer said :
" Sergeant, why do you take such an interest in these wounded Yankees?"
"Colonel, I can't just tell you why I am so interested, but there was
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something about their talk that just took hold of my heart, and I listened to everything they said and made up my mind that I would help them all I could ; and I thank you, sah, for your consent to this appeal to the provost-marshal, and if he thinks as you do, may I ask the doctah to send them to the house in our regimental ambulance ?"
" I think that would hardly do, sergeant ; try to get some other convey- ance-our ambulance will be busy all day conveying our wounded to hospital and private houses."
An hour later the sergeant returned to the poor, stiffened, disheartened, hungry soldiers, with his face beaming with gladness, and reported that every- thing was arranged, but he could only take one at a time, and they would have to put up with a ride in a Georgia go- cart. That Georgia go-cart was propelled by a colored man and the sergeant. It was a two-wheeled conveyance, with a rickety box, the bottom of which was thickly strewn with straw.
By the aid of the colored man, the ser- geant placed poor Tom in the go-cart and started for home.
The good southern mother with her two young daughters was at the door to re- ceive and welcome the son's guest, and as tenderly aided in conveying him to the spare bed as if he had been their own son and brother.
It was afternoon before Bob joined his comrade, and night before medical assistance was procured to look after the soldier who believed that he was fatally wounded, but not a word of complaint came from the sufferer. Within three weeks Bob had so far recovered that he could wait upon and properly care for his comrade, and it was only necessary for the neighborhood doctor to come once a week from that time until they carried out their agreement with the sergeant.
The sergeant remained at home only one night, and his parting with his mother and sisters and the Yankees the next morning was a most sorrowful one; and as much so for the wounded Unionists as for the household. To this day they believe that the Johnnie felt quite as badly as they did.
His last words upon passing through the door were :
"Mother, take good care of the Yanks. They are prave men, and sometime they, or some of their comrades, may be of as much service to you
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in looking after me as you will be to them. Good-by, mother and sisters; good-by, Yanks."
When he reached the hill, twenty rods from the Georgia home, he lifted his hat, waved it, and passed out of sight, joined his company, and was soon on his way back to Virginia.
The union soldiers soon discovered that they were not the guests of a poor Georgia family-that those who were so kindly caring for them were any- thing but "poor white trash," as the extremely poor of the south are desig- nated by both white and colored people. They found that Mrs. Williams was an educated, refined woman, and that her daughters were intelligent, bright, ladylike girls. In conversation one day Bob said to Mrs. Williams :
" How does it happen that your son, part of the time, talks as we have heard the extremely poor of the south talk, and at other times as you talk ?"
The lady smiled and answered by saying :
" I suppose it is owing to his association with men who have not always talked as we do at his home. He astonished us by his manner of conversation as much as he did you, after you learned the character of the man and his sur- roundings. He is a graduate of an Indiana college and began the practice of law, but the war broke out and he felt that it was his duty to fight for his state. He has several times refused a commission, saying that there were those who were better qualified to be officers than himself, and that he did not enlist for honor and glory, but to serve his state."
This afforded an opportunity for argumentative Bob to talk politics, but he resisted the temptation; probably the first time he ever hesitated to strike back when the question of states-rights was mentioned.
In November, Robert-it is now time to change from Bob to Robert Graves and from Tom to Thomas Holcomb-was about as well and strong as ever, but Holcomb was still pale, weak and unable to walk, though in a fair way to fully recover. Robert, fearing that he would be taken away by one of the roaming bands of rebels, which were often seen passing, decided that the first confederate officer he saw, he would request him to stop and listen to his story. His wait was a brief one. The next day the colonel of an Alabama regiment, accompanied by his adjutant and one or two other officers, came along. Robert saluted him, told the story and begged permission to remain with his friend until he was able to accompany him to prison. The colonel asked that Mrs. Williams also make a statement, which she did, declaring that it was the parting request of her soldier son that she take good care of the men, and that it was her belief that the presence of the well soldier was neces- sary for the proper care of the invalid.
The colonel, after closely examining the union soldier, wrote a pass, giv- ing the two men leave to remain until the following January, unless Holcomb
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recovered before, and in that case both were to make their way to the nearest railroad station, where they would meet a confederate force, hand his pass to the officer in charge, and request that they be sent to Atlanta for confinement in the temporary prison.
One mild January day, before the boys were to take their departure from that which had been to them a home, indeed ever since the 22d of September, there were many things to talk about. The Georgians, enemies as they were, had been as kind to the young men as they could wish.
The poor boys were greatly distressed at their inability to repay Mrs. Williams and her daughters for their great kindness. When the question of remuneration was brought up by Graves, Holcomb said :
" If we live and return to our homes we shall surely repay you, and pay you well, for your more than kindness to us in our distress. Our own families could not have treated us better than you have. You have anticipated our needs. You have not treated us as enemies, but as friends. We shall never forget our great good fortune in falling into the hands of such people after our misfortune at the battle of Chickamauga."
" Now, let me speak," said one of the young ladies. " Say no more about what you owe us. We make no charge. I speak for my mother and sister when I tell you that the brave soldier boy who brought you to our door is all the world to us. What he wants us to do we are always glad to do. Of course, we were prejudiced against you, your people ; prejudiced against soldiers of your army , but my brother wanted us to receive and care for you and treat you kindly. It has afforded us pleasure to comply with his request, and in complying with that request of our dear, brave soldier boy we have learned to respect and like you very much. We dislike to see you go. If, when you return to your army, you should ever meet that brother a prisoner, we know that you will do everything in your power to make his term of imprisonment as bright and cheerful as possible."
The hour of departure came. Good-bys were said, and confederate and union tears were shed in that Georgia home.
I am aware that to have these boys fall in love with the girls, and these girls fall in love with the boys, is in accordance with the usages of story tellers, but the fact is, the boys did not fall in love with the girls, nor the girls with the boys ; but both came to respect and esteem each other very highly ; that was all. Addresses were given, and keepsakes exchanged between the young people.
The next day the prisoners were confined in close quarters at Atlanta and the next spring they were among the first to be placed in Andersonville. It was in that place that they managed to get word to their homes that they were still among the living. It was also their good fortune to be among the first batch of prisoners to be sent north for exchange.
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They had returned to their regiment for duty a few days previous to Sherman's advance from Chattanooga to Atlanta.
The boys, our young heroes, were glad indeed when they discovered that they belonged to that portion of the army which moved in the direction of their recent home while in tribulation. Two days after the march commenced they passed the blackened remains of all of the buildings on the great planta- tion where they had been so hospitably entertained for months
A cavalry battle had taken place there and both sides had contributed to the destruction. Graves and Holcomb made inquiries of some of the people as to what had become of Mrs. Williams and her daughters. They were told that they had barely escaped with their lives, and had gone to friends in Ala- bama, but the gentleman who imparted the information was unable to say just what part of Alabama they had gone to.
The sorrow of our young friends was repeatedly expressed in conversa- tion between themselves and with their friends in the company. Had they learned that a similar misfortune had befallen their dear ones at their northern homes, they could not have felt worse than they did to know that these hos- pitable, loving women of the south had been bereft of their home and com- pelled to leave the state. But there were such stirring times from then until after the capture of Atlanta that the minds of the young men were pretty thoroughly employed. There were battles nearly every day for a month, some severe ones, some little more than a skirmish. The men of Sherman's army were not out of the sound of musketry and cannonading from the time they left Chattanooga, the first days of May, 1864, until the fall of Atlanta. The wounds of our heroes troubled them, but they were of the material out of which real soldiers are made. They were in the army because they felt it was their duty to be there; they were there to do everything their officers called upon them to do, and to do it cheerfully and as bravely as their courage would allow them to do it. The pains in those wounds, though healed, were very great, but not great enough to induce them to ask to be sent to hospital or to be relieved from any duty. They did their full share on the skirmish line, on picket and in the line of battle, every day; loading and firing behind breast- works, charging across fields and digging trenches or marching at night ; car- rying off the wounded, burying the dead.
The day of the fall of Atlanta two commissions were received by the colonel of that Illinois regiment. One was for Robert Graves, as first lieu- tenant, and the other for Thomas Holcomb, as second lieutenant. The boys had never intimated to their superiors that they were anxious for promotion. They had served as privates, corporals and sergeants, and had only sought one of these positions-the high rank of private. The others had been ten- dered them without solicitation. Such promotions are looked back upon with great pleasure by every soldier who received them.
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Now, let us follow the fortunes of Sergeant Williams, of the -th Georgia infantry.
Very soon after returning to his company, his regiment, of Longstreet's corps, was ordered back to Virginia, though the entire corps did not follow until later. The regiment was given a royal welcome in the cities through which it passed on the way back to Lee's Army of Northern Virginia, by the hopeful confederates, who seemed to realize the fact that but for the presence of Longstreet's famous fighting corps the confederate army, at the battle of Chickamauga, would have been well nigh annihilated, instead of being able to win the great victory that the south has always claimed at the battle of Chick- amauga. Northerners who were in that battle confess that they were defeated, but insist that it was a poor victory for the southerners.
The winter of 1863-4 was spent in the customary humdrum manner near Gordonsville, Virginia. While in camp at Gordonsville the colonel of his regiment made Sergeant Williams another offer of a commission. This time it was accepted. He thought he had learned enough of war to become an officer, and in a few days he was saluted and addressed as Lieutenant Williams, in- stead of in the old familiar way as Jim Williams.
The hard work of the campaign, begun early in May, 1864, by Long- street's corps, which had sometime previous returned from the southwestern country, told heavily upon it. It was plunged into the thickest of the fight, losing frightfully in engagements which took place between Grant's and Lee's armies in the Wilderness battles, whose fame is world-wide. It was in one of these battles that the old corps commander, Longstreet, was stricken down. Williams's regiment suffered frightfully from loss of officers, as well as men. On the tenth of May his colonel recommended him for promotion as captain, for bravery in the Wilderness fights.
In one of the engagements at Spottsylvania, the -th Georgia was ordered to charge the well-built and firmly-defended line of union works. The first charge was repulsed. The second was made with an increased force. All of the Georgia regiment who were not killed in the second charge were made prison- ers. A Wisconsin regiment assisted in defending that part of the line.
In the detail made to give the prisoners safe conduct to the rear, and to guard them until they could be conveyed to Belle Plain, for transportation to Washington, was a brother of Lieutenant Graves, of the -th Illinois. Upon learning that the prisoners belonged to a Georgia regiment he immedi- ately inquired the number of the regiment, and upon being told, asked if there was a Sergeant Williams present.
His brother Robert had written him the story of his having been wounded, made a prisoner and the kindness extended to him by the mother and sisters of the confederate sergeant.
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"We used to have a Sergeant Williams, but he is no longer a sergeant. We now have a Captain Jim Williams," and here the confederate soldier sud- denly stopped speaking and glanced through the ranks of the prisoners. When he spoke again, he said :
" Look yer, Tom, have you seen Captain Jim Williams since the Yanks took us in ?"
" I know he was with us when we reached the works," said the fellow- prisoner.
An examination developed the fact that Captain Williams had been seri- ously wounded.
The guards halted the prisoners when about a mile from where they had been captured.
Private Graves approached the officer in command, who happened to be a member of his own regiment, and in a hurried manner explained the debt of gratitude which his brother owed to a family in Georgia, and then told his superior that a son of the woman who had befriended him was himself wounded in the charge just made, and asked permission to return to the line and see if he could find him. Permission was granted, but reluctantly, in consequence of the uncertainty of what the next move would be.
Hastening back to the line, Graves discovered a number of wounded con- federates receiving attention at the hands of the surgeons. Without address- ing any particular one, he asked the question :
" Is Captain Williams among the wounded ?"
" Who is asking for Captain Williams?" answered a poor fellow whose shattered arm was being dressed."
" I am, sir." " Who are you ?"
" My name is Graves, of the -th Wisconsin."
" My name is Williams, sir."
" Do your people live in Georgia ?"
" They did live there."
" Did you befriend a couple of union soldiers after the battle of Chicka- mauga ?"
"Well, not exactly. I had them cared for in my mother's home. I re- garded it as only an act of humanity, sah." " Robert Graves was my brother. I have come to see if I can do any- thing for you, captain."
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" Well, young man, I don't know as there is anything you can do for me. I think my arm must come off."
" Well, captain, I am here to do anything and everything in my power for you. Such kindness as you and your people showed my wounded brother calls for my best efforts in your behalf. "
The young man then approached the colonel of his regiment, related the story, and begged permission to remain with Captain Williams until he was out of danger, and in a place of comfort.
At that moment the brigade commander rode up. A pass was written for Private Henry Graves, signed by the colonel and brigade commander, per- mitting him to remain with Captain Williams, of the -th Georgia, as his nurse, for at least two weeks.
That night Captain Williams and several other wounded confederates, ac- companied by young Graves, and a guard, were transported over the rough roads to Fredericksburg, and the next day our confederate hero's right arm was amputated. Here they remained for a week, when the captain was sent, with a large number of others, to Belle Plain, placed on a steamer and conveyed to Washington, where he was admitted to Lincoln hospital.
His Yankee nurse, ever watchful of his interests, as soon as he saw Wil- liams comfortably located in the hospital, called upon a wealthy relative in the city, explained to him why he was in Washington, told what Williams's family had done for his brother Bob and his comrade, and asked that the wealthy Washingtonian receive Captain Williams into his home until he was able to return south. The request was quickly and gladly granted, though the Wash- ingtonian was a stanch Unionist who had gone to Washington from New York in the 'fifties. That night, Williams, for the first time since leaving home, slept on a bed, and it was the best in that Washington home. Being a man of good health and correct habits, and never having lost his nerve, Williams's re- covery was rapid.
About the last conversation Captain Williams and Private Graves had was that in which the Georgia captain told of his experience the morning be- fore the disastrous charge. During the conversation he said : " That morn- ing I wrote my mother a letter telling her all about my belongings, where they were, what I wanted done with them, and told her that if I did not return she should only think of me as a son who was willing to give his life for old Georgia. I expected that that would be my last battle. I expected to be slain. It was the only premonition in all my army experience. I have my life and my health, but my sword-arm is gone, yet I shall go back to active service if they will receive me."
The captain was able to ride down to the wharf and see his Yankee nurse depart for the front. "My mother will be more glad than ever," he said,
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" that she was kind to your brother and his friend when she learns of your thoughtfulness in looking after my welfare. And I can't thank you enough. Good-by, and God bless you, even if you are a Yank."
Captain Williams was exchanged late in July, and returned to his com- mand, and, strange as it may seem, was on duty at the battle of Weldon Rail- road, the 21st of August. In climbing a fence, while his regiment was mak- ing a charge, he fell and seriously injured his wounded right arm, and was sent to hospital. The arm was again amputated. A month later Williams, now a major, suddenly disappeared and was not heard of by his friends for nearly twenty years.
One day he appeared on his old home plantation in Georgia and inquired for his family. No one seemed to know just where Mrs. Williams was living, but an old colored woman, who had lived in the family, remembered that one of the sisters had married a Montgomery, Alabama, gentleman, and that they had taken up their residence in Chicago.
By some means, he was never able to tell just how, he reached Chicago and searched out his sister. He was so changed that she did not recognize him. He very soon made himself known, however, and the joy of the sister, who had mourned her brother as dead, may be imagined, but not told.
During the next few days and evenings Major Williams told his sister, a widow, and her daughter, what he could, of his life since the war. While in hospital he realized the approach of insanity, and one night, when the nurses were not on the watch, he stole away and wandered from place to place, being shut up at one time in a county jail, at another time in an asylum, then care- fully cared for by strangers until 1884, when his reason returned and he imme- diately set about returning to his old home and in search of his family.
The major found light employment and was of great service to his wid- owed sister in supplying the home with the necessaries and comforts of life.
Last winter, after a hard fight with rheumatism, which tortured him al- most into his grave, the major said to his sister and niece : "We will try once more to find our northern friends. I want very much to see them. I am sure they are alive. I have a feeling that if we make one more effort we shall suc- ceed. That thought has been in my mind for several days. It is not just like that old premonition on that beautiful May day in 1864, at Spottsylvania, Virginia, when my right wing was plucked off, but it lingers with me and I cannot get it out of my mind."
The next morning there appeared in a Chicago paper an advertisement inquiring for the addresses of two men-Robert Graves and Thomas Holcomb.
In a palatial residence on Michigan avenue a pretty scene was enacted one morning last January. A little flaxen-haired maiden, who had been look- ing over the paper, exclaimed :
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" Why, papa! Here's some one who wants to know where you are."
" Williams-Williams-James Williams? Upon my soul, my old friend from Georgia is asking after me. Bob, order the carriage. I want you to take a ride with me."
Captain Holcomb spoke to his son, who had been named in honor of his army comrade.
An hour later, Major James Williams and Captain Thomas Holcomb stood face to face for the first time in almost thirty years. It was a remarkable reunion. A happy one in some respects, and a sorrowful one in others.
Holcomb learned about his friend's sad misfortune after returning to his regiment, of his mother's death, that one sister was living in Texas, married, and that his home had been with the Chicago sister since his recovery. Hol- comb, a man of considerable wealth, a well-known Board of Trade man, did not ask any questions as to the financial condition of his friends, but took steps the next day to ascertain, and, as he expected, found that they were, while not in want, poor people, and the next time he visited them he insisted upon loaning the major a thousand dollars, taking his note at six per cent, with the mental reservation that the note should be destroyed as soon as he returned to his place of business.
A week later, Captain Holcomb was called to the bedside of his old con- federate friend. He had ventured out in a storm and taken a severe cold that resulted in pneumonia. His death followed, and among the sincere mourners at his grave were Captain Holcomb and Captain Graves, the latter a resi- dent of Milwaukee, who were accompanied on the sad mission by several mem- bers of their respective families.
The widow and her daughter, the latter a native of Montgomery, Alabama, a charming young girl of eighteen, were invited to spend a few weeks in the family of Captain Holcomb ; but that visit was not necessary to make warmer the friendship that had grown up between young Holcomb and Miss Cherry Fitz- gerald, the widow's daughter. They had fallen in love on the first visit made by Captain H. and his son. The young people were romantic.
One day Captain Graves received a letter from his Chicago friend, Captain Holcomb, asking him to meet him at the St. Paul station, Milwaukee. He met him, and also the bevy of young people who accompanied him. Their story was a short one. The young people thought it would be more romantic to get married in Milwaukee. The party visited a minister, the ceremony was performed, and this is the story of " Three Premonitions. "
-BINNER-CO-MIL-
THE RETURN OF CLEOPATRA.
With Mark Antony to her Palace in Alexandria, Egypt, from the original picture painted by Mark R. Harrison. Size of picture, 7 by 5 feet. On exhibition at No. 14 Sixth street, Fond du Lac, Wis.
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