Notes of a private

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Preface

In writing this book the author has relied almost entirely on his own memory for such reminiscences, sketches and portraitures of character as are printed on its pages. He served the entire period of the Civil War in Company E, Seventh Tennessee Cavalry, which regiment was commanded successively by Colonels W. II. Jackson, J. G. Stocks and W. L. Duckworth, assisted by Lieutenant-Colonel W. F. Taylor and Major C. C. Clay. Few private soldiers saw more of the war, or had better opportunities for observation. His company served in parts of five States, and traveled thousands of miles under the orders of many different generals. He believes that a careful perusal of these pages will afford entertainment to people who admire Southern valor, and amusement and instruction to girls and boys who will, perhaps, be stimulated thereby to read more pretentious books concerning the greatest war of modern times. This belief and a keen desire to preserve in permanent form some sort of memento for his own and the descendants of the members of the old company have chiefly prompted him in undertaking a task which, while a work of love, has required much labor to accomplish. He trusts that in the form and style of the book and in the manner of presentation of the varied list of subjects, even the partiality of friends will find little to excuse.

378 Lauderdale Street,

Memphis, Term.

June 1, 1909.

Chapter I. Mustering In — "good-bye

SWEETHEARTS."

I am to write here of men with whom I was associated in a great war, and of things in which I was a participant. To do even and exact justice shall be my aim, and there shall be no motive other than to give truthful accounts of men and events as they came under my personal observation.

When we mounted our horses at the Bills Corner, in Bolivar, Tennessee, and started for the war, there were one hundred and one of us. This company was composed largely of a jolly, rollicking set of young men from the farms of Hardeman County, who knew little of restraint and less of discipline. Like any other hundred and one men, promiscuously enlisted, some of these in time became fine soldiers, others fairly so, while still others dropped out of the ranks and abandoned the cause. One hundred and eighty-nine names were finally carried on the rolls, but from these a large company could have been taken which added nothing to the renown acquired by our regiment before the close of the war. Considering the fierce political contest through which the country had just passed and the thorough discussion of the questions at issue, the rapid enlistment of volunteers was surprising. It was evident that the election of a President by a party entirely sectional, and the open threats of a radical press in regard to slavery, had aroused an exuberance of Southern sentiment which the conservative element could not withstand. There was a strong feeling for preserving the Union in our community, but on that bright morning in May, 1861, the sentiment for war seemed to be in the ascendant. There were the usual extravagant talk and nonsense, but all were patriotic and meant well. I was of the conservatives who had voted steadily against secession and was prepared to maintain my mental equilibrium in almost any kind of political revulsion.

Some of the more enthusiastic women threatened to put petticoats on the young fellows who did not enter the ranks promptly. These same women v/orked till their fingers were sore in getting the soldiers ready for service. We knew nothing about war and had a problem in deciding just what to carry along. No page in the old school histories had told us how little a soldier must get along on, and there was no experienced campaigner present to tell us. Some of us thought that a white shirt or two would be essential. Razors, combs, brushes and hand glasses were in our outfits. It bothered us to reduce these things to a small package that we could handle easily. We had many details to settle. Saddle-bags? They had all been appropriated by the "early birds" — the fellows who were afraid the war would be over before they could get to it. We resorted to the use of the old-fashioned wallet, an article fashioned after the similitude of a pillow-slip, closed at both ends and with a slit in the middle. Made of stout osnaburgs, it proved to be a sufficient receptacle. But the "wallet" was not tidy enough for the "trim soldier," and in case of rain the contents were drenched. All this was remedied afterward by experience in packing, necessity for economy, and by spoils captured on the field. We, too, got to using McClellan saddles with large pockets, rubber cloths and regulation blankets. Indeed, later on, if Grant had met one of us, he would have pronounced us "correct" from halter to spur, if only he could have been blinded to the suit of gray or butternut. There came a time when we had new Yankee guns and were constantly on the lookout for cartridges of the right caliber. You see, we "paid some attention to details, " if we did sometimes leave in a hurry.

But we are off for Jackson to be mustered in. At Medon the good people who had that day given a farewell dinner to their home company had a bountiful spread for us. As Company E of the Seventh Cavalry we advanced in line of battle over this very spot at the old brick church on the "Armstrong raid," and here we had the first real taste of heavy firing. Our gallant young Captain Tate here used his favorite word, "Steady," which we had heard so often on drill, and reproached us for trying to dodge the balls.

Our mustering officer was A. W. Campbell, who rose to the rank of Brigadier-General, and it was another coincidence that Company E was in his brigade at the surrender. Like Chalmers, he carried his good breeding into camp, and even in the woods there was an air of refinement in all his ways. "We had six weeks of hot weather and strenuous drill on the Jackson Fair Grounds. Plentiful rations and boxes from home, but in these forty-eight years I haven't forgotten the Jackson flies. I remember that a Bolivar girl said they were "the laziest flies she had ever seen." This depended upon the point of view. They came on with a rush, but were a little slow in getting out of the way.

Orders came to march to Randolph by way of Bolivar. We were all happy in the prospect of spending a few days at home. We were now soldiers sure enough — in the estimation of our friends. Hadn't we been in camp six long, hot weeks? Pleasures incident to such occasions are sufficiently sweet to last a long time. Alas ! they never do.

"Boots and saddles" for Randolph. At the "old factory" on Clear Creek the people of the "Whiteville country prepared a dinner for us that was simply above criticism, except to say that it was perfect in every particular. We had our first bivouac at Stanton. Moving under a July sun and along miles and miles of dusty road, we reached the vicinity of Randolph tired and hungry. We reverted to the "flesh pots" and dreamed of Medon and Whiteville, and other good things that we had seen. The hills and vallej's were covered with the tents of the Provisional Army of Tennessee, under General John L. T. Sneed. We certainly got the impression h©re that the war was a fixed fact. Preparations went forward day and night. It was time for serious reflection. Some of us, though young men, had been thinking over the grave questions for some time, particularly during the exciting political canvass of the previous year. ]\Iany who admitted the abstract right of secession but had voted against it as wrong under the circumstances, if not impracticable, were yet hoping that a wicked war would somehow be averted. All the elements of opposition to the Republicans had a popular majority in the election of 1860 of over one million votes, and a majority of eight in the Senate and twenty-one in the House. They could have contested Republican measures or even blocked legislation for two more years. Lincoln had always protested against the policy of interfering with slavery in the States. Was there not here food for reflection on the part of the thoughtful soldier, who was about to stake everything, even life itself, upon the result of a war in which he knew the chances of success were against him? He could reason that wise and patriotic statesmanship could change the whole policy of government in less than two years.

But here comes the battle of Bull Run, in which the Federal Army was scattered to the four winds. Oh, yes, we just kneiv now that we could whip three or four to one ! How easy it was to conclude that the very best thing to do was to present a united front and, if not our independence, we could at least get liberal concessions in regard to slavery in the territories. But this is merely a reminiscence, and I am not an Heroditus.

We called the place, assigned us near Randolph, Camp Yellow Jacket. There was good reason for this, for thousands of yellow jackets were in the ground on which we proposed to make our beds and stake our horses. In a day or two we cleared the camp of these pests so that it was habitable.

Two cavalry companies ftom Memphis were in camp near iis— Logwood 's and White's. In riding near these one day I met a soldier speeding a magnificent black horse along a country road as if for exercise, and the pleasure of being astride of so fine an animal. On closer inspection, I saw it was Bedford Forrest, only a private like myself, whom I had known ten years before down in Mississippi. I had occasion afterward to see a good deal of him.

We were to be a part of Pillow's Army of Occupation, and to that end, we went aboard the steamer Ohio with orders to debark at New Madrid, Mo. Soon there came a great victory to McCulloch and Price at Oak Hill, and some folks said that we would march straight to St. Louis. We reported to General M. Jeff Thompson of the Missouri State troops, forty miles in the interior. Though Missouri was a Southern State, we soon began to feel that we were bordering on the enemy's country. We had hurriedly gone forward without our wagon train and were somewhat dependent upon the Missourians for rations. When our Captain spoke to the General in regard to our needs, he blurted out these words: "By God, Captain Neely, my men can soon furnish your men with as much beef as they want and a pile of bread as high as a tree." We got the rations. Thompson's men were armed mostly with shotguns and old-fashioned squirrel rifles. Trained to the use of firearms and largely destitute of fear, they were dangerous antagonists. The General, as I remember him, was a wiry little fellow, active as the traditional eat and a fine horseman. He was mounted on a milk-white stallion with black spots. He dashed around among his men like a boy on his first pony, and was invariably followed by his big Indian orderly, dressed largely in the garb of his tribe. These men told us much about their little combats with the "home guards," and made us feel that we were getting still nearer to real war. False alarms were frequent and afforded us plenty of material to excite our risibles when the imaginary danger had passed.

Still further out we encamped on the farm of General Watkins, who was a half brother of Henry Clay. Rations were not at hand in abundance for a day or two, but the owner of the farm donated to us a twenty-acre field in the roasting ear. Some of the boys said that Alf. Coleman ate thirty ears a day while it lasted — the same he took out for his horse. Green corn, roasted in the shuck or baked before a hot fire, is very palatable. I had learned this "down on the old plantation" in the Pee Dee eouutr}'. We really enjoyed camp life here, as it was not so full of dull routine. A lively little scout or an amusing picket incident made our daily duties a little more spicy than usual, while scarcely a man escaped being the butt of a ridiculous joke or a little "white lie." A funny little story got into camp which concerned a young man of the company, who had been enjoying a short furlough at home. The ladies tiiere, ever mindful of the welfare of the soldiers, had made up a lot of small red flannel aprons, which were said to be good for warding off disease, if worn next to the person. The young fellow had been presented with one and instructed as to its benefit, but not as to the manner of wearing it. He wore it on the outside and strutted about the town k» the great amusement of many good people. It was on this expedition that the now famous story was started on R. U. Brown. It was told by the reserve picket that Private Brown, while on post at midnight in the great swamp near Sikeston, called Nigger Head, imagined tiiat a big old owl in the distance was saying "Who, who, who are you?" Taking it for a human voice, Brown tremblingly replied "R. U. Brown, sir, a friend of yours." Dick never heard the last of this story while the war lasted, and at the Reunion in Memphis many a one of the "old boys" greeted him with the same old words that rang in his ears just forty years before. He and Coleman, afterwards sutler of the regiment, I am happy to know, are still alive in Texas. Like others, who sickened and died or met death on the firing line, they were gloriously good fellows to have in camp.

It was during our stay in ^Missouri that we made an expedition to Charleston, situated in that vast flat prairie just west of the mouth of the Ohio, which we always reverted to with the keenest pleasure. The Federal Cavalry from Bird's Point had been making almost daily visits to the town, which was strongly Southern in sentiment. This was thought to be a fine opportunity to show them "a taste of our quality, ' ' or perhaps to capture the visiting detachment. But all was quiet in the village, as the enemy had made their visit and departed. Night was at hand and we were dirty, tired and hungry. It seemed to me that the whole population went to cooking for and feeding the soldiers. This was another one of those "big eating times" that we never did forget. When we were ready to depart, even the pretty maidens would say to us, "Which ^\ill you have in your canteen, whisky, water or milk?" It was thought best not to take any risk as to snake bites in the great swamp, which we had to recross, and I think the command took w^hisky to a man. The inhabitants must have enjoyed a freedom from intoxicants for a season, for their town "had gone dry" by an immense majority. We learned after-

NOTES OF A PRIVATE. H

wards that there was a "whisky famine." We never saw Charleston again, as we very soon received orders to advance into Kentucky and take post at Columbus. We were among the first troops to reach that point. The Kentuckians seemed to be pleased with onr coming and recruiting went forward encouragingly. We pitched our tents out on the Clinton road and near the camp of the Haywood Rangers, commanded by Captain Haywood of Brownsville. This company, whose members seemed to have been reared in the saddle, had been with us from the beginning of our service, and, I may say here, that it stood by us till the end. The history of Company E is largely the history of Company D. The men of the two comipanies were brothers in arms, who could confidently rel}^ upon the valor of each other, and those now living are loving friends to this day. Through the long hard winter, or till the evacuation of Columbus, the two companies guarded the Clinton and Milburn roads. For a w^hile we reported directly to Albert Sydney Johnston. His noble personality and soldierly bearing were impressive and stamped him as a man born to command.

Chapter II. Service In Fr^e States

The reader will remember that iu closing the previous chapter I stated that Company E had been ordered to leave Missouri and take post at Columbus, Kentucky. The company was not then designated by letter, as it belonged to no regiment, but was known as the Hardeman Avengers. In company with our sturdy friends, the Haywood Rangers, afterwards Company D of the Seventli Tennessee Cavalry, we reached Columbus the first day of September, 1861, being about the first troops to occupy an advanced post among a people, who were then making a rather unsuccessful effort to play the role of neutrals. We were now in a "hog and hominy" countrv, and the soldiering was of the holidav kind. We made long marches through the Purchase and saw many evidences of Southern sympathy. Indeed, the whole population seemed to be friendly to us, as even those with Northern sympathies prudently kept quiet. Then, as now, I accorded people the right to think as they pleased, and to act upon their conviciions. Throughout the contest, I zealously held to the principle that we should not make war upon old men, women and children. In the light of this principle, I was able to enjoy to the fullest extent a ridiculous attempt at concealment of real sentiment. For instance, somewhere in the Mayfield country, the column was one day passing a farm house upon the veranda of which was sitting a corpulent old gentleman, whose adipose matter hung sufficiently low to largely cover his femurs, as he sat with his pedal extremities slightly elevated on the rude baluster. While he wildly gesticulated he lustily shouted, ^^ Hurrah for Jeff Davis and the Southern Confederacy!" At another part of the house a little girl was making strenuous efforts to haul down the stars and stripes, which doubtless was emblematic of the real sentiments of the household. The old fellow "got the horse laugh." In our peregrinations through the several counties of the Purchase it seemed to me that we were riding much to little juirpose, as the Federals ventured little beyond their lines at Paducah. I learned afterward that these exercises made us take on the ways of a soldier, and taught us valuable lessons in the bivouac. These stood us in good stead when, afterwards, we were forced to use to the best advantage very scanty resources.

In this month of September, 1861, it was learned that a force of Federals had occupied an advanced camp on Mayfield creek near Blandville. The five companies of Tennessee Cavalry having been organized into what was, for some months, known as Logwood's Battalion, were ordered to attack this force. Here we Avere to hear bullets whistle for the first time. The command seemed to be eager to enjoy the sensation of battle. As a private, I was supposed to be in profound ignorance of the "plan of campaign," but I could see enough to know that the maneuvering was for the purpose of surrounding the camp and forcing a surrender. Our company was drawn up in the woods within gunshot of the enemy, but we had no clear view of their actions. There was random firing on both sides, but there was no fixed purpose to press the fighting. Green as we were, we would have gone into that camp, had we been so ordered. There were men in that line, who afterwards, as officers and privates, became famous fighters and, in many cases, went to death on the firing line. Almost any one of Forrest's real veterans would, at a later day, have considered it a light undertaking, with the backing of five hundred such men, to have "gobbled up the whole thing" — perhaps without the firing of a gun. And yet nobody seemed to be blamed for the failure of this expedition, for we were all ignorant of real war. We had had another lesson in that which would eventually make us veterans. We had heard the buzz of bullets.

The engagement turned out to be a trifling affair, though there was some excitement in the ranks, especially about the time Mike McGrath of the Haywood Rangers had his horse shot under him and had to leave the scene mounted behind another soldier. It was not so funny then, but the little things done in the excitement gave occasion for joking when we got back to our quarters. There was a well known citizen who seemed to be acting as our guide. They called him Captain Blake. Sixteen years after that, while making an extensive trip in Texas for a well known newspaper, I found this Captain Blake holding a prominent office in the town of Granbury. Our short experience as soldiers together was then a pleasant reminiscence, but he, too, had become a veteran by coming south with the Kentucky troops and never returning to his home till after the surrender.

About this time we received into the company four Kentuckians, three of whom cut some figure as private soldiers and helped to make Company E noted for its steadiness in battle and promptness to act in emergencies. These were John Duncan, Cad Linthicum, Ranse Billington and an old fellow whom we all knew as "Old Fulton." The first three were typical young men of the Purchase, reared in the hiJls [bordering the Ohio river bottoms. They were true sportsmen in all that the term implies, but were never so busy in a game of poker, or so much interested in discussing the good points of "Forrest's sorrel" or "Treadwell's gray" that they could not, on a moment 'b notice, have mounted their own good steeds and been off at a rattling pace to an important picket post, or upon an adventurous scout. The sandy hair, the clear blue eye, the firm set jaw of Duncan — the rollicking manner, the girl-like cheeks, the merry shout in battle of Linthicum — the even temper, the great good humor, even when facing peril, of Billington, and the fine horsemanship of each made them men of mark among their comrades, while their apparent lack of fear and love of adventure won the absolute confidence of their superiors. Linthicum was wounded at Collierville, Tenn., in October, 1863, about the time that the Thirteenth Regulars with General Sherman and staff were hastily abandoning their train from Memphis to take refuge within the Federal works. Duncan was shot through both arms in the fight at Prairie Mound, Miss., where Jeffrey Forrest was killed. A few months before the surrender, these three men were transferred to Henderson's Scouts, in which they found service exactly suited to their inclinations.

Happily, they lived to return to their beloved Kentucky, where, as good citizens, they spent many years in peaceful pursuits. They have passed to the great beyond.

Well, as to "Old Fulton." I should say he had been reared in an atmosphere of gall, wormwood and vinegar. With a desperate temper and no sweetness of soul, upon the slightest provocation he would fly into a towering rage. If asked as to his age, a tart reply, interlarded with oaths, was the result. His stringy hair and long flowing beard were evidences of age. His cadaverous appearance, high cheek bones, piercing gray eyes, alert head set in a long skinny frame, and his fiery passions would have presented an interesting study to the excursionist into the fields of anthropology. This old Kentuckian had joined the Tennesseeans for the purpose, as he said, of soon killing a few Yankees. He never gratified his supreme desire, for within a few months, having, perhaps, tired of camp life, he got his discharge and set his face towards Kentucky. After his departure, we could revert with amusement to "Old Fulton's" effort to start a camp fire at Island No. 10, with wet wood. When the smoke had blinded the old man, and his patience and wind were exhausted, he leaped upon the pile of fagots and, uttering violent oaths, kicked them in every direction. This exhibition of temper was rather amusing.

About the first of October, 1861, Haywood's and Neely's companies were ordered to Camp Beauregard in Graves county to picket and scout for Bowen's brigade. This was a charming place for holiday soldiering, situated near the village of Feliciana. As the cavalry was encamped outside the infantry lines and there was little fear of attack, the discipline was sufficiently lax to permit us to draw upon the surrounding country for luxuries. These consisted of such things as old hams, chickens and "peach and honey." The boys did not neglect their opportunities. But life at Camp Beauregard was soon to be a thing of the past. The Federals were known to be making a move from Cairo. We reached Columbus just in time to witness the battle of Belmont across the river. This was the 7tk day of November. Grant's army v/as driven back to their transports. Here we saw Federal prisoners for the first time, and as many of them were wounded, we seemed to be a little nearer real war. Going into winter quarters we entered upon the monotonous duty of picketing the Milburn road. Dreary nights and weary days. Dull camp routine and nothing to excite interest. But there was to be a change. The news that Fort Donelson had fallen came in the last days of February. The excitement meant that we were leaving Kentucky. With our friends, the Rangers, we were ordered to Island No. 10. Here our hardships increased, as we were poorly supplied with tents and cold rains were falling. The gunboats were replying to our hea\y guns, but to little purpose, as the range was poor. They would send an occasional shot clear into the timber, and there was no telling when one might land right in our camp. Our nervousness on this account soon wore off, as we were exposed thus for seventeen days. In the meantime, the river rapidly rose and there was a rushing current through Reelfoot Lake in our rear. This put us on an island. I know that our captain wished to be ordered to the main land. The order came, but there was great fear that it would be countermanded, as Mackall was just superseding McCown, who had given the order. There was hot haste to get beyond the reach of orders. After floundering around for a day in trying to reach a steamer, which it was said would be available in the back water, we concluded that our only resource was to reach a dry spot on the lake shore and collect a few old flatboats and to reach the east side. In making our way to the lake we found much of the back water up to the saddle skirts. We readily secured one old rickety boat, which would carry five men with their horses and accoutrements. As the lake here was

20 NOTES OF A PER^ITE.

five miles wide, and the water still rising, our crossing would surely be slow and perilous. At this juncture, Tom Joyner. George Bradford and I rode five miles along shore, secured a boat, and having led our horses aboard, pulled for the camp. Everything went well Avith the ten men and ten horses till we were "half seas over." Then an adverse wind struck our boat, while the other boat, already much in advance seemed to glide over the water. It was exasperating, but we ''hove to" by the side of a friendly raft of logs and awaited more propitious breezes or a lucky calm. We were fortunate in reaching land before nightfall and in getting a good supper at a farm house. But next morning the boats must be carried over that stretch of water in order to rescue our fellow soldiers from an impending peril. When we reached the camp only a detail had been left there to inform us that the rest of the command had gone aboard of a steamer in the back water, which was on its way to Randolph. One time happy they I Thrice and four times happy we ! We had escaped the perils of the deep waters and the terrors of a Northern prison. Some of us had had a twentymile ride on Reelfoot. but strenuous effort had been rewarded.

We had a long ride to Bolivar, and reached home just in time to hear the guns at Shiloh. Four companics of infantry, one of artillery and one of cavalry, recruited in Hardeman county, were in that battle. Harrowing rumors of our losses came thick and fast, and little else was discussed. The death of Johnston and the retreat of the army seemed to us like a crushing defeat. Stragglers and wounded men from the army began to pass through the country and spread the news of the disaster. Then came the news that Island No. 10 had surrendered. It was a time for solemn thought — for quiet deliberation. The holding of the great river became now^ a doubtful proposition. This involved the abandonment of West Tennessee. A few of our men even now went to their homes to stay. The faithful set about reorganizing the company, which was to await orders. We were really making a fresh start for the war under discouraging circumstances. Our sacred honor and plighted faith to our state were involved. It was no time for faint hearts. Death before dishonor seemed to be the prevailing sentiment and when we got on the move, the old time spirit returned.