With Sherman to the sea; a boy's story of General Sherman's famous march and capture of Savannah

Front matter

o 0 X hn* A 0

* > O y fi t ^

^ \ rvJ C' ^' SJ ** Q • r^A

Foreword

I have just had brought to my attention a story concerning the siege of Vicksburg, which was written by Richard J. Studley, of the 46th Maine Volunteers, who hailed from Malden, in that State, and, as may be supposed, am flattered by his description of myself.

It is true that I was able to render him no slight assistance on two occasions when he stood in sore need of a friend inside the Confederate lines, but there is a question in my mind as to whether he did not magnify the services, for the part which I played was not different from that which any lad would have acted toward another of about his own age under similar circumstances.

To me Dick’s story was most entertaining, bringing back to memory as it did many comparatively trifling details which had been forgotten by me, and enabling me to live over again those days when all the world was before us, to be conquered for our special benefit.

That which surprised me greatly in the tale was that he brought it to a close with the capture of Vicksburg, for surely we were thrown much in each other’s company, owing to the varying tide of war, until that famous march of Sherman’s to the sea was ended with the capture of Savannah, and stood side 3 by side more than once when it seemed certain death must come speedily to both.

A good friend was and is Dick Studley, one on whom a fellow can depend for backing, however great the danger, and with whom it is pleasant to be, however distressful the circumstances.

It is not in my mind that I can make of our adventures such a tale as did Dick, when he told the story of being with Grant at Vicksburg, but it should be possible for me to set down what he said and did while I was with him ; for I would have the lad’s work during the long, cruel war put into such shape that all may know him for the brave, true-hearted chap that he is. Therefore I count on trying to write of what was done by both of us during that famous march to the sea, when we of the South saw each day the Cause growing weaker and weaker, and knowing that, despite all efforts, it must soon end in dire disaster to us who had struggled to the best of our ability.

Should I fail in my purpose, let it be borne in mind that I made the attempt only in order that the little lad from Maine, who was my friend at the time we were enemies, may have the credit due him and which he was too modest to claim for himself.

Robert Yardley.

Chapter I Howell Cobb's Plantation

It was about tbe middle of November, in the year 1864, when I, Robert Yardley, lieutenant Company B, 98th Mississippi, C. S. A., was discharged from the hospital at Milledgeville, in the State of Georgia, with a furlough of thirty days, during which time the physicians believed I might be able to regain the strength lost during an illness which was more vexatious than dangerous.

My military career in the Confederate Army had been begun eighteen months previous, when I enlisted at Vicksburg, being in a certain degree forced into the service, although not quite sixteen years of age, because of having given aid to a Yankee lad by the name of Dick Studley, thereby arousing suspicions that I was not so entirely devoted to the Cause as a Southern-bred boy should have been.

My friends knew full well that I was true to the Confederacy, and those best acquainted with all the details of the affair understand that no blame could be attached to me for what I then did. It is not my purpose to make any explanation of the matter here ;

it is sufficient to say that on a certain night, when the Federal gunboats and transports ran past the batteries at Vicksburg, I came across a small lad who had swum ashore from the wreck of the Henry Clay, and, instead of delivering him up to the authorities as a prisoner of war, took him to the cave in which I was then living.

He was a year my junior, a drummer-boy in a regiment from Maine, and surely there was no wrong done the Confederacy when I did what I might to save him needless suffering; but the final result was that it seemingly became necessary for me to enlist. Whether I have since done my full duty in the army is shown by the fact that I now hold a commission as lieutenant, although my seventeenth birthday has but just passed.

General Howell Cobb is my mother’s cousin, and, his plantation being near Milledgeville, I went there to recruit my strength, being so feeble that only with difficulty could I walk half a mile.

Atlanta had been occupied by the enemy under General Sherman, but we of Georgia had no idea the Federal Army would come further down the State, consequently I believed myself far removed from scenes of hostilities until the day when the word came that the Yankees were moving southward.

Even then we all believed Columbia or Augusta was the point at which a blow was to be struck, although General Cobb took the precaution of moving the most valuable of his household goods, together with the more likely slaves, to Milledgeville, believing the property would be more safe there than on the plantation, where were none but old negroes to look after it.

As for me, I preferred to remain in the country.

There were people enough left on the place to wait upon me, and I had the entire house to myself, which was much to my liking.

The blow came suddenly, like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. Three days had passed without my having had any news concerning either army, and I was in the stable seeing to it that the old groom attended properly to my favorite horse, when two men in faded blue uniforms, and having all the earmarks of stragglers, entered the building swaggeringly.

“Where did you come from?” I asked, believing them to be some of our own people, for it was not unusual at this time to see Confederates wearing Yankee uniforms which had been taken from prisoners.

“We’re from Uncle Billy’s army, an’ are lookin’ for rations, horses, cattle or any blessed thing that may come in handy,” one of the men replied as he pulled open the mare’s mouth to see her teeth.

“Uncle Billy !” I repeated angrily. “What do you mean by speaking so disrespectfully? Who is your commander ?”

“General William T. Sherman,” and the fellow grinned as if he had begun to understand that I was in ignorance concerning the movements of the Federal forces. “Didn’t you know we was takin’ a little trip for our health through Georgia?”

Even then I did not fully realize all the facts, but asked like a simpleton:

“Where is General Sherman’s army ? Has it left Atlanta ?”

“Wa’al, I reckon it has, seein’s how we foragers can’t be more’n two miles ahead of the advance guard.”

“Two miles !” I repeated as if stupefied. “Are the Yankees cornin’ this way ?”

“I reckon the whole force will camp hereabouts this afternoon, seein’s how this ’ere place is about the limit of the day’s work. That’s a likely lookin’ mare, an’ I guess you’ll be sorry to part with her ?”

I was literally stunned by the statement that a Federal army was so near at hand, and, without giving heed to my words, replied :

“There is no question of my partin’ with. her. I don’t intend to give her up.”

“When you Johnnies take prisoners do you allow ’em to keep their saddle-hosses ?” the man asked with a leer as he leveled his musket at my head, while the other fellow stood at the door of the stable as if to prevent escape.

Then it was that I realized fully the misfortune which had overtaken me. While I lounged around the plantation, recruiting my strength in the belief that I could soon be able to strike another blow for the Cause, the enemy had been advancing until the chances were that I would soon be shut up in a Northern prison, there to remain eating my heart out while those with whom I had marched shoulder to shoulder were winning laurels for themselves.

These thoughts, which passed through my mind as does a flash of lightning across the dark sky, nerved me to do that which a few seconds previous I would have believed impossible.

At my side a hay-fork stood against the wall. Half turning as if to go to the rear of the stable, I seized the fork, and, having thus put the soldier off his guard ever so slightly, I leaped upon him.

With the awkward weapon I struck down the man’s musket and almost at the same instant was on the mare’s back. The old groom, whether in order to aid me or because of being so bewildered by the suddenness of my attack as not to be wholly conscious of what he did, unloosed the halter from the ring, and before the enemy had time to put forth a hand I was riding at full speed at right angles with the main road.

A bullet whistled past my head. Five seconds later came another, and then I knew there was nothing more to fear from the soldiers’ guns until they could be reloaded, and by that time I should be beyond range.

Unfortunately I had not strayed very far from the house since my arrival, therefore was wholly in ignorance of the surrounding country, but I had a dim idea that my horse was taking me directly toward a swamp which extended four or five miles on either side of the small creek which marked the western boundary of the plantation.

With two of the enemy in the stabl? and an army on the highway at the north and northwest, I had no choice of roads, but must ride at a venture in the hope that it might be possible to find a path at the edge of the swamp, leading in the direction of Milledgeville.

Before I had fairly shut out the plantation buildings from view it was possible to hear, far in the distance, that which told of the approach of the army, and I knew that the ragged men in blue who spoke of their commander as “Uncle Billy” had told me no more than the truth.

Then suddenly we were come to the end of our road, the mare and I having arrived at the edge of the swamp. It was evident we could go no further in this direction, or even southward, save by retracing our steps, and I sat gazing at the barrier before me, wherein most likely many a slave had gone to his death while seeking, as I was, a road to freedom.

“I might as well have remained in the stable an’ taken matters comfortably, since there seems nothin* for it save to count myself a prisoner to the Yankees at the very time when the Confederacy needs the services of every man and boy within the lines,” I said half to myself, wondering meanwhile if it would not be as well to ride back and surrender quietly.

Then came a Ipw, sharp command from the rear:

“Hands up, an’ be quick about it !”

It goes without saying that I obeyed on the instant, for in those days men were not slow to pull the trigger when they had a living target.

“I had an idea you couldn’t get very far in this direction, an’ it seems that our maps are mighty near correct,” the same voice, which had in it a familiar ring, cried, and, turning suddenly, I saw, mounted on a powerful iron-gray horse, one clad in the uniform of a lieutenant whom I believed I had met before.

“You an’ I seem to be fortunate in capturin’ each other,” I said with as much of cheeriness in my tone as could be assumed on the instant.

“Who — what Why, it’s Bob Yardley!”

“The very same, Dick Studley, an’ under almost any other circumstances I’d be mighty glad to see you.”

“\*)u are glad now,” the lad cried laughingly as he leaped from the horse to take both my hands in his. “When the foragers told me that a Johnnie had ridden down this way, T little guessed who it was I proposed to capture. But I am glad to see you again, Bob Yardley ! What’s the matter ? Have you been wounded ?”

“Doin’ time in the hospital just when I was most needed, an’ came out to General Cobb’s plantation to pick up a little more strength before goin’ back to the regiment. So you’re with Sherman’s army, eh ? And a lieutenant ?”

“Even as you are, Bob. We got hold of some Confederate newspapers while in Atlanta, an’ I learned by them that you had been promoted. Say, this looks like a big country while you study the maps, but it seems small when you think how often you an’ I have met accidentally. Haven’t you yet come to believe that yours is a Lost Cause ?”

“We’re not whipped yet, Dick, even though your people have given us some mighty hard knocks,

an’ But I’m not goin’ to talk either politics or

war just now. The question is, what are you countin’ on doin’ with me?”

“I declare I’d clean forgotten that you are my prisoner. Give me your parole, an’ I’ll see that you’re made comfortable an’ as happy as can be expected. We’ll talk over the ”

“Never a parole out of me, Dick. I’d rather take the chances of goin’ to a Yankee prison, as I reckon will be the case, than give over all power of makin’ a break if I see an openin’.”

“Now look here, Bob, you are foolish to keep an eye out for anything of that kind. I wish it was possible for me to make you understand that the Confederate who is taken prisoner now should consider himself a mighty fortunate chap, for there is no longer any show of his winnin’.”

“But you can’t make me believe anything of the kind, Dick Studley. Just at this time you of Sherman’s army are puffed up a good bit because of the success which has attended the scheme of marchin’ through Georgia. This State is but a small portion of the Confederacy, an’ you will find that while gainin’ ground here you are losin’ it elsewhere. No, no, my boy, I won’t give you my parole.”

I could see that this refusal of mine cut the lad from Maine not a little. I flattered myself that acting the part of host toward me would give him as much pleasure as I would have in accepting his hospitality, but I was not minded to remain in his company any longer than might be absolutely necessary. Neither could he have persuaded me, so blind was I at the time, that our cause was in the desperate condition which I afterward knew to be the case.

Not only was he hurt because of my refusal, but disappointed and placed in an awkward position, as I could well understand. When I refused to give my parole it became necessary for him to hold me close prisoner, becoming responsible for my safe keeping, unless he was willing to turn me over to the care of strangers, and this I knew would have been far from agreeable to him.

“I do not know what to do with you, Bob,” he said after remaining silent while one might have counted ten. “There is really no chance for you to escape, an’ yet, in order to look after your comfort, I must give my word that you do not give us the slip.”

“Better throw it up as a bad bargain, Dick, an’ turn me over to the squad in charge of the prisoners, for I fancy you must have taken more than one since leavin’ Atlanta.”

“I won’t do it, if for no other reason than because I remember the day in Vicksburg when you took so many chances rather than turn me into the pen,” he replied thoughtfully and added as a sudden thought came to him, “Give me your parole until we shall have entered Milledgeville, say forty-eight hours, an’ perhaps in the meantime we will be able to cook up some kind of a scheme, thereby givin’ Uncle Rube a chance to spread himself.”

“Is he here ?” I cried, remembering with pleasure the self-opinionated old farmer who believed that he, better than anybody else, was able to lead the Federal arms to victory.

“Aye, that he is,” Dick replied with a laugh, “an’ so are all the others of our detachment whom you know except poor ’Siah Fernald, who went home from Vicksburg with one leg.”

Keen though I was to rejoin my comrades in the field, the desire to meet these odd people from Maine, who had been such very good friends of mine when I had previously been a prisoner in the hands of the Federals, was so great that I could not well resist the temptation.

During the short time Dick and I had been together I remembered having heard that General Wheeler, with a division of cavalry, should be somewhere in the vicinity, and provided I could retain possession of the mare when I gave the Yankees the slip, it was more than possible I would be able to find him.

By remaining with the Union forces forty-eight hours there was a good chance I could learn something more regarding his whereabouts, for General Sherman’s scouts, if not a portion of his command, must certainly have come in touch with the troopers.

Therefore it was that I said with but little show of hesitation :

“I will do as you propose, Dick. Durin’ the next forty-eight hours you have my parole, but now the question is whether your commander will allow you to keep as a camp pet a Johnnie who counts on givin’ you the slip at the first opportunity after his parole has expired.”

“I am countin’ that Major Hartley will do the trick for me,” Dick replied with a laugh. “He should be favorably inclined toward you.”

“It surely stands him in hand to do me a favor if he can,” I said, thinking somewhat bitterly of how the major had urged me to do that which I had now become convinced was unbecoming a Confederate soldier.

We chatted about the past, Dick and I, referring again and again to that day at Vicksburg when I had acted the host and Uncle Rube, or Corporal Reuben Smart, to speak of him more respectfully, provided the food.

Both of us were so deeply interested in this recalling of the past as to be wholly unmindful of the flight of time until the forager who had attempted to take me prisoner in the stable came up breathless as if from rapid running.

“Oh, you are all right, are you, lieutenant?” he cried in a tone of relief “I had begun to think the Johnnie might have got the best of you, but it kinder looks as if you was old chums,” he added, gazing in surprise first at one and then the other.

“An’ so we are,” Dick replied with a laugh. “It was really my turn to capture Lieutenant Yardley because of his havin’ taken me prisoner when the 46th was nearabout Vicksburg.” Then to me the lad added, “Come on, Bob ; it’s time I reported.”

Leading our horses, we walked back toward the plantation buildings, where I stopped to get my saddie and bridle, and then it was that I understood how completely General Sherman was devastating the country through which he marched.

Everywhere within the lines of the encampment were huge fires built of fence-rails and lumber torn from the buildings, while the foragers were ransacking corn-cribs, barns and even the cellar of the dwelling, stowing in their wagons large quantities of corn, beans, peanuts and molasses, for General Cobb did not have time to carry away any save the most valuable of his belongings.

In one of the larger log cabins of the plantation, that which had been occupied by the overseer, General Sherman’s headquarters was established, and from the number of horses tethered nearabout it seemed to me that these Yankee officers must have gathered in for personal use all the blooded stock to be found on their line of march.

While I stood at a respectful distance holding the horses Dick went in search of Major Hartley, and a full half hour elapsed before he returned with a look of satisfaction on his face which told that the mission had not been in vain.

“Now we’ll find the 46th, Bob, an’ see what Uncle Rube’s ‘detachment’ has on hand in the way of provisions. We’re livin’ high, turnin’ up our noses at bacon an’ hardtack, because thus far there has been no lack of chickens, fresh pork, sweet potatoes an’ such other luxuries as are to be found in Georgia.”

“In other words, you are eatin’ us out of house an’ home, eh?” I said in what I intended should be a cheery tone, but my heart was filled with bitterness as I saw everywhere around the invaders gorging themselves with stores which were sadly needed by our people.

1G WITH SHERMAN TO THE SEA

Amid such an army as that under General Sherman’s command it was not a simple matter to find the location of a single regiment, and when I came to learn the strength of this force which was marching through the most populous and fertile portion of the State, I began to have my first doubts as to the possibility of checking the invasion.

Near to 63,000 men, with sixty-five guns, each piece, caisson and forge drawn by four teams of horses; 2,500 wagons with a team of six mules to each, and 600 ambulances each with two horses. This train, the wagons loaded heavily with food and stores of every kind, together with the vast number of men, made up such an encampment as seemed enormous for what was, to my mind, hardly more than a raid.

While in the hospital I had heard that Sherman had met with reverse after reverse until his men were in a most pitiable condition, so far as regarded food and clothing, and therefore it had seemed to me absolutely certain that before the command got very far from Atlanta our people would succeed in bagging the entire army, but now I found quite the opposite state of affairs, and, as I have said, began to have doubts as to whether the Yankees were as impoverished as we had been made to believe. I even questioned whether our leaders did not intentionally misrepresent the true condition of the enemy.

However, I did not propose to go into any such question when I sat down to tell what I know concerning the part Dick Studley took in this march of Sherman’s, and therefore, however bitter I may feel while thus going back in memory to those days, it shall be my aim to put aside personal grief and prejudices.

Dick finally succeeded in finding his regiment, and then it was I found it difficult to repress tears of gratitude, so hearty was the welcome which these men from Maine gave me. One would have said I was their best friend as they crowded around with words of joy and friendship, much to the surprise of their comrades who had never seen me, for of a verity it must have seemed strange that a party of soldiers in blue should receive so warmly one of the opposing force.

There was Uncle Reuben Smart, corporal of Company G, a most peculiar old man, whose good traits I hope I shall be able to picture in such fashion that the reader may feel acquainted with him ; Stephen Stubbs, a small soldier who had left his work of house-painting to take up arms against us of the South; Jim Haley, who came from Meddy hemps, and Isaiah Rich, who claimed Mattawamkeag as his home, a short, jolly-looking fellow, quite the reverse of what one would fancy a soldier should be.

Those who have read Dick Studley’s story concerning his adventures while with Grant at Vicksburg can well fancy what we talked about and understand why it seemed necessary to ask many questions concerning each other.

“I’ve had you in mind the past two days, an’ that’s a sure sign I was goin’ to come across you sooner or later,” Uncle Rube said thoughtfully. “Though how it was to be brought about while we was on this ’ere junketin’ trip was more’n I could make out,” he added, and Steve Stubbs interrupted him by suggesting that if the “detachment” were to have some of General Cobb’s chickens broiled for supper it was time to set about cooking them.

“So you still hold yourselves as a separate squad ?”

I said laughingly, remembering full well the time when Uncle Rube claimed that his “detachment” was an organization separate and distinct from any company, regiment or corps.

“That we do, my boy, an’ it’s our right, seein’s how we’ve taken on ourselves — meanin’ we folks from Malden who enlisted in the 46th — the most of the work that has been done since we’ve been in the army.”

“Do you think it necessary to give General Sherman as many points as you believed General Grant needed?” I asked, now forgetting my own troubles in the delight which was mine at being with these peculiar but right jolly people from Maine.

“Well, you see, it’s like this,” the old man replied in an argumentative tone. “Uncle Billy is kinder keepin’ his crowd closer together than General Grant did, an’ it stands to reason he has to, seein’s how there’s like to be a lot of you Johnnies snoopin’ ’round to gather us in if we stray very far from the main army. Consequently I don’t feel called upon to say so much about his doin’s as I did when it looked like General Grant had lost a good many of his folks, an’ us among the rest. Mind you, lad, I ain’t sayin’ but that if I had the handlin’ of this ’ere army I would put ’em through straighter an’ quicker than General Sherman’s doin’, it.”

“But what about the chickens?” Steve Stubbs squeaked. “Are you goin’ to have ’em or ain’t you ?”

“Look here, Stephen,” and now Uncle Rube spoke sharply. “It strikes me that after I’ve foraged ’round to get all the luxuries of the land, you might turn to an’ cook ’em without makin’ so much talk. You’ll never be the right kind of a soldier, Steve, till you get inter the way of humpin’ yourself right up to work. Tend to the chickens, an* I reckon Isaiah Rich better look after Bob Yardley’s hoss. He can take Lieutenant Dick’s, too, an’ we’ll kinder keep our belongings together, so to speak, instead of mixin’ ’em up with the rest of Company G’s property.”

To me the oddest thing about this assumption of authority by the old man whose rank was only that of a corporal was the cheerfulness and promptness with which his unauthorized orders were obeyed by those who claimed membership in the “detachment.”

Steve Stubbs set about dressing the chickens which had been confiscated, while Isaiah Rich tethered the horses near at hand and Jim Haley went to the commissary wagons for hay and grain.

It was a family party, and for the time being I, an enemy, had become a welcome member of it.

Chapter II Miixedgeville

A merry evening did Uncle Rube’s detachment make of it, really seeming to think I had cause for gratitude because of having been made prisoner, and while I joined in so far as might be with their mirth, my ears were open wide for any word which would give me information such as was necessary if I would escape.

Although bound by my parole to remain with the army during eight and forty hours, I could not prevent my thoughts from straying into the future as I considered this plan or that for joining General Wheeler’s command, already beginning to believe I had been foolish in agreeing to make no move toward escape even for the short time set.

Uncle Rube was explaining to me just how he could capture every Confederate in the field and thus put an end to the war in a twinkling, when Major Hartley came up to greet me, and once more I had proof that the Yankees did not look upon us of the South as personal enemies.

The major, like the members of the “detachment,” spoke as if I had been remarkably fortunate because of having been taken prisoner at this particular time, and advised me to give my parole for an indefinite period, assuring me that the Confederacy was in the “last ditch.”

As a matter of course I turned a deaf ear to his predictions, believing he had been deceived by his superiors, for I felt certain he would not deliberately tell a falsehood, particularly when all to be gained by it was my own comfort and well-being. He had the permission of the commander for me to remain on parole until the army left Milledgeville, if indeed it ever arrived there, but then I must be turned over as a prisoner of war if I still entertained an idea of trying to escape.