Chapter IV: Fourth Year of the War (2)

I found our command near Mount Jackson, when I returned to the army. Shortly after I got there the Yankee cavalry made a raid up to Mt. Jackson. Our artillery took a position on Rude’s Hill and fired across Meam’s Bottoms at the enemy’s artillery, stationed on the heights at Mt. Jackson. Levi Wheat and a young man named Scott, of Co. A., Bedford Co., were killed here. Our cavalry made a charge and the enemy fled. A few of our men were killed, but more of the Yankees. Our artillery did the most of the damage.

We remained at Mt. Jackson until after Xmas. There was a heavy guard put around the camp to keep any of the soldiers from going away, but as the Shenandoah was considerably swollen, no guard was put there, thinking no one could cross.

Geo. Shaver and I thought it would be a good chance for us to cross the river and go to Lutheran preaching Xmas eve. So just after roll call, we swam the river on our horses, but got wet above our knees, and went on to preaching. We went to a Mr. Bear’s first, who was a connection or acquaintance of Shaver’s and took the young ladies to church, staying until after mid-night. It was a kind of watch service. We took the young ladies home and Mrs. Bear gave us a fine roasted turkey tied up in a sack. She told us not to open it until we got back to camp, and you can imagine the delight of all the boys when that sack was opened. We got back to camp alright and went to bed and some of the boys of our own mess didn’t know we had been out until we showed them our turkey. The next day being Xmas, a number of boxes was sent to us by the citizens, which was greatly enjoyed by all.

In a short time we broke camp and crossed one of the Alleghany Ranges and went into Hardy Co. As Sheridan had burned and destroyed so much in the Valley, we went out in order to make our own living the best way we could. Twenty-five days’ rations of salt was given to us when we left and that was all we had. No bread, meat, or anything. Of course, we had to steal everything we ate, for we had no money to buy any thing with. Fitz Lee’s whole division went on this trip. The road around the mountain was very winding and some of the boys set out fire along the road as we went up and as they reached the foot, on the other side, set that. The fire rushed up from both sides until it reached the top, and those of us farther back, when we reached the top, could enjoy the spectacle. It was beautiful, we all thought, especially as it was doing no one any harm.

We were most of the day in crossing and we found a beautiful little valley where no one seemed to have been before, to molest the peace and quietude. We hadn’t had anything to eat all day, and shortly after we went into camp, a sheep ran through, and John Sears and I, started after him. He ran down into a little cut, where the cattle had been going to water, and Wm. and Geo. Bowyer, two of my mess mates, happened to be coming up this cut, so we soon hemmed and caught the sheep. In a very short time we had it dressed and in our frying pans. After filling our pans we divided the rest out among the other men nearest to us. Directly one of our lieutenants came to our tent and said he saw a sheep pass a little while ago and he guessed some of us had better try to get it, that the men ought to have food. I told him to sit down a few minutes and eat supper with us. He was surprised when I said supper. He said: “Where did you get anything for supper?” Then I told him of his sheep he thought of getting, that we had it in our frying pans and it would soon be done. We sliced it very thin and beat it a little like steak. It was very fat and fried itself nicely. It was very cold weather and before we got to camp some of us had relieved the citizens of some of their bee gums. They were all excitement as the army would pass and some of us would just drop out of ranks and get the bee gums, while the citizens were watching the others ride by. The bees would fly out at first, but would soon get so chilled that they would fall to the ground. So we had honey, mutton and Potomac river water, for supper, but no bread. We called it the land of mutton and honey, instead of the Land of Canaan, that flowed with milk and honey.

We had tents with us and would build up big log fires, and sleep with our feet near the fires, so were very comfortable, despite the freezing cold weather. Each morning some men were sent out to locate another place to camp, as we only stayed a day and night at one place. In this way we kept clear of bush-whackers, and it made it easier on the citizens feeding us. No one would feel the loss, so much, of what we would steal from him.

We went into a beautiful grove the second night and the whole division camped on a level, so that we could see from one end of the line of tents to the other. We kept out pickets and camp guards all night, and then a watchman was kept at a tent called the “guard-house,” also. It fell to my lot to stay at the guard-house this second night. It had gotten warmer in the eve and some of the men didn’t raise their tents, just spread them out and laid on them and spread their blankets over them. When daylight came, I called the bugler and told him to get up and look. A four or five inch snow had fallen and the whole army was sound asleep and the men covered up with snow. It had kept them so warm that they were sleeping unusually well. I told him to blow the bugle and we’d see a sight similar to the resurrection, when they would rise from their snowy mounds. When the bugle sounded the men began trying to get up and as the blankets were lifted the snow just poured in their faces. Well, then you’d think of anything but the resurrection, at hearing the Sunday School words, we heard. It was certainly laughable to see and hear them. While I was on guard some of the other boys had cooked a lot of pork that we had gotten the day before, so we had a good breakfast of pork and corn bread. We had made a miller divide his meal with us and I’ll tell you, we relished it that snowy morning.

We had left the Potomac now and wasn’t near any stream, so we needed water. It had quit snowing by daylight and the wind was coming from the north and it turned very much colder. I told the boys I would take the canteens and thought I’d find water soon, of course, but instead, I went a half mile or so before I found a little stream in the woods. I kicked the snow away and found about six inches of ice under that, so I had to cut that away with my pocket knife. I had to get a place large enough to sink the canteen to fill it. I kept my gloves on and made it alright until I went to fill the 8 canteens. I took my gloves off then, as I had to put my hands in the water and sink the canteen. I started back with the 8 canteens around my neck and shoulders, and as I had stayed a good while, Henry Ballard started on the hunt for me. I’d been up all night and hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, so I guess that made the cold effect me more. Just as Henry met me, following my tracks in the snow, I fell in a dead faint, he said. He called back to the other boys, and Wm. Bowyer came immediately, but I had revived again by the time he got to me. I was as sick as I could be, though. They carried the canteens and helped me back to camp and went for Dr. Shackleford. He said to get whiskey, that I was nearly frozen, but nobody had any. I tried to always keep some for sickness, but happened not to have any then. He told the boys then to get some warm lard, and he gave me a cup, nearly a pint, of that warm lard. It was a dose, but I guess it was what pulled me through. In less than an hour I felt so much better that I helped the boys eat their pork and corn bread.

We moved through the snow and cold again that day, to a nice hickory grove, near the Potomac again, so we’d have no scarcity of water, the small streams all being frozen. Some of the boys began cutting down trees for our fires and others to foraging for food. I remembered of seeing a big iron kettle about a mile behind us, that I thought would be so good to scald hogs and cook a whole one in. So Chas. Cahoon, John Sears and myself, went back to get the kettle, but found it filled with ice. We carried it a very short distance from the house and raked the snow away and made a fire in a lot of leaves and melted the ice, so that it would slip out of the kettle, and took it on to camp. After going a short distance, I told the boys we’d better try to get a hog, too, for fear the other boys hadn’t found one. I noticed a path, that evening, in passing along the road, where hogs had been going to water in the snow, and when we got to it, we followed it right to their bed. It was right dark and we couldn’t see them very well, especially the white ones. But there was one old black fellow and I shot him, but he just squealed and ran down this path to the river. We followed him and he ran out on the ice a little way and we heard him scuffling and followed on after him and found he was about dead. We cut his throat and Cahoon carried him back to camp and Sears and I carried the kettle.

Directly after we got into camp, our honey battallion came. Geo. Nininger, James Brownlee, Peter Burger, Thomas Carper and Abraham Moody, formed this crowd. They brought in five gums and I helped to unload it. When I got to the fourth man, I thought he had an extra good gum of honey and to our amazement, we found it was nearly filled with ashes. We teased the boys good for their mistake. We soon prised the tops off and it was the finest lot of honey I ever saw, I believe. I told the boys we must try to invent some way to carry some of it to our next camp, and as I had six new home-made towels with me, that mother had given me the last time I was at home, we decided to sew them up and strain the honey out of the comb and put it in our canteens. We soon had nearly a dozen canteens filled with strained honey. It strained nicely by the hot log fires. Wm. Bowyer had assorted the honey and we only strained the nice white comb. The boys ate a lot of the dark comb while we were working with it, and Chas. Cahoon, especially. There was a lot of bee bread in the dark comb, of course, and Charles said his father told him honey wouldn’t make you sick at all, if you ate plenty of that bee bread. But Charles hadn’t been through eating long until he began getting sick and drunk, and said to some of us, that he was going to walk out away from the fire and see if he wouldn’t feel better. Well, he got up and walked right through the fire. He went so rapidly that his clothing didn’t catch, but his eye-brows and whiskers were well scorched. I told the boys that either Shadrack, Meshac or Abednago, were with us, I knew, for they were the only persons who ever went through fire unharmed. We all had to laugh, of course, and all he said was: “Boys, I’d give a thousand dollars if Bowyer would just get sick.” We had some dressed pork on hand when we went into camp, and some of the boys put it on to cook and by the time we got through straining our honey, the pork was done, so we ate supper about mid-night or 2 o’clock in the morning. Some of the other boys had dressed the hog we had brought in and as soon as we ate, we put it on to have ready for breakfast.

We heard there was a garrison of men at Moore Field, about 30 miles from where we were, and some of our boys were sent over to capture them. They were paroled, when captured, and allowed to return home until exchanged.

When we moved camp next, we stopped in a nice piece of level land, just where a creek ran into the Potomac. We were near the head of the Potomac, so it wasn’t a very large stream. The man who owned the land, lived near in a fine dwelling and had plenty of everything around him. Col. Munford sent Capt. Cary Breckinridge, the ordinance Serg., Morris Guggenheimer, and Beverly Whittle and myself, down to the house to protect the house and its inmates. This was always done, if the citizens asked for protection.

We had saved the leaf fat from the fat sheep and cattle, until we had nearly a 2-bushel sack full. I thought this would be a good time to render it into tallow, so I took it down to the house and got one of the ladies to help me, and in a little while I had more than a bushel of tallow, moulded in maple sugar moulds. We were in a regular maple sugar country. All the people had big kettles and regular equipments for making it. We were too early for the season, but we got some that was left from the year before. We kept our tallow to use about making gravy or putting in our bread, and I ate it sometimes, if I got too awfully hungry. The other boys couldn’t stand to eat it, but I could eat anything then, rather than starve.

When we left this camp, thirty of us were sent to Buck Horn Mill, to hold any meal or flour they might have, until the command came. There were dozens of pairs of buck horns tacked on the mill. The country abounded in deer. We found very little in the mill, and we hadn’t been there long, until one of our companies came after us, to get what was in the mill, and brought a dispatch telling us to go to the top of Droop Mountain and go on picket duty on the Parkersburg and Harrisonburg road.

We got there about sun-down, and asked a man living there, if he could give us provision and keep the men, while not on duty. He was in sympathy with the South and did all he could for our comfort. I went out on the first watch and when my 2 hours were out, I came back and asked the man why, did he suppose, my horse was so restless when I was out, that I didn’t see anything. He said it was deer that she saw or smelt. He said they were there by the dozens. One of our men shot one, while up there. We saw the tracks everywhere the next morning, but they had all gone back to the woods.

The next day we went on farther toward Highland Co. Our next stop was near a place called Franklin and some of the officers had some Confederate money and they bought a few of the beautiful cattle and sent them home.

We passed a stillhouse on our next move and all the boys got some whiskey. That night, after the majority of us were asleep, we heard some one coming along shouting and singing, and it proved to be Col. Breckinridge’s colored waiting boy, Griffin Hawkins, just drunk enough to be “mouthy.” I said, Griff, is that you? He said: “Yes Sir. Hurrah for you.” Then he began calling the roll: “Ammen, Marcus; Bowyer, G. F.; Bowyer, Wm.; Cahoon, C. C.,” and on until he called us all. Then he said: “Geneman, you is de bravest men we is got. We’s goin’ to drive dem d—d Yankees clear away, presently, and den I’s gwine home to see my Hannah Jane. I’s gwine to tell her:

‘Roses is red,
Violets is blue,
Sugar am sweet
And so is you.’

Den she’ll love and I knows it.” We told him he was drunk and to go on to bed, but he said: “No sir, I’s as sober as a judge. I knows every geneman in dat tent.” Then he would call the roll again. Chas. Cahoon had a nice horse, but it had a crooked tail and Chas. Would get very mad when we teased him about it. Abe Moody had just been put on the ambulance corps and we teased him and told him he wanted to shun fighting, Griff knew all these jokes and remembered them when drunk. He said then: “I knows you all and de kind of horse you rides. Dar’s Peck R. H., did ride de flying artillery, until he flew so fast he got wounded, and now he rides de grizzly gray. Ammen Marcus, rides de roach-back, wid a hump on his back like a camel. Cahoon Chas., rides de fine bay mare, Rhody, but watch dat crooked tail. Dat horse Dr. said to tie the tail to the saddle gurf, and she’d tote it straight. But I say, tie a big rock to de tail for a sinker and I bet she’d tote it straight den.” By this time all the boys were awake and everybody roaring and laughing. He finished his foolishness by saying: “I’s gwine to git on de colonel’s horse and blow dat bugle and call out the 2nd Va. Cavalry and run dem d——d yankees clean across de Potomac. If dey don’t git out it dey’s lookout, and nobody cares, cause it aint our fault. I knows we’ll run ’em off, if the ambulance corps will jes’ keep up. (Then we had the laugh on Moody.) Geneman dis niggar is jes’ as stout as Sampson. I could pull one of des trees up by de root, but ’taint no use. Sampson pulled up dem gate posts and carried ’em on de hill. Well, I jes’ believes I could carry dat tree on de hill, but ’taint no use.” He carried on like this for a half hour or more, and it was about equal to a circus. He kept saying how sober he was and laughing occasionally, saying if Rhody would just keep her tail straight and the ambulance corps must keep up.

We crossed a very high range of the Alleghanies, as we went into Highland county, and made our first encampment near where the Cow Pasture and Bull Pasture rivers head and flow south. The southern tributaries of the Potomac rise on the same elevation and flow north. We could look both north and south, so far that nothing was discernible; it just seemed that we were looking into space, or beyond the briny deep.

While there one of our scouts captured a man butchering a beef, and as he couldn’t give any account of what he was going to do with it, or anything, they decided he was a Swamp Dragoon. These Swamp Dragoons were men who were opposed to the war and dodged both sides. We kept him several days and as we were soon going to leave for Staunton, we decided to let him get away. So some of us told him, when he saw that all of us were asleep, to just step away cautiously and go home. After he left some of us pretended to be very much alarmed and saddled and started after him, calling halt! But we saw by his tracks the next morning, that he hadn’t only run, but had bounded like a deer. He took about 11 feet at a jump. When we reported to the officer of the guard, he said let him go to the devil. We don’t need him and can’t prove he is a dragoon, anyway.

The next morning we started toward Staunton and camped near there the first night. The next day we crossed the mountain at Rock Fish Gap and went into Albemarle county. On our way we passed a large two story mill. I noticed there was a road on both the left and right of the mill and I just dropped out of ranks and went in at the lower door by the left hand road and took the sack at the meal chest that was partly filled with meal and hung my empty one in its place. The miller, I knew, would be on the upper floor watching the command pass. I hastened a little and by the time my part of the command got to where the roads met, I was there with meal enough for several days. I stopped at the next house to buy some buttermilk and eggs to make into batter-bread with my meal. The lady of the house would not charge me a cent, as I was a soldier, and I learned afterward that the mill belonged to those very people. There were several young ladies at the house, nearly grown, and in a few years a neighbor of mine, Chas. Utz, married and when I went to the reception, I recognized his bride as one of the young ladies I’d met at that house. She was Miss Jennie Hansbrough, and it was from her father, Capt. Hiram Hansbrough, that I’d taken the meal. It was steal or starve those days, though, and I told the boys that Pharoah’s dream had taught me that in time of plenty to always prepare for famine. I baked the meal into batter-cakes that night, and as no one else had gotten any provision, I had to bake it all for supper and divide among the hungry boys. I didn’t even get a good ration for myself, much less my mess-mates. We all always made it a rule to try to get enough for our mess-mates, as well as ourselves, when foraging.

We stopped at North Garden and stayed a few days and rested our horses and got supplies. The 1-2-3 and 4 regiments camped right together here, and while there, in maneuvering around we found a moonshiner, who had put a substitute in the war and had made thousands of dollars, I guess. He had a fine four story brick barn and dwelling house. He was bringing sugar, coffee, etc., into the confederate lines and selling at a great big profit. He kept two stories of the barn locked all the time and we were anxious to know what he kept in there and the boys wanted me to try to find out. So I told him one day that he ought to have a guard at that barn, that it wasn’t safe to leave it. He asked me if I wouldn’t guard for him, but I was busy, so sent Ben Foster, a very shrewd fellow. He helped the men to shuck corn and watched around, and I told him to get in one of those upper stories and unlock a window, and there were some boat “gunwales” in the barn yard that would just about reach to the window. We could put them up at night and climb up and pull the window open and help ourselves. Eight of us went and ordered the guard, Ben Foster, to leave at the point of pistols, which was sham work, of course, but he left. I climbed up and filled a sack of corn and rolled it down on the plank, and one of the boys aimed to catch it, to keep it from bursting, and when it hit him it nearly killed him for awhile. We all had a laugh over it, when we saw he wasn’t hurt, and I told one of the boys to come up and help me to explore and see what we could find. One boy came and found what he thought was a sack of sugar. I got out the window and caught the sack with my teeth, and went down the plank feet-foremost, until near enough to the ground for the other boys to get it I took all the sacks down this way and when we got back to camp and opened our sacks and fed our horses the most of the corn, we opened the sack of sugar, as we thought, but it proved to be clover seed. We wanted to get it off of our hands and carried it over to the 3rd Regiment, where they issued their rations and feed.

Next morning everybody wondered where and how it got there and when it went over. I told them it had been sent by mistake to them, of course, for sugar, or something. Some of our boys had been helping the old man to shuck corn and he came over to us the next morning to know what had become of the guard, and he had missed his clover seed, so found it, of course. He had not missed his corn, but knew some one had been in the barn, as the planks were still up at the window. He talked to me about it and I told him I expected the fellow that helped him shuck had done the mischief, and that it was a shame. He never suspected once that I was the ring leader of the crowd.

A few days later Robt. Stevens and Isaac Hinkle came down to see their sons in our company, and Ben thought he would like to send something back to the folks at home, so he came in one morning with shoes, pants, coats and socks that he had taken from his own quarter-master and sent home to his father-in-law. He laughed and told me about it. We had gotten so used to stealing that we thought it fun to see who could get things in the closest quarters. Ben said, when he was home, that the old man had on sheep skin shoes made with the wool out and looked worse than old h——, and he knew he’d be proud of those shoes.

After leaving this camp, we made our next stop at Bowling Green, Caroline county. We went into winter quarters here, but didn’t build log huts, as we sometimes did. Just lived in our tents as two-thirds or more of the winter had already passed.

We found plenty for ourselves and horses to eat. The corn was fine, ears averaging about 15 inches. Our rations, as well as that for our horses, was furnished by the Confederacy, so we didn’t have to steal now. The place abounded in wild geese. They were just about as plentiful as the English sparrows are here. They ate the growing wheat so badly that a boy would often get on a mule and drive them out of the fields until about noon, and then they would fly back toward the Chesapeake Bay.

As we had no drilling or fighting to do we had a good time. We had to keep up picket duty, was about all, except our cooking, chopping wood and taking care of our horses. One day, while here, a moonshiner came into camp and was arrested. We had orders to put a middle-aged man and one that could be trusted to guard. The Orderly Sergeant appointed Ballard McClaugherty, a middle-aged man, alright, but it seems that Ballard had seen the fellow too often and knew too much about him; but the Orderly didn’t know that, of course. The days of prophets and judges were over, but we still had men to prophesy, at times. Well, I for one, prophesied that the moonshiner would get away that night. After roll-call and taps were sounded and everybody had gone to bed, we were suddenly awakened by the firing of a rifle and some one yelling “Halt! halt! you d—— moonshiner,” and then a pistol fired three times. He then yelled “Corporal of the guard, post No. 1.” The Corporal, hurrying to the scene, said, “What’s wrong at post No. 1?” McC.’s bed-fellow, Jack Driskel, said, “Why, Mc.’s moonshiner has gotten away.” “Well, where did he go?” said the Corporal. “Oh, he’s gone hellwards, like hell beating tan-bark,” said Driskel. We never heard of him again at camp, but I think some of the boys saw him right often on the sly.

Everything moved on quietly until about the middle of March, when we were ordered back to Richmond. Early was being pressed pretty closely in the valley and we expected to be sent on there, but as Grant was preparing for movement, we were held to help protect Richmond for a couple of weeks. As soon as we got to Richmond, Gen. Lee issued an order that any one who had served the four years in the war and wanted to go home to be married, would be granted a ten days’ furlough. These men could take any of the broken-down horses from the company and bring back good ones. Two men from each company was all that would be allowed to go at one time. They left and others put in applications for furloughs, but before the first boys got back Grant kept us so busy that no one could leave. We left Richmond for Five Forks, arriving there one Friday eve.

The next day, Sheridan made a charge on our infantry and killed and captured a great many. We were ordered to re-inforce and protect the infantry and we drove the enemy back a considerable distance. As we fell back to our line, a skirmish line was formed, so we could pass over a wider scope and see if there were any wounded that we could help. I came across a splendid looking fellow, who didn’t look to be more than 15 years old, lying across a large clump of rock lillies. His head and feet were on the ground, but his body was up on the lillies. I jumped from my horse, thinking he was only stunned, but found he was dead. I never see the beautiful waxy bloom of the rock lily, that I don’t think of the fate of that fine looking boy, almost a child. I laid him flat on the ground, but could do no more.

We overtook the 57th Va. Regiment of infantry as they were going back to the breastworks. My brother-in-law, Lieut. John Dill, told me that they had suffered a great lost, but not near so great as at Gettysburg. He said that before we got there to re-inforce them, that Gen. Picket had ordered them to cross the breastworks and drive Sheridan’s cavalry back. They succeeded in driving them a short distance, but Sheridan re-inforced his men and drove the infantry back with considerable slaughter, but when he found we were reinforcing the infantry, his men began to fall back, also. We went into camp just back of the roads. The place took its name from the five roads leading from that point. Everything was quiet Sunday morning, until after twelve o’clock. I visited around among the Botetourt boys in the infantry during the time, and after dinner the pickets came in and said the enemy was advancing, and I looked and saw the enemy advancing in a few minutes, in five columns one right after the other. I’d left my horse just behind the breastworks and I ran back and got her. We had orders to fall into line and for No. 3 to hold horses and to dismount. It fell to my lot to hold horses, but the man next to me wasn’t a good runner, and I would rather go into the battle and he said he had rather hold horses, so we just exchanged places and I went on with the Co. We formed into line again and counted off with fours as No. 3 had dropped out to hold horses. Capt. James B. walked right down in front of us and asked for me, and some one told him I was right in the front. He came to me and said I thought you were out of ranks, I want to get your rifle and you go back and get your horse and bring up ammunition. Guggenheimer isn’t here, so you bring it. By the time I got about 300 yds. from the men of my Co., the firing had commenced. Just then I met Gen. Picket and his staff, and he asked me, what was advancing. I told him it was infantry. He said: “how strong?” I told him I had seen five lines in succession and I didn’t know what was behind them, of course. He immediately wrote a dispatch and gave it to a courier and sent it to the next officer in command. He sent a part of his staff with the courier. He turned back and went on just in front of me across Hatchers Run. I could hear the firing all the time. It was terrific. There was a man with me from Co. K. and we had some little trouble in finding the ordinance wagon but were not gone longer than an hour. When we started back with the ammunition, I saw that our forces were retreating. I soon came up to the infantry, artillery and the whole army, retreating toward Lynchburg. They told me that they had lost heavily. The enemy rushed right up and took the breastworks, capturing a good portion of the 11th regiment of infantry. Just about the time the infantry began to give away Capt. Jas. Breckinridge was killed. Poor brave fellow. He had taken my rifle and sent me out of the battle, when I had gone in after being drawn off to hold horses. After his death Lieut. Hayth was appointed. Capt. Grant’s army was then advancing on all the roads and we were trying to defend on the same. We traveled on until about nightfall, when Sheridan’s cavalry attacked our wagon train and at first we repulsed them, but they were too strong for us and they succeeded in capturing some of our wagons and men. We of the 2nd Va. cavalry were guarding the wagon train and several of our men were killed. Capt. Strother of the 4th regiment was with us and he went back to see if any of our men were left that we could help and to see if the enemy was following. He didn’t come back for some time and we called to him and the enemy had captured him and answered: “Here is your Capt. Strother; come down and get him.” We kept marching in the night, without food for ourselves or horses. When day broke when we could have maybe found a little provisions, the enemy was pressing on so that we had to continue marching. Gen. R. E. Lee had ordered a lot of provisions to be sent to Amelia Springs and as we did not get there when the train arrived, it was sent back, so our nearest source of supplies was at Lynchburg, which was a long way off.

The next day the wagon train was attacked by a lot of colored cavalry, but we succeeded in driving them off. I went into a stable to get some feed for my horse and in getting the hay, found a black man shot in the mouth, but not dead. I told the people of the house, to tell the Yankees when they passed to care for him, that we couldn’t. The horses were so worn out, not having food or rest, that they could hardly pull what few wagons we had left. Some of the wagons were loaded with a lot of books, statistics of the war, etc., and we came across such a muddy place, that the horses couldn’t get the wagons through, so we threw a lot of the books in, but that wouldn’t fill up the hole so we could cross. There were no rails or timber near, so some of the men shot some of the poor old worn out horses and dragged them into the mud hole and then drove the teams and wagons across on their bodies. I couldn’t and wouldn’t do that. I would have left the old wagons stand there forever, and turned the horses loose, first. I knew, and the majority of us had known for sometime, that we were whipped and the sooner we would surrender the more lives would be saved and the less we’d have to suffer.

The next day the enemy pressed us closely at Wilson’s Creek, and Gen. Pickett’s few men that were left, tried to hold the position, but nearly all of them were captured. We were all engaged in the fight, but not a great many were killed. That night, I saw Col. Munford, who was commanding Gen. Wickham’s brigade, and his staff officers, stopping at a farm house to get supper, and we had orders to stop, also. I had noticed a double crib with some corn in it, and there was a “provost guard” guarding the crib. We tried to get him to let us have some corn for our horses, but he wouldn’t. I told him the next day the Yankees would come and take it all and we had just as well have it. He had a gun and I noticed he would let loose of the gun every few minutes and put his hands in his bosom, as it was very cold. I just went away and sharpened a tobacco stick and slipped his gun away and set the tobacco stick by, instead. I hid the gun and then eight of us went up and told him we wanted the corn. We had asked him two or three times, but got the same reply each time. We told him we were going to take it now, no matter what he said, and started into the crib. He reached for his gun, as he supposed, and raised it at us, when he found he had nothing but a tobacco stick. I said: “Now you see you’ve let some one steal your gun, so we’ll get the corn.” He just had to laugh and let us take it. We got about 8 bushels and divided it out as far as it would go. That was the first good, full feed my horse had had since we left Carolina Co., a week or ten days before.

Every few hours a courier would come with orders for us to ride back a few miles to protect the rear and then we would have to come back and rush to the front or on ahead for some purpose. We surely had a hard time then and so little food or rest; none practically, you might say, and then we had that feeling of working with no prospect for better times. We didn’t get any food for ourselves again that night, but was glad to get corn for the horses, as they had a worse time yet, than we.

The next morning, after marching all night, Capt. Trent, our regimental quarter-master, sent me on ahead of the army about thirty miles, to a Mr. Gill’s farm. He told me to go to a farm house on the right hand road and get breakfast and my horse fed, which I did, and then take a road parallel to the road the army was moving on.

I got there about night and told Mr. Gill the circumstances. He had been getting the tenth part of all the crops and provisions in that section of the county and sending it to the army. So Capt. Trent sent me ahead, thinking he might probably have something for the starving men and horses. He said he had sent everything he could get to the army and could only feed me and my horse. He told me that men had been passing for three days and nights and he thought the whole thing was over and the soldiers going home. I told him who I’d left just behind and how we’d been fighting and marching day and night and what hardships we had undergone. He had me to register and stay all night with him, of course. I knew the army couldn’t get there before the next day, even if the enemy didn’t attack them, for we were a poor, wornout set of men and horses, and moved very slowly. The next morning we went out to the road and the stragglers were still passing. These were men going on home. After awhile our men came on and when they found Mr. Gill had no provisions, we just had to go on until night. The enemy was not pressing so we lay down to sleep, but didn’t get to sleep long, for orders came in the night for us to move on.

We went slowly, and at daybreak we were ordered to dismount and went down a little slope and found a lot of Yankee infantry guarding the Farmville Bridge. We fired on them and they on us, but we soon captured Gen. Curtiss and his whole brigade. The infantry, at first, ran and left a lot of knapsacks, and we ransacked them to find something to eat, but found nothing. General Curtiss surrendered without much resistance, so not a great many were killed. We left a young fellow by the name of William Fields at Sailor’s Creek dead, as we thought, and at Farmville we lost another fellow, Luck, and I never knew anything of either of them again until the summer of 1911, when I met both at a reunion at New Port News.

The attack was just at daybreak and Luck told me that the Yankees captured him at Farmville and then we recaptured them all and we thought he had been killed, but he was sent on with Gen. Curtiss’ men. The bridge was 300 feet, and as soon as we captured the men and took the obstruction from the railroad track, the waiting trains moved on. As the fog rose, and the trains whistled, we looked up and saw them moving so high above us, that I told the boys there was Gabriel coming in the clouds blowing his bugle.

We marched Gen. Curtiss and his men on toward Lynchburg, and he and the Yankees were all just as nice as they could be. They had to go on, just like we did, without provisions. The provost guard soon took charge of them and went on toward Lynchburg, but may have disbanded before getting there as the surrender took place the next day.

Gen. R. E. Lee, with the remainder of the army, had been forced to leave Richmond before this and was moving on toward Lynchburg, and got with us the same day of our capture at Farmville Bridge.

At night we laid down to rest, but still without food. I had fared a little better than some of them, as I was sent out to Mr. Gill’s and got three meals on that trip. All of the men Lee had with him had fared just like us. If they got anything to eat at all, they begged it from citizens in passing by or stole it, and the great trouble was there was so little left to steal. The country was stripped.

The next morning Fitz Lee’s cavalry was ordered to charge the enemy’s left flank as they had gotten in front of us to cut us off from Lynchburg. We charged them and drove them back toward Appomattox C. H. When we got around on the road leading from Appomattox to Lynchburg, we met some of the boys who had gotten furloughs, 10 days before, to go home to be married, and were then on their way back to the army. We congratulated them and they fell into line with us. Just then a charge was ordered and we charged right down toward Appomattox C. H., and the first volley that was fired on us killed Lieut. Parker of Co. G, who had joined us just about five minutes before and we had just congratulated.

Jas. Godwin, of Co. C., who had fought through the whole time unharmed was wounded then. The ambulance corps took him to the rear and on to Lynchburg, and we hadn’t gone but a few hundred yards, when we saw a flag of truce coming up the road. The bearers of the flag came on to Fitz Lee and told him that Robt. E. Lee had surrendered. Fitz Lee received orders to disband his whole division right then. Col. Munford disbanded the 1-3-4 and 5 regiments on the grounds, but as we of the second had been mustered into service at Lynchburg and it was right on our way home, he took us there to disband us. We went out to the fair grounds, just where we had drilled and had been mustered in, four years before. There is a nice park at this place now, and the U. S. government presented Col. Munford and the 2nd Va. cavalry with two pieces of artillery and placed them in this park with two pyramids of cannon balls, to mark the place where his men were mustered into service and disbanded.

As we passed through Lynchburg, some one told us that one of our men who had been wounded wanted to go home with us and was able to ride on horse back. It proved to be Jas. Godwin. He had been shot in the foot, but had it dressed and was anxious to get home, so we started with him. When we got to a bridge on the outskirts of the town we found an Irish sentinel guarding the city. When we got in sight he yelled at us like a steam engine and we halted. He said: “Dismount and advance one and give the countersign.” I did so and told him I had no countersign or pass word, but that Gen. Lee’s army had surrendered at Appomattox that day and we were on our way home. He said: “Surrindered! Hill and damnation! you know Gen. Lee wouldn’t surrinder to such a d—— rascal as Ulysses Grant. You are both d—— deserters.” I told him we were not. He then said we couldn’t get by without a pass from Gen. Colston who was Mayor of the town and had charge of the army post and hospitals etc. I got on my horse and told him I had fought four years in this war and had been in 54 battles, the last one that day at Appomattox in which the man with me had been wounded and I was taking him home and that I was going over that bridge if he or I one had to die. At that I leveled my pistol on him and told him to fire if he wanted to. He said: “Damned if I don’t believe something is in the wind boys, and you can go on.” Then he told us he was from Louisianna and had been wounded and sent to the hospital and was sent out there, and if he got near our place in going back home, he’d like to stay all night with me. I told him I’d do any thing in my power to help a fellow soldier and with that we passed over the bridge.

Night overtook us at William Henry Kyle’s, a few miles above Lynchburg, so we spent a very pleasant night with him, as he had visited his brother, Haslet Kyle, who was in our Co., several times during the war.

We journeyed on up the “tow path” and passed a good many of the infantry coming on home. In many places the road was lined for some distance with them. Just after 12 o’clock we came to Dr. Watson’s and we ate dinner and spent several hours with him. He dressed Jim’s foot and treated us very kindly. One of his daughters married one of our countrymen, Richard Hayden, deceased.

We passed the home of Dick Burks that evening. He had served as our adjutant the first year of the war. He insisted on us spending the night with him, but we were so anxious to get home that we went on several miles farther and spent the night with a Mr. Arnold who lived near Natural Bridge. They were very kind indeed to us, not charging a cent for us or our horses. The next morning, which was the 11th, we started on our last day’s ride for home. We got to Springwood just after the middle of the day and good old hospitable aunt Katie Hayth, whose door was never closed on the wayfarer, made us eat dinner with her. After resting awhile we made a start for Fincastle, arriving there about 3 o’clock.

I turned Jim over to his mother at his home. He stood the trip very well and soon recovered from his wound. We had left amid the cheers and tears of an excellent throng, feeling that we would soon be victorious and return, but none felt joyous now, only to see the few who were left returning.

When I got to the Court House several had heard I was coming and met me there. I told the boys I’d left home the 17th of May ’61 to fight Yankees and at the first battle of Manassas, we fought full fledged American Yankees and they were gentlemen, but after that we fought every nationality, I think, unless it was Esquimos. They had been hired by the Yankees, of course, and some of them were tough customers I tell you.

I reached home that eve with my dappled gray that I captured in Stafford Co., near Kelley’s Ford in ’63 and which Gen. Stewart had given me. I also had the gun with me, that I had to take from the provost guard to get corn for our starving horses, on the horrible retreat, just a few days before the surrender. I still have it among my war relics.

Mother met me at the gate and I told her I hadn’t a single regret. I felt I had answered my country’s call and discharged my duty, but all the time I was fighting for what my state thought best and against my own convictions.

My father was offered $8,000 for his slaves just before the war and I begged him to take it and not own slaves. I never thought slavery was right, although my father treated his slaves as kindly as any one possibly could and they were good and obedient.

The many happy days that our old black mammy took us children out to gather hickorynuts, pick beans or do any kind of light work or play, are still fresh in my memory to day. And the many coon, and opossum and rabbit hunts, that her boy Jack who was just a few years older than I, and myself have had together. He was always so thoughtful of our wellfare and protected me and my brothers, more like an older brother than a slave.