CHAPTERS 5 & 6
At this time, every night, vedettes were placed out in front to watch the
Yanks. It fell to my lot one night to go. My post of duty was about one
hundred yards in front, in a small grove of timber. Our instructions were
to fire into any body of men and then run. I got to the post safely, sat
down behind a tree and was peeping around in every direction, expecting
every minute to see Grant's whole army coming at once. Of to my right, I
heard a noise. Every hair on my head seemed to stand straight up and my
heart was beating like a drum. Dirctly I heard the noise again, a little
farther to my rear. I resolved to see what it was. If but one Yank, he would
be captured, if more, I would fire and run. Creeping up to the spot, expecting
to be shot every minute, I found a wounded turkey buzzard lying on his back.
It took me several hours to get over the scare. I returned to our lines
next morning feeling very thankful that I was spared to get back.
In a short time, Grant pushed his lines so close to ours that the vedette
post had to be abandoned. It was now hot times around Petersburg. The Yanks
tried very hard to drive us out of our works. They dug a mine under out
lines, blew up one of our posts, killing a number of our boys.
They got possession of a short space in our lines, but little Billy Mahone,
with part of his division, soon drove them out and re-established the lines.
The loss on the Federal side was greater than ours. After this, they settled
down to regular siege work, planting mortar batteries and heavy siege guns.
All the heavy metal they could throw did not move us. We were there to stay
for a while. Several raids were made on Weldon and Petersburg R. R. We would
go down, brush them away and return to our lines, "home", as we
called it. In one of these skirmishes, our Captain, D. F. Duke, was killed
and T. J. Hardy, of Co. H., was placed in command and held the command till
the surrender.
One day, there was a detail of men working on the breast-works. Directly
after the work was started, the bullets commenced to whittle around them,
killing one man and wounding two. The men were ordered to scatter, which
the did in double quick time.
We spied around to find out where the bullets were coming from. Just about
a mile in our frong, was a tall pine tree. Some of the boys saw a puff of
smoke in the top of the tree and yelled: "Lie down, boys!" Just
as we lay down, the ball passed over us. Now, we had him treed. One of our
officers stepped over to a battery to report him to the captain, who searched
for him with our spy-glass. He spied him and a rifled gun was turned on
him, which brought the young man down from his lofty perch.
After that, we worked on without being disturbed. The first of March, we
were sent over to guard our lines between the Appamattox and James rivers,
remaining there till April 5th, being then ordered back to Petersburg. We
crossed the river above the town. On reaching the top of the hill, heavy
firing was heard to our right. We soon learned that our lines were broken
and our men were in full retreat. Our division was ordered in line to check
the enemy. The 16th and 48th Mississippi Regiments were placed in a fort
with instructions to hold it, which we did till we were overpowered and
forced to surrender. A few men from each regiment made their escape. I was
one of that number. As I ran out of the fort, Col. Jayne was shot down right
in front of me. I rolled over him and went running on as fast as I could
go. We surely did do some good old running. (It was my good fortune to escape
capture during the four years.) The small number that escaped with me, joined
the 12th and 18th Mississippi Regiments. We learned afterwards that Col.
Jayne was only shot through the hip and not killed. We fell back to our
reserve line, remaining there till after dark, when we were ordered to march.
We bade farewell to the old historic town, leaving many of our valiant comrades
resting beneath the sod where the, for "home" and country, fell.
CHAPTER 6
We crossed to the north side of the Appomattox River and headed up stream.
For five days and night, we tramped, scarcely knowing where. Finally, on
the 9th of April, the Yankees rounded us up at Appomattox Court House. We
all knew, then, that the Southern Banner woujld be furled and the "Star
Spangled Banner" wave in triumph. When the terms of surrender were
agreed upon between Generals Lee and Grant, Lee issued his farewell address
to the Army of Northern Virginia.
Farewell Words of General Lee to the Army of Northern Virginia
April 10, 1865
General Order No. 9:
After four years of arduous service, marked by unsurpassed courage
and fortitude, the Army of Northern Virginia has been compelled to yield
to overpowering numbers and resources. I need not tell the survivors of
so many hard-fought battles, who have remained steadfast to the last, that
I have consented to this result from not distrust of them; but holding that
valor and devotion could accomplish nothing that could compensate for the
loss that would have attended the contest. I have determined to avoid the
useless sacrifice of those whose past vigor has endeared them to their countrymen.
By the terms of agreement, officers and men can return to their homes and
remain there until exchanged. You will take with you the satisfaction that
proceeds from the consequence of duty faithfully performed, and I earnestly
pray that a merciful God will extend to you His mercy and protection.
With an increasing admiration of your constancy and devotion of your country,
and a grateful remembrance of your kind and generous consideration of myself,
I bid you an affectionate farewell.
R. E. Lee, General
When Gen. Lee was paroled, he mounted his old gray war-horse, Traveller,
and started towards his war blighted home. As he passed through our camps,
we all cheered him for the last time. The grandest chieftain the world has
ever known, gave us a farewill salute. He was gracious, grand, and gallant
in the sorest hour of defeat.
When we surrendered, our division commander, Billy Mahone, formed a square
of his division, tgetting in the center of the square, and delivered his
eloquent and pathetic farewell address, paying glowing tribute to his faithful
men. The soldiers were paroled as fast as possible and turned loose to get
home the best way they could. We had known nothing but war for four years,
but the home-journey was the "tug of war". NO transportation,
no rations, no money, ragged and heart-sick, with miles and miles between
us and our homes "Away Down South in Dixie".
"Through the April weather's heart-break,
The April weather's peace,
Past mountains steep as black despair,
Through flowery vales of ease,
Mocked by the liquid sunshine,
The lilt of nesting birds.
The men in gray went straggling home
With grief beyond all words,
Still in each heart there echoed
The beat of the last tatto,
And still they thrilled to the last wild charge
The Southland bugles blew."
After moving out a few miles from camp, in the direction of the railroad,
we saw that the road we were on would not do. So many had already gone on
ahead of us that we knew the country was cleaned up of anything that would
do to eat. There were four of us of Company F, who decided to make the home-journey
together. Holding a consultation to devise plans for our future operations,
we decided to employ some of Stonewall Jackson's tatics and make a flank
movement. We moved out by the right flank for several miles, until we passed
beyond the line that the paroled army was traveling, then we came to a house
where there was plenty of grub. The old gentleman of the house gave us all
we wanted to eat. He also gave us some verjy good advise as to our journey
home, and a diagram of a route that would lead us through a country where
provisions were plentiful. The people living on this route were nearly all
loyal to the Confederates. Going the proposed way, we found the people very
kind. Some of them would ask us to stop several days and rest, but we were
anxious to get home and declined to accept their hospitality, pushing on
as fast as we could for "Home, Sweet, Home".
After crossing the Dan River, we entered North Carolina, where some strong
Unionists were found. They treated us very well, but run it on us about
being whipped. Benin in no humor to discuss the war question, the subject
was quickly changed by asking for something to eat. We spent one night in
this neighborhood, stopping with a very old man. He said that he was glad
that the Yankees whipped us. His wife spoke up and said: "Well, old
man, these her boys don't want to hear that kind of talk, and I was you,
I would stop it". And he did. When we went to supper, the old lady
apologized for not having any coffee. I told her that I could furnish the
coffee if she would make it. Taking a small sack of ground coffee from my
haversack, I passed I over to her. Examining it carefully, she exclaimed:
"Lordy massy! Its rale old coffee shore ‘nough". She soon
made a potful and those two old folks seemed to enjoy it.
Next morning, we moved on. The people were very generous all through North
Carolina, Georgia and Alabama. Between Washington, Ga. and Atlanta, we struck
the country where Sherman's raid had been. Everything was swept clean. At
Washington, we had drawn rations on our paroles. We wold have fared badly
in this country, if we had been without provisions. Atlant was in ashes;
all the railroads were torn up. Everything was a wreck.
Reaching West Point, we crossed the Chattahoochee River in a canoe and went
to Montgomery, Ala. There we crossed the Alabama River on a pontoon bridge.
From there we went to Selma. Two miles from Selma, we boarded a train, the
first train we had been on since we left Appomattox. At Demopolis, the Tombigbee
River was crossed on a small steamboat. After crossing, we got on a train
heading for Meridian, Miss. Reaching Meridian, we saw the destructive work
of Sherman, in our dear old State. The town was in ruins. Only one house
of note was left standing, which was the old Jones House. After getting
off the train, three of our old Jasper County friends, John McCormick, Billy
Brame and Henry Cook greeted us. We were certainly glad to see them. John
McCormick told us the new from home and the sad news of my brother being
killed at the battle of Mobile. I was barefooted and Henry Cook carried
me to theri camp and gave me a new pair of shoes. He said that it would
never do for his old neifhbor's on to go home barefooted. The gift was surely
appreciated. These boys were with Hood's army, which was camped at Meridian.
Josiah Jones, the proprietor of the Jones House, asked us to dine with him.
We accepted the invitation, remaining there till 1 o'clock that night, when
three of us took the southbound train for Shubuta, Clarke County. Our other
comrade bade us farewell at Meridian, taking the A. & V. train for Vicksburg.
We got to Shubuta at half past two o'clock. No one was there to greet us,
and we immediately started for our homes, which were some 25 miles distant.
We got out about eight or ten miles from town just at the break of day,
without seeing anybody. About 10 o'clock, we reached the neighborhood where
some of our company enlisted from. One mother wrung her toil-worn hands
in anguish, when told that her gallant boy would never come home again.
But such is the cruelty of war.
It was 4 o'clock in the evening when we reached our homes, and there was
great rejoicing over the safe return of "Our boys form Lee's army".
Ah, it seems but yesterday, when I reviews those thrilling days of the "sixties".
But
"The years have glided onward
Since those eventful days
We've learned to love ;Old Glory'
And ever speak its praise.
The flowers of peace have blossomed
In our sweet Southern clime
North and South's been blended
By generous had of Time."
The Veteran's Story is told! 'Tis thirty years and more since the events
of the story transpired. A new and flourishing Southland sprang rapidly
up from the ruins of the old. The fair cities that the enemy laid in waste
have arisen in beauty and strength, as if by magic.
"The beautiful land we view with pride--
The land for which men fought and died."
When the sons of Blue and the sons of Gray marched side by side beneath
the tropic sun fighting the Spanish foe, the past was blotted out. With
the Blue, they have blended the glories of the Gray.
"From sun kissed Southland
Unto chilly North a greeting goes
"No North, no South' --one country
And a people grand and great
United stand to share their Nation's joys and woes
From over Southern seas was heralded
The tidings of a mighty victory,
Columbia's gallant sons unloosed
The shackles of a hapless isle
And planted Freedom's banner there."
Beneath the lurid light of war, Nations may strike with mighty hand, planting
Freedom's banner in oppressed realms. Martial heroes may accomplish wonderful
achievements and wear the victor's laurels, but the history of the valiant
hosts of our Southland fair will ever be unrivaled. Time adds new lustre
to the glories of the past. One by one, the Veterans pass away! The valor
of men who wore the Gray will be cherished in thrilling song and story.
Heroic souls of Southland will not weary of repeating the story of that
might Chieftain and his war-torn followers, when they yielded up their cause
at historic Appomattox.
Robert E. Lee
In fair old Virginia, there are far winding valleys
Murmuring rivers flow swiftly along.
The tall mountain peaks are bold in their grandeur
And send back the echo of the river's low song.
Ah, grand "Old Dominion"--the birthland of heroes
A tribute of love is wafted to thee,
Thy deep azure skies so softly are bending
O'er the beautiful land or our Robert E. Lee.
In that picturesque clime there's sublime inspriation,
From Nature our Lee gleamed the beauty of Truth.
In the home of his childhood, a mother's devotion
Taught life's highest lessons in the days of his youth.
The father, when off in the isles of the tropics,
Seeking for health that to him was denied,
Wrote words of true wisdom to a son at old Cambridge.
In the pages of history we read them with pride.
"Tell me news of the children, you know how I love
them."
Sent words of affection as a true father would
"May they go in Truth's road to the Temple of Virtue
My dear little Robert, he always was good."
When war clouds were gathering and Southland was
stirring
With wrath that ere long unfettered would be,
In hours of turmoil, no heart was more loyal;
Yes, fervent and true was the love of our Lee.
His prayer was for peace, ah, his land was in peril,
To the field of dread warfare he earnestly went.
For his country he cherished heroic devotion
By power supreme, such a leader was sent.
The ideal of history--the soldier so glorious,
His memory is sacred--from blemish it's free.
No word of reproach can justly be spoken
To mar the pure name of our Robert E. Lee.
When he saw that victory was lost by the Southland,
In manner that ever was noble and grand;
The vanquished yielded his cause to the victor,
And was crowned with the love of fair "Dixieland".
In virtue no warrior has rivaled our hero
So loyal to duty, the Southland's true son.
In the world's great arena, his life was triumphal
The homage of Nations our grand hero won..
A laurel wreathed victor ne'er won such devotion
On the records of valor no name we e'er see
That shines with such lustre still brighter it's growing
The name of that Chieftain, our Robert E. Lee.
In comparing the lives of Lee and Jackson, we note the great contrast of
their boyhood training, Lee being cared for and trained by the gentlest
and truest of mothers and all his surroundings were elevating and refining.
Jackson was a poor little fatherless boy. From childhood he learned to battle
his way in the world with a firm, resolute will, destined to conquer. This
unyielding spirit of boyhood never forsook him. Thus will of the general
taught his men that defeat was impossible and brought the flag of triumph
out of every battle.
The warrior hero grand and great
Defeat he never knew.
AN INCIDENT AT APPOMATTOX
To a story oft-times I have listened
Of a son of the Southland so true.
And the soul-stirring story, dear people
I gladly will tell it to you.
He carried in battle the colors
In the midst of the fast-flyig shell,
And if for a moment you'll listen,
The deed of this hero I'll tell.
When at last the great conflict was over,
And lost was the dear Southern cause,
He clung to his flag with devotion,
Which won from his comrades applause.
"Can I yield up my flag, the tattered old flag,
Into hands of the vanquishing foe?"
He gathered it close to his true Southern heart
And fearlessly answered "No".
"It has led on brave men to glory and fame,
Of heroic hearts ‘twas a hope and a pride,
For thy colors, dear flag, they Stars and thy Bars
Many brave men have battled and died."
"In this dismal hour of gloom and defeat,
When our cause sinks down in despair
The foe may demand you, dear flag of our hopes,
But I'll keep you and guard your with care."
So saying, he hid it securely beneath
His battered old jacket of gray,
And somewhere in Southland that old battle flag
Is treasured by Veterans to-day.
The color bearer of the 16th Mississippi Regiment was the hero of the above
incident.
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