Co. Aytch, or a Side Show of the Big Show Page 27

  They, I thought, seemed to be very gleeful about it, and I had to march right back by the old priest's house, and they carried me to the headquarters of General Stephen Williams. As soon as he saw me, he said, “Who have you there—a prisoner, or a deserter?” They said a prisoner. From what command? No one answered. Finally he asked me what command I belonged to. I told him the Confederate States army. Then, said he, “What is your name?” Said I, “General, if that would be any information, I would have no hesitancy in giving it. But I claim your protection as a prisoner of war. I am a private soldier in the Confederate States army, and I don't feel authorized to answer any question you may ask.”

  He looked at me with a kind of quizical look, and said, “That is the way with you Rebels. I have never yet seen one of you, but thought what little information he might possess to be of value to the Union forces.” Then one of the men spoke up and said, “I think he is a spy or a scout, and does not belong to the regular army.”16

  He then gave me a close look, and said, “Ah, ah, a guerrilla,” and ordered me to be taken to the provost marshal's office. They carried me to a large, fine house, upstairs, and I was politely requested to take a seat. I sat there some moments, when a dandy-looking clerk of a fellow came up with a book in his hand, and said, “The name.” I appeared not to understand, and he said, “The name.” I still looked at him, and he said, “The name.” I did not know what he meant by “The name.” Finally, he closed the book with a slam and started off, and said I, “Did you want to find out my name?” He said, “I asked you three times.” I said, “When? If you ever asked me my name, I have never heard it.”

  But he was too mad to listen to anything else. I was carried to another room in the same building, and locked up. I remained there until about dark, when a man brought me a tolerably good supper, and then left me alone to my own meditations. I could hear the sentinels at all times of the night calling out the hours. I did not sleep a wink, nor even lay down. I had made up my mind to escape, if there was any possible chance. About three o'clock everything got perfectly still. I went to the window, and it had a heavy bolt across it, and I could not open it. I thought I would try the door, but I knew that a guard was stationed in the hall, for I could see a dim light glimmer through the key-hole.

  I took my knife and unscrewed the catch in which the lock was fastened, and soon found out that I could open the door; but then there was the guard, standing at the main entrance down stairs. I peeped down, and he was quietly walking to and fro on his beat, every time looking to the hall. I made up my mind by his measured tread as to how often he would pass the door, and one time, after he had just passed, I came out in the hall, and started to run down the steps. About midway down the steps, one of them cracked very loud, but I ran on down in the lower hall and ran into a room, the door of which was open. The sentinel came back to the entrance of the hall, and listened a few minutes, and then moved on again. I went to the window and raised the sash, but the blind was fastened with a kind of patent catch. I gave one or two hard pushes, and felt it move. After that I made one big lunge, and it flew wide open, but it made a noise that woke up every sentinel. I jumped out in the yard, and gained the street, and, on looking back, I heard the alarm given, and lights began to glimmer everywhere, but, seeing no one directly after me, I made tracks toward Peachtree creek, and went on until I came to the old battlefield of July 22nd, and made my way back to our lines.

  * * *

  1. Sherman had cut railroad supply lines south of Atlanta several times with cavalry, but the damage was quickly repaired. Toward the end of August, he concluded that infantry in numbers strong enough to hold their positions must be used in order to keep the lines cut. Consequently, he moved three corps toward Jonesboro, one of which (General John “Black Jack” Logan's) was vulnerable on the east side of the Flint River, where Hardee's Confederate corps (not Stewart's) was ordered to attack it.

  2. Cleburne only temporarily commanded a corps, and it was Hardee's, not Cheatham's. However, Watkins was part of Maney's division, which was included in Cleburne's temporary corps. Cleburne was to attack the south flank of Logan's corps while Steven D. Lee's corps was to make a direct frontal assault west on Logan once Cleburne was rolling up Logan's south flank.

  There was much confusion because Cleburne's left-most units first encountered Union cavalry with repeating carbines. The federal fire was so heavy, the Confederate commanders at that end of the line assumed the federal cavalry was actually the targeted infantry divisions. As the Union cavalry retreated west, the Confederates followed them—in the wrong direction since the attack was supposed to proceed north. Apparently this is why Watkins later comments about “feints” and the ensuing confusion they caused.

  3. Actually, General Maney failed to press the attack vigorously. It may be one reason that Watkins survived to write about his division's “no go” to “get up a fight.” A short time later, Maney would be relieved of command owing to his timidity at Peachtree Creek and Jonesboro.

  4. The battle of Jonesboro continued a second day. Hood recalled Steven D. Lee's corps to Atlanta, thereby leaving Hardee's single corps isolated. It was attacked the second day by three federal corps, while a fourth one moved to cut off a possible Hardee retreat south. Confederate units had to march to-and-fro to meet threats to the defensive line as they materialized at different points throughout the day. This is the marching to which Watkins refers. With his corps separated from each other, Hood had to abandon Atlanta and try to concentrate his troops, because the entire Army of Tennessee was on the verge of being destroyed in detail.

  5. Albert Castel, author of Decision in the West, and Russell S. Bonds, author of War Like the Thunderbolt, agree with Watkins. Sherman had an oppportunity to destroy Hood's army at this time, and it was only the federal commander's diffidence that prevented it. In short, Sherman could have ended the war eight months before Appomattox by destroying the major Confederate army in the West.

  6. This was a popular song in the Northern states celebrating the end of the war the following year.

  7. Sam is foreshadowing Hood's disastrous advance into Tennessee that will culminate in defeats at Franklin and Nashville. He is also presenting a viewpoint seldom expressed by sesquicentennial-era historians when suggesting that federal commanders could have ended the war after the fall of Atlanta, but instead wanted to continue in order to win accolades that would be rewarded in postwar civilian sinecures.

  8. This is a reference to the Christian hymn “Hark! From the Tombs a Doleful Sound,” by Issac Watts. The hymn was sung at George Washington's funeral.

  9. This may be a corrupted reference to the flag in the popular Rebel song “The Bonnie Blue Flag.” Officially, the Palmetto Flag is the blue flag of South Carolina, which was the first state to secede. It features illustrations of a crescent moon and a palm tree. The actual Bonnie Blue Flag was also blue but only depicted a diagram of a single star.

  10. Apparently this is a reference to the hollow victory that Napoleon won when he occupied the nearly deserted and valueless Russian capital. Even though he captured Moscow, he was forced to retreat owing to the harsh Russian winter for which his troops were unprepared and inadequately supplied. In short, Napoleon was drawn too far into the hinterland and became isolated.

  11. Beyond the borders of the known world.

  12. Davis addressed the Army of Tennessee and publicly revealed a plan to force Sherman and subordinates Thomas and Schofield to retreat by sending Hood's army into Tennessee. It failed because Sherman split his command, sending Thomas and Schofield to Tennessee after the capture of Atlanta. Thus, there were plenty of federal troops in Tennessee prepared to meet Hood's advance so that there was no need for Sherman to backtrack to confront Hood. Consequently, Sherman was able to make his March to the Sea virtually unopposed.

  13. Sherman ordered that nearly all Atlanta civilian families choose allegiance between the Union and the Confederacy. Those choosing the Confederacy were directed
to remove south beyond Confederate lines. Residents choosing to side with the Union were also ordered to evacuate, but were sent north instead of south. Sherman's army constructed no shelters for Atlanta civilian evacuees, regardless of which side they chose. The evacuees were mostly old men, women, and children. Only about fifty families were permitted to stay in Atlanta.

  14. Hardee left at this time, but Breckinridge and Kirby-Smith were already gone, as explained earlier.

  15. Sam criticizes the vanity of generals who would resign because they resented that another general (or generals) had been given higher rank. Ordinary soldiers could not resign. If they left the army they were labeled “deserters” and liable to execution.

  16. If the Federals concluded Watkins was a spy or scout he would likely have been executed. Thus, his imprisonment was a serious matter.

  FIFTEEN

  ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE

  GENERAL HOOD MAKES A FLANK MOVEMENT

  After remaining a good long time at Jonesboro, the news came that we were going to flank Atlanta. We flanked it. A flank means “a go around.”

  Yank says, “What you doing, Johnny?”

  Johnny says, “We are flanking.”

  Yank says, “Bully for you!”

  We passed around Atlanta, crossed the Chattahoochee, and traveled back over the same route on which we had made the arduous campaign under Joe Johnston. It took us four months in the first instance, and but little longer than as many days in the second, to get back to Dalton, our starting point. On our way up there, the Yankee cavalry followed us to see how we were getting along with the flanking business. We had pontoons made for the purpose of crossing streams. When we would get to a stream, the pontoons would be thrown across, and Hood's army would cross. Yank would halloo over and say, “Well, Johnny, have you got everything across?” “Yes,” would be the answer. “Well, we want these old pontoons, as you will not need them again.” And they would take them.

  We passed all those glorious battlefields, that have been made classic in history, frequently coming across the skull of some poor fellow sitting on top of a stump, grinning a ghastly smile; also the bones of horses along the road, and fences burned and destroyed, and occasionally the charred remains of a once fine dwelling house. Outside of these occasional reminders we could see no evidence of the desolation of the track of an invading army. The country looked like it did at first. Citizens came out, and seemed glad to see us, and would divide their onions, garlic, and leek with us. The soldiers were in good spirits, but it was the spirit of innocence and peace, not war and victory.

  Where the railroads would cross a river, a block-house had been erected, and the bridge was guarded by a company of Federals. But we always flanked these little affairs. We wanted bigger and better meat.

  WE CAPTURE DALTON

  When we arrived at Dalton, we had a desire to see how the old place looked; not that we cared anything about it, but we just wanted to take a last farewell look at the old place. We saw the United States flag flying from the ramparts, and thought that Yank would probably be asleep or catching lice, or maybe engaged in a game of seven-up. So we sent forward a physician with some white bandages tied to the end of a long pole. He walked up and says, “Hello, boys!” “What is it, boss?” “Well, boys, we've come for you.” “Hyah, ha; hyah, ha; hyah, ha; a hee, he, he, he; if it ain't old master, sho.” The place was guarded by Negro troops.1

  We marched the black rascals out. They were mighty glad to see us, and we were kindly disposed to them. We said, “Now, boys, we don't want the Yankees to get mad at you, and to blame you; so, just let's get out here on the railroad track, and tear it up, and pile up the crossties, and then pile the iron on top of them, and we'll set the thing a-fire, and when the Yankees come back they will say, ‘What a bully fight them nagers did make.’” (A Yankee always says “nager”). Reader, you should have seen how that old railroad did flop over, and how the darkies did sweat, and how the perfume did fill the atmosphere.

  But there were some Yankee soldiers in a block-house at Ringgold Gap, who thought they would act big. They said that Sherman had told them not to come out of that block-house, any how. But General William B. Bate begun to persuade the gentlemen, by sending a few four-pound parrot “feelers.” Ah! those feelers! They persuaded eloquently. They persuaded effectually—those feelers did. The Yanks soon surrendered. The old place looked natural like, only it seemed to have a sort of graveyard loneliness about it.

  A MAN IN THE WELL

  On leaving Dalton, after a day's march, we had stopped for the night. Our guns were stacked, and I started off with a comrade to get some wood to cook supper with. We were walking along, he a little in the rear, when he suddenly disappeared. I could not imagine what had become of him. I looked everywhere. The earth seemed to have opened and swallowed him. I called, and called, but could get no answer. Presently I heard a groan that seemed to come out of the bowels of the earth; but, as yet, I could not make out where he was. Going back to camp, I procured a light, and after whooping and hallooing for a long time, I heard another groan, this time much louder than before. The voice appeared to be overhead. There was no tree or house to be seen; and then again the voice seemed to answer from under the ground, in a hollow, sepulchral tone, but I could not tell where he was. But I was determined to find him, so I kept on hallooing and he answering. I went to the place where the voice appeared to come out of the earth.

  I was walking along rather thoughtlessly and carelessly, when one inch more and I would have disappeared also. Right before me I saw the long dry grass all bending toward a common center, and I knew that it was an old well, and that my comrade had fallen in it. But how to get him out was the unsolved problem. I ran back to camp to get assistance, and everybody had a great curiosity to see “the man in the well.” They would get chunks of fire and shake over the well, and, peeping down, would say, “Well, he's in there,” and go off, and others would come and talk about his “being in there.” The poor fellow stayed in that well all night. The next morning we got a long rope from a battery and let it down in the well, and soon had him on terra firma. He was worse scared than hurt.

  TUSCUMBIA

  We arrived and remained at Tuscumbia several days, awaiting the laying of the pontoons across the Tennessee River at Florence, Alabama, and then we all crossed over. While at Tuscumbia, John Branch and I saw a nice sweet potato patch, that looked very tempting to a hungry Rebel. We looked all around, and thought that the coast was clear. We jumped over the fence, and commenced grabbling for the sweet potatoes. I had got my haversack full, and had started off, when we heard, “Halt, there.” I looked around, and there was a soldier guard. We broke and run like quarter-horses, and the guard pulled down on us just as we jumped the fence. I don't think his gun was loaded, though, because we did not hear the ball whistle.

  We marched from Decatur to Florence. Here the pontoon bridges were nicely and beautifully stretched across the river. We walked over this floating bridge, and soon found ourselves on the Tennessee side of Tennessee River.

  In driving a great herd of cattle across the pontoon, the front one got stubborn, and the others, crowding up all in one bulk, broke the line that held the pontoon, and drowned many of the drove. We had beef for supper that night.

  EN ROUTE FOR COLUMBIA

  “And nightly we pitch our moving tent

  A day's march nearer home.”2

  How every pulse did beat and leap, and how every heart did throb with emotions of joy, which seemed nearly akin to heaven, when we received the glad intelligence of our onward march toward the land of promise, and of our loved ones. The cold November winds coming off the mountains of the northwest were blowing right in our faces, and nearly cutting us in two.3

  We were inured to privations and hardships; had been upon every march, in every battle, in every skirmish, in every advance, in every retreat, in every victory, in every defeat. We had laid under the burning heat of a tropical sun; had made the cold, frozen
earth our bed, with no covering save the blue canopy of heaven; had braved dangers, had breasted floods; had seen our comrades slain upon our right and our left hand; had heard guns that carried death in their missiles; had heard the shouts of the charge; had seen the enemy in full retreat and flying in every direction; had heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying; had seen the blood of our countrymen dyeing the earth and enriching the soil; had been hungry when there was nothing to eat; had been in rags and tatters. We had marked the frozen earth with bloody and unshod feet; had been elated with victory and crushed by defeat; had seen and felt the pleasure of the life of a soldier, and had drank the cup to its dregs. Yes, we had seen it all, and had shared in its hopes and its fears; its love and its hate; its good and its bad; its virtue and its vice; its glories and its shame. We had followed the successes and reverses of the flag of the Lost Cause through all these years of blood and strife.

  I was simply one of hundreds of thousands in the same fix. The tale is the same that every soldier would tell, except Jim Whitler. Jim had dodged about, and had escaped being conscripted until “Hood's raid,” he called it. Hood's army was taking up every able-bodied man and conscripting him into the army. Jim Whitler had got a position as over-seer on a large plantation, and had about a hundred Negroes under his surveillance. The army had been passing a given point, and Jim was sitting quietly on the fence looking at the soldiers. The conscripting squad nabbed him.