Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII. SHELBYVILLE It is a bad thing for an army to remain too long at one place. The men soon become discontented and unhappy, and we had no diversion or pastime except playing poker and chuck-a-luck.
All the money of the regiment had long ago been spent, but grains of corn represented dollars, and with these we could play as earnestly and as zealously as if they were so much money, sure enough. A FOOT RACE One of those amusing episodes that frequently occur in the army happened at this place.
A big strapping fellow by the name of Tennessee Thompson always carried bigger burdens than any other five men in the army. For example, he carried two quilts, three blankets, one gum oilcloth, one overcoat, one axe, one hatchet, one camp kettle, one oven and lid, one coffee pot, besides his knapsack, haversack, canteen, gun, cartridge box, and three days' rations.
He was a rare bird anyhow. Tennessee usually had his hair cut short on one side and left long on the other, so that he could give his head a bow and toss and throw the long hairs over on the other side, and it would naturally part itself, without a comb. He was the wit and good nature of the company, always in good humor, and ever ready to do
any duty when called upon. In fact, I would sometimes get out of heart and low-spirited and would hunt up Tennessee to have a little fun. His byword was Bully for Brag. He's hell on retreat and will whip the Yankees yet.
He was a good and brave soldier and followed the fortunes of Company H from the beginning to the end. Well, one day he and Billy Rubster bet twenty-five dollars put up in Bill Martin's hands as to which could run the faster. John Tucker, Joe Lee, Alf Horsley and myself were appointed judges.
The distance was two hundred yards. The ground was measured off and the judges stationed. Tennessee undressed himself, even down to his stocking feet, tied a red handkerchief around his head and another one around his waist, and walked deliberately down the track eyeing every little rock and stick and removing them off the track.
Comes back to the starting point and then goes down the track in half canter. Returns again, his eyes flashing, his nostrils dilated, looking the impersonation of the champion coarser of the world. Makes two or three apparently, faults starts, turns a somersault by placing his head on the ground and flopping over on his back, gets up and flickers like a horse, goes half
hammered, hop, step and jump, he says to loosen up his joints, scratches up the ground with his hands and feet, flops his arms and crows like a rooster and says, Bully for brag, he's hell on a retreat, and announces his readiness. The drum is tapped and off they start. Well Billy Webster beat him one hundred yards in the two hundred and Tennessee came back
and said, Well boys, I'm beat. Billy Martin, hand over the stakes to Billy Webster. I'm beat. He couldn't hang me if I didn't outrun the whole Yankee army coming out of Kentucky. Got away from Lieutenant Lansdowne in a holdy tail at Chattanooga with half a hog, a fifty
pound sack of flour, a jug of menacee conamissary whiskey and a camp kettle full of brown sugar. I'm beat. Billy Martin, hand over the stakes. Bully for brag, he's hell on a retreat. Tennessee was trying bluff.
He couldn't run worth a cent, but there was no braver or truer man ever drew a ramrod or tourer cartridge than Tennessee. Eating Mussels Reader, did you ever eat a muscle? Well we did at Shelbyville.
We were camped right upon the bank of Duck River and one day Fred Doran, Ed Voss, Andy Wilson and I went in the river muscle hunting. Every one of us had a meal sack. We would feel down with our feet until we felt the muscle and then dive for it. We soon filled our sacks with muscles in their shells.
When we got to camp we cracked the shells and took out the muscles. We tried frying them, but the longer they fried the tougher they got. They were a little too large to swallow whole. Then we stewed them and after a while we boiled them and then we baked them. But every flank movement we would make on those muscles the more invulnerable they would
get. We tried cutting them up with a hatchet, but they were so slick and tough the hatchet would not cut them. Well we cooked them and buttered them and salted them and peppered them and battered them.
They looked good and smelled good and tasted good, at least the fixings we put on them did and we ate the muscles. I went to sleep that night. I dreamed that my stomach was four grindstones and they were turned in four directions according to the four corners of the earth.
I awoke to hear four men yell out, Oh save, oh save me from eating any more muscles. Poor Barry Morgan. One of those sad unexpected affairs that remind the living that even in life we are in the midst of death happened at Shelbyville. Our regiment had been out to the front on duty and was returning to camp.
It was nearly dark and we saw a black wind cloud rising. The lightning's flash and the deep muttering thunders warned us to seek shelter as speedily as possible. Some of us ran in under the old depot shed and soon the storm struck us. It was a tornado that made a track through the woods beyond Shelbyville and right through
the town and we could follow its course for miles where it had blown down the timber, twisting and piling it in every shape. Barry Morgan and I had ever been close friends and we threw down our blankets and were lying side by side when I saw roofs of houses, sign boards and brickbats flying in every direction. Nearly half of the town was blown away in the storm.
By looking at the storm without I felt the old shed suddenly jar and tremble and suddenly become unroofed and it seemed to be that ten thousand brickbats had fallen in around us. I could hear nothing for the roaring of the storm and could see nothing for the blinding rain and flying dirt and bricks and other rubbish. The storm lasted but a few minutes but those minutes seemed ages.
When it had passed I turned to look at poor Barry. That fellow, his head was crushed in by a brickbat, his breast crushed in by another and I think his arm was broken and he was otherwise mutilated. It was a sad sight. Many others of our regiment were wounded.
Barry was a very handsome boy. He was what everybody would call a pretty man. He had fair skin, blue eyes and fine curly hair which made him look like an innocent child. I loved Barry.
He was my friend, as true as the needle to the pole. But God who doeth all things well took his spirit in the midst of the storm to that beautiful home beyond the skies. I thank God I am no infidel. We will meet again.
Wright shot to death with musketry. I saw a young boy about 17 or 18 years old by the name of Wright and belonging to General Marcus J. Wright's brigade shot to death with musketry at this place. The whole of Cheatham's division had to march out and witness the horrid scene. Now I have no doubt that many, if not all, would have gone without being forced to do
so, but then you know that was Bragg's style. He wanted always to display his tyranny and to intimidate his privates as much as possible. The young man was hauled in a wagon, sitting on his coffin, to the place where the grave was to be dug, and a post was planted in the ground. He had to sit there for more than two hours, looking on at the preparations for his death.
I went up to the wagon, like many others, to have a look at the doomed man. He had his hat pulled down over his eyes and was busily picking at the ends of his fingers. The guard, who then had him in charge, told me that one of the culprit's own brothers was one of the detail to shoot him. I went up to the wagon and called him.
He made no reply, did not even look up. Then I said, Right, why don't you jump out of that wagon and run? He was calloused to everything. I was sorry for him.
When the division was all assembled and the grave dug and the post set, he was taken out of the wagon and tied to the post. He was first tied facing the post and consequently would have been shot in the back, but was afterwards tied with his back to the post. The chaplain of the regiment read a chapter in the Bible, sang a hymn, and then all knelt
down and prayed. General Wright went up to the pinion man, shook hands with him, and told him good-bye, as did many others. And then the shooting detail came up, and the officer in charge gave the command, Ready, aim, fire!
The crash of musketry broke upon the morning air. I was looking at Wright. I heard him almost shriek, Oh, God! His head dropped forward, the rope with which he was pinioned keeping him from falling.
I turned away and thought, How long? How long will I have to witness these things? Dave Sublett Promoted While at Shelbyville, a vacancy occurring in Captain Ledbetter's company, the Rutherford Rifles for 4th Corporal, Dave Sublett became a candidate for the position.
Now Dave was a genius. He was a noble and brave fellow, and at one time had been a railroad director. He had a distinguished air always about him, but Dave had one fault, and that was he was ever prone to get tight. He had been a Union man, and even now he always had a good word for the Union.
He was sincere, but eccentric. The election for 4th Corporal was drawing nigh. Dave set off and got two jugs of Spirits Vini Frumenti and treated the boys. Of course his vote would be solid. Every man in the company was going to cast his vote for him.
Dave got happy and wanted to make a speech. He went to the butcher's block, which was used to cut up meat on. He called it Butcher's Hall. Gut upon it, amid loud cheering and hurrahs of the boys, he spoke substantially as follows. Fellow citizens, I confess that it is with feelings of diffidence and great embarrassment
on my part that I appear before you on this occasion. But gentlemen and fellow citizens, I desire to serve you in an humble capacity as 4th Corporal of Company I. Should you see cause to elect me, no heart will beat with more gratitude than my own. Gentlemen, you well know that I was ever a Union man.
A union of lakes and a union of lands. A union that no one can sever. A union of hearts and a union of hands. A glorious union forever. Cheers and applause.
Fellow citizens, I can look through the dim telescope of the past and see Kansas, bleeding Kansas, coming like a fair young bride dressed in her bridal drapery, her cheek wet and moistened with the tears of love. I can see her common knock gently at the doors of the Union, asking for admittance while cheering.
Looking farther back, I can see our forefathers of the Revolution bearing their bosoms to the famine of a seven-years war, making their own bosoms of breastwork against the whole hosts of King George III. But gentlemen, as I before remarked, I desire to ask at your hands the high, distinguished and lucrative office, my fellow citizens, and for which I will ever feel grateful, the
office of fourth corporal in your company. Cheers. Now, Dave had a competitor who was a state's rights Democrat. If I mistake not, his name was Frank Halliburton. Now Frank was an original secessionist.
He felt that each state was a separate sovereign government of itself and that the South had the same rights and the territories as they of the North. He was fighting for secession and state's rights upon principle. When Sublette had finished his speech, Frank took the stand and said, Gentlemen and fellow citizens, I am a candidate for fourth corporal, and if you will elect
me, I will be grateful and will serve you to the best of my ability. My competitor seems to harp considerably upon his Union record and Union love. If I mistake not, my fellow citizens, it was old George McDuffie that stood up in the Senate chamber of the United States and said, When I hear the shout of glorious Union, Methinks I hear the shout of a robber gang.
McDuffie saw through his prophetic vision the evils that would result and has foretold them as if by inspiration from above. Fellow citizens, under the name of Union, our country is invaded today. These cursed Yankees are invading our country, robbing our people and desolating our land and all under the detestable and damning name of Union.
Our representatives in Congress have been fighting them for fifty years. Compromise after compromise has been granted by the South. We have used every effort to conciliate those at the North. They have turned a deaf ear to every plea. They saw our country rich and prosperous and have come indeed, like a gang of robbers,
to steal our property and murder our people. But fellow citizens, I for one am ready to meet them and desire that you elect me fourth corporal of Company I so that I can serve you in a more efficient manner while we meet as a band of brothers, the cursed horde of Northern Hessians and hirelings. I thank you for your attention, gentlemen, and would thank you for your votes.
Well, the election came off and Dave was elected by an overwhelming majority. But the high eminence of military distinction enthralled him. He seemed to live in an atmosphere of greatness and glory and was looking eagerly forward to the time when he would command armies. He had begun to climb the ladder of glory under most favorable and auspicious circumstances.
He felt his consequence in keeping. He was detailed once and only once to take command of the third relief of Camp Guard. Ah, this thing of office was a big thing. He desired to hold a council of war with Generals Bragg, Polk, Hardy and Kirby Smith. He first visited General Polk.
His war medal was up. He wanted a fight just then and there and a fight he must have at all hazards and to the last extremity. He became a streperous when General Polk called a guard and had him marched off to the guard house.
It was then ordered that he should do extra fatigue duty for a week. The guard would take him out to the woods with an axe and he would make two or three chops on a tree and look up at it and say, Woodsman, spare that tree, touch not a single bough. In youth it sheltered me and I'll protect it now.
He would then go to another tree, but at no tree would he make more than two or three licks before he would go to another. He would hit a limb and then a log, would climb a tree and cut it a limb or two and keep on this way until he came to a hard old stump which on striking his axe would bound and spring back.
He had found his desire. The top of that stump became fun and pleasure. Well, his time of misdemeanor expired and he was relieved. He went back and reported to Colonel Field who informed him that he had been reduced to the ranks.
He drew himself up to his full height and said, Colonel, I regret exceedingly to be so soon deprived of my new-fledged honors that I have won on so many a hard fought and bloody battlefield. But if I am reduced to the ranks as a private soldier, I can but exclaim like Moses of old when he crossed the Red Sea in defiance of Pharaoh's host, Oh, how the mighty have fallen!
He then marched off with the air of the born soldier. Down Duck River in a canoe. Ora pronobis. At this place Duck River wended its way to Columbia. On one occasion it was up, and on its Sunday close a booming.
Andy Wilson and I thought we would slip off and go down the river in a canoe. We got the canoe and started. It was a leaky craft. We had not gone far before the thing capsized and we swam ashore. But we were outside of the lines now and without passes.
We would have been arrested anyhow. So we put our sand paddles to work and landed in Columbia that night. I loved a maid and so did Andy, and some poet has said that love laughs at greats, bars, locksmiths, etc. I do not know how true this is, but I do know that when I went to see my sweetheart that
night I asked her to pray for me, because I thought the prayers of a pretty woman would go a great deal further up yonder than mine would. I also met Cousin Alice, another beautiful woman at my father's front gate, and told her that she must pray for me, because I knew I would be court-martialed as soon as I got back, that I had no idea of deserting the army and only wanted to see the maid I loved.
It took me one day to go to Columbia and one day to return, and I stayed at home only one day and went back of my own accord. When I got back to Shelbyville I was arrested and carried to the guardhouse, and when court-martialed was sentenced to thirty days fatigue duty and to forfeit four months pay at eleven dollars per month, making forty-four dollars.
Now you see how dearly I paid for that trip. But fortunately for me, General Leonidas Polk has issued an order that very day promising pardon to all soldiers absent without leave if they would return. I got the guard to march me up to his headquarters and told him of my predicament, and he ordered my release, but said nothing of remitting the fine.
So when we were paid off at Chattanooga I was left out. The Confederate States of America were richer by forty-four dollars. General Olidowski Olidowski, lately imported from Poland, was Bragg's inspector general. I remember reading in the newspapers of where he tricked Bragg at last.
The paper said he stole all of Bragg's clothes one day and left for parts unknown. It is supposed he went back to Poland to act as Ugg, Big Indian, Fight Heap, Mitt Bragg. But I suppose it must have left Bragg in a bad fix, somewhat like Mr. Jones who went to ask the old folks for Miss Willis. On being told that she was a very poor girl and had no property for a start in life, he
simply said, All right, all I want is the naked girl. On one occasion while inspecting the arms and accoutrements of our regiments when he came to inspect Company H. he said, Gentlemen, what for you make the pot hook out of the sword and bayonet and throw the cartridge box in the mud? I just report you to General Bragg.
My gracious! On orderly Sergeant John T. Tucker and lifting the flap of his cartridge box, which was empty, he said, Bah bah! Mon Dieu! I just know that you is't been hunting the squirrel and the rabbit.
Mon Dieu! You charge yourself mit fifteen dollars for wasting sixty cartridges at twenty-five cents apiece. Bah bah! Mon Dieu!
I just report you to General Bragg. On ordering Sergeant A. S. Horsley, he said, Fyish, you got nuttings mit your knapsack. Sir, you must have sunnings mit your knapsack. Alf ran into his tent and came back with his knapsack in the right shape. Well, old Ulydowski thought he would be smart and make an example of Alf and said, I wish
to inspect your claudics. He took Alf's knapsack and on opening it, what do you suppose was in it? Well, if you're not a Yankee and good at guessing, I will tell you. If you don't say anything about it, for Alf might get mad if he were to hear it. He found Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, Cruden's Concordance, Macaulay's History of
England, Jean Valjean, Fantine, Cossay, Les Miserables, The Heart of Midofflen, Ivanhoe, Guy Manoring, Rob Roy, Shakespeare, The History of Ancient Rome, and many others which I have now forgotten. He carried literature for the regiment. He isn't in the same old business yet, only now he furnishes literature by the carload.
