menu_book Chapter 14

CHAPTER XIV. THE BATTLE OF JONESBORO. Stewart's corps was at Atlanta, Lee's corps was between Atlanta and Jonesboro, and Cheatham's corps then numbering not more than five thousand men, because the woods and roads were full of struggling soldiers who were not in the fight, was face to face with a whole Yankee

army, and he was compelled to flee, fight, or surrender. This was the position and condition of the Grand Army of Tennessee on this memorable occasion. If I am not mistaken, General Claiborne was commanding Cheatham's corps at that time. We expected to be ordered into action every moment, and kept seesawing backward and forward

until I did not know which way the Yankees were or which way the rebels. We would form line of battle, charge bayonets, and would raise a whoop and yell, expecting to be dashed right against the Yankee lines, and then the order would be given to retreat. Then we would immediately reform and be ordered to charge again a mile off at another place. Then we would march and countermarch backward and forward over the same ground, passing

through Jonesboro, away over the hill, and then back through the town, first foreforward and back, your right hand to your left hand, lady, swing half round and balance all. This sort of movement is called a feign. A feign is what is called in poker a bluff, or what is called in bully a brag. A feign means anything but a fight.

If a lady feints, she is either scared or in love, and wants to fall in her lover's arms. If an army makes a feign movement, it is trying to hide some other movement. Hello, Lee, what does Claiborne say the Yankees are doing at Jonesboro? They are fanning themselves.

Well, keep up that feign movement until all the boys faint from sheer exhaustion. Hello, Stuart, do you think you will be able to burn up those ten locomotives and destroy those hundred carloads of provisions by day after tomorrow? Lee, ask Claiborne if he feels feigny. Ask him how a fellow feels when he feigns.

Claiborne says, I have feigned, feigned and feigned until I can't feign any longer. Well, says Hood, if you can't feign any longer, you had better flee, fight or faint. Bollum gets along mighty slow, but I'll be there after a while. At one o'clock we were ordered to the attack. We had to pass through an Osage orange hedge that was worse than the enemy's fire.

Their breastworks were before us. We yelled and charged and hurrahed and said, Boo, boo, we're coming, coming, look out, don't you see us coming? Why don't you let us hear the cannons opening roar? Why don't you rattle a few old muskets over there at us?

Boo, boo, we are coming. Tag. We have done gut to your breastworks. Now we tagged first, why don't you tag back? A Yankee seems to be lying on the other side of the breastworks sunning himself and raising

his elbow says, fool who with your fatty bread? We are two old birds to be caught with that kind of chaff. We don't want any of that kind of pie. What you got there wouldn't make a mouthful. Bring on your pudding and pound cake and then we will talk to you.

General Granberry, who poor fellow was killed in the butchery at Franklin afterwards, goes up to the breastworks and says, Look here, Yank, we're fighting, sure enough. My Dutchman comes out and says, Is that so? Well, I've been a little bit hungry this morning and I used to gobble you up for my lunch before dinner time.

That is the kind of man that I am. Now reader, that is a fine description of this memorable battle. That's it, no more, no less. I was in it all and saw General Granberry captured. We did our level best to get up a fight, but it was no go, any way we could fix it up.

I mean no disrespect to General Hood. He was a noble, brave and good man and we loved him for his many virtues and goodness of heart. I do not propose to criticize his generalship or ability as a commander. I only write of the impression and sentiment that were made upon the privates' mind at

the time and as I remember them now. But Atlanta had fallen into the hands of the Yankees and they were satisfied for the time. Death of Lieutenant John Whittaker At this place we built small breastworks, but for what purpose I never knew. The Yankees seemed determined not to fight, no way we could fix it.

Every now and then they would send over a feeler to see how we were getting along. Sometimes these feelers would do some damage. I remember one morning we were way over a hill and every now and then here would come one of those lazy looking feelers just bouncing along as if he were in no hurry, called in military ricochet.

They were very easy to dodge, if you could see them in time. Well one morning, as before remarked, Lieutenant John Whittaker, then in command of Company H and myself, were sitting down eating breakfast out of the same tin plate. We were sopping gravy out with some cold cornbread when Captain W.C. Flournoy of the Martin Guards hallowed out, Look out Sam, look, look.

I just turned my head and in turning the cannonball knocked my hat off and striking Lieutenant Whittaker full in the side of the head carried away the whole of his skull part, leaving only the face. His brains fell on the plate from which we were sopping and his head fell on my lap, delusional my face and clothes with his blood.

Poor fellow, he never knew what hurt him. His spirit went to its god that morning. Green Reeves carried the poor boy off on his shoulder and after wrapping him up in a blanket buried him. His bones are at Jonesboro today.

The cannonball did not go twenty yards after accomplishing its work of death. Captain Flournoy laughed at me and said, Sam, that came very near getting you. One tenth of an inch more would have cooked your goose. I saw another man try to stop one of those balls that was just rolling along on the ground. He put his foot out to stop the ball, but the ball did not stop but instead carried

the man's leg off with it. He no doubt today walks on a cork leg and is tax collector of the county in which he lives. I saw a thoughtless boy trying to catch one in his hands as it bounced along. He caught it, but the next moment his spirit had gone to meet its god.

But poor John, we all loved him. He died for his country, his soul is with his god. He gave his all for the country he loved, and may he rest in peace under the shade of the tree where he is buried, and may the birds sing their sweetest songs, the flowers put forth their most beautiful blooms, while the gentle breezes play about the brave boy's

grave. Green Reeves was the only person at the funeral. No tears of a loving mother or gentle sister were there. John interred his body, and there it will remain till the resurrection. John Whitaker deserves more than a passing notice.

He was noble and brave, and when he was killed Company H was without an officer then commanding. Every single officer had been killed, wounded, or captured. John served as a private soldier the first year of the war, and at the reorganization at Corinth, Mississippi, he, W.J. Whitthorne, and myself all ran for orderly sergeant of Company H, and John was elected.

And the first vacancy occurring after the death of Captain Webster, he was commissioned a Brevet second lieutenant. When the war broke out, John was clerking for John L. and T.S. Brandon in Columbia. He had been in every march, skirmish, and battle that had been fought during the war.

Along the dusty road, on the march, in the bivouac, and on the battlefield, he was the same noble, generous boy, always kind, ever gentle, a smile ever lighting up his countenance. He was one of the most even-tempered men I ever knew. I never knew him to speak an unkind word to anyone, or use a profane or vulgar word in my life.

One of those ricochet cannonballs struck my old friend, N.B. Shepard. Shepard was one of the bravest and best soldiers who ever shouldered a musket. It is true he was but a private soldier, but he was the best friend I had during the whole war. In intellect, he was far ahead of most of the generals, and would have honored and adorned

the name of General in the C.S.A. He was ever brave and true. He followed our cause to the end, yet all the time an invalid. Today he is languishing on a bed of pain and sickness caused by that ball at Jonesboro. The ball struck him on his knapsack, knocking him twenty feet and breaking one or two ribs

and dislocating his shoulder. He was one of God's noblemen indeed, none braver, none more generous. God alone controls our destinies, and surely he who watched over us and took care of us in those dark and bloody days will not forsake us now. God alone fits and prepares for us the things that are in store for us.

There is none so wise as to foresee the future or foretell the end. God sometimes seems afar off, but he will never leave or forsake anyone who puts his trust in him. The day will come when the good as well as evil will all meet on one broad platform to be rewarded for the deeds done in the body, when time shall end, with the gates of eternity

closed and the key fastened to the girdle of God forever. Pardon me, reader, I have wandered. But when my mind reverts to those scenes and times, I seem to live in another age and time, and I sometimes think that after us comes the end of the universe. I am not trying to moralize.

I am only trying to write a few scenes and incidents that came under the observation of a poor old rebel webfoot private soldier in those stormy days and times. Please tell the great facts while I only tell the minor incidents. But on this day of which I now write, we can see in plain view more than a thousand Yankee battle flags waving on top of the Red Earthworks, not more than four hundred yards off.

Every private soldier there knew that General Hood's army was scattered all the way from Jonesboro to Atlanta, a distance of twenty-five miles, without any order, discipline, or spirit to do anything. We could hear General Stewart, a way back yonder in Atlanta, still blowing up arsenals and smashing things generally, while Stephen D. Lee was somewhere between Lovejoy Station

and Macon, scattering. And here was but a demoralized remnant of Cheatham's Corps facing the whole Yankee army. I have ever thought that Sherman was a poor general, not to have captured Hood and his old army at that time. But it matters not what I thought, as I am not trying to tell the ifs and ands, but only

of what I saw. In a word, we had everything against us. The soldiers distrusted everything. They were broken down with long days' hard marching, were almost dead with hunger and fatigue.

Everyone was taking his own course and wishing and praying to be captured. Hard and senseless marching, with little sleep, half rations, and lice, had made their lives a misery. Each one prayed that all this foolishness might end one way or the other. It was too much for human endurance.

Every private soldier knew that such things as this could not last. They were willing to ring down the curtain, put out the footlights, and go home. There was no hope in the future for them. Then comes the farce. From this time forward until the close of the war, everything was a farce as to generalship.

The tragedy had been played. The glory of war had departed. We all loved Hood. He was such a clever fellow and a good man. Well, Yank, why don't you come on and take us?

We're ready to play quits now. We have not anything to let you have, you know, but you can parole us, you know, and we'll go home and be good boys, you know, good Union boys, you know, and we'll be sorry for the war, you know, and we wouldn't have the Negroes in any way, shape, form, or fashion, you know.

And the American continent has no north, no south, no east, no west. Boo hoo, boo hoo, boo hoo. Tut tut, Johnny, all that sounds tolerable nice, but then you might want some favor from Uncle Sam, and the tit is too full of milk at the present time for us to turn loose. It's a sugar tit, Johnny, and just begins to taste sweet.

And besides, Johnny, once or twice you have put us to a little trouble. We haven't forgotten that. And we've got you down now. Our foot is on your neck, and you must feel our boot heel. We want to stamp you a little.

That's what's the matter with Hannah. And Johnny, you have fought us hard. You are a brave boy. You are proud and aristocratic, Johnny, and we are going to crush your cursed pride and spirit.

And now, Johnny, come here. I have something to whisper in your ear. Hold your ear close down here so that no one else can hear. We want big fat offices when the war is over. Some of us want to be presidents, some governors, some go to Congress and be big ministers to

Europe and all those kind of things, Johnny. You know? Just go back to your camp, Johnny. Chase around, put on a bold front, flourish your trumpets, blow your horns. And Johnny, we don't want to beat hard on you, and we'll tell you what we'll do for

you. Stay back in your territory between Columbia and Nashville is the most beautiful country and the most fertile, and we have lots of rations up there, too. Now, you just go up there, Johnny, and stay until we want you. We ain't done with you yet, my boy.

Oh, no, Johnny. And another thing, Johnny, you will find there between Mount Pleasant and Columbia the most beautiful country that the Son of Heaven ever shone upon, and halfway between those two places is St. John's Church. This tower is all covered with a beautiful vine of ivy, and Johnny, you know that in

olden times it was the custom to entwine a wreath of ivy around the brows of victorious generals. We have no doubt that many of your brave generals will express a wish when they pass by to be buried beneath the ivy vine that shades so gracefully and beautifully the wall of this grand old church.

And Johnny, you will find a land of beauty and plenty, and when you get there, just put on as much style as you like. Just pretend, for our sake, you know, that you are a bully boy with a glass eye, and that you are the victorious army that has returned to free and oppressed people. We will allow you this, Johnny, so that we will be the greater when we want you, Johnny.

And now, Johnny, we did not want to tell you what we are going to say to you now, but will, so that you'll feel bad. Sherman wants to march to the sea while the world looks on and wonders. He wants to desolate the land and burn up your towns, to show what a coward he is and how dastardly, and one of our boys wants to write a piece of poetry about it.

But that ain't all, Johnny. You know that you fellas have got a great deal of cotton at Augusta, Savannah, Charleston, Mobile, and other places, and cotton is worth two dollars a pound in gold, and as Christmas is coming, we want to go down there for some of that cotton to make a Christmas gift to old Abe and old Clo, don't you see?

Oh, no, Johnny, we don't want to end the war just yet a while. The sugar is mighty sweet in the tit, and we want to suck a while longer. Why, sir, we want to rob and then burn every house in Georgia and South Carolina. We will get millions of dollars by robbery alone, don't you see? Palmetto

Hark from the tomb that doleful sound. My ears attend the cry. General J.B. Hood established his headquarters at Palmetto, Georgia, and here is where we were visited by his honor, the Honorable Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederate States of America, and the Right Honorable Robert Toomes, Secretary of State under the said

Davis. Now, kind reader, don't ask me to write history. I know nothing of history. See the histories for grand movements and military maneuvers. I can only tell of what I saw and how I felt.

I can remember now General Robert Toomes and Honorable Jeff Davis's speeches. I remember how funny Toomes's speech was. He kept us all laughing by telling us how quick we were going to whip the Yankees and how they would ski-dattle back across the Ohio River like a dog with a tin oyster can tied to his tail.

Captain Joe P. Lee and I laughed till our sides hurt us. I can remember today how I felt. I felt that Davis and Toomes had come there to bring us glad tidings of great joy and to proclaim to us that the ratification of a treaty of peace had been declared between the Confederate States of America and the United States.

I remember how good and happy I felt when these two leading statesmen told of when grim visage war would smooth her wrinkled front and when the dark clouds that had so long lowered over our own loved south would be in the deep bosom of the ocean buried. I do not know how others felt but I can say never before or since did I feel so grand. I came very near saying gloomy and peculiar.

I felt that I and every other soldier who had stood the storms of battle for nearly four long years were now about to be discharged from hard marches and scant rations and ragged clothes and standing guard, etc. In fact the black cloud of war had indeed drifted away and the beautiful stars that gemmed the blue ether above smiling said, Peace, peace, peace.

I felt bully, I tell you. I remember what I thought, that the emblem of our cause was the Palmetto and the Texas Star and the town of Palmetto were symbolical of our ultimate triumph and that we had unconsciously nay I should say prophetically fallen upon Palmetto as the most appropriate place to declare peace between the two sections.

I was sure Jeff Davis and Bob Toombs had come there for the purpose of receiving the capitulation of and to make terms with our conquered foes. I knew that in every battle we had fought except Missionary Ridge we had whipped the Yankees and I knew that we had no cavalry and had but little artillery and only two of infantry at Missionary Ridge and from the way Jeff and Bob talked it was enough to make

us old private soldiers feel that swelling of the heart we ne'er should feel again. I remember that other high dignitaries and big bugs, then the controlling spirits of the government at Richmond, visited us and most of these high dignitaries shook hands with the boys. It was all hands round, swing the corner and balance your partner.

I shook hands with Honorable Jeff Davis and he said, Howdy, Captain. I shook hands with Toombs and he said, Howdy, Major. And every big bug that I shook hands with put another star on my collar and chicken guts on my sleeve. My pen is inadequate to describe the ecstasy and patriotic feeling that permeated every

vein and fiber of my animated being. It was paradise regained. All the long struggles we had followed the Palmetto flag through victory and defeat, through storms and rains and snows and tempest, along the dusty roads and on the weary marches, we had been true to our country, our cause and our people.

And there was a conscious pride within us that when we would return to our homes, we would go back as conquerors and that we would receive the plaudits of our people. Well done, good and faithful servants. You have been true and faithful even to the end. Jeff Davis makes a speech.

Sinner, come view the ground where you shall shortly lie. I remember that Honorable Jeff Davis visited the army at this place and our regiment, the 1st Tennessee, serenaded him. After playing several eras he came out of General Hood's marquee and spoke substantially as follows, as near as I can remember.

Soldiers of the 1st Tennessee Regiment, I should have said captains. For every man among you is fit to be a captain. I have heard of your acts of bravery on every battlefield during the whole war. And captains, so far as my wishes are concerned, I today make every man of you a captain. And I say honestly today, were I a private soldier, I would have no higher ambition on

earth than to belong to the 1st Tennessee Regiment. You have been loyal and brave. Your ranks have never yet in the whole history of the war been broken, even though the army was routed. Yet, my brave soldiers, Tennesseans all, you have ever remained in your places in the rank

of the regiment, ever subject to the command of your gallant Colonel Field in every battle, march, skirmish, in an advance, or a retreat. There are on the books of the War Department at Richmond the names of a quarter of a million deserters. Yet you, my brave soldiers, captains all, have remained true and steadfast.

I have heard that some have been dissatisfied with the removal of General Joe E. Johnson and the appointment of General Hood. But my brave and gallant heroes, I say I have done what I thought best for your good. Soon we commence our march to Kentucky and Tennessee. Be of good cheer, for within a short while your faces will be turned homeward, and your

feet will press Tennessee soil, and you will tread your native heath amid the blue grass and pastures green of your native homes. We will flank General Sherman out of Atlanta, tear up the railroad and cut off his supplies, and make Atlanta a perfect Moscow of defeat to the Federal Army. Situated as he is in an enemy's country, with his communications all cut off, and our

army in the rear, he will be powerless, and being posted and cognizant of our position and of the Federal Army, this movement will be the ultima thule, the grand crowning stroke for our independence and the conclusion of the war. Armistice in name only. About this time the Yankees sent us a flag of truce, asking an armistice to move every

citizen of Atlanta south of their lines. It was granted. They wanted to live in fine houses a while, and then rob and burn them, and issued orders for all the citizens of Atlanta to immediately abandon the city. They wanted Atlanta for themselves, you see.

For weeks and months the roads were filled with loaded wagons of old and decrepit people, who had been hunted and hounded from their homes with a relentless cruelty worse, yea, much worse than ever blackened the pages of barbaric or savage history. I remember assisting and unloading our wagons that General Hood, poor fellow, had kindly sent in to bring out the citizens of Atlanta to a little place called Rough-and-Ready,

about halfway between Palmetto and Atlanta. Every day I would look on at the suffering of delicate ladies, old men, and mothers with little children clinging to them crying, Oh mama, mama, and old women and tottering old men whose gray hairs should have protected them from the savage acts of Yankee hate and Puritan barbarity.

And I wondered how on earth our generals, including those who had resigned, that is where the shoe pinches, could quietly look on at this dark, black, and damning insult to our people and not use at least one effort to rescue them from such terrible and unmitigated cruelty, barbarity, and outrage. General Hood remonstrated with Sherman against the insult, saying that it transcended and

studied an ingenious cruelty all acts ever before brought to my attention in the dark history of war. In the great crisis of the war, Hardy, Kirby Smith, Breckenridge, and many brigadiers resigned, thus throwing all the responsibility upon poor Hood. Authors note, in the Southern Army the question was who ranked?

Not who was the best general or colonel or captain, but who ranked? The article of rank finally got down to corporals, and rank finally bursted the government. I desire to state that they left the Army on account of rank. Oh, this thing of rank! Many other generals resigned and left us privates in the lurch, but the gallant Cheatham, Claiborne,

Granbury, Gist, Straw, Adams, John C. Brown, William B. Bate, Stewart, Lowry, and others stuck to us to the last. The sinews of war were strained to their utmost tension. A Scout At this place I was detailed as a regular Scout, which position I continued to hold

during our stay at Palmetto. It was a good thing. It beat Camp Guard all hollow. I had answered, Here! at roll call ten thousand times in those nearly four years, but I had sort of got used to

the darn thing. Now, reader, I will give you a few chapters on the kind of fun I had for a while. Our instructions were simply to try and find out all we could about the Yankees and report all movements. One dark rainy evening while out as a Scout, and after traveling all day, I was returning

from the Yankee outposts at Atlanta, and had captured a Yankee prisoner, who I then had under my charge, and whom I afterwards carried and delivered to General Hood. He was a considerable muggins and a great coward. In fact, a Yankee deserter. I soon found out that there was no harm in him, as he was tired of war anyhow, and was

anxious to go to prison. We went into an old log cabin near the road until the rain would be over. I was standing in the cabin door, looking at the raindrops fall off the house and make little bubbles in the drip, and listening to the pattering on the clabbered roof. When happening to look up, about fifty yards off, I discovered a regiment of Yankee cavalry

approaching. I knew it would be utterly impossible for me to get away unseen, and I did not know what to do. The Yankee prisoner was scared almost to death. I said, Look, look.

I turned in the room and found the planks of the floor were loose. I raised two of them, and Yanke and I slipped through. I replaced the planks, and could peep out beneath the sill of the house and see the legs of the horses. They passed on and did not come into the old house.

They were at least a half hour and passing. At last the main regiment had all passed, and I saw the rear guard about to pass, when I heard the captain say, Go and look at that old house. Three fellows detached themselves from the command and came dashing up to the old house. I thought, Gone up sure, as I was afraid the Yankee prisoner would make his presence known.

When the three men came up, they pushed open the door and looked around, and one fellow said, Boo. Then they rode off. But that Boo! I was sure I was caught, but I was not.

What is this rebel doing here? I would go up to the Yankee outpost, and if some poppin' J of a tacky officer didn't come along we would have a good time. One morning I was sitting down to eat a good breakfast with the Yankee outpost. They were cavalry, and they were mighty clever and pleasant fellows.

I looked along the road toward Atlanta, and not fifty yards from the outpost I saw a body of infantry approaching. I don't know why I didn't run. I ought to have done so, but I didn't. I stayed there until this body of infantry came up.

They had come to relieve the cavalry. It was a detail of Negro soldiers headed by the meanest looking white man as their captain I ever saw. In very abrupt words he told the cavalry that he had come to take their place and that they were ordered to report back to their command.

Trying to catch sight of me he asked, What is this rebel doing here? One of the men spoke up and tried to say something in my favor, but the more he said the more the captain of the blacks would get mad. He started toward me two or three times. He was starting, I could see by the flush of his face, to take hold of me anyhow.

The cavalryman tried to protest and said a few cuss words. The captain of the blacks looks back very mad at the cavalry. Here was my opportunity, now or never. The Negro looked on, not seeming to care for the cavalry, Captain Orr for me. I took up my gun very gently and cocked it.

I had the gentleman. I had made up my mind if he advanced one step further that he was a dead man. When he turned to look again it was a look of surprise. His face was as red as a scalded beet, but in a moment was as white as a sheet. He was afraid to turn his head to give a command.

The cavalry motioned their hands at me as much as to say, Run, Johnny, run. The captain of the blacks fell upon his face and I broke and ran like a quarter horse. I never saw or heard any more of the captain of the blacks or his guard afterward. Look out, boys. One night five of us scouts, I thought all strangers to me, put up at an old gentleman's

house. I took him for a Catholic priest. His head was shaved and he had on a loose gown like a lady's dress and a large cord and tassel tied around his waist from which dangled a large bunch of keys. He treated us very kindly and hospitably so far as words and politeness went, but we had

to eat our own rations and sleep on our own blankets. At bedtime he invited us to sleep in a shed in front of his double log cabin. We all went in, lay down and slept. A little while before day the old priest came in and woke us up and said he thought he saw on the moonlight a detachment of cavalry coming down the road from toward the rebel

lines. One of our party jumped up and said there was a company of cavalry coming that way and then all four broke toward the old priest's room. I jumped up, put on one boot and holding the other in my hand, I stepped out on the yard with my hat and coat off, both being left in the room.

A Yankee captain stepped up to me and said, Are you number 200? I answered very huskily, No, sir, I'm not. We then went on in the house and on looking at the fence I saw there was at least 200 Yankee cavalry right at me. I did not know what to do.

My hat, coat, gun, cartridge box and knapsack were all in the room. I was afraid to stay there and was afraid to give the alarm. I soon saw almost every one of the Yankees dismount and then I determined to give the alarm and run. I halued out as loud as I could, Look out, boys, and broke and run.

I had to jump over a garden picket fence and as I lit on the other side, bang, bang, bang, was fired right after me. They stayed there but a short time and I went back and got my gun and other accoutrements. I'm captured. When I left the old priest's house it was then good day, nearly sun up, and I had started

back toward our lines and had walked on for about a half a mile, not thinking of danger, before Yankees jumped out in the middle of the road and said, Halt there, oh yes, we've got you at last. I was in for it. What could I do?

Their guns were cocked and leveled at me and if I started to run I would be shot. So I surrendered. In a very short time the regiment of Yankee cavalry came up and the first greeting I had was, Hello, you ain't number 200, are you? I was taken prisoner.

Today 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 got 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? Then 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 quizzical 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. He then gave me a close look and said, Ah, ah, 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 till 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 keyhole. 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 in the main entrance downstairs.

I peeped out 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 till I came to the old battlefield of July 22nd and made my way back to our lines. End of chapter 14