Chapter 15
CHAPTER XV. 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. What are you doing, Johnny? We are flanking. 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 Johnson. It took us four months in the first instance, and but a 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 halu over and say, Well, Johnny, have you got everything across?
Yes, would be the answer. Well, we want those 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 fella 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 it first.
The Germans 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 the 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 Captured 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 7-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. Hi-ya, hi-ya, hi-ya, ah-hee, hee, hee, if it ain't old master, show. The place was guarded by Negro troops.
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 let's just get out here on the railroad track and tear it up and pile up the cross-ties and then pile the iron on top of them, and we'll set the thing afire, and when the Yankees
come back they will say, What a bully fight them Naggers did make. A Yankee always says, Nagger. 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 blockhouse at Ringgold Gap who thought they would act
big. They said that Sherman had told them not to come out of that blockhouse anyhow, but General William B. Bate began 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 Yankees 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 hallowing 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. I was determined to find him, so I kept on hallowing 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. Tuscambia We arrived and remained at Tuscambia several days, awaiting the laying of the pontoons across the Tennessee River at Florence, Alabama, and then we all crossed over. While at Tuscambia 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 grabbing 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 pitched our moving tent a day's march nearer home. 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. 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 rusted 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 dying 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 unchawed feet. We 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 a bout 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 overseer 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. Jim tried to beg off, but all entreaty was in vain. He wanted to go by home and tell his wife and children good-bye and to get his clothes.
It was no go. But after a while Jim says, Gentlemen, I gany the law. You see, Jim knowed the law. He didn't know B from a bull's foot in the spelling book, but he said, The law. Now when anyone says anything about the law, everyone stops to listen.
Jim says, Ah, gany, the law, laying great stress upon the law, allows every man who has twenty Negroes to stay at home. Ah, gany. long, long ago forgotten about that old law of the long gone past, but Jim had treasured it up in his memory lo these many years and he thought it would serve him now as it had
no doubt frequently done in the past. The conscript officer said, Law or no law, you fall on the line, take this gun and cartridge box and march. Jim's spirits sank. His hopes vanished into air.
Jim was soon in line and was tramping to the music of the march. He stayed with the company two days. The third day it was reported that the Yankees had taken position on the Murfreesboro Pike. A regiment was sent to the attack. It was Jim's regiment.
He advanced bravely into battle. The mini-balls began to whistle around his ears. The regiment was ordered to fire. He hadn't seen anything to shoot at, but he blazed away. He loaded and fired the second time, when they were ordered to retreat.
He didn't see anything to run from, but the other soldiers began to run, and Jim run too. Jim had not learned the word halt and just kept on running. He run and he run and he run and kept on running until he got home, when he jumped in his door and shouted, Whippierota, I, Genny, I have served four years in the rebel army. End of chapter 15
