._,j_x;-t^w %t r€^-'t vr^rrv?"^^- -^^^ >^ L !^1 Class Book- i^^^;,. WALTER R. STEINER COLLECTION v~:<^ §e* '")-' > >^Ur J:^Ji^- «yj*~ .^/'^ ^'■^r^i^ '^^§^"^ *|t-«¥3' ^ // ^^ )r\ rNyx(7l-a^5- ^N ^ i*'^ .->^^ ' >-i^. f^^»fr 4^^^ t^'^^' ^^-i^/^^v '-^.'-^^ '^^ _.V ^ ^^Mm^J^.^ -\i t- rx • 1 --'-^'^^ ^^%: 'dm- > -f'Ss V w ^^ Kx ^^ "7/^ '' — ^ #*4 f' 'T r-' \^ f^ THE SMOKED YANK. BY Melvin Grigsby. SECOND EDITION. ILLUSTRATED CHICAGO : REGAN PRINTING COMPANY. 1891 COPYRIGHT 1888, By MELVIN GRIGSBY. BE«JU£St OF mU WALTER R. STEINBR 2)ebicatlon. V J) Zo tbe IReal Cbivalrg of tbe Soutb, ^^ tbe olD "Buntfes" an& "Tllnclee" anD Dalocous HJoung /Oben, eDlcateD aSs tbe Butbor. PUBLISHER'S NOTICE. Not long ago the publisher of this book and several others met in the office of Mr. Grigsby. The subject of our conversation was the reviving interest in war stories and reminiscences, evidenced by the prominence given to that class of literature by all the leading magazines of the day. Incidentally, Mr. Grigsby remarked that he had, in manuscript, a book written several years ago, narrating, what his sons called, his ' ' Adventures in the War," which he designed, sometime, to have published in pamphlet form for distribution among his relatives and friends. Having previously heard that his experiences as a soldier were of an un- usually varied and interesting character, my curiosity was aroused, and, yielding to my solicitations, Mr. Grigsby finally permitted me to see his manuscript. A careful reading convinced me that were it published in book form it would meet with a favorable reception, not only by the relatives and personal friends of the author, but also by thousands of veterans and sons of veterans, by all, in fact, who take an interest in the stirring incidents of our civil war. Frankly believing this, I persuaded Mr. Grigsby to have the book pub- lished under the title of the " Smoked Yank," and agreed to be responsible for the success of the enterprise. Whether or not my judgment was well- founded is for the public to determine. To my request for a preface, the author replied : ' ' You have assumed the responsibility, and if you deem that explanations or apologies are due the reader, n}.ake them yourself. " The publisher has none to offer. Sam T. Clover. PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION The real preface to this book is contained in the first .^hapter. This Second Edition, with Illustrations, goes out because the firsr; was received with favor by the public, and the Author is daily in receipt of orders which he cannot fill. The Author. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE. Tells how this Book came to be Written, - - - - - 13 CHAPTER II. I Rebel in order to Fight Rebellion—" The Girl I Left Beliind Me, " - 17 CHAPTER III. Camp Washburn — I get my Name in Print — Privates eat Sandwiches in tlie Rain while Officers have Champagne under Shelter — Benton Barracks — On the March — I make a rash Promise, - - 25 CHAPTRR IV. Helena — A Slave Owner in a bad fix — 'Forninst the Government" — Plantation Records — Memphis — Prohibition in the Army — Helping a Friend to Beat the Quartermaster, - - - - - 31 CHAPTER V. Vicksburg — Another Case of Beating U. S. — A Runaway Horse carries me into Close Quarters— Jackson and Canton — Have Trouble with Uncle Tommy and leave the Regiment, - - - - 38 CHAPTER VI. I get a Leave of Absence and have some Fim with the Boys — Helping Planters to Market Cotton — "An Atheist's Laugh a Poor Exchange for Deity Offended, " — Captured by Guerillas, - - - 46 CHAPTER VII. Samples of Chivalry — Joking with a Jolmny — Helping to fill up the Sets — A wearisome March without Food, except for Reflection — Too angry to eat, - - • - - - 56 CHAPTER VIII. " To the Victors belong the Spoils" — I lose my Suspenders — A jolly Rebel Rascal — A Captain of the Horse Marines, - - - 68 CHAPTER IX. Moved to Cahaba, Alabama — A little Leaven for the Loaf — I Borrow Books, write Notes, and become Sentimental — A promising Ro mance nipped in the Bud, - - - - - - 75 CHAPTER X. Cahaba Revisited in 1884— A Delightful Ride— The Freedmeu of the South —A Deserted Village — An old Mansion — Mrs. Gardner, "the Friend of the Unfortunate," - - - - - - 80 CHAPTER XI. We leave Cahaba — A Song Battle— "Let the Damn Yanks Starve" — We enter Andereonville — Walking Mummies and Smoked Skele- tons — Discouraging Prospects, - - - - - - 90 CHAPTER XII. "Answer at Roll-Call, draw Rations and fight Lice" — Scenes at the Dead-Line, - ----- 98 CHAPTER XIII. Extra Rations — Flanking-Out — Cooked Rations — The Huckster's Cry and the Peddler's Call — The Plymouth Pilgrims — Dead Yankees become Articles of Merchandise^! buy a Corpse and tapce pure Air — Repeating, - - ----- - loi CHAPTER XIV. The Raiders — "Limber Jim " ^ — The Regulators — Execution of the Raiders, - - - - - - - - 114 CHAPTER XV. Escapes— Blood-Hounds — Tortures — Digging Tunnels A Benedict Ar- nold — Shooting a Cripple — The Hospital — SickCall— A Small-Pox Scare, - - - - - - - - - 124 CHAPTER XVI. Condition of the Prison in July and August — Rebel Statistics — Why we were not Exchanged — Andersonville Revenged — This a Republic ! - 124 CHAPTER XVII. Outlines of a Picture. ----... 142 CHAPTER XVIII How I Manage to Live — My Bunk-Mate goes to the Hospital — I secure a Corner Lot and get into Trade — Sherman's Fine-Tooth Combs and Scissors — Removal to Florence, South Carolina, - - 146 CHAPTER XIX. I go for Water at.d Escape — A Faithful People — A Novel Character — A Comical Hero, -.--... 156 CHAPTER XX. "Hell Hath no Fury like a Woman Scorned "—A Badly Scared Negro — Captured by a Fourteen-year-old Boy — In a Felon's Cell, - - 166 CHAPTER XXI. Another Stockade — A Meaner Man than Wirz — Out on Parole — The Smuggled Steer — Notes from a Diary, . . . . 177 CHAPTER XXII. Parole of Honor Played Out— A Scheme for Escape — All is fair in Love and War — Bribing a Yankee with a Rebel's Money — I go after Shakes and do not Return, - - - - - - 190 CHAPTER XXIII. Blood-Hounds in Sight — Wake u]> the Wrong Family— Gentlemen (very little) of Color — I play that lam a Slave Owner and talk with Rebel Soldiei-s, - - - - • - - - 199 CHAPTER XXIV. A Pressing Invitation — I Paddle a Canoe— Am caught in a "Niggah Qua'tah"^A Chivalrous Lady pleads my Cause — A Night in a Swamp, -------.. 205 CHAPTER XXV. I steal Mules and take a Ride — A well laid Scheme " Gang Aft Aglee" Some Dangei'ous Places — Crossing the Salkahatchie, - - 217 CHAPTER XXVI. "The Girl I Left Behind Me "—The grand old Flag and the Boys in Blue — I am Dubbed The Smoked Ya7ik, ^ - j - - - 230 ILLUSTRATIONS Kit and Betty, old friends of my boyliood. Escape of General Pillow. A slave-owner in a bad fix. The charge of a runaway horse. ' ' What in liell are you pointing -your gun at this Yank f orV He is my prisoner." The captain of the "Sea Horse Cavalry" loses his boots. We enter Anderson ville. Shot at the dead line. Dead Yankees become articles of merchandise. "If you 'uns thought dah' was Yanks m dis wagon I could jus' dance juba on you 'uns coat tails." Captured by a fourteen-year-old boy. Bloodhounds in sight. ' ' Eager for a glimpse of the damsel. " "Say, dah, young massa ! Can you paddle a canoe?" Guided through a swamp by rvmaway slaves. ' ' There, with colors flying and band j)laying, go the boys in blue. " The Smoked Yank. CHAPTER I. TELLS HOW THIS BOOK CAME TO BE WRITTEN. For nearly twenty years I have been about to write this book. I came home from the war in 1865, a boy of only twenty years, but with a discharge that showed almost four years' serv-ice in the army. How vividly I recall this scene — getting off the stage at my native village I started to my country home on foot. Ascend- ing a hill, I saw over the top a team coming towards me, Kit and Betty, old friends of my boyhood. My first rides were on their backs. But who is driving? Can it be father? He looks too old to be father. I stopped in the road. The bowed head was raised. Who could paint the changes that came over his face as he came toward me? He has told me since that he was thinking of me and wondering if he would ever hear of me again, when, raising his head to try and drive away his sorrowful thoughts, he saw me standing in the road. His lost boy. More than a year of anxious watching and waiting since those lines had been received saying, "Your son has been t^ken prisoner," and in all that time not another. word, and then when trying to resolve to give me up, to raise his eyes and see me standing in the road, it was indeed a surprise. 14 THE SMOKED YANK. My sons, never keep back glad tidings from anxious parents to give them a greater surprise. I ought to have sent them word of my safety at the earhest possible moment after reaching the Union lines. That was twenty years ago, and your grandfather looks as young to-day as he did then — he had been worrying. Coming home from the war an escaped prisoner — supposed to have died in Andersonville, I told my story very willingly to willing ears for awhile, and then it got to be tedious, even to me. For several weeks I was the hero of that neighbor- hood. Visitors thronged my father's house to see the escaped prisoner and to hear of Andersonville and other rebel prison pens, and of my escape. To each new party, I told the story until to me it grew old and stale, and, to avoid continuous repetition, I declared my intention of writing it up for publication. When I tried to do so, I found that to hold a little audience of friends and relatives in seeming rapt attention, was vastly easier than to write a connected and readable narrative of the same incidents. I often began, but never advanced to the end of a satisfactory beginning, and finally postponed the work until I should acquire through reading and education a better command of language. Thus I became a veritable procrastinator — though continually postponed, the purpose of writing my experiences in the war and publishing the narrative in book form was always present — I was always about to begin. To new friends £ nd acquaintances of my school life, I would occasionally relate some incident of prison THE SMOKED YANK. 15 life or escape and seldom found unwilling ears to listen, or lack of encouragement when I mentioned my inten- tion of writing a book. Whether they were, many of them, bored by my monopolizing the conversation and making myself the big ego, and thought the readiest way to escape further infliction was to advise and encourage the book plan, has often since been a question in my mind, especially when I have realized how easily I find it to be thoroughly bored in a similar way. Nevertheless, that self-appointed task was never more than postponed. It has continued to be both my waking dream and the cause of much self-condemna- tion for not having performed the work earlier. At first the fancied distinction to be acquired was probably my strongest inducement to write. Later the idea of great gain by means of such a book was not absent. But now as I begin, I trust for the last time, to carry out the long-cherished and often abandonded scheme, neither the desire for notoriety nor the hope of gain, is the moving cause. Other hopes and dreams and plans of those twenty years that have gone have not been fruitless — my home is not now my father's house — there has been a cradle in my own, babies on my knee, and, now two boys, one nine and one ten, with the life of Alexander, of Hanni- bal, and of Caesar fresh in mind, are ever teasing me to tell them of my life as a soldier. " Papa» did you have any adventures when you were in the war?" says Sioux. " O, yes, I had a good many, such as they were," '* Tell them to us," says 1 6 THE SMOKED YANK. George, "we would rather hear about yours than read those in the books." And when I tell them some and then speak of time for bed, I know from the look of keen interest in their bright eyes, and the reluctance with which they go, that they have not been bored. And I tell them I will begin at once and write my adventures, as they call them, all out, and have a little book printed for them to read. " Oh, won't that be jolly," says George, "to have a book all about Papa." "And I guess mamma and grandpa, too, and lots of other folks will want to read it," says Sioux. They go to bed and I begin. If I do not finish before these boys are too old or too wise to care for so plain a tale in such crude fashion told, then perhaps boys of theirs may come and prize the book grand- father wrote, and perhaps some old soldier, worn with toil and weary of the present days, may let it lead him back to the old camp ground or prison pen, and thus beguile a pleasant kour. CHAPTER II. I REBEL IN ORDER TO FIGHtT REBELLION. — "tHE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME." As it is easier to describe the actions of men than it is to set forth the thoughts, feelings and motives that moved them to action, so I expect to find much less difficulty in narrating all that I did or saw, worthy of mention while a soldier, than in telling why I be- came one. I had not passed my sixteenth birthday when the war began. I was a farmer's boy. Had been brought up on a farm near the village of Potosi, in Grant county, Wisconsin. A few winters at school in the old log school house of our district and two or three terms at the school in the village, had been my opportunities for education. You, boys, have already read more books than I had at that time. Such books for boys as Abbott's Series of Histories had not then been written, and probably would not have found their way to many log farm houses if they had been. But I had read the History of the American Revolution, had spoken at school the famous speech of Patrick Henry, and I loved the soul-stirring strains of the Star Spangled Banner. My grandfather was a soldier of the war of 1812. His grandfather, who was known as "Revolu- tionary John," fought in the war of the Revolution. Many of the leading incidents of the history of the gountry, especially of the wars and of the early settle- 1 8 THE SMOKED YANK. ments in Virginia and Kentucky had been handed down from father to son in stories and traditions, and to these I have always been an eager listener. I was well posted too, on the political questions that had for a long time agitated the country, for I had been a constant reader of Horace Greeley's New York Weekly Tribune. I can remember well the drubbings I used to get at the village school when the boys di- vided for snow-balling, into Fremonters and Buchan- anites. The Fremonters, to which I belonged, were largely in the minority. I can remember, too, the woes of "bleeding Kansas," and how I used to urge my father to take me with him out to Kansas so that we might help to put down the " border ruffians " from Missouri. The firing on Fort Sumpter was quickly followed by Lincoln's proclamation calling for seventy-five thousand volunteers. These were to serve for three months. A company was at once formed at Potosi. I wanted to go. The men who had so long been threatening to dissolve the Union because they could not have political matters their own way, had at last fired upon the national flag, upon the Stars and Stripes. As I saw in imagination the bombardment of Fort Sumpter, and the hauling down of the dear old flag, it seemed to me that I could see too, the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, the "starving time " of the Jamestown settlement, the Indian massacres: the battles of Lex- ington and Bunker Hill and Brandywine; Washington crossing the Delaware; the awful winter at Valley Forge; the heroic deeds of Marion, and Sumpter, and THE SMOKED TANK. 19 Jasper, and Newton; the glorious victories of our navy in the War of 1812; every scene of hardship and of heroism that had helped to win for us and to preserve for us our proud position among the nations of the earth, of which that dear old flag was the emblem, came trooping up in memory. " The mystic chords of mem- ory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave" had indeed been "touched" but not "by the better angels of our nature." Such were the thoughts and feelings that impelled me with an almost irresistible impulse to volunteer as a soldier and help to chastise the traitors who had insult- ed the flag. Such, at least, are the thoughts and feel- ings that I would have described had I then attempted to explain why I wanted to be a soldier. There was another reason which I would not have given then, and I cannot even now without a blush ; I was desperately in love. If there was any doubt about my desire to do battle for my country from purely pat- riotic motives, there was certainly none about my readiness to go to the wars, or to engage in any other affair of the knight-errantry order that might win smiles of approval from the girl I loved. But I could not go. I was the second in a family of eight children, all girls, except myself and the youngest. My father had gone to Pike's Peak, in the spring of i860. In the fall of that year he had started to cross the mountains and we had not since heard from him — I could not leave my mother with the management of the farm and the support of the family on her hands. I saw that company formed in line, dressed in their stylish 20 THE SMOKED TANK. new uniforms of gray, heard the farewell speeches, saw flags and swords presented, saw them receive the warmest of kisses from all the lovely maidens for good- bye, and I turned away with a heavy heart, with tears of sore regret, and went back to my dull farm-work. That was my last summer's work on a farm, and I have always been proud of the record I made. Besides putting in and tending the crops on all the ploughed land, I had twelve acres of land, on which there was a heavy growth of saplings and underbrush, grubbed and broken. We raised an excellent crop. I did not neglect the farm, altnough my heart was not in the work. iNIo boy of adventurous disposition who has an inherited love for dog, and horse, and gun, will ever be content on a farm while there is war in his own country. I had owned a dog and gun, and had been a hunter from the time I was eight years old, and I could ride like an Arab. My leisure hours during that spring and summer were devoted to such exercise as I thought would best fit me for the cavalry service. I took lessons in sword exercise from a man in the village, kept a young horse for my exclusive use and practiced hjm jumping over fences and ditches, riding down steep hills at full gallop, and shooting from his back. The harvesting was all done and the grain ready for stacking when father got home. He had been snowed up all winter in the mountains of Colorado. My first thought was, now I can go to the war. My cousin, James F. Ayars, had enlisted in the 7th Wis. In- fantry, and I tried hard to persuade my father to let me THE SMOKED TANK. 21 go in the same company. He thought I was too young — said that if I went into the army and survived the war, my opportunity for securing an education would be gone. He did not believe a boy would retain a desire for education through years of soldier life. He offered to send me away to school, and as the academy to which he proposed sending me was at Lancaster, the county seat, where the object of my boyish affections was then living, I concluded to follow his advice, and accept his offer. Early in September I was duly installed as one of the pupils at the Academy, but I could not shake of the desire to take part in the war. In the latter part of November, C. C. Washburn, afterward General, came to Lancaster and made arrangements to have a com- pany of cavalry recruited in that county. I went at once to the recruiting office. Was told that I would not be taken without the written consent of my father. How was this to be obtained ? I sat in school that afternoon with a book open before me thinking over the situation. Classes to which I belonged were called, but I was so deeply engaged in meditation that I took no heed. All at once the thought came to my mind that thousands of the young men who were at the front had left schools and offices and clerkships and, by serv- ing their country, were losing opportunities for education and for professional and business advancement— that the country would have but few defenders if only those who could do so without sacrifice were to volunteer — these thoughts flashed into my mind, as sunshine some- times flashes through a rift in the clouds, and seemed 22 THE SMOKED TANK. to make the path of duty plain. I gathered up my books and without so much as by your leave, to the professor or any one else, I walked out of the school- room. In the twinkling of an eye an obedient son, who never before had dreamed of wilfully disobeying his father's command, had been transformed into an un- compromising rebel. Out of doors a cold sleeting rain was falling, and the wind blowing, but what would a soldier amount to who cared for a driving wind with sleet and rain? To procure a horse and gallop him over the twelve miles to my father's house was but an hour of sport. The family were at supper when I entered dripping with water and splashed with mud. "Why, what in the world ? " said mother. "What brought you home through such a storm ? " " Soldiers don't care for storms, mother," I replied, and as I spoke my father looked into my eyes. He saw that I had crossed the rubicon. That night we talked it over. I told him that I had resolved to be a soldier, and that if he did not give his consent, so that I could go in the company for our own county, it would only cause me to find some other place where I could enlist without any consent. He gave his consent but with great reluctance. Boys, I was wrong, but I did not then think so — no argument or persuasion could at that time have created a doubt in my mind. " Honor thy father and thy mother and thy days shall be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee," has a different meaning to me now. I can see now that if I had remained at school in THE SMOKED YANK. 23 obedience to my parents' wishes, although they might have erred in requiring me so to do, the responsibility would have been theirs, not mine. "But what became of the girl?" says one of my boys after listening to this point. So that's the way the wind blows already is it? You would rather have a love story than a war story would you? Well, boys, there isn't much to tell in the love story line. I shouldn't have mentioned the little there is were it not to let you see how nearly related love of country, which we call patriotism, is to all the other noble pas- sions. No boy can truly love a chaste and modest maiden without having all the better qualities of his nature quickened and developed. He no sooner feels the tender passion than he wants to look better and do better, and be better. The fires of ambition are usually kindled by love of woman. One of the most refined and intellectual mothers that I ever knew used often to say that she never had any anxiety whatever about her boys when they were in love. She said there was no danger then of their forming any loaferish or ungentle- manly habits. If she was right, and I believe she was, I had little opportunity for bad habits when I was a boy, for I was almost always in love. My affection for Helen began when we were but children; I was but thirteen and she a half year older in years, but many years older in man- ners and in the knowledge of social etiquette. I was an awkward country jake, she a village belle, admired by all the village beaux. It was not her handsome face nor her graceful, slender form, nor her bright and 24 THE SMOKED YANK. laughing eyes that took my fancy, but all of these com- bined with a daring and venturous disposition. I taught her to ride on horseback, to fish, and to shoot, these were the sports that we both loved beet. We ran races, swam our horses across rivers, shot wild pigeons, and even stole apples and water melons out of pure devil- ment, for we had an abundance of them at home. Yet I never went to see her openly or avowedly as a lover. I was too bashful, too green, perhaps, for that. She and my oldest sister were chums, and I tried hard to chum with her youngest brother. I used often to walk two miles to town after a hard day's work for no other purpose than to meet her, if possible, by chance. Have often hid behind a bunch of lilac bushes and thrown gravel stones at her chamber window, striving thus to catch even a glimpse of her face. If you should ever visit your grandfather's old homestead, go down into the pasture, and there, beside an old road you will see an oak tree with twenty-one scars, one above the other. Each of them represents a blow of my axe and a word of a vow made to Helen. These are pleasant memories. Your Aunt Alice could perhaps tell you more. After I had enlisted and just before my company started for the war, she arranged that never-to-be-forgotten visit that I made to the dear old home with " another not a sister." Ask your aunt to show you two pictures that she has in one case. One of your father taken when he was sixteen, the other, taken on the same day, of " the girl I left behind me." CHAPTER III. CAMP WASHBURN — I GET MY NAME IN PRINT — PRIVATES EAT SANDWICHES IN THE RAIN, WHILE OFFICERS HAVE CHAMPAGNE UNDER SHELTER — BENTON BARRACKS — ON THE MARCH — I MAKE A RASH PROMISE. At the time I enlisted, the company was quartered at Patch Grove, in Grant county. There we were drilled until about January ist, 1862, when we joined the remainder of the regiment at Camp Washburn, in Milwaukee. That was a hard, cold winter, often referred to as the winter of the deep snow. The barracks were large board shanties, filled with two-story bunks for the men to sleep on; there was an adjoining room to eat in. These shanties were so open that a laconic English boy was not far wrong when he said: "The crocks in the domed old barracks are so big that you could fling a robbit through them anywhere." The cold quarters, the drills in the snow, and the coarse food were the cause of much grumbling. Few of the privates went through these months at Camp Wash- burn without having their patriotic ardor considerably cooled. Some wrote complaining letters for publication in the Grant County Herald. The contrast between these hardships and the comforts and enjoyments of home was probably as great in my case as in that of any one in the company, but I did not suffer my ardor to cool. Had I done so, my father could have said: "I told you so." 26 THE SMOKED TANK. I made a good many enemies by writing a letter to the Herald, in which I claimed that we were faring sumptuously for soldiers, and that those who grumbled most did not live so well when at home. That was my first effort at getting into print, and I came so near being thrashed for it, that I have never since felt a long- ing to whack anybody through the columns of a news paper. One day we were marched to the city through a driving storm for review. When we had splashed around through slush and mud, and falling rain, and snow, until we had been reviewed and reviewed by some fellows who stood on a covered porch dressed in broadcloth and brass buttons, silk scarfs and plumed hats, we were formed in columns of fours in front of the Newhall House, and there we stood in the snow and rain while the fellows who wore the shoulder straps partook of champagne and like luxuries, within. A sandwich and a cup of coffee had been provided for each of us. Had the officers fared as the men did, all would have been well. Had there been no storm, it wouldn't have been so bad. My ideas about all men being created free and equal, were badly demoralized on that occasion. For once, I had nothing to say when others grumbled. Not one of that crowd of officers became distin- guished. Hundreds of the privates who stood there in line, are now in everything that goes to make up man- hood, head and shoulders above a large majority of those who then wore the shoulder straps. The officers who succeeded best in commanding volunteer American soldiers, were those who roughed it with the men. Who THE SMOKED TANK. Vj ever heard of Sheridan, or Sherman, or Grant keep- ing men in Hne in a storm, while he feasted in a hotel? My file leader in the company was Horace C. Carr. He was a man of medium height, black hair and eyes, broad across the shoulders and thighs, had long arms, and was knock-kneed. Carr could not learn to keep step. One day when we were drilling, I kicked his heel to remind him that he was out of step. He got mad and threatened to box my ears. I expressed an earnest de- sire to have him commence at once. Had n't the least doubt in the world that I could beat him in a fight He looked me over in his peculiar, sneering way, and then said: " Sonny, did you come away to get weaned? " I afterward found out that there were few, if any,, men in the company who could handle Carr, and, not- withstanding this stormy beginning of our acquaintance, Carr afterward became as warm a friend to me as any man ever had. In March, we were transferred to Benton Barracks, near St. Louis. There we drilled two months more, waiting for arms and horses. In June, having received arms and horses, we were transported on boats to Jeffer- son City, and from there began our first march, which brought us to Springfield, Mo. Resting there a few days, we started on what, up to that time, was the longest march or raid of the war. This was the march of General Curtis from Springfield to Helena, Arkansas. At that time, the policy of the Government was to whip the rebels without hurting their feelings. Nothing in the way of forage was to be taken without paying for 28 THE SMOKED TANK. it. We must pass through the country and leave the growing crops uninjured, leave the slaves there to do the work, leave cattle, hogs, horses and mules; nothing was to be touched or injured unless absolutely required for the subsistence of the army, and even then, vouchers were given. Before starting out on this march, orders were read to the troops in accordance with this govern- ment policy. It is needless to say that the private soldiers had more sense. Whenever they heard of a farm that belonged to a rebel in arms, they paid it a visit if they could and took whatever they wanted in the line of forage and provision. Some of the officers tried hard at first to enforce the orders against this foraging. We were commanded to keep in ranks while marching, formed in line and roll called before camping, and then a chain guard was placed around the camp to keep us from getting out. My recollection is that I did not during that march let a day go by without making a raid on my own hook upon the resources of the enemy. I used to slip out of the ranks, get what forage I wanted, then keep the regiment in sight until I saw them halting for camp, when I would slip back as they were forming for roll-call, as that was always a time of confusion. About the third night out, I got back from my raid too late. The regiment was in camp and guards sta- tioned. I tried to slip in through the brush, but a guard saw and captured me. Tried to divide with him and get off, but he wasn't that kind. He took me to Col. Washburn's tent. I had honey, two hams, some chickens, and some bundles of oats for my horse. These things were all unloaded into the tent, and then the colonel THE SMOKED TANK. 29 read the riot act. I told him I didn't beheve in going hungry or starving my horse, while the rebels, whose country we were in, had plenty. The colonel admitted that he wasn't in love with the government policy him- self, but he said that he was under orders, and he would obey whether he liked them or not, and he put it to me whether that wasn't the right thing for every soldier to do. I had to admit that it was. Then he said that if I would promise to ride in the ranks and obey orders thereafter, he would excuse me this time. I promised and I was then permitted to go to my company. That night when I began to think it over, I re- gretted having made such a promise. Would just as soon plough corn as ride in the ranks in hot weather over dusty roads. That was one of the hardships of war that I had not counted on. The next morning I told Captain Woods and Lieutenant Riley what had occurred, and that I didn't believe I wanted to be bound by any such agreement. I asked them whether it would do to go to the colonel and take it back. They thought that was the best thing for me to do if I didn't mean to keep the promise; so to the colonel I went. I told him that after thinking it over, I concluded to take back the promise I had made. He was at breakfast, and ham, and chicken, and honey were on his bill of fare. He looked at me a moment, and I could see that his frown had to struggle with a smile, but he managed to look angry as he thundered out: " Go to your company, sir, I will make an example of you. Your impudence is worse than your disobedience." A moment after, our pickets were fired on and we formed in line of battlq 30 THE SMOKED TANK. where we remained all day expecting attack, and I sup- pose the colonel forgot to fulfill his promise to make an example of me, for I never heard anything more about it. During this march I got into a quarrel with a big six-footer, and was in a fair way to be well pommeled when Horace Carr interfered. He said to the big fellow: " I aint very large myself, but I am full grown and used to being licked; if you are dying for a fight, let the boy alone and amuse yourself with me." There was no fight, but from that time on Carr and myself were friends. During the march all of the soldiers supposed the objective point to be Little Rock, and we expected a hard battle there, for we learned from the negroes as we approached that place, that great preparations were being made to receive us. We reached Clarendon, east of Little Rock without any fighting, except now and then a skirmish with guerrillas. There we turned to the east, marched rapidly all night, and went into Helena on the Mississippi. I was one of the advance guard as we charged into the town. Had we been a few minutes earlier, we could have captured the rebel general, Pillow. He was crossing the river on an old flat-boat, and was some distance from the farther shore when we rode up to the bank of the river. CHAPTER IV. HELENA — A SLAVE-OWNER IN A BAD FIX — " FORNINST THE GOVERNMENT " — PLANTATION RECORDS — MEMPHIS PRO- HIBITION IN THE ARMY — HELPING A FRIEND TO BEAT THE QUARTERMASTER. We remained at Helena from early in July until late in January. The country back of the town to the North is high and perhaps healthy. South, East, and West are the low bottom lands full of swamps and bayous. The town is on low ground protected by a levee from overflow. It is, or was then, a sickly hole. Fever and ague and other diseases which make short work of a northern man who goes there in July, carried off at least ten per cent of our regiment. Helena is in the cotton belt. There were thousands of negroes on the cotton plantations. The government was at that time trying to save the Union and slavery too. The negroes came into Helena by hundreds. Their masters would follow them in and get permits to take them back. The privates, many of us were not in accord with the Government on the negro question. We used to follow the masters when they started away with their slaves, release the slaves and convince the masters that it would be best to keep away from camp . On one occasion, Carr and I saw a man leave town with a lot of his negroes who had run away. We fol- lowed him out about ten miles and then stopped him. We sent the negroes baqk to town, took the master'^ A Sl^AVE OWNER IN A BAD FIX. 32 THE SMOKED YANK. horse, and told him to stay out of Helena. Carr asked me to ride back with the negroes, as they were afraid other slave-owners would arrest them, while he would conceal .himself and see if the enraged master would attempt to follow us into camp. Before I got back to town Carr overtook me leading another captured horse. He absolutely refused to answer any questions, and, fearing that the man had started to follow us back, and that Carr had killed him, I was willing that silence should be maintained. A few weeks after, I saw this slave-owner in town. He wasn't trying to take out negroes any more. I pointed him out to Carr, who then told me what had happened before. He saw the man coming on a horse, waylaid him, took him into the woods and handcuffed his hands around a tall tree and left him there. Carr had found the handcuffs on a plantation where they had been used in disciplining negroes, and he carried them in his saddle-bags as a curiosity; said he left the man near the traveled road so that there would be no question about his being released. All that summer we carried on a warfare of that kind against what we believed to be the mistaken policy of the government. It had a bad effect on the soldiers. They got to be like Irishmen when they land in New York, '' forninst the government." The government tried to protect rebels in their property. The soldier said, "a rebel's property belongs to the government, but if the government won't have it, I will," especially a soldier who was kept where there was no fighting to do. After a while the boys ceased to make any distinc- THE SMOKED YANK. 33 tion between captured and other government property. I remember that a boat load of Irish potatoes was un- loaded on the wharf at Helena; they were scarce down there, and in great demand. An infantry soldier was on guard over them. We wanted some of those pota- toes. That night we borrowed some muskets from in- fantry men, obtained the countersign, and when the guard at the pile of potatoes had been on duty until his two hours were nearly up, we marched up with a pre- tended relief guard and relieved him. He went to camp and we carried off potatoes. Of course, that was wrong, but such acts were fre- quently committed, without conscientious scruples, by honest men, because they had lost respect for the gov- erment, on account of the policy that was being pursued. It seemed to us that the government gave more thought and care to the protection of the property and rights of rebels than to the safety and comfort of men who had enlisted to fight for the Union, While at Helena I was taken with chills and fever. An overseer on one of General Pillow's plantations of- fered to take me to his house and cure me. I went with him . There had been nearly two hundred negroes on that plantation; not one was left. The government didn't go quite so far as to return runaway negroes to a rebel general and keep them at work. That man and his wife had two sons. They were both in the rebel army. One had been wounded and was taken prisoner. They nursed and doctored me with as much care as they could have bestowed on one of their own boys. It 34 THE SMOKED TANK. gave them a feeling of security to have a Union soldier in their house. On that plantation I used to read the records kept by the overseer. It seems that every overseer of a large plantation kept a daily record. That record showed that there were negroes whipped, bucked and gagged, and otherwise punished every day. Every negro who came from the field with less than his stint of cotton, received so many lashes. I saw there the same kind of instruments of torture that I afterward saw in Andersonville. One machine was rigged for stretching negroes over a large roller, so that the lash could be applied to the bare skin. If anyone believes that the cruelties practised on the slaves were exagger- ated in Uncle Tom's Cabin, let him hunt up and read one of those plantation records. Except a few unimportant raids and a little scout- ing, we might as well have been infantry men during all these months at Helena. About February ist, we were transported on boats up to Memphis. I rode from the steamboat out to the camp ground in a storm of sleet and snow; and before tents were pitched for shelter, was wet and nearly frozen. Caught a bad cold, which terminated in pneumonia; was taken to the hospital. The doctors said my health had been so badly broken by fever and ague that it would be impossible forme to survive this attack of pneumonia. Their conclusion was telegraphed to my parents. Carr helped to carry me to the hospital and never left me until I was out of danger. One night when I had been unconscious for twentv-four hours, it seemed THE SMOKED TANK. 35 that I was awakened by some one rubbing my feet. I could see and hear, but could not move or speak. The doctor, the steward, and Carr were close to me, and the doctor said to the others that I would be gone before morning. When the others went away I managed to make Carr understand that I was conscious and hungry. He fed me; I told him I was going to fool that doctor, and then went to sleep. In the morning, I woke up out of danger; was able to walk when my mother got there. She took me to a private boarding-house and staid with me until I was entirely well. Soldier life at Memphis was very nearly a repeti- tion of that of Helena. Our camp was surrounded by a chain of guards and we were not permitted to go away from camp without a pass. Our adventures were chiefly of the disorderly kind. How to get out of camp, take in the city, and then get back without being arrested, was the question. I went to the city three times as often as I would have gone had there been no camp guard to prevent. The selling of liquor to soldiers at the saloons, or by anyone, was for- bidden. Before that order was issued, I seldom thought of drinking anything. After the order was issued, I never went into the city without finding a place where the order could be evaded. Such rules and orders have that effect on most young men. When we were at Helena, rations of whisky were issued to us, and half of the soldiers wouldn't touch it. Most all of them who refused whisky at Helena, drank every time they could get anything to drink at Memphis. The regiment went out on one raid before I was 36 THE SMOKED TANK. able to ride. Carr brought back a captured horse. He bought it from another man who captured it. The men who captured horses and mules always sold them if they could. The regimental quartermaster always confiscated all such property if he could. Between him and the soldiers there was continual strife. Carr expected to get out of the ranks with his purchase before getting back to camp, but he was so closely watched that he could not. Early the next morning the quartermaster was around taking a list of captured property, and of course he put down Carr's horse. He had a particular grudge against myself and Carr because we had so often outwitted him. I was at that time permitted to ride where I pleased, because I had not yet been reported fit for duty. The horses were all taken every morning and evening through the city to the river to water. Each man rode one horse and led another. An officer went in charge of each company, and he had to bring back as many men and horses as he took out. The officer of the guard counted them out and in. Carr led his pur- chase out at watering call. I desired to help him if pos- sible, so I rode out afterward and overtook the watering party. I told Carr to get in the rear coming back from the river. I took the saddle off from my horse and left it at a stable; got on bareback. Watching for a chance when the column returning from the river turned a corner in the city, and the officer in charge could not see the rear of his company, I rode my horse quickly in between the one Carr rode and the one he led, slipped from my horse on to the other, and Carr took my horse THE SMOKED TANK. 37 back to camp. That made the count all correct. I left Carr's horse at a stable, got into a hack and was driven to the camp, and was in Captain Woods' tent when the men and horses returned. The quartermaster soon came in swearing mad, and required Captain Woods to produce the captured horse.- The captain was not friendly to Carr, and he entered with great zeal into the search for the missing horse. The officer that had been to the river declared that Carr brought back the horse he took to water. Some of the boys knew better, but they wouldn't give us away. That let Carr out. Then the quartermaster accused me on general principles. The captain declared that I was writing in his tent when the men came back with the horses, and he knew I did n't have anything to do with it. Then he said to the quartermaster: '' That horse was hitched to the picket-rope this morning when you listed him, and if you have let some one take him away in broad daylight, do n't you blame me for it." I always made out the pay-rolls for the company, and had been at work on them that morning in the cap- tain's tent. I went back to work; the captain came in. He looked at me awhile, and then said: " Melvin, how did you manage to get that horse out of camp?" I told him all about it; never attempted to conceal anything from either Captain Woods or Lieutenant Riley, and neither of them would catch me doing anything wrong if he could possibly avoid it. Carr sold his horse so as to clear $40. CHAPTER V. VICKSBURG — ANOTHER CASE OF BEATING U. S. — A RUNAWAY HORSE CARRIES ME INTO CLOSE QUARTERS— JACKSON AND CANTON — HAVE TROUBLE WITH UNCLE TOMMY AND LEAVE THE REGIMENT. In May we were transported in boats down to Vicksburg and up the Yazoo river to Hains' Bluff. There we went into camp to help watch Johnson who was waiting for a chance to raise the siege. We had something to do there; raiding, and scouting parties out every day. Once we crossed the Yazoo, and made a raid into the Running Water country. We captured a large herd of cattle and some prisoners and horses. I captured a'fine young mare. An officer of the 7th Kansas cavalry offered to give me $60 if I would bring the mare to his camp without letting her get branded. When the quartermaster once got his U. S. brand on a horse's shoulder, no one would buy. When we got to the river on our return, the brigade quartermaster was there to take charge of all the cap- tured property. He stood on the steam ferry-boat as the horses were loaded for crossing, and permitted no horse to go on board without the U. S. brand. I took in the situation while another regiment was being ferried. Then I chewed the end of a stick into a brush, got some tar from the hub of an old-fashioned wagon, and made U. S. with tar on my captured horse; worked the tar well into the hair, then rubbed it off with sand THE SMOKED TANK. 39 until I had a fine brand, I had to tell my captain what I was up to, as each captain was required to stand at the gang-plank to assist the quartermaster as his company went on board. I took my horse on first, and then went back and brought up the rear with my captured mare. The captain managed to move away as I led the mare up the plank, and the " U. S." was so plain that no ques- tions were asked. When our regiment was alone or at the head of a column during a raid, my company was in advance of the regiment. A boy named Lynn Cook, and myself, nearly always rode as videttes or scouts, in advance of the advance guard. I do n't remember how it came about, but this place was always accorded to. Cook and myself, probably because we had keen eyes and good horses, and never failed to discover the enemy. We had skirmishes with Johnson's cavalry almost every day. One day the patrol guard went out, under Lieutenant Showalter — twelve or fifteen men. Cook and myself being advance guards. We saw three rebels coming toward us. We supposed them to be the ad- vance, as they were, of a larger party. Without hav- ing been seen, we rode back and reported, and asked the lieutenant to let us hide in a fence corner and cap- ture the Johnnies. He would not, but formed us in line on the side of the road where the rebels could n't possibly get nearer than one hundred yards without seeing us. They came riding carelessly along, one of them sitting sideways on his horse. We were all ready, and when they caught sight of us the lieutenant said, "fire.'' 4© THE SMOKED TANK. Not a man was touched, but as they wheeled to ran, the one sitting sideways was knocked off and captured. I was riding a little race horse that had been cap- tured at Fort Pillow. He had both speed and endur- ance, but he would n't stand fire. On this occasion, as soon as the volley was fired, he bolted with me and dashed after the two rebels that were running away. They had a hundred yards the start, but in less than a quarter of a mile I was within a few rods of them. I had been trying all the time to stop my horse, and only managed to pull him up when about to run into a whole company of rebels that came dashing up the road to support their advance. Had the two Johnnies who supposed I was chasing them, not been in the way, I should certainly have been shot by the others. My horse once turned, carried me swifty back, nor did I try to hold him. Immediately after the surrender of Vicksburg we crossed the Big Black river, and started in pursuit of Johnson's army. I never could understand why Sher- man did not crush Johnson at Jackson. I was detailed as an orderly for General Parkes, who commanded the 9th corps. The 9th corps was on our left. There was some fighting. I rode back and forth along our lines every day carrying messages, and could see that the rebels were withdrawing, leaving only a skirmish line behind their breast-works. In company with a man from the signal corps, I went on top of the insane asylum with Gen. Parkes' field glass, and reported to him what was going on. The rebels saw us and fired at us with cannon, regardless of consequences to the in- THE SMOKED TANK. 41 sane. Then I climbed a tall tree from which I could see the movements of the enemy. They were evacu- ating the city all day, and I never could understand why, when one half had crossed the river, the other was not gobbled up. The day after Jackson was taken, our regiment went on a raid to Canton. Some rebels came out to meet us. They formed in line in the edge of some woods, and we formed in a field just out of reach of them, and there we waited until they moved away. Why we didn't have a fight there, I never could see. We camped that night at a little place called Vernon. In an abandoned house I found a trunk ad- dressed to Captain of a rebel regiment; broke it open, and among other things that were evidently in- tended for a soldier in camp, there was a pair of fine woolen blankets and a little bag of silver. These I took. I presented the blankets to our colonel, Stevens, and kept the silver, four or five dollars. A few days after that. Uncle Tommy, as the boys called the colonel, got on his ear because so many of us left the ranks to forage. Had he kept us where there was fighting to do, he would have had no trouble, but fighting was n't in his line, and we all knew it. I had been scouting on my own hook one day, and, on coming to camp, found a camp-guard out. Not expecting any- thing of the kind, I was captured and taken before Col- onel Stevens. He was in a great rage. Had my forage, of which I had a load, taken from me, and ordered me to get off my horse and be searched. I told him I had not taken anything but forage, and was not in the habit 42 THE SMOKED TANK. of taking anything else. Adjutant Scott asked to see what I had in my pockets. As the colonel, who was a rank Englishman, saw the silver, he fairly frothed at the mouth. "Where di 'e get that?" " In a house at Vernon," I replied. " Been a burnin' 'ouses 'ave 'e, been a robbin' of people and burnin' 'ouses, 'ave 'e? I'll teach 'e to break borders and burn 'ouses, so I will. Hadjutant, send this man to his company under harrest." I tried to explain but he ordered me off. Lieu- tenant Riley saw Adjutant Scott next morning, and together they pacified the colonel. Nothing further would have been said or done had I been content to let the matter rest. The colonel called me hard names, had taken money from me that he had no better right to than I had, and, as I did not have much respect for him anyway, the more I thought of it the more I thought I had been mis-used. Examining the army regulations, I found that valu- ables taken from the enemy should be turned over to the hospital department. From Adjutant Scott I learned that the colonel had kept my silver and made no report of it. After talking the matter over with Captain Woods, who was then acting as major, I con- cluded to ask the colonel for the silver. So one day when we had halted for a noon-day rest, I walked up to the colonel, who was lying in the shade surrounded by other officers, and asked him to return the silver that he had taken from me. He reached for his sabre, jumped up and made for me as though he meant to run me through THE SMOKED YANK. 43 on the spot. Captain Woods and the other officers stopped him and reminded him that he had no right to use his sabre on a soldier for asking a question. A few weeks after this, we were in camp near Vicks- burg and orders came from Washington to grant fur- loughs for meritorious conduct to two soldiers in each company. My conduct had not been in all respects meritorious, but I had, on several occasions, volunteered for hazardous service, and had never been known to shirk when there was dangerous work to do. I was one of the two recommended by the officers of my company for furlough. Had never had or asked for a furlough, and now to get one for meritorious conduct, and visit my home in the North during the hot, sickly weather when the army would be idle, nothing could have pleased me more. Imagine my feelings when the recommendation came back disapproved by Colonel Stevens. I went with Captain Wood to see him. We had a stormy in- terview. The colonel said I deserved a court-martial rather than a furlough. The captain then demanded a court-martial. I was subsequently tried before a court-martial on charges preferred by Colonel Stevens. The trial was in the colonel's tent. I did not hear the evidence sub- mitted against me, but I was called in and asked to ex- plain how and where I obtained the silver, and why I asked the colonel to return it to me. I sat on a cot in the colonel's tent, and turning up the blankets, noticed the very same white blankets that I took from the trunk 44 THE SMOKED YANK. in which I found the silver. When I had told where I got the silver, I said: ''Gentlemen, I took a pair of white wool blankets from the same trunk and presented them to Colonel Stevens. He thanked me with great kindness and made no inquiries as to where I got them. I think these are the same blankets." I uncovered a pair of white blankets on the cot. The officers of the court smiled; the colonel got red in the face and tried to explain, but about all that he could say was that he did not know that I was the boy that gave him the blankets. As I never heard anything more from the court-martial, I suppose that the charges were not sustained. I liked my companions in the company and never had any trouble with my company officers, but, knowing that the colonel was watching for a chance to get me into trouble, and fearing that he might, I obtained through Captain Woods an order from the division commander, placing me on detached service, and assign- ing me for duty at the division headquarters in Vicks- burg. There I was an orderly for two or three months and was then made chief of orderlies. The duties of an orderly in an army that is in actual service are about the same as those of a page in Congress. The orderlies usually know everything and see everything that is going on. If they please the officers under whom they work they are well treated, if they do not, they are sent to their regiment. My duties at the division headquarters, especially THE SMOKED YANK. 45 after I was promoted to chief of orderlies, were light and pleasant. I would in all probability have remained on detached service until the term for which I enlisted expired, had I not met with the misfortune hereafter related. CHAPTER VI. I GET LEAVE OF ABSENCE AND HAVE SOME FUN WITH THE BOYS — HELPING PLANTERS TO MARKET COTTON — "an atheist's laugh a poor EXCHANGE FOR DEITY offended" — CAPTURED BY GUERILLAS. In February, 1864, my regiment was in camp at Redbone Church, twelve miles south of Vicksburg, Major Harry Eastman, in command. The weather was delightful, the regiment in good health and fine spirits. Dashing Harry, as the major was sometimes called, and nearly all of his officers and men, were reported to be coining money in the cotton business. Every man that I saw in the regiment reported "jolly good times in camp." There was not much to do at division headquarters. General McArthur and most of the men in the division were out on the Meridian campaign. I obtained from the adjutant-general a leave of absence for ten days, and went out to camp to have some fun with the boys. The cotton camp was on the Black River, several miles from the main camp at Redbone. From this camp a raiding party was sent out nearly every day, avowedly for the purpose of hunting Whittaker's scouts, a band of guerillas that infested the region, but really for the purpose of protecting teams that followed afterto bring in cotton. The first morning after I arrived at the cotton camp a raiding party one hundred strong started out under Dashing Harry himself. J '• THE SMOKED YANK. 47 went along and, being a visitor and not obliged to stay in the ranks, I soon discovered the object of the raid. At every plantation the major would have a private interview with the planter and then march on. As soon as the command was fairly out of sight that planter would have all the hands on the place hitching up teams and loading on cotton. We started at an early hour; about noon we reached Port Gibson, and went in on a charge, scaring the people out of their wits and causing the few daring rebels that were there to see the girls they had left behind them to leave with short allowance. Here I enlisted four of the boys, whom I considered of good grit, into a scheme to gobble a team and load of cotton. Our plan was to slip out when the command was about ready to start, remain in town until the rest were out of sight, then secure a team, load it with cotton, and follow the com- mand into camp. All went well until the troops began ' disappear over the hill, then five of us seemed a .nail number to hold the town, and before the rear guard had disappeared over the hill three of my boys deserted, leaving two of us in Port Gibson. Night was coming on by the time we were fairly out of town with our four mule team and negro driver. At one of the plantations where I had seen the major interview the planter we halted, and ordered him to load that team with cotton as soon as possible. He asked who I wanted the cotton for. I told him for Major Eastman. He had that team loaded in less than a jiffy. We left the plantation at dark; I rode ahead of the team and my companion brought up the rear. Our road lay 48 THE SMOKED YANK. over a hilly country, part of the way through timber. It was twenty-five miles to camp; the darkness intense. Reader, try such a ride on such a night in a guerilla region, and if you don't wish for the end of your journey before you find it, your experience will not be what mine was. At daybreak we unloaded four bales among other bales of cotton on the bank of the Black River, reported the fact to an officer, and in a few days after- wards Charley Campbell and I received $90 each for our share of that night's work. I afterward saw the planter in Major Eastman's tent, but how they settled for the four bales of cotton I never inquired. Such incidents were the every-day occurrences of the cotton camp. A few days after this Lieutenant D. L. Riley, with a detachment of men, was sent further up the river to guard a ford, and also to keep the guerillas in that vicinity from molesting the planters as they hauled their cotton to market at Vicksburg. After establishing his camp at the ford, the lieuten- ant rode into Redbone. He told me that he had learned from a negro that there was a large quantity of C. S. A. cotton (cotton purchased by the confederate govern- ment and branded C.S.A.) concealed in a swamp six or seven miles above his camp at the ford. I returned with Riley and found Lieutenant Showalter and the men very much excited. During the night a large band of guerillas had charged up to the opposite bank of the river and fired on them— but as all the boys were sleeping behind bales of cotton, none were hurt. That day we scouted in all directions but could hear THE SMOKED YANK. 49 nothing of the guerillas, though we saw a number of men that looked as though they might do good service. As each one had a surgeon's certificate exempting him from conscription, and also professed loyalty to the Union, we passed them by. There was one, however, a fine looking man of thirty or thereabouts, that par- ticularly excited the lieutenant's suspicion. He not only showed a surgeon's certificate, but also a pass and a letter from the post commander at Vicksburg. I think his name was Warner. The next morning in company with Sergeant E. Wiseman, Lynn B. Cook, H. C. Carr, James Shanley, George Cornish, Patrick Woods, and James Johnson, I crossed the river, intending to make a circuit through the country, and come to the river at the swamp above where the C.S. A. cotton was reported to be. It was our intention to make a raft of the cotton and float it down the river to camp. We started before daybreak; I was riding ahead and out of sight of the rest of the party, when I came in sight of the plantation, owned by the fine-looking, suspicious gentleman before mentioned, just in time to see him dismount at his gate and lead his horse toward the house. I put spurs to the mule that I was riding, and when I reached the house the man had unsaddled the horse, a fine looking animal, and was holding him by the bridle. I rode up, revolver in hand, and asked him where he had been so early in the morn- ing. He replied that a lady in the house had been taken sick in the night and he had been to see a physi- cian. I told him that I had been compelled to ride a mule because my horse was sick, and that I would be so THE SMOKED TANK. obliged to take his horse; but that if he would come to camp that night, he might have his horse back if the lieutenant was willing. He made some remonstrances and spoke of a letter of protection from some Union officer. I dismounted with the intention of putting my saddle on the horse, but just then a lady stepped on the porch, and the man gave her the bridle saying: " If you take this horse, you must take it from the owner." She said: "You Yankees have taken everything I had in the world except this horse, and if you get this you will have to take it from me by force !" I supposed the lad}'^ to be the wife of the man. Both had an air of gentility and used the language of culture. My ideas of chivalry did not admit of my taking a horse^ from a lady by force, and so I vented my spleen on the man in threats and insulting language, mounted my mule and rode away. We arrived at Hankinson's ferry, just below the cotton, about nine o'clock. Four of the party went to see if the cotton was all right and four of us remained at the house to have breakfast prepared for all. The inmates of the house were the ferryman, his wife, and an old negress. The house, itself, was one of the double log houses common in the South, the two parts of the house being separated, the space between, called the " passage," having floor and roof but no side walls. The house fronted the river; the road, leading from it, ran up the river. The old auntie prepared the breakfast and called us in. We sat down to the table. One of our number THE SMOKED TANK. 51 was a handsome young man, then about 23 years of age. At his country home he had been the pet and pride of the family; a leader among the young folks of his neighborhood. He was active, witty, and clever In our company he had been, from the first, a kind of clown or fun-maker. Sometimes he would play drunk, get arrested, and carried struggling and kicking before some officer, where, to the chagrin of his captors, he would stand up sober as a judge. His favorite role was that of a camp-meeting preacher. His parents were Methodists, and his store of the words and phrases peculiar to camp-meeting and revival sermons was indeed wonderful. Mounted on a box, barrel, or stump, he would go through an entire camp-meeting service — song, sermon, prayer and all — and so perfectly could he act his part that strangers were often astonish- ed to learn that he was merely in jest. On this occasion we were no sooner seated around the table than this young man, assuming perfect gravity of manner, bowed his head and pretended to invoke the Divine blessing. The old auntie opened wide her eyes with astonishment, and, at the conclusion " Thank God," she said, "de Yankees am not all sinnas." Poor boy! How little he thought he was never again to take a seat at a well-spread table, and that the memory of that blessing, asked in mockery, would haunt him to his grave. It did haunt him to his dying hour and he died of hunger. Often afterward, half- naked, cold and sick and nearly famished for food, as he took his poor ration of bread, the memory of that thoughtless mimicry would come over him and the 52 THE SMOKED TANK. tears of bitter remorse would chase each other down his bony cheeks. Boys, if you are ever tempted to scoff at sacred things let this poor boy's fate be a warn- ing. His thoughtless act was not the cause of his early death, but, done as it was, an instant before an un- expected crisis, it made a deep and lasting impression, and none can say what his future might have been but for the influence of that guilty feeling on his mind. No man knows what an hour, even a moment, may bring forth. Remember this from Burns: The great Creator to revere, Must sure become the creature; But still the preaching cant forbear. And ev'n the rigid feature ; Yet ne'er with wits profane to range Be complaisance extended ; An atheist's laugh's a poor exchange Foir Deity offended. — When ranting round in pleasure's ring Religion may be blinded; Or if she gie a random sting, It may be little minded; But when in life we're tempest driv'n, A conscience but a canker, — A correspondence fixed with Heaven Is sure a noble anchor. We had just commenced to eat, when some dogs began barking around the house. Sergeant Wiseman went out and came in directly, saying there was a man on the other side of the river calling for the ferry, and that he would stay out and stand guard until the rest of us had finished our breakfast. I was just rising from the table, when there burst upon our ears the unearthly hip, hip, hip, of the rebel yell. I leaped into the passage to grab a gun, and whiz, whiz, whiz, the bullets flew all around me. I thought of the corn-field, and looked that way; a line of rebels was within a hundred yards, TtlB SMOk^D TANK. 53 Turning toward the gate, the muzzles of a half dozen cocked guns were leveled at me. Instantly and almost instinctively my hands went up in token of surrender, and I hastened toward the men in front, to escape being shot by those behind. As before stated, I had been acting as chief of or- derlies at division headquarters, and was, therefore, in better dress than private soldiers usually wear. My only weapon was an elegant silver mounted self-cocking re- volver, fastened around me by a morocco belt, such as officers usually wore. I had, being so ordered in no gentle words, unbuckled this belt and was handing it with revolver attached, up to the man nearest me who sat on his horse, when I saw coming toward me, his face pale with rage and shot-gun in hand, the man, Warner, riding the very same horse that his sister had kept me from taking a few hours before. It was well that I saw him and that my presence of mind did not forsake me. I knew from the expression on his face and his actions as well, that he was ready to shoot me, but could not, where I stood, without danger to the man to whom I was handing the belt. As the man took the belt and revolver, I saw that he was pleased with it. Such weapons were highly prized by the rebels, and I quickly handed up my watch and pocketbook, and said as I did so: " Am I your prisoner? " "Well, I reckon! How big are them boots?" he said. "You can have the boots, but don't let that man shoot me," I quickly responded. 54 THE SMOKED YANK. Looking at Warner Boatwright, for that was my captor's name, said: " What in hell are you pointing your gun at this Yank, for? He is my prisoner." " I do n't care a damn whose prisoner he is, I am going to shoot him," said Warner. It seemed that these men were not personally asquainted, for Boatwright's reply was something like this: " I reckon you do n't know me, by G — d, I'm Boat- wright, the independent scout, that's who I am; and when any man shoots my prisoner, he had bettei* shoot me first." More words followed back and forth, until finally Boatwright moved his horse away from me, and with cocked revolver in hand, said to Warner: " You are going to kill that unarmed boy, are you? Now you just blaze away!" Warner knew what that flashing eye and defiant manner meant, and, completely cowed, he turned his horse and rode away. Is it any wonder that I remember almost every act and word of those two men during those few brief moments, or any wonder that I remem- ber nothing else of what was going on around? I had watched and listened to that quarrel fully realizing that my life was wavering in the balance. Warner, because, perhaps, he was not cool enough in such an emergency to invent a story better suited to his purpose, had re- lated our morning encounter about as it was. I admitted what he said, and claimed that he had not sufficient provocation to justify his shooting me; and so Boat- > w Hi o c; •-d O Q Hi O w l-H C/J Hi ;> ?=i ^ o C ?3 THE SMOKED YANK. 55 Wright thought. Warner's real reason for wanting to put me out of the way, was, no doubt, because he knew I had seen his surgeon's certificate, and his permit to go and come through the Union lines, and now here he was in arms with rebels, and therefore liable to be shot as a spy should he be caught and tried. But these things came up and were talked over later in the day. No more was said up to the time Warner rode away, than I before stated, and not until he had gone, did I feel the terrible strain. Then I weakened, my knees knocked together as though an ague chill was on me, and I had to sit down to keep from falling. Meantime, while these things that I remember so well were transpiring, the rest of the boys were being captured, and the plunder, consisting of horses, guns, revolvers, watches, money, and whatever they had worth taking, was being divided between twenty-five or thirt}^ guerillas, In whose hands we now were. Except- ing Boatwright, and one or two others who claimed to be independent scouts, they belonged to Whittaker's scouts. But all this time, where is Sergeant Wiseman, \vho went out to stand guard? Some of the guerillas said they had fired at a man crawling up the bank on the other side of the river. Those of us who were taken, supposed that he saw the guerillas approaching, and without giving us any alarm, sought his own safety in flight. I have never heard his account of the affair and can, therefore, only hope that we were wrong. CHAPTER VII. SAMPLES OF CHIVALRY — JOKING WITH A JOHNNY — HELPING TO FILL UP THE SETS — A WEARISOME MARCH WITH- OUT FOOD EXCEPT -FOR REFLECTION — TOO ANGRY TO EAT. Just after Warner rode away, and while the re- mainder of our captors were arranging to follow, we were all startled by the report of a gun from the other side of the river and the whistlmg of a bullet directly over our heads. Looking in the direction from which the sound came, we saw James Trelore, one of our com- pany, taking his carbine from his shoulder, as he did so, he wheeled his horse and galloped away. Several shots were fired at him by our guardians, none of which took effect. It seems that he had been sent up to see how we were getting along, and that he had arrived on the other side of the river just in time to see us in the hands of our new friends. Trelore was a good shot and I have always supposed that he did not aim closely at any of the rebels for fear of hitting us, but merely fired over their heads with a view of frightening them away. They did not frighten, and he came near paying dearly for his audacity. Out of the twenty-five or thirty guerillas that sur- rounded us in the first place, only five or six remained after our capture was made, the rest galloped away on the trail of the other four of our party. They came THE SMOKED TANK. 57 Upon them in the woods antl a sharp skirmish ensued, resulting in the wounding of Carr in the thigh by a buckshot and the kilHng of one of the guerilla horses. The guerillas, after exchanging a few shots at long range, and finding that there were only four, charged on them with the usual rebel yell. Carr, too brave for his own good, took deliberate aim at short range and would have killed his man had not the horse's head, suddenly raised, received the bullet. Before he could re-charge his carbine, a dozen men were around him. Bringing their prisoners together, the guerillas rode away with us rapidly until about the middle of the afternoon, when we came to the rendezvous, where we found Captain Whittaker and the rest of his band. Here Warner demanded of the captain that I be delivered over to him as his prisoner to be dealt with as he might see fit, at the same time stating his reasons for the demand. Boatwright spoke up boldly and charged that Warner had been afraid to show his colors in the morning when I had met him single-handed, and that he now wanted to take me off and murder me after I had been made a prisoner by others. He intimated very strongly, too, that he had promised me his protec- tion, and that it would n't be safe for Warner or any one else to harm a hair of my head. The quarrel between the two men again waxed warm, and it transpired that Warner's real reason for wanting to put me out of the way was not so much what I had said and done that morning as the fact that I had seen his pass from a Union officer, and could, should I escape, or in any other way get back into the Union 58 THE SMOKED TANK. army, and cause his capture, furnish evidence to convict him as a spy. Whittaker listened awhile and then decided in this way: " Young man," he said to me, " I do n't think you have done anything very much out of the way, but un- less you will take an oath that you will never, under any circumstances, seek revenge on Warner, or try to do him harm, I shall turn you over to him to do with as he sees fit." I saw no other way out, but I think I made some mental reservations as I held up my hand and took that oath. If my memory serves me right, all of my fellow- prisoners were required to take the same oath. Even then, Warner was not satisfied. He asked to be one of the number detailed to guard us. To this, Boatwright vigorously objected, and volunteered to be one of our guards himself, for the purpose, as he plainly stated, of seeing that Warner did not play the sneak and get a shot at an unarmed foe. Boatwright was certainly a generous and brave man. He told us some wonderful stories of his exploits as a scout and guerilla, some of which if true, were not to his credit; but his whole conduct while with us, indi- cated, that though rough in appearance and coarse in . language, he-had anything but a mean spirit. If I remember correctly, there were seven guards in all, under command of Boatwright; who started with us for the headquarters of the rebel general in command of that district. The first night we camped where there were two log cabins. We were put into one, the guards took the other. Two at a time stood guard at our door. THE SMOKED TANK. 59 Carr and I arranged a plan for our escape. We proposed that when all the guards but the two were asleep, we would suddenly spring on these two, get their guns and capture the rest before they could be aroused, and then by traveling in the night only, and through the woods, go with the prisoners to our own lines. It was a feasible plan, and at first all agreed to it. But as the time for action approached, two or three of the boys became faint-hearted and declared it should not be done. So they shut the door and laid down in front of it, threatening that they would cry out and alarm the guard, should any of us attempt to open the door. Thus securely guarded both by friends and foes, I spent my first night as a prisoner. The boys that re- fused to join in the break for liberty were probably right. They said they were afraid it could not be done without killing some of the guards, and that whether any of them were hurt or not, we could not take so large a party back to our lines without discovery and re-cap- ture, and that if we tried and failed, we would all be shot. The second night we came to the camp of a rebel brigade — these were regular rebel soldiers — they treated us well. Gave us a tent to sleep in, plenty to eat, and two of us, Cook and myself, and two of the Johnnies, as we called them, engaged in a friendly game of draw- poker during the greater part of the night. Neither Cook nor myself had any money, but some of the Johnnies, just to see the fun of the game between two Yanks and two Johnnies, furnished us with funds. We came out ahead, and our backers generously divided with us our winnings. 6o THE SMOKED TANK. Here we were placed under charge of new guards, the old ones, except Boatwright, going back. We traveled to MorrisvIUe that day and there waited for a train. By this time, the wound received by Carr had become inflamed and made him sick. Boatwright took im to a physician who examined the wound and said the bullet must be extracted, but before he would do it, he wanted to know where he was to get his pay. Carr told him that he was a prisoner and had no money. Still the physician refused to perform the operation without pay. I mention this as an example of the boasted southern chivalry. Finally, Cook and myself produced the money won in the poker game, and gave it to the man, who then performed the operation and dressed the wound quite skilfully. We witnessed another illustration of southern chiv- alry at the same town. We were guarded in a negro quarter or hut. Our supper was brought in by a good- looking mulatto girl. The owner of the place, the girl's master, came in while we were eating, and seemed desirous of arguing with us the questions that divided the North and South. "You uns," said he, "think a nigger just as good as a white man, don't you?" "Yes, in some respects," we said. " Now, I suppose you would just as soon marry a nigger wench as to marry a white woman, would n't you?" Thinking the old gentleman would take a joke, I said to him: " I would n't like to marry any nigger wench that I THE SMOKED TANK. 6i have seen around here, for fear that I would have some of you rebels for a daddy-in-law." As I spoke I looked from him to the mulatto girl, standing near. Whoopee! How the old man did rave! He stormed and swore and finally started for the house saying, he would n't stand such an insult from no damned Yankee. He meant business, too, for he soon came back with a shot gun, which he would doubtless have fired into us, had not Boatwright stood in the door, and, partly by the influence of his drawn revolver and partly by persuasion, appeased the old man's wrath. I was always careful after that about joking with Johnnies. From this place, we were taken on the cars to Brookhaven, Boatwright still in command of the party. While on the cars, a tall, awkward, loud-mouthed, and vile-tongued man in dirty uniform, commenced to talk and banter with some of our boys. Not getting the best of a wordy engagement, he soon had his six- shooter out and valorously flourishing it in the faces of unarmed prisoners, swore he could whip any five Yanks on earth, and dared any man there to deny it. He had a bottle of liquor with him which he began to drink, and the more he drank the braver he became until he began to talk about killing one Yank, just to celebrate the day. He carried this so far as to order us to draw lots for the honor of being his target. His order not being obeyed, he cocked his weapon and flourished it so recklessly that Boatwright, who until then had scarcely noticed him, leveled a cocked revolver at him and ordered him to lay down his gun. For a moment 62 THE SMOKED YANK. he looked at the cold, gray eyes behind the cocked re- volver, and then began with: " How are ye, pard?" to try and make friends with Boatwright. " I am no pard of a man that insults prisoners," said Boatwright, and he took the pistol from the cow- ardly ruffian, uncapped it, threw his bottle of liquor out of the window, and ordered him to take a seat and hold his tongue, which the tall son of chivalry, com- pletely cowed, seemed glad to do. At Brookhaven, very much to our regret, Boat- wright left us. He seemed to have the right to go where he pleased as an independent scout, as he called himself. I know of no reason for his staying with us as long as he did, except to prevent Warner from follow- ing us and seeking an opportunity to wreak his ven- geance on myself. In fact, he often spoke of his fears on that point, and after the first night until he left us, always insisted upon my sleeping with him. One night while we were at Morrisville, he took Lynn Cook and myself to a tavern, and we all occupied the same room. Before going to bed, he asked us to pledge our word of honor to make no attempt to escape, and then un- dressed and went to bed with us. He told us he would be very glad to have us get away and safely back to our friends, but he did n't want us to escape while he was in charge of us, for that would cause him trouble. Just before he left us I had a long talk with him, and he advised me to get away. He gave me all the points he could about the best course to pursue in case I should escape. We saw him go with great reluctance. Although he told of many exploits in killing Union THE SMOKED TANK. 63 men and negroes, many of which, if true, were ex- tremely cruel and not to his credit, his whole treatment of our party was a splendid e^xample of real chivalry. I have never seen or heard of him since, but whether he got killed in some dare-devil venture or, as such men were likely to do, became a member of some gang of desperadoes after the war, such as the James Brothers' gang, I warrant that for personal coolness and nerve he seldom, if ever, met his superior; and, whatever his lot, if he still lives, I would be glad and proud to shake the hand of Boatwright and thank him again for his kind and manly treatment. ■ At Brookhaven, Cook, Carr, and myself laid many plans for escape. Our schemes for getting away by stealth were all in one way or another frustrated. Some of them, we thought, by the treachery of our com- panions. We had joined a larger party of prisoners, and there were now twenty-five or thirty of us in all. If we could have united the whole party in an attempt, we could easily have set ourselves at liberty by force. But the majority were afraid to try it, claiming that the whole village and country around would be in arms and that we would be tracked by blood-hounds and either killed or re-captured. We were well treated. In fact a few of us, especially Lynn Cook and Wm. Cook, who could play on the fiddle, and myself and one or two other men, had some regular jollifications. Some of our guards, who were strangers in the town, formed the acquaintance of the young folks and got up dancing parties. The ladies being largely in the majority, because the young men 64 THE SMOKED TANK. were all away in the army, some of us Yanks were in- vited to the parties as the rebel girls said, just to fill up the sets. We fancied that they found our company quite as agreeable as that of any of the Johnnies. At one of these dancing parties to which Lynn Cook and myself were invited and taken under guard, we made an unsuccessful attempt to escape. It was a warm evening and the windows in the room were up. We arranged a cotillion in which our two guards and ourselves were the gentlemen. We confided our scheme to two of the ladies with whom we had become familiar and to whom we were pretending to make love and they agreed to assist. After the cotillion ended, we called for a waltz, and while our two guards were waltz- ing and only one guard with a gun left at the front door, our partners were to continue the waltz together and let Lynn and myself slip out of the window. The room was but dimly lighted with one or two tallow candles. Cook went first, had cleared the window, and I was half out, when both our partners screamed: " They are getting away. The Yanks are getting away." The guards seized their guns, ran out at the front door, and, as it was a bright moonlight night, we thought the chances were against us and made as great speed in getting back into the room as we had tried to make in getting out. Whether our lady friends meant to play us a trick or whether they saw we were noticed by others and screamed to keep themselves from being implicated, we never found out, for we were taken at once to our prison house without being permitted, as formerly, to go home THE SMOKED YANK. 65 with our girls with guards behind us. We were not in- vited to any more dances. A few days after we were taken on the cars back to Morrisville, and from there on foot through Jack- son, (which place we helped to capture but a few months before,) to Canton, another town that we had before been in sight of but had not entered, there being, in the opinion of our commander, too many rebels there at the time. As we were all cavalry men and not used to walking, this journey in warm weather, over a sandy road, was hard on our feet. I nearly gave out the first day, and I well remember how glad I was when the rebel guards said that we would camp at a plantation we were approaching. On nearing the place I recognized the house as one that I had been in on my return trip from Canton, be- fore mentioned. On that occasion, I rode up to this house and found it full of Union soldiers, who were literally stripping it. They were even taking jewelry from the hands of the women. It was customary on such excursions for the officer in command to place guards at such houses to protect them from pillage and the women from insult. Seeing no guard at this house and cowardly work going on, I drew my sword, declared that I was a detailed guard, drove the plunderers away, and staid there until the rear guard came along. The ladies were at the time loud in their praise and profuse in their thanks. Now, as I neared the same house, tired, limping on blistered feet, and hungry, I thought to myself and probably said to my companions, "we will be well- 66 THE SMOKED YANK. treated here, because these people owe me a good turn." The place belonged to Doctor Lee. He came out as we reached the house and the sergeant in charge told him that he desired to camp for the night, and asked whether he could have shelter and food for his men and prisoners. The doctor was all excitement in a moment. " Food for those damned Yankee thieves.''" said he. " I'd feed a hungry dog, but not a damned crumb will I give to a thieving Yankee. If I could see them burning in hell, not a damned drop would I give them to drink. I'll give them shelter, damn them, yes, take them to the nigger quarters. They say a nigger is as good as a white man. I say a nigger is a damn sight better than a white Yankee, and the nigger quarter is too good for them." This, and much more, he rattled off. Who could blame him? The negro quarters were, as he said, empty, because the Yankees had stolen the negroes away. And what must be the feelings of any husband and father to return to his home and find that armed men had been there and stripped the premises of every living and eatable thing, insulted his wife and daughters, wantonly destroyed what they could not use, and even robbed women of their finger rings. Such had been this man's experience. Who could blame him for his wrath? Still, I did not then think of it in that light. I in- duced one of the guards to go and tell him that I was the man that had driven the other Yankees out of his THE SMOk'ED VAjVA'. 67 house, and stood guard over the ladies to protect them from further wrong. I felt confident that when he heard this he would invite me at least into his house, and treat me with hospitality. But not so. He sent back an insulting message, and the sergeant said that he refused to allow any of the prisoners to have a mouthful of food while on his place. It was now my turn to get angry, at least, angry I got, and painfully angry, too. In all my life I don't think I have ever at any other time been so completely soaked and choaked with passion as I was at that place. The more I thought of the miserable return I was receiving for the generous action I had performed the more my blood seemed to boil. My feet were painfully blistered. The sergeant had an old negro bring me some water in a tub in which to bathe them. To this old negro I told how I had been there before, and what I had done, and he went away saying he would try and get me something to eat. After an hour or so he came back with a large pan of corn bread and some meat. By this time my indigna- tion had mastered my hunger, and I gave the food to my companions, telling them that if they wanted to eat on that man's place they could, but as for me I wanted no food that he could call his. I lay awake nearly, if not quite, all night, studying how to best take revenge on this Doctor Lee, as soon as I could get free. It turned out that my blood had plenty of time to cool before I got free. CHAPTER VIII. "to the victors belong the spoils"— I LOSE MY SUS- PENDERS — A JOLLY REBEL RASCAL — A CAPTAIN OF THE HORSE MARINES. On our arrival at Canton we were drawn up in line before the tent of Colonel Lee. We were told that he was related to Gen. R. E. Lee Here we were searched and our names taken on the roll, and we were then sent to the prison room, which was in the second story of a large brick building. Here we found about 150 other prisoners; the room, as I remember it, was about 25x80 feet, There was in it a common box heating stove with one lid on top On this stove the cooking for the whole party was done. The rations were corn meal and bacon. There being now nearly, if not quite, 200 men in the room you can imagine that that stove had something to do. We were divided into messes and each mess took its turn at the stove. We got along very well with the cooking. As for the sleeping, those that had blankets made a bed of them on the floor. As there were no blankets in our party, we made our bed on the floor without blankets. When we entered this room, the prisoners already there told us to conceal carefully any money or any- thing else we had that we didn't want stolen, and to cut holes in our clothes. We had only been there a few hours when we found out why we were so advised. THE SMOKED TANK. 69 The guards on duty in and around the building were reUeved every day at noon. The sergeant and squad of men that came to reheve the guards on duty re- quired all of the prisoners to stand up in rows to be counted. The sergeant counted and the soldiers searched each man in turn. Not only our party that had just arrived but every man in the room, and strange to say, although this searching process had been gone through with by every new guard that had come on duty since the 'first prisoners were kept there, hardly a day passed but some rebel succeeded in finding something that had been successfully concealed through all previous searches. I remember of a breastpin being found con- cealed in the hem of a man's woolen shirt after he had been searched daily for weeks. And every day some such new find was made, and, of course, kept by the finder as spoils of war. The old democratic maxim, " To the victor belongs the spoils," was never more thoroughly practiced than by those same democrats who had charge of that rebel prison. The search of the new comers was always more thorough than the rest. Our party, being warned, did not furnish much in the way of spoils, though every man who had failed to slit his clothes lost them. Some- times the reb. would exchange what he had on for what the Yank had and sometimes he would take it without exchange. The only thing that I had left which seemed to excite the cupidity of the cowardly set was a pair of suspenders. These, one of the Johnnies ordered me to ijo THE SMOKED YAMK. take off. I refused. We had some words and he stepped back and cocked his gun. A dozen men spoke up urging me to give up the suspenders, saying they were not worth the risk of being shot. I gave them up, though my own opinion was that the man would not have shot had I braved it out. Many ingenious plans were contrived to conceal valuables. Some took apart the brass buttons on their coats and neatly put them together again with green- backs inside. Others took the heels off from boots or shoes and hollowed them out so as to hide in them money, jewelry, etc., but the button and heel racket, as the boys would say these days, the rebels caught on to, and one day every brass button was taken from the room and every heel examined. Thomas Davidson of our party had $qo in green backs and kept it through all searches. He kept it between some dirty pieces of brown paper and when- ever the Johnnies began to search, he laid his dirty brown paper on the floor among other litter and let the robbers tread on it. We had not been in this room many days when a rebel put in an appearance who was to us the type of a new species. He was a young fellow, not over twenty, tall, slim, black hair, black eyes, smooth face, and very Jiandsome. " Handsome is that handsome does," had no application to him. He was a handsome rascal, but there was a reckless abandon, a good humored deviltry about his rascality, that compelled a kind of ad- miration. When he first entered the room he announced that THE SMOKED YANK. 71 he was a prisoner, too, and had come to form the acqaintance of his fellow prisoners. He was dressed in a neatly-fitting suit of home-spun butternut. Long-tailed frock coat, closely fitting pants, broad brimmed hat, and high heeled calf boots. His small hands and long tapered fingers and small feet betokened a long line of genteelly worthless, if not gen- teel, ancestry. He wore a belt and two six-shooters of the best pattern, and had spurs on his boots. He was under arrest and awaiting trial, as he told us, for some scrape he had been in where a few negroes had been killed. On his second visit he complained that he had n't had a gallop for so long that he feared that he would forget how to ride, and wanted to know if some Yank did n't want to plaf horse. Whether or not anyone volunteered I cannot now remember, but he was soon riding Yanks whether they wanted him to or not. He climbed on their backs and would make them gallop, as he called it, up and down the room, using his spurs the same as he would on a horse. The guards seemed to be afraid of him and the prisoners were either afraid or deemed it more prudent to submit to his devilment than to have a row. Carr, however, declared that if he was ever called on to play horse he would pitch the rider through the window. Some one told the rebel what Carr had said, and so he proposed to ride Carr. " All right," said Carr, "you are welcome to ride me if you can, but do n't blame me if you get hurt. I am an ornery sort of a cuss, anyway, and I do n't know 72 THE SMOKED TANK. what kind of an animal I would make if I were turned into a horse." Those of us who knew Carr best dreaded the re- sult. We felt that this rebel must be a favorite with the officers in charge, or they would not permit his wild capers that had become notorious, and although we believed Carr could take care of himself notwith- standing the revolvers the rebel wore, we could not tell what the rebel officers might do if the man should be hurt. We tried to get the rebel to play some other game. He would not. He wanted to break in a new horse. Carr walked to one end of the room. The rebel got on, and Carr sure enough started as fast as he could go for the window at the other end of the room, but the rebel, having been warned, got off before the win- dow was reached. He began to bluster, but had hardly time to utter a word before Carr was standing close in front of him. For a moment those two black-eyed men glared at each other. Carr spoke no word, but some- thing that the rebel saw in his flashing eyes and pallid face caused him to turn on his heel and propose some other game. One day some new prisoners, " fresh fish," were brought in. They were from the Marine Brigade — Germans — at least the two officers, a captain and a lieu- tenant, were Germans. The captain had on a fine pair of high-topped, patent leather cavalry boots. He also had a fine meerschaum pipe, a handsomely trimmed, well-filled bag of the best tobacco, and some money. Our rebel tormentor began at once to make love to THE CAPTAIN OF THE "SEAHORSE CAVALRY" LOSES HIS BOOTS. THE SMOKED TANK. 73 this Dutch Captain. He smoked and praised his pipe, admired his boots and told the captain that he would stand by him and see that these things were not taken by the rebel guard. And stand by him he did, for when the new guard came in and the " fresh fish " stood up with the rest of us to be counted and robbed, this rebel rascal led the captain to one side and the guards did not offer to disobey his commands that they should let this prisoner alone. That night we were all awakened by loud swearing in Dutch brogue and a big racket generally: " Help! Help! Mein Gott! Mein Gott! Mein Gott in Himmel!! Help everybodies! Help! Help!" and other such ex- clamations were coming from the Dutch captain, who was being dragged around the room by his rebel pro- tector. The rebel had secured the pipe, tobacco and money, and was engaged in removing the boots, which the captain had for safety not taken off when he went to bed. Our sympathies were, of course, with the cap- tain, but the scene as a sequel to the solicitous friend- ship of the previous day, and the mixture of Dutch and Dutch brogue, that poured from the mouth of the captain, was so comical that we could not restrain our laughter. The captain always said afterwards that " Doze Yankee vat makes de big laugh bes a dam site vurse in my esteem dan der Johnnies vot stole mine boots." The next day the rebel brought in a cob pipe for the captain and allowed him to fill it from the orna- mental tobacco pouch. The rebel was smoking the meerschaum pipe, which he said had been presented to 74 THE SMOKED TANK. him by one of the officers of the " Sea Horse Cavalry." These were samples of the capers of that handsome rascal. He was one of a very numerous class well described by Sherman on page ^2;], of Volume I. of his memoirs, where he says: " Fourth. The young bloods of the South, sons of planters, lawyers about towns, good billiard players and sportsmen, men who never did do any work and never will. War suits them and the rascals are brave, fine riders, bold to rashness, and dangerous subjects in every sense. They care not a sou for niggers, land, or any- thing. They hate Yankees per se, and do n't bother their brains about the past, present or future. As long as they have good horses, plenty of forage and an open country, they are happy. This is a larger class than most men suppose, and they are the most dangerous set of men that this war has turned loose upon the world. They are splendid riders, first-rate shots and utterly reckless. ****** They are the best cavalry in the world, but it will tax Mr. Chase's genius for finance to supply them with horses. At present horses cost them nothing, for they take where they find and do n't bother their brains who is to pay for them; the same may be said of the corn fields, which have, as they believe, been cultivated by a good-natured people for their especial benefit. We propose to share with them the free use of the corn fields, planted by willing hands that will never gather the crops." CHAPTER IX. MOVED TO CAHABA, ALABAMA — A LITTLE LEAVEN FOR THE LOAF — I BORROW BOOKS, WRITE NOTES, AND BECOME SENTIMENTAL — A PROMISING ROMANCE NIPPED IN THE BUD. The railroads from Canton, east, having been des- troyed by Sherman on his Meridian campaign, we were marched on foot across the country. For rations, we were given each night a sack of meal and some meat. Our guards seemed to think we needed nothing to cook in. We mixed the meal with water in buckets, and then baked it by our camp-fire, either by filling a husk from an ear of corn, tying the end and covering it in the ashes, or by spreading stiff dough on a board and standing it up before the fire. After several days of such marching we arrived footsore and weary at a railroad station, and from there we were taken on the cars to Selma, Alabama. The country between the Tombigbee and Alabama rivers that we crossed on the way, seemed to me then to be the finest and richest that I had ever seen. From Selma, we were taken to Cahaba, twelve miles below, on the Alabama river. Here we joined a still larger body of Union soldiers who had been taken prisoners. With our party, there were in all five or six hundred. The prison was a large cotton warehouse. The outer wall was of brick and enclosed a large circle. In- side, a circle of posts twenty or thirty feet from the 76 THE SMOKED TANK. wall supported the roof which sloped outward to the wall. The circle inside the posts was uncovered. Under a portion of the roof, bunks had been built, one over another, for the prisoners to sleep on. These were more than full before our arrival and we had to take up our quarters on the ground, there being no floor in the enclosure. We were here two or three weeks, during which time nothing of importance transpired. We thought then that we were most inhumanly treated because we were given no bedding or blankets, and nothing but the ground to sleep on. Otherwise, we had nothing to complain of; our food was wholesome and sufficient. The two officers in charge of the prison, a captain and a lieutenant, whose names I would gladly mention if I could remember them, were gentlemen. We did not know enough then about life in rebel prisons to fully appreciate their kindness. Every day on the ar- rival of the mail, one of them would bring in a late paper, stand up on a box and read the news. In many other ways, such as procuring writing material and for- warding letters for us, they manifested such kindly feeling as one honorable soldier will always manifest toward a brother soldier, enemy though he be, in misfortune. On our arrival at Cahaba, we were taken, a few at a time, into a room, where these officers had each of us thoroughly searched, telling us at the same time to give up everything in the line of knives, jewelry, watches, or money, and that they would keep a list of everything and return all at a proper time^ We thought this a THE SMOKED YANK. 77 ruse to get us to give up what few things we had man- aged to secrete from all previous searches. Let it be said to their honor, that they carried out their promises to the letter, and that when we were taken from Cahaba to Andersonville prison-pen, they came in and re- turned to every Cahaba prisoner the articles taken, as shown by the list. They then expressed their sorrow and shame for the horrors of that awful place. One thing they did which was wrong, if they did it knowingly. The day we were to leave Cahaba, one of them came in to read as usual, and read from a paper a long account of an arrangement having been made for an exchange of prisoners. They led us to believe that we were to be taken at once to the place agreed on for exchange, thus preventing many of us from mak- ing an attempt to escape, as we surely would have done, had we not been deluded by the hope of exchange. I must not, however, leave Cahaba without mention of one example of truly chivalrous conduct. Soon after entering that prison, I noticed that many of the prisoners were reading books, and pamphlets, histories, novels, and books on philosophy, science, and religion. Some of these books were new and nicely bound, others much worn and evidently the worse for prison use. By inquiring, I found that these books were fur- nished to the prisoners by a young lady who lived near the prison, and that by sending a request by one of the rebel guards, I could get a book. I accordingly wrote a polite note, saying that I would be glad to borrow something to read, and sent it to this lady by one of the rebel guards. He returned with one of Scott's 78 THE SMOKED TANK. novels. Having read this, I returned it and got another, and had something to read all the time I was there, as did every other prisoner who so desired. The books she sent, whether all her own or bor- rowed in part, were almost all so badly worn and soiled by the constant use in hands none too clean, as to be of little value afterward. In fact, that young lady sacrificed her library for our sakes; and, in doing so, she furnished the only example that I ever witnessed or of which I have ever heard, of disinterested kindness to a Yankee prisoner from a rebel lady. The note I sent out for books was addressed to Miss Belle Gardner. Returning the first book obtained, I sent a note of thanks and a request for another book and so on, making each note a little longer and a little less formal until I drew from her a short note in reply. Then with each new book I got a note. Young as I was, naturally fond of adventure, and the natural bent of my mind stimulated by constant reading of Scott's, Bulwer's and other novels, is it any wonder that my correspondence with this young lady began to seem to me romantic, and that I began to en- tertain for her feelings stronger than those of grati- tude? I was not head over heels in love, badly mashed as you boys of to-day would say, but I was conscious of a turbulent desire to see my kind but unknown cor- respondent. There was an enclosure or yard around the door of the prison where we did our washing and cooking. It was a high board fence, the boards nailed on up and down close together. Only those whose turn it was EAGER FOR A GLIMPSE OF THE DAMSEL. THE SMOKED TANK. 79 to do the cooking for a mess were allowed to be in this yard. One day when I was out there as cook, I ascertained from a guard that Miss Belle lived in a house across the street. Then I enlarged the crack between two boards of the fence with a jack-knife, making a hole large enough so that I could get a good view of the house. There was no trouble about getting into this yard; all I had to do was to take the place of some one whose turn it was to cook and who found no pleasure in the task. For several days, most of my time was spent at my hole in the wall, eager for a glimpse of the damsel whom my excited imagination had pictured as possessing all the beauty, loveliness, grace and other heroine qualities of a Rebecca. My vigils were never rewarded. I sent her a note requesting her to appear at a certain hour on the porch. She never appeared. Then I cultivated the acquaint- ance of one of the guards, and was in a fair way to ar- range through him for a meeting outside the prison, when orders came for our removal, and the conditions and materials for an exquisite romance in real life were rudely broken and scattered. CHAPTER X. CAHABA REVISITED IN 1 884 — A DELIGHTFUL RIDE — THE FREEDMEN OF THE SOUTH — A DESERTED VILLAGE — AN OLD MANSION — MRS. GARDNER, " THE FRIEND OF THE UNFORTUNATE." In the spring of 1884, just after the opening chap- ter of this little book was written, finding it almost im- possible to write with any satisfaction while subject to the usual interruptions and annoyance of business life, I resolved to cut loose from all communications and devote a few weeks exclusively to the work in hand. Besides, I had often thought I would like to see that Southern country again, and that a trip over the old war path would quicken my recollection of the places and incidents about which I wished to write. Of course I visited Cahaba. I arrived at Selma early in April, just twenty years to a day from the time I went through there a prisoner of war. Selma is a beautiful city of five or six thousand people, situated on the Alabama river, and in the "black belt" of Alabama. Had always supposed that the "black belt" of Alabama was a region where black negroes were thicker than elsewhere. It is the region of black soil. I was not far out of the way, however, because the negroes are thicker in the " black belt " than elsewhere. I shall always remember with pleasure my ride on THE SMOKED TANK. 8i that delightful April morning from Selma down the river to Cahaba. April there corresponds to June here in South Dakota. I rode horseback. It was to me like riding through a botanical paradise. Spring-time just blooming into summer and such a profusion of flowers. There were great trees loaded with blossoms, and the ground was covered with flowers in full bloom. Where the road passed through cultivated land, the hedge on each side was covered with the Cherokee rose, and was a solid mass of variegated color. There were great, tall pine trees covered to the top with the blossoms of the Cherokee rose. And then the music in the air from the thousands of feathered songsters, each sing- ing as though it were trying to drown the notes of all the rest. It was Saturday, and market day. The road was thronged with negroes going to market. What subjects there for an artist's sketch-book. All kinds and condi- tions of the farming class of negroes. Some on foot, carrying bundles on their heads. Some on mules or horses, carrying all manner of truck before and behind; some in carts or wagons drawn by mules or horses, or a horse and a mule, and sometimes a mule and an ox. Old, broken-down horses, lame or blind, or both, hitched to older and worse broken buggies and car- riages, with old straps and ropes, which were tied together for harness. Men, women, and children; it seemed as though no member of any family had staid at home. Chickens, ducks, geese, pigs, sheep, a fatted calf, garden truck, butter, eggs, and one bale of cotton, were being hauled, carried or " toted " to market. Bi THE SMOKED YANK. One day spent at the market in Selma, on market- day, will give a man a better idea of the condition of the freedmen of the South than he can get by reading all the speeches on that subject that have been printed in the Congressional Globe, during the last twenty years. I had remembered Cahaba as a bright little town of two or three thousand inhabitants. As I approached the place that morning, I noticed with some surprise that the road instead of becoming better traveled, was dwindling away to a mere wood road, such as the use from an ordinary farm would make. Coming out of the woods to the river bank and looking across to where I expected to see a city, behold there were but a few; and those apparently abandoned, houses. There is an old-fashioned ferry worked with poles. It takes nearly an hour of yelling to bring the ferryman, who explains to me that " De City of Cahaba mos' all been moved to Selma." Cahaba was once the capital of Alabama. Before the war, it was the county seat and a prosperous place; had a railroad; the county seat was moved to Selma, and then the town died. The railroad was abandoned, and most of the brick houses were taken down and transported on boats to Selma and other places. To a Northern man, it seems strange that a town located on a navigable river, with railroad communications could be brought so low. There was nothing there, not even a brick or stone, nothing but a rank growth of weeds to mark the place where the old prison warehouse stood. Only a few white families were left in the place, and these were THE SMOKED TANK. 83 very poor. I found a white man, George Brenner, who was one of the guards when the Yankee prisoners were there. He knew the Gardners; was Hving in the house that was occupied by them when I was a prisoner. It was not the house that I had watched so long and so anxiously through my hole in the fence. I had been the victim of a guard's mistake. This man told me that the Gardners were living in Selma. I was much interested in this " Deserted Village." It is a charming site for a city, and on the banks of one of the most beautiful rivers in the world. About half a mile from the center of the old town, there stands an old mansion, not old enough to have shown the ravages of time had there been no years of neglect, which is, on a smaller scale, almost a fac-simile of the White House at Washington. It is white, finished on the outside in imitation of stone, has an im- posing porch with Grecian columns, grand hall and stairway, and large rooms with high ceilings. The ex- tensive grounds are artistically laid out. There are graveled walks, flowers, shrubbery, and trees in endless variety. There are two artesian wells, one of them said to be the second in rank in all the world, measured by the force with which the water comes out. It was out of repair when I was there, but the old woman in charge said that if I were to drop a twenty-dollar gold piece into the pipe, it would fly right up in the air. I took her word for it. All this property is under the charge of one old negro woman. She had lived there a long time before the war as a slave, and I sat for hours listening to her 84 THE SMOKED YANK. stories of the grand old times she used to see in that mansion ; weddings, balls, parties that lasted for weeks. It was one of the places where in her days of wealth and lavish hospitality, the "Sunny South" had been wont to gather her "beauty and her chivalry." What a delightful story it would make if some such writer as Cable should re-people that old town and that old mansion, and weave into fiction the facts that such old negroes could give. I found Mrs. Amanda Gardner living with her daughter Belle, in a rented house in Selma. She is over 60 years old, but quite active for one of that age. She is of good family, and in every sense, a lady of culture and refinement. She is a fluent talker and uses elegant language. One of the leading men of the place told me that Mrs. Gardner had the reputation of being one of the kindest-hearted and most intelligent women in the country. The daughter, Belle, is a dressmaker, an occupation she very much dislikes, but is compelled to follow, in order to earn a living for herself and mother. Belle was only a little girl of thirteen or fourteen, in April, 1864, and wore short dresses. Mrs. Gardner was during the war, and still is, for that matter, a thorough rebel. That is, she believed the South was right, and still believes so. She had one son killed early in the war, and another, a mere boy, was in the service and was taken prisoner at Selma, by General Wilson's cavalry. Wilson's men had heard of Mrs. Gardner's kindness to Union prisoners, and as a token of appreciation, they set her boy at liberty and sent him home to his mother. THE SMOKED YANK. 85 Mrs. Gardner said that when the prison was established at Cahaba, she had a large library of choice books that had been given to her by her uncle, Judge Beverly Walker, of Augusta. It was his private library, and he gave it to her when he broke up house-keeping. She said that her heart was moved to pity by the forlorn condition of the prisoners, and she began to loan them books. She had all the standard poets, in handsome binding. Scott's, Dickens', and Lytton's novels, and many others in complete sets. Histories, biographies, books of travel, works on science, philosophy, and religion. A large and well-selected private library. Nearly all of these books were completely worn out. Only those in calf binding and on the less interesting subjects of philosophy, science, and religion, were left whole, and even these were much worn and soiled. I saw in a second-hand store and auction house at Selma, where she had placed them for sale, two or three dozen of those worn and soiled books, all that was left of Mrs. Gardner's once elegant library. Lending books was not all that Mrs. Gardner did. She took especial interest in those that became sick, and procured and furnished them with suitable food and medicines. Several were nursed in her own house. When winter came, many of the prisoners had no blankets and but little clothing. She gave them every- thing she had in her house that she could possibly spare, and procured all she could from her neighbors. Said she took up every carpet she had and cut it into pieces the size of a blanket, in order to relieve the sufferings of those poor prisoners. 86 THE SMOKED TANK. These things were not done in a corner. Mrs. Gardner was arraigned, either before the church or some citizens' meeting, on the charge of being a Union woman, and of furnishing aid and comfort to the enemy. Captain H. H. N. Henderson, who had the immediate charge of the prison, came to her relief and boldly defended her, endorsing all she had done. Had it not been for his assistance, she would doubtless have been found guilty, and banished. I presume that he is the officer that had charge of the prison when I was there, and who went with us to Andersonville. Mrs. Gardner showed me over one hundred notes written by prisoners, some addressed to her, and some to Miss Belle. These tell the story of what she did, and at the same time furnish indisputable proof of it. She had two bundles of these notes containing request and acknowledgments, but she lost one bundle when she moved from Cahaba to Selma. I did not find among those she had, any that were written by myself. She has also received since the war a good many letters from prisoners whom she befriended, and some have remembered her with presents. When I saw the proofs that Mrs. Gardner possessed of the things she did, and the sacrifices she made for Union prisoners, I supposed it would be the easiest thing in the world to get Congress to pass an act for her relief and remuneration. I at once opened correspondence with senators and members of the House. They all said to pass such an act would be to let down the bars for thousands of other claims in which there was no merit. It THE SMOKED YANK. 87 would be a precedent that they dare not estabHsh. Something ought to be done for Mrs. Gardner. She is old and poor, and is probably the only southern lady of rebel sentiments, who actuated by Christian charity alone, furnished aid and comfort to distressed Union prisoners. Note. — Mrs. Amanda Gardner is now living with her daughter Belle, in New York. She is at this date, February, 1888, seventy-two years old. Her address is No. 4 West Thirteenth street. The following are samples of the notes she has kept that were sent her by Union prisoners: Military Prison, \ Cahaba, Ala., June 4th, \ Mrs. Amanda Gardner: Will you please send some books to the sub- scribers to while away the hours of prison life. Respectfully, J. R. BOWEN, Chas. Reynolds, Chas, Harris, James Farrelt.. Castle Morgan, June 5th. Mrs. Amanda Gardner: Please accept my thanks for the loan of this; be kind enough to send me another. Chas. Harris, Co. K, 13th Ills. Vol. Cahaba Prison, March 14th. Mrs. Gardner: If you please to send me some nice interesting book to read and I will return it with care. B. F. Daughtery, Private of Co. 8, 37th Reg't. Ills. Inft. Vol. Prison. Mrs. Gardner: Will you please let five of us have your washing machine and tub to wash some clothes. Clement Ballinger. Cahaba, Ala., March 5, 1865. Mrs. Amanda Gardner: Kind Madam — We are all about to bid farewell to Castle Morgan. Some are already on their homeward journey; we will soon follow, rejoicing we are once more free . I feel I cannot leave without first expressing my heartfelt thanks to you for the noble and humane kindness you have so generously be- stowed upon the prisoners while confined here; aiding them by the kind dispensa- tion of your books among them, to while away the tedious hours of captivity both pleasantly and instructively, which otherwise would have been passed in discon- tent and lonesome weariness. I regret exceedingly, that there were some among them, who were so worthless, as to abuse your books in a shameful manner, but the majority appreciating the noble impul.-es of thy generous heart, were careful in the use of the works, knowing full well that you were making a noble sacrifice 88 THE SMOKED YANK. of your library for their benefit. I regret that one of the books returned to you entitled "Famous Persons and Places," is so badly abused; it was stolen from me and for a long time I knew not what had become of it; after making repeated inquiries it was returned to me in its present condition. Trusting you will par- don me, as I regret exceedingly that such a thing occurred. Be assured, kind Madam, that when we are once more surrounded by kind and loving friends, and in the enjoyment of all that makes life happy and ,igieeable, our thoughts will often revert to our kind Benefactress at Cahaba; many a silent prayer will be sent heavenward, that you and your lovely family may be spared the horrors of ♦.his unnatural and relentless war. Many a man will speak in glowing terms oi thy noble generosity, and you will ever be remembered as a friend of the unfor- tunate. The day is not far distant when Peace the great tranquilizer, will again unite o:x distracted country in perfect harmony and unity. The end is fast approachi.g when we may again enjoy all the requisites that make life both pleasant and agreeable. OVvV and Religious Liberty is just as sure to rule supreme, as Jehovah guides the Universe. May Heaven's richest blessings descend upon you and your darling family; and when you are called hence to that "bourne whence no traveler returns," may you ascend to that glorious abode of angels, "where wars, and rumors of wars are never heard," is the wish of one who is happy to subscribe himself your well wisher. Farewell. Very respectfully, C. W. HAYES, Hospital Steward, 3rd. Ills. Vol. Cavalry. Cahaba Prison. Mrs. Gardner: Will you please send a book to read. I will take care of it, and return it in good order. Geo. H. Chadwick, Co. C, 1st Ills. Cav. Mrs. Gardner: May the blessing of God ever descend upon thy devoted head, for your kind consideration concerning the unfortunate, is the prayer of one who appreciates the noble impulses of thy generous heart. Yours in friendship, A Prisoner. Address: ''Mrs. Amanda Gardner, Cahaba, Alabama. A lady of excellent worth, and a friend to those in distress." Cahaba, Ala.. Prison, ) April II, 1864. \ Mrs. Gardner: Please lend me " Botta's History." I will take good care of it and return when done. Your Ob't Serv't, J as. B. Slusser, 3rd Ills. Cav. Vol. Castle Morgan, \ July 8, -64. S Mrs. A. Gardner: Dear Madam— I return the book that you lent me, and am very much obliged to you for It. I have taken the best care of it that I could. If you have the other volume of the same work. I would be very glad if you would lend it to me; and if not, I am glad to get any book that is interesting. Yours Respectfully, William English, Co. F, 7th Ky. Cav. THE SMOKED YANK. 89 Cahaba, Ala., \ July nth, 1864. \ Madatn: In returning the accompanying books with many thanks, I would respectfully beg of you the loan of another/- Yours obediently, J. W. S. Beattie, 2d La. Fed. Cavalry. Madam: Will you be so kind as to send me — a prisoner^one or two books to pass away the time. Having heard from our men how kind you have been in sending reading matter to them, I make so bold in addressinij you in my behalf. I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servant, Thos McElroy, To— Capt. U. S. Navy. Mrs. Gardner. Cahaba Prison, May 21st. Mrs. Gardner: Please excuse me for troubling you for a little vinegar, as I have a high fever every day and crave it and I believe it would do me much good. Yours with respect, Michael O'Farrel. iiSthlll. Mfd. Inft. April 15th, 1864. Will Mrs. Gardner please send me a book to read, and oblige. Very Resp't, James Miller, • 4th U.S. Cav. Cahaba, Jan. i8th, 1864. Respected Madam: An unfortunate prisoner of war begs you will excuse the liberty he has taken in thus addressing you. Your many acts of kindness to us will ever be gratefully remembered. II possible to repay you, how gladly would we. But Madam we know your noble heart would resent any such offer- ing, and we have only the opportunity left us of returning you the heartfelt thanks of all the prisoners. And liow I trespass on your kindness still further. My time for service has nearly expired. I do most earnestly desire to be ex- changed. If within your power, by your kindly influence, to assist me, the re- membrance of the happiness you would confer on an unfortunate man, I am sure, would amply repay your generous nature. I am, most respectfully, ANDREW McFARLAND. Note — My mother secured his exchange, and he went his way rejoicing. — Belle Gardner. CHAPTER XI. WE LEAVE CAHABA — A SONG BATTLE — " LET THE DAMN YANKEES starve" — WE ENTER ANDERSONVILLE— WALK- ING MUMMIES AND SMOKED SKELETONS — DISCOURAGING PROSPECTS. I have already stated that we were moved from Cahaba to Andersonville. Before starting, three days' rations of meat, rice and meal were issued to us. Unfortunately, we cooked it all, and before we reached Montgomery, by steamboat— it is needless to remark that we were all deck passengers — our rations of rice and meal had soured, and could not be eaten. At Mont- gomery, the officers procured all the meal they could for us, but not enough to go round. There we were put on flat-cars, some in box-cars, and started, as we were told, to Savannah to be exchanged. At Columbus, our locomotive gave out and our ra- tions likewise, and we stopped for repairs. We were there from noon of one day until afternoon of the next. Although we were all without food and hungry, and made our necessities known to hundreds of people that flocked around to see us, an ear of corn each was all we received. I was satisfied that the officers in charge tried to do better by us, but there was no quartermaster there, and they had no money with which to pay for what the citizens were unwilling to give. We heard many such remarks as: " Let the damn Yankees starve. They will soon learn to do without eating and they may THE SMOKED TANK. 91 as well begin now, etc." Had we known then what we soon after learned, we would surely have made a break for liberty. There was an old unoccupied hotel building near the railroad track, and our guards allowed some of us to go into it to pass the night. It was a beautiful moon- light-evening, and a crowd of young people, boys and young ladies, gathered there to see us. Some of our boys began to sing Union songs. Then the Southern girls gave us a rebel song, and directly we were having a song-battle, and turn about, we fired songs at each other until long into the night. At Fort Valley, in Georgia, we were turned on to a track that we knew did not lead to Savannah, and by inquiring from those who came around to see the Yan- kee prisoners, we learned that Andersonville, the great prison-pen, was on the road ahead of us. Our guards, too, were doubled there. But though our hopes of im- mediate exchange began to vanish, little did we dream what Andersonville meant. We supposed it to be some- thing like Cahaba, and though that was not a comfort- able place, it was endurable. We were out of food when we got to Columbus. Forty-eight hours after- ward, we came in sight of a stockade in which, we were told, there were 20,000 Union soldiers. Forty- eight hours without other food than a little corn, makes a healthy man hungry. I was not only healthy, but young and growing. I was hungry, but I thought to myself, in fact it was the expressed thought of all, we will soon be among friends who will be glad to re- lieve our pressing wants. In this instance, there was 92 THE SMOKED TANK. more pleasure in anticipation than in participation. No pen, no words can describe, no pencil can approach the scene that burst upon our astonished eyes, as we entered the gate of that — I shall not call it in- fernal, nor terrible, nor horrible, nor hell's hole, but simply Andersonville; and hereafter when a writer would describe a misery so infernal, or depict a horror so atrocious that no suitable words can be found in any language, let him merely liken it unto the miseries and horrors of Andersonville. The sun was just setting when we started from the station to the prison. It was about dark when we reached the outer gate. As we approached, sounds came to our ears, at first like the roaring of the sea, heard a long way off. Drawing nearer, the noise resembled somewhat that made by a large army going into camp. It was unlike the noise of an army or the roar of a large city, because there were no sounds of wheels or rattle of tools. It was a Babel of human voices only. There was something strangely doleful and ominous, even in those sounds. The gates were thrown open. On each side of what seemed a street, leaving room for us to pass in column of twos, we saw a dense mass of beings. Those in the front ranks held in their hands cups, cans and little pails, and chunks of bread. They are there, we thought, to hand us food as we pass. We entered. The line on either side was a line of living, human skeletons, walking mummies ; ragged, many nearly naked, all skin and bone, black as Indians, not exactly smoked Yanks, but the smoked skeletons of Yanks. o o tz! c d w > c > o a c c r > z c THE SMOKED TANK. 209 and desiring to mislead him, I pulled the canoe out of the water some distance below the road, and hid it in the brush, then concealed myself near enough to the landing to hear what might be said when the boat ar- rived. The way that old negro lashed me with his tongue when he got over and saw no boat, was amusing. The rebel, too, had thought all the time that I was a deserter. When he rode off, I came out as the smart old darky had expected me to do, and he explained with great gusto how he had done " all dat cussin' jus' to t'row dat white ossifer off from de scent; knowed all de time dat you would turn up roun' hyer sumwheres, soon as dat odder white man done gone out e'n de way." It will be noticed that in my notes taken as I trav- eled, little reference is made to the assistance received from colored friends. They furnished me with food, concealed me in some place where I could sleep during the day, either in secluded woods by a fire, or covered up in a fodder or gin house. To have mentioned these things, would have exposed them to possible discovery and punishment. My notes of that crossing are as fol- lows: ''Jan. 15, 1865. Did not travel last night. Heard that the swamp was up so that I could not get to the river on foot. Came to the river to-day and had to wade through water up to my shoulders to get there. Some negroes are here who have been waiting two days toget across. They say the ferry is three miles long, and that the boat will not be over until to- morrow. THE SMOKED TANK. " Jan. i6, 1865. The boat came over to-day. A rebel officer came over with it; managed to escape his notice. Just as we were about to start, a white man, a surgeon in the rebel army, rode up. Did not see him in time to get out of the way, and had to cross over with him. He asked me some troublesome questions, but did not make much." Having obtained directions from the negroes, I started on toward Branchville. I walked rapidly until about one o'clock, when, being tired and hungry, and seeing a light in a negro quarter that I was passing, I concluded to rest and get something to eat. In answer to my rap on the door, "Who's da?" came in a woman's voice. " Is that you aunty?" I said. " Where is uncle? I want to see him." "Who's you prowlin' around dis time o' night?" I told her that I was a white man and had lost my way. She said her man had gone to a " white folks' " house, and that I could go over there to see him. I gave her to under- stand that I did not want to be seen by any white man, and, if I had told her why, it would have been all right. I prevailed on her to open the door so that I might sit by the fire until uncle got back. I sat down by the fire when she remarked, " Dat fire's gittin' mighty low," and went out. I heard her chopping with an axe and supposed she would be in presently to replenish the fire. The next thing I heard was, " Come out of that niggah quarter! you damn white of a — — -." I opened the door and there in the moonlight, twenty THE SMOKED TANK. 211 yards away, stood a young man in rebel uniform, with a double-barreled shot-gun in his hands. As I stood in the door-way he gave vent to a per- fect volume of oaths and vile epithets, such as, " Come out of that ar' niggah house, or I will blow your d d head off!" Putting on more assurance than I felt, I said, " You had better find out who you are talking to, sir, before you use such language. If you are so keen to shoot, you better go to the front and try it on the Yanks." Somewhat cooled down, he then asked me to give an account of myself. I gave him the Sumpterville delayed-train story. " What regiment does your battalion belong to?" he said. This was another stunner. I did not remember to have heard the number of the regiment. Answering at random, " The 37th South Carolina," I said. " The h — 1 you do! There ain't no 37th South Carolina. Can't play that game on me. I arrest you, sir." I stuck to my story, and intimated that a South Carolina soldier must be lamentably ignorant of what was going on in the state if he didn't know that there was a 37th South Carolina. I told him that if he even had this year's almanac in the house, I could prove it to him. He took me into the house, saying that he was going to Orangeburg after breakfast, and that he would take me along and let me convince the provost marshal that there was a 37th South Carolina. We sat down by the fire. I looked the young man over and concluded that if he undertook to take me to Branchville, as he proposed, in a one-horse buggy and 212 THE SMOKED YANK. guard me with a shot-gun, there would be trouble on the way. Still the best plan for me was to get out of the scrape by strategy if possible. The young man belonged to the rebel cavalry. He was at home on a furlough, and was going to Orange- ville that day to get married. His brother had left about one o'clock, so as to reach a station in time for an early train that would take him back to his regiment at Richmond, The negro man had gone with this brother. The negro woman took me for one of the rebel deserters that infested the neighborhood, often robbing chicken-roosts and pig-pens, and making them- selves a terror to the negroes generally. She had chop- ped with the axe to make believe, then ran to the white folks' house, where the people were up to " speed the parting guest," and told them that there was one of the deserters in her house. The soldier was right about there being no South Carolina regiment numbered thirty-seven. There were more than thirty-seven regiments in the army from South Carolina, but as each city was ambitious to put the first regiment in the field, there was a ist South Carolina regiment from Charleston, a ist from Colum- bia, and so on. A 2d, from several places, and so with each number. So, at least, this soldier said. Still, I persistently stuck to my story; claimed that my regi- ment was organized in the northeast corner of the state, was made up lately of home-guards, old men and boys, and I believe he finally concluded that it was poss- ible for him to be wrong. We sat there talking until nearly breakfast time. THE SMOKED TANK. 213 Then the young soldier, taking his shot-gun, went out on the porch, and as he stood there giving some direc- tions about the horse he was to drive to Orangeburg, his sister-in-law came into the room. She was the wife of the soldier who had left at one o'clock, and mother of a bright little girl of five or six years, whom I held on my knee and had been telling stories to about -4;he Yankees. The lady expressed the hope that I would have no trouble in making everything right when I got to Orangeburg. Said she was sorry to have her brother- in-law take a prisoner with him when he was going to meet his bride. Taking my cue from her sympathetic mood, I beg- ged her to intercede for me with her brother-in-law. I told her I only had verbal permission from my officers to leave the command. That the provost marshal would not believe my story; that he would hold me under arrest. That my officers would be sent on from Branchville to the front, and there would be no telling how long I would be held as a prisoner in a guard- house. That my people, my mother and sisters, would be sure to hear of it, and they would be sorely dis- tressed. That I would much rather the news went home that I was shot than that I had been arrested as a deserter. I assured her, with tears in my eyes, on the word and honor of a gentleman, that there was nothing I so much desired as to get to the front where I could fight for my country. This last was truth; but oh, the lies I told that lady. Was I excusable under the circumstances? Ask some 214 THE SMOKED YANK. moral philosopher. Let him reason it out. To me, life was sweet, liberty dear. If conscience is any guide, mine at that moment held me guiltless of all wrong. A man may talk about conscience while he steals your spoons, but I doubt if such honest tears as mine were can be made to trickle down his cheeks while he is doing that which conscience holds to be wrong. Tears came to the lady's eyes, too. She went out on the porch. I heard, but cannot recall exactly her words. As I stood there listening, it occurred to me that here was a sample of that Southern chivalry which I had al- ways believed in, but seldom had a glimpse of. He tried to refuse. She would not let him. "Why, John," she said, "you must let him go. Think of his mother and sisters. What would your mother and your sisters say? Think of your Maggie, John, and this is your wedding day. Would you have this boy curse you on your wedding day? Oh, you must let him go." Then her arms went around his neck, there was one long, resounding kiss, and she brought in the gun. The soldier followed her, laughing. He said he supposed he would have to let me off, as there was no use trying to refuse a woman. We all sat down to breakfast. That over, the soldier invited me to ride with him to where the Branchville road tu'rned off from that to Orangeville, which I did. There was no hypoc- risy in the thanks I tried to express to the lady of that Southern home, as I took her hand at parting. At the forks of the road I parted with the young soldier, wishing him joy at his wedding, and thanking THE SMOKED YANK. 215 him warmly for his kindness. " Don't think you have much cause for thanking me," he said, meaning that to his sister-in-law I owed my release. " Well, you have both given me more cause for thanks than you are aware of," I said, turning from him to conceal the smile I coulci not suppress. No boy just out of school, no bird just freed from a cage, ever whistled or sung with a gayer heart than mine, as I went merrily on my way that bright frosty morning. For a while the road led me to a timbered country, but at length I came to where the road was a lane, with cultivated fields on each side. Some distance ahead I saw plantation houses, and concluded to get by them by walking through the corn field on the opposite side. Nearing these houses I saw a white man on the porch, and perceived at the same time that he was watching me. Presently he shouted and motioned to me to come to him. I kept on, as though I had neither seen or heard. Then he called to some one to loose the dogs, and gun in hand, started on the run in my di- rection. Naturally fleet of foot and long-winded, I was soon in the woods, beyond that corn field, and glad to find a swamp there. Wet ground at first, then a little water, then ankle deep. Straight on I ran, knowing that no ordinary white man could keep me in sight, and that dogs could not track me through water. When I had gone far enough to feel perfectly safe, I climbed into some wild vines, where I could rest and be out of the water, and there I stayed until dark. 2i6 THE SMOKED YANK. That was a hard night. It rained and was pitch dark. I could not see the trees; had to feel for them with a stick. I fell over logs, got tangled in vines, pricked by thorns and scratched by briars. Toward morning, guided by the sound of crowing cocks, I got out of the swamp, and found a negro quar- ter. Woefully tired, famished for food, wet to the skin, with torn and muddy clothes, and bleeding wounds, I was surely a pitiable object as I stood by the pitch pine fire those trusty darkies built for me. CHAPTER XXV. I STEAL MULES AND TAKE A RIDE — -A WELL-LAID SCHEME " GANG AFT AGLEE " — SOME DANGEROUS FLACES — CROSSING THE SALKAHATCHIE. That day, January 17, I was furnished with some ■y j&offte dry clothes, was well warmed and fed, and laid away in a fodder house while my shoes and pants were repaired. Was considerably disgusted to learn that I was only three miles from the place where the man took after me in the corn field. I had spent the night traveling, in more or less of a circle, in the swamp that bordered Cattle Creek. Was now twelve miles south- east of Branchville. Desired to cross the Edisto River. Heavy rains had swollen all the streams and filled the swamps with water. All the streams in that part of South Carolina run from northwest to southeast. As I was making for Savannah, my route lay across all the streams and swamps. Nearly all of the roads run par- allel with the streams. The inhabitants of the country were in a state of excitement and alarm, apprehending an invasion of the state by Sherman's army. Rebel soldiers were being collected at Branchville and other points, and preparations made to meet the invader. The masters feared that their negroes would rise en masse, and go to meet their deliverers. Desertion from the rebel troops were frequent. The ferries and bridges on all important streams were guarded, and mounted patrols were upon all the highways. Under 2i8 THE SMOKED TANK. these circumstances it was exceedingly difficult for me to pass through the country. Even the negroes, always so willing to furnish food, or to travel at night as guides, were afraid to stir out by night, lest they be caught by the patrols, and killed for example. I spent two days and nights trying to find some unguarded place where I could cross the Edisto. Finally, I met a young negro, who told me there was no guard on the bridges that crossed the two Edisto Rivers above where they came together. He said the water was so deep between the two bridges that no guard was necessary. This boy had daring enough for anything. He wanted to take me across these bridges, which he said he could reach by wading and swimming, but as it was ten miles from his home to the nearest bridge, he was afraid he could not make the trip and get back in one night. I suggested that we borrow a couple of his master's mules and ride. He was willing to run the risk of being caught putting the mules into the stable when he should return, but was not willing to risk being caught trying to take them out. So about ii o'clock that night, while the negro boy was conveniently posted so as to give a signal in case of danger, I slippped into the barn and brought out a span of mules. We had to ride bareback, because the saddles were at the house, where they could not be easily obtained. I had wondered how this boy expected to pass the pa- trol on the road, traveling this way. Usually when I traveled with a negro for guide he walked ahead, and there was little danger of our meeting any white man THE SMOKED TANK. 219 whom his quick eye or attentive ear did not first dis- cover, I asked this boy how we were to get by the pa- trol on mules. " Don' you gib yourself no troubble 'bout dat, young massa; ain't gwine to meet no patrol on dat road what I'se gwine to trabble. You stick to dat ar mule, and I'se gwine to land you safe on todder side o' bofe dem ar Edisto Ribbers." I did stick to the mule, and there was little danger of meeting patrols on the road he " trabbled." It was through fields, over fences, and through by- paths in the woods. How he could tell where he was going in the dark puzzled me. We were several times in water that caused the mules to swim before we reached the first bridge, and had to swim in several places between the bridges, but he landed me safe across both Edistos, and did not leave me until he had turned me over to another negro two miles beyond. Riding bare-back on a mule was to me a new kind of exercise. The parts that rested on the mule were so badly excoriated, that for several days I could not walk in a natural manner. The next night I passed through Midway, and stop- ped with a negro who was a coachman for his master, and was going to cross the Salkahatchie to bring his master home. This river was also guarded. Troops under the rebel Hardee, and the cavalry general, Wheeler, were making preparations to meet and op- pose Sherman, should he attempt to come that way. The greatest uncertainty prevailed as to what route Sherman would take. The course that seemed to be best for me, was to go toward Savannah as rapidly as 220 THE SMOKED TANK. possible, provided I could get through the lines of the enemy. I anticipated difficulty in getting over the Salka- hatchie, for along that stream the rebels were preparing to make a stand. Not only bridges and causeways were guarded, but there was also a line of pickets close enough to be in sight of each other, walking their beats all along the stream. When the negro proposed to take me in a close carriage through this army of rebels and across a guarded bridge and causeway, I thought it a good scheme. He had a pass which read: " Pass my black boy, Sam, and carriage," and was signed by a colonel. We had arranged that in case the carriage should be stopped and questions asked, I was to claim to be a relative of the colonel on a visit to the family. If the guard at the bridge refused to let me over, I was to get out and pretend to be waiting for the return of the carriage, until I could secede. But " the best laid schemes of mice and men gang aft aglee." After wait- ing all one day and night for this chance to ride in a colonel's coach, it turned out in the morning when we were ready to start that one of the ladies of the family had concluded to ride over after the colonel. Had I been better clad and sufficiently posted as to what regiments were camped beyond the river, it would have been fine work, and feasible, to have introduced myself to this family and secured a ride under the protection of the pass. As it was, I had no time for preparation, and thought best to try some other plan. I remained all that day in the negro quarters where tv\^o women were at work carding and spinning wool. THE SMOKED YANK. 221 About noon two of Wheeler's cavalry rode up, hitched their horses and came into the house and ordered the women to get dinner for them. I had crawled under a bed when these men approached the house. One of them said he had been up all night and would take a nap while the dinner was cooking, so he came into the room where I was and lay down on the bed that I was under. I did not sleep while I was there. As soon as it was dark I resumed my journey, keeping the traveled road that led to the river; met a good many people, and some on horseback overtook and passed me. None of them saw me, however. My sense of hearing had become so acute that I could hear even the footsteps of a man long before I could distinguish his form by starlight, while the gallop of a horse, I verily believe I could hear, when listening with my ear to the ground, for half a mile. Once, while sleeping in the woods in the daytime, I was awa- kened by the sound of approaching footsteps, and on looking around, saw a negro at least a hundred yards away, coming with my dinner. I had resolved that night, having become well rested, to cover a long distance. I had not gone far when I came to where some soldiers had camped by the side of the road. I made a long detour in the woods to get by them, and when I came to a road, supposed it was the same I had been on, and walked until nearly morning before finding out that the soldiers were camped where two roads crossed, and that the one I had taken ran at right angles to the way I wanted to go. Toward morning I found a large number of ne- 222 THE SMOKED YANK. groes, men, women and children, sleeping in an old unused store building at somebody's corners. They had been brought from a plantation near Savannah to keep them from running away to Sher- man. They told me to cross the Salkahatchie and travel down the west side, and I would come to Sher- man's men, sure. The next night I traveled to within a mile of where the rebels, under Hardee, were building fortifications and guarding the bridge and causeway that crossed the river and the swamp. This was the place the negro had proposed to take me over in the carriage. I think he called it Brunson's bridge. After hiding during the day as usual, I concluded to find some negro who would go with me as a guide, before attempting to pass the guards and cross the river. About 1 1 o'clock that night I entered the cabin of an old negro, to whom I had been directed, and sat talking with him by the fire, when four or five "John- nies" opened the door without knocking, and came in. They were from a camp near by. All very young. I began at once to ask them what regiment they belonged to, what they were doing out so late, and to the im- mense delight of the old negro, who was at first badly scared, I kept them talking, first one and then another, about soldier life and Sherman, until they were ready to go, and not one of them thought of asking me where I belonged. These men wanted to buy chickens and eggs, and the old man hastened their departure by telling them to come right along with him and he would show them THE SMOKED TANK. 323 a black man who would take them to a plantation where there were plenty. On his return the old man said the safest way to cross the river was to go south to where it spread out, and formed what was called Whippey Swamp, and that I had better not try it without having some black man, who knew the swamp well, for a guide. He then went with me several miles, and left me with another negro. This man knew of two negroes, who had been brought from their master's home near Savannah, and who had run away, and were now trying to get back. They were now hiding in the woods, waiting for a night dark enough to enable them to crawl between the guards that were posted all along the edge of the swamp. He proposed to put me under their care. The next day this man and his wife (they had no children) left me locked up in their cabin, and went to work in some field, so far away that they did not return for dinner. At night the woman came back alone, say- ing her husband had gone to find out about the run- aways. I had eaten supper, and was enioying a pipe by the fire, when we were startled by a rapping on the door. The woman had locked it by pulling the latch string to the inside. In other words, the latch string wasn't out. To her question, " Who's da'?" the answer came: " Sol- diers, aunty. What you got yor do' fastened fah? Hurry up and let us in." She motioned to me to get into the bedroom, and she made all the noise she could, so that mine might not be heard. When she opened the door the two men came in. Said they must have 224 THE SMOKED TANK. some washing done, and despite her protests, saying she had worked hard all day, and couldn't possibly do it, they proceeded to take off the shirts and drawers that she must wash while they sat by the fire in pants and coat. They paid no attention whatever to her pro- tests; just told her to go right along and do it, and that she wouldn't get anything for it either, if she made any more fuss about it. In the back part of the bedroom there was a kind of a window — a square opening in the wall, with aboard door hung on leather hinges, and fastened on the in- side. I tried to open this and get out, but the door- fitted into the frame so that it would not open without noise. The woman probably heard the noise, and un- derstood what I was trying to do, for she came into the bedroom and got a padlock and chain, and proceeded to lock the bedroom door from the outside, putting the chain through a crack in the partition and hole in the door. Under cover of the noise she made I pushed the back window open and crawled out. She soon came out to put her kettle on for the washing, such work usu- ally being done out of doors, and gave a low whistle. This I answered, and she came and told me where to hide until her husband returned. The two soldiers belonged to some general's body- guard. The general had put up for the night at the white folks' house of the plantation, and the guards had camped in the yard. This the negro learned when he came back, and also where they were from and all about them. When he was ready to start away with me we passed along by their camp, and I lit my pipe at THE SMOKED YANK. 225 their fire and talked awhile with them. Stated to them that I belonged to one of the regiments that were camped up at the bridge and was out after provision. Partly because it was my mother tongue and partly by practice, I had learned the we'uns and you'ns, the broad a's and the no r's until, as this negro and many others told me, there was no danger of anyone suspecting me of being from the North. Accompanied by my negro guide, I walked several miles to the cabin of another man who knew where the runaways were concealed. There I had to wait while the runaways were sent for. As I sat by the big log fire which was burning in the old-fashioned fireplace, talking to a lot of negroes who had gathered there, about the war, the Northern army and the proclamation of Lincoln, that freed every slave, suddenly and without warning, in walked the master. He was a tall, slender man with gray hair and long gray beard, a typical Southern gentleman. It was so late at night that we had not expected such an inter- ruption, or a guard would have been placed to give warning. I had noticed the black eyes and shining white teeth of several little pickaninnies peeping in at the cracks of the cabin a little while before, but did not apprehend any danger from them. One had gone to the big house and told the massa that there was a white man in the negro house. Here he was, anger flashing from his eyes and ready to resent, if not to punish, a violation of a rigidly enforced Southern rule. No white man was allowed to 226 THE SMOKED TANtC. enter another negro's quarter without the consent of the master. Knowing this, I rose instantly, and before the old man had begun to vent his ire, I was making an apology. " You must excuse me, sir," I said, " for being in your negro quarters without your permission. I belong to General 's body-guard. We are camped at Mr. 's plantation. The large army under Hardee 0-- near there, have about used up everything on the place, and I came down here to see if I could find some chick- ens and eggs for my mess. I thought it was too late to disturb you, and was waiting here while one of your men went to hunt up some provisions for me. I trust, sir (the old man had on a blue Yankee overcoat) that the color of your coat does not indicate your sentiments. If it does, you will have to excuse me from making any apology whatever." This shot struck home. The old man straightened up and eloqently repelled the insinuation. He related with pride the sacrifices he had made to defend his country against the hired robbers of the black abolition ruler. He had sent his children and his grandchildren. All of his kith and kin able to bear arms were in the confederate armies, where they would spill the last drop of their blood rather than let the feet of the ruthless invader trample the sacred soil of South Carolina. " This coat, sir, was captured in honorable combat, and sent to me as a trophy of the war. As such, I am proud to wear it." It was easy to keep the old gentleman talking. In the meantime, one of the young negroes slipped out to warn those who had gone after the run- THE SMOKED YANK. 227 aways, and might be returning, of the situation. When the old man had talked his talk out, he invited me to go with him into the house and spend the night. Said he had a relative there on a visit who was a young man and a soldier like myself. An officer of Wheeler's cavalry. Thought two soldiers would enjoy visiting together. He pressed the invitation in truly chivalrous fashion. I regretted very much that I was obliged to return as soon as possible to camp, and could not there- fore accept. Then he pressed me to just come in and have a glass of peach brandy and a cigar. To get around that I pleaded great haste and promised to come down the next day and call on his relative and swap war stories with him. The planter returned to his house not seemingly well pleased, and I did not linger there to learn the effect his report might have on the visiting officer from Wheeler's cavalry. I was then taken about two miles and put in charge of the two runaway negroes. They had arranged to cross the swamp that night. Their preparations were all made. They had an axe, some pitch pine torches, and had selected a place where there were weeds and brush, to cross the beat of the rebel guard. We passed the guard and gained the edge of the swamp. Here our first difficulty was the thin ice that had formed on all of the still water. This was the coldest night I had experienced in that state, and the only one that I remember being cold enough to freeze ice on a stream. To break this ice without making sufficient noise to alarm the guard, rendered our progress for the 228 THE SMOKED YANK. first two or three hundred yards exceedingly slow. When fairly into the swamp, we lit the pine torches. Here we found the undergrowth of brush and vines al- most impenetrable. The water was from two to four feet over that part of the swamp that would have been dry ground during the summer season. The streams where the current was we •eit-ker had to bridge by cut- ting small trees and falling them across the stream. There was ice to break wherever there was no current. We were soon wet from head to foot, often falling in the matted vines and sometimes stepping into deep holes. One of the negroes was of middle age, the other a mere boy. A hardy man used to exposure can stand an hour or so of that kind of work and call it rather tough, but a whole night's struggle through thorns and briars, on turning logs and slippery poles, sometimes breaking ice, sometimes swimming in ice-cold water, will try the endurance of the toughest man. The boy's courage soon gave out. When we came to a small island where there was dry ground he lay down, and declared, his limbs shaking and his t?eeth chattering all the while, that " he would radda' die right den and da' dan to go eny fudda'." He would not be persuaded and we could not carry him. The man cut a good, withy switch and warmed his jacket. It was broad daylight when we got over, so numbed and stiffened with cold that we could scarcely move. We had kept a torch burning, otherwise we could not have built a fire. I thought I never would get warm, and my teeth would never cease to chatter, nor my body to ache. I stayed by that fire all day, striving in c a c C c d o ;> -to § CO THE SMOKED TANK. 229 vain to get warm. At night a negro, sent by the run- aways, took me to his cabin, and doctored me up with pepper tea and hot victuals, then wrapped in quihs and hid in a fodder house. I remained that night and the next day. I did not deem it prudent to keep in com- pany with the runaways, because if captured with them I would surely be killed, antl I could not be seen with them by any white man without his suspicions being aroused. CHAPTER XXVI. "the girl I LEFT BEHIND ME " — THE GRAND OLD FLAG AND THE BOYS IN BLUE — I AM DUBBED " SMOKED YANK." /^ I was now on the west side of th(|) Salkahatchie, between thirty and forty miles from Pocotaiago, where a portion of Sherman's army was in camp. There were no more rivers or swamps in my way and there was a well traveled road to follow, but there were swarms of rebel cavalry and rebel citizens all around me, watching for the approach of Sherman's army, picking up desert- ers and moving their slaves and other property to more secure places. There were white men on guard at every plantation and the negroes were in such a state of anxiety and terror, and so suspicious of a white man, that I found it almost impossible to communicate with them. They seemed afraid to talk with me or help me in any way, lest I should turn out to be a spy seeking to betray them. I was obliged to use the utmost caution and to travel only by day because I could get no guide, and if I traveled at night I could not tell where or when I might run on to the patrols or ambushed guards. Wearily and stealthily I crept along the edge of the swamp a mile or so from the road, making only ten or twelve miles in a day. Often when I could not find cotton or fodder in which to hide, I had to shiver with cold all night. The last three or four days were the THE SMOKED YANK. 231 most difficult and trying of my journey. I did not get food but two or three times and I hardly slept at all, but the thought of freedom, now so near, nerved me up, and in a measure compensated for lack of food and sleep. About nine o'clock in the forenoon of February ist, I began to hear a rumbling sound which I knew must be made by loaded wagons moving on the road. Whether they belonged to retreating rebel or an ad- vancing Union army, I could not tell, and I dared not take the risk of finding out. About noon, as I was moving cautiously along, peering in all directions from behind one tree before slipping to another, suddenly there burst upon my lis- tening ears the joyous notes of " The Girl I Left Behind Me," played by a full brass band. I knew that there was no rebel army with brass band in that vicinity, and I started on a full run toward the welcome sound. Reader, I can but faintly describe to you the kaleidscopic pictures which flashed across my mental vision during those supreme moments, as I ran, with hope before and fear behind. Home, father, mother, brother, sisters, the grand old flag, the boys in blue, these for an instant before me, and my feet seemed to spurn the passing ground — then, as the deeds of a life- time rush together into the memory of a drowning man — there rose up every scene that I had witnessed, or heard described, of the tortures inflicted on escaped prisoners brought back; the tearing of blood-hounds, the hanging by the thumbs, the agonies of the stocks; these behind, and I would turn in mortal terror, almost 232 THE SMOKED TANK. hearing the halt! halt! of dreaded pursuers. Thus, with mingled feelings of joy and fear, I ran on for nearly a mile through thick woods. Coming to an opening in the woods I climbed on to a fallen tree, and there across a field, marching in the road, with band playing and colors flying go the boys in blue. I take off my hat and try to shout. I cannot. My heart is in my throat. My strength is gone. I recline against the limbsof the tree, and sob and cry like a child, and wonder whether my strength will come back, or whether I must sit there helplessly and let that army go by. There was a slough in front of me, across that a house, and a road leading from the house down the side of the field to the road where the army was marching. Two men ride up to the house, and as they see me, and draw their revolvers, my strength returns. I throw up my hands and call to them not to shoot, that I am an escaped prisoner. These men belonged at the headquarters of Ha- zen's division of the Fifteenth Army Corps. One of them was an orderly, and the other, Pete McDowell, was quartermaster. McDowell was from La Crosse, Wisconsin, where one of the companies of my regiment was enlisted, and I had no trouble in satisfying him that I was what I represented myself to be. They secured for me a place to ridej^and I camped that night with General Hazen's orderlies. They were all young men, about my own- age, and they treated me with great kindness. They sat up that night until a late hour lis- tening to my account of prison life and of my escape. One of them, a bright young man, who was General > D O '-a C C w o t— I :^ td d THE SMOKED TANK. 233 Hazen's private orderly, and who was nick-named Stammy, because he stammered, declared that I had earned the garter, and insisted on performing the cere- mony of knighthood before I went to bed. He had no- ticed my unavailing efforts to remove with soap and water the effects of pitch-pine smoke from my hands and face, and so, drawing his sword, he delivered an impromptu, humorous harangue, slapped me on the back with the flat of the blade, and dubbed me " The S7iioked Yanky I kept no diary from the i8th of January to the ist of February, because I lost my pencil and could not get another. The morning after reaching the army I wrote, " February 2." " The army was in motion early this morning. I had breakfast — never knew before how much I liked coffee — then rode with Stammy, General Hazen's or- derly, up to General Sherman's headquarters. I re- ported to the adjutant-general. The general was standing near, heard me, and took me into his room. He seemed very much concerned about the condition of the prisoners at Florence. He made notes on a map of all that I could tell him about the rebel armies and the places where I had crossed the large streams and swamps. He said that some ambulances would go back to Pocotaligo to-day and that I could go with them and go home, or could go with the army to the sea again, and then go home. I told him I preferred to remain with the army. He called the adjutant and told him to see that I was provided for. The adjutant said he would get me a horse and arms, and that I could join the es- 234 ^^^ SMOKED YANK. cort. I prefer to remain with the boys at Hazen's headquarters with whom I am already acquainted." I rode that day with Stammy in a two-horse car- riage which he had captured, and was taking along, as he said, to give the old man (meaning Hazen) a ride once in a while. Stammy was the pet of the division. I still wore my rebel jacket, the same that Barrett took from me, but which I had recovered before leaving Florence. As we rode along every now and then some soldier would call out and say, " Hello there, Stammy! Where did you get that Johnnie?" Stammy would say, " Th-th-is a-a-int n-n-no J-J-Johnnie, th-th-is is a Smo-o- ked Yank." In this way he introduced me all along the line, and Smoked Yank was the only name I was known by in that army. Within a few days I secured a horse, a revolver and carbine, and began to take part in the great march. My regiment was not with Sherman's army, and I was therefore a detachment of myself, commanded only by myself. I got acquainted with Howard's scouts and rode with them whenever they had work to do that I cared to take part in, but whether with them, or with the common " bummers," I was always at the head of one or the other of the columns. The following is a sample from my note book: " Feb. g. Second Division, 15th Corps, reached the south branch of the Edisto to-day. The bridge had been partly destroyed. Some logs were piled up on the other side forming a kind of breastwork. Myself and three others were on the advance. It looked as though there might be rebs behind the logs. I left my horse THE SMOKED YANK. 235 and crawled along on the inside of a corn-field fence to find out. About eighty yards from the logs I stopped behind a clump of china trees. As I lay there on the ground watching, I saw a man's head over the logs. I was just drawing a bead on him, when about twenty rebels arose with a yell and fired at me. The balls struck all around me and sent the bark flying from the trees. They called out, "Come in you Yank! Come in you Yank!" There was enough of the bridge left for a man to cross on. I had no notion of coming in. As soon as our boys farther back began to fire, the rebs dodged down, and I got up and ran through the corn- field. They fired on me again, but I was not hit, though it was a close call — shall be more careful hereafter." The night before the city of Columbia was cap- tured, Hazen's division camped near the river opposite the city. The rebels shelled us during the night. I slept that night near Hazen's tent with my head against the body of a large tree. In the morning, before I had made my toilet. General Logan rode up to see Hazen. As he sat on his horse near my tree, waiting for Hazen to dress and come out, a cannon-ball passed through the top of the tree cutting off some limbs. Hazen came out of his tent, and Logan, who was in a jovial mood, with a gesture toward the city, said: "Hail, Columbia, happy land, if this town ain't burned, then I'll be damned!" A little while after I saw Logan again. He had a rifled cannon in a road that led to one of the burned bridges. When the gunners had the cannon loaded, Logan would sight it, then climb on to the high bank i36 THE SMOKED YANK. beside the road, adjust his field-glass, give the order to fire, and watch to see where the ball would strike. If I remember rightly, he was aiming at the State House, and aiming well, for he would wave his hat and call for three cheers for South Carolina after each discharge. He was having a high old time. When the pontoon bridge was ready, I crossed it with Howard's scouts and rode into the city. -We were the first into the city, and saw many rebel soldiers, offi- cers and men, taking leave of their friends. That night the great fire broke out which destroyed a large portion of that beautiful capital, and left thou- sands of people houseless and homeless. Many of these applied for permission to accompany our army when we continued our march. They were called refugees, and were divided up among the divisions of the 15th Corps. General Hazen asked me to take charge of the refugee train that was assigned to his division. I did so. Ten infantrymen were detailed as guards and for- agers and placed under my orders, and I was instructed to subsist my command from the commissary depart- ment of the enemy. I soon had the infantrymen well mounted on captured mules and horses, and while I had charge of them, Hazen's refugees did not suffer for anything that the state of South Carolina could furnish. There were some old men, but the greater portion of these refugees were women and children. Among those in my train were the wife and two charming daughters of a Lieutenant Thompson, who was one of the officers at Florence prison at the time I escaped. At Fayetteville, N.C., General Sherman issued an THE SMOKED YANK, 237 order requiring all of the refugees and escaped prison- ers to go with an infantry regiment down the Cape Fear River to Wilmington. I started with the rest, supposing that I would have charge of my train as be- fore. We traveled until noon and then stopped for din- ner. I rode up to the officer who had been placed in command and made some inquiries. He informed me that the refugees from that time on must forage for themselves. I suggested that it would be better to have a party of infantry mounted, and undertook to tell him how the refugee trains had previously been managed. He cut me short, and in a pompous manner ordered me to go back where I belonged, saying he would send for me when he needed advice. My recollection is, that Sherman had sent this officer away from the army be- cause his services were not considered indispensable. Not caring to serve under such a commander, I rode back that night and reported to General Hazen the next morning. From Fayetteville to Goldsboro, the rebel General Johnson was in our front and on our left flank, and there was considerable fighting every day. During the battle of Bentonsville my desire to see the fighting led me too far to the front, and I came near being gobbled up by a squad of rebel cavalry that I ran on to in some thick woods. Reaching a safe position, con- cluded to find General Sherman, so as to see how a great commander would act while a battle was in prog- ress. I found him and his staff in the yard in front of a farm house. The general was walking back and forth in the shade of some large trees. When not receiving 238 THE SMOKED YANJ^. messages and sending orders he acted like a very nef- vous and greatly excited man. He had a cigar in his mouth, and stepping up to an officer who was smoking, asked him for a light. The officer handed him his cigar. As the general lit his own cigar he seemed to be listening to the noise of the battle. Suddenly he turned, dropped the officer's cigar on the ground, and walked off puffing his own. The officer looked at him a moment, then laughed, picked up the cigar and con- tinued his smoke. When we reached Goldsboro, I learned from Gen- eral Hazen that Sherman was going to City Point to meet General Grant, and that the army would probably remain some time in camp. I concluded to go home. I had a fine English fox-hunter mare that I had captured on the march. She was the best riding horse I had ever ridden, and very handsome. General Sherman's adjutant-general had noticed and admired my horse, and when I learned that Sherman was about to go to City Point, I told the adjutant-general that if he would arrange so that I could go home from Goldsboro on the first train, that I would make him a present of the fox- hunter. He so arranged, and I left Goldsboro on the train which took Sherman and some of his staff to New Berne. From there I proceeded to Washington, where through the influence of the letters provided for me by the adjutant-general, I secured at the war department without delay, back pay, commutation of rations and clothing for the time I was in prison, and transportation home. A few days after my strange dream came true, except that I met my father first on the hill. -jP S' , ( AU Of/ '^' ^\ :i:- -11— :>yi3(^tt 5^^ -.;;?*«(( V^ 4M'^ .1// ^^r^ '-/'^< n/> s ^^%t^;:^