CAMP FIRE CHAT. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 https://archive.org/details/campfirechatsofc00davi_0 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF TIIE Civil War; BEING THE INCIDENT, ADVENTURE AND WAYSIDE EXPLOIT OF THE BIVOUAC AND BATTLE FIELD, AS RELATED BY VETERAN SOLDIERS THEMSELVES. EMBRACING THE TRAGEDY , ROMANCE , COMEDY, HUMOR AND PATHOS IN THE VARIED EXPERIENCES OF ARMY LIFE. BY WASHINGTON DAYIS. ALSO A HISTORY® OF THE GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC FROM ITS BEGINNING TO THE PRESENT DATE, AND OTHER VALUABLE INFORMATION. By A COMRADE. CHICAGO : COBLEIGH & ROTII. 1891. COPYRIGHT BY A* B. GEHMAN & CO. 1886 . . OONOHTTE & HENNEBERRY PRINTERS AND HINDERS, CHICAGO. <=) 73 - 7*3 D2“? c. I‘6 C I I TH E Gi^and Hi^my op THE ^EPUBLNS, THE VETERANS AND THE VOLUNTEERS OF THE CIVIL WAR, UPON WHOSE LOYALTY AROSE THE STANDARD OF PERPEV iiU LNlQsrf, AND TO THEIR WIVES, SISTERS AND MOTHER . f THI j3 VOLUJVIE IS ^ESPEGHIPUDLY DEDICATED, IN THE HOPE THAT IT MAY REMAIN A TESTAMENT TO THEIR HEROIC ENDURANCE, AND A TRIBUT* TO THEIR HALLOWED MEMORY. 7 Tenting on the Old Camp Ground.* We’re tenting to niglit on the old camp ground, — Give us a song to cheei Our weary hearts, a song of home And the friends we love so dear. chorus: Many are the hearts that are weary to-night. Wishing for the war to cease; Many are the hearts looking for the right. To see the dawn of peace. refrain: Tenting to-night, tenting to-night, Tenting on the old camp ground. We’ve been tenting to-night on the old camp ground* Thinking of days gone by; Of the loved ones at home who gave us the hand, And the ear hat said “Good-bye! ” chorus: We are tired of war on the old camp ground, — Many are dead and gone, Of the loved and true who’ve left their homes; Others been wounded long. chorus: We’ve been fighting to-day on the old camp ground, —«=» Many are lying near; Some are dead, and some dying; Many are in tears. CHORUS AND REFRAIN: Dying to n ; ght, dying to night. Dying on the old camp ground. “Copyright. Used by permission of O. Ditson & Co. vi preface. Z T is hoped that no “ crying need ” or “long-felt want” has Deen satisfied by the publication of Camp-Fire Chats. Nor has the manuscript been prepared for the private perusal of a few of the author’s friends; but this volume has been published for the same purpose as are other books in these latter days (save the reports issued by good old honest Uncle Sam), with the additional intent of preserving a few points of history, and some features of army life not before delineated. To this end the subject matter has been selected, with sufficient humorous incident, it is thought, to relieve the work of dryness. Only one claim is made: the stories are fresh and here- tofore unpublished; and in gathering the material from the field the publishers and the author have spared neither labor nor expense. It was realized that much wholesome ro- mance, together with many details in the history of the Civil War, remained treasured only in the memories of the veterans, or at least had not found their way into print, and must necessarily perish with the soldiers, unless the many interesting stories told at the various camp-fires of the Grand Army of the Republic, were preserved. The preservation of these also achieves a very praiseworthy re- sult: It furnishes to youthful minds a far better class of reading than the mass of exciting and pernicious literature thrust upon them from all sides. VI viii PREFACE. Each speaker has been given due credit, and is therefore responsible for the tale he has told. No character sketches have been attempted, for, since the characters are all living, it has been deemed unsafe for the author’s physical well-being; and then such sketches, either pen portrait or caricature, have been odious to the writer ever since his school-boy days, when he was cartooned on the old school-yard fence by a youthful genius with a stolen piece of chalk. Thanks to the many who have furnished the anecdotes herein contained, and for their kind assistance so freely tend- ered the author while collecting the data; and especially to Symmes M. Jelley, A. M. If the book is welcomed by the public as heartily as the author has been received by the members of the Grand Army, no anxiety will be felt by W. D. .January, 1884 . The Grand Army of the Republic has grown rapidly since 1884. Mighty in numbers ; leader in patriotism ; crowned with the admiration and love of the Nation : its success is both a pride and a joy to everyone. No other nation has such a body of men. Their plans, their acts, their words are eagerly read by Columbia's happy millions. The camp-fire chats of to-day have a precious value ; not alone when modestly recounting incidents of that American valor and voluntary sacrifice that the world pronounces un- equaled, but also when teaching genuine patriotism — an unselfish love of country. The publishers add fifty pages, skillfully • gathered by a Comrade from the G. A. R. riches of the past three years. ' January, 1887. CAMP-FIRE I. The S. P. U. H. — The First Camp-Fire — The Camp of Instruction- The Farmer and the Watermelons — “ How Tedious and Tasteless th Hours ” — The Closing Scene. CAMP-FIRE II. How a Balky Horse did not Surrender— The Execution of Deserters —A Pension for a Pin-Scratch. CAMP-FIRE III. The Maddest Man in the Army — A Regimental Foot Race — Effects of Excitement — “ Bress de Lor’.” CAMP-FIRE IV, Buttermilk Without Money, but not Without Price — Freaks undei Fire — “ Johnnies ” and M Yanka” atop Shooting to Shake hands — Sol- diers at the Fort Different from a Home Guards ” — Origin of “ Hold the Fort” CAMP-FIRE V. A Surprise for the Johnnies — With Banks up the Red River — Prison Life in Texas— Soldiers yet on Parole — Trouble Between the 13th and 19th Army Corps. CAMP-FIRE VI. “ Slap-Jacks ” — A Trip up the Tennessee — The Horrors of Valley Forge Repeated — Bullets and Etiquette — “Copper-Heads.” ix X CONTENTS* CAMP-FIRE VII. A Banquet to the S. P. U. H. — “ S. B.” — A Classical Exposition of the Term, and some Reminiscences for Illustration. CAMP-FIRE VIII. Libby Prison — The “Horned Yankee” — Andersonville, whose Sur- name is Death — A Modern Miracle — The Altar of Kleptomania Receives a Sacrifice of Seven. CAMP-FIRE IX. The Florence Prison — Homeward Bound — Pathetic Incidents. CAMP-FIRE X. War on the Water — Daring Deeds— How Many Regiments each Man Captured — Remarkable Escapes — The Biggest Liar in the War. CAMP-FIRE XI. Sutlers — Quartermasters — Mules — How Rich a Soldier must be to Buy Anything from a Sutler — The Profits in the Government Appoint- ment of Quartermaster on a Regular Salary — Eulogy on the Sutler and the Army Mule. CAMP-FIRE XII. Bushwhacking — What Circumstances do with Cases — A Jest on Gen. A. J. Smith — Foraging. CAMP-FIRE XIII. Battles Unsung by the Muse of History — Origin of the Stars and Stripes — Genealogy of George Washington, CAMP-FIRE XIV. A Rollicking Recruit — Love and War — The S. P. U. H. Sutler— 44 When Gabriel Blows his Trumpet in de Morning.” CAMP-FIRE XV. The Race for Columbia — “ To Amputate or not to Amputate?” CAMP-FIRE XVI. 44 Brazen Effrontery Corduroy Roads — Long John, the Darkey. CAMP-FIRE XVII. Lazy Jim’s Stratagem to Avoid Walking Back to Camp— “They got our Flag Anecdote of General Sherman. CONTENTS. xi CAMP-FIRE XVIII Many were Called, but One was Chosen— A Sad Occurrence — “Let the Dead and the Beautiful Rest.” CAMP-FIRE XIX. A Reminiscence of General Nelson — A Sham Battle Demolishes a Sutler’s Store. CAMP-FIRE XX. “When this Cruel War is over” — A Continuation of Camp-Fire XVIII. — A “ Muley ” Yoke of “ Muley ” Oxen. CAMP-FIRE XXI. The Grand Army of the Republic not a Political Organization — Its Principles: Fraternity, Charity, Loyalty — A Complete, Brief Record of its Organization and Growth to the Present Time. CAMP-FIRE XXII. A Romance of the War — A Story Strange but True — What an Insane Fisherman Caught. CAMP-FIRE XXIII. The Wrong Ox by the Horns — The Tables Turned on an Officer’s Strict Discipline — A Decision by Mansfield, General — Rivalry in Religion. CAMP-FIRE XXIV. Wrong Kind of a Cat — “ More About the Broken Window,” or Craw- ford Again. CAMP-FIRE XXV. A Raw Recruit’s Anxiety — Another Story about Another Mule — On the St. Francis River — A General Incog. Refused a Cup of Coffee — A Confederate’s Idea of what the Gospel is. CAMP-FIRE XXVI. The Sequel to the Farmer and the Watermelons — The Un-wisdom of a Raw Recruit — A Joke on the General — The Temperance Major — The Captain who didn’t Water his Whiskey. CAMP-FIRE XXVII. Home on a Furlough — A Premonition of Death — Hours of Peril. xii CONTENTS. CAMP-FIRE XXVIII. Dinnis M’Ginley as the Secretary of War” — Mart McCoy and the General— How the 1 5th Corps came by its Badge — The Romance that a Spent Ball Brought About — How Wheeler’s Cavalry got some Corn Meal — Sensations upon Seeing a Comrade Killed by a Bullet. CAMP-FIRE XXIX. The Truth about the Capture of the Guerilla Chieftain, John Morgan —Audacious Audacity — The Last Plank of the Ship of State. CAMP-FIRE XXX. A Mule Driver’s Peculiarities — Foragers — Major Collins’ Negro Bo y f Fraction — The Sad Story of an Unknown Michigan Soldier. CAMP-FIRE XXXI. “Desecrated” Vegetables — What they were and how they Cooked ’Em — Shaming the “ Biggest Liar.” CAMP-FIRE XXXII. Two of Mosby’s Men Personate Union Officers — A Successful Mili- tary Manoeuver — Character Maintained Notwithstanding the Demoral- izing Influences of Army Life. CAMP-FIRE XXXIII. Reminiscences of the Battle of Corinth — A Brave Boy in Gray — The Old Canteen. CAMP-FIRE XXXIV. The Last Camp-Fire — The End of the Season — The S. P. U. H ; Valedictory — A Hymn of Peace. CAMP FIRE XXXV. Rally Again ! — The Veterans Must Meet Together — How the G. A. R. Grows — A Third of a Million Comrades — Over One Hundred Thou- sand in Associate Societies — The Battles and Important Events of the War Arranged by Dates. CAMP-FIRE XXXVI. Events Preliminary to the Firing of Sumter — The Different Calls for Troops — Strength of the Army — Number of Soldiers From Each State. CONTENTS. xiii CAMP-FIRE XXXYII. Strength of the U. S. Army at Various Dates and at the Present Time — The Grand Army of the Republic — The Eighteenth National En- campment at Minneapolis, Minn. CAMP-FIRE XXXVIII. The Nineteenth National Encampment at Portland, Me, — Mother Bickerdyck — Mrs. Anna Wittenmyer — Fraternity, Charity and Loyalty in the Order. CAMP-FIRE XXXIX. The Battle of Gettysburg — The Trip to California — The Wonderful Scenery in Colorado — Reception of the G. A. R. at San Francisco — Business of the Encampment. CAMP-FIRE XL. Sacramento and Other Cities Honor the G. A. R. — The Ladies of the Grand Army of the Republic — The Woman’s Relief Corps — The Sons of Veterans — The Daughters of Veterans — The Nation’s Grateful Love for the Grand Army. ^IiiiiUST^AirioNs.-^ X X A Camp-fire Chat Frontispiece Knapsack 24 Cartridge Box 31 The Old Mill 35 “ Bress de Lor’ ” 41 Shell-gun 43 / Skirmish Line 49 Camp Ford, Texas 65 Haversack 72 “ Fall in for Grub ” 85 Bombs 91 Libby Prison * 97 Andersonville 107 Pontoon Bridge 137 Shot out of a Cannon 145 Redoubt 149 Foraging , 167 Shrapnel Shell 169 Charge of Cavalry 314 A Halt on the March 187 Corduroy Road.. 199 The Latest News 280 Battle of Lookout Mountain 269 The Morning Reveille 223 A Midnight March 329 G. A. R. Badge * 245 Gen. Lucius Fairchild 2 Gen. W. T. Sherman 346 Gen. John A. Logan 370 Battle of Gettysburg 381 The Royal Gorge 383 Gen. Walter S. Payne 403 xiv CAMP-FIRE CHATS INTRODUCTION. |E VER was there war or military conflict more prolific of incident than the Civil War of America. The explosion of a shell was frequently followed by the crack of a joke, and a bullet or a bayonet produced more fun than fear; yet neither were ever so close that they left no time for a prayer. The raging battle was never so intense that a dying comrade could not be given a drink of water; and no march was ever so long, nor fatigue so great, that a biscuit could not be divided with a messmate. Such was the sym- pathy which held the army with its common cord. But this is easily understood; for behind the war of mus- ketry was a war of mind. Each bullet and each bayonet was guided by a thought and an inspiration, whose constancy placed upon each fort and parapet an emblem of fraternity and liberty which put to shame the ancient banners of spolia- tion and conquest. Spartan bravery could not have coped with American courage in such a struggle; nor the ominious crescent of the Saracens have been more awe-inspiring, nor the cross of the Crusaders more worshipful, than the flag which quieted the trembling sovereignty of the western world. The history of this war has been written, the causes and results have been discussed, and the record made; but the nar- ration of personal adventure and observation can never fail to INTRODUCTION iS be of interest, and the tales, by those who survive, of the true bravery of America’s noblest sons, with their daring deeds and marvelous exploits, will ever remain in the hearts of the people, like the traditions of old, and become the fireside his- tory of a modern conflict between the brothers of a nation, in which both believed themselves in the right. And, indeed, it is here that we must look for the real his- tory and the exposition of the true character of a people in time of war. The movements, campaigns and statistics of armies may be chronicled, and in their cumbersome dryness be placed away among the archives of the nation ; but the veritable disposition of those who harbor the passion, the coolness, the love, the hate, the sympathy, the cruelty, the right, the wrong, — must ever be sought from individual sources. It is not possible to give every soldier’s experience through the entire war, but the incidents in this volume are taken from actual experiences. If the aim has been accomplished, a variety of information has been disclosed which will give to the gen- eral reader a picture of war and army life such as has never been presented to the people. Many books give a drawn-out list of battles as the history of our Civil War. The war was not in all a military con- flict; it was a complete revolution, in which the many customs and whole life of one people were changed, and as a result of which new energy thrilled another people. The war was not all battles nor all marches; but a stern struggle of com- bined intellectual and physical forces. Intelligence and reason pervaded rank and file; and while the sword was in its scabbard, between acts, discussion held sway. It was in this way that the revolutionary features were slowly wrought out, and this will be clear only when we have paused by many a camp-fire to witness the manifestations of a change in oul national character, as disclosed by the actors themselves. CAMP-FIRE I. THE S. P. U. H. — THE FIRST CAMP-FIRE THE CAMP OF INSTRUCTION THE FARMER AND THE WATERMELONS “HOW TEDIOUS AND TASTELESS THE HOURS” THE CLOSING SCENE. Society for the Preservation of Unpublished His- r, having been duly authorized and organized, with 1 of its members a living embodiment of all the accomplishments desirable in a minor historian, and each a commissioned and lawful emissary of the great Muse, went forth determined to prove the beneficence of its existence, by first gathering in and giving shelter to such facts and observa- tions in the history of the Civil War in America as had not felt the protecting hand of the “art preservative of all arts.” What the society lacked in numbers it made up in spirit, and if its physical shortcoming was marked, its Muse-ical devel- opment was proportionally great. One feature, however, was especially noticeable, and this was the unusually large ears of the members, which was only another evidence of their fitness for the work in hand. Aided by this abnormal development they would collect the dying accents of many an unwept hero ; and, moreover, in the modern school of ethics, an attentive ear is more to be admired than an oily tongue; yea, than a tongue doubly oiled. Likewise, they were well equipped in every appointment. But it must not be inferred from this that the members of the S. P. U. H. belong to the long-eared race of zoology, or that ( 3 ) *7 :8 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. all historians have long ears, or that the long-eared race are all historians, for such an inference would be historically in- correct, and far from the purpose of the fraternity. Enthusiastic over their worthy intention, the S. P. U. H. arrived at a post of the Grand Army of the Republic, imme- diately sought out the commander, and notified him that their great ears itched for stones of the war, and memoirs of army life. That eminent was astonished. Whether to consider the society a fraud or a humbug he did not know. Certainly it was not real, and yet the age of myths and miracles was past. “War!” said he; “I surrender. Your assault has found me unarmed. The attack is a complete surprise.” Twenty years of active business life had dispelled all mili- tary thoughts* In his efforts to recall his early life the gray- haired veteran was almost tranced. But the balm of assur- ance was administered, his soldierly instincts returned, and the commander invited the S. P. U. H. to be at the rendezvous when the sun’s rays should be succeeded by those from the camp-fire. They consented, and at the appointed time met the assem- bled veterans, who had been summoned into camp by the commander. After the fire burned well and threw its com- fort into the faces of those present, the historical hard-tack and coffee were served in the style a la i 86 i-’ 65 . When this was done the chief bade the soldiers be quiet, and thus ex- horted them: “Comrades — I have called you into camp this evening for special duty. We have present a representative of the Society for the Preservation of Unpublished History. The ears of this society itch for stories of our old camp-fires, marches, battles and crude experiences, and memories of our ancient valor. Let him among you who has the easiest tongue and best memory now speak. Whoever may give any curious CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. l 9 information about the many features of soldier life, or describe the manners and customs of the rank and file, the saddle, the battery or the gunboat, or give a strange adventure, or some point of history heretofore unrecorded, shall have his name and regiment written in the great book of the Muse, which the Society for the Preservation of Unpublished History has now in charge. If any of you have such incidents and obser- vations of unwritten history, let it now be divulged, or forever be cast into oblivion.” Thereupon the pipe of peace was passed around the camp- fire of plenty. When the 44 boys” were all settled, Rev. A. R. Thain, a private of the 96th Illinois Infantry, remembered an anecdote, and said: 44 1 think of one incident that occurred in our camp of in- struction at Rockford, 111., but, for the benefit of our visitors I will give what comes to my mind of our first experience in war, before I relate it. 44 Our country knew very little about war when the Civil War broke out, and the task of forming an army from raw recruits, many of whom had never seen a soldier, was great indeed. Our only consolation in those days was that our antagonists were in somewhat the same condition of igno- rance. And yet we did possess one advantage over them ; we knew that we were ignorant of the art of war, while many of them thought themselves thoroughly proficient. Each South- erner was ready to meet as many 4 Yankees’ as he had fin- gers and toes, doubtless imagining himself the eldest son of Mars. I remember reading the statement of one writer con- cerning the Confederate Army in its first organization; that 4 every man brought a colored servant with him to stand guard, or relieve his master of fatigue duty;’ that 4 every amateur officer had his own pet system of tactics, and the effect of the incongruous teachings, when brought out on battalion drill, closely resembled that of the music of Bob Sawyer’s party, 20 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. where each guest sang the chorus to the tune he knew best.’ “ But in the Union camps of instruction, all the boys who were there will remember how strictly the discipline was en- forced. The raw recruit was tied up so tightly with red tape that he could hardly stir without an order from headquarters. Every day he was ground between the upper and nether millstones of company and battalion drill, and between times was, perhaps, sifted and bolted by squad drill. His slow, care- less gait had to be transformed into a prompt marching step. His habit of executing all movements in easy curves must be corrected, his muscles must have a certain jumping-jack jerki- ness, his frame a ramrod uprightness, chest thrown back, eyes to the front, little fingers at the seams of the pants; must learn which was his left foot, and for some this was very diffi- cult, for I know one man who was sent home from the camp of instruction because he could not master the mysteries of 4 hay-foot, straw-foot.’ 44 But, perhaps, one of the most difficult things for the new ~oldier to appreciate and do, was the performance of guard duty — camp-guard in the home camp. It might do well enough in the daytime, to keep citizens out and soldiers in, and impress visitors with the pomp and pageantry of war; but at night, when the soldiers were sleeping on the soft side of a pine board and dreaming of the beds they had left behind them, what necessity was there, military or otherwise, for posting men all around the camp at intervals of ten or fifteen rods? 44 The camp of instruction at Rockford was bounded on one side by the Rock River, but I suppose if the camp had been on an island it would have been surrounded by guards, if for nothing else than to keep the river from creeping out of its bed, or the frogs from jumping across the guard line. At first, the men who stood camp guard adopted a somewhat novel, but certainly very noisy way of relieving the tedium of CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 21 the night watches. If Mr. Darwin had been present he might have said that it was a recurrence of ancient practices in the line of man’s descent, for each guard adopted the cry of some beast or bird, and made the night hideous with imi- tations. From Post No. io would come the crow of a cock; Post No. 12 would answer with the headlong, heels-over- head gobble of a turkey; Post No. 15 seemed to be held by a dog, and from Post No. 20 would come the stridulous hee- haw of a donkey. And this was practiced in many camps throughout the war. Close imitations were greeted with great applause. The most famous man in our line of bar- racks was a private in Company D, 96th Illinois, who could imitate the cry of a turkey so closely that the listener involun- tarily thought of Thanksgiving. The sequel showed, how- ever, that he could gobble better than he could fight. “ In the camp of instruction we also learned to forage. It was wrong, of course, to practice on friends, but the soldier’s stomach sometimes got the better of his conscience. One ludicrous incident occurred. A farmer came into camp with a load of watermelons, and a crowd of soldiers gathered around his wagon, as if eager to purchase his wet goods. One soldier selected a melon and began to bargain very earnestly for it, gradually drawing the farmer a few steps further away from the wagon. He told the farmer that he and his com- rades had left their ancestral melon-patches to go and fight the battles for the Union; that Uncle Sam did not pay them very liberal wages; that as yet they had received no pay, but that they were fond of melons, and he wanted to know what was the lowest price which he would take for the particular melon which he held in his hands. He argued very pathetically for a low price. Being patriotic, the farmer sold it for a few cents, and after some delay in making change, turned toward the wagon to supply the other customers. But sad to tell, his wagon was empty, and not a melon was in sight. Bringing 22 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. eatables into the locality was like pouring water on a sand heap. With a disgusted look, the farmer tried to get a last glimpse of one of his melons, at least, but it was in vain, and he mounted his wagon, remarking: 4 Guess I’d better git my wagon out o’ here pretty soon, or you’ll eat that.’ He left the camp soon after with an empty wagon, a flat pocket- book, and a rather low opinion of camp morals.” When Mr. Thain had finished, Mr. Wm. Tasker, Chaplain of an Illinois Infantry Regiment, began: 44 That reminds me of one that occurred in Northern Mis- souri, in a swamp called Mud Creek. It was the first guard for many of the boys after leaving the camp of instruction, and it was hard for some of them to accustom themselves to the loneliness of sentinel duty. It was especially hard for one young fellow, I remember, who had never been from home very much, and already began to be homesick. His post was in a thicket of undergrowth from which the large trees had been cut, and it was his first night on guard. It had been raining all the afternoon, and by eighf o’clock in the evening the usual catnp-life was hushed, and all was quiet. The night was very dark, and the rain still poured down — one of those dreary, drizzly, dismal times so unwelcome to a homesick soldier — in fact, the place and time could only be duplicated by the dreariness of a Missouri thicket on a rainy night. 44 The lad paced his weary beat to and fro, to and fro, all the evening. Nine o’clock came, and the stillness became op- pressive. Ten o’clock came; still nothing could be heard ex- cept the monotonous patter of the rain. Eleven o’clock; twelve o’clock; all was quiet. The sentinel walked up and down again. Then he sat down. Nothing would break the silence. He thought of home. Then a tear trickled down his cheek. To clear it away he began to sing: CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 2 3 ili How tedious and tasteless the hours When Jesus no longer I see; Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flowers Have all lost their sweetness to me.’ “Just then the officer of the guard, a gruff, irreverent speci- men, came around, heard the music, and thought to have a little sport. Creeping quietly up, he suddenly raised to his feet within a few steps of the startled soldier. The music ceased. “ ‘ Halt!’ the sentinel commanded. ‘ Who goes there?’ “ Placing his hands up to his mouth for a trumpet, the officer loudly whispered, ‘Jeff Dams! ' “‘Oh! I thought it was the Second Relief,’ said the soldier.” Then Mr. Svanson John Petersen, of De Grace’s Twenty- Pound Paragon Battery, Company H, First 111. Light Artil- lery of the United States of America Volunteers, arose. He began with his favorite tribute to Gen. W. T. Sherman, and was not alone in his admiration of the great chieftain; but the boys had heard his story before, and knew its length. The fire burned low, many of the soldiers had been doing fatigue duty during the day, some of them had mixed their coffee with a stronger beverage during the evening, and the major- ity longed for the bunk. Mr. Petersen continued: “ It vas de march vrom Savannah to Raleigh. De camp vas lade at night, und dere vas early rizing all de time. De vedder vas bad, und de boys discourage. Ven de boys vas discourage dey vould cuss de offisairs. Ve vas cussin’ Sher- man und de offisairs, ven ve vas riding along von day, because de war vas too long. Ve vas vith de third gun, und I vas de lead driver. De second driver he say to me, ‘Keep still,’ all at once. “Preddy zoon Sherman und his shtaff files along up de rear. Sherman says, c Vat’s de matter?’ IX CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 444 Ve are tired oud,’ ve zay. 44 Den Sherman vas very polite. De soldiers are von by his expression. He say : 4 Boys, it’s preddy zoon over. I know it’s hard, but a little longer ve’ll be home — ve are on our vay home!’ If he had been a captain he vould svear at us. It vas very.,. sad.” 44 Is that the end?” asked the Society for the Preservation of Unpublished History. 44 Veil, I haf anudder von,” said Mr. Petersen. 44 We will hear that another time,” said the society. On looking around it was discovered that there were a great many dry eyes in the audience after this sad story. In fact, all eyes were dry, and there emanated from the various breath- ing apparatuses sounds indicative of weariness. The god Morpheus had weighed their eyelids down; upon beholding which the society beckoned Mr. Petersen to be seated. In course of half an hour the soldiers began to leave camp, one at a time, each quietly departing after he shook off his drowsi- ness, and feeling too much victimized to arouse his fellow* slumberers. CAMP-FIRE II. HOW A BALKY HORSE DID NOT SURRENDER THE EXECU- TION OF DESERTERS A PENSION FOR A PIN-SCRATCH, HEN the veterans convened on the following even- ing, some one soberly alluded to the discourtesy of the previous meeting in withdrawing from the camp-fire so unceremoniously. With great humiliation the guilty each made a low bow, and assured the others that nothing but the best intention — which has excused far greater crimes — had possessed them ; that they had quietly withdrawn that they might leave their weary comrades to the full enjoyment of unbroken slumber. This explanation being accepted, Mr. Joseph Dewey, of the 7th Iowa Cavalry, Company C, said: “ Let me relate the glorious tradition of how a balky horse saved the life of Captain Bartlett. It was just before the capture of Memphis, and our boys were returning from a three-days’ raid. We had come in sight of what we thought were two regiments of Federal infantry, and wheeled about to join them. But when we were within a few rods of the supposed Federals, we suddenly discovered that they were about two thousand ‘Johnnies’ in blue coats. a Captain Bartlett had a very remarkable horse. He was a dark bay, bob-tail, straight neck, and short ears. This horse always held his head about twenty-nine degrees higher than the heads of his fellows, probably from his sense of pride. But with all his imperfections he was not blind. I have never known of a blind horse that was balky. Jehu — that was his *5 26 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. name — had two good I’s, one for intelligence, the other for indolence. However, he rarely used both at the same time. He would glance backward with the eye of intelligence to see what was going on in the rear, and then, all of a sudden, he could see nothing more except through the indolence eye. Yet withal, this noble animal was trustworthy — you could al- ways trust him to eat a peck of oats and call for more ; and he was equally reliable for standing still when there was too much weight on his back. “ Upon discovering the true character of the blue-coated infantry, the cavalry wheeled again, and were off. Jehu stopped. He had become tired of horse society. He desired solitude. The captain whipped and spurred, all to no pur- pose. Then the Confederates opened fire, and it began to be uncomfortable for Jehu, though no damage was done. Then another volley came, and Jehu at once concluded to join the enemy. To carry out this determination, he turned his head to the left, stiffened his neck, and darted off in a 2:40 gait, side-wise, to the right. This brought him into the midst of the enemy, who yelled to the captain: ‘Surrender! sur- render! You Yankee s — o — b — !’ ” [This military term may need some explanation. It origi- nated with the Confederates early in the war, and was an ap- pellation given to all soldiers of the Union Army, from what- ever point they hailed. In civil life it became shortened to “ Yankee sob” but here it is used in its strictest hostile sense.] “ But no surrender for Jehu. The enemy’s ranks parted and let him through, but the firing continued, and still was heard: “‘Surrender! surrender! you Yankees — o— b — !’ “ ‘ How in thunder can I surrender,’ answered the captain, still borne through the ranks on the back of the horse. 4 1 will if you’ll stop my horse.’ Several shots were fired, but strange to say, Jehu made good his escape without a scratch to himself or the captain, amidst great applause.” CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 2 7 Mr. H. P. Thompson, Orderly Sergeant of Company H, 49th New York, and later in charge of the provost guard, then asked if the S. P. U. H. would like to hear concerning the execution of two deserters. “ Yes,’’ said their representative; “give us a description of how deserters were executed.” “ Well, I remember what I am going to tell as well as if it happened only yesterday. The prominent part I bore in the sad affair fixed it indelibly on my mind. “ It was near Brandy Station, Va., on the 3d of December, 1863. Desertions were becoming too frequent, and some- thing had to be done to stop the disloyalty. Seventeen desert- ers had been tried and sentenced at this time; but fifteen were pardoned by the general proclamation of President Lincoln, pardoning all deserters who would return and take their places in the ranks. The two who were not pardoned were George Blowers, of Company A, 2d Vermont, and John Tague, Company A, 5th Vermont. There were a great many trials for desertion during the war, but deserters were seldom executed; they usually received a lighter sentence. The most general sentence was that the deserter should return to the army and serve out all of his original time of enlistment which had not been served, without pay or allowance. For instance, if a soldier who had enlisted for four years had deserted at the end of six months, he would be brought back when caught, and be compelled to serve three years and six months more. This was the penalty, except in flagrant cases. “ Some were sent to Dry Tortugas, which was almost equivalent to banishment. Dry Tortugas is a group of islands belonging to the United States, at the entrance of the Gulf of Mexico, 120 miles west southwest of Cape Sable, the southern extremity of Florida. The islands are very low and swampy, partly covered with mangrove 28 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. bushes, which is a species of tropical fruit resembling the paw paw and banana. It was a dismal place, and deserters were compelled to serve out a term of years with ball and chain, the same as other prisoners. “ Occasionally there was a man hung; but Tague and Blowers were to be shot. The provost marshal of the county or locality where they were caught had returned them, as was the custom, to their regiment, and drawn his bounty, which was a reward of $50 apiece (I believe), offered by the State in which they were found. “ The court-martial then tried and sentenced them, and they were placed in tents by themselves in charge of the pro- vost guard, which was chosen pro rata from the different regiments of a division. The guard in this instance was a detail of twenty men chosen from the regular provost guard. When a deserter was put under guard, two or three of these men would stand with loaded muskets around the tent of the deserter, being relieved every two hours. No soldier was ever made to stand guard over a deserter from his own com- pany or regiment, for, of course, it was always painful for one comrade to be compelled to enforce a severe law upon a fellow comrade, and possibly a schoolmate, or even a brother, and then there was danger of a plot to escape if an intimacy of this kind were allowed. So these two boys from Vermont were handed over to our regiment, the 49th New York. “ It was a beautiful morning. The sky was clear, the sun shone brightly, the air was soft and still, and two ambu- lances, containing rough wooden coffins, were brought up to the tents where the prisoners were under guard. Each soldier was then placed in an ambulance, on his coffin, and the retinue proceeded to the place of execution, about a mile from the headquarters of the guard. The ambulances were drawn this distance by the soldiers who were to do CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 3 9 the shooting. When they arrived at the chosen place, the division, composed of about ten thousand soldiers, was formed into a hollow square to witness the sad affair. A hollow square is a double line of soldiers on three sides of a square, fronting the fourth side, which is left open, as the objective point of operations. It was used on this occasion for an im- posing display, and to intimidate and prevent other soldiers present from committing a like crime. “ It was a scene full of awe, never to be forgotten by those who took part. All who witnessed it seemed to feel the solemn presence of death. When the coffins were placed in the open part of the square, John Tague attempted to be jovial by rapping in the bottom of his coffin and asking some of the boys if they could not put shavings or something in it, as it would be a pretty hard nest; but no applause greeted his remark, and it reacted upon him with solemn force. The adjutant general then stepped out into a position a little forward from the center of the square, and in a clear, but tremulous voice, read the finding of the court-martial to the troops. The guns used by the provost guard on occasions like this were always loaded by a person appointed for the pur- pose. It would not do to let soldiers load their own guns, as they would probably put in blank cartridges. The feeling of responsibility for a death was too intense in such cases. How- ever, one blank cartridge was always put into one of the guns, so that each of the men who did the shooting might suppose that he had the blank, and that his shot did not kill the prisoner. “When the adjutant finished reading, the guard was ordered forward, divided into two platoons of ten each, and the guns were handed to them. As I have said, I shall never forget this particular moment. I had charge of one of the platoons, and the orders were that the man having such charge should step up with a loaded musket and blow out the 3 <> CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. brains of the victim in case the volley discharged at him by the platoon failed to kill! I held my musket ready in my hand, and was to shoot John Tague. The other platoon was in charge of Sergeant Otis B. Hayes. He was a man of strong nerve and moral courage, but at this time he was as pale as death and as weak as a child; in fact, he could hardly stand. He was to end the life of George Blowers, if the ten shots from his platoon failed. “ While the finding of the court-martial was being read by the adjutant, the doomed men stood up. But they were now ordered to kneel on their coffins. A quarter-sheet of ordinary note paper — called by the boys a ; paper heart ’ — was then pinned on the coat of each victim, over his heart. When this was done, there was an awful silence. The doomed boys had not been blindfolded, and each countenance, though brave to the last, betrayed the solemn consciousness that within a minute more they would be within the pale of death. All was suspense. Clapping his hands to his heart, John Tague said, c Boys, shoot me here — make no mis- take!’ Then came the final order from the provost marshal: “ c Ready! Aim! Fire!’ “ Tague fell forward on his face and never breathed again; but Blowers was horribly mangled, and fell forward on his hands and knees, exclaiming : “ c Oh ! my God — my God ! ’ “ Sergeant Hayes trembled like an aspen. He was to end the poor fellow’s existence! He advanced toward the spot, while ten thousand soldiers held their hushed breath. But, to the relief of all, Blowers died before the Sergeant reached him ; and the troops formed company front, and marched in review past the coffins to view the bodies of their dead comrades.” “ That is true to the letter, and well given,” said Andrew W. B razee, late major of the 49th New York. u I was the CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 31 provost marshal who gave the order, 1 'and remember it well.” A general from Ohio, who had charge of a brigade, then gave this incident to illustrate the eagerness with which a certain element in our army sought redress from the govern- ment for injuries sustained, even before the pain of a hurt had subsided; in fact, an injury was hardly received before they began to weigh, in their minds, the amount of annuity to which they would be entitled. “ A Dutchman had been detailed as an orderly on duty at the general’s headquarters, and in an engagement was unfortu- nate enough to have the index and second finger of his right hand shot off. He was running to and fro across the battle field when he met the general, and, with tears rolling down his cheeks, he exclaimed, c Oh, Sheneral, Sheneral, shoost look at my hand.’ The general, after expressing sorrow and sym- pathy, was about to move on, when the man again turned his tearful face toward him, and, holding up his bleeding hand, in pitiful tones cried out: “ 4 Oh, Sheneral! Sheneral! how much pension I gets for him? Don’t you tink I would get two pensions, one for each finger what I lose?’ ” This story was considered a good one to close with, antf the second camp-fire was dismissed. CAMP-FIRE III. THE MADDEST MAN IN THE ARMY A REGIMENTAL FOOT RACE EFFECTS OF EXCITEMENT 44 BRESS DE LOR’.” OYS, do you recollect the race between our regiment and the 2d Iowa?’ said Mose Huntley, of the 52d Illinois. 44 Yes,” said Mr. Kessler, a First Lieutenant of one of the companies, 44 it was just before the battle of Corinth, and I remember about that time of seeing the maddest man I ever saw in my life. He belonged to our company, and was a fine soldier, patriotic and courageous, but impetuous. His name was Peterson, I believe, a strong, burly Swede. 44 The rebel Forrest had just made an audacious raid near us. Peterson could stand it to fight an honest soldier in the front, but when he thought of being hoodwinked. by a treach- erous guerilla, he almost tore his hair. We were ordered out immediately after Forrest, and pursued him all night. Just before daybreak we were passing through a low wooded land, and thought we heard the noise of the enemy in our ad- vance. Peterson broke into a run, thinking he would get a shot at 4 dem kersud gareelahs.’ But alas ! just as he started to run a vine tripped him, and he fell forward against a sapling of two or three years’ growth. His rage was un- controllable. Swearing a chain of oaths, and clenching his musket with a death-grip, he slashed away at the sapling with the butt end, breaking the stock and ruining the barrel. But this was not enough. He grappled with the enemy, gnawed, kicked and twisted until he tore the tree up by the roots and flung it away.” 3 3 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 3d “ Ehic! ’nuther vict’ry fur United States arms,” said Boozy Dick, who was intoxicated to a stupefying degree. 44 Well, Mr. Huntley, will you not give us the race now?” said the Society for the Preservation of Unpublished History? when Boozy Dick again essayed to exhort: < 4 Yes, let ’em go, Mose! I’ll bet on the — on the. — hie! — ” 44 The Sergeant-at-arms will please assist the sick veteran to retire,” ordered the commander, and accordingly Dick was taken to the guard-house. Mose Huntley then proceeded : 46 Well, as I said at starting out, it was between our regi- ment (the 52d Illinois) and the 2d Iowa, but Kessler stopped me — ” 44 1 beg your pardon, Comrade Huntley,” said Mr. Kessler* 44 My pardon is beggable,” replied Mose, and continued: 44 It was about two weeks before the battle of Corinth. We were out on a forage, and came to an old out-of-the-way house, about which weeds and bushes had grown. We heard a noise in the house and found six Rebs with one Yankee prisoner, whom they were trying to convert. 44 4 Humph!’ said the Yankee, 4 I’ll never join your crowd as long as the United States has a flag and an army. You darned nigger-keepin’ traitors ought to be ashamed to fight against such a flag as mine. If I was loose, I’d hang the whole lot of you!’ The prisoner had looked through a crack and seen our boys coming, and it made him sort o’ brave. ‘If I wanted to I could call twelve legions to my help.’ 44 4 Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed the rebs. 4 Why don’t you do it? Do it — call ’em.’ 44 4 Well, I will call a few of ’em — come on, boys,’ said the Yank, and just then our boys broke through the door and took the whole six prisoners. 44 We tore everything up, and finally found a barrel of whiskey and one of black -strap.” 3 35- CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. [ M Black-strap” is a kind of syrup unskilfully made from frost-bitten sugar-cane. It resembles a mixture of coal-tar, glucose and stale soda water. Sometimes it was mixed with whiskey, and swallowed with much relish by soldiers whose stomachs must have been lined with something like cast-iron. This chemical analysis has been obtained at great expense by the S. P. U. H., and is known to be correct.] 44 Near by was an old mill,” continued Mr. Huntley, u and strange to say, several bushels of wheat in a bin. We took some o’ the wheat and put it in the hopper, and some of the boys would grind while the others watched. We ground about a bushel before the wheels got hot, and then they began to screech. We had nothing but cotton-seed oil, and that gummed so that it was no use to put it on. We ground about six bushels, when the old rattle-trap stopped short, never to go again! Squee-squawk, squee-squawk — you could hear it for twenty-five miles!” “ Aw! come down a peg,” said one of the boys. 44 Well, you could hear it for five miles — I’ll swear it,” said Mose. 44 Then we took the bran, whiskey, and black-strap, and started for camp. W e did not open either of the barrels, as we thought we would save it all and have a good time with the whole regiment that night. But alas! General Oglesby confiscated our entire stock. He told the teamster to drive the ambulance up to his tent and sleep on those bar- rels that night. The general was all right in this, because he had just chased the Rebel general, Rowdy, off fifty miles that day, and expected him back that night. He ordered the brigade to lie on their arms in line, for an emergency. 44 We wrapped ourselves in our blankets and lay down — but not to sleep. The news of the whiskey had been circu- lated among the boys, and made ’em restless. They rolled up in their blankets and began to * spoon ! 5 55 raw crio 36 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 44 What is ‘spooning’?” asked the Society for the Pres- ervation of Unpublished History. 44 4 Spoonin,’ my dear children,” explained a veteran in the art, 44 is when soldiers wrap up in their blankets and roll back’ards and for’ards over one ’nother for fun. It is done when they have too much 4 budge ’ aboard. But this time they were only anticipatin’, and sort o’ goin’ through the motions like. They hadn r t had anythin’ to drink, an’ so it was purty dry spoonin’. 44 It was io o’clock and the Rebel general, Rowdy ? hadn’t come yet. The boys didn’t like the idea o’ being cheated out of their 4 regular,’ and so they ’pointed a com- mission to look after them barrels of General Oglesby’s. The commission crawled up quietly to the wagon, and enough of the boys formed a line on their knees to pass the canteens back from the wagon to the bivouac, so that no noise would be made. It was not long before the commis- sion got an auger an’ commenced to bore through the bot- tom of the wagon up into the barrels. The first barrel they bored into was the black-strap, but they plugged that up, and it did not take long to get the whiskey out of the other one. The canteens were passed back, and the boys had a good old ‘spoon,’ never waking the driver, who slept on the barrels. 44 In the morning the officers thought they would sample the whiskey, and sent to the wagon for some. But of course the boys had emptied the barrel, and when it was reported to General Oglesby, he came out, called the boys together, and asked : 44 4 Who in (Hades) stole that whiskey? ’ 44 4 The 2d and 7th Iowa!’ said our boys. 44 4 No, sir! the 52d Illinois,’ said the Iowa boys. U just then General Sweeney (then our Colonel) came out, and he looked awfully dry and disappointed. 4 Who stole that whiskey? ’ he inquired. CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 37 “ ‘ The 2d and 7th Iowa ! ’ we answered, and the Iowa boys again said we did it. “‘By the powers! I’ll arrest every one of you,’ said Sweeney. “ But he didn’t. When it comes to arrestin’ two or three regiments o’ soldiers, it’s not easily done. Then we were sud- denly ordered to Corinth on double-quick, to resist an attack by the Johnnies. The sun was hot, and the air sultry. The march was heavy, and we double-quicked it every step. As we proceeded, some of the boys became so worn-out that they dropped out, and lay down on the roadside. Some were sunstruck, and many were disabled for life, who are drawing pensions now for that very march. Before we got to Corinth, it was told among the boys that General Weaver (then Colonel of the 2d Iowa) had bet General Sweeney $500 that the 2d Iowa could beat the 52d Illinois to Corinth. This nerved the boys up, and the ranks kept thinning out. I think there were some deaths reported from fatigue. When we got to Corinth in the evening there were only sixteen of our company to report — the rest had dropped on the way. Our company was the first to get in, but I never wanted any more races in mine. “ There were no rebels there, nor any signs of any. The boys said the race was on account of the bet, but I thought it was to punish us for stealing the whiskey.” “All that might have been avoided,” said Capt. J. M. Shields, of Company F, 77th Illinois, “but let me remind you of something that could not have been avoided — a curious result which was the experience of almost every soldier in the war, and shows how various are the effects of excitement under fire, upon different temperaments. “We were ordered to the extreme right in the battle of Chickasaw Bluffs, which placed us on the bank of the Mis- sissippi. It was necessary to skirmish our way along, and 38 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. before we arrived there, serious trouble occurred. We had never been in an engagement, and none of us knew whether we could stand fire or not. Troops could never be de- pended upon the first time, though they generally came through all right. “ Our way was through a wooded country, and as usual in skirmishing, the orders were for every fellow to look out for himself. We pushed on in our irregular line for several hundred yards, the boys becoming more and more scattered. They realized now, for the first time in their lives that they were to be shot at. Some were eager and almost rash in their recklessness to push forward and get a shot at the rebs. At times they would be so far in advance that they would have to be ordered back. Others advanced in mortal fear, though they were patriotic and sincere enough, and made good soldiers afterward. But the terror and excitement that seized numbers of them, made them almost powerless to act, for they would lose all control of their nerves, and it is a sin- gular but well-established fact, that under such circumstances the bowels are the first portion of the human system to feel this prostration of the nerves.” Hundreds of soldiers in our civil war became deathly sick under their first fire, though through no cowardice of their own. “ As we went on, the woods became thicker, and the fir- ing sharper. The excitement grew greater, and then the trouble began. Fully five hundred of our regiment were seized with the complaint, and affairs grew serious indeed. Among them was one poor fellow whom I shall never for- get. He had kept well to the rear all along, but I cheered him up, pushed him ahead, and managed to keep him in the company. “ Presently we came out in a turnip patch, and when we were well in view, the rebs poured a volley into us. This CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 39 was the climax. The bullets rattled and stirred the dust about our feet, yet no one was hurt. But the panic was upon us, and it was not possible to hold the weakest. One or two of the boys rushed forward and gained the shelter of a fence beyond, but the rest rapidly retreated. “ I went back with the company, and in the rear found the young man I had aided. He was lying on the ground, deathly pale, writhing in supposed pain, and was so weak that he could not stand. I ordered him to get up and advance immediately, knowing that with one strong effort he would regain his courage. But he was in a sad state, and with his arms tightly pressed about his stomach, he pleaded : c Oh! my God, my God! captain, do, do let me stop here. Oh! I am so sick — oh! — oh!’ “ I could only pity the poor boy, and so I let him remain until he recovered. Yet he was only one of many who passed through the same experience, and afterward became the most courageous soldiers.” The 7th Iowa was then glorified in this manner by Mr. William F. Montgomery: “When Sherman reached Columbia, S. C., 300 Union officers were imprisoned there. These were liberated and the city was fired. But before this the prisoners were slurred with all kinds of foul insults. Nothing seemed too base for the home-guards and women to utter. They were worse than the women of New Orleans before Butler’s ‘Woman Order.’ “ But there was one consolation, even though it came in the form of ebonized humanity. Every insult thrown at the Union prisoners only increased the enthusiasm of the negroes. Multitudes of negro women and children always hung about the army, and hailed the Union soldiers as their deliverers. They meant well enough, but their sympathy was generally carried to excess, and they became almost a general nuisance, 4 ° CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. especially the ignorant and superstitious field hands. It was a strain on moral courage to endure the majority of the negroes who worked about the houses, but these were infinitely more decent than the field hands. “ In our company was a little wiry, sawed-off man, who hated a negro worse than a snake. When the boys wanted a little sport they would call on Tom to C cuss the niggers,’ and he invariably responded. He repeatedly declared that, c if the niggers is emancipated I’ll leave the army.’ But he didn’t leave. He staid right along until the climax was reached at Columbia. As we marched up, the negroes swarmed out on all sides to meet us. Among them was an old field hand, a big, stout wench, who would weigh over 400 pounds avoir- dupois. Her cheeks hung down, and so did her lower lip, which was something near an inch in thickness, and her hair seemed like the tail of a horse that had been feeding in a cockle-burr field, except that it had the hereditary kink not found in horse-hair. “ The excitement among the negroes grew greater and more intense, and their eyes protruded far beyond their usual limit, as the army came near. They sang, and danced, and shouted. The big woman was especially wild. She raised her arms, snorted like an elephant, and started straight for me. I had been in twenty-two hard-fought battles; had heard the bullets sing past my ears, and shells over my head; many a time had faced death in a thousand forms, and was in the present emergency well armed; but for once in my life I beat a hasty retreat. The old negress gained on me, and I was almost within her reach, the ranks ringing with applause, when I stepped behind the wiry little nigger-hater, and the negress wrapped her great arms around him, lifting him off his feet, and shouting: “‘Bress de Lor’! Bress de Lor’! Yooz de ones we’s bin prayin’ faw dese foyeahs! Lor’ bress ye, honey! I lub * KRESS DE LOR’ 4 2 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. ye — I lub ye! Hm — hm — and she squeezed the little wiry man the tighter, while the boys cheered louder than ever.'* Some of the veterans present remembered the incident, and together with the Society for the Preservation of Unpub- lished History, they re-echoed the applause of twenty years ago. When the auditors were quiet again, the commander said that a drum corps from the Freedmen’s Exodus Society would like to favor the camp-fire with an attack. The camp- fire submitted, and the drum corps filed in. Unfortunately, however, the man who tuned the drums had died soon after the war, and the position which he vacated had been unfilled up to date, so that the instruments were somewhat out of repair, and somewhat more out of tune. Then the stifled ether was stirred with rut-tut-tut, bum-bum ! rut-tut-tut, bum-bum! and it was thought, from the most scientific musical analysis, that the drum corps had started out on the appropriate tune of “ Ain’t I glad I’m out of the Wilderness,” - — an old edition, perhaps, revised and enlarged, with varia- tions and side-notes complete, rearranged especially for the drum corps of the Freedmen’s Exodus Society. The drum- mers warmed up to their performance, and the melody be- came more intense. After they had played a short time there began to be a remarkable prevalence of headache, and then the audience began to ache all over. The commander was petitioned for mercy. The tenor became louder and shriller^ the bass deeper and heavier. The commander then deliber- ately but loudly ordered the music to face about and halt. But no command could be heard amidst “the clash of arms.” Each burly son of Ham had now closed his eyes and nerved himself for the first grand crescendo. The result was inevit- able. If the soldiers waited for the climax they would all be placed on the pension-list for broken ear-drums. There was CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 43 only one way out of the difficulty — that was past the guard. That individual, they found, had already fled, and the whole camp soon stampeded after him. When the drummers opened their eyes, after they had finished their selection, they looked about them, found nothing but darkness, and probablv ad- journed. CAMP-FIRE IV. BUTTERMILK WITHOUT MONEY, BUT NOT WITHOUT PRICE FREAKS UNDER FIRE “ JOHNNIES” AND “ YANKS STOP SHOOTING TO SHAKE HANDS SOLDIERS AT THE FRONT DIFFERENT FROM “ HOME-GUARDS ” SOUTHERN NEWSPAPERS — ORIGIN OF “ HOLD THE FORT.” S LL the veterans answered at roll-call this evening, as did all the visiting brethren — including the S. P. U. H. — except the drum corps of the Freedmen’s Exodus So- ciety. No one asked any question, not caring even to call to mind the experience of the previous evening. Mr. John G. Morrison began to speak: “In the fall of 1863, our Regiment (the 101st 111 .) was transferred from West Tennessee to Bridgeport, Ala., and at- tached to the nth Army Corps. Supplies for the army at Chattanooga were at that time carried on mules from Bridge- port by a circuitous route along the north bank of the Ten- nessee River. To open up a shorter and better route, the nth and 1 2th Army Corps, not then reorganized into the 20th, were ordered to march across to Chattanooga. “ On the second day’s march a discussion arose in Com- pany D, as to which army then occupied Lookout Mountain. One man stoutly maintained that Rosecrans did not lose at Chickamauga, and to settle the matter, one of D’s men broke ranks and ran up to a house, and politely asked a lady who was standing in the door, and trying to feel that she wasn’t subdued and never would be, whether there were any Confed- erates on Lookout Mountain. She replied very tartly that when he came back he might tell her. “ The midnight fight in the valley, the battles of Mission 44 CAMP-FIRE CHATS OF THE CIVIL WA3, 45 Ridge and Lookout Mountain were soon fought, and after the terrible mid-winter march to the relief of Knoxville, and a rest at Kelley’s Ferry, our regiment marched back over the same road through the valley, to Bridgeport. We had all of us forgotten the woman and her evasive answer, except the soldier who questioned her. As we passed the house, he again left the ranks and went up to the house, taking another com- rade and half a dozen canteens with him. “ ‘ Madam,’ he said, making his best bow, ‘ I am going back now, and stopped to tell you that there is not a single Confederate on the mountain.’ “‘Clar out!’ said the woman. “‘Well, madam, I saw some very nice buttermilk when I was here before, and I thought I would bring my canteen along and have it filled.’