A talk of peace began once more, but the men of the South were determined to yield nothing as long as a rifle could be raised. Nothing but their unrestricted independence would satisfy them. The man who could call nothing his own but what was on his back was as much determined on his country's independence as those who were the possessors of broad acres and scores of negroes.

Congressman Boyce, of South Carolina, began to call for a peace conference in the Confederate Congress. Montgomery Blair, the father of General Frank P. Blair, then commanding a corps in Sherman's Army, begged the North to halt and listen to reason—to stop the fratricidal war. Generals, soldiers, statesmen, and civilians all felt that it had gone on long enough. Some held a faint hope that peace could be secured without further effusion of blood. A peace conference was called at Hampton Roads, near the mouth of the Potomac. President Lincoln and Secretary of State William H. Seward, on the part of the North, and Vice-President Stephens, Honorable R.T.M. Hunter, and Judge Campbell, on the part of the South, attended. Lincoln demanded an "unconditional surrender" of the army—emancipation of the slaves and a return to our former places in the Union. Mr. Stephens and his colleagues knew too well the sentiment of the Southern people to even discuss such a course. Not a soldier in ranks would have dared to return and face the women of the South with such a peace and on such terms as long as there was the shadow of an organized army in the field.

General Ord, of the Union Army, a humane and Christian gentleman, wrote and sought an interview with General Longstreet. He wished that General to use his influence with General Lee and the officers of the army to meet General Grant, and with their wives mingling with the wives of the respective Generals, talk over the matter in a friendly manner, and see if some plan could not be framed whereby peace could be secured honorable to all parties. All had had glory enough and blood sufficient had been shed to gratify the most savage and fanatical. These officers or the most of them had been old school-mates at West Point, had been brother officers in the old army, their wives had mingled in pleasant, social intercourse at the army posts, and they could aid as only women can aid, in a friendly way, to bring back an era of good feelings. General Ord further intimated that President Lincoln would not turn a deaf ear to a reasonable proposition for compensation for the slaves. General Longstreet accepted the overtures with good grace, but with a dignity fitting his position. He could not, while in the field and in the face of the enemy, with his superior present, enter into negotiations for a surrender of his army, or to listen to terms of peace. He returned and counseled Lee. Urged him to meet Grant, and as commander-in-chief of all the armies in the South, that he had a wide latitude, that the people were looking to him to end the war, and would be satisfied with any concessions he would recommend. That the politicians had had their say, now let the soldiers terminate the strife which politicians had begun. That Napoleon while in Italy, against all precedent and without the knowledge of the civil department, had entered into negotiations with the enemy, made peace, and while distasteful to the authorities, they were too polite to refuse the terms. But General Lee was too much a soldier to consider any act outside of his special prerogatives. He, however, was pleased with the idea, and wrote General Grant, asking an interview looking towards negotiations of peace. But General Grant, from his high ideals of the duty and dignity of a soldier, refused, claiming that the prerogatives of peace or war were left with the civil, not the military arm of the service. So it all ended in smoke.

General Lee began making preparations to make still greater efforts and greater sacrifices. He had been hampered, as well as many others of our great commanders, by the quixotic and blundering interference of the authorities at Richmond, and had become accustomed to it. There can be no question at this late day that the end, as it did come, had long since dawned upon the great mind of Lee, and it must have been with bitterness that he was forced to sacrifice so many brave and patriotic men for a shadow, while the substance could never be reached. His only duty now was to prolong the struggle and sacrifice as few men as possible.

General Bragg, that star of ill omen to the Confederacy, was taken out of the War Department in Richmond and sent to Wilmington, N.C., and that brilliant, gallant Kentuckian, General John C. Breckenridge, was placed in his stead as Secretary of War. General Breckenridge had been the favorite of a great portion of the Southern people in their choice of Presidential candidates against Lincoln, and his place in the cabinet of Mr. Davis gave hope and confidence to the entire South.

General Lee, no doubt acting on his own good judgment, and to the greatest delight of the army, placed General Joseph E. Johnston at the head of the few scattered and disorganized bands that were following on the flanks of Sherman. Some few troops that could be spared from the trenches were to be sent to South Carolina to swell, as far as possible, the army to oppose Sherman.

Governor Brown had called out a great part of the Georgia State Troops, consisting of old men and boys, to the relief of General Hardee, who was moving in the front of Sherman, and a great many of this number crossed over with General Hardee to the eastern side of the Savannah, and remained faithful to the end. Governor McGrath, of South Carolina, too, had called out every man capable of bearing arms from fifteen to sixty, and placed them by regiments under Beauregard and Johnston. The forts along the coast in great numbers were abandoned, and the troops thus gathered together did excellent service. North Carolina brought forward her reserves as the enemy neared her border, all determined to unite in a mighty effort to drive back this ruthless invader.

In this imperfect history of the times of which I write, I cannot resist at this place to render a deserved tribute to the noble women of the South, more especially of South Carolina. It was with difficulty that the soldiers going to the army from their homes after the expiration of their furloughs, or going to their homes when wounded or sick, procured a night's lodging in Richmond, for it must be remembered that that city was already crowded with civilians, officers of the department, surgeons of the hospitals, and officials of every kind. The hotels and private residences were always full. Scarcely a private house of any pretentions whatever, that did not have some sick or wounded soldier partaking of the hospitalities of the citizens, who could better care for the patient than could be had in hospitals. Then, again, the entire army had to pass through the city either going to or from home, and the railroad facilities and the crowded conditions of both freight and passenger cars rendered it almost obligatory on the soldiers to remain in the city over night. And it must be remembered, too, that the homes of hundreds and thousands of soldiers from Tennessee, Maryland, Kentucky, Mississippi, and all from the Trans-Mississippi were in the hands of the enemy, and the soldiers were forbidden the pleasure of returning home, unless clandestinely. In that case they ran the risk of being shot by some bushwhacker or "stay outs," who avoided the conscript officer on one side and recruiting officer on the other. In these border States there was a perpetual feud between these bushwhackers and the soldiers. It was almost invariably the case that where these "lay outs" or "hide outs" congregated, they sympathized with the North, otherwise they would be in the ranks of the Confederacy. Then, again, Richmond had been changed in a day from the capital of a commonwealth to the capital of a nation. So it was always crowded and little or no accommodation for the private soldier, and even if he could get quarters at a hotel his depleted purse was in such condition that he could not afford the expense. Nor was he willing to give a month's wages for a night's lodging. A night's lodging cost five dollars for supper, five for breakfast, and five for a bed, and if the soldiers were any ways bibulously inclined and wished an "eye opener" in the morning or a "night cap" at supper time, that was five dollars additional for each drink. Under such circumstances the ladies of South Carolina, by private contributions alone, rented the old "Exchange Hotel" and furnished it from their own means or private resources. They kept also a store room where they kept socks for the soldiers, knit by the hands of the young ladies of the State; blankets, shirts, and under clothing, from the cloth spun, woven, and made up by the ladies at home and shipped to Richmond to Colonel McMaster and a staff of the purest and best women of the land. Only such work as washing and scrubbing was done by negro servants, all the other was done by the ladies themselves. Too much praise cannot be given to Colonel McMaster for his indefatigable exertions, his tireless rounds of duty, to make the soldiers comfortable. The ladies were never too tired, night nor day, to go to the aid of the hungry and broken down soldiers. Hundreds and thousands were fed and lodged without money and without price. Car loads of the little comforts and necessities of life were shared out to the passing soldiers whenever their wants required it. Never a day or night passed without soldiers being entertained or clothing distributed. One night only was as long as a soldier was allowed to enjoy their hospitality, unless in cases of emergency. The officers of the army, whenever able, were required to pay a nominal sum for lodging. Better beds and conveniences were furnished them, but if they were willing to take private's "fare," they paid private's "fee," which was gratuitous. As a general rule, however, the officers kept apart from the men, for the officer who pushed himself in the private's quarters was looked upon as penurious and mean. It was only in times of the greatest necessity that a Southern officer wished to appear thus. If the Southern soldier was poor, he was always proud. This hotel was called the "South Carolina Soldiers' Home," and most of the other States inside the lines had similar institutions. In every home throughout the whole South could be heard the old "hand spinning wheel" humming away until far in the night, as the dusky damsel danced backwards and forwards, keeping step to the music of her own voice and the hum of the wheel. The old women sat in the corners and carded away with the hand-card, making great heaps of rolls, to be laid carefully and evenly upon the floor or the wheel. Great chunks of pine, called "lite'ood," were regularly thrown into the great fire place until the whole scene was lit up as by an incandescent lamp. What happiness, what bliss, and how light the toil, when it was known that the goods woven were to warm and comfort young "massa" in the army. The ladies of the "big house" were not idle while these scenes of activity were going on at the "quarter." Broaches were reeled into "hanks" of "six cuts" each, to be "sized," "warped," and made ready for the loom. Then the little "treadle wheel" that turned with a pedal made baskets of spools for the "filling." By an ingenious method, known only to the regularly initiated Southern housewife, the thread was put upon the loom, and then the music of the weaver's beam went merrily along with its monotonous "bang," "bang," as yard after yard of beautiful jeans, linsey, or homespuns of every kind were turned out to clothe the soldier boys, whose government was without the means or opportunity to furnish them. Does it look possible at this late day that almost the entire Southern Army was clothed by cloth carded, spun, and woven by hand, and mostly by the white ladies of the South?

Hats and caps were made at home from the colored jeans. Beautiful hats were made out of straw, and so adapt had the makers become in utilizing home commodities, that ladies' hats were made out of wheat, oat, and rice straw. Splendid and serviceable house shoes were made from the products of the loom, the cobbler only putting on the soles. Good, warm, and tidy gloves were knit for the soldier from their home-raised fleece and with a single bone from the turkey wing. While the soldiers may have, at times, suffered for shoes and provisions, still they were fairly well clothed by the industry and patriotism of the women, and for blankets, the finest of beds were stripped to be sent voluntarily to the camps and army. As for tents, we had no need to manufacture them, for they were invariably captured from the enemy. Think of going through an army of sixty or seventy thousand men, all comfortably housed, and all through capture upon the battlefield. As for cooking utensils, nothing more nor better were wanted by the soldiers than a tin cup and frying-pan.

Salt was an article of great scarcity in the South. Coming over from Liverpool in ante bellum times as ballast, made it so cheap that little attention was given to the salt industry, and most of our best salt mines were in the hands of the enemy. But the Southern people were equal to any emergency. Men were put along the sea coast and erected great vats into which was put the salt sea water, and by a system of evaporation nice, fine salt was made. Farmers, too, that had the old-time "smoke" or meat houses with dirt floors, dug up the earth in the house and filtered water through it, getting a dark, salty brine, which answered exceedingly well the purpose of curing their meats.

All taxes, as I said before, were paid in "kind," and the tenth of all the meat raised at home was sent to the army, and with the few cattle they could gather, was sufficient to feed the troops. There were no skulking spirits among the people. They gave as willingly and cheerfully now as they did at the opening of the war. The people were honest in their dealings with the government, and as cheerful in their gifts to the cause as the Israelites of old in their "free will offerings" to the Lord. There were no drones among them, no secretion or dishonest division. The widows, with houses filled with orphans, gave of their scanty crops and hard labor as freely as those who owned large plantations and scores of slaves. In fact, it was noticeable that the poorer class were more patriotic and more cheerful givers, if such could be possible, than the wealthy class.

Negroes were drafted to go upon the coast to work in salt mills or to work upon the fortifications. This duty they performed with remarkable willingness, until, perhaps, some Federal gunboat got their range and dropped a few shells among them. Then no persuasion nor threat could induce them to remain, and numbers of them would strike out for home and often get lost and wander for days, half starved, through the swamps of the lower country, being afraid to show themselves to the whites for fear of being "taken up" and sent back. Many were the adventures and hair-breath escapes these dusty fugitives had, and could tell them in wonderful yarns to the younger generation at home. It may be that the negro, under mental excitement, or stimulated with strong drink, could be induced to show remarkable traits of bravery, but to take him cool and away from any excitement, he is slow at exposing himself to bodily dangers, and will never make a soldier in the field.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XL

Opening of 1865—Gloomy Outlook—Prison Pens—Return to South Carolina of Kershaw's Brigade.

The opening of the year 1865 looked gloomy enough for the cause of the Confederacy. The hopes of foreign intervention had long since been looked upon as an ignis fatuus and a delusion, while our maritime power had been swept from the seas. All the ports, with the exception of Charleston, S.C., and Wilmington, N.C., were now in the hands of the Federals. Fort Fisher, the Gibraltar of the South, that guarded the inlet of Cape Fear River, was taken by land and naval forces, under General Terry and Admiral Porter. Forts Sumter and Moultrie, at the Charleston Harbor, continued to hold out for a while longer. The year before the "Alabama," an ironclad of the Confederates, was sunk off the coast of France. Then followed the "Albemarle" and the "Florida." The ram "Tennessee" had to strike her colors on the 5th of August, in Mobile Bay. Then all the forts that protected the bay were either blown up or evacuated, leaving the Entrance to Mobile Bay open to the fleet of the Federals.

Sherman was recuperating his army around Savannah, and was preparing a farther advance now northward after his successful march to the sea. At Savannah he was met by a formidable fleet of ironclads and men of war, which were to accompany him by sailing along the coast in every direction. These were to form a junction with another army at Newburn, N.C.

Another matter that caused the South to despond of any other solution of the war than the bloody end that soon followed, was the re-election of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States. The South felt that as long as he was at the head of the nation nothing but an unconditional surrender of our armies and the emancipation of the slaves would suffice this great emancipator. To this the South could not nor would not accede as long as there were rifles in the field and men to wield them. A great problem now presented itself to the Confederate authorities for solution, but who could cut the Gordion knot? The South had taken during the war two hundred and seventy thousand prisoners, as against two hundred and twenty-two thousand taken by the Federals, leaving in excess to the credit of the South near fifty thousand. For a time several feeble attempts had been made for an equitable exchange of prisoners, but this did not suit the policy of the North. Men at the North were no object, and to guard this great swarm of prisoners in the South it took an army out of the field, and the great number of Southern soldiers in Northern prisons took quite another army from the service. In addition to the difficulty of supplying our own army and people with the necessities of life, we were put to the strain of feeding one hundred thousand or more of Federal prisoners. Every inducement was offered the North to grant some cortel of exchange or some method agreed upon to alienate the sufferings of these unfortunates confined in the prison pens in the North and South. The North was offered the privilege of feeding and clothing their own prisoners, to furnish medical aid and assistance to their sick. But this was rejected in the face of the overwhelming sentiments of the fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers of those who were suffering and dying like flies in the Southern pens. Thousands and thousands of petitions were circulated, with strings of signatures from all classes in the Union, urging Congress to come in some way to the relief of their people. But a deaf ear was turned to all entreaties, this being a war measure, and no suffering could be too great when the good of the service required it. Taking it from a military point of view, this was the better policy, shocking as it was to humanity.

At one time it was considered in the Confederate Congress the propriety of turning loose and sending home as early as practicable these thousands of prisoners, trusting alone to their honor the observance of the parole. It was thought by the majority that the indiscriminate mingling and mixing of these fanatical agitators with the peaceable slaves in the country might incite insurrection and a bloody social war break out should the prisoners be released at the prison pens. Under all the varying circumstances the South was still busily engaged in mobilizing these prisoners in certain quarters, to protect them as far as possible from liberation by raiding parties. At Andersonville, Ga., there were twenty-two thousand; at Florence, S.C., two thousand; Salisbury, N.C., ten thousand; several hundred in Columbia, and detached numbers scattered along at various points on the railroads, at such places where convenient quarters could be secured and properly guarded. Quite a large number were at Bell Isle, on the James River, as well as at the Liby Prison, in Richmond. These prisoners were sometimes guarded by the State militia and disabled veterans. Those at Florence were guarded by boy companies, under command of Colonel Williams, the former commander of the Third South Carolina. The stockades, as the prison pens were called, consisted of tall pine trees set into the ground some six or eight feet, standing upright and adjoining. The space thus enclosed covered several acres or as much more as there were prisoners or troops to guard them. The stockade fence was about fifteen feet above the level of the ground, with a walk way three feet from the top, on which the guards watched. There was a "dead line" some fifteen or twenty paces from the inside of the wall, over which no prisoner was allowed to cross, on penalty of being shot. And to prevent any collusion between the prisoners and the guard, none were permitted to speak to the sentinels under any circumstances. To better carry out these orders, the soldier Who detected a prisoner speaking to a guard and shot him, a thirty days' furlough was given as an acknowledgment of his faithful observance of orders. On more occasions than one the prisoners in their attempt to draw inexperienced guards into a conversation, and perhaps offer a bribe, met their death instantly. Inside the enclosure some of the prisoners huddled under little tents or blankets, but the greater number burrowed under the ground like moles or prairie dogs. Numbers made their escape by tunnelling under the wall.

When Sherman began his march through Georgia, the major portion at Andersonville were removed to Salisbury, N.C., where a great national cemetery was set apart after the war, and kept under the authority of the war department, containing thousands of graves—monuments to the sufferings and death of these unfortunate people—a sacrifice to what their government called a "military necessity." Our prisoners were scattered in like manner at Camp Chase, in Ohio; Fort Johnston, in Lake Michigan; Fort Delaware, in the Delaware River; and many other places, subject to greater sufferings and hardships than the Federal prisoners in our hands.

The Government of the South had nothing to do but accept the conditions imposed upon the sufferers by the authorities in Washington.

In January, 1865, rumors were rife in camp of the transfer of some of the South Carolina troops to their own State to help swell the little band that was at that time fighting on the flanks and front of Sherman. Of course it was not possible that all could be spared from Lee, but it had become a certain fact, if judged from the rumors in camp, that some at least were to be transferred. So when orders came for Kershaw's Brigade to break camp and march to Richmond, all were overjoyed. Outside of the fact that we were to be again on our "native heath" and fight the invader on our own soil, the soldiers of Kershaw's Brigade felt not a little complimented at being selected as the brigade to be placed at such a post of honor. It is a settled feeling among all troops and a pardonable pride, too, that their organization, let it be company, regiment, brigade, or even division or corps, is superior to any other like organization in bravery, discipline, or any soldierly attainments. Troops of different States claim superiority over those of their sister States, while the same rivalry exists between organizations of the same State. So when it was learned for a certainty that the old First Brigade was to be transferred to South Carolina, all felt a keen pride in being thus selected, and now stamped it as a settled fact, that which they had always claimed, "the best troops from the State." The State furnished the best to the Confederacy, and a logical conclusion would be "Kershaw's Brigade was the best of the service." Thus our troops prided themselves. Under such feelings and enthusiasm, it is little wonder that they were anxious to meet Sherman, and had circumstances permitted and a battle fought in South Carolina, these troops would have come up to the expectations of their countrymen.

But here I will state a fact that all who read history of this war will be compelled to admit, and that is, the department at Richmond had no settled or determined policy in regard to the actions of the army at the South. It would appear from reading contemporary history that Mr. Davis and his cabinet acted like Micawber, and "waited for something to turn up." His continual intermeddling with the plans of the Generals in the field, the dogged tenacity with which he held to his policies, his refusals to allow commanders to formulate their own plans of campaigns, forced upon Congress the necessity of putting one at the head of all the armies whom the Generals, soldiers, as well as the country at large, had entire confidence. General Lee filled this position to the perfect satisfaction of all, still his modesty or a morbid dislike to appear dictatorial, his timidity in the presence of his superiors, often permitted matters to go counter to his own views. It appears, too, that when General Sherman allowed Hood to pass unmolested to his right, and he began tearing up the railroads in his rear, it was a move so different to all rules of war, that it took the authorities with surprise. Then when he began his memorable march through the very heart of Georgia—Hood with a great army in his rear, in his front the sea—the South stood stupified and bewildered at this stupendous undertaking. It was thought by the army and the people that some direful blow would be struck Sherman when he was well under way in Georgia, and when too far from his base in the rear, and not far enough advanced to reach the fleet that was to meet him in his front.

How, when, or by whom this blow was to be struck, none even ventured an opinion, but that the authorities had Sherman's overthrow in view, all felt satisfied and convinced. But as events have shown since, it seems that our authorities in Richmond and the commanders in the field were as much at sea as the soldiers and people themselves. It was the purpose of General Beauregard to collect out all the militia of Governor Clark of Mississippi, of Governor Watts of Alabama, Governor Brown of Georgia, and of Governor Bonham of South Carolina to the southern part of Georgia, there, as Sherman approached, to reinforce General Hardee with all these State troops and reserves, under General Cobb, which numbered in all about eight thousand, and hold him in check until Hood came upon Sherman's rear, or forced him to retire. Of course it was expected, as a matter of fact, that Hood would be successful against the hastily concentrated army of Thomas, and Sherman would be forced to return for the protection of Kentucky and Ohio. But in military matters, as in others, too much must not be taken for granted, and where great events hinge on so many minor details, it is not surprising that there should be miscarriages. Hood was totally defeated and routed in Tennessee. The Governors of the sister States, on false principles of safety and obsolete statutes, refused to permit the State troops to leave the borders of their respective States, leaving nothing before Sherman but the handful of wornout veterans of Hardee and the few State troops of Georgia, to be beaten in detail as Sherman passed through the State. The women and children of our State were in the same frenzied condition at this time as those of Georgia had been when the Federals commenced their march from Atlanta. In fact, more so, for they had watched with bated breath the march of the vandals across the Savannah—the smoke of the burning homesteads, the wreck and ruin of their sister State—left little hope of leniency or mercy at the hands of the enemy, while all their strength and dependence in the way of manhood were either in the trenches with Lee or with the reserves along the borders of the State. Companies were formed everywhere of boys and old men to help beat back the mighty annaconda that was now menacing with its coils our common country. These were quite unique organizations, the State troops of the South. The grandfathers and grandsons stood side by side in the ranks; the fathers and sons had either fallen at the front or far away in a distant State, fighting for the Southland.

The people of this day and generation and those who are to come afterwards, will never understand how was it possible for the women of the South to remain at their homes all alone, with the helpless little children clustering around their knees, while all that had the semblance of manhood had gone to the front. Yet with all this, a merciless, heartless, and vengeful foe stood at their threshold, with the sword in one hand and the torch in the other. Not only thus confronted, they were at the mercy of four or five millions of negro slaves, waiting for freedom, as only a people could after two centuries of slavery. The enemy was ready and willing to excite these otherwise harmless, peaceful, and contented negroes to insurrection and wholesale butchery. But be it said to the everlasting credit and honor of the brave women of the South, that they never uttered a reproach, a murmur, or a regret at the conditions in which circumstances had placed them. But the negro, faithful to his instincts, remained true, and outside of an occasional outburst of enthusiasm at their newly found freedom, continued loyal to the end to these old masters, and looked with as much sorrow and abhorence upon this wanton destruction of the old homestead, around which clustered so many bright and happy memories, as if they had been of the same bone and the same flesh of their masters. Notwithstanding the numberless attempts by Federal soldiers now spread over an area of fifty miles to excite the negro to such frenzy that they might insult and outrage the delicate sensibilities of the women of the South, still not a single instance of such acts has been recorded.

Such were the feelings and condition of the country when Kershaw's Brigade, now under General Kennedy, boarded the train in Richmond, in January, 1865. We came by way of Charlotte and landed in Columbia about nightfall. The strictest orders were given not to allow any of the troops to leave or stop over, however near their homes they passed, or how long they had been absent. In fact, most of the younger men did not relish the idea of being seen by our lovely women just at that time, for our disastrous valley campaign and the close investiture of Richmond by Grant—the still closer blockade of our ports—left them almost destitute in the way of shoes and clothing. The single railroad leading from our State to the capital had about all it could do to haul provisions and forage for the army, so it was difficult to get clothing from home. We were a rather ragged lot, while the uniforms of the officers looked shabby from the dust and mud of the valley and the trenches around Richmond. Our few brief months in winter quarters had not added much, if any, to our appearance. By some "underground" road, Captain Jno. K. Nance, of the Third, had procured a spick and span new uniform, and when this dashing young officer was clad in his Confederate gray, he stood second to none in the army in the way of "fine looking." New officers did not always "throw off the old and on with the new" as soon as a new uniform was bought, but kept the new one, for a while at least, for "State occasions." These "occasions" consisted in visiting the towns and cities near camp or in transit from one army to another. An officer clad in a new uniform on ordinary occasions, when other soldiers were only in their "fighting garments," looked as much out of place as the stranger did at the wedding feast "without the wedding garments." But the day of our departure from Richmond Captain Nance rigged himself out in the pomp and regulations of war, his bright new buttons flashing in the sunlight, his crimson sash tied naughtily around his waist, his sword dangling at his side, he looked the "beheld of all beholders" as the troops marched with a light and steady step along the stone-paved streets of Richmond. He had married a year or so before the beautiful and accomplished sister of our lamented Colonel, and had telegraphed her to meet him at Columbia on our arrival. He dared not trust these innoculate garments to the dirty and besmeared walls of a box car so he discarded the new on our entrance to the train and dressed in his old as a traveling suit. All the way during our trip he teased his brother officers and twitted them with being so "shabbily dressed," while he would be such a "beaw ideal" in his new uniform when he met his wife. He had never met his wife since his honeymoon a year before, and then only with a twenty-one days' furlough, so it can be well imagined with what anticipations he looked forward to the meeting of his wife. He was so happy in his expectations that all seemed to take on some of his pleasant surroundings, and shared with him his delight in the expected meeting of his young wife. He would look out of the car door and hail a comrade in the next car with, "Watch me when we reach Columbia, will you," while the comrade would send back a lot of good-natured railery. It was an undisputed fact, that Captain Nance was a great favorite among officers and men, and while all were giving him a friendly badgering, everyone was glad to see him in such a happy mood. He had given his new suit in charge of his body servant, Jess, with special injunction to guard it with his life. Now Jess was devoted to his master, and was as proud of him as the "squires" of old were of the knights. Jess, to doubly secure this "cloth of gold" so dear to the heart of his master, folded the suit nicely and put it in his knapsack and the knapsack under his head, while he slept the sleep of the just in the far corner of the box car. When we reached Charlotte Captain Nance concluded to rig himself out, as this was to be our last place of stoppage until Columbia was reached, and should his wife meet him there, then he would be ready. So he orders water and towel, and behind the car he began preparations for dressing, all the while bantering the boys about his suit.

At last he was ready to receive the treasured gray. He called out to his man Jess, "Bring out the uniform."

Jess goes into the car. He fumbles, he hunts—knapsacks thrown aside, guns and accoutrements dashed in every direction—the knapsack is found, hastily opened, and searched, but no uniform! The more impatient and more determined to find the missing clothes, the idea began more forcibly to impress Jess that he might have slept on the way. So engrossed was he in the search for the missing suit, that he failed to hear the orders from his master to—

"Hurry up! If you don't soon bring on that coat I'll frail you out. You think I can wait out here naked and freeze?"

But still the hunt goes on, haversacks once again thrown aside, knapsacks overhauled for the third time, while beads of perspiration begin to drop from the brow of Jess. The real facts began to dawn more surely upon him. Then Jess spoke, or I might say gave a wail—

"Marse John, 'fore God in heaven, if some grand rascal ain't done stole your clothes." His great white eyes shone out from the dark recesses of the car like moons in a bright sky.

Nance was speechless. Raising himself in a more erect position, he only managed to say: "Jess, don't tell me that uniform is gone. Don't! Go dig your grave, nigger, for if you black imp of Satan has gone to sleep and let some scoundrel steal my clothes, then you die."

Such a laugh, such a shout as was set up from one end of the train to the other was never heard before or since of the "Lone Pine Tree State." All of us thought at first, and very naturally, too, that it was only a practical joke being played upon the Captain, and that all would be right in the end. But not so. What became of that uniform forever remained a mystery. If the party who committed the theft had seen or knew the anguish of the victim for one-half hour, his conscience would have smote him to his grave.

But all is well that ends well. His wife failed to reach him in time, so he wore the faded and tattered garments, as momentous of the Valley, through all the tangled swamps and morasses of the Saltkahatchie, the Edisto, and the Santee with as much pride as if clothed in the finest robes of a king.

We remained at Branchville for several days, and from thence we were transported by rail to Charleston and took up quarters on the "Mall." The citizens hailed us with delight and treated us with the greatest hospitality. The greater number of the best-to-do citizens had left the city, and all that lived on the bay and in reach of the enemies guns had moved to safer quarters in the city or refugeed in the up country. But every house stood open to us. Flags and handkerchiefs waved from the windows and housetops, and all was bustle and commotion, notwithstanding the continual booming of cannon at Sumter and on Sullivan's Island. Every minute or two a shell would go whizzing overhead or crashing through the brick walls of the buildings. Soldiers were parading the streets, citizens going about their business, while all the little stores and shops were in full blast, the same as if the "Swamp Angel" was not sending continually shells into the city. The people had become accustomed to it and paid little attention to the flying shells.

On one occasion, while a bridal ceremony was being performed in one of the palatial residences in the city, the room filled with happy guests, a shell came crashing into the apartment, bursting among the happy bridal party, killing one of the principals and wounding several of the guests.

While I and several other officers were eating breakfast at one of the hotels, a great noise was heard in the upper portion of the building, giving quite a shock to all. Someone asked the colored waiter, "What was that noise?" "Only a shell bursting in one of the upper rooms," was the reply.

Women and children walked leisurely to market or about their daily vocations, the shells roaring overhead, with no more excitement or concern than had it only been a fourth of July celebration.

Even the negroes, usually so timid and excitable, paid but momentary attention to the dangers.



The Confederates had abandoned the greater part of Morris' Island, and great batteries had been erected on it by General Gillmore, with the avowed purpose of burning the city. Some weeks before this he had erected a battery in the marshes of the island and a special gun cast that could throw shells five miles, the greatest range of a cannon in that day. The gun was named the "Swamp Angel" and much was expected of it, but it did no other execution than the killing of a few civilians and destroying a few dwellings. The citizens were too brave and patriotic to desert their homes as long as a soldier remained on the islands or in the forts. The gallant defenders of Sumter, after a month of the most terrific connonading the world had ever seen, were still at their guns, while the fort itself was one mass of ruins, the whole now being a huge pile of stone, brick, and masonry. Fort Moultrie, made famous by its heroic defense of Charleston in the days of the Revolution, and by Jasper leaping the sides of the fort and replacing the flag over its ramparts, still floated the stars and bars from its battlements. All around the water front of Charleston bristled great guns, with ready and willing hands to man them. These "worthy sons of noble sires," who had, by their unflinching courage, sent back the British fleet, sinking and colors lowered, were now ready to emulate their daring example—either to send the fleet of Gillmore to the bottom, or die at their post. No wonder the people of South Carolina felt so secure and determined when such soldiers defended her borders.

The city guards patrolled the streets of Charleston to prevent the soldiers from leaving their camps without permits, and between these two branches of the service a bitter feud always existed. The first night we were in the city some of the soldiers, on the Verbal permission of their Captains, were taking in the city. Leaving their arms at camp, they were caught "hors de combat," as it were, and locked up in the city guardhouse over night. The next morning I went to look for my absentees, and away up in the top story of the lower station house I saw them, their heads reaching out of the "ten of diamonds" and begging to be released. After much red tape, I had them turned out, and this incident only added to the ill will of the two parties. After the soldiers began to congregate and recount their grievances as they thought, they used the city guards pretty roughly the remainder of our stay. But the most of all these differences were in the nature of "fun," as the soldiers termed it, and only to give spice to the soldier's life.

There were two young Captains in the Third, who, both together, would only make one good man, physically. So small in stature were they that on some previous occasion they had agreed to "whip the first man they ever met that they thought small enough to tackle." This personage they had never as yet met, but walking down King street they entered a little saloon kept by a Jew. The Jew could scarcely see over the counter, so low was he, but otherwise well developed. On seeing the little Jew, the two young officers eyed each other and said one gleefully:

"John, here's our man."

"Yes, yes," said D, "You tackle him in front and I'll leg him in rear. By all that's sacred, we can say we whipped one man, at least."

So telling the little Jew of their agreement, and that they thought he was the man they were looking for, ordered him out to take his medicine like a little man. The Jew took it good humoredly and told the officers he was their friend and did not care to fight them, etc. But the officers persisted so, to "humor them and to show friendship for the young men," said he would "accommodate them." At that the Jew struck out with his right on John's jaw, hitting the ceiling with the little officer. Then with his left he put one in the pit of D.'s stomach, lifting him clear of the floor and dropping him across a lot of barrels. Then John was ready by this time to receive a "header" under the chin, piling him on top of D. The boys crawled out as he was preparing to finish up the two in fine style, but—

"Hold on! hold on! young man," cried both in a breath, "we are not mad; we are only in fun; don't strike any more."

"All right," said the Jew, "if you are satisfied I am. Come let's have a drink."

So all three took a friendly sip, and as the two wiser, if not stronger, young men left the shop, one said to the other:

"We'll have to get a smaller man yet before we can say we whipped anybody."

"You are right," said the other; "I was never worse mistaken in all my life in the size of the man, or he grew faster after he began to fight than anything I ever saw. He stretched out all over, like a bladder being blown up."

They found out afterwards that the Jew was a professional boxer, and was giving lessons to the young men of the city.

The soldiers seemed to be getting rather demoralized by the influences of the city, and were moved over the Ashley River and encamped about four miles of the city, in a great pine forest, near the sea. This was a great sight for many, for as much travelling as the troops had done during the last four years, this was their first close quarters to the ocean, and many had never before witnessed the great rolling waters of the sea. Oysters were plentiful, and negroes on the plantation brought out boat loads for the soldiers, and gave them out for a little tobacco or a small amount of Confederate "shin-plasters." These were about the only articles they had seen in a long time that they could buy with a "shin-plaster" (fractional currency), as almost every other commodity was worth from one dollar up. Great fires were built at night, and eight or ten bushels of the sweet, juicy bivalves were poured over the heap, to be eaten as the shells would pop by the heat.

From this place, after a week's sojourn, we were carried by rail to the Saltkahatchie River, at the crossing of the Charleston and Savannah Railroad.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XLI

On the Saltkahatchie. February, 1865.

When we reached our destination on the Saltkahatchie, we were met by our old commander of Virginia and Tennessee, Major General McLaws, from whom we had been separated for more than a year. The soldiers were glad to see him, and met him with a rousing cheer, while the old veteran was equally delighted to see us. It was like the meeting of father and absent children, for General McLaws was kind and indulgent to his men, even if not a very successful General. After being relieved of his command in East Tennessee and succeeded by General Kershaw, he had commanded the post at Augusta, Ga., to which place he returned after the close of hostilities and remained until his death. He was the greater part of the time postmaster of the city of Augusta. There being few occupations that the old West Pointers of the South could fill, they generally accepted any office in the gift of the government that would insure them an honest livelihood.

General McLaws was facing two corps of Sherman's Army at this place with some few veterans, State troops, and reserves. Sherman had been quiet for some time, recruiting his army with negroes from the great plantations along the coast, and resting up his army for his march through the State. Negroes flocked to his army by the thousands, and were formed into regiments and brigades, officered by white men. Even our own Generals and some of our statesmen at this time and before were urging Congress to enlist the negroes, but the majority were opposed to the movement. To show how confident were our leaders even at this late day of the Confederacy, I will quote from Wm. Porcher Miles, then in the Confederate Congress, in reply to General Beauregard urging the enlistment of the slaves. It must be understood that at this time Lee had all he could do to hold his own against Grant, growing weaker and weaker as the days rolled by, while Grant was being reinforced from all over the United States. Lee had the solitary railroad by which to subsist his army. Sherman had laid waste Georgia and was now on the eve of marching; through South Carolina. The Army of the Trans-Mississippi was hopelessly cut off from the rest of the Confederacy. The Mississippi River was impassable, to say nothing of the Federal pickets that lined its banks and the gunboats that patrolled its waters, so much so that one of our Generals is said to have made the report "that if a bird was dressed up in Confederate gray, it could not cross the Mississippi." Hood's Army was a mere skeleton of its former self—his men, some furloughed, others returned to their home without leave, so disheartened were they after the disastrous defeat in Tennessee. Still all these conditions being known and understood by the authorities, they were yet hopeful. Says Mr. Miles in Congress:

"I cannot bring my mind to the conviction that arming our slaves will add to our military strength, while the prospective and inevitable evils resulting from such measures make me shrink back from such a step. This can be when only on the very brink of the brink of the precipice of ruin."

From such language from a Confederate Congressman, dark as the day looked on February 4th, 1865, the date of the letter, the people did not seem to feel that they were on the "brink of the precipice." Continuing, Mr. Miles goes on in a hopeful strain:

"But I do not estimate him [speaking of Grant] as a soldier likely to decide the fate of battle. We have on our rolls this side of the Mississippi four hundred and one thousand men, one hundred and seventy-five thousand effective and present. We can easily keep in the field an effective force of two hundred thousand. These are as many as we can well feed and clothe, and these are sufficient to prevent subjugation or the overrunning of our territory."

How a man so well informed and familiar with the foregoing facts could hope for ultimate results, is hard to comprehend by people of this day and generation. It was the plan of General Beauregard to concentrate all the available troops in North and South Carolina on the Saltkahatchie, to keep Sherman at bay until Dick Taylor, with the remnant of Hood's Army, could come up, then fall back to the Edisto, where swamps are wide and difficult of passage, allow Sherman to cross over two of his corps, fall upon them with all the force possible, destroy or beat them back upon the center, then assail his flanks, and so double him up as to make extrication next to impossible. But in case of failure here, to retire upon Branchville or Columbia, put up the strongest fortifications possible, withdraw all the troops from Charleston, Wilmington, and in the other cities, put in all the State troops that were available from the three States, push forward as many veterans as Lee could temporarily spare from the trenches, barely leaving a skirmish line behind the works around Richmond and Petersburg, then as Sherman approached, fall upon him with all the concentrated force and crush him in the very heart of the State, or to so cripple him as to make a forward movement for a length of time impossible; while the railroads in his rear being all destroyed, his means of supplies would be cut off, and nothing left but retreat. Then, in that event, the whole of Beauregard's troops to be rushed on to Lee, and with the combined army assault, the left flank of Grant and drive him back on the James. That the soldiers in the ranks and the subaltern officers felt that some kind of movement like this was contemplated, there can be no doubt. It was this feeling that gave them the confidence in the face of overwhelming numbers, and nerved them to greater efforts in time of battle. It was this sense of confidence the soldiers had in the heads of departments and in the commanding Generals that gave the inspiration to the beaten army of Hood that induced these barefoot men to march half way across the continent to place themselves in battle lines across the pathway of Sherman. It was this confidence in the wisdom of our rulers, the genius of the commanders, the stoicism of the soldiers, and above all, the justness of our cause and the helping hand of the Omnipotent, that influenced the women of the South to bear and endure the insults of the Federal soldiers, and view with unconcern the ruin of their homes and the desecration of their country. From the standpoint of the present, this would have been the only possible plan whereby any hopes of ultimate success were possible. But to the people of this day and time, the accomplishment of such an undertaking with the forces and obstacles to be overcome looks rather far-fetched, especially when we reflect that Johnston, with fifty or sixty thousand of the best troops in the service, had failed to check Sherman among the mountain passes of North Georgia, or even to prevent his successful advance to the very walls of Atlanta. That General Beauregard, with his handful of regular troops and a contingent of boys and old men, could accomplish what General Johnston, with a well equipped army of veterans, failed in, was simply a blind faith in the occult influence of Providence.

But it seems as if the department at Richmond had lost its head, and had no settled policy. Telegrams were being continually sent to the Generals in the field to "Crush the enemy," "You must fight a great battle," "Either destroy him or so cripple his efforts to reach Grant, that reinforcements would be taken from Lee's front," "Why don't you fight?" etc. These were the encouraging messages Generals Beauregard and Hardee were receiving, but where were the troops to accomplish such work? Generals from every direction were calling for aid—to be reinforced, or that the enemy was making advances, without means to stop him. The answer to all these calls were the same, in substance at least, as that given by Napoleon to the request of Ney of Waterloo, when that marshal called upon the Emperor for reinforcements, "Where does he expect me to get them? Make them?" It seems that the people, with the exception of the privates in the field and the women and children at home, had become panic stricken.

On the 3rd of February General Sherman began crossing the Saltkahatchie at places between Broxton's and Rivers' Bridges (and above the latter), and was moving by easy stages in the direction of Branchville. It was not conclusively known whether Sherman, on reaching that place, would turn towards Augusta or in the direction of Charleston, or continue his march to Columbia. President Davis having declined the proposition of General Beauregard to evacuate all the cities on the coast and make a stand on the Edisto, declined also a like proposition to fight the great battle at either Branchville or Columbia, without offering any better policy himself. The only alternative the latter had was to keep out of Sherman's way as well as possible and to allow him to continue laying waste the entire center of the State. His only encouragements were dispatches from the President to "Turn and Crash Sherman," "Call on the Governors," "Bring out the militia," etc.

Sherman's columns of advance consisted of four great patrolled lines, with a corps on each. His extreme right was made up of the Seventeenth Corps, under General Frank P. Blair, the Fifteenth next, under General Jno. A. Logan, the two being the right wing of the army, commanded by General Howard. The left wing, under General Slocum, consisted of the Fourteenth Corps, on extreme left, General Jeff. C. Davis commanding; the next, the Twentieth, under General A.S. Williams, the whole numbering sixty thousand. The cavalry, numbering four thousand additional, was on either flank.

To meet this formidable array, Beauregard had under his immediate command Hardee, with thirteen thousand seven hundred (three thousand being State militia); around Augusta and on the march in Georgia and upper South Carolina was the remnant of Hood's Army—Steven D. Lee, with three thousand three hundred and fifty; Dick Cheatham, with two thousand five hundred.

Stewart's Corps was far back in Georgia, and too far away to give any hopes of meeting Beauregard in this State. It consisted of Loring's Division, one thousand eight hundred and eighty-seven; Wathals' Division, one thousand and thirty-six; French's Division, one thousand five hundred and nineteen.

It must not be forgotten that the number under Hardee included the troops in and around Charleston, and all the cities and towns in the State where soldiers were stationed.

General Wheeler, in command of several brigades of cavalry, now reduced to a mere skeleton organization, was hovering around the enemy's flanks and in front between Branchville and Augusta.

Just prior to the evacuation of Columbia, General Beauregard applied to the war department for the promotion of General Wade Hampton to Lieutenant General, to take precedence over Major General Wheeler, now in command of all the cavalry in this army. He further asked that he be assigned to the command of the cavalry of his department, all of which was granted. Generals Hampton and Butler were both at home at the time, the former on furlough, the latter recruiting and mounting his troops. These two Generals being natives of the State, and General Hampton so familiar with the topography of the country through which the army had to pass, General Beauregard thought him a desirable officer for the post. Furthermore, Wheeler's Cavalry had become thoroughly demoralized and undisciplined. From their long, continual retreats the cavalry had become to look upon "retreat" as the regular and national order. Acting on the principle that all which was left in their wake of private property would be appropriated by the enemy, they fell with ruthless hands upon whatsoever property their eyes took a fancy to, consoling themselves with the reasoning "that if we don't take it, the enemy will." So audacious had become the raids of Wheeler's command that citizens had little choice between the two evils, "Wheeler's Cavalry or the Federals." The name of "Wheeler's men" became a reproach and a by-word, and remains so to this day with the descendants of those who felt the scourge of these moving armies.

These are matters that are foreign to the subject or to the "History of Kershaw's Brigade," but as the greater part of the soldiers of South Carolina were away during the march through their State and ignorant of the movements of the armies, I write for their information, and the concluding part of this work will be rather a history of the whole army than of one brigade.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XLII

March Through South Carolina, February and March, 1865.

When Sherman put this mighty machine of war in motion, Kershaw's Brigade was hurried back to Charleston and up to George's Station, then to the bridge on the Edisto. Raiding parties were out in every direction, destroying bridges and railroads, and as the Southern Army had no pontoon corps nor any methods of crossing the deep, sluggish streams in their rear but by bridges, it can be seen that the cutting of one bridge alone might be fatal to the army. It was discovered early in the march that Sherman did not intend to turn to the right or the left, but continue on a direct line, with Columbia as the center of operations. We were removed from the Edisto back to Charleston, and up the Northeastern Railroad to St. Stephen's, on the Santee. It was feared a raiding party from Georgetown would come up the Santee and cut the bridge, thereby isolating the army Hardee had in Charleston and vicinity. Slowly Sherman "dragged his weary length along." On the 13th of February the corps of General Blair reached Kingsville and drove our pickets away from the bridge over the Congaree.

On the 15th of February the advance column of the Twentieth Corps came in sight of Columbia. All the bridges leading thereto were burned and the Southern troops withdrawn to the eastern side. Frank Blair's Corps left the road leading to Columbia at Hopkin's, and kept a direct line for Camden. Another corps, the Fifteenth, crossed the Broad at Columbia, while the Fourteenth and Twentieth were to cross at Freshley's and Alston. Orders had been given to evacuate Charleston, and all the troops under General McLaws, at Four Hole Swamp, and along the coast were to rendezvous at St. Stephen's, on the Santee, and either make a junction with the Western Army at Chester, S.C., or if not possible, to continue to Chesterfield or Cheraw. The plan of the campaign was now to concentrate all the forces of Hood's State Troops and Hardee's at some point in upper South Carolina or in North Carolina, and make one more desperate stand, and by united action crash and overthrow Sherman's Army, thereby relieving Lee.

On the morning of the 16th of February the enemy, without any warning whatever, began shelling the city of Columbia, filled with women and children. Now it must be remembered that this was not for the purpose of crossing the river, for one of Sherman's corps had already crossed below the city and two others above. One shell passed through the hotel in which General Beauregard was at the time, others struck the State House, while many fell throughout the city. General Hampton withdrew his small force of cavalry early on the morning of the 17th, and the Mayor of the city met an officer of the Federal Army under a flag of truce and tendered him the surrender of the city, and claimed protection for its inhabitants. This was promised.

All during the day thousands of the enemy poured into the city, General Sherman entering about midday. Generals Davis' and Williams' Corps crossed the Saluda and continued up on the western bank of Broad River, one crossing ten, the other twenty-five miles above Columbia. The people of Columbia had hopes of a peaceful occupation of the city, but during the day and along towards nightfall, the threatening attitude of the soldiers, their ominous words, threats of vengeance, were too pretentious for the people to misunderstand or to expect mercy. These signs, threats, and mutterings were but the prelude to that which was to follow.

About 9 o'clock P.M. the alarm of fire was given and the dread sound of the fire bells, mingled with the hum and roar of ten thousand voices and the tread of as many troops hurrying to and fro on their cursed mission, could be heard by the now thoroughly frightened populace. The people, with blanched countenances, set features, looked in mute silence into the faces of each other. All knew and felt, but dared not even to themselves to whisper, the unmistakable truth. Now another alarm, another fire bell mingles its sound with the general chorus of discord, shouts of the soldiery, the frightened cries of the people—jells of the drunken troops all a scathing, maddening turbulance in the crowded streets. A lurid glare shoots up above the housetops, then the cracking and roaring of the dread elements told but too plainly that the beautiful city was soon to be wrapped in flames. The sack and pillage had begun!

Few men being in the city, the women, with rare heroism, sought to save some little necessities of life, only to see it struck to the floor or snatched from their hands and scattered in the streets. Here would be a lone woman hugging an infant to her breast, with a few strips of clothing hanging on her arms; helpless orphans lugging an old trunk or chest, now containing all they could call their own—these would be snatched away, broken open, contents rifled by the drunken soldiers, or if not valuable, trampled under foot.

Soldiers, with axes and hammers, rushed from house to house, breaking in doors, smashing trunks, boxes, bureaus, and robbing them of all that was valuable, then leaving the house in flames. Helpless women, screaming children, babes in the arms, invalids on beds, jolted and jostled against the surging mob—none to help, none to advise—these defenseless sufferers rushed aimlessly about, their sole purpose being to avoid the flames and seek a place of safety. The fires originated principally in the southern section of the city, and as the fire eat its way up, the howling throng followed, driving the innocent and helpless ahead.

As the night wore on, the drunken soldiers, first made intoxicated by the wine in private cellars or the liquors in the government buildings, now became beastly drunk in their glee at the sight of the destruction they had wrought. The women and children followed the dark back-ground of that part of the city not yet in flames. The Federal officers, instead of offering assistance or a helping hand to the ruined and distressed people, added insult to injury by joining in with the private soldiers in the plundering of the city, insulting the women and adding fuel to the flame.

All night long did the flames rage, leap, and lick the clouds as one block of buildings after another fell—food for the devouring elements. This drunken orgies was kept up until their craven hearts were fully satisfied. A few squares in the north-eastern part of the city were left, also several churches, and into these the women and children were huddled and packed, and had to remain for days and some for weeks, almost on the verge of starvation. The Federal commander, through the boundless dictates of his sympathetic heart, after destroying all that fire and rapine could reach, left the starving thousands a few rations each of the plunder he had robbed of the planters in the country.

No vehicles nor horses were left in the city's limits—the bridges burned that led across the river to the west. To the east, Blair's Corps was laying waste everything in their pathway, while above and below the city, for a distance of fifty miles, Sherman had swept the country as bare as if a blight had fallen upon it. How the people of Columbia subsisted during the time they were penned in the city churches and the few buildings left, will ever remain a mystery, and to none so much as the sufferers themselves.

Grains of corn were eagerly picked up in the streets as they dropped from the wagons, and the women and children of the lower class and the negroes flocked to the deserted camps to gather up the crumbs left by the soldiers or the grains trampled under foot of the horses.

Every house in a stretch of fifty miles was entered and insults and indignities offered the defenseless women which would have shamed the savage Turk. Ladies were forced to disclose, at the point of the pistol or the sabre, the hiding-place of their little valuables. Some were forced to cook meals and wait upon the hell hounds, while they regaled themselves upon the choice viands of medicinal wines of the planters' wives. But be it known to their immortal honor, that it was only on the most rare occasions that these proud dames of the South could, either by threat or brutal treatment, be forced to yield to their insolent demands. With the orders from the soldiers to "prepare a meal" or "disclose the whereabouts of their money or valuables," came the threat, "We will burn your house if you do not." But almost invariably came the quick response, "Burn it, burn it, you cowardly wretches, and kill me, if you wish, and all of us, but I will never soil my hands by waiting upon a cowardly Yankee, nor tell you the place of concealment—find it if you can." The soldiers would question the negroes to find out if there were any watches, silver plate, or money belonging to the household; if so, they would, by a system of inquisition, attempt to force the women to give it up, but in vain.

A woman, Mrs. Miller, the wife of a neighbor of mine, had her husband's gold watch in her bosom, and refused to give it up when demanded, even when a cocked pistol was at her head. The vandal struck her a stunning blow with the butt end of the pistol—all in vain. The brave heroine held to the heirloom, and stoutly resisted all entreaties and threats.

Two old people living near me, brother and maiden sister, named Loner, both pass three scores, were asked to give their money. They had none. But one of the ruffians threw a fire brand under the bed, saying:

"I will put it out if you will tell me where you keep your money; you have it, for I've been so informed."

"Let it burn," answered the old women. "Do you think to frighten or intimidate me by burning my house that I will tell what I choose to conceal? Do you think I care so much for my house and its belongings? No, no; you mistake the women of the South. You will never conquer her people by making war upon defenseless women. Let the house go up in flames, and my ashes mingle with its ashes, but I will remain true to myself, my country, and my God."

Soon all that was left of the once happy home was a heap of ashes. Will God, in His wisdom, ever have cause to again create such women as those of the Southland? Or were there ever conditions in the world's history that required the presence of such noble martyrdom as was displayed by the women of the South during the Civil War?

But a Nemesis in this case, as in many others, was lurking near. Bands of Confederates and scouts had scattered themselves on the flanks and rear of the enemy; old men and boys and disabled veterans were lying in wait in many thickets and out of the way places, ready to pounce upon the unsuspecting freebooters and give to them their just deserts. Was it any wonder that so many hundreds, nay thousands, of these Goths failed to answer to Sherman's last roll call? Before the sun was many hours older, after the burning of the Loner homestead, the dreaded "bushwhackers" were on the trail of the vandals.

For years afterwards people, from curiosity, came to look at a heap of human bones in a thicket near, bleached by winter's rain and summer's sun, while some of the older men, pointing to the ghostly relics, would say, "Those are the remains of Sherman's houseburners." And such were the scenes from the Saltkahatchie to the Cape Fear. Who were to blame?

Sherman now directs his march towards Winnsboro and Chester, still in the four great parols, burning and plundering as they go. It seems that in their march through Georgia they were only whetting their appetites for a full gorge of vandalism in South Carolina. After their carnival of ruin in Columbia the Federals, like the tiger, which, with the taste of blood, grows more ravenous, they became more destructive the more destruction they saw. Great clouds of black smoke rose up over the whole county and darkened the sky overhead, while at night the heavens were lit up by the glare of the burning buildings. The railroad tracks were torn up and bridges burned, the iron being laid across heaps of burning ties, then when at red heat, were wrapped around trees and telegraph posts—these last through pure wantonness, as no army was in their rear that could ever use them again.

While that part of Sherman's Army was crossing Broad River at Alston and Freshley's, and the other near Ridgeway, General Hampton wrote General Beauregard to concentrate all his forces at or near the latter place by shipping Hardee and all forces under him at once by railroad—Stephenson's Division of Western men, now with Hampton and all the cavalry to fall upon the Fifteenth Corps, under Blair, and crush it before the other portions of the army could reach it. He argued that the enemy was marching so wide apart, the country so hilly, and the roads in Fairfield County almost impassable, that one wing of the army could be crushed before the other could reach it. But General Beauregard telegraphed him, "The time is past for that move. While it could have been done at the Edisto or Branchville, it is too late now."

On the night of the 17th and morning of the 18th Charleston was evacuated. Before the commencement of the retirement, orders were given by General Beauregard to General Hardee to withdraw the troops in the following order, but General Hardee being sick at this time, the execution of the order devolved upon General McLaws: One brigade of Wright's Division, in St. Paul's Parish, to move by railroad to Monk's Corner, then march by Sandy Run to the Santee; the other portion of Wright's Division to move by Summerville to St. Stephen's. The troops in Christ Church Parish to go by steamer to St. Stephen's. The troops from James' Island to move out by Ashley's Ferry and follow the Northeastern railroad, to be followed in turn by all the troops in the city. McLaws was to withdraw from Sherman's front at Branchville and follow on to St. Stephen's. After all the troops were here congregated, the line of march was taken up in the direction of Cheraw. Away to our left we could see the clouds of smoke rise as houses went up in flames, while forest fires swept the country far and wide. It was not fully understood to what point Sherman was making, until he reached Winnsboro. Here he turned the course of direction by turning to the right, crossing the Catawba at Pea's Ferry and Rocky Mount, the right wing under General Howard, at Pea's; the left, under General Slocum, at Rocky Mount, all marching to form a junction again at Cheraw. Sherman did not dare to trust himself far in the interior for any length of time, but was marching to meet the fleet that had left him at Savannah and the troops under Schofield, at Newbern, N.C. This is the reason he turns his course towards the sea coast. Raiding parties, under Kilpatrick, were sent out in the direction of Darlington and Lancaster, burning and plundering at will.

About this time Fort Fisher and all the works at the mouth of the Cape Fear River fell into the hands of the enemy. Wilmington surrendered and General Bragg, who was in command there, retreated to Goldsboro.

How, in the face of all these facts, could it be possible for Generals to deceive themselves or to deceive others, or how President Davis could have such delusive hopes, is now impossible to comprehend. On February 22nd, after the fall of Wilmington, the Army of Sherman was on the border of North Carolina, while Hood's was straggling through the upper part of this State, with no prospects of forming a junction with Beauregard. President Davis wrote on that day:

"General Beauregard: I have directed General J.E. Johnston to assume command of the Southern Army and assign you to duty with him. Together, I feel assured you will beat back Sherman."

To add one man, even if a great commander, would add but little strength to any army, already exhausted beyond the hope of recuperation, still "You will beat Sherman back!" the President writes. I for one cannot see how a General could receive such an order at such time in any other spirit than ridicule. President Davis, even after the fall of Richmond and the battle of Bettonville fought, where Johnston tried once more to "beat back Sherman" and failed—after all the circumstances and conditions were given to him in detail—said, "The struggle could be still carried on to a successful issue by bringing out all our latent resources; that we could even cross the Mississippi River, join forces with Kirby Smith, and prolong the war indefinitely." Was there ever such blind faith or dogged tenacity of purpose? Did Mr. Davis and our Generals really believe there was still a chance for a successful issue at this late day, or was it the knowledge of the disposition of the troops whom they knew would rather suffer death than defeat.

It must, within all reason, have been the latter, for no great commander cognizant of all the facts could have been so blind. Even while the Confederate troops were overwhelmed by numbers, communications cut on all sides, all out posts and the borders hemmed in one small compass, some of our soldiers entered a publishing house in Raleigh, destroyed all the type, broke the presses, and demolished the building—all this because the editor of the paper advised the giving up of the contest! Did the soldiers of the South believe as yet that they were beaten? Circumstances and their surly moods say not. Well might a commander or executive have apprehensions of his personal safety should he counsel submission as long as there was a soldier left to raise a rifle or draw a lanyard. I ask again was there ever before such troops as those of the South? Will there ever be again?

Kershaw's Brigade, now attached to Hardee's Corps, reached Cheraw about the first of March, but the enemy's advance was at Chesterfield, causing Hardee to continue his march by Rockinham on to Fayetteville, N.C., near which place the two armies, that is the one under Hampton and the other under Hardee, came together. Hardee having recovered from his indisposition, relieved General McLaws, the latter returning to Augusta, Ga. Kershaw's Brigade was soon after put in Wathal's Division.

On the 22nd of February General Jos. E. Johnston, who was then living at Lincolnton, N.C., was called from his retirement and placed in command of all the troops in North and South Carolina and Georgia. Although the army was nothing more than detachments, and widely separated and greatly disorganized when he reached them, still they hailed with delight the appointment of their former faithful old commander. His one great aim was the convergence of the various armies to one point in front of the enemy and strike a blow at either one or more of his columns, either at Fayetteville or at the crossing of the Cape Fear River. Hardee had been racing with Sherman to reach Cheraw and cross the PeeDee before Sherman could come up. He only accomplished this after many forced marches by "the skin of his teeth," to use a homely expression. He crossed the PeeDee one day ahead of the enemy, burning the bridge behind him, after moving all the stores that were possible. The right wing, under General Howard, crossed the PeeDee at Cheraw, while the left, under Slocum, crossed higher up, at Sneedsboro. Hampton was forced to make a long detour up the PeeDee and cross at the fords along the many little islands in that stream.

On the 8th of March General Bragg, with Hoke's Division, reinforced by a division under D.H. Hill, of Johnston's command, numbering in all about two thousand, attacked three divisions under General Cox, at Kiniston, defeating him with much loss, capturing one thousand five hundred prisoners and three pieces of artillery.

During the campaign our cavalry was not idle on the flanks or front of Sherman, but on the contrary, was ever on the alert, striking the enemy wherever possible. General Butler intercepted and defeated a body of Federals on their way to destroy the railroad at Florence, at or near Mount Elan. General Wheeler, also, at Homesboro, came up with the enemy, and after a spirited brush, drove the enemy from the field, capturing a number of prisoners. Again, near Rockinham, the same officer put the enemy to rout. General Kilpatrick had taken up camp on the road leading to Fayetteville, and commanding that road which was necessary for the concentration of our troops. In the night General Hampton, after thoroughly reconnoitering the position, surrounded the camp of Kilpatrick, and at daybreak, on the 10th, fell like a hurricane upon the sleeping enemy. The wildest confusion prevailed; friend could not be distinguished from foe. Shooting and saber slashing were heard in every direction, while such of the enemy who could mounted their horses and rode at break-neck speed, leaving their camp and camp equippage, their artillery and wagon trains. The enemy was so laden with stolen booty, captured in the Carolinas and Georgia, that this great treasure was too great a temptation to the already demoralized cavalry. So, instead of following up their victory, they went to gathering the spoils. Hundreds of horses were captured, but these ran off by our troops forcing all the artillery captured to be abandoned, after cutting the wheels to pieces. But the long train of wagons, laden with supplies, was a good addition to our depleted resources. A great number of the enemy were killed and wounded, with five hundred prisoners, besides recapturing one hundred and fifty of our own troops taken in former battles.

General Johnston now ordered the troops of General Bragg who had come up from Kiniston and the Western troops, under Stuart, Cheatham, and Lee, as well as a part of Hardee's, to concentrate at Smithfield. The bulk of Hardee's Corps, of which Kershaw's Brigade was a part, withdrew from Cheraw in the direction of Goldsboro, and at Averysboro the enemy came up with Hardee, and by the overpowering weight of numbers forced the Confederates from their position. The density of the pine forest was such, that after a few fires, the smoke settled among the undergrowth and under the treetops in such quantity that a foe could not be seen even a short distance away. The level condition of the country prevented our artillery from getting in any of its work, and a flank movement by the Federals could be so easily made, unnoticed, that Hardee was forced to retire in the direction of Smithfield and to an elevation.

General Johnston having learned that the enemy was marching in the direction of Goldsboro, instead of Raleigh, and that the right wing was a day's advance of the left, ordered a concentration of his troops near the little hamlet of Bentonville, situated near the junction of the roads, one leading to Raleigh and the other to Goldsboro, and there fall upon the one wing of the army and defeat it before the other came up. This was not so difficult in contemplation as in the performance, under the present condition of the troops and the topography of the country. General Johnston was misled by the maps at hand, finding afterwards that the Federal General, Howard, was much nearer Bentonville than was General Hardee. But General Hampton put General Butler's Division of Cavalry in front of this whole force, behind some hastily constructed breastworks, and was to keep Slocum at bay until the troops had all gotten in position.

General Hardee began moving early on the morning of the eighth, and on reaching Bentonville we now, for the first time, came up with all the other troops of the army. Hoke's Division lead off to take position and stood on both sides of a dull road leading through the thickets. Batteries were placed on his right. Next to the artillery was posted the Army of Tennessee, its right thrown forward. Before Hardee could get in position the enemy attacked with the utmost vigor, so much so that General Bragg, who was commanding in person at this point, asked for reinforcements. General Hardee, moving by at this juncture, ordered McLaws' Old-Division to the aid of Hoke. But the almost impenetrable thicket prevented hasty movement, and the smoke in front, overhead and the rear, with bullets passing over the heads of Hoke's men, made it impossible for these unacquainted with the disposition of the troops to know whether it was friend or foe in our front. The troops became greatly entangled and some of the officers demoralized. Some troops on our right, by mistaking the head of direction, began to face one way, while Kershaw's Brigade was facing another. But after much maneuvering, McLaw's got the troops disentangled and moved upon the line, and after several rounds at close range, the enemy retreated. Hardee was then ordered to charge with his wing of the army, composed of troops under Stuart and a division under Taliaferro, while Bragg was to follow by brigades from right to left. The firing was now confusing, our troops advancing in different direction, and the sound of our guns and cannon echoing and reverberating through the dense forest, made it appear as if we were surrounded by a simultaneous fire. But finding our way the best we could by the whizzing of the bullets, we rushed up to the enemy's first line of entrenchments, which they had abandoned without an effort, and took position behind the second line of works. After firing a round or two, the Confederates raised the old Rebel yell and went for their second line with a rush. Here General Hardee led his men in person, charging at their head on horseback. The troops carried everything before them; the enemy in double columns and favorably entrenched, was glad to take cover in the thicket in the rear. On the extreme left our troops were less successful, being held in check by strong breastworks and a dense thicket between the enemy and the troops of General Bragg. After sweeping the enemy from the field, General Hardee found it necessary to halt and reform his line and during this interval the enemy made an unsuccessful assault upon the troops of General Stuart. After nightfall and after all the killed and wounded had been removed from the field, General Johnston moved the troops back to the line occupied in the morning and threw up fortifications. Here we remained until the 21st; McLaws was detached and placed on the left of Hoke; the cavalry deployed as skirmishers to our left. There was a considerable gap between our extreme left and the main body of cavalry, and this break the writer commanded with a heavy Hue of skirmishers. Late in the day the enemy made a spirited attack upon us, so much so that General McLaws sent two companies of boys, formerly of Fizer's Brigade of Georgia Militia. The boys were all between sixteen and eighteen, and a finer body of young men I never saw. He also sent a regiment of North Carolina Militia, consisting of old men from fifty to sixty, and as these old men were coming up on line the enemy were giving us a rattling fire from their sharpshooters. The old men could not be induced to come up, however. The Colonel, a Venerable old gray-beard, riding a white horse, as soon as the bullets began to pelt the pines in his front, leaped from his horse and took refuge behind a large tree. I went to him and tried every inducement to get him to move up his men on a line with us, but all he would do was to grasp me by the hand and try to jerk me down beside him. "Lie down, young man," said he, "or by God you'll be shot to pieces. Lie down!" The old militiaman I saw was too old for war, and was "not built that way." But when I returned to the skirmish line, on which were my own brigade skirmishers, reinforced by the two boy companies, the young men were fighting with a glee and abandon I never saw equalled. I am sorry to record that several of these promising young men, who had left their homes so far behind, were killed and many wounded.

This ended the battle of Bentonville, and we might say the war. The sun of the Confederacy, notwithstanding the hopes of our Generals, the determination of the troops, and the prayers of the people, was fast sinking in the west. The glorious rising on the plains of Manassas had gone down among the pine barriers of North Carolina. The last stroke had been given, and destiny seemed to be against us. For hundreds of miles had the defeated troops of Hood marched barefooted and footsore to the relief of their comrades of the East, and had now gained a shallow victory. They had crossed three States to mingle their blood with those of their friends who had fought with dogged resistence every step that Sherman had made. But their spirits were not broken. They were still ready to try conclusions with the enemy whenever our leaders gave the signal for battle. The South could not be conquered by defeat—to conquer it, it must be crashed. The tattered battle flags waved as triumphantly over the heads of the shattered ranks of the battle-scared veterans here in the pine barriers as it ever did on the banks of the Rapidan.

It is sad to chronicle that on this last day, in a battle of the cavalry, in which the infantry had to take a part, the gallant son of the brave General Hardee fell at the head of his column as the Eighth Texas Cavalry was making a desperate charge.

In the battle of Bentonville the Confederates had fourteen thousand infantry and cavalry. The cavalry being mostly on the flanks, and General Wheeler on the north side of Mill Creek, could not participate in the battle in consequence of the swollen stream. The Federal Army had thirty-five thousand engaged on the 19th and seventy thousand in line on the 20th. The loss on the Confederate side was one hundred and eighty killed, one thousand two hundred and twenty wounded, and five hundred and fifteen missing. The enemy's losses in killed and wounded far exceeded the Confederates, besides the Confederates captured nine hundred prisoners.

On the night of the 21st the army began its retreat, crossing Mill Creek on the morning of the 22nd, just in time to see the enemy approach the bridge as our last troops had crossed.

On the 23rd General Sherman marched his army to Goldsboro, there uniting with General Schofield. It was the intention of General Lee that as soon as General Sherman had approached near enough, to abandon the trenches at Petersburg, and, with the combined armies, turn and fall upon his front, flank, and rear.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XLIII

From Smithfield to Greensboro—The Surrender.

The army took up quarters for a while around Smithfield. The troops were as jolly and full of life as they ever were in their lives. Horse racing now was the order of the day. Out in a large old field, every day thousands of soldiers and civilians, with a sprinkling of the fair ladies of the surrounding country, would congregate to witness the excitement of the race course. Here horses from Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, and North and South Carolina tried each others mettle. They were not the thoroughbreds of the course, but cavalry horses, artillery horses, horses of Generals, Colonels, and the staff—horses of all breeds and kinds, all sizes and description—stood at the head of the track and champed their bits with eagerness, impatient to get away. Confederate money by the handfuls changed owners every day. It was here that Governor Zeb Vance, of North Carolina, visited us, and was a greater favorite with the soldiers than any man in civil life. It was here, too, our old disabled commander, General James Connor, came to bid us an affectionate farewell. General Kennedy formed the brigade into a hollow square to receive our old General. He entered the square on horseback, accompanied by General Kennedy and staff. He had come to bid us farewell, and spoke to us in feeling terms. He recounted our many deeds of valor upon the field, our sufferings in camp and upon the march, and especially our supreme heroism and devotion in standing so loyally to our colors in this the dark hour of our country's cause. He spoke of his great reluctance to leave us; how he had watched with sympathy and affection our wanderings, our battles, and our victories, and then envoking Heaven's blessings upon us, he said in pathetic tones, "Comrades, I bid you an affectionate farewell," and rode away.

While in camp here there was a feeble attempt made to reorganize and consolidate the brigade by putting the smaller companies together and making one regiment out of two. As these changes took place so near the end, the soldiers never really realizing a change had been made, I will do no more than make a passing allusion to it, as part of this history. The only effect these changes had was the throwing out of some of our best and bravest officers (there not being places for all), but as a matter of fact this was to their advantage, as they escaped the humiliation of surrender, and returned home a few days earlier than the rest of the army.

After passing through South Carolina and venting its spleen on the Secession State, the Federal Army, like a great forest fire, sweeping over vast areas, stops of its own accord by finding nothing to feed upon. The vandalism of the Union Army in North Carolina was confined mostly to the burning of the great turpentine forests. They had burned and laid waste the ancestral homes of lower South Carolina, left in ashes the beautiful capital of the State, wrecked and ruined the magnificent residences and plantations of the central and upper part of the country, leaving in their wake one vast sheet of ruin and desolation, so that when they met the pine barrens of North Carolina, their appetites for pillage, plunder, and destruction seems to have been glutted.

It was the boast of the Federal commander and published with delight in all the Northern newspapers, that "where his army went along a crow could not pass over without taking its rations along." Then, too, this very country was to feed and support, while in transit to their homes almost the whole of Johnston's and the greater part of Lee's Army. All these, in squads or singly, were fed along the way from house to house wherever they could beg a little meal or corn, with a morsel of meat or molasses. A great number of negro troops also passed through this country on their way to the coast to be disbanded. But the noble women of South Carolina never turned a hungry soldier from their doors as long as there was a mouthful in the house to eat.

Another terror now alarmed the people—the news of a great raid, under Stoneman, being on its way through North Carolina and upper South Carolina, coming across the country from East Tennessee, laying waste everything in its track. General Sherman had concentrated his whole army at Goldsboro, and was lying idle in camp, preparatory to his next great move to connect with Grant. He had at his command the right wing, under General Howard, twenty-eight thousand eight hundred and thirty-four; its left wing, under General Slocum, twenty-eight thousand and sixty-three. General Schofield had come up from Newbern with twenty-six thousand three hundred and ninety-two and constituted the center, besides five thousand six hundred and fifty-nine cavalry, under Kilpatrick, and ninety-one pieces of artillery. General Johnston had encamped his army between two roads, one leading to Raleigh, the other to Weldon. The Confederate Government, after the evacuation of Richmond, had now established its quarters at Danville, Va., awaiting the next turn of the wheel. Lee had fallen back from Petersburg; while Johnston, before Sherman, was awaiting the move of that General to fall back still nearer to his illustrious chieftain. The government and all the armies were now hedged in the smallest compass. Still our leaders were apparently hopeful and defiant, the troops willing to stand by them to the last.

On the 10th of April President Davis and a part of his cabinet left Danville on his way to Greensboro. Even at this late day President Davis was urging the concentration of the troops under General Walker, the scattered troops at Salisbury and Greensboro, and those under Johnston at same place on the Yadkin, and crush Sherman, and then it is supposed to turn on Grant. All this with less than twenty thousand men!

The last conference of the great men of the Confederacy met at Greensboro, on the 13th of April, 1865. Those present were President Davis, Messrs. Benjamin, Secretary of State; Mallory, of the Navy; Reagin, Postmaster General; Breckinridge, Secretary of War, and General Johnston. The army had been falling back daily through Raleigh, and was now encamped near Greensboro. President Davis still clung to the delusion that by pressing the conscript act and bringing out all absentees, they could yet prolong the struggle, even if they had to cross the Mississippi and join with Kirby Smith. General Johnston urged in his and General Beauregard's name its utter impracticability, and informed the President plainly and positively that it was useless to continue the struggle—that they had as well abandon all hope of any other issue than that which they could gain through the Federal authorities, and besought Mr. Davis to open negotiations looking to peace—that he was yet the executive and head of the Confederate Government; that he was the proper one to commence such negotiations. This Mr. Davis refused, saying the Federal authorities would refuse to treat with him. Then General Johnston proposed doing so in his own name. This was agreed to, and a letter written by Mr. Mallory, he being the best penman in the group, and signed and sent by General Johnston to General Sherman. The letter recapitulated the results in the army in the last few days, changing the status of the two armies and the needless amount of bloodshed and devastation of property that the continuance of the struggle would produce, and asked for a conference looking to an armistice in the armies until the civil government could settle upon terms of peace. The letter was sent to General Hampton, and by him to the Federal commander the next day. General Sherman acknowledged the receipt of the letter on the 14th, and it reached General Johnston on the 16th, agreeing to a cessation of hostilities until further notice. General Sherman expressed in his letter a great desire to spare the people of North Carolina the devastation and destruction the passing of his army through the State would necessitate. When it began to be noised about in the camp that the army was about to be surrendered, the soldiers became greatly excited. The thought of grounding their arms to an enemy never before entered their minds, and when the news came of a surrender the greatest apprehension and dread seized all. So different the end to their expectation. None could even think of the future without a shudder. Some anticipated a term in Federal prisons; others, the higher officers, a military trial; others thought of their private property and their arms. Even in a prison camp, where our soldiers would be kept confined under a Federal guard, all was mystery and uncertainty. The wives and helpless children, left in the rear to the mercy of the negroes (now for the first time known to be free), agitated the minds of not a few. Men began to leave the army by twos and by squads. Guards were placed on all roads and around camps, and the strictest orders were given against leaving the army without leave. Cavalrymen in great numbers had mounted their horses and rode away. General Sherman sent guards to all fords and bridges to examine all the paroles of the troops of Lee now swarming through the country.