The Lone Star Defenders 24

The Lone Star Defenders 24

After several days we moved some miles south of the city, where forage

was more convenient. In the meantime General Loring, with his division,

had come on from Mississippi. Receiving an invitation through Captain

Gurley to attend a party given by a Florence lady to him and General

Ross, I went up and spent two or three days in the city. While there

I visited my friends in Loring’s division, and also visited the State

Lunatic Asylum, where I found in one of the inmates, Button Robinson,

of Huntsville, a boy I had known for years. I also attended a drill of

the cadets at the university. Friends of the two young men that were

drowned had been here dragging the river for their bodies for some

days, and finally they got one of General Loring’s batteries to fire

blank cartridges into the water, and their bodies rose to the surface,

when they were taken out and buried.

 

The mountainous country lying north of Tuscaloosa and south of the

Tennessee valley was at this time infested with Tories, deserters,

“bushwhackers,” and all manner of bad characters, and it was reported

that the Tories in Marion County were in open resistance. So on the

morning of the 19th of April Colonel D. W. Jones, of the Ninth, was

sent with detachments of the Sixth and Ninth Texas and a squadron

from the Third, under Captain Lee, amounting in all to about 300 men,

up into that county to operate against these Tories. On the same

morning I was ordered to take fifteen men of Company C and accompany

Lieutenant De Sauls, of the Engineers’ Corps, from Tuscaloosa, up

the Byler road to Decatur, on the Tennessee River, and return by way

of the old Robertson road, leading through Moulton and Jasper to the

starting point, for the purpose of tracing out those roads to complete

a military map then in preparation. Applying to the quartermaster and

commissary for subsistence for my men and horses, I was instructed

to collect “tax in kind.” We moved out in advance of Colonel Jones’

command. Our duties on this expedition necessitated our stopping at

every house on the road to obtain the numbers of the lands,—that is,

the section, township, and the range,—ascertain the quarter section on

which the house stood, learn the names of all creeks, note all cross

roads, etc., etc. I subsisted the men and horses on tax in kind, which

I had to explain to the poor people in the mountains, as they had never

heard of the law. There was not much produced in this country, and

there were so many lawless characters in the mountains that the tax

collectors were afraid to attempt to collect the impost. The people

offered me no resistance, however, and to make the burden as light as

possible I would collect a little from one and a little from another.

I had the horses guarded every night, but really had no trouble. I met

with one misfortune, much deplored by me, and that was the killing of

James Ivey by Luther Grimes, but under circumstances that attached no

blame to Grimes in the eyes of those who saw the occurrence, as Ivey

made the attack and shot Grimes first, inflicting a scalp wound on the

top of his head. I reported the facts when I reached the command, and

there was never any investigation ordered.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIII

 

UNDER FIRE FOR ONE HUNDRED DAYS

 

Corduroy Breeches—Desolate Country—Conscript Headquarters—An

“Arrest”—Rome, Ga.—Under Fire for One Hundred Days—Big and Little

Kenesaw—Lost Mountain—Rain, Rain, Rain—Hazardous Scouting—Green

Troops—Shelled—Truce—Atlanta—Death of General MacPherson—Ezra

Church—McCook’s Retreat—Battle Near Newnan—Results.

 

 

WE reached General Roddy’s headquarters near Decatur, on Saturday, and

rested until Monday noon. Starting back we passed through Moulton, were

caught in a cold rain, sheltered our horses under a gin-shed, and slept

in the cotton seed without forage or rations. Next morning I instructed

the men to find breakfast for themselves and horses, and meet me at

Mr. Walker’s, down on the road. Taking DeSauls and one or two others,

I went on to Mr. Walker’s, a well-to-do man, who owned a mill, where I

hoped to get breakfast and some rations and forage to carry us across

the mountain. Arriving at Walker’s, he came out to the gate and I

asked him first about forage and rations to take with us, and he said

we could get them. Leaving DeSauls to question him about his land, I

sought the lady of the house to arrange for breakfast. I found her

very willing to feed us, as we were from eastern Texas, and knew of

her father, who lived in Rusk County. Now DeSauls was a resident of

New Orleans, was dressed in a Confederate gray jacket and cap, and

wore a pair of corduroy trousers. Soon after the lady left the front

room to have breakfast prepared, DeSauls came in with a fearful frown

on his face and said to me: “Barron, don’t you think that d——d old

scoundrel called me a Yankee?” “Oh,” said I, “I guess he was joking.”

Just at this time Mr. Walker came up, looking about as mad as DeSauls,

and said, “No, I am not joking. I believe you are _all_ Yankees; look

at them corduroy breeches! There hasn’t been a piece of corduroy in the

South since the war began, without a Yankee wore it.” I treated the

matter as a joke at first, until finding that the old gentleman was in

dead earnest, I undertook to convince him that he was wrong, but found

it no easy matter. Finally I asked him the distance to Huntsville?

Forty miles. Then through my familiarity with the people and country in

and around Huntsville I satisfied him that he was wrong, and then we

were treated kindly by him and his family.

 

After leaving Tennessee valley we passed through the most desolate

country I ever saw. For more than a day’s march I found but one or two

houses inhabited, and passing through the county seat of Winston County

I was unable to find any person to tell me the road to Jasper. Arriving

at Tuscaloosa I learned that Colonel Jones had returned and that the

brigade had gone to Georgia, and I followed it, passing through Elyton,

Blountsville, Talledega, and Blue Mountain. Camping one night at

Blountsville, I met my friend Bluford M. Faris, formerly of Huntsville.

Arriving at Talledega, I determined to spend one day, Saturday, there

in order to have some shoeing done. This was conscript headquarters

for a large area of country, with a major commanding, and there was

post-quartermaster, commissary, a provost marshal, and all the pomp and

circumstance of a military post. I thought at one time I would have

some trouble, but fortunately I came out all right.

 

In the first place I camped in a grove of timber convenient to water,

but soon received a message from the commander that I had camped near

his residence, and would I move somewhere else? He did not want men to

depredate upon his premises. I replied that I would make good every

depredation my men committed, and that it was not convenient for me to

move. I was busy for some time in procuring rations, forage, and an

order for horseshoeing, and about the time I had these matters arranged

I got a message requesting me to come to the provost marshal’s office.

On my way I saw my men out in line of battle near the court-house, with

guns loaded and capped. Calling one of them to me, I learned that one

or two of them had gone into the provost’s office and he had cursed

them as d——d stragglers belonging to a straggling brigade, and they

gave him back some rough words, whereupon he had threatened to arrest

them, and they were waiting to be arrested. Coming to the office I

found the man in charge was a deputy. Introducing myself, I inquired

what he wanted. He said some of my men had been to his office and

cursed him, and he had threatened to arrest them and wished to know

if I could control them. I told him I could control them as easily as

I could control that many little children, but if he wished to arrest

any of them, the men were just out there and he might send his men

out to attempt it—if he could. I asked him what provocation he had

offered, and made him acknowledge that he had called them “stragglers.”

I then told him they were not stragglers, but good soldiers and,

besides, they were all gentlemen, and if he had not first insulted them

they would have treated him in a gentlemanly way; that if he wished to

deal with them to proceed, otherwise I would take charge of them. Oh,

no, he did not wish to have any trouble. If I was willing for my men

to take a drink, I had his permission, and the poor fellow was more

than willing to turn the “stragglers” over to me. I called them all

up, accompanied them to a saloon, and told them that those who wished

it could take a drink. We then went about our business without further

trouble.

 

From Talladega I proceeded to Blue Mountain, intending to go from there

to Rome, but learning that our army was gradually falling back, and

being unable to learn its position or when I could safely calculate on

striking it in the flank, I turned my course southward, passed through

Carrolton, crossed the Chattahoochee River, followed the river up to

Campbellton, recrossed it and found my command fighting near new New

Hope church on the —— day of May, 1864.

 

* * * * *

 

A detailed account of this campaign would make a large volume, and

of course cannot be undertaken in these brief recollections. Our

division of cavalry reached Rome, Ga., about the middle of May, and

fought the Federal advance the same day, and then for one hundred

days were under fire, with the exception that on two occasions we were

ordered to follow cavalry raids sent to our rear. But for this brief

respite we were under constant fire for this period, each day and

every day. We were assigned a position on the extreme left of General

J. E. Johnston’s army, a position occupied by us during the entire

campaigning, while General Joe Wheeler’s cavalry was on the extreme

right.

 

To give one day’s duty is practically to give the duties of many other

days. We always fought on foot. Sometimes behind breastworks, sometimes

not, sometimes confronting infantry and sometimes cavalry. We would

be up, have our horses equipped, form a line, detail horse-holders,

and march to the front by daybreak, and take our position on the

fighting line. About nine o’clock our cooked rations, consisting of

one small pone of corn bread and three-eighths of a pound of bacon,

was distributed to each man as we stood or lay in line of battle.

While these rations would not have made a good hearty breakfast, they

had to last us twenty-four hours. The skirmishing might be light or

heavy, we might charge the enemy’s works in our front, or we might be

charged by them. Usually the musket-firing, and often artillery-firing,

would be kept up until night, when leaving a skirmish line at the

front, we would retire to our horses. We often changed position after

night, which involved night marching, always changing in a retrograde

movement. Sometimes the fighting would become terrific, for at times

General Sherman would attack our whole line, miles and miles in length,

and, under General Johnston these attacks were made with heavy loss to

Sherman’s army. Particularly was this the case in front of Big Kenesaw,

Little Kenesaw, and Lost Mountain.

 

In this campaign the cavalry service was much harder than the infantry

service. When night came on the infantry could fall down and sleep all

night unless they had to change their position, while the cavalry were

burdened with their horses. Marching back to our horses we hustled for

all the forage the Government could furnish us, which was usually about

one quart of shelled corn, and we were compelled to supplement this

with something else, whatever we could find; sometimes it was oats,

often green crab grass from the fields, and later, green fodder or pea

vines. Often this gathering of horse feed lasted until ten or eleven

o’clock, when the horses would be stripped and we could sleep, provided

we were not to move.

 

Early in June it began to rain, and continued raining day and night

for about twenty-five days, until the country was so boggy that it was

almost impossible to move artillery or cavalry outside of the beaten

roads. Sometimes when the rain was pouring down in torrents the enemy

would be throwing shrapnels at us, and hundreds, perhaps thousands, of

them without exploding, plunged into the soft earth and are doubtless

there yet. During the rainy season there was a great deal of thunder

and lightning, and artillery duels would occur either day or night, and

sometimes it was difficult to distinguish between the thunder of heaven

and the thunder of cannon and bursting shells. On one of those very

rainy days we were in some timber south of a farm, while the enemy was

in the timber north of it, only a few hundred yards distant, and had

been firing at us in a pretty lively manner. General Ross sent for me

and told me to go ascertain how far the enemy’s line extended beyond

our left. I mounted my horse and rode off, conning over in my mind the

perplexing question as to how I was to gain the desired information, as

the enemy in the thick woods could not be seen, and I could think of no

other method than to ride into the field in view of their skirmishers,

draw their fire and move on until the end of their line was apparent.

Accordingly I rode into the open field and moved along some distance

without being shot at; looking across the field near the opposite

fence, I fancied I saw a line of skirmishers just inside of it, and

tried in vain to attract their attention at long range. I rode back and

forth, getting nearer to them all the time, until I got close enough

to discover that the fancied pickets were black stumps, an illusion

occasioned by the fact that a man in dark blue uniform on a rainy day

looks black at a distance of two or three hundred yards. I was then

worse puzzled than at first, for to go back and tell General Ross that

I could not learn anything about their lines would never do. After

a little hesitation I threw down the fence and rode into the thick

undergrowth, expecting every minute to meet a volley of bullets.