CHAPTER XXVII

Christmas came as usual to the soldiers as to the rest of the world, and if Longstreet's men did not have as "merry and happy" a Christmas as those at home, and in the armies outside, they had at least a cheerful one. Hid away in the dark and mysterious recesses of the houses of many old Unionists, was yet a plentitude of "moon-shine," and this the soldiers drew out, either by stealth or the eloquent pleadings of a faded Confederate bill. Poultry abounded in the far away sections of the country, not yet ravaged by either army, which it was a pleasure to those fixtures of the army called "foragers" to hunt up. The brotherhood of "foragers" was a peculiar institute, and some men take as naturally to it as the duck to water. They have an eye to business, as well as pleasure, and the life of a "forager" becomes almost an art. They have a peculiar talent, developed by long practice of nosing out, hunting up, and running to quarry anything in the way of "eatables or drinkables." During the most stringent times in a country that had been over-run for years by both armies, some men could find provisions and delicacies, and were never known to be [330] without "one drink left" in their canteens for a needy comrade, who had the proper credentials, the Confederate "shin-plaster." These foragers had the instinct (or acquired it) and the gifts of a "knight of the road" of worming out of the good housewife little dainties, cold meats, and stale bread, and if there was one drop of the "oh be joyful" in the house, these men of peculiar intellect would be sure to get it. So with such an acquisition to the army, and in such a country as East Tennessee, the soldiers did not suffer on that cold Christmas day. Bright and cheerful fires burned before every tent, over which hung a turkey, a chicken, or a choice slice of Tennessee pork, or, perhaps, better still, a big, fat sausage, with which the smoke-houses along the valleys of the French Broad were filled.

It was my misfortune, or rather good fortune, to be doing picket duty on the Holston on that day. Here I had an adventure rather out of the regular order in a soldier's life, one more suited to the character of Don Quixote. I, as commandant of the post, had strict orders not to allow anyone to cross the river, as "beyond the Alps lie Italy," beyond the Holston lay the enemy. But soldiers, like other men, have their trials. While on duty here a buxom, bouncing, rosy cheeked mountain lass came up, with a sack of corn on her shoulder, and demanded the boat in order that she might cross over to a mill and exchange her corn for meal. This, of course, I had to reluctantly deny, however gallantly disposed I might otherwise have been. The lass asked me, with some feeling of scorn, "Is the boat yours?" to which I was forced to answer in the negative. She protested that she would not go back and get a permit or pass from anyone on earth; that the boat was not mine, and she had as much right to its use as anyone, and that no one should prevent her from getting bread for her family, and that "you have no business here at best," arguments that were hard to controvert in the face of a firey young "diamond in the rough." So to compromise matters and allow chivalry to take, for the time being, the place of duty, I agreed to ferry her over myself. She placed her corn in the middle of the little boat, planting herself erect in the prow; I took the stern. The weather was freezing cold, the wind strong, and the waves rolled high, the little boat rocking to and fro, while I battled with the strong current of the river. Once or twice she cast [331] disdainful glances at my feeble and emaciated form, but at last, in a melting tone, she said: "If you can't put the boat over, get up and give me the oar." This taunt made me strong, and the buxom mountain girl was soon at the mill. While awaiting the coming of the old miller, I concluded to take a stroll over the hill in search of further adventure. There I found, at a nice old-fashioned farm house, a bevy of the prettiest young ladies it had been my pleasure to meet in a long while—buoyant, vivacious, cultured, and loyal to the core. They did not wait very long to tell me that they were "Rebels to the bone." They invited me and any of my friends that I chose to come over the next day and take dinner with them, an invitation I was not loath nor slow to accept. My mountain acquaintance was rowed back over the Holston in due season, without any of the parting scenes that fiction delight in, and the next day, armed with passports, my friends and myself were at the old farm house early. My companions were Colonel Rutherford, Dr. James Evans, Lieutenant Hugh Farley, Captains Nance, Cary, and Watts, with Adjutant Pope as our chaperone. Words fail me here in giving a description of the dinner, as well as of the handsome young ladies that our young hostess had invited from the surrounding country to help us celebrate.

Now will any reader of this question the fact that Longstreet's men suffered any great hardships, isolated as they were from the outside world? This is but a sample of our sufferings. We had night parties at the houses of the high and the low, dinners in season and out of season, and not an enemy outside of the walls of Knoxville. Did we feel the cold? Did the frozen ground cut our feet through our raw-hide moccasins? Did any of the soldiers long for home or the opening of the next campaign? Bah!

It was during our stay in winter quarters, March, 1864, that the term of our second enlistment expired. The troops had volunteered for twelve months at the commencement of the war; this expiring just before the seven days' battle around Richmond, a re-enlistment and reorganization was ordered in the spring of 1862 for two more years, making the term of Kershaw's Brigade equal with other troops that had enlisted for "three years or the war." By an Act of Congress, in 1862, all men between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five years were [332] compelled to bear arms. This had been extended first to forty and then to forty-five and during Grant's memorable campaign against Richmond, the ages ran from sixteen to fifty-five, though those between sixteen and eighteen and those between fifty and fifty-five were to be used only in State service. This brought out the expression of Grant to the authorities in Washington, that "Lee had robbed the cradle and the grave." Our re-enlistment was only a form, no change in officers or organization. Some few failed to voluntarily re-enlist, not with any view to quit the army, but some had grown weary of the hard marches of the infantry service and wished to join the cavalry. However, when the morning came for re-enlistment the troops were called out in line of regiments and a call made by the Colonel to all who were willing to enlist for the war to step two paces to the front. All, with the very fewest exceptions, stepped proudly to the front. Of course, none were permitted to leave his company for the cavalry, as that branch of the service was yet filled to its full quota, its ranks had in no discernable degree been depleted by the casualties of war. It seemed that fortune favored our troopers, for battle as they would, none were scarcely ever wounded, and a less number killed. Infantry soldiers were furloughed, through wounds, by the thousands, and artillerymen by the hundreds, after every great battle, but the cavalryman was denied this luxury, and his only hope in a furlough was a short leave of absence to replace a wornout horse that had fallen by the wayside. Their ranks of furloughed men in this line were usually quite full.

As for returning to their homes, no soldier, however humble his station, either in the army or socially at home, would have dared to leave the service had a discharge been offered him. A man in good health and with stout limbs preferred facing bullets and even death, rather than bracing the scorn and contempt the women of the South had for the man who failed his country when his services were needed. No man, however brave, would have had the hardihood to meet his wife or mother unless "with his shield or on it" in this hour of his country's need. There were some few exemptions in the conscript law; one particularly was where all the men in a neighborhood had gone or was ordered to the front, one old man to five plantations, on which were [333] slaves, was exempted to look after said farms, manage the negroes, and collect the government taxes or tithes. These tithes were one-tenth of all that was raised on a plantation—cotton, corn, oats, peas, wheat, potatoes, sorghum, etc.—to be delivered to a government agent, generally a disabled soldier, and by him forwarded to the army.

During the winter most of the vacancies in company and field officers were filled by promotion, according to rank. In most cases, the office of Third Lieutenant was left to the choice of the men, in pursuance to the old Democratic principle, "government by the will of the people." Non-commissioned officers usually went up by seniority, where competent, the same as the commissioned officers.

All these vacancies were occasioned by the casualties of war during the Pennsylvania, Chickamauga, and Knoxville campaigns. The Seventh, Fifteenth, and Third Battalion were without field officers. Captain Huggins was placed in command of the Seventh, and Captain Whiter, the Third Battalion. No promotions could be made in the latter, as Major Miller and Colonel Rice had not resigned, although both were disabled for active service in consequence of wounds.

There was considerable wrangling in the Fifteenth over the promotion to the Colonelcy. Captain F.S. Lewie, of Lexington, claimed it by seniority of rank, being senior Captain in the regiment. Captain J.B. Davis, of Fairfield, claimed it under an Act of the Confederate Congress in regard to the rank of old United States officers entering the Confederate service—that the officers of the old army should hold their grade and rank in the Confederate Army, the same as before their joining the South, irrespective of the date of these commissions issued by the war department. Or, in other words, a Lieutenant in the United States Army should not be given a commission over a Captain, or a Captain, over a Major, Lieutenant Colonel, or Colonel, etc., in the Southern Army. As all the old army officers entering the service of the South at different periods, and all wanted a Generalship, so this mode of ranking was adopted, as promising greater harmony and better results. Captain Davis had been a Captain in the State service, having commanded a company in Gregg's six months' troops around Charleston. And, furthermore, Davis was a West Pointer—a good disciplinarian, brave, resolute, and an all round good officer. Still Lewie was his [334] peer in every respect, with the exception of early military training. Both were graduates of medical colleges—well educated, cultured, and both high-toned gentlemen of the "Old School." But Lewie was subject to serious attacks of a certain disease, which frequently incapacitated him for duty, and on marches he was often unable to walk, and had to be hauled for days in the ambulance. Then Lewie's patriotism was greater than his ambition, and he was willing to serve in any position for the good of the service and for the sake of harmony. Captain Lewie thus voluntarily yielded his just claims to the Colonelcy to Captain Davis, and accepted the position of Lieutenant Colonel, places both filled to the end.

COLONEL J.B. DAVIS.

Colonel J.B. Davis was born in Fairfield County, of Scotch-Irish decent, about the year 1835. He received his early education in the schools of the country, at Mount Zion Academy, at Winnsboro, in same county. Afterwards he was admitted to the United States Military School, at West Point, but after remaining for two years, resigned and commenced the study of medicine. He graduated some years before the war, and entered upon the practice of his profession in the western part of the county. He was elected Captain of the first company raised in Fairfield, and served in Gregg's first six mouths' volunteers in Charleston. After the fall of Sumter, his company, with several others, disbanded.

Returning home, he organized a company for the Confederate service, was elected Captain, and joined the Fifteenth Regiment, then forming in Columbia under Colonel DeSaussure. He was in all the battles of the Maryland campaign, in the brigade under General Drayton, and in all the great battles with Kershaw's Brigade. In the winter of 1863 he was made Colonel of the Fifteenth, and served with his regiment until the surrender. On several occasions he was in command of the brigade, as senior Colonel present. He was in command at Cold Harbor after the death of Colonel Keitt. Colonel Davis was one among the best tacticians in the command; had a soldierly appearance—tall, well-developed, a commanding voice, and an all round good officer.

He returned home after the war and began the practice of medicine, and continues it to the present.

COLONEL F.S. LEWIE.

Colonel F.S. Lewie was born in Lexington County, in 1830, and received his early training there. He attended the High School at Monticello, in Fairfield County. He taught school for awhile, then began the study of medicine. He attended the "College of Physicians and Surgeons" in Paris, France, for two years, returning a short while before the breaking out of hostilities between the North and South.

At the outbreak of the war he joined Captain Gibbs' Company, and was made Orderly Sergeant. He served with that company, under Colonel Gregg, in the campaign against Sumter. His company did not disband when the fort fell, but followed Gregg to Virginia. At the expiration of their term of enlistment he returned to Lexington County, raised a company, and joined the Fifteenth. He was in most of the battles in which that regiment was engaged. Was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and in 1864 was elected to the State Senate from Lexington. He refused to leave his regiment, and did not accept the honor conferred upon him by the people of his county. While with his regiment in South Carolina, early in the spring of 1865, he was granted a few days' furlough to visit his home, at which smallpox had broken out, but was captured by Sherman's raiders before reaching home. He was parolled in North Carolina.

He was elected to the Legislature in 1866, serving until reconstruction. He died in 1877.

There was never a Major appointed afterwards in the Fifteenth.

About the last of January we had another little battle scare, but it failed to materialize. General Longstreet had ordered a pontoon bridge from Richmond, and had determined upon a descent upon Knoxville. But the authorities at Washington having learned of our preparation to make another advance, ordered General Thomas to reinforce General Foster with his corps, take command in person, and to drive Longstreet "beyond the confines of East Tennessee." The enemy's cavalry was thrown forward, and part of Longstreet's command having been ordered East, the movement was abandoned; the inclemency of the weather, if no [336] other cause, was sufficient to delay operations. Foster being greatly reinforced, and Longstreet's forces reduced by a part of his cavalry going to join Johnston in Georgia, and a brigade of infantry ordered to reinforce Lee, the commanding General determined to retire higher up the Holston, behind a mountain chain, near Bull's Gap.

On the 22d of February we quit our winter quarters, and took up our march towards Bull's Gap, and after a few days of severe marching we were again snugly encamped behind a spur of the mountain, jutting out from the Holston and on to the Nolachucky River. A vote of thanks from the Confederate States Congress was here read to the troops:

"Thanking Lieutenant General James Longstreet and the officers and men of his command for their patriotic services and brilliant achievements in the present war, sharing as they have the arduous fatigues and privations of many campaigns in Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Georgia, and Tennessee," etc.

CHAPTER XXVIII

While Longstreet's Corps had done some of the most stubborn fighting, and the results, as far as victories in battle were concerned, were all that could be expected, still it seemed, from some faults of the Generals commanding departments, or the war department in Richmond, that the fruits of such victories were not what the country or General Longstreet expected. To merely hold our own, in the face of such overwhelming numbers, while great armies were springing up all over the North, was not the true policy of the South, as General Longstreet saw and felt it. We should go forward and gain every inch of ground lost in the last campaign, make all that was possible out of our partial successes, drive the enemy out of our country wherever he had a foot-hold, otherwise the South would slowly but surely crumble away. So much had been expected of Longstreet's Corps in East Tennessee, and [337] so little lasting advantage gained, that bickering among the officers began. Brigadier Generals were jealous of Major Generals, and even some became jealous or dissatisfied with General Longstreet himself. Crimination and recrimination were indulged in, censures and charges were made and denied, and on the whole the army began to be in rather a bad plight for the campaign just commencing. Had it not been for the unparalleled patriotism and devotion to their cause, the undaunted courage of the rank and file of the army, little results could have been expected. But as soon as the war cry was heard and the officers and men had sniffed the fumes of the coming battle, all jealousies and animosities were thrown aside, and each and every one vied with the other as to who could show the greatest prowess in battle, could withstand the greatest endurance on marches and in the camp.

General Law, who commanded an Alabama Brigade, had been arrested and courtmartialed for failing to support General Jenkins at a critical moment, when Burnside was about to be entrapped, just before reaching Knoxville. It was claimed by his superiors that had Law closed up the gaps, as he had been ordered, a great victory would have been gained, but it was rumored that Law said "he knew this well enough, and could have routed the enemy, but Jenkins would have had the credit," so that he sacrificed his men, endangered the army, and lost an opportunity for brilliant achievements through jealousy of a brother officer. Much correspondence ensued between General Longstreet and President Davis, and as usual with the latter, he interfered, and had not the Wilderness campaign commenced so soon, serious trouble would have been the result between General Lee and General Longstreet on one side, and President Davis and the war department on the other. But General Law never returned to our army, and left with any but an ennobling reputation.

General Robertson, commanding Hood's old Texas Brigade, was arrested for indulging in mutinous conversation with his subaltern officers, claiming, it was said, that should General Longstreet give him certain orders (while in camp around Lookout Mountain), he would not recognize them, unless written, and then only under protest. He was relieved by General Gregg.

General McLaws was relieved of his command from a want of confidence [338] in General Longstreet, and more especially for his inactivity and tardiness at the assaults on Fort Sanders, at Knoxville. On ordinary occasions, General McLaws was active and vigilant enough—his courage could not be doubted. He and the troops under him had added largely to the name and fame of the Army of Northern Virginia. He had officers and men under him who were the "flower of chivalry" of the South, and were really the "Old Guard" of Lee's Army. McLaws was a graduate of West Point, and had seen service in Mexico and on the plains of the West. But General McLaws was not the man for the times—not the man to command such troops as he had—was not the officer to lead in an active, vigorous campaign, where all depended on alertness and dash. He was too cautious, and as such, too slow. The two Georgia brigades, a Mississippi brigade, and a South Carolina brigade, composed mostly of the first volunteers from their respective States, needed as a commander a hotspur like our own J.B. Kershaw. While the army watched with sorrow and regret the departure of our old and faithful General, one who had been with us through so many scenes of trials, hardships, and bloodshed, whose name had been so identified with that of our own as to be almost a part of it, still none could deny that the change was better for the service and the Confederacy.

One great trouble with the organization of our army was that too many old and incompetent officers of the old regular army commanded it. And the one idea that seemed to haunt the President was that none but those who had passed through the great corridors and halls of West Point could command armies or men—that civilians without military training were unfit for the work at hand—furthermore, he had favorites, that no failures or want of confidence by the men could shake his faith in as to ability and Generalship. What the army needed was young blood—no old army fossils to command the hot-blooded, dashing, enthusiastic volunteers, who could do more in their impetuosity with the bayonet in a few moments than in days and months of manoeuvering, planning, and fighting battles by rules or conducting campaigns by following the precedent of great commanders, but now obsolete.

When the gallant Joe Kershaw took the command and began to feel his way for his Major General's spurs, the division took on new life. [339] While the brigade was loath to give him up, still they were proud of their little "Brigadier," who had yet to carve out a name for himself on the pillars of fame, and write his achievements high up on the pages of history in the campaign that was soon to begin.

It seems from contemporaneous history that President Davis was baiting between two opinions, either to have Longstreet retire by way of the mountains and relieve the pressure against Johnston, now in command of Bragg's Army, or to unite with Lee and defend the approaches to Richmond.

A counsel of war was held in Richmond between the President, General Bragg as the military advisor of his Excellency, General Lee, and General Longstreet, to form some plan by which Grant might be checked or foiled in the general grand advance he was preparing to make along the whole line. The Federal armies of Mississippi and Alabama had concentrated in front of General Johnston and were gradually pressing him back into Georgia.

Grant had been made commander in chief of all the armies of the North, with headquarters with General Meade, in front of Lee, and he was bending all his energies, his strategies, and boldness in his preparations to strike Lee a fatal blow.

At this juncture Longstreet came forward with a plan—bold in its conception; still bolder in its execution, had it been adopted—that might have changed the face, if not the fate, of the Confederacy. It was to strip all the forts and garrisons in South Carolina and Georgia, form an army of twenty-five thousand men, place them under Beauregard at Charleston, board the train for Greenville, S.C.; then by the overland route through the mountain passes of North Carolina, and by way of Aberdeen, Va.; then to make his way for Kentucky; Longstreet to follow in Beauregard's wake or between him and the Federal Army, and by a shorter line, join Beauregard at some convenient point in Kentucky; Johnston to flank Sherman and march by way of Middle Tennessee, the whole to avoid battle until a grand junction was formed by all the armies, somewhere near the Ohio River; then along the Louisville Railroad, the sole route of transportation of supplies for the Federal Army, fight a great battle, and, if victorious, penetrate into Ohio, thereby withdrawing Sherman from his intended "march to the sea," relieving Lee by weakening Grant, as [340] that General would be forced to succor the armies forming to meet Beauregard.

This, to an observer at this late hour, seems to have been the only practical plan by which the downfall of the Confederacy could have been averted. However, the President and his cabinet decided to continue the old tactics of dodging from place to place, meeting the hard, stubborn blows of the enemy, only waiting the time, when the South, by mere attrition, would wear itself out.

About the 10th of April, 1864, we were ordered to strike tents and prepare to move on Bristol, from thence to be transported to Virginia. All felt as if we were returning to our old home, to the brothers we had left after the bloody Gettysburg campaign, to fight our way back by way of Chickamauga and East Tennessee. We stopped for several days at Charlottesville, and here had the pleasure of visiting the home of the great Jefferson. From thence, down to near Gordonsville.

The 29th of April, 1864, was a gala day for the troops of Longstreet's Corps, at camp near Gordonsville. They were to be reviewed and inspected by their old and beloved commander, General R.E. Lee. Everything possible that could add to our looks and appearances was done to make an acceptable display before our commander in chief. Guns were burnished and rubbed up, cartridge boxes and belts polished, and the brass buttons and buckles made to look as bright as new. Our clothes were patched and brushed up, so far as was in our power, boots and shoes greased, the tattered and torn old hats were given here and there "a lick and a promise," and on the whole I must say we presented not a bad-looking body of soldiers. Out a mile or two was a very large old field, of perhaps one hundred acres or more, in which we formed in double columns. The artillery stationed on the flank fired thirteen guns, the salute to the commander in chief, and as the old warrior rode out into the opening, shouts went up that fairly shook the earth. Hats and caps flew high in the air, flags dipped and waved to and fro, while the drums and fifes struck up "Hail to the Chief." General Lee lifted his hat modestly from his head in recognition of the honor done him, and we know the old commander's heart swelled with emotion at this outburst of enthusiasm by his old troops on his appearance. If he had had any doubts before as to the loyalty of his troops, this old [341] "Rebel yell" must have soon dispelled them. After taking his position near the centre of the columns, the command was broken in columns of companies and marched by him, each giving a salute as it passed. It took several hours to pass in review, Kershaw leading with his division, Jenkins following. The line was again formed, when General Lee and staff, with Longstreet and his staff, rode around the troops and gave them critical inspection. No doubt Lee was then thinking of the bloody day that was soon to come, and how well these brave, battle-scarred veterans would sustain the proud prestige they had won.

Returning to our camp, we were put under regular discipline—drilling, surgeon's call-guards, etc. We were being put in active fighting trim and the troops closely kept in camp. All were now expecting every moment the summons to the battlefield. None doubted the purpose for which we were brought back to Virginia, and how well Longstreet's Corps sustained its name and reputation the Wilderness and Spottsylvania soon showed. Our ranks had been largely recruited by the return of furloughed men, and young men attaining eighteen years of age. After several months of comparative rest in our quarters in East Tennessee, nothing but one week of strict camp discipline was required to put us in the best of fighting order. We had arrived at our present camp about the last week of April, having rested several days at Charlottesville.

General Lee's Army was a day's, or more, march to the north and east of us, on the west bank of the Rapidan River. It was composed of the Second Corps, under Lieutenant General Ewell, with seventeen thousand and ninety-three men; Third Corps, under Lieutenant General A.P. Hill, with twenty-two thousand one hundred and ninety-nine; unattached commands, one thousand one hundred and twenty-five; cavalry, eight thousand seven hundred and twenty-seven; artillery, four thousand eight hundred and fifty-four; while Longstreet had about ten thousand; putting the entire strength of Lee's Army, of all arms, at sixty-three thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight.

General Grant had, as heretofore mentioned, been made commander in chief of all the Union armies, while General Lee held the same position in the Confederate service. Grant had taken up his [342] headquarters with the Army of the Potomac, giving the direction of this army his personal attention, retaining, however, General George S. Meade as its immediate commander.

Grant had divided his army into three corps—Second, under Major General W.S. Hancock; Fifth, Major General G.K. Warren; Sixth, Major General John Sedgwick—all in camp near Culpepper Court House, while a separate corps, under Major General A.E. Burnside, was stationed near the railroad crossing on the Rappahannock River.

Lee's Army was divided as follows: Rodes', Johnston's, and Early's Divisions, under Lieutenant General Ewell, Second Corps; R.H. Anderson's, Heath's, and Wilcox's Divisions, under Lieutenant General A.P. Hill, Third Corps.

Longstreet had no Major Generals under him as yet. He had two divisions, McLaws' old Division, under Brigadier General Kershaw, and Hood's, commanded by Brigadier General Fields. The division had been led through the East Tennessee campaign by General Jenkins, of South Carolina. Also a part of a division under General Bushrod Johnston, of the Army of the West.

Grant had in actual numbers of all arms, equipped and ready for battle, one hundred and sixteen thousand eight hundred and eighty-six men. He had forty-nine thousand one hundred and ninety-one more infantry and artillery than Lee and three thousand six hundred and ninety-seven more cavalry. He had but a fraction less than double the forces of the latter. With this disparity of numbers, and growing greater every day, Lee successfully combatted Grant for almost a year without a rest of a week from battle somewhere along his lines. Lee had no reinforcements to call up, and no recruits to strengthen his ranks, while Grant had at his call an army of two million to draw from at will, and always had at his immediate disposal as many troops as he could handle in one field. He not only outnumbered Lee, but he was far better equipped in arms, subsistence, transportation, and cavalry and artillery horses. He had in his medical, subsistence, and quartermaster departments alone nineteen thousand one hundred and eighty-three, independent of his one hundred and sixteen thousand eight hundred and eighty-six, ready for the field, which he called non-combattants. While these figures and facts are foreign to the [343] "History of Kershaw's Brigade," still I give them as matters of general history, that the reader may better understand the herculean undertaking that confronted Longstreet when he joined his forces with those of Lee's. And as this was to be the deciding campaign of the war, it will be better understood by giving the strength and environment of each army. The Second South Carolina Regiment was commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Gaillard; the Third, by Colonel Jas. D, Nance; the Seventh, by Captain Jerry Goggans; the Eighth, by Colonel Henagan; the Fifteenth, by Colonel J.B. Davis; the Third Battalion, by Captain Whiter. The brigade was commanded by Colonel J.D. Kennedy, as senior Colonel.

Thus stood the command on the morning of the 4th of May, but by the shock of battle two days later all was changed. Scarcely a commander of a regiment or brigade remained. The two military giants of the nineteenth century were about to face each other, and put to the test the talents, tactics, and courage of their respective antagonists. Both had been successful beyond all precedent, and both considered themselves invincible in the field. Grant had tact and tenacity, with an overwhelming army behind him. Lee had talent, impetuosity, and boldness, with an army of patriots at his command, who had never known defeat; and considered themselves superior in courage and endurance to any body of men on earth. Well might the clash of arms in the Wilderness of these mighty giants cause the civilized world to watch and wonder. Lee stood like a lion in the path—his capital behind him, his army at bay—while Grant, with equal pugnacity, sought to crush him by sheer force of overwhelming numbers.

CHAPTER XXIX

On the morning of the 5th we had orders to march. Foragers coming in the night before reported heavy firing in the direction of the Rapidan, which proved to be the cavalry engagement checking Grant at the river fords. All felt after these reports, and our orders to march, that the campaign had opened. All day we marched along unused roads—through fields and thickets, taking every near cut possible. Scarcely stopping for a moment to even rest, we found ourselves, at 5 o'clock in the evening, twenty-eight miles from our starting point. Men were too tired and worn out to pitch tents, and hearing the orders "to be ready to move at midnight," the troops stretched themselves upon the ground to get such comfort and rest as was possible. Promptly at midnight we began to move again, and such a march, and under such conditions, was never before experienced by the troops. Along blind roads, overgrown by underbrush, through fields that had lain fallow for years, now studded with bushes and briars, and the night being [345] exceedingly dark, the men floundered and fell as they marched. But the needs were too urgent to be slack in the march now, so the men struggled with nature in their endeavor to keep in ranks. Sometimes the head of the column would lose its way, and during the time it was hunting its way back to the lost bridle path, was about the only rest we got. The men were already worn out by their forced march of the day before, and now they had to exert all their strength to its utmost to keep up. About daylight we struck the plank road leading from Orange Court House to Fredericksburg, and into this we turned and marched down with a swinging step. Kershaw's Brigade was leading, followed by Humphreys' and Wofford's, with Bryan bringing up the rear. The Second South Carolina was in front, then the Third, Seventh, Fifteenth, Third Battalion, and Eighth on extreme right, the brigade marching left in front.

After marching some two miles or more down the plank road at a rapid gait, passing Hill's field infirmary, where the wounded of the day before were being cared for, we heard a sharp firing in our immediate front. Longstreet's artillery was far in the rear, floundering along through the blind roads as the infantry had done the night before. Our wagons and subsistence supplies had not been since dawn of the 5th, although this made little difference to the men, as Longstreet's Corps always marched with three days' rations in their haversacks, with enough cooking utensils on their backs to meet immediate Wants. So they were never thrown off their base for want of food. The cartridge boxes were filled with forty rounds, with twenty more in their pockets, and all ready for the fray.

As soon as the musketry firing was heard, we hastened our steps, and as we reached the brow of a small elevation in the ground, orders were given to deploy across the road. Colonel Gaillard, with the Second, formed on the left of the road, while the Third, under Colonel Nance; formed on the right, with the other regiments taking their places on the right of the Third in their order of march. Field's Division Was forming rapidly on the left of the plank road, but as yet did not reach it, thus the Second was for the time being detached to fill up. The Mississippians, under Humphreys, had already left the plank road in our rear, and so had Wofford, with his Georgians, and were making [346] their way as best they could through this tangled morass of the Wilderness, to form line of battle on Kershaw's right. The task was difficult in the extreme, but the men were equal to the occasion, Bryan's Georgia Brigade filed off to the right, in rear, as reserves.

The line had not yet formed before a perfect hail of bullets came flying overhead and through our ranks, but not a man moved, only to allow the stampeded troops of Heath's and Wilcox's to pass to the rear. It seems that these troops had fought the day before, and lay upon the battlefield with the impression that they would be relieved before day. They had not reformed their lines, nor replenished their ammunition boxes, nor made any pretention towards protecting their front by any kind of works. The enemy, who had likewise occupied their ground of the day before, had reformed their lines, strengthened their position by breastworks—all this within two hundred yards of the unsuspecting Confederates. This fault lay in a misunderstanding of orders, or upon the strong presumption that Longstreet would be up before the hour of combat. Hancock had ordered his advance at sunrise, and after a feeble defense by Heath's and Wilcox's skirmish line, the enemy burst upon the unsuspecting Confederates, while some were cooking a hasty meal, others still asleep—all unprepared for this thunderbolt that fell in their midst. While forming his lines of battle, and while bullets were flying all around, General Kershaw came dashing down in front of his column, his eyes flashing fire, sitting his horse like a centaur—that superb style as Joe Kershaw only could—and said in passing us, "Now, my old brigade. I expect you to do your duty." In all my long experience, in war and peace, I never saw such a picture as Kershaw and his war-horse made in riding down in front of his troops at the Wilderness. It seemed an inspiration to every man in line, especially his old brigade, who knew too well that their conduct to-day would either win or lose him his Major General's spurs, and right royally did he gain them. The columns were not yet in proper order, but the needs so pressing to check the advance of the enemy, that a forward movement was ordered, and the lines formed up as the troops marched.

The second moved forward on the left of the plank road, in support of a battery stationed there, and which was drawing a tremendous fire [347] upon the troops on both sides of the road. Down the gentle slope the brigade marched, over and under the tangled shrubbery and dwarf sapplings, while a withering fire was being poured into them by as yet an unseen enemy. Men fell here and there, officers urging ion their commands and ordering them to "hold their fire." When near the lower end of the declivity, the shock came. Just in front of us, and not forty yards away, lay the enemy. The long line of blue could be seen under the ascending smoke of thousands of rifles; the red flashes of their guns seemed to blaze in our very faces. Now the battle was on in earnest. The roar of Kershaw's guns mingled with those of the enemy. Longstreet had met his old antagonist of Round Top, Hancock, the Northern hero, of Gettysburg. The roar of the small arms, mingled with the thunder of the cannon that Longstreet had brought forward, echoed and re-echoed up and down the little valley, but never to die away, for new troops were being put rapidly in action to the right and left of us. Men rolled and writhed in their last death struggle; wounded men groped their way to the rear, being blinded by the stifling smoke. All commands were drowned in this terrible din of battle—the earth and elements shook and trembled with the deadly shock of combat. Regiments were left without commanders; companies, without officers. The gallant Colonel Gaillard, of the Second, had fallen. The intrepid young Colonel of the Third, J.D. Nance, had already died in the lead of his regiment. The commander of the Seventh, Captain Goggans, was wounded. Colonel John D. Kennedy, commanding the brigade, had left the field, disabled from further service for the day.

Still the battle rolled on. It seemed for a time as if the whole Federal Army was upon us—so thick and fast came the death-dealing missiles. Our ranks were being decimated by the wounded and the dead, the little valley in the Wilderness becoming a veritable "Valley of Hennom." The enemy held their position with a tenacity, born of desperation, while the confederates pressed them with that old-time Southern vigor and valor that no amount of courage could withstand. Both armies stood at extreme tension, and the cord must soon snap one way or the other, or it seemed as all would be annihilated, Longstreet seeing the desperate struggle in which Kershaw and Humphreys, on the [348] right, and Hood's old Texans, on the left, were now engaged, sought to relieve the pressure by a flank movement with such troops as he had at his disposal. R.H. Andersen's Division, of Hill's Corps had reported to him during the time Kershaw was in such deadly throes of battle. Four brigades, Wofford's, of Kershaw's, and G.T. Anderson's, Mahone's, and Davis', of Anderson's Division, were ordered around on our right, to strike the left of Hancock But during this manoeuver the enemy gradually withdrew from our front, and Kershaw's Brigade was relieved by Bratton's South Carolina Brigade. I quote here from Colonel Wallace, of the Second.

"Kershaw's Division formed line in the midst of this confusion, like cool and well-trained veterans as they were, checked the enemy, and soon drove them back. The Second Regiment was on the left of the plank road, near a battery of artillery, and although completely flanked at one time by the giving away of the troops on the right, gallantly stood their ground, though suffering terribly; they and the battery, keeping up a well-directed fire, to the right oblique, until the enemy gave way. General Lee now appeared on our left, leading Hood's Texas Brigade. We joined our brigade on the right of the plank road, and again advanced to the attack. * * * We were relieved by Jenkins' Brigade, under command of that able and efficient officer, General Bratton, and ordered to the rear and rest. We had scarcely thrown ourselves upon the ground, when General Bratton requested that a regiment be sent him to fill a gap in the lines, which the enemy had discovered and were preparing to break through. I was ordered to take the Second Regiment and report to him. A staff officer showed me the gap, when I double quicked to it, just in time, as the enemy were within forty yards of it. As we reached the point we poured a well-directed volley into them, killing a large number, and putting the rest to flight. General Bratton witnessed the conduct of the regiment on this occasion and spoke of it in the highest terms."

But, meanwhile, Longstreet's flanking columns were steadily making their way around the enemy's left. At ten o'clock the final crash came. Like an avalanche from a mountain side, Wofford, Mahone, Anderson, and Davis rushed upon the enemy's exposed flank, doubling up [349] Hancock's left upon his center, putting all to flight and confusion. In vain did the Federal commander try to bring order out of confusion, but at this critical moment Wadsworth, his leading Division General, fell mortally wounded. Thus being left without a commander, his whole division gave way, having, with Stephen's Division, been holding Fields in desperate battle. The whole of Hancock's troops to the right of the plank road was swept across it by the sudden onslaught of the flanking column, only to be impeded by the meeting and mixing with Wadsworth's and Stephen's retreating divisions.

At this moment a sad and most regretable occurrence took place, that, in a measure, somewhat nullified the fruits of one of the greatest victories of the war. One of Mahone's regiments, gaining the plank road in advance of the other portion of the flanking column, and seeing Wadsworth giving such steady battle to Fields, rushed over and beyond the road and assailed his right, which soon gave way. Generals Longstreet, Kershaw, and Jenkins, with their staffs, came riding down the plank road, just as the Virginia Regiment beyond the road was returning to join its brigade. The other regiments coming up at this moment, and seeing through the dense smoke what they considered an advancing foe, fired upon the returning regiment just as General Longstreet and party rode between. General Jenkins fell dead, Longstreet badly wounded. Captain Doby, of Kershaw's staff, also was killed, together with several couriers killed and wounded.

This unfortunate occurrence put a check to a vigorous pursuit of the flying enemy, partly by the fall of the corps commander and the frightful loss in brigade and regimental commanders, to say nothing of the officers of the line. Captain Doby was one of the most dashing, fearless, and accomplished officers that South Carolina had furnished during the war. The entire brigade had witnessed his undaunted valor on so many battlefields, especially at Mayree's Hill and Zoar Church, that it was with the greatest sorrow they heard of his death. Captain Doby had seemed to live a charmed life while riding through safely the storms upon storms of the enemy's battles, that it made it doubly sad to think of his dying at the hands of his mistaken friends. On this same plank road, only a few miles distant, General Jackson lost his life one year before, under similar circumstances, and at the hands of [350] the same troops. Had it not been for the coolness of General Kershaw in riding out to where he heard Jenkins' rifles clicking to return the fire, and called out, "Friends," it would be difficult to tell, what might have been the result.

To show the light in which the actions of Kershaw's Brigade were held in thus throwing itself between Lee and impending disaster at this critical moment, and stemming the tide of battle single-handed and alone, until his lines were formed, I will quote an extract from an unprejudiced and impartial eye witness, Captain J.F.J. Caldwell, who in his "History of McGowan's Brigade" pays this glowing but just tribute to Kershaw and his men. In speaking of the surprise and confusion in which a part of Hill's Corps was thrown, be says:

"We were now informed that Longstreet was near at hand, with twenty-five thousand fresh men. This was good matter to rally on. We were marched to the plank road by special order of General Hill; but just as we were crossing it, we received orders to return to the left. We saw General Longstreet riding down the road towards us, followed by his column of troops. The firing of the enemy, of late rather scattering, now became fierce and incessant, and we could hear a reply to it from outside. Kershaw's South Carolina Brigade, of McLaws' (afterwards Kershaw's) Division, had met them. The fire on both sides of the road increased to a continuous roar. Kershaw's Brigade was extended across the road, and received the grand charge of the Federals. Members of that Brigade have told me that the enemy rushed upon them at the double-quick, huzzahing loudly. The woods were filled with Confederate fugatives. Three brigades of Wilcox's Division and all of Heath's were driven more or less rapidly, crowding together in hopeless disorder, and only to be wondered at when any of them attempted to make a stand. Yet Kershaw's Brigade bore themselves with illustrious gallantry. Some of the regiments had not only to deploy under fire, but when they were formed, to force their way through crowds of flying men, and re-established their lines. They met Grant's legions, opened a cool and murderous fire upon them, and continued it so steadily and resolutely, that the latter were compelled to give back. Here I honestly believe the Army of Northern Virginia was saved! [351] The brigade sustained a heavy loss, beginning with many patient, gallant spirits in the ranks and culminating in Nance, Gaillard, and Doby."

No further pursuit being made by Kershaw's Brigade during the day, it was allowed to rest after its day and night march and the bloody and trying ordeal of the morning. Friends were hunting out friends among the dead and wounded. The litter-bearers were looking after those too badly wounded to make their way to the rear.

Dr. Salmond had established his brigade hospital near where the battle had begun in the morning, and to this haven of the wounded those who were able to walk were making their way. In the rear of a battlefield are scenes to sickening for sensitive eyes and ears. Here you see men, with leg shattered, pulling themselves to the rear by the strength of their arms alone, or exerting themselves to the utmost to get to some place where they will be partially sheltered from the hail of bullets falling all around; men, with arms swinging helplessly by their sides, aiding some comrade worse crippled than themselves; others on the ground appealing for help, but are forced to remain on the field amid all the carnage going on around them, helpless and almost hopeless, until the battle is over, and, if still alive, await their turn from the litter-bearers. The bravest and best men dread to die, and the halo that surrounds death upon the battlefield is but scant consolation to the wounded soldier, and he clings to life with that same tenacity after he has fallen, as the man of the world in "piping times of peace."

Just in rear of where Colonel Nance fell, I saw one of the saddest sights I almost ever witnessed. A soldier from Company C, Third South Carolina, a young soldier just verging into manhood, had been shot in the first advance, the bullet severing the great artery of the thigh. The young man seeing his danger of bleeding to death before succor could possibly reach him, had struggled behind a small sapling. Bracing himself against it, he undertook deliberative measures for saving his life. Tying a handkerchief above the wound, placing a small stone underneath and just over the artery, and putting a stick between the handkerchief and his leg, he began to tighten by twisting the stick around. But too late; life had fled, leaving both hands clasping the stick, his eyes glassy and fixed.