CHAPTER XI

The great horde of negro cooks and servants that usually followed the army were allowed to roam at will over the surrounding country, just [152] the same as down in Virginia. The negroes foraged for their masters wherever they went, and in times of short rations they were quite an adjunct to the Commissary Department, gathering chickens, butter, flour, etc. Even now, when so near the Free States, with nothing to prevent them from making their escape, the negroes showed no disposition to take advantage of their situation and conditions, their owners giving themselves no concern whatever for their safety. On more occasions than one their masters told them to go whenever they wished, that they would exercise no authority over them whatever, but I do not believe a single negro left of his own accord. Some few were lost, of course, but they were lost like many of the soldiers—captured by foraging parties or left broken down along the roadside. It is a fact, though, that during the whole war the negroes were as much afraid of the "Yankee" as the white soldier, and dreaded capture more.

It might be supposed that we fared sumptuously, being in an enemy's country at fruit and harvest time, with great waving fields of corn, trees bending under loads of choice ripe fruits, but such was far from being the case. Not an apple, peach, or plum was allowed to be taken without payment, or at the owner's consent. Fields, orchards, and farmhouses were strictly guarded against depredations. The citizens as a whole looked at us askance, rather passive than demonstrative. The young did not flock to our standards as was expected, and the old men looked on more in wonder than in pleasure, and opened their granaries with willingness, but not with cheerfulness. They accepted the Confederate money offered as pay for meals or provisions more as a respect to an overpowering foe than as a compensation for their wares. A good joke in this campaign was had at the expense of Captain Nance, of the Third. It must be remembered that the privates played many practical jokes upon their officers in camps, when at other times and on other occasions such would be no joke at all, but a bit of downright rascality and meanness—but in the army such was called fun. A nice chicken, but too old to fry, so it must be stewed. As the wagons were not up, cooking utensils were scarce—about one oven to twenty-five men. Captain Nance ordered Jess to bake the biscuit at night and put away till morning, when the chicken would be cooked and [153] a fine breakfast spread. Now the Captain was overflowing in good humor and spirits, and being naturally generous-hearted, invited the Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel Rutherford, the latter his prospective brother-in-law, down to take breakfast with him. The biscuits were all baked nicely and piled high up on an old tin plate and put in the Captain's tent at his head for safe keeping during the night. Early next morning the fowl was "jumping in the pan," as the boys would say, while the Captain made merry with the others over their discomfiture at seeing him and his guests eating "chicken and flour bread," while they would be "chewing crackers." All things must come to an end, of course; so the chicken was at last "cooked to a turn," the Colonel and the future brother-in-law are seated expectantly upon the ground waiting the breakfast call. The Captain was assisting Jess in putting on the finishing touches to the tempting meal, as well as doing the honors to his distinguished guests. When all was ready he ordered Jess to bring out the biscuits. After an unusual long wait, as it may have appeared to Captain Nance under the condition of his appetite and the presence of his superiors, he called out, "Why in the thunder don't you bring out the biscuits, Jess?" Still blankets were overturned and turned again, knapsacks moved for the fourth or fifth time, yet Jess hunted faithfully in that little four by six tent for the plate of biscuits. "Why in the h——l don't you come on with the biscuits, Jess?" with a pronounced accent on the word "Jess." Meanwhile Jess poked his black, shaggy head through the tent door, the white of his eyes depicting the anguish of his mind, his voice the despair he felt, answered: "Well, Marse John, before God Almighty, ef somebody ain't tooken stole dem bisket." Tableaux!! Twenty-five years afterwards at a big revival meeting at Bethel Church, in Newberry County, a great many "hard cases," as they were called, were greatly impressed with the sermons, and one especially seemed on the point of "getting religion," as it is called. But he seemed to be burdened with a great weight. At the end of the service he took out Captain Nance and expressed a desire to make a confession. "Did you ever know who stole your biscuits that night at Frederick City?" "No." "Well, I and Bud Wilson—" But Captain Nance never allowed John Mathis to finish, for [154] as the light of that far-off truth dawned upon him and seemed to bring back the recollection of that nice brown chicken and the missing biscuits he said: "No, I'll never forgive you; go home and don't try for religion any longer, for a crime as heinous as yours is beyond forgiveness. Oh, such depravity!" It appears since that two of his most intimate friends had robbed him just for the fun they would have over his disappointment in the morning and the chagrin the Captain would experience, but the biscuits were too tempting to keep.

On the morning of the 17th we were yet ten miles from Sharpsburg, where Lee had drawn up his army around that little hamlet and along Antietam Creek, to meet the shock of battle that McClellan was preparing to give. The battleground chosen was in a bend of the Potomac, Lee's left resting on the river above and around to the front to near the point where the Antietam enters the Potomac on the right. The little sluggish stream between the two armies, running at the base of the heights around and beyond Sharpsburg, was not fordable for some distance above the Potomac, and only crossed by stone bridges at the public roads. Up near Lee's left it could be crossed without bridges. The Confederate Army now lay in a small compass in this bend of the river, the Federal Army extending in his front from the river above to the Antietam below, just above its junction with the Potomac. That stream rolled in a deep, strong current in the rear of Lee.

Even before the sun had spread its rays over the heights of this quaint old Quaker town sufficient to distinguish objects a few feet away, the guns were booming along the crossings of Antietam. With a hurried breakfast Kershaw took up the line of march along the dusty roads in the direction of the firing, which had begun by daylight and continued to rage incessantly during the day and till after dark, making this the most bloody battle for the men engaged fought during the century. In its casualties—the actual dead upon the field and the wounded—for the time of action, it exceeded all others before or since. When we neared General Lee's headquarters, some distance in rear of the town, D.H. Hill and part of Jackson's forces were already in the doubtful toils of a raging conflict away to our left and front, [155] where Hooker was endeavoring to break Lee's left or press it back upon the river. Barksdale's Brigade, of our division, was in front, and when near the battlefield formed in line of battle. Kershaw formed his lines with the Third, Colonel Nance, in front, nearly parallel with a body of woods, near the Dunker Church, and left of the road leading to it, the enemy being about five hundred yards in our front. The other regiments were formed in line on our left as they came up, Colonel Aiken, of the Seventh, Lieutenant Colonel Hoole, of the Eighth, and Colonel Kennedy, of the Second, in the order named, Barksdale moving in action before our last regiment came fairly in line. Sumner, of the Federal Army, was pushing his forces of the Second Army Corps forward at this point of the line in columns of brigades, having crossed the Antietam at the fords above. Sedgwick, of his leading division, had already formed in line of battle awaiting our assault. One of the Georgia Brigades of the division formed on Kershaw's left, while the other acted as reserve, and a general advance was ordered against the troops in the woods. The battle was in full blast now along the greater part of the line. General Longstreet, speaking of the time Kershaw came in action, says: "The fire spread along both lines from left to right, across the Antietam, and back again, and the thunder of the big guns became continuous and increased to a mighty volume. To this was presently added the sharper rattle of musketry, and the surge of mingling sound sweeping up and down the field was multiplied and confused by the reverberations from the rocks and hills. And in the great tumult of sound, which shook the air and seemed to shatter the cliffs and ledges above the Antietam, bodies of the facing foes were pushed forward to closer work, and soon added the clash of steel to the thunderous crash of cannon shot. Under this storm, now Kershaw advanced his men. Through the open, on through the woods, with a solid step these brave men went, while the battery on their left swept their ranks with grape and canister." In the woods the brigade was moved to the left to evade this storm of shot and shell. The Mississippians on the left were now reforming their broken ranks. Colonel Aiken, of the Seventh, had fallen badly wounded in the first charge, and the command was given to Captain White. This was the first battle in a fair field [156] in which the new commanders of the regiments had had an opportunity to show their mettle and ability, and well did they sustain themselves. Savage Station and Maryland Heights were so crowded with underbrush and vision so obscured that they were almost battles in the dark. Colonel Kennedy, of the Second, and Lieutenant Colonel Hoole, of the Eighth, were handling their men in splendid style, the Seventh changing its commander three times while in battle. Colonel Nance changed his front in the lull of battle, and moved under the friendly cover of a hill, on which was posted the battery that had been graping the field so desperately during the first advance. The brigade had now passed through the field of waving corn, over the rail fence, and driven Sedgwick from his position. Barksdale, who had been staggered by the first impact, was now moving up in beautiful harmony; the steady, elastic step of his men, the waving banners, the officers marching in the rear, their bright blades glittering in the sunlight, made a most imposing spectacle. Up the slope, among the straggling oaks, they bent their steps, while the grape, shell, and canister thinned their ranks to such an extent that when the enemy's infantry was met, their galling fire forced Barksdale to retire in great disorder. The enemy's troops were being hurried ever the creek and forming in our front. Kershaw moved forward in line with those on the right to meet them, and swept everything from his front. The enemy had been massing along the whole line, and when Kershaw reached the farthest limit of the open field he was met by overwhelming numbers. Now the fight waged hot and fierce, but the line on the right having retired left the right flank of the Third Regiment entirely exposed both to the fire of the artillery and infantry, forcing the brigade to retire to its former ground, leaving, however, the second commander of the Seventh dead upon the field. It was here the famous scout and aide to General Stuart, Captain W.D. Parley, killed at the Rappahannock, came to visit his brother, Lieutenant Parley, of the Third. He was made doubly famous by the fiction of Captain Estine Cooke.

McClellan was now growing desperate, his lines making no headway either on the left or centre. His forces were held at bay on our right across the Antietam, having failed to force a crossing at the bridges. [157] Jackson and Hill, on the left, were being sorely pressed by the corps of Mansfield and Hooker, but still doggedly held their ground. Jackson had left the division of A.P. Hill at Harper's Ferry to settle the negotiations of surrender, and had but a comparative weak force to meet this overwhelming number of two army corps. Again and again the Confederate ranks were broken, but as often reformed. Stuart stood on the extreme left, with his body of cavalry, but the condition of the field was such as to prevent him from doing little more service than holding the flanks. General Toombs, with his Georgia Brigade, and some detached troops, with two batteries, held the lower fords all day against the whole of Burnside's corps, notwithstanding the imperative orders of his chief "to cross and strike the Confederates in the rear." Assaults by whole divisions were repeatedly made against the small force west of the stream, but were easily repulsed by Toombs and his Georgians. In all probability these unsuccessful attacks would have continued during the day, had not the Federals found a crossing, unknown to the Confederate Generals, between the bridges. When the crossing was found the whole slope on the western side of the stream was soon a perfect sheet of blue. So sure were they of victory that they called upon the Confederates to "throw down their arms and surrender." This was only answered by a volley and a charge with the bayonet point. But there was a factor in the day's battle not yet taken account of, and which was soon to come upon the field like a whirlwind and change the course of events. A.P. Hill, who had been left at Harper's Ferry, was speeding towards the bloody field with all the speed his tired troops could make. Gregg, Branch, and Archer, of Hill's Division, were thrown into the combat at this most critical moment, after the enemy had forced a crossing at all points and were pushing Lee backwards towards the Potomac. Short and decisive was the work. An advance of the whole right was made. The enemy first staggered, then reeled, and at last pressed off the field. The batteries lost in the early part of the day were retaken, and the enemy was glad to find shelter under his heavy guns on the other side of the Antietam. But the battle on the left was not so favorable. Jackson's, D.H. Hill's, and McLaw's troops, jaded and fagged by the [158] forced marches in the morning, their ranks woefully thinned by the day's continuous fighting, their ammunition sadly exhausted, could do no more than hold their ground for the remainder of the day. The enemy now being re-enforced by Porter's Corps, his batteries enfilading our ranks. McLaws was forced to move Kershaw and the troops on his right to the left and rear, nearly parallel to the line first formed during the day. There had been no material advantage on either side. On the right the enemy had crossed the Antietam, it is true, but to a position no better than the night before. Our left and centre were bent back in somewhat more acute angle than on the morning, but to an equally good position. Not many prisoners were taken on either side in proportion to the magnitude of the battle. The enemy's loss in killed and wounded was a little more than ours, but so far as the day's battle goes, the loss and gain were about equal. It is true Lee lost thousands of good and brave troops whose places could scarcely be filled; yet he inflicted such punishment upon the enemy that it took him months to recuperate. The moral effect was against us and in favor of the enemy It had a decided bearing upon the coming elections at the North, and a corresponding depression upon the people at the South. The Southern Army, from its many successive victories in the past, had taught themselves to believe that they were simply invincible upon the field of battle, and the people of the South looked upon the strategy and military skill of Lee and Jackson as being far beyond the cope of any Generals the North could produce. But this battle taught the South a great lesson in many ways. It demonstrated the fact that it was possible to be matched in generalship, it was possible to meet men upon the field equal in courage and endurance to themselves. But it also proved to what point of forbearance and self-sacrifice the Southern soldier could go when the necessity arose, and how faithful and obedient they would remain to their leaders under the severest of tests. The Confederate soldier had been proven beyond cavil the equal in every respect to that of any on the globe. After fighting all day, without food and with little water, they had to remain on the field of battle, tired and hungry, until details returned to the wagons and cooked their rations. It may be easily imagined that both armies were [159] glad enough to fall upon the ground and rest after such a day of blood and carnage, with the smoke, dust, and weltering heat of the day. Before the sound of the last gun had died away in the distance one hundred thousand men were stretched upon the ground fast asleep, while near a third of that number were sleeping their last sleep or suffering from the effects of fearful wounds. The ghouls of the battlefield are now at their wanton work. Stealthily and cautiously they creep and grope about in the dark to hunt the body of an enemy, or even a comrade, and strip or rob him of his little all. Prayers, groans, and curses mingle, but the robber of the battlefield continues his work. Friends seek lost comrades here and there, a brother looks, perhaps, in vain for a brother.

The loss in some of our regiments was appalling, especially the Seventh. Two regimental commanders, of that command had fallen, Colonel Aiken and Captain White, leaving Captain Hard, one of the junior Captains, in command. The regiment lost in the two battles of Maryland Heights and Sharpsburg, two hundred and fifty-three out of four hundred and forty-six.

General McClellan, in his testimony before the War Investigating Committee, says: "We fought pretty close upon one hundred thousand men. Our forces were, total in action, eighty-seven thousand one hundred and sixty-four." Deducting the cavalry division not in action of four thousand three hundred and twenty, gives McClellan eighty-two thousand eight hundred and forty-four, infantry and artillery.

General Lee says in his report: "The battle was fought by less than forty thousand men of all arms on our side." The actual numbers were:

Deduct four thousand cavalry on detached service and not on the field from Lee's force, and we have of infantry, artillery, and cavalry, [160] thirty-three thousand. Jackson only had four thousand on the left until the arrival of A.P. Hill, and withstood the assaults of forty thousand till noon; when re-enforced by Hill he pressed the enemy from the field.

The next day was employed in burying the dead and gathering up the wounded. Those who could travel were started off across the Potomac on foot, in wagons and ambulances, on the long one hundred miles march to the nearest railroad station, while those whose wounds would not admit of their removal were gathered in houses in the town and surgeons detailed to remain and treat them. On the morning of the 19th some hours before day the rumbling of the wagon trains told of our march backward. We crossed the Potomac, Longstreet leading, and Jackson bringing up the rear. A great many that had been broken down by the rapid marches and the sun's burning rays from the time of our crossing into Maryland till now, were not up at the battle of the 17th, thus weakening the ranks of Lee to nearly one-half their real strength, taking those on detached service into consideration also. But these had all come up and joined their ranks as we began crossing the Potomac. None wished to be left behind; even men so badly wounded that at home they would be confined to their beds marched one hundred miles in the killing heat. Hundreds of men with their arms amputated left the operating table to take up their long march. Some shot through the head, body, or limbs preferred to place the Potomac between themselves and the enemy.

Lee entered Maryland with sixty-one thousand men all told, counting Quartermaster and Commissary Departments, the teamsters, and those in the Medical and Engineer Department. Lee lost thirteen thousand six hundred and eighty-seven men killed and wounded on the field of battle, and several thousand in capture and broken down by the wayside, most of the latter, however, reporting for duty in a few days.

McClellan had of actual soldiers in the lines of battle and reserve eighty-seven thousand one hundred and sixty-four, his losses in battle being twelve thousand four hundred and ten, making his casualties one thousand two hundred and seventy-seven less than Lee's. The prisoners and cannon captured in action were about equal during the twelve days north of the Potomac, while at Harper's Ferry Lee captured sufficient [161] ammunition to replenish that spent in battle, and horses and wagons enough to fully equip the whole army, thousands of improved small arms, seventy-two cannon and caissons, and eleven thousand prisoners. While the loss of prisoners, ammunition, horses, ordnance, etc., did not materially cripple the North, our losses in prisoners and killed and wounded could hardly be replaced at that time. So in summing up the results it is doubtful whether or not the South gained any lasting benefit from the campaign beyond the Potomac. But Lee was forced by circumstances after the enemy's disaster at Manassas to follow up his victories and be guided by the course of events, and in that direction they lead. McClellan offered the gauge of battle; Lee was bound to accept. The North claimed Sharpsburg or Antietam as a victory, and the world accepted it as such. This gave Lincoln the opportunity he had long waited for to write his famous Emancipation Proclamation. It was not promulgated, however, till the first of January following. Among military critics this battle would be given to Lee, even while the campaign is voted a failure. It is an axiom in war that when one army stands upon the defensive and is attacked by the other, if the latter fails to force the former from his position, then it is considered a victory for the army standing on the defensive. (See Lee at Gettysburg and Burnsides at Fredericksburg.) While Lee was the invader, he stood on the defensive at Sharpsburg or Antietam, and McClellan did no more than press his left and centre back. Lee held his battle line firmly, slept on the field, buried his dead the next day, then deliberately withdrew. What better evidence is wanting to prove Lee not defeated. McClellan claimed no more than a drawn fight.

On the 19th the enemy began pressing our rear near Sheperdstown, and A.P. Hill was ordered to return and drive them off. A fierce and sanguinary battle took place at Bateler's Ford, between two portions of the armies, A.P. Hill gaining a complete victory, driving the enemy beyond the river. The army fell back to Martinsburg and rested a few days. Afterwards they were encamped at Winchester, where they remained until the opening of the next campaign.

Before closing the account of the First Maryland campaign, I wish to say a word in regard to the Commissary and Quartermaster's [162] Departments. Much ridicule, and sometimes abuse, has been heaped upon the heads of those who composed the two Departments. I must say, in all justice, that much of this was ill timed and ill advised. It must be remembered that to the men who constituted these Departments belonged the duty of feeding, clothing, and furnishing the transportation for the whole army. Often without means or ways, they had to invent them. In an enemy's country, surrounded by many dangers, in a hostile and treacherous community, and mostly unprotected except by those of their own force, they had to toil night and day, through sunshine and rain, that the men who were in the battle ranks could be fed and clothed. They had no rest. When the men were hungry they must be fed; when others slept they had to be on the alert. When sick or unable to travel a means of transportation must be furnished. The Commissary and the Quartermaster must provide for the sustenance of the army. Kershaw's Brigade was doubly blessed in the persons of Captain, afterwards Major W.D. Peck and Captain Shell, of the Quartermaster Department, and Captain R.N. Lowrance, and Lieutenant J.N. Martin, of the Commissary. The troops never wanted or suffered while it was in the power of those officers to supply them.

Major Peck was a remarkable man in many respects. He certainly could be called one of nature's noblemen. Besides being a perfect high-toned gentleman of the old school, he was One of the most efficient officers in the army, and his popularity was universal His greatest service was in the Quartermaster's Department, but he served for awhile in the ranks in Captain Wm. Wallace's Company, Second Regiment, as Orderly Sergeant—served in that capacity at the bombardment of Fort Sumpter and the first battle of Manassas. On the death of Quartermaster W.S. Wood, Colonel Kershaw appointed him his Regimental Quartermaster to fill the place made vacant by Captain Wood, in July, 1861, with the rank of Captain. When Kershaw was made Brigadier General, on the resignation of General Bonham, he had him promoted to Brigade Quartermaster with the rank of Major. On the resignation of Major McLaws, Division Quartermaster, he was made Division Quartermaster in [163] his stead, and held this position during the war. He received his last appointment only one month before his illustrious chief, J.B. Kershaw, was made Major General. It seems a strange coincidence in the rise of these two men, who entered the service together—each took different arms, but rose in parallel grades to the highest position in the division. Major Peck was seldom absent from duty, and a complaint against him was never heard. He was a bold, gallant officer, and when in the discharge of his duties he laid aside every other consideration. Major Peck had a very striking appearance, tall, erect, and dignified, and upon horseback he was a perfect cavalier. It might be truly said he was one of the handsomest men in the army. His commanding appearance attracted attention wherever he went, and he was often taken for a general officer. For cordiality, generosity, and unselfishness he was almost without a rival. It required no effort on his part to display the elegance of his character—his gentlemanly qualities and deportment were as natural to him as it is for the "sparks to fly upward." He was born in Columbia April 4th, 1833, and died there April 25th, 1870.

The mere fact of Captain G.W. Shell being appointed to such a responsible position as Quartermaster by so strict a disciplinarian as Colonel Nance is a sufficient guarantee of his qualifications. Captain Shell entered the army as a private in the "State Guards," from Laurens, served one year as such, then as Regimental Quartermaster with rank of Captain for a part of two years. Then that office in the army was abolished and put in charge of a non-commissioned officer. Appreciating his great services while serving his regiment, the officials were loath to dispense with his services, and gave him a position in the brigade department and then in the division as assistant to Major Peck, retaining his rank. All that has been said of Major Peck can be truly said of Captain Shell. He was an exceptional executive officer, kind and courteous to those under his orders, obedient and respectful to his superiors. He was ever vigilant and watchful of the wants of the troops, and while in the abandoned sections of Virginia, as well as in Maryland and Pennsylvania, he displayed the greatest activity in gathering supplies for the soldiers. He was universally loved and admired. He was of the same age [164] of Captain Peck, born and reared in Laurens County, where he returned after the close of the war and still resides, enjoying all the comforts emanating from a well spent life. For several terms he filled the office of Clerk of the Court of his native county, and served two terms in the United States Congress. He was the leading spirit in the great reform movement that overspread the State several years ago, in which Ben Tillman was made Governor, and South Carolina's brightest light, both political and military, General Wade Hampton, was retired to private life.

COLONEL D. WYATT AIKEN, OF THE SEVENTH.

As Colonel Aiken saw but little more service with the First Brigade, I will here give a short sketch of his life. I have made it a rule in this work, as far as practicable, to give a sketch at the end of the officer's service in the Brigade, but in this case I make an exception.

Colonel Aiken was born in Winnsboro, Fairfield County, S.C., March 17th, 1828. He graduated at the South Carolina College in the class of 1849. Was professor at Mt. Zion College for two years, and married Miss Mattie Gaillard in 1852, settling at "Bellevue" Farm, near Winnsboro. He became county editor of Winnsboro News and Herald, and was married the second time to Miss Smith, of Abbeville, and removed to that county in 1858. Was fond of agriculture, and was editor of various periodicals devoted to that and kindred pursuits.

In 1861 he volunteered as a private in the Seventh South Carolina Volunteers, and was appointed Adjutant of that regiment. At the reorganization of the regiment in 1862 he was elected Colonel to succeed Colonel Bacon, who declined re-election. At Sharpsburg he received a wound in the body, which for a long time was feared to be fatal. He, however, returned in June, 1863, and commanded his regiment in the Gettysburg battle, after which he was deemed unable for further active service in the field, and was appointed "commandant of the post" at Macon, Ga. This position he held for one year, and then discharged from the army as being unfit for further service.

After the war he was selected for three terms to the State [165] Legislature. He was "Master of State Grange Patrons of Husbandry," and was twice President of the "State Agricultural and Mechanical Society of South Carolina." He was chosen Democratic standard bearer for Congress in the memorable campaign of 1876, and continually re-elected thereafter until his death, which occurred on April 6th, 1887.

Colonel Aiken was also one of nature's noblemen, bold, fearless, and incorruptible. He did as much, or perhaps more, than any of the many great and loyal men of that day to release South Carolina from the coils of the Republican ring that ruled the State during the dark days of Reconstruction.

CHAPTER XII

The brigade remained in camp in a beautiful grove, about four miles beyond Winchester, until the last of October. Here the regiments were thoroughly organized and put in good shape for the next campaign. Many officers and non-commissioned officers had been killed, or totally disabled in the various battles, and their places had to be filled by election and promotion. All officers, from Colonel down, went up by regular grades, leaving nothing but the Third Lieutenants to be elected. The non-commissioned officers generally went up by promotion also, where competent, or the Captains either promoted them by regular grade or left the selection to the men of the company. We had lost no field officer killed, except Lieutenant Colonel Garlington, of the Third, and Major Rutherford was promoted to that position, and Captain R.C. Maffett made Major. Several Lieutenants in all the regiments were made Captains, and many new Lieutenants were chosen from the ranks, so much so that the rolls of the various companies were very materially changed, since the reorganization in April last. Many of the wounded had returned, and large bodies of men had come in from the conscript camps since the reorganization. The Seventh Regiment had lost heavier, [166] in officers and men, than any of the regiments. Colonel Aiken was wounded at Sharpsburg, and never returned only for a short time, but the regiment was commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Bland until the resignation of Colonel Aiken, except when the former was himself disabled by wounds.

Camp guards were kept up around the brigade, and regimental pickets, some two or three miles distant, about every two weeks. We had company and regimental drills about four times per week, and, in fact, we drilled almost every day, now that we were not on the actual march. The turn-pike road from Winchester to Staunton, ninety miles, for weeks was perfectly lined with soldiers returning at the expiration of their furloughs, or discharged from hospital, and our convalescent sick and wounded from the Maryland campaign going homeward.

On the 27th or 28th of October orders came to move. Longstreet took the lead, with McLaws' and Anderson's Divisions in front. General Lee had divided his army into two corps; the Department of Richmond having created the rank of Lieutenant General, raised Longstreet and Jackson to that grade in Lee's Army. Longstreet's Corps consisted of McLaws' Division, composed of Kershaw's, Barksdale's, Cobb's, and Semmes' Brigades, and Anderson's, Hood's, Pickett's, and Ransom's Divisions. Jackson's Corps consisted of D.H. Hill's, A.P. Hill's, Ewell's, and Taliaferro's Divisions. We marched by way of Chester Gap over the Blue Ridge, and came into camp near Culpepper on the 9th of November. The enemy had crossed the Potomac and was moving southward, by easy stages, on the east side of the mountain.

On the 5th of October General McClellan was removed from the command of the Army of the Potomac and Major General Burnsides, a corps commander, was made Commander-in-Chief in his stead. This change was universally regretted by both armies, for the Northern Army had great confidence in the little "Giant," while no officer in the Union Army was ever held in higher esteem by the Southern soldiers than little "Mack," as General McClellan was called. They admired him for his unsurpassed courage, generalship, and his kind and gentlemanly [167] deportment, quite in contrast to the majority of Union commanders.

General Burnsides, who had succeeded McClellan, now divided his army by corps in three grand divisions—General Sumner, commanding the Right Grand Division, composed of the Second and Ninth Corps; General Hooker, the center, with the Third and Fifth Corps; and General Franklin, the left, with the First and Sixth Corps. So both armies had undergone considerable changes, and were now moving along on converging lines towards a meeting point to test the mettle of the new commanders and organizations.

We remained in camp around Culpepper until the morning of the 18th of November, when the march was resumed, by McLaws taking the road leading to Fredericksburg, headed by General Longstreet in person, and another division south along the line of the railroad in the direction of the North Anna River, the other divisions of the corps remaining stationary, awaiting developments. Jackson had not yet crossed the Blue Ridge, and General Lee was only waiting and watching the move of Burnsides before concentrating his army at any particular place. It was unknown at this time whether the Federal commander would take the route by way of Fredericksburg, or follow in a straight course and make the North Anna his base of operations. The cavalry, making a demonstration against the enemy's outposts, found the Union Army had left and gone in the direction of Fredericksburg. Then Lee began the concentration of his army by calling Jackson on the east side of the Blue Ridge and Longstreet down on the south side of the Rappahannock. We crossed the north fork of the Rappahannock at a rocky ford, two miles above the junction of the Rapidan and just below the railroad bridge, on a cold, blustery day, the water blue and cold as ice itself, coming from the mountain springs of the Blue Ridge, not many miles away. Some of the men took off their shoes and outer garments, while others plunged in just as they marched from the road. Men yelled, cursed, and laughed. Some climbed upon the rocks to allow their feet and legs to warm up in the sun's rays, others held up one foot for awhile, then the other, to allow the air to strike their naked shins and warm them. Oh! it was dreadfully cold, but such fun! [168] The water being about three feet deep, we could easily see the rocks and sands in the bottom. The men who had pulled off their shoes and clothing suffered severely.

There was a man in my company who was as brave and as good a soldier as ever lived, but beyond question the most awkward man in the army. His comrades called him "mucus," as some one said that was the Latin for "calf." This man would fall down any time and anywhere. Standing in the road or resting on his rifle, he would fall—fall while marching, or standing in his tent. I saw him climb on top of a box car and then fall without the least provocation backwards into a ten-foot ditch. But in all his falling he was never known to hurt himself, but invariably blamed somebody for his fall. When he fell from the car, and it standing perfectly still, he only said: "I wish the d——n car would go on or stand still, one or the other." The road leading to the river makes a bend here, and between the bend and river bank an abutment of logs, filled in with stone to the height of fifteen feet, was built to prevent the water from encroaching upon the land. "Mucus," for no cause whatever that anyone could learn, quit the ranks and walked out on this abutment and along down its side, keeping near the edge of the water, but fifteen feet above, when, to the unaccountability of all, he fell headlong down into the river. The water at this point was not more than three or four feet deep, but deep enough to drench him from head to foot. He rose up, and as usual, quick to place the blame, said: "If I knew the d——n man who pushed me off in the water, I'd put a ball in him." No one had been in twenty feet of him. All the consolation he got was "how deep was the water, 'Mucus'?" "Was the water cold?" But awkward as he was, he was quick-witted and good at repartee. He answered the question "how deep was the water?" "Deep enough to drown a d——n fool, if you don't believe it, go down like I did and try it."

When we reached the other side we were told "no use to put on your shoes or clothing, another river one mile ahead," the Rapidan here joining the Rappahannock. Those who had partly disrobed put their clothing under their arms, shoes in their hands, and went hurrying along after the column in advance. These men, with their bare limbs, [169] resembled the Scotch Highlanders in the British Army, but their modesty was put to the test; when about half-way to the other stream they passed a large, old-fashioned Virginia residence, with balconies above and below, and these filled with ladies of the surrounding country, visitors to see the soldiers pass. It was an amusing sight no less to the ladies of the house than to the men, to witness this long line of soldiers rushing by with their coat-tails beating a tattoo on their naked nether limbs. The other stream was not so wide, but equally as cold and deep.

General Kershaw, sitting on his horse at this point, amusing himself at the soldiers' plight, undertook to encourage and soothe their ruffled feelings by giving words of cheer. "Go ahead, boys," remarked the General, "and don't mind this; when I was in Mexico—" "But, General, it wasn't so cold in Mexico, nor did they fight war in winter, and a horse's legs are not so tender as a man's bare shins," were some of the answers given, and all took a merry laugh and went scudding away.

Passing over, we entered the famous Wilderness, soon to be made renowned by the clash of arms, where Lee and Hooker met and shook the surrounding country with the thunder of their guns a few months afterwards, and where Grant made the "echoes ring" and reverberate on the 5th and 6th of May, the year following. We found, too, the "Chancellor House," this lone, large, dismal-looking building standing alone in this Wilderness and surrounded on all sides by an almost impenetrable forest of scrubby oaks and tangled vines. The house was a large, old-fashioned hotel, situated on a cleared plateau, a piazza above and below, reaching around on three sides. It was called "Chancellorsville," but where the "ville" came in, or for what the structure was ever built, I am unable to tell. This place occupied a prominent place in the picture of the Battle of Chancellorsville, being for a time the headquarters of General Hooker, and around which the greater part of his cannon were placed. We took up camp in rear of Fredericksburg, about two miles south of the city.

While here we received into our brigade the Fifteenth South Carolina Regiment, commanded by Colonel DeSaussure, and the Third Battalion, composed of eight companies and commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Rice. [170] As these are new additions, it will be necessary to give a brief sketch of their organization and movements prior to their connection with Kershaw's Brigade.

Soon after the battle of Bull Run or First Manassas, the Richmond Government made a call upon the different States for a new levy to meet the call of President Lincoln for three hundred thousand more troops to put down the Rebellion. The companies that were to compose the Fifteenth Regiment assembled at the old camping ground at Lightwood Knot Spring, three miles above Columbia. They were:

(These names are given from the best information obtainable and may not be exactly correct, but as the fortunes of war soon made radical changes it is of little moment at this late date.) These companies elected for their field officers:

The regiment remained in camp undergoing a thorough course of instruction until Hilton Head, on the coast of South Carolina, was threatened; then the Fifteenth was ordered in the field and hurried to that place, reaching it on the afternoon of the day before the battle of that name. The Fifteenth, with the Third Battalion and other State troops, was placed under the command of Brigadier General Drayton, also of South Carolina, and put in position. The next day, by some indiscretion of General Drayton, or so supposed at that time, the Fifteenth was placed in such position as to be greatly exposed to the heavy fire from the war vessels in the harbor. This caused the loss of some thirty or forty in killed and wounded. The slaughter would have [171] been much greater had it not been for the courage and quick perception of Colonel DeSaussure in maneuvering them into a place of safety. After the battle the regiment lay for some time about Hardeesville and Bluffton doing guard and picket duty, still keeping up their course of daily drills. They were then sent to James Island, and were held in reserve at the battle of Secessionville. After the great Seven Days' Battles around Richmond it and the Third Battalion were ordered to Virginia and placed with a regiment from Alabama and one from Georgia in a brigade under General Drayton. They went into camp below Richmond as a part of a division commanded by Brigadier General D.R. Jones, in the corps commanded by Longstreet. When Lee began his march northward they broke camp on the 13th of August, and followed the lead of Longstreet to Gordonsville, and from thence on to Maryland. They were on the field during the bloody battle of Second Manassas, but not actually engaged, being held in the reserve line on the extreme right. At South Mountain they received their first baptism of fire in a battle with infantry. On the memorable 17th of September at Sharpsburg they were confirmed as veteran soldiers in an additional baptism of blood. However, as yet considered raw and undisciplined troops, they conducted themselves on each of these trying occasions like trained soldiers. Colonel DeSaussure was one of the most gallant and efficient officers that South Carolina ever produced. He was a Mexican War veteran and a born soldier. His attainments were such as fitted him for much higher position in the service than he had yet acquired. Had not the fortunes of war laid him low not many miles distant one year later, he would have shown, no doubt, as one of the brightest stars in the constellation of great Generals that South Carolina ever produced. After the return to Virginia Drayton's Brigade was broken up, and the Fifteenth and Third Battalion were assigned to the brigade of General J.B. Kershaw, and began its service in that organization on the heights of Fredericksburg.