Reminiscences of the Terry Rangers

J. K. P. Blackburn
Southwestern Historical Quarterly
October 1918
Vol. 22, Pg.143-179

Part 2

The army remained at Shelbyville, Tennessee, for some time, then moved on south by way of Tullahoma to Chattanooga and encamped there. Our individual regiment acting as scouts and guards for the rear moved leisurely along after our army, delaying the enemy's movements as far as they might attempt to follow.

After we passed Tullahoma, I don't remember seeing another blue coat until the battle of Chickamauga, which took place in the following September, the 19th and 20th. Our line of march was along the Nashville, Chattanooga and St. Louis Railroad until we reached Chattanooga, and then we were allowed to move down to Rome, Georgia, where we had a much needed rest of two weeks which, with a few days at Woodburn, Kentucky, constituted our entire rest up to this time.

It may be well at this time to mention the fact that while up in Kentucky General Forrest was taken from us and returned to Tennessee to raise a new command of cavalry. He took with him his old regiment and from that time up to the battle of Chickamauga our regiment again acted as an independent command.

After our resting spell we were ordered to rejoin the army. Rosecrans with a large force had compelled General Bragg to retire towards Chickamauga a few miles south of Chattanooga. Here the two armies met in one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War, continuing two days and resulting in a complete victory for the Confederates; but the victory was won at a fearful cost. General Forrest had by this time raised a new command and during this battle he and his men won immortal fame by fighting the enemy on foot and driving them, capturing their artillery and proving to all who were disposed to doubt the effectiveness of cavalry in warfare that they could vie with the infantry in infantry service when called upon. Some one speaking of Forrest's success at Chickamauga said he had glorified the cavalry by showing they could win victories against great odds on foot as well as on horseback.

Our regiment was engaged only twice during the battle and that was when Federal cavalry tried to attack our army from the rear. In one of these attacks we met and defeated the Fourth Ohio Cavalry, mortally wounding their colonel and driving them off, leaving their dead and wounded on the field. We passed back over the field, and the Colonel still living and gasping for breath was sitting with his back against a tree. Some of our boys approached him and said to him, "Well, Colonel, as you will not need your hat or boots any longer, we beg the privilege of exchanging with you," and as the Colonel could not reply, the boys concluded that silence gives consent, and proceeded to make the exchange.

For the balance of the time our duties kept us policing and guarding during that battle rather than fighting. The Federal army returned to Chattanooga and our army took position near there on Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain, where other battles occurred later on. Our regiment moved up on the Tennessee river, where we picketed on the river. On the opposite side at the time was the Fourth Ohio Cavalry also on picket duty. The pickets talked to each other across the stream and found out they were somewhat acquainted from personal contact at Chickamauga and some other point which I cannot recall; also feeling there should be no animosity existing between men who had faced each other in battle, they arranged for a truce, a suspension of hostilities until they could have a swim, a few yarns, swap tobacco for coffee, exchange newspapers and have a good time generally. A Yank said to Johnnie Reb,--these were the endearing names we were accustomed to give each other, "Where is Old Ironsides (our Colonel) today ?" "At camp," says Johnnie Reb, "Where is Colonel So-and-so?" (calling by name the colonel of the Fourth Ohio) "Oh the devil, you know where we left him over at Chickamauga," was the answer. These truces were common in all parts of the army when it could be arranged without a commissioned officer being present. They could not afford to participate because of position and commission. I believed then, and I still believe now, if the terms of peace had been left to the men who faced each other in battle day after day, they would have stopped the war at once on terms acceptable to both sides (except the civil rulers) and honorable to all alike. These men that always bore the brunt of battle never had and never will have any bad feelings towards each other.

Some time in October news reached us that one hundred wagons, loaded with provisions for Rosecrans army had started from Nashville to Chattanooga to feed his army. Provisions had become very scarce, and the railroad was torn up so they could get nothing over it. Hence it was necessary for them to use wagons to transport their supplies. A brigade of cavalry was organized at once consisting of the 8th Texas, which was our regiment, the 11th Texas, 3rd Arkansas, and 4th Tennessee regiments and placed under command of General Joe Wheeler. General Forrest was ordered to turn over his command to General Wheeler. This order aroused the wrath of Forrest, who contended that he should be in chief command. General Wheeler started on a raid through middle Tennessee to capture and destroy that wagon train and to do the enemy any damage he could otherwise.¹⁴ We met the wagon train in Sequachie Valley, all loaded heavily, with four good mules to each wagon. We burned the train, while the guards with the train deserted it for safety in the mountains close by.

We killed most of the mules, amounting to hundreds, only saving a few to take the places of some wornout horses in our commands and other needs we might have on the trip, such as substitutes for ambulance work and for artillery service when it became necessary to make such changes. This destruction of the train was a great waste of food and other army supplies, but we felt it was but just punishment for the invaders and destroyers of our country. We moved into middle Tennessee.

By the time we reached Warren County, General Mitchell (author of Mitchell's Geography) had gathered an army of mounted infantry and was in pursuit of us. Once upon the mountains, Colonel Harrison had to form a line of battle and show fight to protect our rear guard who had been run into by the Federals. We stood in line some time for them to come in sight so we could charge them, but instead of coming on they stayed back in some bushes and ran up a battery of their guns and began to shell us pretty heavily. I was in command of Company F and while sitting on my horse in front of my company I noticed most of the shells were coming or seeming to come over my company and the shots were getting lower every time. I looked for a reason and found that four of the men were riding white horses and had accidentally gotten bunched together in the line; this affording a fine target for the enemy's guns, so I ordered one of these men to go quickly and ask permission of Colonel Harrison for me to dismount my men. I had ordered him to go quickly and he galloped or run his horse up to head or right of regiment (my company being in left of same). In less time than it takes to write this my man returned and said "Colonel Harrison says 'No. Keep your men on their horses.'" I called at once, "Attention, Company F; dismount, lie down flat on the ground and hold your bridle reins in your hand." Just as the order was obeyed, a shell struck one of these white horses in the breast, tearing off his shoulder and doubtless would have taken off the leg of the rider if he had been on him. I had thus disobeyed orders, which is always dangerous and is condemned by the authorities on military tactics, but I found consolation in the fact that I had saved the life that would have been uselessly sacrificed, as I looked at it. Soon an order came from General Wheeler for us to fall back. Our loss was only one man killed in Company C, and some horses. This man might have been saved if Company C had been dismounted as was Company F.

The enemy didn't trouble us much more after this until we reached Farmington, in Marshall County, Tennessee. We had passed through Shelbyville the previous day and as Northern merchants had come into that town with an abundance of all kinds of merchandise, groceries, including liquors, wares, etc., our men considered that those goods were contraband, since they belonged to army followers, and they helped themselves liberally to such things as they thought they needed; the officers only forbidding the taking of whiskey. But most of the soldiers managed to get some in their canteens to take with them for future emergencies; so the next day the rear guard, imbibing too freely, got on a spree and while they were having the time of their lives the Federal mounted infantry ran into them, captured and scattered the whole guard and closed upon the moving column of General Wheeler's army, so that he had to give battle at Farmington to protect himself. General Wheeler unlimbered his artillery near the pike and commenced a rapid fire. The enemy replied in kind with several guns. While this artillery firing was going on a courier was sent for us who were four or five miles north of Farmington near Duck river. The order was to come to Farmington double quick, which meant a gallop all the way. The enemy had moved a regiment in a column of two or double ranks close order up to within 250 yards of General Wheeler's battery and parallel to the pike and they were armed with Spencer rifles as we learned later on. This movement was being made on foot, notwithstanding they were mounted men. Their horses had been left in the rear. Company F was in front that day at the head of the column of regiment and I was commanding the company. As we approached General Wheeler, he gave an order to our Colonel who was riding by my side to "form fours, move up the pike until you draw fire of the enemy, then charge them."

There was a drizzle of rain, the smoke from the artillery was lowering, and the enemy were obscured from our view until we were probably 75 yards from them. The enemy on our approach had formed along parallel the pike on the west side of it and fired a volley from their whole line into our columns of four, aiming at the sound of our horses' feet, for we were still obscured from their view by the smoke, but that volley found victims all the way down the regiment, striking every horse excepting one at the head of the column and about a dozen men in Company F. When that volley was fired Colonel Harrison ordered me to lead the charge; and with a yell, answered by many still unhurt along the column, I shouted as loud as I could, "Charge them, Rangers!" Colonel Harrison dropped out to one side and as the other companies came rushing on he would say to them, "Follow Blackburn." The yell and the rattle and roar of horses feet on the pike was too much for the enemy's nerves and they broke bank up the pike. A high cedar rail fence along the pike on the side they were on kept them from scattering out far that way, and so they ran back like frightened sheep until they seemed to be twenty or more deep when we reached them and still pressing back away from us. When I had gone along the side of this fleeing mass as far as any one seemed to be following me, I turned into the fleeing column with my six-shooter with all of the energy and expedition I could.

As I passed a small elm tree not more than four inches in diameter I think, where a few men, four or five, had stopped for protection, one of them put his gun within a few inches of my left thigh and fired. I saw the gun just as it fired, but not in time to knock it down. The bullet passed through both of my thighs, cutting a branch artery and fracturing the bone in my right limb, and as the bone did not break the ball glanced and came out on top of my leg. The blood from the artery followed, spurting for a short time. I had fired three or four shots up to this time at close range that enabled me to reach the men crowding against me, but when I saw the flow of blood following that wound I had no inclination to continue the performance, so I turned my horse to ride to the rear. As I turned I found my Sergeant, Ledbetter, at my side engaged in the same game I was leaving, but before my horse could get a start the Sergeant's horse was killed and fell suddenly, falling against my horse, nearly knocking him down with his fall. I saw Ledbetter was fastened under his horse, his foot having been caught under him. I rode to the rear.

Just at this juncture another enemy regiment came up on the right side and fired a volley into our regiment, which began to retire slowly and in order. I rode on through the village and on to a little creek nearby, where I found four of my men whose horses had been killed by the first volley of the enemy as we had charged. They had retired there for safety after being dismounted so unceremoniously. When I reached them my horse began to stagger and seeing he was going to fall I asked my men to take me off of him and by the time they had placed me on a blanket on the ground my steed fell dead with six bullets in his body, any one of which would have proven fatal, so my men reported. Noble steed, he had been with me in many battles, but this was his last one and I will say it was also my last battle, for I was a prisoner of war on parole of honor for the balance of the time.

The battle of Farmington was now over and the enemy held the field, but attempted no pursuit. Other Confederate commands had been fighting there before we came into the fray, but had yielded to the onslaught of superior numbers. I do not know the losses on either side, but I saw an account of the battle of Farmington a few days afterwards in a Northern paper which reported Wheeler's losses at 300 killed and wounded and Mitchell's losses at 180 killed and wounded. I know that was an exaggerated report so far as our losses were concerned and rather think it was concerning Mitchell's losses.

A just criticism of the regiment of soldiers we charged that day might be penned here. Situated and formed as they were so that their entire fire could be concentrated on the pike, and armed as they were with repeating rifles, they missed an opportunity that rarely comes to a command in warfare to annihilate a whole regiment of their antagonists by standing their ground and firing their guns already loaded in hand; for fourteen volleys well aimed as the first one would have destroyed our command without a loss of one of their own men. But their cowardly feet took them away and lost to them this opportunity.

Three or four men left on the field were taken in by the citizens close by, of whom I now call to mind, Steve and Dick Jarmon, and George Chandler. Ledbetter made his escape from under his horse in a miraculous manner. He said afterwards that he tried his best to pull his foot from under the horse, but as he had a new cavalry boot on that foot and that tied with a stout leather string above his knee as was the custom he decided that it couldn't be done; so he continued to shoot at this new command approaching from the east side of turnpike with his pistol, thinking he could surrender to them after his pistol was emptied. As the enemy drew nearer they discovered he was a red headed man and ordered him in a most indecent way to surrender "a red headed ————————." They continued to fire at him, seeing he was not obeying their orders, when one of their balls struck him between the second and third fingers of his left hand, going through his hand and arm up to the elbow and coming out there. He said the pain seemed to give him the strength of a giant and with another trial he brought out his foot, leaving his boot under the dead horse. He rose and broke to run. W. H. Harris, another member of Company F as he slowly retired to the rear, turned his horse, and galloped back and met him. Ledbetter sprang on the horse behind Harris and rode away in a gallop out of danger. In the meantime the enemy beholding the daring feat quit firing and cheered Harris for his brave act which saved a wounded comrade.

After my horse's death I turned over my pistols, saddle, bridle, blanket, etc., and another horse I had back with the baggage wagon to Sam Street one of Company F and asked him to take care of them for me. I was placed on a blanket and carried by four comrades to the rear to get beyond reach of the bullets which were still falling around us from the enemy's guns. As we moved along bunched up that way the enemy would fire at us, for we made a good target for them. I could hear the balls striking the ground around us and begged my men to leave me there and save themselves. They refused and said if I could stand if they could, and took me on and out of reach of the enemy's fire (for they did not follow us up) and found an ambulance, put me in that and carried me on about six miles further to Lewisburg, Tennessee. Here they left me in the house of Mr. McKnight, who with his wife lived alone, both of them well advanced in years, but both as good and kind as possible for most people to be. Our surgeon had made only a casual examination of me, had given me a dose of morphine and a glass of brandy when I was first taken off my horse, and then went on to the other wounded, without seeming to realize I was bleeding so profusely as to endanger my life. But when we reached Lewisburg, I was so exhausted from loss of blood that Dr. McClure. a local physician there who looked at me, told my attendants it was necessary to leave me there if they expected to save my life. So I was left there so weakened that I could not raise my head from my pillow.

That night Wheeler's command moved on southward five or six miles and camped. Next day about nine o'clock General Mitchell's army came into Lewisburg and halted there for some hours and while there his surgeon busied himself looking up the wounded who had been able to get that far from the battlefield, of whom there were several. When he came in to see me he examined me pretty closely and said "This right thigh has a fracture and must be taken off at the hip joint." I uttered my protest with all the strength I could command and said, "No, it will not be taken off." He replied, "It will kill you if left on." I said, "Let it kill me." He replied, "If you are fool enough to risk it, it is all right with me." I said, "I am fool enough to risk it, for when that leg goes to the grave I am going with it." He asked my rank, I think, and left.

Pretty soon Mitchell's Adjutant General came in. He said he came over to parole me by Mitchell's order. I said, "Read me the terms and conditions of parole." He read, "Pledge your honor never to fight any more against the United States forces until you are duly exchanged. You report to the nearest United States forces as soon as you are able to walk. Will you sign it and keep it?" he asked. I said, "I will," so he handed me the paper and pen and I signed, lying flat on my back. Of all the wounded left there at Farmington I was the only one paroled that I heard of.

My men left at Farmington were kindly cared for by the citizens and were constantly watched and movements reported to Federal authorities by Union men who were to be found in many sections, now that the Union forces had possession of the State. These Union men sympathized generally with the Yankees, and wished them success. Before these men of Company F were supposed to be able to travel they escaped south by the aid of some secret scouts who were operating in the State in behalf of Southern leaders. Steve Jarmon the worst wounded one was put on a lounge or pallet on a mule's back and tied on and transported in that way south to his company, while the others rode horseback by his side to their destination. Steve recovered sufficiently for light service and remained to the end, but never got well and died from the effects of his wound many years after the war closed, so his wife afterwards told me. I recall a few names of the killed and wounded outside of my company in the battle of Farmington. John Martin Lane of Company A was killed. He had a sister living in Pulaski, Tennessee, who came for the body and buried it at Brick Church, the former burying ground of his family. A. G. Love of Company C, I think, was killed and buried there. Some of his kinsfolk living at Culleoka came for his body, exhumed it, and buried it at Culleoka, Tennessee. Lieutenant Hunter was killed there and buried there. I think he belonged to Company H. Major A. P. Christian was shot in the mouth and several jaw teeth knocked out, and the bullet came out under his right ear. Jones, of Company A, was shot in the head, but not fatally wounded. About fourteen soldiers killed there were buried in one grave by the citizens of the neighborhood, and they erected a monument over them, or for them since the war. This battle was fought on October 7, 1863.

Dr. R. H. Bunting was chaplain of our regiment and besides preaching and praying for us, one part of his work was to look after the mails--to send them out, receive them, and distribute them properly to the right parties. He also wrote regularly to the "Houston Telegraph" a letter to be published in that paper for information of our friends at home. This paper was published at Houston, Texas, and had a wide circulation in the State. In speaking of the battle of Farmington and its casualties in our regiment he wrote: "And the noble Blackburn fell at the head of the column, leading a charge upon the enemy." He never mentioned--and did not at the time he wrote know-- whether I lived or died. My mother saw that news in the paper as soon as it arrived and after sitting some time in silence and agony of spirit she remarked to those present, "Well, if he had to fall, I am glad he fell at the head of the column, charging the enemy of his country." My sister who was present at the time told me of this remark, showing the patriotic resignation of our dear mother.

Let no one conclude that I or Company F was selected because of our fitness for the undertaking to lead and make this particular charge and to gain this honor, for many other companies in the regiment could have done equally well or better. It was a mere chance that we were at the front, as you will readily see when I explain to you that the companies on the march alternated in service at the front, taking the place in regular rotation one day at the front, next day in the rear, allowing next company to be front and so on until every company had taken its turn at the front. All scouts, messengers, and pickets were selected from front company each day, hence the necessity of changing and alternating regularly from day to day. This day of battle was Company F's day at the front, and as I was in command of the company this honor of leading the charge and bearing the brunt of the battle was thrust upon us.

My experiences as a prisoner of war were for the most part very agreeable and satisfactory during the time I remained in middle Tennessee, which was about one year. I was feasted by the neighbors in the town and good people from the country would send in town and take me out to the country for a week at a time as soon as I began to hobble around on my crutches. The young people insisted on my attending all the little gatherings they had, and as there were many nice young ladies on every side it was quite a pleasant existence for me.

After about four months' time when I knew I must soon face the ordeal required by one condition of my parole--to report to the United States forces as soon as I was able--I began to make preparations for it. First I asked Esquire Reed, a strong Union man living in Lewisburg and a man of influence with the Yankees, and a Mr. Idol Henderson, living at Cornersville a few miles away, with like qualifications, if they would accompany me when I went to make my report to the Yankees at Nance's Mills, just south of Cornersville, about one mile distant from there. They both consented very readily to do so. They had both been to see me and made my acquaintance and seemed to like me and sympathize with me, and I had an impression that they might be able to keep me out of prison for a while at least, because I knew that clause was intended to make me take the oath of allegiance to the United States Government or go to prison as soon as I could travel. So I set the day before I could walk without crutches. Esquire Reed took me in his buggy and Mr. Henderson was to meet us at Major Evans's headquarters, who was in charge of Federal forces at that place. He was using Nance's Flouring Mills to supply the Federal army at different points in the State with flour and had a battalion of men, maybe more, about him for protection. We found Major Evans to be quite a nice man and a gentleman of quiet and friendly disposition.

We went in his office, and I presented my parole to him and told him I had come in to comply with condition of parole, and while I was not yet able to walk without my crutches still I was able to report. Major Evans in a most jovial and affable manner said, "Why certainly, now let me administer the oath of allegiance to the United States Government to you, and as this country is full of pretty girls and a good country to live in, you can have the finest time a young man ever had anywhere." I shook my head and said, "No, I cannot do that." Then with a saddened expression of face at my refusal he said, "It becomes my duty to send you to prison." Up to this time my companions had not spoken, and I did not know what their plans were, for I had not discussed any plan with them, only asked them to accompany me. They said, or one of them said, "Major, we would like a private conference with you in the other room." The office was a two-roomed cottage with a stack chimney in the middle, with doors and shutters between rooms. For half an hour or more they consulted, leaving me alone with my thoughts. After a while they came in and Major Evans addressing me said, "Your friends seem to have much confidence in you." I said, "I am thankful, gentlemen." He continued, "They proposed if I would let you stay in the neighborhood that they would go on your bond for $10,000 for your good behavior, and I have concluded to accept their proposition." I said, "Many thanks, gentlemen, to you all." The Major continuing said, "The terms are agreed on. Who will write out the bond? Can you?" I said, "I never did write one and I had rather not undertake it." He then asked my two friends and his Adjutant too, I think. All asked to be excused and he said he didn't know how to do it himself, and seeming to be at a loss as to what he should do he turned to me and said, "If I release you on your parole without bond will you pledge your honor to behave yourself and abide by the other condition in said parole?" I said, "I surely will." He said, "Will you promise to report to me once a week so I may keep track of you and find you when I have to?" I said, "Yes, if you will allow a written report instead of a verbal one, as I have no means of transportation." So the agreement was made and I returned to my home at the McKnights at Lewisburg with a thankful heart, for I always had a mortal dread of prison life. This arrangement was satisfactory to the Federals and my parole protected me from molestation from the many passing commands I would see or meet almost daily.

I stayed at Lewisburg until some time in March, I think. I had made the acquaintance of a young Presbyterian preacher named Ewing, at whose mother's house I had been a guest a time or two. He had a monthly appointment to preach at Brick Church, about fourteen miles south of Lewisburg, and asked me one time to accompany him down there. I accepted the invitation on condition I could get permission from Major Evans to do so. His route was right by Evans's camps, and I started with the hope that Major Evans would not object. He readily consented and I made arrangements to teach a little country school down in that neighborhood, where the people were trying to get up one. At Mr. Ewing's next appointment down there I went, carrying my scant wardrobe with me, bidding adieu to many kind friends at Lewisburg, whom I had become very fond of. I kept up my reporting to Major Evans on and on until some time in the fall.

General G. M. Dodge with a large force of Federals came to Pulaski, Giles County, and remained a while and was ordered from there on to Chattanooga, and took all of the troops from that section with him, including Major Evans, and his command. It was said that the Major and his crowd got on a big drunk when they left that section. I know not how it was, but I do know that he went off without leaving me any orders, and now having no one to watch me I thought somewhat of my chances of going South and getting to my command and seeking a private exchange so I could take my place in my company. But the long trip seemed to be too much for me with one of my limbs still weak from the wound.

My school closed for a three month's term, and another one was offered me. I continued to teach for a while. One Sunday Doctor Gordon and I went to Cornersville to church to hear Dr. Stoddart of the Presbyterian Church preach. On our return home we met General John C. Starkweather, who had taken General Dodge's place at Pulaski, on the pike with one or two regiments of cavalry, making a reconnoisance up towards Cornersville. He immediately arrested us, made us turn back and escorted us and several other prisoners he had arrested back to town and to Esquire Chafin's office. He inquired of Chafin if he was a magistrate there and being told he was, he ordered him to enroll everyone of these men in the State militia as required by the proclamation of the Military Governor of Tennessee, Andrew Johnson, and then left us under a strong guard while the magistrate should enroll us in the service to help to repel an expected invasion of the rebels from the South. I had made the acquaintance of a Mr. McBride who had deserted from a Texas regiment, joined the Yankees in that section and was acting as pilot or guide for Federal scouting parties who might need such help, and while I never saw him or knew him before, yet he seemed to take some interest in me, probably because we came from the same State.

Not long after we were put under guard. Mr. Stoddart the preacher came to me, asking the guard the privilege of speaking to me, and said in a very low tone of voice, "McBride says, 'What are you going to do?'" I replied in the same tone, "Tell him I am not going to enlist in the State militia." That ended our conference and he withdrew. A little later Stoddart returned and said, "McBride says for you to ask for a guard to take you before General Starkweather and when you get there you show the General your parole, telling him who you are and he will excuse you from the enlistment, he thinks." So I asked for the guard and he marched me up to the General's headquarters, holding a gun with bayonet on it in his hands behind my back all the way.

When I reached there, the General had just had a good dinner and plenty to drink and was enjoying himself talking and chatting with members of his staff. I pulled my hat off, walked in front of the General, saluted with a military salute, and stood before his majesty. He stopped talking, returned the salute, and waited to see what I would do. I told him I was a Confederate soldier on parole, was one of the men he had arrested and left with Esquire Chafin to be enrolled in the State militia and I had come to tell him that I would not be enlisted and asked the protection my parole guaranteed me. He asked for my parole and I showed it to him, and after a little consideration he said if I would report to him at Pulaski the following Wednesday he would release me and let me return home. I told him I would if there were no providential hindrances. So he dismissed my guard and gave me a pass to go home. When Wednesday came I asked Mr. Henderson to accompany me and he consented and I asked Mr. Lonnie Gordon to take me down and we three drove to Pulaski, went to General Starkweather's headquarters over on East Hill in Judge T. M. Jones' residence, and I presented myself before him saluting him. He didn't recognize me at first and I explained, "You arrested me last Sunday near Cornersville and released me with the injunction to report to you today and I am here according to promise." He still seemed in doubt. He pulled a memorandum book from his pocket, turned his back to me to get a better light on his book and began to look over a list of names he had on it. He commenced at the top running his finger along slowly--and said when half way down, "You say your name is Blackburn?" I answered, "Yes." He folded his book and remarked, "Major Alman gave me this list--a list of Confederates for me to look after." Major Alman, it is needless to say, was one of those Southerners who played both sides; always trying to curry favor with whomsoever controlled his section. Turning to me, he said, "Won't you take the oath of allegiance to the United States government?" I answered, "No." He asked why. I answered, "I cannot swallow it and besides I owe allegiance to another government." He then said, "It is my duty to send you to a Northern prison." At this juncture my good friend, Henderson, asked for a private interview with the General. These two retired to another room and were absent for some time. When they came back I caught Henderson's eye and he slightly shook his head. I knew before the General told me that there was no hope in sight for me to escape the prison.

The General said my friend was good enough to offer to stand for me, but he couldn't be bothered with such things, and he would do his duty and send me on to prison. I said, "All right, but, General, it seems a long trip to make and a cold place to lodge for a man without a cent of money in his pocket." He agreed that this was true. I said, "General, I have one request to make of you." He said, "Say on." I said, "I have been teaching a little school where I live and I would like to have a few days before I start for prison to make some collections so I will not have to go without any money at all." He said, "If I will let you off for a week, will you report to me here at Pulaski next Wednesday ?" I promised I would if the Lord was willing. He ordered his Adjutant General to give me and my two friends passes so we could go home, and this was the last time I saw General Starkweather, for before the next Wednesday came he obtained a furlough for sixty days and went up to his home in Ohio for a rest and recuperation. I hadn't promised to report to anyone except General Starkweather at Pulaski, so when the next Wednesday came I remained at home and didn't try to find him. By the time he returned from home, General Forrest who had taken Athens, Alabama, with about two thousand prisoners was marching up the railroad towards Pulaski, taking all the Yankee forces from stockades along the route and was now ready to lay siege to or capture Pulaski; and Starkweather was kept too busy to think of me. I knew he had returned, but as the time for my reporting to him at Pulaski had long since passed and no new date had been fixed for the report I simply didn't seek to have another day set for our meeting, and remained at home.

General Forrest after shelling Pulaski for a while didn't deem it prudent to make an attack there on account of the strong fortifications; then retired south and joined General Hood, now approaching Tennessee with his whole army. As the Southern army came in the State Federal forces in the southern portion of the State retired before it and pretty soon. Giles County was under control of the Confederate soldiers and I was again in the hands of my friends. I reported at once to General Hood, gave him account of my history as a prisoner, showed him my parole and asked him if he could arrange for my exchange so that I might enter the service again. He replied that he had a camp at Columbus, Georgia, where he made private exchanges of prisoners with the enemy, and he would furnish me with papers and transportation to that point, which would enable me to get the desired exchange. So he issued the necessary papers of instructions and orders for transportation on railway and for use of soup stands for my benefit, and taking the papers I returned home to make preparation for my trip. I purchased a fine mare from Dr. Gordon which he had bought to use in his profession, but found he would be unable to keep her from the raiding cavalry-men passing, often looking for and taking all the best horses wherever they found them. He was very willing to sell her to me for $125.00, taking my note for same. My intention was to get in as good shape as possible and to make the trip on horseback to Columbus, Georgia, and when I got the exchange I would be mounted and ready for service.

While I was getting ready for the trip, General Hood pushed on to Franklin, Tennessee, and had one-third of his army slaughtered there, but held the battlefield and followed the Federal army on to Nashville, where he was defeated by the Federals, they being reinforced by another army.¹⁵ Before I was fully equipped for my journey General Hood was falling back south with his army. So I delayed my start south, to see if I would have company for my trip. A few days more passed and Hood's army was passing through Giles County going south. I fell in with the rear, far enough from the extreme rear to be out of reach of the continuous fire the Federals kept up on the rear guard of that retreating army.

The weather was extremely cold, many of Hood's army were entirely barefooted and ragged, and some of them wounded at Franklin were trudging along, making their way south to avoid capture and imprisonment. I never saw an army so dispirited, so needy, and withal so determined not to give up the contest. I had read of Washington's army at Valley Forge, barefooted and leaving a trail of blood as they marched over frozen ground, and I said within myself, "History is repeating itself before my very eyes." I traveled on and on and fell in with two more horsemen going southward and after dark came we looked for a place to stop for the night. I suggested that we get off of the main road for fear that some of these barefooted soldiers might find and borrow our horses while we slept. We turned east and went one-half mile from the main road, found a house where lived a family by the name of Marbutt and soon we were made welcome and comfortable by being housed and fed and having our horses fed and fine prospects for a good bed and a fine night's rest. Our horses were put in the smokehouse very near the house so that they would be safer than at the barn if anyone should undertake to steal them in the night, for there was much of that being done at this time. This was not very far from the Alabama state line, in Giles County, Tennessee.

Next morning on rising early I went to the smokehouse and found two of the horses gone, mine being one of them. Our saddles and bridles were undisturbed. We tried to trace them by following their tracks, but they had gone to the main traveled roads which were covered by millions of tracks of a passing army, so we had to abandon the search. I felt sure mine had been taken by some brokendown infantryman, who would think it fair to make me take turns with him in walking.

After our morning's search for horses had proven fruitless my two companions, one with a brokendown horse and outfit, the other one with outfit and no horse at all started out together to follow the retreating army, and I never saw them again. I was left alone at Mr. Marbutt's to consider my best course to pursue. I learned from some of the family, or by observation I don't know which, that there was a blind horse there in the barn, so I asked Mr. Marbutt if I could buy him. He said he was blind and didn't see how he would suit me, or really how he could do without him, but if I could raise thirty dollars good money, I might take him. So I looked over my finances and found I was short two and half dollars. So I told Mr. Marbutt I had only $27.50 and would give up every cent of it for his horse. He said it was a trade so I handed him the money and took my bridle, saddle, and blanket, and put on him and took possession. He was four years old, good size, in fair condition, quite active, and not a blemish or defect except he was totally blind. I rode him all day following the retreating army until late in the evening, when I began to look out for a lodging place for the night. Houses were scarce and what there were in that section were mostly vacant. It was fearfully cold and I felt that I must be inside of some house or suffer greatly with the cold. I saw smoke coming out of the top of a cabin about one hundred yards from the road, and I rode up to it to learn the chances of being sheltered for the night. I found five or six infantry soldiers had taken possession of the cabin, which was empty, had torn up the floor in the middle of the same, made a fire down in the ground underneath, and were warming themselves, sitting on the floor with feet down over the fire. I asked permission to join them for the night. They readily consented and I remained with them until morning, tying my horse to the log house on the south side to protect him from the cold, and he and I passed the night without supper and next morning without breakfast.

The lady with whom I had boarded in Tennessee had fixed many things for my comfort and protection from the cold. Among other things a pair of heavy woolen socks to wear over my boots instead of overshoes, which were impossible to procure at that time. When we were dressing next morning, getting ready to move, a soldier remarked it looked hard to him to see a man with two pair of socks when he had none at all. I looked over the crowd a little hit and I saw they were all practically barefooted, so without a word in reply I stripped off these oversocks I had on, and handed them to the one speaking and said, "Gentlemen, I regret that I have not a pair for each of you." Next day I continued my journey south and coming to the Tennessee river late in the evening, I crossed over on a pontoon bridge prepared for use of the army. The following night I fell in with some cavalry of the 11th Tennessee regiment, the same being Captain Andrew Gordon's company, then commanded by Lieutenant James Edmundson, now living in Marshall County, Tennessee, about four miles east of Lynnville. I had been staying in the same neighborhood where many of this company were raised, and knew their families and kinfolks, so they made me entirely welcome and shared provisions and horse feed with me, making me as comfortable as they could. And now day after day I journeyed with the army southward, keeping a sharp lookout for my valuable black mare, but without success, finally reaching Columbus, Mississippi, where the army entrained for the East.

The exposure I had endured and change of diet and climate and habits, brought on an illness that kept me laid up for some days, when I found I had to go to bed for an indefinite period. I went out of town to a country doctor with a small family, with plenty of the world's goods and fair practice, who had been recommended to me, and applied to him, for treatment and lodging for myself and board for my horse. He kindly took me in and cared for me for some days until I felt myself able to travel again. Then I told the doctor and family I must be off for Columbus, Georgia, my objective point; that they had been wonderfully kind to me, which I greatly appreciated, and that I didn't have a cent of money with which to pay them, but that I had a good blind horse there, saddle, bridle, and blanket, all of which I would give them to pay for the care, treatment, and lodging they have given me. The doctor said that would satisfy him, and so we settled the debt and we parted good friends and everybody satisfied.

But I was completely strapped, only having now a little bundle of underclothing and a pistol, which a friend up in Tennessee had given me, and my journey was hardly begun. But I went cheerfully forward, thinking "A bad start may have a good ending." The Confederate government had established soup houses at convenient distances on the railroads to feed the soldiers in transit--I suppose for this particular army movement but I don't know. At any rate the train would stop two or three times each day for meals furnished free to soldiers. The meals were nearly entirely soup, pea soup or some other kind of vegetable in season at that time of year.

Nothing of especial interest happened until we reached Columbus, Georgia, after two or three days' travel. As soon as we pulled into the depot I asked the direction and road to the exchange camp, and with all the haste and speed I could muster, walked out to it, about one and one-half miles from town. When I reached there I found the place very well provided with shelter, bunks to sleep in with long dining tables and other things for taking care of prisoners, but entirely deserted except for a colored woman who was employed by the military authorities to cook for prisoners who were being kept for exchange. The cook announced to me at once that the prisoners were all exchanged and had gone and she was remaining there for a time to see if any more would be sent in. This was a sore disappointment indeed for me who had so constantly expected an exchange and freedom from further obligations imposed by my parole of honor.

I returned at once to town and hunted up the commandant of the post. At this stage of the Civil War the authorities had appointed at every principal city in the South a commandant of the post, and the whole country was under martial law and each particular section under the military control of the local commandant. I showed my papers, my parole and papers from General Hood, and told him of my disappointment. He expressed his regret and seemed to sympathized with me. We talked over current events for a while and the gloomy prospects of our army's success at that juncture, and after awhile he asked me what I wanted to do. I told him without hesitation and frankly I wanted to go to my command if he could tell me where to find it and could give me transportation. He replied, "Your command is now north of Savannah, Georgia, across the river in South Carolina, confronting General Sherman's army, which is getting ready to move up through South Carolina for her destruction, and if you want to go I will give you transportation wherever we have any. The railroads are torn up some places and you will have to do the best you can over those skips where there are no cars running."

So I made another start eastward on a train and I don't recall just how far we traveled before we had to walk. Another straggling soldier or two had fallen in with me by this time, all trying to reach their command further east, and they walked with me for miles, ten or fifteen or more. Now a new trouble overtook me. One of my wounded limbs having not gotten sufficiently strong for the journey began to fail and I had to let my late companions in travel leave me alone, so I rested and limped on and on as well as I could until I passed over the gap. The soup houses had given out now, and I had to depend upon strangers in a strange land for support.

One night I stayed in a neatly built log house,two or three women and some children living there alone. I remember they used what they called "light'ud" for illuminating purposes. They seemed to have plenty of plain food to live on and some to spare. I recall a conversation occurring at the table at supper. The lady of the house asked me where I was from. I told her "Texas." She said, "Well, well, from the far Texas." I said "Yes." She replied that she always thought she would like to live in Texas. After a little silence she asked me if we had any "light'ud" there. I said not in the section where I lived, but in other sections there was plenty of it. She remarked she would not live in any country where there was no light wood.

Now my journey was one of variations, sometimes on a railroad, sometimes on a wagon going my way, and sometimes afoot; but I continued with a firm set purpose to reach my command and finally succeeded in doing so, somewhere in the southern part of the State of South Carolina. My comrades rejoiced at my return to them. They were all so blackened by pine smoke it was difficult to recognize them. My heart ached when I inquired for many with whom I soldiered in former times, when the response would be dead, or disabled from wounds, or disease and discharge. My comrade Street, with whom I left in charge my $250 mare, my saddle, blanket, spurs and pistols had been killed on a hazardous scout and my belongings had fallen into the hands of the enemy when he fell. Many changes had taken place. Officers to fill vacancies caused by death, discharge or promotion were no longer elected by the men, but went up by virtue of seniority of rank. My old captain bad been promoted to be major of the regiment, leaving the captaincy in the company vacant, and awaiting my return to fill it, as I was next in rank in the company. The second lientenant, A. J. Murray, was in command of the company.

I reported my arrival to Generals Wheeler and Hampton, then commanding all the cavalry forces in South Carolina, showed them my parole of honor and gave them the details of my efforts to get exchanged and of my travels. They commended me for abiding by the terms of my parole and told me to remain with my company and they would arrange for a private exchange for me, so I could take charge of my company again.

Now commenced with me a new experience in my life. There were no wagons now belonging to the cavalry to carry their cooking utensils and camp equipage and to afford a safe refuge for the non-combatants as formerly, but each company had a pack mule upon which was carried the frying pans for the company and a soldier or a negro cook to lead the mule during the day, following the company constantly except when engaged in battle. An oil cloth was used instead of bread trays, and a flat rail or board used for the baker, and when a rail or board was not available a limb cut from any tree was trimmed up and held over the fire with dough wound around it to cook. The potatoes, the only abundant article of food to be had, were roasted in the fire. I ate and slept with the company, and when the battle came on I was herded with this frying-pan lead-horse crowd until the firing ceased. This was the most disagreeable experience I had during the war. I urged the officers to hasten the exchange if possible, and so they offered to exchange a major of Kilpatrick's staff for me; but General Sherman refused to do it when he learned what command I belonged to, remarking, as I heard, if he had any one of that command fastened he would not release him for anyone, and so I had another disappointment. Now it is proper and fair to tell why General Sherman should refuse to swap a Texas Ranger for one of his own men of higher rank.

Captain Shannon had become chief of scouts for the Southern army, and he and his command were Texas Rangers, or most of them were, and were known as Texas Ranger scouts; and they became quite efficient in killing Yankees without capturing any they found burning houses or insulting women, which was the daily habit of Sherman's men as they marched through South Carolina with torch, rapine and devilish lust. General Sherman in retaliation for what the Texas Rangers were doing and had done put sixty prisoners in irons and threatened to execute them. General Hampton heard of this threat, sent a flag of truce to Sherman for a conference with a view of saving the lives of those prisoners in irons. General Sherman complained that the acts of these Rangers were not in accordance with the rule of international warfare, but uncivilized butchering. General Hampton's reply, as I now remember the published reports of the conference at the time, was that he had observed all rules of international or honorable warfare, but when his antagonists engaged in burning down the houses over the heads of women and children, and non-combatants, without provocation, and in insulting and raping the helpless women of the land, he would order his men in all such cases to kill without mercy everyone so engaged and if he wished to retaliate by executing prisoners, he (Hampton) would enter the same game, taking two of Sherman's men for every one Sherman executed and in every case giving his (Sherman's) officers the preference.¹⁶ General Sherman saw his bluff could not be carried out for the reason, perhaps, that twice or three times as many Yankee prisoners were captured daily as were taken from the Confederates, for our scouts were exceedingly active, being on all sides of the enemy almost daily, while the Federals were straggling all out from the main body, trying to desolate South Carolina, because they regarded her as exceedingly wicked in being the first State to secede from the Union. The irons were promptly removed from the prisoners and they were sent in to our camps without the formality of exchange. These poor fellows came into the camps full of wrath against the Rangers for their murderous acts and said, "You men think it fine sport, but if you had to take our chances as hostages you would play the game differently." But their wrath and injunctions were wasted on their audience, for the Texans were fully decided as far as possible to protect the honor and property of helpless people against the vandalism and destruction of an unprincipled antagonist, whose main ambition seemed to be to make the Southern people realize that war was hell as their leader was accustomed to say to them. Just what there was in the truce conference held to cause the release of the prisoners may be only surmised, but why General Sherman refused to make the exchange sought seemed manifest at the time to parties most interested.

The ravages of war were fearful to behold. Any one could stand upon an eminence in the morning and tell by the smoke from burning buildings just how far east and west General Sherman's line of march extended. From the daily reports, which we believed authentic, every living animal for use or food was taken from the citizens, including all kinds of fowls, and their smoke-houses and pantries were stripped, and when the women and children would appeal to General Sherman for food he would tell them to call on their people in the northern part of the State. There was just one article of food they could neither destroy nor carry off and that was sweet potatoes, of which there was an abundant crop the season before which must have been the means of keeping the dependent population from starvation.

Of all the campaigns made during the Civil War by either Northern or Southern armies, none had more of devastation and cruelty and inhumanity than this one led by W. T. Sherman across South Carolina, during the winter and spring of 1865. And no other campaign equaled this one for its barbarity except perhaps Sherman's march from Atlanta to the sea. After his army reached Savannah, Georgia, Sherman made his report to the Secretary of War, in which he said he had made Georgia realize that war was hell and that he had devastated a country fifty miles wide and two hundred miles long so completely that if a crow visited that section he would have to carry his rations with him or starve. This report was published at the time and is now doubtless among the war records today.¹⁷

This incident will probably bring to the mind of the student of history how Nero fiddled and danced while Rome burned up. Sherman left Atlanta with an army of between fifty and one hundred thousand men for his campaign through Georgia and the Carolinas, opposed only in Georgia by Wheeler's cavalry, reinforced by other cavalry forces under General Hampton, McLaws and other local commands when he started through South Carolina, not enough at any time to resist his progress materially, but enough perhaps to delay his movements somewhat while he repaired the bridges destroyed by the Confederates and enough to keep his men reasonably closed up in solid columns and thus saving from destruction some of the districts near his line of march. This marching of Sherman's army accompanied by the burning of houses in the country and of the towns and villages passed, and the general destruction of property continued without variation or cessation worthy of mention until he reached the capital of the State, which shared the same fate as other towns in the line of march.

But at this juncture General Sherman published a report in the papers that General Hampton had burned Columbia; and while no soldier in either army in South Carolina believed it, yet there were others who did give that published report credit. Of this latter class was one, writing in Nelson's Encyclopedia, who in speaking of this destruction of Columbia said, "The charge that he ordered the burning of Columbia, South Carolina, has been completely disproved," leaving the impression on the reading world that Sherman's charge against General Hampton was true. It seems strange that one who presumes to write history should be so careless about facts. Now why should anyone conclude that a man who had spent months in destroying and burning everything in a devastating campaign should be relieved or exonerated of the charge of burning Columbia, the goal of his ambition and cherished conquest of his military career. Besides this process of reasoning, to fix the blame on General Sherman, I have seen published a report that I deem reliable, that General Sherman published in his memoirs before he died that he charged General Hampton with burning Columbia in order to discredit him with the people of South Carolina, his native State. I have never seen those memoirs and cannot vouch for the truth of this report, but it seems reasonable and much in keeping with General Sherman's character.¹⁸

John G. Haynie of Company F, as good a soldier as ever Texas sent to war, was drowned in Saluda river at Columbia the same day the city was burned. Haynie had rarely ever missed a battle, had been wounded two or three times, and had no hope or expectation of ever going home again, as he confided to me only a few days before his death. I asked him why he should take such a gloomy view of the future. His answer was, "This war may last ten years, and I am not going to shirk a duty or miss a battle if I can possibly help it; and I know it is only a matter of a short time when everyone who does this way will meet his final call. Judge the future by the past. Look for the best soldiers of Company F. Where are they? Most of them have answered their last roll call, and I can't hope for a different fate."

While Sherman was making desolate these regions the army of Tennessee was collecting in North Carolina near Raleigh or rather in that section of the State, for the purpose of meeting Sherman's march northward. General Joe Johnston, who had been succeeded by General Hood at Atlanta, was restored to the army of Tennessee while said army was near Smithville, North Carolina. I never saw a demonstration to equal that made in honor of his return. Nearly a whole day was consumed by the army in cheering and shouting over this event. The army had nearly been destroyed by Hood's manipulation of it, and the remnants were wholly dispirited by the misfortunes that had befallen our cause, and having great confidence in General Johnston as a leader and successful warrior, they showed renewed enthusiasm and determination by the magnificent reception accorded him.

A week or ten days later General Johnston moved his army out to meet Sherman in his onward march and met him at Bentonville, North Carolina, and engaged him in battle which lasted two days, March 19-21, 1865. It was furious and bloody from the beginning and to a spectator it seemed that the Confederates had the advantage on all parts of the field. I had no special duty to perform, being on parole. I was exposed several times to the enemy's fire when I ventured too near to watch the battle or to help carry the wounded from the field.

During the first day the Texas Rangers lost. In the first charge they made every held officer they had, Colonel Cook, Lieutenant Colonel Christian and Major Jarmon, was badly wounded. In after years Cook died from this wound. The other two recovered after the war ended.

Doc. Mathews, a mere boy, captain of Company K, being senior captain now with the regiment succeeded to the command of the regiment and won unperishable fame by making a successful charge on the 17th Army Corps of the enemy, driving them in great confusion from a bridge they were ready to seize. This bridge was the only available crossing of a deep sluggish stream around our army on its west and south sides, and in case of its capture by the enemy in front our army would have been cooped up and forced to surrender. Our ammunition and supplies had to come to us over that bridge. The enemy fully realized the importance of its capture and approached near to it without being discovered, with a whole corps of infantry. The Rangers, being the nearest Confederate troops to this point, were ordered by General Hardee, who was nearby reconnoitering that part of the field, to drive them back. With a charge rarely equaled and never surpassed in impetuosity and daring, the Texans under Doc. Mathews' leadership threw themselves upon that corps of infantry with a recklessness that indicated do or die on their part. The enemy were greatly confused and wavered for a moment and then began to give back. The Texans still pressing were reinforced by Brown's brigade of Tennesseeans, I think, and the two commands combined drove the enemy clear off the field and the bridge was saved to us for our use.

The toll of the Texas regiment was heavy in the killed and wounded, but the charge was a success, as most of its charges were. It was reported that General Johnston said he would compliment that regiment in a general order, but owing I suppose to the great confusion in military quarters and the fast changing of operations just previous to final surrender, the complimentary order and the official report of this battle were never written so far as I know. This was the last battle of the Tennessee army of any consequence. In this last charge General Hardee had a son killed, about 17 years of age. The boy had been in military school at Milledgeville, Georgia. The dash and success of the Texas Rangers challenged his ambition. He left school without permission, came to the army, sought out the Rangers and offered his services in their ranks. His presence and desires were made known to General Hardee who sent him back to school at Milledgeville. He made his escape from school again and came to us during the battle of Bentonville. He was again reported to General Hardee by Captain Kyle of Company D of the Rangers. Hardee said to Kyle "Swear him into service in your company as nothing else will satisfy." Kyle enrolled him in his company. About four hours after this time this fatal charge was made and he fell dead in sight of his father, who had come out to see the charge made. Of course I cannot recall many of the casualties that happened in that battle, but one other case is so fixed in my memory that I feel constrained to mention it.

Eugene Munger of Company B of the Rangers had escaped the missiles of death so long, not even receiving a wound from the enemy, though always in the thickest of the fight, that he had become a fatalist, and often said that he didn't believe a Yankee bullet was ever molded to kill him. In that charge a bullet went crashing through his brain, and he never knew what killed him. So much for fatalism, so much sometimes in presentiment. I have known other cases where these things failed in realization.

One other thing in connection with this famous charge. General McLaws from the Virginia army witnessed it. He said he had soldiered with "Jeb" Stuart on his many exploits in Virginia and Maryland, but had never witnessed a charge equal in efficiency and results to this one.

The great battle of Bentonville was now over, both sides badly punished. Sherman's hitherto unimpeded progress was checked, and he gave his time and energy to recruiting and repairing his army, and General Johnston to organization and moving leisurely towards Greensboro, North Carolina. In the meantime the Virginia army was surrendered at Appomatox, and General Grant's army moved south to make a junction with Sherman's army and to force the surrender of General Johnston which finally took place at Greensboro. Just before the armistice between the two armies, Johnston's and Sherman's, took place, one other incident of interest might be related pertaining to the Texas Rangers.

They were camped out on Haw river, or some tributary of it, near a bridge over a stream. Pickets between them and the enemy had been removed during the night without their knowledge. Next morning about sunrise a regiment or more of the enemy's cavalry came across that bridge into the edge of our camps, while all the regiment were asleep except five or six men who had saddled their horses to go out for forage. These raised a shout, made a dash at the enemy, thus awakening the balance of the regiment, who instantly grabbed their guns without any orders; everyone for himself, and gave them such a reception as to send them pell mell back the road over which they came. So far as I now remember this was the last firing by any part of Johnston's army, and so the Terry Texas Rangers had fought the first and last battles of the army of Tennessee; the first at Woodsonville, Kentucky, the last near Haw river, North Carolina.

Not long after this Captain Doc. Mathews, now commanding the Texas Rangers visited General Hardee's headquarters to learn what he might about the current events of the day. General Hardee was a favorite of the regiment, and the regiment was a favorite of his. He told Mathews of the situation pending; that Grant was moving upon us from the north and Sherman's army had approached us from the south and east, and General Stoneman had 10,000 cavalry on Catawba river southwest of us, and that while he had nothing official on the subject, he felt satisfied the army would be surrendered right there. He also advised Mathews to take his regiment away from there and join Dick Taylor's army then at Mobile, Alabama, and by thus adding strength from different sections to that army, under the providence of God victory might finally come to the Southern cause, and added, "I don't want to see your regiment surrendered to the enemy."

Captain Mathews returned to camp at midnight and had the bugler sound the assembly call for the regiment, and when it was assembled he delivered Hardee's information and advice and concluded his remarks with these words, "I am too young a man to assume the responsibility of such an undertaking, but I now offer my resignation as commander of the regiment," asking each company commander to take charge of his company. "Hold a council to determine your course, and each company decide and act for itself regardless of what others may do."

Company F, my company, returned to quarters, held its conference and decided unanimously to go to Dick Taylor and to start at once. Some of the company, including the commissioned officers, were absent on police or scout or other duties or on account of sickness, and were not in this conference and hence were left behind when we started to leave. C. D. Barnett, our orderly sergeant, agreed to be commander and I agreed to be "counselor" for the expedition. I never did learn definitely the course the other companies pursued, but had the impression fixed upon me that most of them made their escape and were never paroled until after all Confederates had surrendered, and some of them were never paroled at all, but are still, so to say, soldiers of the Confederate government. Some parties, making out as best they could a roster of the regiment, since the war, in speaking of this surrender of the troops said that two hundred and forty-eight Rangers answered to roll call the day before the surrender, but only two of them surrendered next day. I think this is erroneous, but indicates how much the Rangers opposed surrendering to the enemy. Captain Tom Weston, last commander of Company H of the Rangers, wrote to me some years after the war closed and said among other things that he had the honor of surrendering the regiment at Greensboro, and that there were ninety men present who received paroles. I think this statement is reliable.

About fifteen or eighteen members of Company F at one o'clock in the morning began their journey south for Mobile. We went through Greensboro. Brigadier General Harrison of our brigade heard of our movement and sent for us to come to see him, where be was laid up with recent wounds received in battle, and when we drew up in front of the house, he came out on his crutches and made us a speech. He commended our movement heartily and regretted only that he was unable to accompany us. Then with many tears and benedictions he bade us Godspeed with God's blessing and a loving farewell to his faithful comrades who were, according to his words, the heroes of 300 battles.

From Greensboro we went the most direct way to Catawba river. We employed a guide to show us a private ford, knowing that all public crossings were heavily guarded by Stoneman's cavalry. Our guide rode with us all night and towards daylight we left the main road, took a by-path which took us to the river by sun-up where our guide pointed out to us the ford, telling us we would have to swim twenty or thirty feet in the middle of the stream, and ascend on far side up a little trail leading up the bank. Thus instructed we dismissed our guide and moved forward. Having crossed the river and ascended the bank we found a cabin up onthe bank and a lane leading out to the main road, which ran up and down the river two hundred yards or more distant.

Soon after leaving the cabin we saw about twenty Yankee cavalry coming in the other end of the lane meeting us. They were some of Stoneman's men patroling up and down the river to intercept Confederate soldiers trying to make their way south. I was in the rear of our company, which halting for a moment asked me what to do, I said, "Move forward quietly and when within ten steps of them raise a yell and charge them with your pistols in hand and demand their surrender." They were surprised at the unexpected charge and surrendered without firing a gun. Now with twenty prisoners, well mounted, and well armed, we moved forward at a lively gait, crossed the main road, went through the woods, fields and pastures, until we had many miles between us and Stoneman's command. We traveled on and on, going south until nine o'clock at night, when we began to feel the need of rest, and began to consider what was best to do with our prisoners. I suggested to my men to take their horses, arms and munitions, parole them, and turn them loose to return to the command afoot, so building up a fire of pine knots, the paroles were soon written for each one and signed up. We then took possession of their horses and equipage, bade them good-night and we moved on several miles further and camped.

Next day we continued our travels south, taking from Confederate commissaries and quartermasters' stores in the towns we came to such food and feed as we needed. The officers in charge of such stores sometimes objected, saying that Johnston's army had surrendered and that they had been ordered to turn over these supplies to Federal authorities. I gave them choice of opening their storehouses where provisions were stored or having them broken open. They unlocked them and told us to help ourselves. I told them after they had supplied the Confederates' wants they might turn over the residue to Federal authority; that we were regular Confederates and were eating Confederate food and using Confederate forage.

Not many days later we learned that General Taylor had surrendered his army¹⁹ to Federal authorities without a single battle, and we were confronted with new difficulties. Another council of war or of procedure was necessary on our part, so we decided to turn west and cross the Mississippi river by private ferries and offer our services to General Kirby Smith commanding the Trans-Mississippi department. Still another difficulty arose, for we had now reached that desolated strip which General Sherman's army had made on his famous march to the sea, and it was exceedingly difficult to obtain supplies for a company of men. We then divided into squads of three or four men in each, with the promise to meet on the east side of the river to reunite there and go in a body across the river to General Smith's army. Being separated into smaller bodies we more easily found subsistence. Thus we all traveled westward on widely differing routes. As we began to gather in Mississippi, still a new obstacle to our progress was presented. We had hoped to use canoes or skiffs in crossing the river, swimming our horses beside them, a custom that prevailed in that section after the public crossings had fallen into the hands of the enemy. This could be done when the river was at its ordinary stage or depth very successfully; but now what was termed the June rise was on, caused by the melting of ice far up North and the spring rains, and the river was thirty to forty miles wide, making it impossible for our mode of crossing for a month at least, perhaps more. So we must await the falling of the waters before we could cross over.

While lying up and waiting Tom Gill, Peter Arnold, John Justice and I concluded we would take a run up into middle Tennessee, where we all had sweethearts whom we desired to visit. So after forging some paroles for Justice, Gill and Arnold we made our start for Tennessee. Now I don't wish to make the impression that I forged these paroles for the boys, for I did not, but they found other men on parole down there in Mississippi and copied them substituting their own names in place of the one on parole. Thus equipped, well mounted, and armed with our side arms we started for Tennessee. As we approached Wayland Springs in Lawrence County, Tennessee, we unexpectedly at a short turn in the road rode into a regiment of Yankee cavalry who were dismounted and seemed to be resting under some trees by the roadside. We halted for a moment and I said, "Forward, boys, and look for the commander of these troops." So pretty soon Colonel Blank was pointed out to us by the troopers and we rode boldly up to him, all of us saluting, when Tom Gill became spokesman for us, and said, "Colonel, we are Confederate soldiers on parole, going up farther in Tennessee to visit our friends before we proceed to our homes in the West." In the meantime we all drew out our paroles for the colonel's inspection, and Gill continued his speech, saying, "You see, Colonel, we have our side arms. These are for our own personal protection, as Federal officers in Mississippi advised us that if we came to Tennessee we would find bands of outlaws, horse thieves, etc., plentiful, and we ought to have some defence against these."

After examination of two of the paroles, the colonel bade us to proceed on our journey.

This was about six or eight miles south of Wayland Springs, which was the regular camping place for this regiment, as we learned later in the day. These springs as it happened were on the road we were traveling. After sundown as we approached these springs that evening, a sentinel on guard called out to "Halt! Halt!" several times, to which we paid no heed, hut kept riding on towards him. When we drew near this sentinel was furious and cursed us vigorously and threatened to shoot us. His calling to us and cursing us aroused the curiosity of his comrades back in camp, so they, eight or ten of them, came out to the road to see what the trouble was. They first discovered we were Confederate soldiers, and one discovered we were on McClellan saddles and said, "Why, they are using our saddles," meaning we were riding saddles the Federal army used for their cavalry, and then another one called out, "Why, they are armed with pistols; look at them." Then I said, "Yes, we have our pistols and all of us know exactly how to use them, so you need not trouble yourselves further about trying to halt us, for we are going on," and bade them good-night, and rode on. It may be but fair to state that they had come out to the road without their guns and as the vidette only was armed and we had two six-shooters each, they simply acted wisely and judiciously by letting us pass on, without molestation. This was my last personal interview with the Yankee soldier.

Next day we reached Giles County, and as some of the crowd wished to go on up to Franklin County and on to Maury County while I wanted to stop in Giles County, we separated with the understanding we would meet at my stopping place to begin our western trip after the Mississippi river had gone down sufficiently. Pretty soon, after this date, Generals Lee, Johnston, and Taylor, having surrendered, the future for our independence seemed so unpromising to General Kirby Smith's army that they simply broke camps and went home without awaiting any enemy to ask them to surrender. So their final act in this fearful drama was called "The Breakup" and is still so-called.

In our last contact with the Yankee troops down in Lawrence County I did not endorse Mr. Gill's speech to them, for it was only one-fourth correct, since I was the only one that had a genuine parole, but he proceeded on the theory, I suppose, that "all things are fair in war."

The war was now over, our dream of an independent Confederate government was passed. Overwhelming numbers with inexhaustible supplies had triumphed over a half-fed scantily supplied army, greatly inferior in numbers. I am reliably informed that war records of this period will show to parties seeking correct history that the Confederate enrollment of soldiers was 600,000 in all, while the enlistment on the other side was 2,800,000, or more than four to one in favor of the Northern army. In addition to this, all Southern ports were blockaded by the Federal government, so it seems wonderful even yet that this war could have continued four years with this great inequality of advantages.

Personally I had been loyal to the Confederate government, had done the best I could, had offered my life, endured privations and shed my blood freely; had no apologies to make for my action, and still believed and now believe we were right and engaged in the cause of human liberty as did our forefathers in other years. I do not know certainly, and do not want to know how many men I killed or how many I wounded. I only know I had many fine opportunities to do both. I wear four scars on my body from Yankee bullets that will go with me to my grave, but I regard them as scars of honor received in defense of the South-land, and am proud of them. I thank God that I can forgive and pray for my former enemies and that I entertain no ill will towards any of them at this time.

In the foregoing pages I have in a plain way told where I served and when I served in the Confederate army, together with many incidents connected therewith. I have tried at all times to be accurate, and fair and loyal to the truth. It now remains for me according to first intention as announced in the beginning of this record to tell just why I served the cause with such fidelity. I might answer this question with one word "Patriotism." I believed the South right in her contentions and in her actions in seceding from the government and setting up for itself. According to the Constitution, Amendment X, the powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution nor prohibited by it to the States were reserved to the States respectively. These independent States never delegated their powers to make or unmake governments to the general government, so if they ever had the right of choosing in this matter and had not delegated it to others, they still possessed it. These independent Colonies, or States, had never lodged in the hands of the general government the right to make war on any one of its members. Secession it was said was advocated by Abraham Lincoln in a speech in Congress as a right belonging to the States respectively. Massachusetts threatened secession when the government purchased Louisiana from France, because, as her people argued, the price paid was extravagant. Fanaticism in the Northern States caused them to pass fugitive slave laws in violation of the Constitution, in Article IV and latter part of Section II, and when reminded of this violation the usual answer was, "The Constitution is a compact with the Devil and in a league with Hell." They brought on war and bloodshed in Kansas because some United States citizens had moved to Kansas and took their slaves with them, as I now remember. The same fanaticism sent emissaries through the South to raise insurrection among the blacks, and to incite them to bloodshed and murder and when one of those was condemned and hanged for his murderous deeds, those fanatics held great public funerals over the North, proclaiming him a martyr to the cause of human welfare and to the holy service of God.

In addition to all of these things this same element increased in strength and power until it was able to elect a President and a Congress of the U. S. from its members and what could the South expect but humiliation and destruction of her institutions from such a set?

The time had come when we believed we could not live peaceably with them. Therefore, we preferred to secede and form a government of our own, which we thought we had a right to do. We did not demand any of the public treasure or public lands or any of the community property of the government of which we rightfully owned a part, but simply seceded from disagreeable company and set up a government of our own and asked only to be let alone. I doubt if a constitutional lawyer could have been found at that time who would have said we did not have a right to secede and I doubt if you can find a constitutional lawyer today who understands the organic law of the government who will say that we had no right to secede. Then where did this power lie or come from authorizing Abraham Lincoln to make war on and devastate the Southern States?

There is another viewpoint that justifies the South in going to war. Self-preservation is the first law of nature and a people who would not fight to defend their homes and firesides are not worthy of freedom or respect. I love the South and her institutions and I went out to help defend them and to help if possible drive the destroyers from our borders, and old as I am now, if such a catastrophe should happen again to our beloved land, I am ready to offer my life, my fortune, and sacred honor in her defense.

CONCLUSION

It is self-evident from the foregoing writings in these sketches that if the writer were asked to fix the responsibility of the Civil War he would say, without hesitation, Abraham Lincoln, his ill advisors and coadjutors were responsible for all of the bloodshed, the deaths, the horrors and devastation of that war. But as another Judge, the Judge of all the earth who will do right, has jurisdiction over these and all other human affairs, the writer is willing to leave these and all other things for Him to adjudicate.

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Return to Blackburn Index.

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14 For Wheeler's report of this raid, see Official Records, Series I, Vol. XXX, Part II, pp. 722-725.--C. W. R.

¹⁵ The battle of Franklin was fought on November 30, 1664; that of Nashville on December 15-16.--C. W. R.

16 This correspondence may be found in Official Records, Series I, Vol. XLVII, Part II, pp. 546, 596.--C. W. R.

17 For Sherman's account of his march to the sea, see his Memoirs, Vol. II, pp. 171-229; also Official Records, Series I, Vol. XLIV, pp. 7-14.--C. W. R.

18 This confession is in Sherman's Memoirs, Vol. II, p. 287.--C. W. R.

¹⁹ May 4, l865.--C. W. R.

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