'Co. Aytch' - Maury Grays, First Tennessee Regiment - Samuel Rush Watkins (good books to read for adults .txt) 📗

trouble; we haven't forgot that; and we've got you down now—our foot is on your neck, and you must feel our boot heel. We want to stamp you a little—"that's what's the matter with Hannah." And, Johnny, you've fought us hard. You are a brave boy; you are proud and aristocratic, Johnny, and we are going to crush your cursed pride and spirit. And now, Johnny, come here; I've something to whisper in your ear. Hold your ear close down here, so that no one can hear: "We want big fat offices when the war is over. Some of us want to be presidents, some governors, some go to congress, and be big ministers to 'Urup,' and all those kind of things, Johnny, you know. Just go back to your camp, Johnny, chase round, put on a bold front, flourish your trumpets, blow your horns. And, Johnny, we don't want to be hard on you, and we'll tell you what we'll do for you. Away back in your territory, between Columbia and Nashville, is the most beautiful country, and the most fertile, and we have lots of rations up there, too. Now, you just go up there, Johnny, and stay until we want you. We ain't done with you yet, my boy— O, no, Johnny. And, another thing, Johnny; you will find there between Mt. Pleasant and Columbia, the most beautiful country that the sun of heaven ever shone upon; and half way between the two places is St. John's Church. Its tower is all covered over with a beautiful vine of ivy; and, Johnny, you know that in olden times it was the custom to entwine a wreath of ivy around the brows of victorious generals. We have no doubt that many of your brave generals will express a wish, when they pass by, to be buried beneath the ivy vine that shades so gracefully and beautifully the wall of this grand old church. And, Johnny, you will find a land of beauty and plenty, and when you get there, just put on as much style as you like; just pretend, for our sake, you know, that you are a bully boy with a glass eye, and that you are the victorious army that has returned to free an oppressed people. We will allow you this, Johnny, so that we will be the greater when we want you, Johnny. And now, Johnny, we did not want to tell you what we are going to say to you now, but will, so that you'll feel bad. Sherman wants to 'march to the sea, while the world looks on and wonders.' He wants to desolate the land and burn up your towns, to show what a coward he is, and how dastardly, and one of our boys wants to write a piece of poetry about it. But that ain't all, Johnny. You know that you fellows have got a great deal of cotton at Augusta, Savannah, Charleston, Mobile, and other places, and cotton is worth two dollars a pound in gold, and as Christmas is coming, we want to go down there for some of that cotton to make a Christmas gift to old Abe and old Clo, don't you see? O, no, Johnny, we don't want to end the war just yet awhile. The sugar is mighty sweet in the teat, and we want to suck a while longer. Why, sir, we want to rob and then burn every house in Georgia and South Carolina. We will get millions of dollars by robbery alone, don't you see?" PALMETTO

    "Hark from the tomb that doleful sound,
     My ears attend the cry."

General J. B. Hood established his headquarters at Palmetto, Georgia, and here is where we were visited by his honor, the Honorable Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederate States of America, and the Right Honorable Robert Toombs, secretary of state under the said Davis. Now, kind reader, don't ask me to write history. I know nothing of history. See the histories for grand movements and military maneuvers. I can only tell of what I saw and how I felt. I can remember now General Robert Toombs' and Hon. Jeff Davis' speeches. I remember how funny Toombs' speech was. He kept us all laughing, by telling us how quick we were going to whip the Yankees, and how they would skedaddle back across the Ohio river like a dog with a tin oyster can tied to his tail. Captain Joe P. Lee and I laughed until our sides hurt us. I can remember today how I felt. I felt that Davis and Toombs had come there to bring us glad tidings of great joy, and to proclaim to us that the ratification of a treaty of peace had been declared between the Confederate States of America and the United States. I remember how good and happy I felt when these two leading statesmen told of when grim visaged war would smooth her wrinkled front, and when the dark clouds that had so long lowered o'er our own loved South would be in the deep bosom of the ocean buried. I do not know how others felt, but I can say never before or since did I feel so grand. (I came very near saying gloomy and peculiar). I felt that I and every other soldier who had stood the storms of battle for nearly four long years, were now about to be discharged from hard marches, and scant rations, and ragged clothes, and standing guard, etc. In fact, the black cloud of war had indeed drifted away, and the beautiful stars that gemmed the blue ether above, smiling, said, "Peace, peace, peace." I felt bully, I tell you. I remember what I thought—that the emblem of our cause was the Palmetto and the Texas Star, and the town of Palmetto, were symbolical of our ultimate triumph, and that we had unconsciously, nay, I should say, prophetically, fallen upon Palmetto as the most appropriate place to declare peace between the two sections. I was sure Jeff Davis and Bob Toombs had come there for the purpose of receiving the capitulation of and to make terms with our conquered foes. I knew that in every battle we had fought, except Missionary Ridge, we had whipped the Yankees, and I knew that we had no cavalry, and but little artillery, and only two corps of infantry at Missionary Ridge, and from the way Jeff and Bob talked, it was enough to make us old private soldiers feel that swelling of the heart we ne'er should feel again. I remember that other high dignitaries and big bugs, then the controlling spirits of the government at Richmond, visited us, and most all of these high dignitaries shook hands with the boys. It was all hands round, swing the corner, and balance your partner. I shook hands with Hon. Jeff Davis, and he said howdy, captain; I shook hands with Toombs, and he said howdy, major; and every big bug that I shook hands with put another star on my collar and chicken guts on my sleeve. My pen is inadequate to describe the ecstasy and patriotic feeling that permeated every vein and fiber of my animated being. It was Paradise regained. All the long struggles we had followed the Palmetto flag through victory and defeat, through storms and rains, and snows and tempest, along the dusty roads, and on the weary marches, we had been true to our country, our cause, and our people; and there was a conscious pride within us that when we would return to our homes, we would go back as conquerors, and that we would receive the plaudits of our people—well done, good and faithful servants; you have been true and faithful even to the end.

JEFF DAVIS MAKES A SPEECH

    "Sinner come view the ground
     Where you shall shortly lie."

I remember that Hon. Jeff Davis visited the army at this place, and our regiment, the First Tennessee, serenaded him. After playing several airs, he came out of General Hood's marquee, and spoke substantially as follows, as near as I can remember:

"SOLDIERS OF THE FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT:—I should have said captains, for every man among you is fit to be a captain. I have heard of your acts of bravery on every battlefield during the whole war, and 'captains,' so far as my wishes are concerned, I today make every man of you a captain, and I say honestly today, were I a private soldier, I would have no higher ambition on earth than to belong to the First Tennessee Regiment. You have been loyal and brave; your ranks have never yet, in the whole history of the war, been broken, even though the army was routed; yet, my brave soldiers, Tennesseans all, you have ever remained in your places in the ranks of the regiment, ever subject to the command of your gallant Colonel Field in every battle, march, skirmish, in an advance or a retreat. There are on the books of the war department at Richmond, the names of a quarter of a million deserters, yet, you, my brave soldiers, captains all, have remained true and steadfast. I have heard that some have been dissatisfied with the removal of General Joe E. Johnston and the appointment of General Hood; but, my brave and gallant heroes, I say, I have done what I thought best for your good. Soon we commence our march to Kentucky and Tennessee. Be of good cheer, for within a short while your faces will be turned homeward, and your feet will press Tennessee soil, and you will tread your native heath, amid the blue-grass regions and pastures green of your native homes. We will flank General Sherman out of Atlanta, tear up the railroad and cut off his supplies, and make Atlanta a perfect Moscow of defeat to the Federal army. Situated as he is in an enemy's country, with his communications all cut off, and our army in the rear, he will be powerless, and being fully posted and cognizant of our position, and of the Federal army, this movement will be the ultima thule, the grand crowning stroke for our independence, and the conclusion of the war."

ARMISTICE IN NAME ONLY

About this time the Yankees sent us a flag of truce, asking an armistice to move every citizen of Atlanta south of their lines. It was granted. They wanted to live in fine houses awhile, and then rob and burn them, and issued orders for all the citizens of Atlanta to immediately abandon the city. They wanted Atlanta for themselves, you see.

For weeks and months the roads were filled with loaded wagons of old and decrepit people, who had been hunted and hounded from their homes with a relentless cruelty worse, yea, much worse, than ever blackened the pages of barbaric or savage history. I remember assisting in unloading our wagons that General Hood, poor fellow, had kindly sent in to bring out the citizens of Atlanta to a little place called Rough-and-Ready about half way between Palmetto and Atlanta. Every day I would look on at the suffering of delicate ladies, old men, and mothers with little children clinging to them, crying, "O, mamma, mamma," and old women, and tottering old men, whose gray hairs should have protected them from the savage acts of Yankee hate and Puritan barbarity; and I wondered how on earth our generals, including those who had resigned—that is where the shoe pinches—could quietly look on at this dark, black, and damning insult to our people, and not use at least one effort to rescue them from such terrible and unmitigated cruelty, barbarity, and outrage. General Hood remonstrated with Sherman against the insult, stating that it "transcended in studied and ingenious cruelty, all acts ever before brought to my attention in the dark history of war."

In the great crisis of the war, Hardee, Kirby Smith, Breckinridge, and many brigadiers, resigned, thus throwing all the responsibility upon poor Hood.

[Author's note: In the Southern army the question was, who ranked?
Not who was the best general, or colonel, or captain—but "who ranked?"
The article of rank finally got down to corporals; and rank finally
bursted the government.]

I desire to state that they left the army on account of rank. O, this thing of rank!

Many other generals resigned, and left us privates in the lurch. But the gallant Cheatham, Cleburne, Granberry, Gist, Strahl, Adams, John