Most of the citizens around Scottsboro were loyal, and would come into camp from across the Tennessee River to get our help in bringing their families out of Rebeldom; and an immense number of soldiers deserted the rebels and came to us. Quite a number of our boys married southern girls and sent them north. The rocky hills around Scottsboro were covered with cedar. The sap was almost snow-white, and the heart almost fiery red. The boys used to make all kinds of toys with the wood.
While here your grandpa Curry and one of his neighbors came down to see up and brought us a box of good things to eat. We made them as comfortable as possible while they were with us, but I expect they thought they had got to a poor hotel.
But their visit was cut short by an order for us to march. It looked hard for us to have to march and leave them when they had come so far to see us; but war is hard at best. We marched away on the 11th of Feb. not knowing where nor what for. They started for home.
We marched from Bridgeport to Chattanooga for the third time and went on a winter raid down into Georgia. The object of the raid, we learned, was to hold Johnston at Dalton while Sherman made a big raid from Vicksburg into eastern Mississippi. We went nearly to Dalton, GA., made lots of noise, (more than the ass did with the loin sent him into the woods to scar the game out) gave Johnston a big scare, got badly scared ourselves and came near getting captured; and then returned to Scottsboro, traveling the road between Chattanooga and Bridgeport for the fourth time.
Our stay at Scottsboro is the brightest spot in my military life; and immediately following it is the darkest.
The country now had able commanders in the field who were competent and loyal, and not too jealous of eachother to work together in harmony for the suppression of the rebellion; but the loyal element of the nation was nearly all in the army, leaving the disloyal element of the nation to raise cain and pandemonium at home. In many places soldiers were called from the front to go North and quell the rioters. This gave great encouragement to the rebellion, and no doubt prolonged the war. At one time, greenbacks were only worth 35 cents on the dollar.
This was the darkest year of the war, the darkest year of our country's history, and the darkest year of my life. I think of it yet with a shudder, and will not follow the bloody details of the Atlanta campaign in this memoir.
Our armies were recruited and equipped for what the country thought to be the great and final struggle. We were furnished with new and better guns; we were inspected and everything, not strictly needed in and was ordered sent home. Extra blankets, overcoats, watches, revolvers, photographs and other unnecessary things were boxed up and sent home, but they never got there.
On the first day of May, 1864, we broke camp at Scottsboro, traveled the road to Chattanooga for the fifth and last time. On the 6th of May we camped at Crawfish Spring, where the water comes boiling out of the ground cold and clear, and forms a river at once, larger than the North Fork of the Nehalem. This is the source of the Chickamauga. Here I was detailed, with two others of our company as guards of our division train. We had to guard the train that supplied our division with provisions, from rebel attack, and also help load and unload wagons, and assist them over bad roads.
We passed over the Chickamauga battle ground. Great pine trees, three feet through, were shot down by cannon. Little mounds of earth lay round where the dead had been covered up where they fell.
At Dallas, Ga., on the 28th of May about half of Co. A were killed or wounded. George was wounded in the wrist and Sam in the leg and ankle. Sam was in the field hospital for several days not far from our train, where I visited him several times. He was cheerful and hopeful. He was not badly wounded and would have recovered if he had half taken care of him. The wounded were put on the train for home, and we moved forward and I saw Sam for the last time. I helped him in the ambulance when the hospital moved. He owed some little debts to the boys that he told me to pay for him out of money that others owed him. He died at Rome, Ga., Sept. 3 1864, and was after the war removed to the government cemetery at Marietta, Ga. I have a strong hope that Sam was saved, from what he wrote to me, and what I heard from others who were in the hospital with him. I always felt a great responsibility resting on me in regard to the spiritual welfare of those younger than myself, and I tried to do the best I could for them in precept and example, and I don't know where I have failed. Poor mother; Sam was the baby. George didn't join the regiment any more till the campaign was over.
The orderly sergeant of our company was wounded, and I, being the next ranking sergeant, was relieved from the train and went to the company. The regiment was camped in line of battle on the Chatahoochie River, very near the enemy, but Johnston fell back with his army, and McPherson, who commanded the Army of Tennessee, moved to the extreme left and advanced almost to Atlanta. The result of this movement was the battle of July 22, where McPherson was killed.
This was the hardest day's work of my life, I believe, and I don't believe the description of it would be of interest to you. The command devolved on Gen. Logan, our corps commander. We held the field. After a few days, the Army of the Tennessee moved to the extreme right where we got our foot into it again. Our division was in the rear and before we got into position two of the best army corps in the rebel service, Lee's and Hardee's, struck us on the wing. They made seven desperate charges and met with seven desperate repulses. The horrors of this day's work my be seen in the history of the 99th Ind., if anyone wants to see them.
At dark, Co. B was sent a little to the front as pickets where we were horrified with the groaning of our wounded enemies, and unable to help them.
About three o'clock in the morning July 29, the rebel bugles sounded, and soon we heard the sound of their wagons, moving to the rear. We gathered up their wounded and took them to our hospital and buried their dead. We advanced our lines and fortified and from this time, were continually under fire until August 26, when we withdrew and moved to the right, and struck the last railroad by which Hood supplied his army. Seeing the hopelessness of holding Atlanta, he blew up 81 car loads of ammunition and evacuated the city.
Johnston commanded the rebel army until about the middle of July. He was prudent, and spared his men; but when Hood was put in command, he rushed his men onto us in four pitched battles and well nigh ruined his army. We followed the rebs a few days after the last battle and then marched into the "Gale City." We were glad to take a rest, for we had been under a fire almost continuously for four months.
Up to this time our regiment had marched on foot 1,913 miles. We looked over the conquered city, fortified, cut chestnut trees and ate the nuts, and then started on another campaign after Hood who had swung around and was tearing up the railroad by which Sherman's army was supplied.
We broke camp on the 4th of October, 1864, and followed Hood past Kenesaw Mountain and Alatoona, where Sherman signaled to Gen. Corse to "Hold the Fort" (which gave rise to the song Hold the Fort), and almost back to Dalton, when Sherman left him to the care of Gens. Thomas and Schofield, and returned to Atlanta. On this campaign we marched about 307 miles, making 2,220 miles in all.
All the inhabitants had been sent out of Atlanta, the railroads leading to it destroyed, the rails heated red hot and twisted out of shape, the machine shops destroyed, and the place rendered unfit for a rebel stronghold in the near future. It was rumored in camp that Sherman was entering on some great scheme, but no one knew what or where, until one evening late we were ordered into line to hear an order from Sherman. Everything was expectation.
The people of Savannah were glad to see Sherman's army. They were tired of the war. We marched through the streets in column by company, with flags waving and bands playing, and the women and children didn't run and hide. We traded in the stores, and they were glad to get our greenbacks.
When Fort McAllister was taken our vessels from the Atlantic came streaming up the Ogeechee with provisions and clothing, and a big mail. Some of the boys from home got bad news but I got good news this time. Uncle Tom was on his way home to stay with Mother and Het. Wasn't I glad? Our friends at home had heard all manner of rumors about Sherman's army. The mischief-making stay at home had us all annihilated. They would have given their bottom dollar to make it so. On this campaign we marched 346 miles, making 2,566 miles in all. Sherman's army couldn't afford to rest long. We took a short ocean voyage to Beaufort, South Carolina, where we camped long enough to corduroy some swampy roads and then the Carolina Campaign was begun.
We broke camp on the 15th of January, 1865. This was a campaign of great exposure. We made no effort to keep dry. It was no use. We marched through rain and mud, and waded creeks, rivers, and swamps like so many cattle. On the 12th of February, we waded the overflown bottom of the North Edisto River, where the water was sometimes knee deep and sometimes waist deep. It was full of vines and brambles, and cyprus stools so that we often fell down and went clear under. We were floundering through there for just two hours, and the weather was freezing cold. The rebs held the road at the crossing, and we had to flank them.
We moved northward destroying all communication between the coast and the interior. Old Charleston, where was fired the first gun of the war, surrendered to the inevitable, then Columbia, the cradle of secession, succumbed, then Chesaw, Camdon, and Fayetteville. A vast amount of rebel ammunition went up in smoke at these places.
On the 21st of March we heard a terrific cannonading on our left and knew that someone was catching it. We marched nearly all that nighty, helping our trains and artillery over a big swamp, and reaching dry ground, dropped down for a little sleep when an order came for us to return and assist the 14th Corps which had suffered severely the day before. We had to recross the big swamp and march nearly all the next day, in a heavy rain before we arrived at our destination. At night we were placed on the front line where the bullets were whistling all around us. We expected to charge the enemy the next morning, but he was gone, and we were not angry.
A lot of Gen. Lee's men from Richmond, calling themselves Lee's bulldogs, had been sent down to oppose Sherman's progress. Lee told Jeff Davis that unless Sherman was stopped he could not hold Richmond. On the 23rd of March the weather cleared up. We pried our cannon out of the mud and went on our way rejoicing.
On the 24th we reached Goldsboro, N. C., where we were again in communication with the world, and where we drew plenty of rations and clothing. Many of the boys were barefooted. We had been marching and wading for two months and a half and no chance to get clothing, except from the country. Sherman promised us a rest, and gave it to us. In the campaign we marched 454 miles. While at Goldsboro we heard the glorious news of the fall of Richmond.
On the 10th of April we again moved northward. We met with but little opposition. A few little spats with the Johnnies reminded us that the war was not quite over. On the 12th of April we were ordered to march, but the order was countermanded. Presently we heard away ahead of us a tremendous cheering. Then we heard it a little closer and louder; and then closer and still louder. Then we saw the air fairly black with flying hats. Then an officer came dashing up to us and announced officially from General Sherman that Lee had surrendered to General Grant. Hats flew high in the air, the drums beat, and men cheered themselves hoarse, and rolled on the ground like they were wild, and I guess they were. The year before marked the darkest period in our country's history; and I believe the surrender of Lee marked the brightest. The news seemed too good to be true, but it was.
We moved to Raleigh, and the people were glad to see Sherman's army. There were two daily papers in Raleigh, and our boys bought them and wrote articles for them. The people were tired of war.
While at Raleigh we received the intelligence of the assassination of Lincoln. The boys were very mad for a while, and talked of going for Johnston without mercy, but they soon got over it.
