In Winter Quarters, 1863 and 1864—Re-enlistment.
Christmas came as usual to the soldiers as to the rest of the world, and if Longstreet's men did not have as "merry and happy" a Christmas as those at home, and in the armies outside, they had at least a cheerful one. Hid away in the dark and mysterious recesses of the houses of many old Unionists, was yet a plentitude of "moon-shine," and this the soldiers drew out, either by stealth or the eloquent pleadings of a faded Confederate bill. Poultry abounded in the far away sections of the country, not yet ravaged by either army, which it was a pleasure to those fixtures of the army called "foragers" to hunt up. The brotherhood of "foragers" was a peculiar institute, and some men take as naturally to it as the duck to water. They have an eye to business, as well as pleasure, and the life of a "forager" becomes almost an art. They have a peculiar talent, developed by long practice of nosing out, hunting up, and running to quarry anything in the way of "eatables or drinkables." During the most stringent times in a country that had been over-run for years by both armies, some men could find provisions and delicacies, and were never known to be [330] without "one drink left" in their canteens for a needy comrade, who had the proper credentials, the Confederate "shin-plaster." These foragers had the instinct (or acquired it) and the gifts of a "knight of the road" of worming out of the good housewife little dainties, cold meats, and stale bread, and if there was one drop of the "oh be joyful" in the house, these men of peculiar intellect would be sure to get it. So with such an acquisition to the army, and in such a country as East Tennessee, the soldiers did not suffer on that cold Christmas day. Bright and cheerful fires burned before every tent, over which hung a turkey, a chicken, or a choice slice of Tennessee pork, or, perhaps, better still, a big, fat sausage, with which the smoke-houses along the valleys of the French Broad were filled.
It was my misfortune, or rather good fortune, to be doing picket duty on the Holston on that day. Here I had an adventure rather out of the regular order in a soldier's life, one more suited to the character of Don Quixote. I, as commandant of the post, had strict orders not to allow anyone to cross the river, as "beyond the Alps lie Italy," beyond the Holston lay the enemy. But soldiers, like other men, have their trials. While on duty here a buxom, bouncing, rosy cheeked mountain lass came up, with a sack of corn on her shoulder, and demanded the boat in order that she might cross over to a mill and exchange her corn for meal. This, of course, I had to reluctantly deny, however gallantly disposed I might otherwise have been. The lass asked me, with some feeling of scorn, "Is the boat yours?" to which I was forced to answer in the negative. She protested that she would not go back and get a permit or pass from anyone on earth; that the boat was not mine, and she had as much right to its use as anyone, and that no one should prevent her from getting bread for her family, and that "you have no business here at best," arguments that were hard to controvert in the face of a firey young "diamond in the rough." So to compromise matters and allow chivalry to take, for the time being, the place of duty, I agreed to ferry her over myself. She placed her corn in the middle of the little boat, planting herself erect in the prow; I took the stern. The weather was freezing cold, the wind strong, and the waves rolled high, the little boat rocking to and fro, while I battled with the strong current of the river. Once or twice she cast [331] disdainful glances at my feeble and emaciated form, but at last, in a melting tone, she said: "If you can't put the boat over, get up and give me the oar." This taunt made me strong, and the buxom mountain girl was soon at the mill. While awaiting the coming of the old miller, I concluded to take a stroll over the hill in search of further adventure. There I found, at a nice old-fashioned farm house, a bevy of the prettiest young ladies it had been my pleasure to meet in a long while—buoyant, vivacious, cultured, and loyal to the core. They did not wait very long to tell me that they were "Rebels to the bone." They invited me and any of my friends that I chose to come over the next day and take dinner with them, an invitation I was not loath nor slow to accept. My mountain acquaintance was rowed back over the Holston in due season, without any of the parting scenes that fiction delight in, and the next day, armed with passports, my friends and myself were at the old farm house early. My companions were Colonel Rutherford, Dr. James Evans, Lieutenant Hugh Farley, Captains Nance, Cary, and Watts, with Adjutant Pope as our chaperone. Words fail me here in giving a description of the dinner, as well as of the handsome young ladies that our young hostess had invited from the surrounding country to help us celebrate.
Now will any reader of this question the fact that Longstreet's men suffered any great hardships, isolated as they were from the outside world? This is but a sample of our sufferings. We had night parties at the houses of the high and the low, dinners in season and out of season, and not an enemy outside of the walls of Knoxville. Did we feel the cold? Did the frozen ground cut our feet through our raw-hide moccasins? Did any of the soldiers long for home or the opening of the next campaign? Bah!
It was during our stay in winter quarters, March, 1864, that the term of our second enlistment expired. The troops had volunteered for twelve months at the commencement of the war; this expiring just before the seven days' battle around Richmond, a re-enlistment and reorganization was ordered in the spring of 1862 for two more years, making the term of Kershaw's Brigade equal with other troops that had enlisted for "three years or the war." By an Act of Congress, in 1862, all men between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five years were [332] compelled to bear arms. This had been extended first to forty and then to forty-five and during Grant's memorable campaign against Richmond, the ages ran from sixteen to fifty-five, though those between sixteen and eighteen and those between fifty and fifty-five were to be used only in State service. This brought out the expression of Grant to the authorities in Washington, that "Lee had robbed the cradle and the grave." Our re-enlistment was only a form, no change in officers or organization. Some few failed to voluntarily re-enlist, not with any view to quit the army, but some had grown weary of the hard marches of the infantry service and wished to join the cavalry. However, when the morning came for re-enlistment the troops were called out in line of regiments and a call made by the Colonel to all who were willing to enlist for the war to step two paces to the front. All, with the very fewest exceptions, stepped proudly to the front. Of course, none were permitted to leave his company for the cavalry, as that branch of the service was yet filled to its full quota, its ranks had in no discernable degree been depleted by the casualties of war. It seemed that fortune favored our troopers, for battle as they would, none were scarcely ever wounded, and a less number killed. Infantry soldiers were furloughed, through wounds, by the thousands, and artillerymen by the hundreds, after every great battle, but the cavalryman was denied this luxury, and his only hope in a furlough was a short leave of absence to replace a wornout horse that had fallen by the wayside. Their ranks of furloughed men in this line were usually quite full.
As for returning to their homes, no soldier, however humble his station, either in the army or socially at home, would have dared to leave the service had a discharge been offered him. A man in good health and with stout limbs preferred facing bullets and even death, rather than bracing the scorn and contempt the women of the South had for the man who failed his country when his services were needed. No man, however brave, would have had the hardihood to meet his wife or mother unless "with his shield or on it" in this hour of his country's need. There were some few exemptions in the conscript law; one particularly was where all the men in a neighborhood had gone or was ordered to the front, one old man to five plantations, on which were [333] slaves, was exempted to look after said farms, manage the negroes, and collect the government taxes or tithes. These tithes were one-tenth of all that was raised on a plantation—cotton, corn, oats, peas, wheat, potatoes, sorghum, etc.—to be delivered to a government agent, generally a disabled soldier, and by him forwarded to the army.
During the winter most of the vacancies in company and field officers were filled by promotion, according to rank. In most cases, the office of Third Lieutenant was left to the choice of the men, in pursuance to the old Democratic principle, "government by the will of the people." Non-commissioned officers usually went up by seniority, where competent, the same as the commissioned officers.
All these vacancies were occasioned by the casualties of war during the Pennsylvania, Chickamauga, and Knoxville campaigns. The Seventh, Fifteenth, and Third Battalion were without field officers. Captain Huggins was placed in command of the Seventh, and Captain Whiter, the Third Battalion. No promotions could be made in the latter, as Major Miller and Colonel Rice had not resigned, although both were disabled for active service in consequence of wounds.
There was considerable wrangling in the Fifteenth over the promotion to the Colonelcy. Captain F.S. Lewie, of Lexington, claimed it by seniority of rank, being senior Captain in the regiment. Captain J.B. Davis, of Fairfield, claimed it under an Act of the Confederate Congress in regard to the rank of old United States officers entering the Confederate service—that the officers of the old army should hold their grade and rank in the Confederate Army, the same as before their joining the South, irrespective of the date of these commissions issued by the war department. Or, in other words, a Lieutenant in the United States Army should not be given a commission over a Captain, or a Captain, over a Major, Lieutenant Colonel, or Colonel, etc., in the Southern Army. As all the old army officers entering the service of the South at different periods, and all wanted a Generalship, so this mode of ranking was adopted, as promising greater harmony and better results. Captain Davis had been a Captain in the State service, having commanded a company in Gregg's six months' troops around Charleston. And, furthermore, Davis was a West Pointer—a good disciplinarian, brave, resolute, and an all round good officer. Still Lewie was his [334] peer in every respect, with the exception of early military training. Both were graduates of medical colleges—well educated, cultured, and both high-toned gentlemen of the "Old School." But Lewie was subject to serious attacks of a certain disease, which frequently incapacitated him for duty, and on marches he was often unable to walk, and had to be hauled for days in the ambulance. Then Lewie's patriotism was greater than his ambition, and he was willing to serve in any position for the good of the service and for the sake of harmony. Captain Lewie thus voluntarily yielded his just claims to the Colonelcy to Captain Davis, and accepted the position of Lieutenant Colonel, places both filled to the end.
COLONEL J.B. DAVIS.
Colonel J.B. Davis was born in Fairfield County, of Scotch-Irish decent, about the year 1835. He received his early education in the schools of the country, at Mount Zion Academy, at Winnsboro, in same county. Afterwards he was admitted to the United States Military School, at West Point, but after remaining for two years, resigned and commenced the study of medicine. He graduated some years before the war, and entered upon the practice of his profession in the western part of the county. He was elected Captain of the first company raised in Fairfield, and served in Gregg's first six mouths' volunteers in Charleston. After the fall of Sumter, his company, with several others, disbanded.
Returning home, he organized a company for the Confederate service, was elected Captain, and joined the Fifteenth Regiment, then forming in Columbia under Colonel DeSaussure. He was in all the battles of the Maryland campaign, in the brigade under General Drayton, and in all the great battles with Kershaw's Brigade. In the winter of 1863 he was made Colonel of the Fifteenth, and served with his regiment until the surrender. On several occasions he was in command of the brigade, as senior Colonel present. He was in command at Cold Harbor after the death of Colonel Keitt. Colonel Davis was one among the best tacticians in the command; had a soldierly appearance—tall, well-developed, a commanding voice, and an all round good officer.
He returned home after the war and began the practice of medicine, and continues it to the present.
COLONEL F.S. LEWIE.
Colonel F.S. Lewie was born in Lexington County, in 1830, and received his early training there. He attended the High School at Monticello, in Fairfield County. He taught school for awhile, then began the study of medicine. He attended the "College of Physicians and Surgeons" in Paris, France, for two years, returning a short while before the breaking out of hostilities between the North and South.
At the outbreak of the war he joined Captain Gibbs' Company, and was made Orderly Sergeant. He served with that company, under Colonel Gregg, in the campaign against Sumter. His company did not disband when the fort fell, but followed Gregg to Virginia. At the expiration of their term of enlistment he returned to Lexington County, raised a company, and joined the Fifteenth. He was in most of the battles in which that regiment was engaged. Was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and in 1864 was elected to the State Senate from Lexington. He refused to leave his regiment, and did not accept the honor conferred upon him by the people of his county. While with his regiment in South Carolina, early in the spring of 1865, he was granted a few days' furlough to visit his home, at which smallpox had broken out, but was captured by Sherman's raiders before reaching home. He was parolled in North Carolina.
He was elected to the Legislature in 1866, serving until reconstruction. He died in 1877.
There was never a Major appointed afterwards in the Fifteenth.
About the last of January we had another little battle scare, but it failed to materialize. General Longstreet had ordered a pontoon bridge from Richmond, and had determined upon a descent upon Knoxville. But the authorities at Washington having learned of our preparation to make another advance, ordered General Thomas to reinforce General Foster with his corps, take command in person, and to drive Longstreet "beyond the confines of East Tennessee." The enemy's cavalry was thrown forward, and part of Longstreet's command having been ordered East, the movement was abandoned; the inclemency of the weather, if no [336] other cause, was sufficient to delay operations. Foster being greatly reinforced, and Longstreet's forces reduced by a part of his cavalry going to join Johnston in Georgia, and a brigade of infantry ordered to reinforce Lee, the commanding General determined to retire higher up the Holston, behind a mountain chain, near Bull's Gap.
On the 22d of February we quit our winter quarters, and took up our march towards Bull's Gap, and after a few days of severe marching we were again snugly encamped behind a spur of the mountain, jutting out from the Holston and on to the Nolachucky River. A vote of thanks from the Confederate States Congress was here read to the troops:
"Thanking Lieutenant General James Longstreet and the officers and men of his command for their patriotic services and brilliant achievements in the present war, sharing as they have the arduous fatigues and privations of many campaigns in Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Georgia, and Tennessee," etc.