[A]Note.—The latter part of January, or early in February, the company,
in pursuance of general orders from Rosecrans, chose a man whose name
should be inscribed on a "roll of honor." Through some unaccountable
circumstance, or accident, or perhaps through compromise, the choice fell
on the writer hereof. Though conscious of having tried to do my duty at
Stone River, I knew this honor was undeserved; that there were others
more entitled to it. As the honor was bestowed by comrades who had
passed with me through the smoke and fire of that eventful day I will
cherish it to my dying hour as a precious legacy, one that I would proudly
transmit to my children if possible. Having mentioned the foregoing, I
must not fail to record another scrap of history equally important in its outcome,
as placing me under a weight of obligation to the company.
Some time in May, 1863, I was on picket duty as sergeant at outpost,
from which guards were sent out every two hours to relieve those on the
line. Guards at this outpost were expected to, and usually did, turn out
and present arms to the officer of the day, or other officer, when he came
around. On this particular day a cold, drizzling rain was falling, and the
officer wore a gum coat, concealing insignia of office, or special duty. Four
of the boys were pitching quoits (horse-shoes), as a means of diversion,
when the officer on horseback was observed in the distance through
woods. The quoit pitching ceased, and the boys made ready to "take
arms" and "fall in." But the horseman either did not see, or pretended
that he did not see the outpost, until he got well past a point in our front,
then quickly turning, dashed upon us. As I was satisfied the officer was
playing a "smart Aleck" game, I had said to the boys, "never mind; pay
no attention to him," and only two or three turned out. Arriving at the
outpost, reining his steed, and bowing up his neck with a self-satisfied air,
as though he thought himself "autocrat of all the Russias," officer demanded,
"Where's the corporal or sergeant in charge?" I responded "Here."
Officer inquired my name, rank, and regiment. Noting the information I
gave him, officer rode away, without giving his name, or business, as requested.
The latter I learned next day on returning to camp. An order
from Sheridan had been received by the company commander to "reduce
Sergeant Wm. H. Newlin to the ranks; fill vacancy, etc." An investigation
was had; those who had been on duty with me the past twenty-four hours
and myself, were summoned, and all the facts were stated. The general's
order was complied with—that had to be done—and an election was ordered
to be held at nine o'clock next morning, to fill vacancy thus created. The
hour for election arrived, and as there was no candidate against me I received
a unanimous vote, and was elected—not appointed—to "fill vacancy."
Division head-quarters was notified, "Order complied with; Wm. H. Newlin
reduced, and vacancy filled." And that was the end of it, except that
Lieutenant Kyger cautioned all the boys not to say any thing about the
matter in writing home, adding, "What if news of that should get back to
Georgetown?" But I didn't care where the news went to, whether to
Georgetown or Damascus, so all the facts were given.
[B]Note.—On morning, Sept. 3d, we followed company to Bridgeport,
arriving just as command was starting to cross the river. Being wearied by
the tramp, James T. Maudlin, Henderson Goodwin, William Martin, and
myself were again left in temporary hospital. Next morning, feeling much
refreshed, concluded to apply for passes to go on to company. We were
disappointed, myself in particular, as that date, Sept. 4, 1863, marked the
end of my twenty-first year. About noon, a long wagon train began crossing
the river, and while at dinner we conceived the idea of getting across,
under the guise of train guards. So, striking the train at a little distance
from the river, we distributed ourselves at intervals, among the wagons,
loading our luggage, except gun and bayonet. The scheme worked; and on
getting across, we repossessed ourselves of our luggage, and passed ahead
of the train. We diligently pressed forward until sunset. We then located
a camp, got roasting-ears from a field to our right, an iron pot, and water
at a house to our left, and in due time feasted, chatted, and retired for the
night, not knowing how near we might be to enemies, or how far from
friends. After midnight a terrible racket, to our front, awakened and
frightened us. Imagining the commotion was produced by a dash of the
enemy's cavalry, we arose in great haste, scattered our fire, gathered our
traps, and hied us away to the brush. The disturbance ceased, our excitement
subsided, and we resumed our former position. After breakfast next
morning we started, and on going one-fourth of a mile we came to a lot, of
say three acres, in which were a dozen or more horses, colts, and cows.
Up to nearly noon at least, we attributed the racket to the stock. Keeping
steadily on, and not meeting or overtaking any troops or trains, and the
road showing less indications of any having passed, we began to feel lonesome.
Just before noon, after passing a house on our left, we stopped,
and sent one of our squad back to inquire if any troops had passed that
morning. Comrade soon returned with information that a small body of
cavalry had passed, going south, about two hours before. Signs in the road,
and on either side, seemed to confirm the report, but as our scout had
failed to ascertain the character of the cavalry, he was sent for further
information. In answer to question as to whose, or what cavalry had
passed, our man was told it was "we'rn." Further inquiry established a
probability that it was a detachment of Roddy's Confederate cavalry. For
certain reasons we did not go back past the house, but kept straight
ahead, as though it was our business to overtake that detachment. Fifteen
minutes later we were following a road in an easterly direction. Going at
a "quick" gait, and being about to pass a bunch of pigs, averaging about
sixty pounds weight, we concluded we wouldn't pass all of them. It was
very quickly done, as we dare not fire a gun, or allow a pig to squeal much.
The choice parts of the pig were appropriated to our own special purposes.
After dinner we pursued our way, and soon discovered intersecting roads,
and evidences of the passage of troops and trains. Later our suspense was
ended, and before dark, of Sept. 6th, we had reached the company.
[C]Note.—Soon after capture were placed under a strong guard, our partners,
being Brown, Hesser, and North. Jos. C. Squires, an attachee, before
capture, of Gen. Rosecrans' staff, "stood in" with us a day or so, until
catching sight of Col. Von Strader. We dropped our extra ammunition in
Chickamauga Creek. Passed Ringgold, Sunday evening, about eight o'clock.
Four miles farther on, halted until morning. Arrived at Tunnell Hill about
noon, September 21st. A morsel of bacon issued to each man, a piece four
inches long, could have been drawn through a half-inch augur hole, without
squeezing out much grease. Boarded railroad train about three o'clock,
P. M., and started on tour of Confederacy. Rode on top of car part of time;
came near rolling off. Reached Atlanta night of September 22d. Put up
at Barracks. Next day were marched past a clerk at a table; gave clerk our
name, company and regiment. Drew rations, September 24th. Started
early; arrived at Augusta before night. Bought a huge watermelon; all we
could do to carry it; cost fifty cents. Were guarded closely in court-house
enclosure. Got away with melon by calling neighbors. September 25th,
took an early train for Columbia. Cars crowded as usual; excitement subsiding;
novelty of trip wearing off. Reached Columbia morning of 26th.
Were delayed three hours. Finally got started northward, the direction we
wanted to go, if we didn't stop too soon. Rode all day up to three o'clock.
Stopped at a little station near line between the Carolinas. Lots of sweet
potatoes on the platform; we let them alone. Many people were there,
mostly women, young and old. An old lady delivered an off-hand address,
giving advice to the "Yankees." She wanted to know why we "couldn't
let the South alone. We're not meddlin' with your affairs. You all go
back North and stay on your farms, and in your factories, and work-shops.
Yes, go back to your homes and make shoes for us." Reached Charlotte
late in the day. A few of the boys got away, and trouble and delay were
occasioned in getting them to train again. Next day, Sunday, September
27th, arrived at Raleigh. Were viewed by many people, mostly colored,
while waiting. Got under way again, traveled all night, arriving at Weldon
next day. Dismounted from cars; were guarded near railroad; drew
rations. Invested one dollar and a half in extras. Boarded train early on
September 29th, and dismounted no more until arriving at Richmond. Put
up at Libby about eleven o'clock the night of 29th. Paid Dick Turner
twelve dollars next day under protest. He said he would pay it back when
we were paroled or exchanged. Was never paroled or exchanged, so the
twelve dollars ain't due yet. Went to the Rosser (tobacco) house late on
the 30th. We were guided around to it. Stayed one night with Rosser,
then went to Smith and Pemberton houses, October 1st. On the way fell
in with Ellis and Thornton, of Company C. Stationary for quite a while;
had a diversity of pastime, read Testament, played checkers, fought vermin,
but never carried any rations over from one day to next. Kilpatrick—Jesse
D., not James, as we have it on page 10—joined our Seventy-third
delegation; his credentials were from Company B. Got our share of the
sugar. Stopped one night at Scott House; next day, November 14th, took
train for Danville, Va., arriving November 15th. Our delegation generally
agreed, worked and voted as a unit on all questions. Consisting of seven
members, we settled things among ourselves in committee, before going to
the full house. Attention was occupied a few days considering a plan for a
general break; plan never fully matured, i. e. in the full house; killed in
committee, no doubt. December 15th we seceded, withdrew from prison
No. 2, on account of small-pox, and went to hospital. In time recovered,
and was variously employed up to February 19, 1864. Formed new
acquaintances; organized a new alliance; seceded again, the night of date
last mentioned.
In issue of National Tribune of November 16, 1882, my comrade L. B.
Smith, criticises my narrative, in a manner complimentary to it, however.
He says, "Many important points are left out; all he has written is true,
and much more." Have supplied one of those "important points" on page
4, the very important one to comrade Smith. I refer to his rescue, by Sutherland,
from drowning in Craig's Creek. Another interesting, if not "important
point," left out, is that which includes the proposal, from a mulatto
girl of some fifteen Summers, that we should leave Smith with herself and
parents as a "hostage," security that we, after getting through, would send
a squad of cavalry after the whole family. Other interesting points were
some of our discussions as to feasibility of things proposed, such as the
taking of the horses, the third night out; which road to take—this, that, or
the other; and the project of unearthing money said to be hid in a certain
portion of a river bank. Another important and interesting point in Mr.
Smith's life did not come within the compass of my narrative, viz.: his
standing guard for a few minutes over Mr. Jefferson Davis, immediately
after, or within a day or two of his capture. Mr. Smith became twenty-one
years old in February, 1864, while on our trip. The cut—upper left
corner—represents Smith as he appeared at about the age of thirty years.
Another interesting point was the management, making a friend, by
Sutherland, of Huffman's dog. So skillfully did Sutherland get on the "good
side" of the dog that he never barked once, or gave his owner the slightest
intimation or warning of our approach. Comrade Sutherland, I believe, was
connected, in or about, the despatching of Maj. Ross' dog in Richmond. Mr.
Sutherland is, and has always been a farmer; is now fifty years old; cut—lower
right corner—represents him as he appeared probably ten years ago.
Other interesting points left out are those in the experience of comrade
Tripp, after his separation from our party, March 4, 1864. Did not know
until November, 1881, that Tripp had survived these experiences. Visiting
him last November I learned the particulars of his singular and somewhat
protracted wanderings after we left him. Want of space forbids any thing
like a record of them here. His loneliness, immediately following his misfortune
in being left, must have been oppressive; hungry and foodless, the
shades of night closing around him amid those rugged mountains, his feelings
can scarcely be imagined. With reluctance and fear he called, hoping
his recent companions, or some belated pursuer, might hear him; but there
was no answering voice, nothing but distressing silence, and his disappointment
was very great. Mr. Tripp is now fifty-seven years old; cut—lower
left corner—shows him as he appeared for some months after his discharge
in December, 1864. Wood and Taylor are accounted for on page 4. In
Wood's case the information is direct and official; he was about twenty-six
years old at time of his death. In Taylor's case the information is indirect
and circumstantial, but his fate is probably correctly indicated on
page 4. He was about twenty-seven years old at time we left him.
The engravings herewith, "The Ferry Scene," and "Left Alone," are
reasonably accurate and true to the reality. "Out of the Woods" is intended
to represent the general idea of escape, our troubles behind, our persevering,
unremitting efforts ended, and our safety assured. Though as
uniting, bringing together, two or three separate scenes, "Out of the Woods"
is also a faithful picture. Conceding that Taylor's fate, as the principal
figure in "Left Alone," was that, which all the information suggests, indescribably
sad, and gloomy must have been his last hour. Nothing of hope
or comfort in his anticipations of the future, his busy thoughts must have
drifted away from his surroundings and recent events, and sped across the
sea, and dwelt upon his father and mother there, who were ignorant of his
fate. This brings us to the events mentioned on page 109. At Georgetown,
while on furlough, we met Capt. Kyger and P. B. Huffman, of Company C.
Furlough soon run out. The rocks and hills about Georgetown seemed
very small. Separated from home and friends once more, and started in
company with Huffman for the front. This was in the latter part of April.
Encountered my escaping comrade Sutherland in Indianapolis, and accompanied
him the greater part of the way to Chattanooga. Arrived in camp
at Cleveland, May 2, 1864, just at sunset. Had to talk nearly all night, and
then get up next morning and start on the Atlanta campaign.