Though numbers of the enemy visited the camps and plied the men with all sorts of questions, seeming very curious and inquisitive, not an unkind word was said on either side that day. When the skirmishers under McRae entered the camp of the battalion, their enthusiastic descriptions of driving the enemy and being driven in turn failed to produce any effect. Many of the men were sobbing and crying, like children recovering from convulsions of grief after a severe whipping. They were sorely grieved, mortified, and humiliated. Of course they had not the slightest conception of the numbers of the enemy who surrounded them.
Other men fairly raved with indignation, and declared their desire to escape or die in the attempt; but not a man was heard to blame General Lee. On the contrary, all expressed the greatest sympathy for him and declared their willingness to submit at once, or fight to the last man, as he ordered. At no period of the war was he held in higher veneration or regarded with more sincere affection, than on that sad and tearful day.
In the afternoon the little remnant of the army was massed in a field. General Gordon spoke to them most eloquently, and bade them farewell. General Walker addressed his division, to which Cutshaw's battalion was attached, bidding them farewell. In the course of his remarks he denounced fiercely the men who had thrown down their arms on the march, and called upon the true men before him to go home and tell their wives, mothers, sisters, and sweethearts how shamefully these cowards had behaved.
General Henry A. Wise also spoke, sitting on his horse and bending forward over the pommel of his saddle. Referring to the surrender, he said, "I would rather have embraced the tabernacle of death."
There were many heaving bosoms and tear-stained faces during the speaking. A tall, manly fellow, with his colors pressed to his side, stood near General Gordon, convulsed with grief.
The speaking over, the assembly dispersed, and once more the camp-fires burned brightly. Night brought long-needed rest. The heroes of many hard-fought battles, the conquerors of human nature's cravings, the brave old army, fell asleep—securely guarded by the encircling hosts of the enemy. Who will write the history of that march? Who will be able to tell the story? Alas! how many heroes fell!
The paroles, which were distributed on Tuesday, the 11th, were printed on paper about the size of an ordinary bank check, with blank spaces for the date, name of the prisoner, company, and regiment, and signature of the commandant of the company or regiment. They were signed by the Confederate officers themselves, and were as much respected by all picket officers, patrols, etc., of the Federal army as though they bore the signature of U. S. Grant. The following is a copy of one of these paroles, recently made from the original:
Appomattox Court House, Virginia,
April 10, 1865.
The bearer, Private —— ——, of Second Company Howitzers, Cutshaw's Battalion, a paroled prisoner of the Army of Northern Virginia, has permission to go to his home and there remain undisturbed.