Says, Adjutant Pope, now a staid Judge on the Supreme Court Bench.
"The Third South Carolina Infantry had been placed on pickets in front of Early in September, 1864. The point at which picket were posted were at two fords on the Opequan River, Captain Dickert, with his company, was posted at some distance from the place where the other portion of the Regiment was posted to cover one of the fords. I can see now the work laid cut for Captain Dickert, ought to have been assigned to the Cavalry for a company of Infantry, say a half mile from the Regiment, might have been surrounded too quickly for the company to be retired or to receive assistance from the Regiment. Well, as it was, no harm came of it for the company held the ford unassailable. A company of the Regiment was placed at a ford on the highway as it crossed the river. While a few officers were enjoying a nice supper here comes an order to call in the companies on picket and to follow the Regiment with all possible speed towards Winchester, to which latter place the army of Early had already gone. Guides were sent to us, and our Regiment had marched by country road until we struck the turn-pike. The march was necessarily rapid lest the Regiment might be assailed by overwhelming numbers of the enemy. The soldiers did not fancy this rapid marching.
To our surprise and horror, after we had reached the turn-pike road, and several miles from our destination, the soldiers set up an imitation of barking, just as if a lot of hounds in close pursuit of a fresh jumped fox. Now any one at all familiar with the characteristic of the soldier know imitation is his weak point, one yell, all yell, [426] one sing, all sing, if one is merry, all are merry. We were near the enemy, and the Colonel knew the necessity of silence, and caution Colonel Rutherford was, of course indignant at this outburst of good humor in the dark watches of the night, and the enemy at our heels or flank. He sent back orders by me (Pope) to pass down the lines and order silence. But 'bow-wow,' 'bow,' 'bow-wow,' 'yelp, yelp,' and every conceivable imitation of the fox hound rent the air. One company on receiving the orders to stop this barking would cease, but others would take it up. 'Bow-wow,' 'toot,' 'toot,' 'yah-oon,' 'yah-oon,' dogs barking, men hollowing, some blowing through their hands to imitate the winding of the huntman's horn. 'Stop this noise,' 'cease your barking,' 'silence,' still the chase continued. 'Go it, Lead,' 'catch him, Frail,' 'Old Drive close to him,' 'hurah Brink,' 'talk to him old boys.' The valley fairly rung, with this chase. Officers even could not refrain from joining in the encouragement to the excited dogs as the noise would rise and swell and echoe through the distant mountain gorges to reverberate up and down the valley—at last wore out by their ceaseless barking and yelling, the noise finally died out, much to the satisfaction of the Colonel commanding, myself and the officers who were trying to stop it. As mortified as I was at my inability to execute the orders of Colonel Rutherford, still I never laughed so much in my life at this ebullition of good feelings of the men, after all their toils and trials, especially as I would hear some one in the line call out as if in the last throes of exhaustion, 'Go on old dog,' 'now you are on him,' 'talk to him, old Ranger.' What the Yankees thought of this fox chase at night in the valley, or what their intentions might have been is not known, but they would have been mighty fools to have tackled a lot of old 'Confeds' out on a lark at night."
The negro cooks of the army were a class unique in many ways. While he was a slave, he had far more freedom than his master, in fact had liberties that his master's master did not possess. It was the first time in the South's history that a negro could roam at will, far and wide, without a pass. He could ride his dead master's horse from Virginia to Louisiana without molestation. On the march the country was his, and so long as he was not in the way of moving bodies of troops, the highways were open to him. He was never jostled or pushed [427] aside by stragglers, and received uniform kindness and consideration from all. The negro was conscious of this consideration, and never took advantage of his peculiar station to intrude upon any of the rights or prerogatives exclusively the soldier's. He could go to the rear when danger threatened, or to the front when it was over. No negro ever deserted, and the fewest number ever captured. His master might fall upon the field, or in the hands of the enemy, but the servant was always safe. While the negro had no predilection for war in its realities, and was conspicuous by his absence during the raging of the battles, still he was among the first upon the field when it was over, looking after the dead and wounded. At the field hospitals and infirmaries, he was indispensable, obeying all, serving all, without question or complaint. His first solicitude after battle was of his master's fate—if dead, he sought him upon the field; if wounded, he was soon at his side. No mother could nurse a child with greater tenderness and devotion than the dark-skinned son of the South did his master.
At the breaking out of the war almost every mess had a negro cook, one of the mess furnishing the cook, the others paying a proportional share for hire; but as the stringency of the Subsistence Department began to grow oppressive, as the war wore on, many of these negroes were sent home. There was no provision made by the department for his keep, except among the officers of the higher grade; so the mess had to share their rations with the cook, or depend upon his ability as a "forager." In the later years of the war the country occupied by the armies became so devastated that little was left for the "forager." Among the officers, it was different. They were allowed two rations (only in times of scarcity they had to take the privates' fare). This they were required to pay for at pay day, and hence could afford to keep a servant. Be it said to the credit of the soldiers of the South, and to their servants as well, that during my four years and more of service I never heard of, even during times of the greatest scarcity, a mess denying the cook an equal share of the scanty supply, or a servant ever found stealing a soldier's rations. There was a mutual feeling of kindness and honesty between the two. If all the noble, generous and loyal acts of the negroes of the army could be recorded, it would fill no insignificant volume.
There was as much cast among the negroes, in fact more, as among the soldiers. In times of peace and at home, the negro based his claims of cast upon the wealth of his master. But in the army, rank of his master overshadowed wealth. The servant of a Brigadier felt royal as compared to that of a Colonel, and the servant of a Colonel, or even a Major, was far ahead, in superiority and importance, to those belonging to the privates and line officers. The negro is naturally a hero worshiper. He gloried in his master's fame, and while it might often be different, in point of facts, still to the negro his master was "the bravest of the brave."
As great "foragers" as they were, they never ventured far in front while on the advance, nor lingered too dangerously in the rear on the retreat. They hated the "Yankee" and had a fear of capture. One day while we were camped near Charlestown an officer's cook wandered too far away in the wrong direction and ran up on the Federal pickets. Jack had captured some old cast-off clothes, some garden greens and an old dominicker rooster. Not having the remotest idea of the topography of the country, he very naturally walked into the enemy's pickets. He was halted, brought in and questioned. The Federals felt proud of their capture, and sought to conciliate Jack with honeyed words and great promises. But Jack would have none of it.
"Well, look er here," said Jack, looking suspiciously around at the soldiers; "who you people be, nohow?"
"We are Federal soldiers," answered the picket.