The chaplains of the army were good men, and we could not have well done without their services. But I think they were generally “free lances” in the army, and were permitted to go and come ad libitum—at least ours was. One morning our chaplain came into the camp after a visit to the town of Chapel Hill, and told among the soldiers that General Lee had surrendered his army to General Grant at Appomattox. Of course a matter of such importance was quickly circulated through the camp. When Colonel Smith heard it, he sent a guard down and had the chaplain arrested and brought to his quarters. Upon being asked why he was telling so improbable a tale among the soldiers, he replied that he was only telling what he had heard fully discussed and told by the citizens he had met. The Colonel told him to consider himself under arrest and to take a seat.
Hardly fifteen minutes had elapsed before one of the pickets brought in a man, saying that he had been arrested while trying to get through the picket stand to go home, as he said that he had surrendered. Telling pretty much the tale that the chaplain had, he drew from his pocket a paper, which he handed to Colonel Smith, reciting the fact of his surrender under General Lee. It was a bona fide army parole, with all the earmarks upon it, leaving no doubt of the fact in the mind. He stated further that he had learned that an armistice was pending between the armies of General Johnston and Sherman looking to a surrender, and that we would be notified soon. The man under arrest was told to go his way; and then, turning to the chaplain, Colonel Smith remarked: “I reckon you, too, have gained your case without introducing a witness. You, too, can go your way.” The same day we were notified of the pending armistice, and to come to a point beyond Ruffin’s Bridge, at a crossroad, to go into camp awaiting further orders. It would be impossible to describe the surprise created from the highest ranking officer to the humblest private by this news. They were dazed, and had never thought of a surrender. It is surprising, too, that they had not; for they were too intelligent not to know of the disastrous condition of affairs, and that they were fighting a force numerically larger than their own by at least ten to one. Had they not concluded that all left to them was to remain to the end and to let consequences take care of themselves—in other words, that honor dictated that there was nothing for them to do but, if need be, to die with the harness on?
We at once marched to the designated encampment, going through Chapel Hill, crossing Ruffin’s Bridge, and going into camp some twelve miles beyond it. We remained here, I suppose, ten days awaiting the return of the Johnston-Sherman capitulation. In the meantime the men took time to reflect, and had about settled down to the conclusion, after weighing all the facts, that this was about as favorable as they could expect, especially the second clause heretofore quoted—that they were to march home with their army accouterments, deposit them in their respective State Capitols, return to their homes, and obey the laws of the State and Federal authority. There was some show of recognition in this—that they were not to be considered as subjugated subjects, and were to return as veteran soldiers to their homes and families that many of them had not seen for four years.
During this interval the Third Arkansas and the Eighth and Eleventh Texas Regiments, whose homes were west of the Mississippi River, marched off home, saying that they were going to join Gen. Kirby Smith’s army and fight it out over there. No discipline or restraint could be imposed at this time. They tried to persuade the Fourth Tennessee to go with them on account of the ties of true comradeship that had existed between them so long and during such trying scenes as they had shared together. A few did go; but better counsels prevailed, and the body of them remained, leaving Colonel Smith in command of a brigade of 250 men of the Fourth Tennessee Cavalry, besides about twenty of the relieved commissioned officers from the infantry who were reporting to him.
The time was spent in social visitation among the troops, the exchanging of addresses, and dreaming of home. We were invited to a dinner at General Bate’s headquarters, near by; but his negro servant, Ben, got drunk that day, and, unfortunately, we did not get as much dinner as we expected. The pine woods of North Carolina were flooded with old applejack, and the soldiers, of course, got their full supply of it. While we were at General Bate’s headquarters an officer was seen at a distance in a field drilling his command as if the war had just started. Some one asked: “Who is that fool officer?” The reply came back that it was Gen. John C. Brown drilling his command.
This dream of home and loved ones was cut short one night when a mounted man inquired for Colonel Smith’s headquarters. He was properly directed, and on coming up presented an order. Upon stirring up the fire to see, I read: “The armistice is over. You will take your brigade and go to or near Ruffin’s Bridge and place your pickets covering the roads leading toward Raleigh.” The company commanders were ordered to arouse the men, mount, and be ready to move out, as we had to go on picket duty. Of course many questions were asked as to what was up now. No answer could be made except that the order said that the armistice was at an end. In fact, before the Johnston-Sherman agreement could be acted upon, Mr. Lincoln had been assassinated by Booth. The Northern press, as well as the entire North, was asserting that the killing had been instigated by Southern citizens. There was a perfect storm of rage and frenzy, such, as has been said, that if an individual had expressed himself to the contrary he would have been torn to pieces by the wild and excited mob. Of course the treaty had been rejected, and hence the order to go on picket duty again. Silently and without saying a word, the 250 men of the Fourth Tennessee Regiment, all that was left of the brigade, moved out to the post of duty. They would have been taken for a funeral procession. These men had passed through hundreds of battles and skirmishes where blood had been drawn, and many of them had more than one battle scar upon their persons; but this was the grandest and noblest act of their soldier lives—still faithfully pursuing the line of duty when their star of hope had set forever. I remember that it was a bright moonlight night, and the shimmering light through the dense foliage of the forest of tall pines through which we were passing gave the scene a graveyard appearance. Nothing was lacking save the lonesome call of the whippoorwill or the mournful wailing of the night owl to have completed the picture. We reached the place to which we had been ordered. After the placing of the pickets, a courier came to headquarters with an order for Colonel Smith to repair to his former camp, as another armistice had been agreed upon.
On the 26th day of April, 1865, General Johnston surrendered his army of about 20,000 to General Sherman. General Johnston had issued the following, which was read to the different commands:
Terms of a military convention entered into the 26th day of April, 1865, at Bennett’s house, near Durham Station, N. C., between Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, commanding the Confederate army, and Maj. Gen. W. T. Sherman, commanding the United States army in North Carolina:
1. All acts of war on the part of the troops under General Johnston’s command to cease from this date.
2. All arms and public property to be deposited at Greensboro and delivered to an ordnance officer of the United States.