On this retreat it was difficult to find food for the army, and first one command, then another, ran mighty short. Passing through a mountainous thinly settled country during Christmas week, our Captain gave a few permits to different individuals to forage off the line of march. One forager heard of some mills along a creek some miles off the line of retreat, and struck out for them horseback. On his arrival at the first, he found it crowded with infantry men, each guarding his sack of wheat, and awaiting his turn to run it through the mill. The miller was there, and was asked if he could sell a sack of wheat. He replied: "these soldiers say they are bound to have all there is, and I help them grind it, to save injury to my mill. The wheat belongs to the neighborhood." "Where is there another mill?" "About three miles down the creek." Off our forager rode. He saw that money nor begging would prevail to get bread and determined on a bluff. The next mill had soldiers claiming all the wheat, but some of it was in boxes or bins. He called the miller out, and offered to pay for a couple of bushels. "It is not mine, said the miller, it belongs to people around here, but I had better take even Confederate money for it, than nothing at all, and if you can get a couple of bushels, go ahead." So into the mill our man went, with his sack, and walked up to a box holding perhaps ten bushels, on which sat a soldier with his rifle leaning against the box, with the request: "Let me get at the box, if you please." "You can't get any of this meal, our men need it all", reaching for his gun. "I'll show you about that, Sir, my men have had no bread for three days, and some of this wheat, I'm going to have" and he began shoveling it into his sack, regardless of protests, until sack was full; then he said, "that is all I want," turned to the mill hopper dumped it in, as soon as the same was about empty, putting his sack under the spout. When his sack was full of whole wheat meal, he tied it, paid the miller and rode off rejoicing. When he found the command that night, some hogs had been brought and issued by the commissary, and the two bushels of wheat meal was a Godsend. Our mess, after breakfast next morning, divided out to each, eleven big army biscuits apiece, but before dinner time, one gaunt member of the mess had finished up his lot and was on the lookout for more.
Recrossing the Tennessee river on the —— day of December near Brainbridge, we camped a few days near Tuka, Mississippi, for rest and a general cleaning up, but many soldiers had no clothing except the ragged suits they had on, and cleaning involved the washing and drying of a portion of their garments at a time.
A Confederate private at that time could be pictured in words about thus: A pair of old shoes or boots, with soles gaping, and tied to the uppers with strings, no socks, threadbare pants, patched at the knees, burnt out at the bottom behind, half way to his knees, his back calves black with smoke, from standing with his back to fires, his shirt sticking out of holes in rear of his pants, a weather beaten jeans jacket out at elbows and collar greasy, and an old slouch wool hat hanging about his face, with a tuft of hair sticking out at the crown.
The officers, in many cases, did not show up much better. In either case, the man, who had a negro body servant along, fared the best, and was kept clothed the best.
The negro slaves usually had money in their pockets, when their masters had none, that they made serving officers and men in many ways.
The writer's own servant, Jim Bobbett by name, had left his wife on my father's plantation in Tuscaloosa County, Alabama, but had no children. He was selected from several who desired the place, as being a handy fellow all round. A pure negro, with flat nose, and merry disposition. From mere love of myself and a determination to see that I should never lack food or clothing, as long as he could obtain the wherewithal to prevent it, he was faithful in that service, just as a Confederate soldier was faithful in the service of the government he was fighting for. He wore a broad flat waterproof belt next to his skin, and scarcely ever had less than $100.00 therein, and often as high as $1,000.00. He was a good barber and clothes cleaner, and a handy man in many ways, and a few weeks stop of the army in camp soon replenished his "bank" and out of it he generally procured what was needed for me or himself or his friends, without any interference or direction from me.
If he got more than he needed, he disposed of his surplus at a profit. I suppose that if neither a slick tongue nor money would procure necessities, he did not hesitate to "press" them. But his jolly flattering tongue, with the women of his race, along our routes made him their favorite, and when he bade them "goodbye" his "grub" bucket would be filled with the best to be had. When he and his pals were behind, when the wagon train came up, we did not kick, but would turn in, perhaps supperless, to sleep, knowing that some time before day, they would arrive with something to fill us up.
I suppose that some of his class did desert to the enemy, but the large majority were true as steel to their masters and their duty, from the beginning to the end, often at great personal risk and none attached to our company ever deserted. They could have done so easily at any time, and been free inside of the enemies' lines, but personal loyalty to their masters and their own people, as they considered their master's families held them cheerfully to their duty. There was no compulsion about it. They struggled and foraged and speculated at their own sweet will, yet all the time, looking out for their master's interests over and above all else.
These facts are some of the strongest proofs, that between masters and slaves of those old days, there were ties as strong as steel, in the close personal relationship that neither forgot. It had its counterpart in the love and service of the old "Mammy" to her master's family and children. She loved them, and delighted to serve and care for them, sometimes to the neglect of her own flesh and blood.
One morning in bivouac, near Tuka, at breakfast, around the officers fire, there was served a fine skillet full of fried pigeons, with gravey and biscuit, washed down with burnt corn coffee. Old "Ike," Lt. Caldwell's darky had come in during the night from a forage, Lieut Hargrove with the others of the mess, was enjoying the meal when all at once, Hargrove says: "Ike, where did you get these pigeons?" "Oh! Marse Cole, don't you bodded about dat. You eat your breakfast." "Ike, you old rascal, I believe you stole these pigeons, and if I had anything else to eat, I wouldn't eat them." "Dar now, Marse Cole, it's a blessed thing, dat you'se got me and dese udder fellows to look atter dis mess, kaze if it twant for us, you'd go hungry many a time, and dats a fac." "Well," said another officer, "its a bully old breakfast any how, and we don't know when we'll get such another." From Tuka, the command with its wagons marched to Columbus, Mississippi, where it went into camp near the outskirts of the town. Here, there came down from Corinth, Aleck Dearing and John Bartee, who having been on sick furlough in Tuscaloosa, had missed the Tennessee campaign, with them were some others and also some conscripts among whom was Richard Maxwell, the youngest of the old firm of T. J. R. & R. Maxwell, who had to at last take the field, having served some time in Leach & Avery's hat factory and thus exempt for that time from conscription. This squad of returning men, had charge of boxes of clothing for most of the men in the command and provisions furnished by friends and relatives in Tuscaloosa, which they had gotton up to Corinth with it trying to reach Hood's army, wherever it might be. At Corinth some quartermaster had furnished them a wall tent with "fly" to protect the goods. When ordered to move with the goods from Corinth, down to Columbus, by train, they were ordered to return the tent and fly. But they were too experienced old soldiers for that, so they hustled boxes, tent and all to the train, and came on to Columbus, with the whole lay out. They made a present of the fly to the officers of the company, and kept the tent to protect the goods until distributed, and incidently themselves. This tent and fly were the only ones left in the company now, as nothing of the kind had been on hand for many a month.