After about two weeks I succeeded in getting a horse with the regiment and continued with the regiment during the whole of the North Georgia campaign, the details of which I will not venture to insert, as they will be recorded fully in a history now being written by Colonel Ben F. Weems of Houston.
During the siege of Atlanta General Sherman started out two cavalry expeditions, one under a General Stoneman to move around the right wing of our army, and one under General McCook around the left wing of our army, both to unite on the Macon line of railroad, and to destroy and tear up the same, then move on to Andersonville and release our prisoners. Had these expeditions proven a success, with an army of probably twenty-five or thirty thousand released prisoners turned loose in our rear, it would have wound up the Confederacy. At Atlanta, General Hood took command of our army, not exceeding thirty-six thousand muskets and, to use his words, “This army through General Johnston’s retreating from Dalton, had become an army of laborers by day and travelers by night,” while the army at Dalton, including Polk’s corps at Rome, numbered eighty-six thousand muskets, and was better equipped and organized than any army the West had ever had. The North Georgians and Tennesseans, largely constituting this army, with their families inside of the enemy’s lines, were anxious and eager for an advance, and there is no question of doubt had General Hood been permitted to give battle at Dalton, our army would have recaptured Tennessee and Kentucky.
Referring back to the enemy’s cavalry expedition out of Atlanta: General Stoneman, with a large part of his force, and a lot of convalescents in the town of Macon, Georgia, were captured near Macon by General Iverson, commanding Georgia cavalry. General Wheeler with our brigade, Ross’ and Roddy’s, forced McCook to a general engagement on the evening of the second day between Noonan and Philpott’s Ferry, where they finally surrendered, with the exception of himself and staff, and Colonel Brownlow and some other line officers, who swam the river that night and made their escape.
General Wheeler issued an order that night for no man to cross the river after these fellows, when I, with several of our regiment, decided there must be some mistake about it and crossed the river to try to catch these fellows, specially anxious to capture Colonel Brownlow. Immediately after crossing the river we found a quartermaster’s clerk, so he represented himself to be, left wounded at a house. His wound, however, was not very serious we thought. He had on a magnificent pair of boots, which just about fitted me and I had been unable to secure boots, only wearing shoes, when I proposed to him to exchange with me, which he readily did. While he was pulling off his boots, the lady of the house came in and opened a tirade of abuse on me for taking a poor, wounded man’s boots. I told her I had but just come out of a Federal prison where they treated us worse than that and I was satisfied that my shoes would prove more comfortable to this man at Andersonville, than the boots, to which our prisoner agreed. We then continued our pursuit on the main road to Wedowee, the county seat of Randolph County, Alabama, occasionally taking a prisoner, whom we would turn over to reliable citizens, to be taken to West Point where we had a garrison. We were unable to secure many prisoners, probably not exceeding eight or ten, as those afoot would hear us coming in the road and dart into the brush, while their officers impressed every horse they could lay their hands on and soon outdistanced us with their fresh horses.
At Wedowee we found a tanyard, where I purchased a lot of good leather, sufficient to rig a Texas saddle. We had some men detailed to make saddles, who were experts in such work and moved down with the army as fast as it retreated. Our first shop was at Ackworth, Georgia, where they did a good deal of work, but were prevented from turning out anything extensive ever after, for the reason they were unable to get leather. I paid one hundred and twenty-five dollars for the leather I got at this tanyard. Colonel Harrison promised me, after my return from prison, that if I would furnish the leather he would have rigged for me one of the finest saddles that could be made, which was the inducement for me to carry this roll of leather on my horse’s back.
Going back into the town from the tanyard, we stopped at a hotel to get some dinner. This was one of the ordinary country hotels with a porch in front and large square columns under the porch. While eating dinner, I had a seat at the end of the table where I could see out on the street. The hotel was located somewhat under the hill, away from the square, when I discovered Carter Walker, one of our party, who had finished dinner, behind one of the posts with his pistol out, talking to some one on the street towards the courthouse. Having his pistol out suggested to me that there was trouble ahead, so I jumped up and told the boys to come on. As we got out on the porch we discovered about fifteen or twenty men on their horses near the courthouse, with one of them talking to Carter Walker, about fifty yards distant from us. As soon as we came out, he retired and when he got back with his crowd, said something to them and immediately they wheeled and left town. This proved to be a party of bushwhackers, who were not anxious for a fight with us. We now decided to return and when a few miles from town, we heard of an old gentleman, whose name I have forgotten, the only Rebel citizen in that section, whom we decided to go and see and get some information from.
After reaching his house and getting acquainted, we decided, on his urgent request, to stay with him that night, as we were very tired, as were also our horses, and we did not suppose there was any great need for our services immediately after the destruction of the enemy’s cavalry. This old gentleman had had considerable trouble with his Tory neighbors, who came to his house several nights and opened fire on him, which he, his old lady and his daughter, a barefooted girl of eighteen, returned with their squirrel rifles through port holes cut in the logs of his house.
On the information of our old friend, we decided to visit the house of a Tory neighbor of his, across the mountain, who belonged to the Tory regiment in camp at Rome, which we did. Riding up to the house in blue overcoats, we called for a drink of water, when a lady invited us in, supposing that we were Federal soldiers. In our talk with them, there being two other ladies in the house, we represented that we were Federal spies on our way to Andersonville to make arrangements about the escape of our prisoners there, which created quite an interest with these women, who told us that a large number of young men of the neighborhood belonged to the First Federal Alabama Cavalry, stationed near Rome, and quite a number of them were expected home pretty soon on a furlough. We then arranged with them to tell their boys about our visit and tell them that we expected to return there in about ten days, as we would probably need their assistance and we wanted to confer with them. Our idea was that we would return there at that time, with our company, and capture the whole outfit.
After making complete arrangements, we started back towards Philpott’s Ferry, where we again recrossed the Chattahoochie and, on our arrival at Noonan, found that Wheeler had moved over to Covington, on the Augusta road.
Riding all that day in a drizzling rain, we called at a house for the purpose of getting some feed for our horses and something to eat for ourselves. Night had already set in. We asked the gentleman if he could take care of us that night, give us a place to sleep on the floor, as we never slept in a bed, and get something to eat for our horses and ourselves. His answer was, “Certainly, gentlemen; light and come in.” I told him before we got off our horses that we were about out of money and did not have enough, perhaps, to pay our fare, when he stated that if his wife had anything left from supper we could have it and he would give us some shattered corn for our horses. We, of course, didn’t feel very comfortable under such liberality, but decided to stay, nevertheless, and sleep down in his barn, some distance from the house.