CHAPTER XV.
So one good afternoon, J. B. Thomas, a good clever comrade and good soldier, and myself took a stroll and incidentally looking for something to eat. We passed a vegetable garden, a luxury we seldom enjoyed. On the side of the pailings were some squashes. Thomas remarked, I wish I had some of them. I said, "Well, slip one of those palings and get a few, I'll be on the watch out." No sooner said than done. Thomas gathered about a dozen the size of my fist. He stuck them in his shirt bosom. I gave him the alarm that the lady was watching him. As he looked up he saw her at the other end of the garden. He started through the opening he had made quicker than a rabbit could have done when pursued by hounds. Thomas is a man of small stature and very short legged, but he split the air to beat the band. We were both in our shirt sleeves, no vests, only wore pants confined around the waist by a belt, the squashes were bobbing up and down in his shirt, as he progressed and the proprietress after him. Finally the squashes lifted the shirt out of his confines and down came the squashes rolling on the ground. Thomas did not stop, but casting a regretful side glance at his booty, he sped on to camp, while his garment was floating to the breeze, caused by his velocity. When the woman reached the spot where the squashes lay scattered, she stopped, looking after the fleeing individual and sending a full vocabulary of invectives after him. I who had followed leisurely caught up while she gathered her squashes into her apron. I remarked, "Madam, you seem to have spilled your vegetables." "No, it was not me that spilled them, it's that good for nothing somebody, there he runs—he stole them out of my garden." I said, "He ought not to have done it, if I knew who he was I would report him." She said, "I would not have minded to give him some if he had asked me for them, but I don't like for anybody to go into my garden and take what belongs to me." Poor woman, she had no idea that within a few days after our departure, the enemy would appear and not only appropriate the needful, but would destroy all the rest to keep her from enjoying any of it. She offered me some of the squashes which I accepted with thanks. I carried them to Thomas, saying she would have given you some if you had asked for them. Thomas replied, he wished he had known it.
CHAPTER XVI.
The fall of Vicksburg ended the Mississippi Campaign, and our troops were ordered to join the Army of Tennessee. All had left with the exception of the Mississippi Regiment and our battery who were awaiting transportation. Our commissary had also gone ahead of us and so we were left to "root hog or die." We had to eat once in awhile any how. Quinton Dudley and myself took a stroll to the commissary of the Mississippi Regiment. I learned that his name was Coleman. Passing through the building which was an old wooden railroad warehouse about a hundred feet long and forty wide, Quinton picked up a piece of rock salt from a large pile. Captain Coleman saw him put something in his haversack. In a brisk manner, said, "What is that you have taken?" He showed him a piece of salt the size of a hen egg. "Put it back," he hollowed at him. Quinton threw it back on the pile very much humiliated. On our leaving the building, I spied on the platform at the other end of the warehouse a large hogshead full of smoked meat of all descriptions, there were sides, shoulders and hams. They looked very enticing for hungry men like we were. We went to camp and reported how that Captain had caught Quinton who was very timid and did not like to be caught in the act. Others felt different about such. We were entitled to a living while in the field on duty. Some suggested that we go and charge the commissary and get some rations. I said, "That would bring on some trouble. Maybe we might get some of that meat by strategy," so we planned that W. N. Harmon should take ten men around and about the warehouse, while I would engage the Captain in conversation, during which time Harmon and his men would help themselves to rations. I awaited an opportune moment when Captain Coleman was at the other end of the building from where the hogshead of meat stood. Entering by that end, I walked squarely up to the Captain, extending my hand. "How do you do, Captain Coleman? I'm very glad to meet you, it is an unexpected pleasure. How long since you have heard from home?" He looked at me in surprise, holding onto my hand. I heard some meat drop on the ground. I knew the meat was flying campwards. "Well," said Capt. Coleman, "you have the advantage of me." "Don't you know me?" says I? He replied, "Well, your face is familiar to me, but I can't place you. Are you not from Emanuel county, Georgia?" "No, but I have some kinfolks in Georgia with my name." "Well, then I am mistaken and beg your pardon." "We have a lake on the Ogeechee River called Coleman's Lake. I went there often for fishing, and was sure you were one of the Colemans that lived there when at home. You favor them very much." "Well, said he, they may be some kin to me." By that time, between thirty and forty pieces of meat had changed hands. The next morning transportation came, and we loaded the cars which carried us to the Tennessee Army, then under the command of General Bragg, who was then retreating, leaving Tennessee to the tender care of the Federals, under command of General Rosencrantz. Our forces took a stand around and about Lookout Mountain and Chickamauga. We struck camp some distance from the main forces after unloading the train and watering and feeding the horses. The boys took a swim in the river, a luxury not realized for many days past. I was detailed to cut underbrush in the woods to assist stretching ropes to corral our horses. I was not quite as green in handling an axe by this time as I was in Virginia, when I was detailed to cut wood for the blacksmith shop. I was again taken sick with risings in my ear. I suffered as only those who ever suffered with such affliction knew how to extend their sympathy. The pains were simply excruciating and threw me into hot fever. We were ordered to strike camps. We marched that forenoon until eleven o'clock. The sun was shining in full force. I could no longer keep up. I stopped by the roadside and lay down, waiting for the Company's baggage wagon to come along. Lorenzo Stephens was the driver. After awhile he appeared on foot. One of the rear axles of his wagon having broken, he therefore hurried forward to get some assistance. In the meantime, the ambulance came along in charge of the Company surgeon. He had me picked up and placed in it. He said I had high fever and gave me some medicine, and as we passed the station of a railroad, the name of which I did not know, I was put on the train with others and sent to the Atlanta Hospital, in charge of Dr. Paul Eve, of Augusta, Dr. Rosser being in charge of my ward. I was suffering terribly, both of my ears were discharging corruption. Through suffering and hardship, my general health was giving away. I needed rest and time to recuperate. Medicines were hard to get, and I was slow in recovering my strength. One day Dr. Rosser asked me if I would like to have a furlough. He thought it would help me. I said, "Yes, the best in the world, as soon as I can gain a little strength," so he and Dr. Eve came to my cot the following morning, and after examining my condition, departed. Dr. Rosser came again in the afternoon and handed me a thirty days furlough. I was very grateful to him. He was a perfect gentleman, hard working and sympathetic. I came home to my foster mother, Mrs. Jas. L. Braswell, under whose care I soon gained strength.
