On the day that General Sherman reached Rienzi, I supped with him at the house of a friend. At table the following dialogue took place between us.
“Are you the person from whom Sherman’s battery took its name?”
“I am, sir.”
“Many gentlemen in this county,” said I, “and among them my father-in-law, have pipes made of the fragments of the gun-carriages of Sherman’s battery, which was captured at Manassas by the Confederates.”
“Sherman’s battery was not captured at Manassas,” replied the General.
“The honour of capturing Sherman’s battery is generally accorded to the second regiment of Mississippi volunteers, which went from this county and the adjoining county of Tippah, though several regiments claim it, and many of my friends declare that they have seen Sherman’s battery since its capture.”
“I assure you, sir, Sherman’s battery was not captured—so far from this, it came out of the battle of Manassas Plains with two pieces captured from the enemy, having itself lost none.”
At this moment Colonel Fry, who killed Zollikoffer, rode up for orders. While receiving them, the horses attached to a battery halted in front of us. “There,” said the General, “is every piece of Sherman’s battery. I ought to know that battery, and I assure you there is not a gun missing.”
The pipes, canes, and trinkets supposed to be made of the wood of Sherman’s battery, if collected, would form a vast pile; and were you to inform the owners of those relics that they were spurious, you would be politely informed that you might “tell that tale to the marines,” as their sons and their neighbours’ sons were the honoured captors of that battery; a fact, concerning the truth of which they entertained not even the shadow of a doubt.