During the battle we were commanded by Capt. Henry A. Cannon of Wayne County, Georgia. At the beginning of the battle, after all our men were in position, I was standing within a few feet of Captain Cannon. I whispered in his ear that it was his duty to lie down, or protect himself behind a tree as I was doing. The enemy was charging in front of us, and I was satisfied no one could stand before such a fire. He refused to move, but stood with his sword drawn calling on the men to be steady. I had hardly spoken before a ball struck him. He staggered backward saying, "I am a dead man." With my left arm under him I lowered him to the ground. He died at once. He was a good officer and a brave man. We were together in the same mess. I wrote to his wife an account of his death and sent her a small amount of Confederate money that Captain Cannon had left with me. The day before the battle, while riding near a great live oak tree, he had said if he should die in battle he would like to be buried under its branches, so he was wrapped in his military cloak and buried there. In this battle I lost another friend, Lieutenant Dancy of Lake City, Florida.
At that time I had but three or four men in my company. They were tried and true soldiers and were too few to require any attention from me. So I went into the battle with the arms of a private soldier.
On hearing of the battle of Olustee my brother Tom returned to the regiment, a very ghost of his former self. He was wholly unfit for any kind of service and had to have a negro man to accompany him. Strange as it may appear, camp life seemed to agree with him and he soon reported for duty.
Our camp life in Florida's piny woods was varied with sham battles between different regiments; the men used lighted pine burrs at night as ammunition. Another entertainment was digging gophers and often a rattlesnake out of their holes. We ate the gophers and killed the snakes. I remember one rattler that measured over ten feet and whose head was as broad as my hand, to stuff its skin took a bushel of bran, and a straw was run through the hollow of its fangs. I have never before or since seen such a serpent. It came out of a gopher's hole to warm in the sun and its head was cut off by an officer's sword.
The troops of both armies soon left Florida. Our regiment was partly filled up with returning invalids and recruits. We stopped at Savannah and were sent on Whitemarsh Island to aid in the coast defense. There and upon Wilmington Island we performed picket duty upon an extensive scale. For a short time we were engaged in guarding a large number of Federal prisoners, who had been brought from Andersonville to be turned over to the United States fleet stationed at the mouth of the Savannah River. The United States Government refused to exchange prisoners of war with the Confederate States. The Confederate authorities wished to avoid feeding and guarding so many prisoners. So several thousand were forced on their government on the plea of sickness, although not one in ten was really sick. These prisoners were taken down the river on flat barges. I remember their shout of joy when they saw the Stars and Stripes floating from the masts of the transports which waited to receive them.
About this time General W. T. Sherman commenced his famous march through Georgia, with nearly one hundred thousand men in his command. There was no force to oppose them. And their course was marked by fire and pillage. My mother's house in Milledgeville was robbed of everything of value. My mother and sisters fled to Macon just before this army of robbers had reached Milledgeville. All the men that could be gathered together opposed Sherman's army as it approached Savannah. Our regiment marched from Whitemarsh Island and occupied a prominent position in the breastwork of defense. General Sherman and his army confronted us and although twenty times our number they refused to attack us, although we offered them defiance for several days. General Sherman's tactics as a general was exemplified here. He opposed us with an entrenched line more than equal to ours and sent a large force to occupy our flank, thus forcing us to retreat. Our regiment of about two hundred and fifty men was commanded by Colonel R. A. Wayne, a cool, fearless, officer. I was on duty as adjutant of the regiment. We felt the hazard of our position. The rumor came along the line that we were to be surrendered as prisoners. We were determined to resist to the utmost. Suddenly at nightfall we evacuated our entrenchments and crossed the Savannah River, leaving the city to be occupied by General Sherman and his army. It was on a bitter cold night, December 23, 1864, when we crossed the river. The scene of our army at midnight crossing the river on the pontoon bridge lighted by bonfires and the excitement over the evacuation are all vividly impressed on my memory. The next morning when the sun was barely above the horizon I looked across the wide rice fields of Carolina, and saw the United States flag floating above the City Hall of Savannah. The Federal army was delighted at the capture of Savannah, especially of twenty-five thousand bales of cotton, which were stored there. Though this was private property, it was ordered shipped and sold for government account.
Our army when we left Savannah was under the command of General Hardee. It contained only about eight thousand men, mostly reserves, old men and boys. We never attempted seriously to oppose General Sherman in his march through South Carolina. The march of that army was a trail of fire and desolation. Their acts of vandalism accomplished nothing except to embitter Southern people. Pillars of smoke arising from barns and peaceful dwellings gave us notice that Sherman's army had commenced its forward march. Our little regiment was the rear-guard in nearly all of our march through the State. I shall not give in detail the various scenes and incidents connected with our marches and countermarches in front of the great Federal army, nor shall I describe the scenes of confusion among the people. We had less than ten thousand men of all arms, of these about five thousand were infantry. The enemy pursuing us had more cavalry than our entire force. We, who brought up the rear, would form in a good position and dare this cavalry to attack us. They invariably refused to do so. We were then forced to withdraw before their great force of infantry could arrive to overwhelm us. Because of exhaustion and sickness we lost probably about one-fourth of our army before we reached Augusta. We passed below Columbia, but the main body of the Federals took a direct line to South Carolina's capital with the avowed purpose of its destruction.
I will now pass over the incidents of our Carolina campaign, until we reached Cheraw on the Santee River. The enemy evidently expected that we would give them battle here, because at this point we had large commissary stores. But General Hardee had no idea of attempting battle, except skirmishes. So we used every exertion to get our army with all the supplies possible across the Santee River and then burn the bridge.
Our little regiment, comprising less than two hundred men, was given the dangerous duty of guarding the river until our cavalry could retire behind us and then we were to cross the bridge ourselves. Very soon we saw a dark line of horsemen among the trees. At first, we supposed that they were the enemy, but they proved to be our cavalry, about five hundred men. They came thundering down the road, crossed the bridge, and were soon in our rear. Then in the woods we saw a long line of infantry with their skirmishers in front advancing slowly to attack our skirmish line. The immediate command of our skirmishers was given to my brother, Captain Tomlinson Fort, a calm, fearless officer. I, as adjutant, was instructed by Colonel Wayne to ride along the line and to tell the men to fall back slowly before the overpowering forces of the enemy. In returning to my post beside the colonel, as was my duty, I had the narrowest escape from death or capture that occurred to me during the entire war. I was aware of the great danger I was incurring as I swiftly galloped back in front of our skirmish line along the public road to rejoin Colonel Wayne. As I emerged from the pines along the road, riding very swiftly, suddenly I came upon two or three of the enemy's skirmishers who had been firing at Colonel Wayne. I came into the main road a few steps ahead of these men. I pulled up my horse and suddenly turned to the left and at the same instant the men threw up their guns and fired. By reason of my sudden turn I feel satisfied that the balls all went in front of me. As I rode down the open road a dozen or more skirmishers had some nice target practice at me, but they did very poor shooting. A cup was cut from my haversack, I think my hair was touched, and my horse was skipped by a ball. We arrived at the bridge—with a large body of enemy skirmishers about fifty yards behind us.
The bridge, a wooden-covered structure, had been saturated with turpentine and rosin by a squad of our men who had instruction to burn it as soon as we had crossed—I was among the last to cross. The bridge was then smoking and burning, I remember being partly stifled with smoke as I entered, with difficulty forcing my horse through. The bridge burned like tinder and a few minutes after we were across the flames were fifty feet high.