Crown her, love, honor, cherish her,
And hail her queen of womankind.
Ye of all nations, every tribe,
Of every age and every time,
Crown her, love, honor, cherish her,
And hail her queen of womankind.
We remained here perhaps half an hour, when the guards let us ride their horses, walking at the horses' heads, holding the bridles by the bits. This was very kind and duly appreciated. After going a mile or so, the Dutch corporal, with the perspiration streaming from his face (it was a very hot, sultry morning), stopped and said, "I ish proke down and can't valk no farder." I told him all right, we could make it then, and thanking him for his kindness, we marched on, the guard telling us to take our time.
By this time we were feeling much better and stronger, and that night, May 26th, after dark, came up with the other prisoners at Port Royal. I am able to fix this date from an old letter I found some time ago, written to my wife from that place, in which I gave the names of all the men of Company C who were captured with me, and requested her to have the names published in the Lynchburg papers, that their friends might know their fate.
ON TO WASHINGTON
The next day the prisoners were put aboard an old freight ship, which steamed down the Rappahannock River, out into the bay, and up the Potomac River to Washington City. Here the officers and men were separated. My brother Bob was very anxious to go with me, but, of course, this was not permissible; and there on the wharf, on the 28th of May, 1864, I parted with him and the other members of Company C, not to meet any of them again until that "cruel war was over," and many of them never again. Some of the company not captured were killed during the last year of the war, and many have died since the war. Some still live. Every now and then I read in the papers of the death of some of them, which always recalls memories of long ago. It will not be many years before the last one of us shall have answered the final roll call. May we all meet again in a better world, where there is no war, is my fervent prayer. War is horrible. General Sherman said, "War is hell." Few, if any, did more than William Tecumseh Sherman to make war hell, and if I had to guess, I should say that ere now Sherman knows all about the horrors of both—war and hell. There may be something in a name after all. "Tecumseh!" The savage.