Under the Stars and Bars / Or, Memories of Four Years Service with the Oglethorpes, of Augusta, Georgia

by Walter A. Clark

PEDICULUS CORPORIS.

On the evening of June 26, Will Daniel said to me, "Furnish 47 men for picket duty tonight. Lieutenants Blanchard and McLaughlin will go with them. As this is a detail, you will remain with the remnant of the company in the trenches." As Gen. Sherman had not favored us with his confidence, neither of us knew how much, exemption from that service meant for both of us on the morrow. In detailing non-commissioned officers for this detachment, Corp. L. A. R. Reab asked to be excused upon the ground that he had received that day an outfit of outer and under clothing—that by changing the old garments for the new after a thorough ablution he had succeeded in ridding himself of a camp affliction technically known as "pediculus corporis," but usually characterized by a less euphonious title—that picket service in the pits would certainly bring on a renewal of the attack, from which he desired most earnestly to have at least a few days immunity. While he had my sympathy, I was unable to consider his excuse a valid one, and referred him to his commanding officer, who also declined to relieve him. It was possibly fortunate that he failed as he was captured next day and was kept a prisoner until the close of the war, securing in this way exemption from further risk in battle and perhaps a longer lease of life.

In this connection it may not be amiss to say that the Oglethorpes were, perhaps, as cleanly as any company in the service and yet during the last year of the war I do not think a single member was free of this affliction for a single day. It was simply a physical impossibility to get rid of it. Discussing this matter with my friend, W. J. Steed some time since, I made the statement that during our trip to Nashville in the winter of '64, when we had no opportunity to change our underclothing for a month or more, it was our custom before retiring at night, to take our flannel or hickory shirts, close the neck and wrist, suspend them over a blazing fire and hold them there until the air was filled with the odor of frying meat. Steed's reply was, "I think a good deal of you, old fellow, but I advise you never to make that statement to any one who has not unlimited confidence in your veracity." And yet I make it here with as full conviction of its absolute truthfulness as any statement I have ever made in any presence.

And now, bidding the "pediculus corporis" adieu with a great deal of pleasure, I ask the reader's attention to another theme.

BATTLE OF KENNESAW

The 47 men detailed for picket on the evening of the 26th, went to their posts with seven other companies from the regiment, with no premonition of what was in store for them on the coming day. There was the usual desultory firing during the night, but the sunrise salute on the 27th was not confined to a single gun. Every battery fronting Hardee's corps and French's division, joined in the chorus. The cannonade was heavy and continuous until 8 a. m., when the Federal bugles sounded the advance. As the assaulting column approached our skirmish line, the pickets covering the divisions of Cheatham, Cleburne and French retired to the trenches, where the enemy met with a bloody and disastrous repulse. In Walker's front their approach was hidden from view by a dense forest growth, except on the extreme right adjoining French, where the pits running across an open field, were held by Co. C, of our regiment. This company had retired with French's pickets, leaving a vacancy in the line. The Oglethorpes were in reserve, and Maj. Allen, misled by Capt. Buckner as to the situation and ignorant of the fact that the attacking column had already reached our skirmish line, ordered the company into fill the gap. Gallantly led by Lieutenants Blanchard and McLaughlin, they advanced at a double quick step and on reaching the open field were met by a murderous fire both from the front and flank, for French's deserted pits were already occupied by the enemy. The woods to the left and front were swarming with blue coats. On a portion of the line held by Co. K, they had reached the pit and a hand to hand conflict ensued. Men fought with clubbed muskets. A short-legged Irishman of that company, with the unusual name of John Smith, had his gun seized by a stalwart Yankee and there was a struggle for its possession. The little son of Erin was game, but he was overmatched in strength and shoving his opponent backward as the gun was wrenched from his hands, he said, "To —— with you and the gun too." Lieut. George A. Bailie, of Co. B, had his ear grazed by a minie and his antagonist, twenty feet away, reloaded to fire again; having no weapon but his sword, Lieut. B. decided to emulate David in his contest with Goliath, and picking up a stone he threw it, striking his foe squarely between the eyes and placing him hors de combat for a time at least. Further up the line and near the vacant pits, another member of the regiment, whose name is not recalled, stood loading and firing as rapidly as his teeth could tear the cartridges and his hands could ram them home. His face was cold and pallid and bloodless, but not from fear. Blackened with powder stain, through which the perspiration trickled in streams, his eyes flashed defiance with every flash from his gun, while disdaining the protection of the pits he stood there a perfect demon of war, with no thought save to kill.

And what of the Oglethorpes? They had picked up something too hot to hold. Attacked both in front and flank by largely superior numbers they were in a veritable hornet's nest. They fought bravely to hold their position, but the odds were too great and George McLaughlin, seeing that it was wholesale death or capture, sang out, "Save yourselves, boys." The place was too hot to hold and almost to let go. For two or three hundred yards to the rear was an open field sloping upwards. To retire through this bullet swept as it was at short range, was simply to court death. Obliquely to the rear was a piece of woodland from which some protection could be gained. Most of the men made a break for this. Some of them ran squarely into the arms of the enemy who had possession of the woods, and were captured. Some failed to leave the pits in time and were taken prisoners there. Some ran the gauntlet safely, while some brought to the rear in frame or limb a perpetual souvenir of that warm day. With the first volley as they entered the open field, Lieut. Blanchard was wounded and W. J. Steed fell by his side with a ball through his lungs. A moment later A. M. Hilzheim, who had joined us only a day before, had received a fatal wound, and Wyatt Chamblin had fallen with a shattered leg. When the order to retire was given, W. J. Steed, John Weigle and Charlie Bayliss attempted to make their way to the rear through the open field. Steed had gone but a little way when a ball crashed through his hand. As he slung it in pain, another shattered his elbow and he fell. As he lay there suffering agony from three wounds a fourth ball broke the same arm near the shoulder. A little way off Charlie Bayliss lay dead and John Weigle had fallen with a broken thigh. The Federal line was re-formed in rear of the pits and Steed and Weigle were ordered to come in and surrender. They replied that they were unable to go in, but that if litter bearers were sent out they could be carried in. Just then a shell from one of French's batteries burst over the Federal line and they took to the woods without the ceremony of a formal dismissal. Steed and Weigle took advantage of a temporary lull in the firing and renewed their efforts to escape. Steed was so weakened by loss of blood from his four wounds that he could only rise, stagger a little way and fall, then rest for a time and renew the effort, while Weigle was forced to crawl and drag his wounded limb. In the effort he was shot in the other leg, but was finally reached by the litter bearers and taken to the rear, one of them being fatally wounded as they bore him off. After repeated efforts, occupying an hour or more, Steed reached the haven and swooned away. In this condition he was found and rescued. He still lives, but an armless sleeve furnishes constant reminder of the terrible experience of that June day. Weigle, poor fellow, a model soldier and a brave, true man, died from his wounds.

And now, though it is due to the truth of history, I regret to record the fact, that while these comrades of mine, who had been shot down on the soil of their own State for defending their homes and firesides, were making in bitter agony their heroic struggle for life, Federal soldiers, schooled in Sherman's creed that "War is hell" and that "the humanities of life have no place" amid its horrors, concealed behind trees and under the shelter of rifle pits, were trying to murder these men as they lay maimed and mangled and bleeding and helpless upon the ground. It is not a pleasant picture, and I am glad to be able to shift the reader's attention to another that blooms out in striking and refreshing contrast to this product of Northern civilization. At the same hour and less than a mile away, the attack of Palmer's corps on Cleburne's and Cheatham's divisions met with a bloody repulse and as the Union line retired, exploding shells or paper wrapping from the rifle cartridges, fired the woods where the Federal dead and wounded lay. "Cease firing," rang out from brave Pat Cleburne's lips, and the rugged heroes of Granbury, Govan and Lowry, dropped their arms and leaping the breastworks they hurried out under the summer sun and the fiercer heat of the blazing woods to rescue and save their fallen and helpless foes. Comment is unnecessary and if it were, as a reconstructed citizen of a reconstructed union, I have no heart to make it.

In addition to the casualties already named Ab. Mitchell of the Oglethorpes, lost an arm, and W. W. Bussey, W. B. Morris, Bob Prather, Billy Pardue, Ben Rowland and Randall Reeves were otherwise wounded. L. A. R. Reab, Joe Derry, Willie Eve, Geo. Harrison, Bud Howard, W. Chamblin, Jabe Marshall, Polk Thomas, John Coffin and Lott were captured. George Pournelle's fate was never positively known. Those who escaped thought he was captured and those who were captured thought he escaped. He was the last to leave his pit, was probably killed there and falling in it was thus concealed from the view of other members of the company. He was my friend and messmate, brave and kind and true. Three years' comradeship had drawn us very close together and the mystery of his death has always saddened me.

The pickets were rallied by Major Allen on a line nearer our trenches, but the Federals made no further effort to advance. The brave stand made by our regiment on the skirmish line checked the assaulting column and by 11:30 the battle had ended. Sherman had lost 3,000 and Johnston only 630, one-eighth of it falling on the 63rd Ga. Gen. W. H. T. Walker complimented the regiment on its gallantry, but suggested that it be tempered with a little more discretion.