CHAPTER XII.
The army was without tents, yet very comfortable. They were encamped along the steep hillside, mostly sheltered from the enemy’s shot. A place was dug against the hill, and in many cases, into it, forming a sort of cave. Poles were put up and covered with oil cloths, blankets or cane rods, of which an abundant supply was near at hand. For fuel, the farm fences were laid under contribution, in some cases being hauled for two or three miles. The work of slaughter and destruction went on day and night. The roar of cannon, the rattle of musketry, the sharp crack of the rifle in the hands of the sharpshooters, reached the ear from all sides. There was no cessation, no Let up.
“Cannon to right of them;
Cannon to left of them;
Cannon in front of them;
Volleyed and thundered.”
Stormed at with shot and shell, the beleaugered garrison and the inhabitants of Vicksburg must have felt, as surely as day follows night, that the end could not be much longer delayed. Mines and countermines were dug and sprung. Not a man in the trenches on either side could show his head above the breastworks without being picked off by the sharpshooters. A hat held out for two minutes at a port hole was riddled with minie-balls. Shells searched out all parts of the city, with direful results. Several women and children were killed and wounded during the siege. There were about 1,300 women and children in the city during the bombardment, who, during the greater part of the time, had been obliged to live in caves, cut in the hard clay hills in the city, of which there were several hundred. At this day it may seem to some of my readers that it was cruel and inhuman for the Union forces to fire on defenseless women and children, but what could we do; they were in the city and preferred to remain there to cheer on their husbands and brothers in their work of trying to destroy the Union. To show my readers with what feeling these Southern women showed their hatred of the North and the boys in blue, let me give a simple extract from a letter written by a Southern wife to her husband in the Confederate army, which letter was captured near Vicksburg. Speaking of the Yankees she says: “If there is an hereafter, a heaven or hell, I pray to go to perdition ere my soul would be joined to rest in heaven with the fiendish foe. It would be some solace to us, when we love our husbands, fathers, sons and friends, to know they were fighting an enemy, civilized or refined in a great degree. But, oh! the thought is killing; is too painful, to see our men, the choicest, most refined specimens of God’s work, destroyed and even forced to take up arms against the offscourings, outcast dregs of creation, for every man they lose is a blessing, a Godsend to humanity and society.” These are strong words, and a woman that could harbor such feelings would have the courage to stay in the doomed city and take her chances with her husband and friends.
To offset this, let me tell you of a romance of the war, which has never been published, and was given me by Comrade Searles, late of Chicago. Gen. Elias E. Dennis, in command of a brigade of our troops during the siege, made his headquarters at a farm house (the home of a widow and family), occupying one portion of it. The General was very kind to the widow and orphans, often providing for them from his own means. One of these children, a bright, winsome little girl of some eight years, took a deep interest in all that transpired, remembering many events of those stirring times, but above all, retaining a most kindly recollection of the General who occupied the house. About twelve years ago a reunion of some old veterans was held at Vicksburg. Comrade Searles, of Chicago, was there, and among the Southern ladies who welcomed them was this little girl, now, of course, grown to womanhood. Accepting her kind invitation to visit her home, the next day found our comrade in the same house where Gen. Dennis had made his headquarters during the siege. Naturally, the conversation turned to the days of 1863. The lady, recalling the many kindnesses of Gen. Dennis, inquired if he were alive, to which Comrade Searles replied: “Why, bless you, I know him personally; he lives at Omaha.” She then asked her comrade if he would be the bearer of a letter to the General, and he replied, “Most gladly.” In due time this was delivered. What its contents were, none save the writer and the General ever knew, but as he read the letter, his lips quivered and his eyes filled with tears. The General was alone in the world, his wife and only daughter having passed away. Soon after he journeyed south. We know not what the greeting was; no doubt the lady awakened in the mind of the old veteran memories of his own lost, loved child, for shortly after this, he adopted the lady as his daughter. He lived the remainder of his days in Vicksburg, and but recently passed over to the eternal camping ground. When the General’s will was proven, it was found that all his property had been left to his daughter of the Southland.
Another romance that commenced shortly after the surrender of the city is worth recording. A Miss Mary E. Hurlburt, of Danbury, Conn., a Northern girl, was visiting at the Lunn Mansion in the city of Vicksburg at the outbreak of the war, and tarrying too long, was compelled to remain there until the Union forces opened up the Mississippi River. When Gen. Grant captured the city, the officers of those commanding the troops in the city domiciled themselves at different houses. Gen. Leggett and his staff located their headquarters at the Lunn residence. Gen. John A. Rawlins, chief of Gen. Grant’s staff, had occasion to visit the headquarters of Gen. Leggett and naturally met Miss Hurlburt and their acquaintance soon ripened into a love affair, which in a few months culminated in a wedding and the young lady became the wife of Gen. John A. Rawlins, and shared with him in all the honors conferred upon the General as the closest advisor of Gen. Grant, and afterwards as Secretary of War.
The month of June, 1863, was rolling by and the glorious 4th of July drew near. The Union lines were getting closer and closer, and the question was passed around among the boys, “Shall we spend the Fourth in Vicksburg or in the trenches?” On June 28, the Confederates threw over to our men a small biscuit made of corn meal and peas. To this was attached a very small piece of meat and a note stating that it was one day’s rations. The note went on: “We are pretty hungry and dreadful dry. Old Pemberton has taken all the whisky for the hospitals and our Southern Confederacy is so small just now that we are not in the manufacturing business. Give our compliments to Gen. Grant and say to him that grub would be acceptable, but we will feel under particular obligations to him if he will send us a few bottles of good whisky.”