We went by rail to Montgomery, where we arrived August 7th. We went into camp near the river and had a chance to swim without fear of alligators.
Montgomery, as the first capital of the Confederacy, was a noted place and many celebrated people lived there. Dr. Arnold and I had bought ourselves “boiled” white shirts, thinking we might be invited into society, but we seemed to have been forgotten by the “haut ton.” But it was a beautiful city and we inspected it thoroughly. We were too many for the police, so they “gave us rope to hang ourselves.”
We went on next day to Atlanta. When we got there we hoped to eat a big Georgia watermelon, but to our consternation, found the provost guard destroying every watermelon in the city. They were fresh, red and juicy and made our mouths water, but discipline had improved and we touched not, tasted not, handled not the unclean watermelons. The doctor said they would make us sick. Citizens and negroes might eat them. For soldiers they were sure poison.
We passed up the Sequatchie Valley with its fine springs, stone milk houses, and rich bottom land. We camped on Cumberland Mountain and we camped on Caney Fork. We marched thirty-five miles to Sparta, Tennessee, and camped, and there we were ordered to wash our clothes and to cook three days’ rations. All this marching was on the famous Bragg Kentucky Campaign and the old general trained us to walk until horses could not beat us. We marched eleven, twelve, thirteen____ ____fifty miles. We waded the Cumberland river, and it was very swift and deep. My messmate, Bob Bond, found a sweetheart here, but he could not tarry and they parted in tears. We camped at Red Sulphur Springs, marched thirty-eight miles and camped on the Tennessee and Kentucky line. We passed through Glasgow, marching all night. These forced marches were hard on us, seasoned infantry as we were. Dr. Arnold, my file leader said:
“Bill, I can’t go any further, don’t you see I go to sleep walking? I can’t stand it any longer.”
“You’re no good,” I replied, “you can stand it as well as I can, besides if you leave the road you will be captured and will have to eat rats.”
“Goodbye, old friend, I am gone,” was his answer. He ran into the wood twenty or thirty feet from the road, dropped down and was asleep by the time he hit the ground.
He said when he awoke he heard sabres clashing and cavalry passing. He thought he “was a goner”, but he soon heard the familiar voice of General Hardee. He was calling to get up and go on. He said even a soldier’s endurance had a limit, and that limit was now reached. We would not go much further without a rest. Then he ordered his body guard to charge the sleeping men. Dr. Arnold had to run for his command or be court martialed. Panting for breath, he joined us after we had gone into camp, and exclaimed, “Bill, I wish I had come on, for I am nearly dead, and old General Hardee is after me hot and heavy.”
On September 17th we left Case City at daybreak, and marched fifteen miles to Mumfordsville, which we surrounded, placing a battery on every hill and knoll that commanded the town. We had eighty cannon ready to open fire, and then demanded the surrender of the garrison, and on September 18th six thousand men marched out, laying down six thousand guns. While Will Reid of our company was loading guns into a wagon, one went off accidentally and shot off his arm. General Hardee was riding over the battlefield, and seeing Reid with his arm dangling at his side asked his staff surgeon, Dave Yandell, “Who is that man’s surgeon?” Yandell pointed out Dr. Young. Dr. Young had gone out in our company a graduate surgeon. He was young and up to that time he had made no operation of note. He begged the staff-surgeon to help him, but Yandell refused, saying he had no time. He stayed, however, to look on, and embarrassed the young surgeon still more. When Dr. Young took the knife his hand shook like a leaf, but he performed the operation successfully and according to all the laws of surgery. After the war he returned to his home at Corinth, Mississippi, where he stood high in his profession. He died in 1892.
At Mumfordsville while in line of battle, marching slowly and stopping often, we passed through an orchard. Nice juicy apples were lying all over the ground and one of the boys of a Louisiana Regiment, stooped down and picked up two or three. His colonel happened to be looking in his direction, and he had that boy gagged and buckled every time the line stopped. After that every soldier thought hell was too good for that colonel.