We went into winter quarters at Dalton, our regiment being in front of the general army. We camped near Tunnel Hill. We had good foraging ground and could get chickens, eggs, butter, so we lived high. John Loftin was captain of the foragers and he was a good one too. He only got caught once but he lied out of that. Two negroes, who belonged to two doctors of our Brigade, went to Dalton one night to see the sights and buy half-moon pies, big sorghum ginger-bread, and other things. Coming home at midnight they were crossing a railroad trestle when two robbers called on them to halt. Sam began to parley with them when whack! they hit him over the head, and told him to give up his money. He yielded up his shin-plasters, all he had. They then took Tom’s can. He did not have much so they told him to pull. He was a good runner especially when scared, and he lit out over rocks and brush, beating his partner to camp. With eyes as big as saucers he related his exploits to his master. They did not visit Dalton at night again. We used to go over there to see the girls and have parties and sorghum “candy pulls.” It was a great diversion, and between the lines, when the guards were on to it they would arrest, but the boys could usually outgeneral them.
From this camp I was sent on a three days’ furlough to Augusta to buy some drug supplies not to be found in Atlanta. When I reached Atlanta whom should I meet but George Roberts, one of my old mess-mates who had been transferred to Morgan’s Cavalry. Morgan had been captured, and all that was left of the command was at Macon re-organizing. George was buying horses. He was flush and wanted me to take a thousand dollars, but I had lots of money, at least for these days. He went to the depot to see me off. Robert was a fine fellow. He was a regular city rat. We country boys used to get him to pilot us around the city. He would know all the streets in a day and could take us anywhere we wanted to go. After the war he settled in Texas, where he was cashier of a bank. He died several years ago.
In Augusta I met Colonel Snyder of the Eighth Arkansas. He was from Pocahontas, Ark., and was then on a furlough. I also met Ed M. Dickinson, Thad Kinman and Ben Adler. They belonged to the quartermaster’s department under Captain Bridewell and Major Moon. They kept books as big as a dining table. As they belonged to this particular department they helped me to draw a new jacket suit. They lived in a fine city and fared sumptuously, so knowing all the ropes they made it mighty pleasant for me. Through Ed I met an uncle whom I had not seen before. It was on a crowded street in the city, but I knew him at once from his resemblance to my father. When I accosted him he was very dignified and seemed to doubt me until I told him the names of the whole family. Then he insisted upon me going to his home. He had an interesting family. My grandmother died at his home and was buried in a cemetery in Augusta. I got back to camp on time. After living off the fat of the land our regular diet of blue beef and corn bread somehow failed to tickle the palate. George Thomas, who had been wounded at Murfreesboro, got back to us at this camp.
We were waiting to move on the checkerboard. Jeff Davis, General Bragg, Johnston and all were calling for the troops to have a decisive battle hereabouts, but there was a difference of opinion between Davis and the commanding generals. Our Brigade was ordered, I suppose to Mississippi. We went by rail to Montgomery, were halted there, and were sent back to Dalton and went into camp again.
May 8th, 1864 we began the famous Dalton campaign, under the leadership of the superb General Joseph E. Johnston. He had between forty and fifty thousand men divided into three corps, commanded respectively by Generals Hardee, Hood and Polk. He was opposed by Sherman with about 100,000 well drilled seasoned soldiers [ … ] by Generals Thomas, McPherson and Schofield, but Johnston was equal to the campaign.
May 8th we were menaced by the enemy in front and flank. May 9th we moved our position two miles to the left and on May 10th we moved rapidly back to the top of the mountain. We had no tents nor protection of any kind. We slept on the ground among the rocks. Although it rained in torrents, we were so dead tired from our 33 mile march, we did not know it was raining until we were wet through. At daybreak we were again on the march and went to Snake Creek Gap, then three miles to the left and built breastworks. From there we marched to Resaca. May 15th we had heavy fighting and were forced from our position. The retreat was covered by Hardee’s corps. Our engineers had to build, under fire, a bridge for the army to cross the Costenaula. In fact from Dalton to Atlanta we had a continuous battle. We moved back slowly, and only when flanked and outnumbered. When we adopted a new line a few miles back, we built breastworks. Thus marching, battling, building works, in rain and mud, with no camp, no tents and but little food, the campaign went on. But in all our skirmishes and engagements we used every advantage to their great loss. We fell back to Calhoun, then to Adairsville. We were the rear guard on that road. After we had crossed a creek and marched to the top of the hill, (our Cavalry to the rear), the Yankees moved opposite and opened up a battery. We were ordered to lie down and not to fire until told to do so. General Polk and General Jackson rode in front of us and the sharp-shooters and artillery of the enemy made it hot for them, bullets going through their hats and clothes. General Jackson would dodge, but General Polk would sit as straight as an arrow and never move a muscle. I heard him when he told General Cleburne and asked permission to advance on the enemy. When the courier returned General Cleburne himself came to see the fun. From our hill could be seen fifty thousand Yankee troops—Infantry, Cavalry and Artillery. For our Brigade to advance against such a force was a visionary idea, and the permission was not given.
We moved on to join our main army which was a few miles in front drawn up in line of battle near Cassville. Our line was in open field, five miles long. Each man had forty cartridges and knew how to use them. General Johnston rode along the line and told the men he was going to give battle. The soldiers threw their caps into the air and shouted themselves hoarse with joy at the thought of going into a fight which they felt in their souls would be successful. It was inspiring to see such enthusiasm in battle scarred veterans who knew what fighting meant. It was not theory with them, it was knowledge gained in bloody experience. I was glad I was on that field and saw that flashing of Southern bravery. Such patriots are born only of liberty-loving people, born of God. That confidence of success, that confidence in their leader was what Joseph E. Johnston had looked for, had prayed for. He knew his position to be the best he had ever had. He now knew the temper of his men. Nothing could have checked them. It would be the biggest battle of the war and his success.
When this great battle was formed in Johnston’s brain and the Generals ordered to occupy the ground assigned them, who was the first to say he could not hold his position? Who, but General Hood! Histories love to state that these generals led their men, but here was a time when the general did not lead into battle the bravest men in the world who were clamoring for the fight.