Left to Right: THAD KINMAN, ED DICKINSON, BEN ADLER.
These were my friends who gave me good clothes instead of common,
regulation clothes. They belonged to the Quartermaster’s Department.
General Cheatham was in a box car and I got on the same car. It was the first time I had seen him since the quarrel with Forrest. I told him I had a furlough and I wanted to get transportation. He seemed to doubt it and said, “Let me see your furlough.” He looked at the signature and he knew it was genuine.
Securing transportation I went back to Augusta. I went out to Belair, ten miles from the city, where my uncle had a summer residence. He was very kind to me. Next morning we went into the city and found a great commotion. General Beauregard was placing all stragglers in the guard house. My uncle said, “Son, you go back to Belair and I will see General Beauregard about it.” But I answered, “The general will have you in the guard house if you go to bothering him. I have an authority that ranks him or any general, as it is by order of the war department.”
When we went back to Belair that night my uncle presented me with a fine pair of boots which cost $100. Then my stylish outfit was complete. I told them good-bye, went to see Ed Dickinson, Ben Adler and Thad Kinman, and left for home.
I got to Forty Mile Gap. I had more baggage than when I went down. As I marched along one of the drivers of the four-mule wagons asked if I wanted to ride. A web-foot never refused. He said he would walk if I would ride and drive, but I told him I had never driven a four-mule team in my life.
“Oh, that’s all right,” said he, “the mules follow the wagon ahead without a driver.”
I rode his mule and drove his wagon, stylishly dressed, as I have said, in my long-tailed coat and fine new boots. The Virginia soldiers going on foot to their command, guyed me greatly. “When the war is over I bet that fellow will never tell that he drove a wagon train.” Then others would yell, “Don’t that guy look fine with his gay clothes on?” General Walthold came along and attracted by my dress, eyed me muchly. I did not know what was in my wagon, and to avoid inquiry, and trouble for the driver, I began to whip up the mules, looking the other way. But that didn’t work. The general called out authoritatively, “What have you, sir, in that wagon?”
“Quartermaster’s supplies,” I answered, hastening on. Soon I passed the danger line for myself and the driver and was safe from any general (except a Yankee General!)
I stayed with the driver until two o’clock in the morning, when I had to leave for Milledgeville, to be in time for the outgoing train. I got there ahead of time, and witnessed one of the sad trials of refugees. An old man and his daughter, a beautiful young girl, were apparently in great haste to get their baggage off on the train, and seemed relieved when they had stowed away the last package. They themselves were just getting on the train when two policemen arrested the old man and started back to town with him. There were eight or ten Arkansas and Texas soldiers on the train. They could not see a nice young girl driven off the cars, and her father treated like a criminal. When she began to cry the crisis had arrived. They jumped off with their guns and pistols and took the old man from the policemen, gave him a pistol, saying, “Kill them both, and we will bury them right here.” The old man refused to shoot, but the policemen did not tarry, nor did they come back.