On the morning of May 26th I had made all the arrangements possible for the welfare of my patients, and passing through I looked each in the face, as a kindly farewell on my part, to which they might return their adieu some days after, when they "found me missing." I charged young Dr. Reese to take good care of the men till I returned, as I thought of taking my horses up the Alabama river to place them on a farm for pasture. Taking a last look at the beautiful town of Selma, with a suppressed sigh that I should no more enjoy the society of its fair ladies, I embarked on the Great Republic for Montgomery, the capital of the State, and for a time the capital of the Confederacy. I reached this point in the evening, having made sixty-five miles toward the north star. I remained at Montgomery over night, and managed to obtain a military pass and transportation from this point to Chattanooga, which was now in possession of a large force of Confederate cavalry, organizing themselves into guerrilla bands, while the Federal forces held the north side of the Tennessee. While here it seemed necessary to exchange my Confederate money into gold, as the only sure means of paying my way when I should reach the Federal lines. But this was not easily effected. The Confederates sent their gold to Europe by millions to buy arms and munitions of war, relying upon the patriotism of the people to keep up the credit of the national currency; and lest brokers should undertake to depreciate it, they passed a law imposing a heavy penalty upon any one who should discount Confederate notes. For a time this succeeded in keeping up the credit of the circulating medium; but all gold disappeared, and silver change was unknown. But as I must have gold, I walked into a broker's office and stated that I wished to purchase seven ounces of gold, and exhibited a roll of Confederate notes. After a little figuring, he said seven ounces would cost me two hundred and seventy dollars of my money. I replied, "Weigh it out."
"Bullion or coin?"
I answered that coin was more convenient to carry. The coin was weighed, and I retired, wondering if anybody had broken the law forbidding the discount of Confederate scrip.
After leaving Montgomery by the railroad train for Chattanooga on the morning of the 27th, I fell in with a soldier whose name I must for the sake of his family, who showed me great kindness, conceal. He said he was going home on furlough. As I then suspected and afterward learned, he was deserting, while I was escaping. A fellow-feeling, though at first unconfessed to each other, drew us together, and at length I learned his whole history. My greater caution and accustomed reticence, gave him but a meager idea of my adventures or purposes. His story, reaffirmed to me when near death some weeks later, is worth recital, especially as it illustrates both the strength of the Rebel Government, and the desperate lengths to which they go in pressing men into the service.
The conscription act passed by the Confederate Congress went into operation on May 16th, 1862. By this law all able-bodied white male citizens, between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five, were actually taken into the service; that is, they were taken from their homes, placed in camps of instruction, and forwarded to the armies in the field as fast as needed. Another clause of the act required the enrolling of all between the ages of thirty-five and fifty-five years, as a reserve militia, to serve in their own State in case of invasion. As their States have all been "invaded," this virtually sweeps into the Southern army all white men able to bear arms between eighteen and fifty-five years of age. Another clause provided that all persons then in the army, under eighteen and over thirty-five, might return home discharged from the service within ninety days after the act took effect, provided, their regiments were filled up with conscripts. By this provision the regiments would be kept full. Still another clause directed that the twelve-months men now in the service, should "be allowed" (i.e., required), "at the expiration of their twelve months to elect new officers, and take the oath for two years or the war." Under this last clause, the reorganization of the twelve-months volunteers was going forward at Corinth, when the Fifth Tennessee regiment of volunteers, composed of Warren county boys, Colonel J.B. Hill commanding, determined they would not be forced to continue their service, and especially out of their own State. Before this determination had entirely taken form the officers were apprised of the disaffection, and resolved, with true military decision, to forestall the threatened mutiny. The regiment was marched out some distance from camp and drilled for an hour or two, and then allowed to stack arms and return to camp for dinner. While in camp their arms were removed, and 30,000 men drawn up: 15,000 on each side of a hollow square, with a battery of ten field-pieces loaded with grape, gunners at their post, occupying a third side, while the fourth was open. Into this space the regiment was marched, without arms, and requested, all of them who were free to do so, to take the oath. After its administration to the regiment in a body, the colonel said if there were any members who had not voluntarily sworn, they could step out in front of the ranks. Six men advanced, two of them brothers, and remonstrated that they had cheerfully volunteered for one year, had served faithfully, and endured every hardship without complaint and without furlough; had left their families without means of support, who must now be suffering; that if allowed to go home and rest and make some provision for wife and children, they would then return. Colonel Hill, who was from the neighborhood of these men, knew the truth and felt the force of their arguments, and was trying by kindness to satisfy their minds, when General Beauregard rode up and asked—
"Colonel Hill, do these men refuse to swear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Unless they comply, have them shot to-morrow morning at ten o'clock," said the general, and rode away.
Before ten o'clock they had all taken the oath; but one of the two brothers, in his rage, declared he would desert. For this he would have been shot, had he not acknowledged himself wrong and professed penitence, though his resolution remained unshaken.
Some days after, this brother was placed upon picket duty, and, as the night came on, he attempted to pass out through the lines of cavalry pickets, when he was shot in the side, but not dangerously wounded as he then thought. He crawled back into his own line, and then reported himself as shot by a Federal picket. He was taken to camp, the ball extracted, and he sent to Atlanta, Georgia, to hospital. From this place he escaped and reached Montgomery on his way back to Warren county, Tennessee. His wound healed externally.