The women folks were even worse than the men; they poisoned the wells, and poisoned provisions and left them where our boys could easily find them, and at the same time rebel planters would call on our generals for protection. As sure as they found out that our army was coming that way, they would want a protection guard to keep the Yanks off their premises, and our officers would almost always grant their request.
One nice morning I had orders to report to headquarters. As I came up in front of headquarters tent, Col. Brackett came out with a letter in his hand and said:
"Sergeant, you are ordered to take two men and go ten miles up the White river to a planter's house and to guard the property while some of Gen. Curtis' men are passing. Allow no soldier on his premises."
I did not like that kind of a job, but orders had to be obeyed; so I went down to camp and found Jim and a comrade by the name of Thorne, and started for the old Reb's plantation. We got there all right, rode up to the front of the house and dismounted. There were two men sitting on the porch, one a gray-headed man and the other a young man. They proved to be father and son. As I went in the gate two young ladies came out on the porch, followed by a colored woman carrying chairs for them. When we first rode up, I noticed that when the young man saw we were Union soldiers he was very uneasy. I stepped upon the first step and raised my hat and asked who was the proprietor. The old gentleman said,
"I am." I handed him a letter and he opened it and examined it a long time, and finally called to one of the girls and said:
"Come here, Mary, and see if you can make this out."
"No, pa, I can't make it out at all."
Then the old man turned to me and said, "It may be, stranger, that you can read this," at the same time handing me the letter.
"Well, sir, this is what it says: 'Gen. Curtis sends his compliments to you and sends guards to protect your property while the Union army is passing.'"
"Oh, you are the guards?"