“‘O Lord! bress de Union army; be thou their bulwarks and ditches. O Lord! as thou didst hear our prayer when we’s down in de Souf country, as we held de plow and de hoe in the hot sun, so hear our prayer at dis time for de Union army. Guard’em on de right, and on de lef,’ and in de rear: don’t lef’ ‘em ‘lone, though they’s mighty wicked.’ Another (a young man) thus energetically desired the overthrow of Satan’s empire: ‘O Lord! if you please, sir, won’t you come forth out of de heaven, and take ride ‘round about hell, and give it a mighty shake till de walls fall down.’
“A venerable exhorter got the story of the Prodigal Son slightly mixed, but not so as to damage the effect at all. He said, ‘He rose up and went to his fader’s house. And I propose he was ragged. And I propose de road dirty. But when his fader saw him coming over de hill, ragged and dirty, he didn’t say, “Dat ain’t my son.” He go and meet him. He throw his arms round his neck and kiss; and, while he was hugging and kissing him, he thought of dat robe in de wardroom, and he said, “Bring dat robe, and put it on him.” And when dey was a putting on de robe, he thought of de ring, dat splendid ring! and he said, “My son, dat was dead and is alive again, he like dat ring, cos it shine so.” And he made dem bring de ring and put it on his hand; and he put shoes on his feet, and killed de fatted calf. And here, my friends, see defection of de prodigal for his son. But, my bredren, you are a great deal better off dan de prodigal’s son. For he hadn’t no gemmen of a different color to come and tell him dat his fader was glad to hab him come home again. But dese handmaid bredren has kindly come dis evening to tell us dat our heabenly Father wants us to come back now. He’s ready to gib us de robe and de ring. De bressed Lord Jesus stands leaning over de bannisters of heaven, and reaching down his arms to take us up. O my friends! I ask you dis night to repent. If you lose your soul, you’ll never get anoder. I tell you all, if you don’t repent you’re goin’ straight to hell; and in de last day, when de Lord say to you, “Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlastin’ fire,” if you’re ‘onorable, you’ll own up, and say it’s right. O my friends.! I tell you de truth: it’s de best way to come to de Lord Jesus dis night.’”.
Regiment after regiment of blacks were mustered into the United-States service, in all the rebel States, and were put on duty at once, and were sooner or later called to take part in battle.
CHAPTER XVIII.—BATTLE OF MILLINERS BEND.
Contraband Regiments; their Bravery; the Surprise.—Hand to hand Fight.—“No Quarters.”—Negroes rather die than surrender.—The Gunboat and her dreadful Havoc with the Enemy.
On the 7th of June, 1863, the first regular battle was fought between the blacks and whites in the valley of the Mississippi. The planters had boasted, that, should they meet their former slaves, a single look from them would cause the negroes to throw down their weapons, and run. Many Northern men, especially copperheads, professed to believe that such would be the case. Therefore, all eyes were turned to the far off South, the cotton, sugar, and rice-growing States, to see how the blacks would behave on the field of battle; for it is well known that the most ignorant of the slave population belonged in that section.
The following account of the fight is from an eye witness:—
“My informant states that a force of about five hundred negroes, and two hundred men of the Twenty-third Iowa, belonging to the second brigade, Carr’s division (the Twenty-third Iowa had been up the river with prisoners, and was on its way back to this place), was surprised in camp by a rebel force of about two thousand men. The first intimation that the commanding officer received was from one of the black men, who went into the colonel’s tent, and said, ‘Massa, the secesh are in camp.” The colonel ordered him to have the men load their guns at once. He instantly replied, “We have done did dat now, massa.” Before the colonel was ready, the men were in line, ready for action. As before stated, the rebels drove our force towards the gunboats, taking colored men prisoners and murdering them. This so enraged them that they rallied, and charged the enemy more heroically and desperately than has been recorded during the war. It was a genuine bayonet-charge, a hand-to-hand fight, that has never occurred to any extent during this prolonged conflict. Upon both sides men were killed with the butts of muskets. White and black men were lying side by side, pierced by bayonets, and in some instances transfixed to the earth. In one instance, two men—one white and the other black—were found dead, side by side, each having the other’s bayonet through his body. If facts prove to be what they are now represented, this engagement of Sunday morning will be recorded as the most desperate of this war. Broken limbs, broken heads, the mangling of bodies, all prove that it was a contest between enraged men: on the one side, from hatred to a race; and, on the other, desire for self-preservation, revenge for past grievances, and the inhuman murder of their comrades. One brave man took his former master prisoner, and brought him into camp with great gusto. A rebel prisoner made a particular request, that his own negroes should not be placed over him as a guard.