THE SURRENDER OF VICKSBURG

Moving Southward—I Lose My Horse—Meet Old Huntsville Friends—A New Horse—In Mississippi—“Sneeze Weed”—Messenger’s Ferry—Surrender of Vicksburg—Army Retires—Fighting at Jackson—After Sherman’s Men—A Sick Horse—Black Prince—“Tax in Kind”—Ross’ Brigade—Two Desertions.

I now disbanded my important command on Rutherford Creek, and telling my men that every fellow must take care of himself, I joined the movement towards Mississippi. Leaving in the afternoon, we camped on the north bank of Duck River opposite Columbia. That night while walking into a deep gully I sprained an ankle very badly. Next morning my foot and ankle were so swollen I could not wear my boot, so I exchanged it for an old rusty brogan shoe found in an ambulance, and shipped all my luggage in the ambulance. I made my way to the pasture eight miles below, mounted my horse and joined the command.

Before reaching camp that night my horse was taken with a peculiar lameness in one of his hind legs. Next morning soon after starting he became lame again, and grew rapidly worse, so much so that I fell behind, being unable to keep up. Soon I had to dismount and lead him, driving him and urging him along in every possible way, spending the day in that manner, and walking most of the time. In the afternoon I saw that contingent called stragglers. One man rode up and said to me, “Hello, Barron! you are gone up for a horse. You’ll have to have another. Have you got any money?” “Not much,” I replied. Pulling out a one hundred dollar bill, he said: “Here, take this; it will do you some good.” During the afternoon another, and after a while still another passed me, saying and doing precisely the same thing. Crossing Elk River just before dark, I stopped to spend the night at the first house on the road. The next morning my horse was dead. I had expected to trade him, but now I was completely afoot, encumbered with my rigging, fifteen miles behind the command, which had gone on the Athens, Ala., road.

After visiting the lot I went back to breakfast, feeling that I was a good many miles from home, but not particularly daunted. I had all the time believed that a soldier who volunteered in the Confederate army in good faith and was honestly doing his duty would come out of all kinds of difficulties in good shape. After breakfast I watched the road until noon. At last a man of our brigade came along leading a horse, and I inquired to whom he belonged. “One of the boys that was sent to the hospital.” I then explained to him my situation. “All right,” said he, “you take this pony, find you a horse, and leave the pony with the wagon train when you come to it.” “The pony” was a shabby little long-haired mustang with one hip bone knocked down, but I was mounted for the time.

It was now Saturday afternoon. I was only thirty miles from Huntsville and might find a horse there, so it occurred to me, but I had no desire to go there at this time. In the condition circumstances had placed me, I only wished to procure a horse suitable for my necessities and follow my command. I mounted the mustang and took the Huntsville road, inquiring for horses along the way. I stayed all night at Madison Cross roads, and was not recognized by the man at whose house I spent the night, although I had been acquainted with him for several years. I went out next morning, Sunday as it was, and examined and priced one or two horses in the neighborhood, but found I could not pay for one even if I had fancied him, which I did not. So I continued my course towards Huntsville, jogging along very slowly on my borrowed horse, as the weather was quite warm. When within two or three miles of town I left the Pulaski road and turned in through some byways to the residence of Mr. Tate Lowry, a friend of mine who lived near the Meridianville pike, a mile or two out of town. I rode up to his place about noon, just as he had returned from church. He extended me a very cordial welcome to his house, which was only occupied by himself, his good old mother, and little boy. We soon had a good dinner. Out in the office I enjoyed a short sleep, a bath, and began dressing myself, Mr. Lowry coming in and placing his entire wardrobe at my service. I was soon inside of a nice white shirt and had a pair of brand new low-quartered calfskin shoes on my feet. He then brought me a black broadcloth frock coat, but there I drew the line. Having a neat gray flannel overshirt, I donned that, buckled on my belt and felt somewhat genteel. As there were to be religious services at the Cumberland church in the afternoon, we agreed to go into town. We walked in, however, as I had no disposition to show the mustang to my friends in town, and when we arrived at the church we found the congregation assembled and services in progress. I went quietly in and seated myself well back in the church, and when the services ended everybody, male and female, came up to shake hands, all glad to see me, among them my home folks, Mrs. Powers (“Aunt Tullie”), and Miss Aggie Scott, her niece. I accompanied them home, and met Mr. W. H. Powers, with whom I had lived and worked for several years, and who was my best friend. I found it a delightful experience to be here after an absence of more than three and half years. Of course I explained to them why I was in Huntsville and how I became lame. On Monday morning Mr. Powers called me in the parlor alone, and said to me, “Do you need any money?” “That depends,” I said, “on the amount a horse is going to cost me.” “Well,” he said, “if you need any, let me know, and at any time that you need any money, and can communicate with me, you can get all the Confederate money you need.” During the day our L. H. Reed came in from the command, bringing me a leave of absence to answer my purpose while away from the command.

Here I met my friend (Rev. Lieutenant-Colonel W. D. Chadick), who said to me upon learning my purpose in this neighborhood: “I have a good horse I bought very cheap, to give my old horse time to recover from a wound. He is about well now, and as I cannot keep two horses you can have him for what he cost me.” “How much was that?” “Three hundred dollars.” “All right,” said I, “the three one hundred dollar bills are yours, and the horse is mine.” This animal was a splendid sorrel, rather above medium size, about seven years old, sound as a dollar, and a horse of a good gaits. When I had gone forty miles from Huntsville one thousand dollars of the same currency would not have bought him. On Tuesday I had him well shod, mounting him the next morning, and while I was sorely tempted to remain longer, I started for Mississippi. I really had a very bad ankle, and could have called on an army surgeon and procured an extension of my leave and spent a few days more in this delightful way, but hoping to be well enough to perform the duties that came to my lot by the time I reached the command, I pulled myself away.

I went out and got the pony, left the borrowed articles of clothing, and crossing Tennessee River at Brown’s Ferry, I laid in corn enough before I left the valley to carry me across the mountains where forage was scarce. I strapped it on the pony and made good time to Columbus, Miss. Here I was detained several hours by Captain Rice, the post commander, much against my will. He claimed that he was ordered by General Jackson, in case he found an officer in the rear of the command, to detain him until he gathered up a lot of stragglers, who were to be placed in charge of the officer, to be brought up to the command. After worrying me several hours, he turned me over a squad of men, and I started out with them. As soon as I crossed the Tombigbee River I turned them all loose, and told them I hoped they would go to their commands; as for me, I was going to mine, and I was not going to allow a squad of men to detain me for an instant.

I passed through Canton about dark one evening, and learning what road the command was probably on, having left my pony as per instructions, I rode into our camp just at midnight. The next morning we moved to Mechanicsburg, loaded, capped, and formed fours, expecting to meet the enemy, which, however, did not prove to be the case. I therefore was able to be at my post by the time the first prospect of a fight occurred.

On my way down one day, I passed where the command had camped on a small creek, and noticing several dead mules I inquired into the cause, and was told they were killed from eating “Sneeze weed,” a poisonous plant that grows in middle and southern Mississippi. I learned to identify it, and as we had several horses killed by it afterwards, I was very careful when we camped, to pull up every sprig of it within reach of my horse.

On the long march from Spring Hill, Tenn., to Canton, Miss., Company C had the misfortune to lose four men—Dunn, Putnum, and Scott deserted, and McCain was mysteriously missing, and never heard of by us again.

General U. S. Grant had swung round with a large army through Jackson, Miss., fought a battle with General Pemberton at Raymond and another at Baker’s Creek, Champion Hill, where General Pemberton was driven back, having General Loring’s division and twenty pieces of his artillery cut off. Pemberton was compelled to fall back across Big Black River at Edward’s Depot into Vicksburg with the remainder of his army, and General Grant had thrown his army completely around Vicksburg on the land side, and that city was besieged. We were sent down here to hover around the besieging army, to see that they “‘have deyselves, and keep off our grass.” The large gunboats in the river, above and below, with their heavy ordnance were bombarding the city. These huge guns could be heard for many miles away, from early morning until night. When I first heard them I inquired the distance to Vicksburg, and was told it was a hundred miles. During the siege we had active service, driving in foraging parties, picketing, scouting, and occasionally skirmishing with the enemy.

About the first of July we drove the enemy’s pickets from Messenger’s Ferry, on Big Black River, and held that crossing until the 5th. Vicksburg was surrendered on the 4th, and on the evening of the 5th our pickets were driven from the ferry by a large force under General Sherman, who began crossing the river and moving east. General Joseph E. Johnston was in command of our army outside of Vicksburg, and at the time the city was surrendered he was down on Big Black, with his forces and a train loaded with pontoons—everything indicating his intention to attempt a cut through the enemy’s line to relieve General Pemberton. As soon as the surrender occurred General Johnston began falling back towards Jackson, and we fought the advancing enemy several days while he was making this retrogressive movement. We fought them daily, from early in the morning until late in the afternoon, holding them in check, though some days they advanced several miles and others only two or three, owing to the nature of the ground and the more or less favorable position afforded us. This detention gave General Johnston time to move his trains and infantry back at leisure and to get his army in position in front of Jackson. Finally falling back to Jackson, we passed through our infantry lines in front of the city and took our position on the extreme right wing of our army, beyond the northern suburbs of the city. Jackson, it may be well to state, is located on the west bank of Pearl River. General Sherman’s right wing rested on Pearl River south of the city, and his lines extended in a semicircle around the west of the city. Here we fought more or less for about a week, with some pretty severe engagements, directly in front of the city. In passing through the northern portion of the city to the position assigned to us we passed the State Lunatic Asylum. After we formed a line and everything was quiet, there being no enemy in our front, Joe Guthery, of Company B, sauntered out and reconnoitered a little and upon his return he approached Captain Jesse Wynne and said: “Captain, you ought to see General Johnston’s fortifications down by the asylum. He’s got a great big swiege gun planted there that demands the whole country around.”

One afternoon our works were assaulted by a brigade of General Lauman’s division, who were almost annihilated. For this move he was promptly superseded, as it was claimed he acted without orders. After some heavy fighting in front of the city I chanced to pass our field hospital where the surgeons were at work, and just behind the hospital I looked into an old barrel about the size of a potato barrel and discovered it was nearly full of stumps of arms and legs, bloody and maimed, just as they had fallen under the knife and saw. This to me was so ghastly a sight that I never remember it without a shudder.

As we had heretofore been dismounting to fight, I had not had an opportunity of trying my new horse under fire until now. We had a long line of skirmishers in extension of our line to the right in front of us and three or four hundred yards from a line of the enemy’s skirmishers. They were in the brush not exposed to view, so a desultory fire was kept up all along the line. I was sent up the line to deliver some orders to our men, and as I had to ride up the entire line and back, the enemy’s skirmishers soon began firing at me, and kept it up until I made the round trip, the minie balls constantly clipping the bushes very near me and my horse. This completely demoralized him, and he would jump as high and as far as he possibly could every time he heard them. Some horses seem to love a battle, while others are almost unmanageable under fire. The first horse I rode in the army was lazy and had to be spurred along ordinarily, but when we were going into a battle and the firing began he would champ the bits, pull on the bridle, and want to move up.

After some four days in front we were sent to the rear of Sherman’s army, where we captured a few wagons and ambulances and destroyed some cotton, and upon returning encountered the enemy’s cavalry at Canton. While we were on this enterprise General Johnston had retired from Jackson and fallen back to Brandon, and General Sherman, after a few days, returned to Vicksburg. Our brigade now moved out into Rankin County for a rest. Here orders were issued for thirty-day furloughs to one officer and three men of the company. As Lieutenant Hood was away on sick leave, I proposed to Lieutenant Carr that we would concede Captain Germany the first leave. No, he would not do that; he was as much entitled to it as Captain Germany. “All right,” said I; “then we’ll draw for it, and I will be sure to get it.” The drawing turned out as I had prophesied, and I presented the furlough to Captain Germany. The furloughs those days had a clause, written in red ink, “provided he shall not enter the enemy’s lines,” and that meant that in our case our men should not go to Texas.

In this “Siege of Jackson,” as General Sherman called it (July 10-16, 1863), the enemy’s reported losses in killed, wounded and missing numbered 1122. I am unable to give our losses, but in the assaults they made we lost very few men. General Sherman had three army corps on this expedition.

Our rest near Pelahatchie Depot was of short duration, as we were soon ordered back to guard the country near Vicksburg on the Big Black and Yazoo Rivers, with headquarters at Bolton Station. During Sherman’s occupation of Jackson he had destroyed miles of railroad track, bridges, and depots, and had also destroyed rolling stock, including passenger cars, flat cars, and locomotives. Now in August a force of their cavalry came out from Memphis and undertook to steal all the rolling stock on the Mississippi Central Railroad. They came down about as far as Vaughan’s Station and gathered up the rolling stock, including a number of first-class locomotives, intending to run them into Memphis or Grand Junction. We were sent after them and had a lively race. As they were about twenty-four hours ahead of us they would have succeeded, doubtless, had not some one burned a bridge across a small creek opposite Kosciusko. As may be imagined, we gave them no time to repair the bridge. We moved about a hundred miles in two days, with no feed for men or horses except green corn from the fields.

Reaching Durant very late at night in a drenching rain we were turned loose to hunt shelter in the dark as best we could, and we had a great time getting into vacant houses, under sheds, awnings, in stables or any available place that we might save our ammunition. At Old Shongolo, near Vaiden, the good ladies had prepared a splendid picnic dinner for us, but as we could not stop to partake of it they lined up on each side of the column as we passed, with waiters loaded with chicken, ham, biscuit, cake, pies, and other tempting viands and the men helped themselves as they passed, without halting.

One evening we stopped just before night to feed, for the horses were hot and tired, and our men hungry and in need of sleep. The horses were hastily attended to, that we might get some sleep, as we were to remain here until midnight, then resume the march. At starting time I found my horse foundered. Groping my way through the darkness to General Whitfield’s headquarters, I told him I could not go on, for my horse was foundered. “Old Bob’s in the same fix,” he said. “Cross Big Black River as soon as you can, and go back to the wagon train, and tell that fellow that has got old Bob to take good care of him.”

As the command moved off I started in the opposite direction. I had only gone a short distance when I came up with Lieutenant Barkley of the Legion, in the same sad condition. After daylight we stopped to breakfast at a house on the road, then crossed the Big Black, and, as our horses grew worse, we made a short day’s travel and spent the night with Mr. Fullylove, a generous old gentleman. Next morning the horses traveled still worse. About 10 A. M. we came to the residence of Hon. Mr. Blunt, of Attalah County, and decided that, with the permission of the family, we would remain here until morning. Consulting Mrs. Blunt, she said: “Mr. Blunt is not at home. The only persons with me are my daughter and a young lady visiting us; but if I knew you were gentlemen I would not turn you off.” We told her we were Texans, and claimed to be gentlemen—and we remained there until the next morning. After caring for our horses we were invited into the parlor or sitting-room and introduced to the young ladies. The visitor was Miss Hattie Savage, who lived only a few miles away. Soon the usual interrogatory was propounded. “Are you gentlemen married?” Barclay answered: “Yes, I am married. I have a wife and baby at home,” and exhibited the little one’s picture. I told them I was not so fortunate as to be married. Soon we had a good dinner and spent quite a pleasant day. The next morning, with many thanks for the generous hospitality we had enjoyed, we said good-by to the three ladies.

I found that my horse’s condition grew constantly worse, so that now he could scarcely get along at all. After traveling about three miles we came to the house of Mr. Leftwich Ayres, who proved to be a very excellent man. Seeing the condition of our horses, he invited us to remain with him until morning, which we did. At this time and ever afterward I received only kind and generous treatment from all the members of this family, which consisted of Mr. Ayres, his wife and her grown daughter, Miss Joe Andrews. A Mr. Richburg owned and operated a tanyard and boot shop near the Ayres place. I visited his shop and left my measure for a pair of boots, and found Mr. Richburg to be a most excellent man. He made me several pairs of boots afterwards. Next morning Mr. Ayres said to me: “Your horse cannot travel. Old Arkansaw is the only horse I have; take him and ride him, and I will take care of your horse until he is well.” I accepted the proposition, and Barclay and myself returned to our commands.

General Whitfield followed the Federals to Duck Hill, near Grenada, without overtaking them, and returned to Canton, and to Big Black and Yazoo Rivers.

When I supposed from the lapse of time that my horse had recovered, I obtained permission and went after him. Reaching Mr. Ayres’ home about ten o’clock one morning, he met me at the gate and told me that my horse was about well, that he had just turned him out for the first time to graze. I immediately felt uneasy, and being anxious to see him we walked around his inclosure and soon found him; but as soon as I came near him I saw the effects of the deadly sneeze weed, and in spite of all we could do for him in a few hours he was dead. Mr. Ayres was very much grieved and said, “I would not have had your horse die at my house under the circumstances for a thousand dollars. There’s old Arkansaw; take him and make the best you can of him—ride him, trade him off, or anything.” I therefore returned to the command on Old Arkansaw, a pretty good old one-eyed horse.

It is not possible now to remember all the movements made by us during the next two or three months, the number of foraging parties we drove back or the number of skirmishes with the enemy. As I have said I returned to the command mounted on Old Arkansaw, but did not keep him long, as I traded him for a pony, and traded the pony for a mule, a splendid young mule, good under the saddle, but not the kind of a mount I desired. Awaiting for a favorable time, I obtained leave to go to Huntsville, where I could obtain money to buy another horse. I soon made the distance over the long road at the rate of forty miles per day on my mule. Passing through Tuscaloosa one morning, after a travel of thirty-two miles, I put up with Mr. Moses McMath, father-in-law of General Joseph L. Hogg. Here I found General L. P. Walker, our first Secretary of War, who had started to Huntsville. We traveled together as far as Blountsville, he relating to me many interesting facts about the early days of the Confederate army, and here we learned that a division of Federal cavalry was then in Madison County.

At Warrenton, in Marshall County, I met Hop Beard, son of Arthur Beard, who had lost one of his hands in Forrest’s cavalry, and had a horse which he was now willing to sell. From Warrenton I went to Lewis’ Ferry on Tennessee River, fifteen miles below Huntsville. Here I found my half-brother, J. J. Ashworth. Crossing the river at this place I went up on the Triana road as far as William Matkin’s, about seven miles from Huntsville. Here I found Miss Aggie Scott, of the household of my friend, W. H. Powers, and was advised that it was unsafe to go to town. I therefore sent a message to Mr. Powers by Dr. Leftwich, who lived in the neighborhood, and he brought me seven hundred dollars. With this I returned to Warrenton and purchased a splendid black horse of Mr. Beard, really the best horse for the service that I had owned. I called him Black Prince. With the horse and mule I returned to Mississippi. I had met several Huntsville people at Warrenton, among them my friend Tate Lowry. He insisted that when I got back to Noxubee County, Mississippi, that I stop and rest at his plantation. I reached there about ten o’clock one rainy day, and remained there until next morning. I found his overseer a clever, agreeable man, and the plantation a very valuable property, and was shown the fine stock and everything of interest on the place. Noticing a long row of very high rail pens filled with corn, I remarked on the fine crop of corn he had made. “Oh,” said he, “that is only the tax in kind where I throw every tenth load for the Government.” And that was really only one-tenth of his crop! Our government claimed one-tenth of all produce, which was called “tax in kind.”

As I passed through Macon I was offered five hundred dollars for my mule, but I had determined to carry it back and give it to Mr. Ayres in place of Old Arkansaw. I rode up to Mr. Ayres’ house about three o’clock in the afternoon, presented him with the mule, and remained there until morning. While there Mrs. Ayres gave me enough of the prettiest gray jeans I ever saw, spun and woven by her own hands, to make a suit of clothes. I sent to Mobile and paid eighty-five dollars for trimming, such as buttons, gold lace, etc., and had a tailor make me a uniform of which I justly felt proud.

In September, perhaps it was, General Whitfield, on account of failing health, was transferred to the trans-Mississippi department, and the Rev. R. W. Thompson, the Legion’s brave chaplain, also left us and recrossed the Mississippi. The brigade was commanded alternately by Colonel H. P. Mabry, of the Third Texas, and Colonel D. W. Jones, of the Ninth, until Colonel L. S. Ross, of the Sixth Texas, was appointed brigadier-general and took permanent command of us, and the brigade was ever after known as Ross’ Brigade. Colonel Mabry was given command of a Mississippi brigade and sent down on the river below Vicksburg.

Early in December we attempted to capture a foraging party that came out from Vicksburg. Starting early in the night, Colonel Jones was sent with the Ninth Texas around to intercept them by coming into the road they were on near the outside breastworks. The command moved slowly until morning, when coming near the enemy we gave chase, galloping ten miles close at their heels. When they passed the point Colonel Jones was trying to reach he was in sight. We ran them through the outer breastworks and heard their drums beat the long roll. When we turned about to retire two of our men, Milligan and Roberts, fell back and entered the enemy’s breastworks and surrendered.