BATTLE AT YAZOO CITY

Midwinter—Through the Swamps—Gunboat Patrols—Crossing the Mississippi—Through the Ice—Ferrying Guns—Hardships—Engagement at Yazoo City—Harrying Sherman—Under Suspicion—A Practical Joke—Battle at Yazoo City—Casualties—A Social Call—Eastwood—Drowning Accident—A Military Survey.

The early days of January, 1864, found us floundering through the swamps in an effort to deliver to the trans-Mississippi department a lot of small arms, rifles, and bayonets. General Stephen D. Lee, commander of the cavalry in our department, wrote General Ross that there had been two or three unsuccessful efforts to put two thousand stands of arms across the Mississippi, and asking whether he thought his command could put them over. General Ross replied, “We will try.” So the brigade started with several wagons loaded with the arms and a battery of four pieces. This January proved to be the coldest month of the war, and for downright acute suffering from exposure and privation probably no month of our campaigning equalled this.

We crossed Yazoo River at Murdock’s ferry, and pretty soon were in Sunflower Swamp, about eight miles across. A slow rain was falling and the weather very threatening. With all the teams we had and all the oxen that could be procured in the vicinity, an all-day’s job, we reached Sunflower with one lone piece of artillery, every other wheeled vehicle being hopelessly bogged down in the swamp from two to five miles in our rear. While the command was crossing the river a blizzard swooped down upon us. By the time we reached a camp two miles beyond, icicles were hanging from our horses, and everything we possessed that was damp was freezing. The cold continued to increase, next morning everything was frozen stiff, and it would have been possible to skate on the ponds near the camps. In this state of affairs General Ross said to us: “What shall we do, give up the expedition or take these guns on our horses and carry them through?” The boys said: “Carry them through.” We mounted and rode back to the river, left the horses on the bank and crossed in a ferryboat, where ensued a grand race for the wagons across the rough, frozen ground and ice, for on a fellow’s speed depended the distance he would have to go for the load of guns he was to carry back to the horses. Warren Higginbothom, an athletic messmate of mine, passed me, and I asked him to save me some guns at the first wagon, which he did, and I returned to camp with other fortunate ones; but some of them were late in the night returning. So we remained in the same camp for another night. Many of the men were thinly clad and poorly shod for such a trip in the bitter cold weather, I myself being clad in a thin homespun gray jean jacket, without an overcoat; and having hung my gloves before the fire to dry and gotten them burned to a crisp, I was barehanded as well.

The next morning every man, including General Ross himself, took his quota of the guns, usually four apiece, and started to Gaines’ ferry, on the Mississippi, about fifty miles distant. Passing through Bogue Folio Swamp about seven miles, crossing the stream of that name and passing through the Deer Creek country, the garden spot of Mississippi, we came to within about three miles of the river and camped in a dry cypress swamp. As the river was closely patrolled by gunboats our aim was to cross the guns over at night. As no craft that a man could cross the river in was allowed to remain in the river, we found a small flatboat and dragged it with oxen over the frozen ground to the river, walking with loads of guns to meet it. The river here was running south and the cold north wind was coming down stream in almost a gale. The water was low and we approached it on a wide sandbar. Having slid the boat into the water, John B. Long, Nathan Gregg, of Company A, Si James, the Choctaw, and one other of the command volunteered to row it over. After it was well loaded with guns the boat was pushed off, but the strong wind drifted them down the river some distance, and, returning, they drifted down still farther, so that it was nine o’clock next morning when they returned to camp, with their clothes from their waists down covered with a sheet of ice so thick that they could not sit down. The first gunboat that passed destroyed the little flat. We then built another small boat, but before we could get it ready for use all the eddy portion of the river near the bank was frozen over and the current a mass of floating ice, so that it was impossible to cross in such a craft at night. Procuring two skiffs in addition to the boat, we crossed the remainder of the guns over in daylight, pushing through the floating ice with poles, the guns being delivered to Colonel Harrison’s command on the west bank of the river. For the days and nights we were engaged in crossing these guns we lived on fresh pork found in the woods, eating this without salt, and a little corn parched in the ashes of our fires. The weather continued to grow colder, until the ice was four inches thick on the ponds. The guns being disposed of, the piece of artillery was run down to the bank of the river, when soon a small transport came steaming up the river. It was given one or two shots, when it blew a signal of distress and steamed to the opposite shore and landed, and was soon towed off by a large boat going up the river. With some of our men barefooted and many of them more or less frost-bitten we returned to Deer Creek, where we could get rations and forage. As for forage there were thousands of acres of fine corn ungathered, and we only had to go into the fields and gather what we wanted. The Federals had carried off the able-bodied negroes, and the corn was still in the fields, and along the creek and through the farms there were thousands and thousands of wild ducks. I am sure I saw more ducks at one glance than I had seen all my life before. We retraced our steps through the swamps and the canebrakes and recrossed the Yazoo River in time to meet a fleet of twelve transports, loaded with white and black troops, escorted by two gunboats, ascending that river, evidently making for Yazoo City.

The Third Texas was sent out to meet a detachment of the enemy moving up the Mechanicsburg and Yazoo City road, and drove them back towards Vicksburg, the rest of the brigade, in the meantime, fighting the river force at Satartia and Liverpool. The Third rejoined the brigade at Liverpool, but being unable to prevent the passage of the enemy, we moved rapidly up the river and beat them to Yazoo City. Placing our artillery in some earthworks thrown up by Confederates in the early part of the war, we formed a line of riflemen down at the water’s edge. The fleet soon came steaming up the river, and when the front gunboat came opposite to us the battery began playing upon it, while the rifles kept their portholes closed so that they could not reply. It was not long before they abandoned the effort to land, dropped back and were soon out of sight down the river. Later in the day, from the smoke, we could see that they were steaming up Sunflower River, west of us.

When the people of Yazoo City saw that we had saved their town from occupation by negro troops, their gratitude knew no bounds, and this gratitude was shown practically by as great a hospitality as was ever extended by any people to a command of Confederate soldiers. In the evening a squadron, including Company C, was left on picket below the city for the night, at the point occupied during the day, while the command moved out on the Benton road to camp. To the pickets during the evening the citizens sent out cooked provisions of the nicest and most substantial character, sufficient to have lasted them for a week.

The next morning the brigade returned and as everything remained quiet, with no prospect of an early return of the enemy’s fleet, I rode uptown to take a view of the city. Numbers of others had done the same, and as the hour of noon approached we began to get invitations to dinner. Meeting a little white boy, he would accost you thus: “Mr. Soldier, Mamma says come and eat dinner with her.” Next a little negro boy would run up and say: “Mr. Soldier, Mistis say come and eat dinner with her.” And this manner of invitation was met on every corner, and between the corners. I finally accepted an invitation to dine with the family of Congressman Barksdale.

We were not allowed to enjoy the hospitality of this grateful city long on this visit, as General Sherman, who had planned a march to the sea, moved eastwardly out from Vicksburg, with a formidable force of infantry and artillery, and we were ordered to follow him. This we did, and kept his infantry closed up and his men from straggling. His cavalry, moving out from Memphis, was to form a junction with his main force at Meridian. Reaching that place, he halted, and we camped in the pine wood three or four miles north of the town. General Forrest was between us and the enemy’s cavalry, and our object was to prevent a junction, thus defeating the purpose of the expedition, and if Forrest was unable to drive the cavalry back we were to go to his assistance—that is, Jackson’s division was to do this.

One very cold, cloudy evening near sundown I was ordered to report to General Ross, mounted. When I reached headquarters I received verbal orders to proceed to Macon with the least possible delay, take charge of some couriers already there, use the telegraph, ascertain General Forrest’s movements, and report from time to time by courier. The distance to Macon was, say, forty-five or fifty miles, and the way led mainly through forests, with a few houses on the road. Clad in my gray jean jacket, without overcoat or gloves, but well mounted and armed, I started, alone. Soon after dark a light snow began to fall and continued all night. About midnight I reached DeKalb, the county seat of Kemper County, where I spent half an hour in an effort to rouse somebody who could put me on the road to Macon. At daylight I was several miles from my destination. Stopping at a house for breakfast I lay down before the fire and slept while it was being prepared, and after breakfast finished my journey.

Approaching Macon from the south I crossed Noxubee River, spanned by a splendid covered bridge, and noticed that it was so filled with tinder that it easily might be fired if the Federal troops should come in sight. As I rode into the town and halted to make some inquiries, quite a number of citizens gathered around me to learn who I was, and ask for the news. One sympathetic old gentleman, seeing that my hands were bare and cold, stepped up and presented me with a pair of gloves. I found that the citizens were scared and excited, as they were situated between Sherman and his cavalry. I endeavored to allay their uneasiness, and advised them not to burn the bridge, even if the enemy should appear, as that would only cause a temporary delay, and would be a serious loss to the town and country. From this they concluded I was a spy in the interest of the enemy, as I learned later, and for a day or two my every movement was closely watched.

I now put up my horse, found my couriers, repaired to the telegraph office, and informed the operator of my instructions. I spent most of the time in the telegraph office, when late at night the operator told me of the suspicion that I was a spy, and that he had cleared it up by asking General Jackson over the wires who I was. After this, while on this duty, I was treated with great kindness.

General Jackson now moved up to re-enforce General Forrest, and I rejoined the command as it passed Macon. We moved up as far as Starkville, but, learning that the enemy’s cavalry had been driven back, we returned to the vicinity of Meridian. As was expected, General Sherman began falling back towards Vicksburg, we following him. Arriving at Canton, Sherman, taking an escort, returned to Vicksburg, leaving his army to follow in command of General MacPherson. Under his command the Federal army moved without straggling and without further depredations. We learned from this improved condition of army discipline to respect MacPherson, and regretted to learn of his being killed in battle in front of Atlanta in July.

It was as the enemy returned on this trip that a battalion of Federal cavalry passed through Kosciusko, and their commander played a practical joke on the Union merchants there. These merchants, when they learned the Federals were coming, closed their doors and met them in the outskirts of town, and were loud in their assertions of loyalty to the Union. The officer asked them if they had done anything for the Union they loved so much. “No,” said they, “we have had no opportunity of doing anything, being surrounded by rebels as we are.” “Well,” said the officer, “we’ll see. Maybe I can give you a chance to do a little something for the Union.” Moving on uptown he found the rebels with open doors, and, in riding round, he would ask them why they had not closed up. They answered that they were so-called rebels, and were at the mercy of him and his men, and if their houses were to be plundered they did not wish the doors broken, and so they would offer no resistance. He placed guards in all the open doors, with instructions to permit no one to enter; then turning to his men, he told them if they could find anything they wanted in the houses that were closed, to help themselves, which they did. And thus an opportunity was given the “loyal” proprietors to do something for the Union.

Ross’ brigade returned to Benton on the 28th of February, and was in the act of going into camps at Ponds, four miles down the plank road towards Yazoo City, when a squadron of negro cavalry from the city came in sight. General Ross ordered detachments of the Sixth and Ninth Texas to charge them. The negroes after the first fire broke in disorder and ran for dear life. The negro troops, a short time previous to this, had caught and murdered two of the Sixth Texas, and as these fellows were generally mounted on mules very few of them got back inside the breastworks, these few being mostly the white officers, who were better mounted than the negroes. Among the killed along the road was found a negro that belonged to Charley Butts, of Company B, he having run away to join the First Mississippi Colored Cavalry.

On the evening of March 4 Brigadier-General Richardson, with his brigade of West Tennessee Cavalry, joined General Ross for the purpose of assisting in driving the enemy from Yazoo City, which is situated on the east bank of Yazoo River. The city with its surroundings was occupied by a force of about 2000 white and negro troops, commanded by Colonel James H. Coats, supported by three gunboats. About eight o’clock on the morning of March 5, 1864, the city was attacked by Ross’ and Richardson’s brigades, Brigadier-General L. S. Ross in command. Our fighting strength was about 1300 men, with two or three batteries; but as we dismounted to fight, taking out the horse-holders, every fourth man, this would reduce our fighting strength to about 1000 men. The enemy had the advantage of several redoubts and rifle-pits, the main central redoubt being situated on the plank road leading from Benton to Yazoo City. We fought them nearly all day, and at times the fighting was terrific. With the Third Texas in advance we drove in their pickets and took possession of all the redoubts but the larger central one. This one was in command of Major George C. McKee, of the Eleventh Illinois Regiment with nine companies: about four companies of the Eighth Louisiana negro regiment; Major Cook, with part of his First Mississippi negro cavalry, the same that had murdered the two Sixth Texas men; and one piece of artillery. The Third and Ninth Texas and Fourteenth Tennessee cavalry found themselves confronting this redoubt. Two of our batteries were placed so as to obtain an enfilading fire at easy range, and threw many shells into the redoubt, but failed to drive the enemy out. In the meantime General Richardson, with the rest of his brigade, the Sixth Texas and the Legion, drove the remainder of the enemy’s forces entirely through the city to the protection of their gunboats, and gained possession of the entire place except one or two brick warehouses near the bank of the river, behind which their troops had huddled near the gunboats. The Sixth Texas and Legion took position on the plank road in rear of the large redoubt, and thus at four o’clock in the afternoon we had it entirely surrounded, we being in front some 150 yards distant. At this juncture General Ross sent Major McKee a flag of truce and demanded an unconditional surrender. The firing ceased and the matter was parleyed over for some time. The first message was verbal, and Major McKee declined to receive it unless it was in writing. It was then sent in writing, and from the movements we could see, we thought they were preparing to surrender. But they refused, owing perhaps to the fact that General Ross declined to recognize the negro troops as soldiers; and how they would have fared at the hands of an incensed brigade of Texas troops after they had murdered two of our men in cold blood was not pleasant to contemplate. As for the negro troops,—well, for some time the fighting was under the black flag—no quarter being asked or given. Retaliation is one of the horrors of war, when the innocent are often sacrificed for the inhuman crimes of the mean and bloodthirsty.

The parley in reference to surrendering being at an end, little more firing was indulged in, as both parties seemed to have grown tired of shooting at each other. The troops were under the impression that we were to assault the redoubt, but instead of doing so we quietly retired just before nightfall, and returned to our camp on the Benton road. This was explained by General Ross in his report in this way: “To have taken the place by assault would have cost us the loss of many men, more, we concluded, than the good that would result from the capture of the enemy would justify.” Our loss in this engagement was: Ross’ brigade, 3 killed and 24 wounded; Richardson’s brigade, 2 killed and 27 wounded; total, 56. The enemy reported: 31 killed, 121 wounded, and 31 missing; total, 183.

Among our severely wounded was John B. Long, of Company C. Early in the day, ten o’clock perhaps, he was shot down on the skirmish line and was carried off the field and the word came down the line: “John B. Long is killed.—John B. Long is killed.” This was heard with many regrets, as he was a favorite soldier in the command. This report was regarded as true by all of us at the front, until we returned to our camp. The next morning I found him in Benton, wounded in the head; unconscious, but not dead, and he is not dead to this day (August, 1899). The next morning all the enemy’s forces left Yazoo City, and again Ross’ brigade was regarded as an aggregation of great heroes by these good people.

One morning while we were camped in this neighborhood, one of the boys came to me with an invitation to visit a lady residing between our camps and Benton. She wished to see me because I had lived in Huntsville, Ala. When I called I found Mrs. Walker, daughter-in-law of General L. P. Walker, of Huntsville. She was a beautiful young woman, bright, educated and refined, easy and self-possessed in manner, and a great talker. She lived with her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, her husband being in the army. Mrs. Walker was an enthusiastic friend of the brigade, and would not admit that they had ever done anything wrong, and contended that, inasmuch as they had defended the city and county so gallantly, anything they needed or wanted belonged to them, and the taking it without leave was not theft. And this was the sentiment of many of these people.

For the remaining days of March we occupied practically the same territory we had been guarding from the fall of Vicksburg. On or about the last of March General Ross sent Colonel Dudley W. Jones, in command of the Third and Ninth Texas regiments, to attack the outpost of the force at Snyder’s Bluff, destroy Yankee plantations, etc., etc. I did not accompany this expedition, I am sure, as I have no recollection of being with it; nor do I now remember why I did not do so. The Yankee plantations alluded to were farms that had been taken possession of by Northern adventurers, and were being worked under the shadow of the Federal army by slaves belonging to the citizens. Cotton being high, they expected to avail themselves of confiscated plantations and slaves to make fortunes raising cotton. Colonel Jones captured and destroyed at least one such plantation, captured one hundred mules, some negroes, and also burned their quarters.

Early in April we started east, with the ultimate purpose of joining General Joseph E. Johnston’s forces in Georgia, moving by easy marches. There was some dissatisfaction among the men on account of heading our column toward the rising sun, as they had been promised furloughs on the first opportunity, and this looked like an indefinite postponement of the promised boon. Arriving at Columbus, Miss., we rested, and here Lieutenant-General Leonidas Polk, then commanding the department, made a speech to the brigade, alluding to the fact that they had been promised furloughs, postponed from time to time, and assured us that as soon as the present emergency ended Ross’ brigade should be furloughed. He assured the men that he had the utmost confidence in their bravery and patriotism, and though it had been hinted to him, he said, that if he allowed these Texans to cross the Mississippi River they would never return, he entertained no such opinion of them.

We now moved from Columbus to Tuscaloosa, Ala., the former capital of that grand old State. The good people of this beautiful little city on the banks of the Black Warrior had never before seen an organized command of soldiers, except the volunteer companies that had been organized here and left the city and vicinity, and their terror and apprehensions when they learned that a brigade of Texans had arrived was amusing. They would not have been in the least surprised if we had looted the town in twenty-four hours after reaching it. As we remained here several days, and went in and out of the city in a quiet orderly manner, they soon got over their fears. There were numbers of refugees here from Huntsville, Florence, and other north Alabama towns, and some of us found acquaintances, especially General Ross and his adjutant-general, Davis R. Gurley, who had been in college at Florence. During our stay the ladies gave several nice parties for the benefit of the brigade. While we were here a great many fish were being caught in a trap above the city, and the men would sometimes go at night in skiffs up to the trap and get the fish. On one occasion Lieutenant Cavin, Harvey Gregg, and a man named Gray, of Company A, went up, and getting their boat into a whirlpool, it was capsized and the men thrown out into the cold water, with overcoats and pistols on. Gregg and Gray were drowned and Cavin was barely able to get out alive.

After several days we moved some miles south of the city, where forage was more convenient. In the meantime General Loring, with his division, had come on from Mississippi. Receiving an invitation through Captain Gurley to attend a party given by a Florence lady to him and General Ross, I went up and spent two or three days in the city. While there I visited my friends in Loring’s division, and also visited the State Lunatic Asylum, where I found in one of the inmates, Button Robinson, of Huntsville, a boy I had known for years. I also attended a drill of the cadets at the university. Friends of the two young men that were drowned had been here dragging the river for their bodies for some days, and finally they got one of General Loring’s batteries to fire blank cartridges into the water, and their bodies rose to the surface, when they were taken out and buried.

The mountainous country lying north of Tuscaloosa and south of the Tennessee valley was at this time infested with Tories, deserters, “bushwhackers,” and all manner of bad characters, and it was reported that the Tories in Marion County were in open resistance. So on the morning of the 19th of April Colonel D. W. Jones, of the Ninth, was sent with detachments of the Sixth and Ninth Texas and a squadron from the Third, under Captain Lee, amounting in all to about 300 men, up into that county to operate against these Tories. On the same morning I was ordered to take fifteen men of Company C and accompany Lieutenant De Sauls, of the Engineers’ Corps, from Tuscaloosa, up the Byler road to Decatur, on the Tennessee River, and return by way of the old Robertson road, leading through Moulton and Jasper to the starting point, for the purpose of tracing out those roads to complete a military map then in preparation. Applying to the quartermaster and commissary for subsistence for my men and horses, I was instructed to collect “tax in kind.” We moved out in advance of Colonel Jones’ command. Our duties on this expedition necessitated our stopping at every house on the road to obtain the numbers of the lands,—that is, the section, township, and the range,—ascertain the quarter section on which the house stood, learn the names of all creeks, note all cross roads, etc., etc. I subsisted the men and horses on tax in kind, which I had to explain to the poor people in the mountains, as they had never heard of the law. There was not much produced in this country, and there were so many lawless characters in the mountains that the tax collectors were afraid to attempt to collect the impost. The people offered me no resistance, however, and to make the burden as light as possible I would collect a little from one and a little from another. I had the horses guarded every night, but really had no trouble. I met with one misfortune, much deplored by me, and that was the killing of James Ivey by Luther Grimes, but under circumstances that attached no blame to Grimes in the eyes of those who saw the occurrence, as Ivey made the attack and shot Grimes first, inflicting a scalp wound on the top of his head. I reported the facts when I reached the command, and there was never any investigation ordered.