THE END OF THE WAR

Christmas—I Lose All My Belongings—The “Owl Train”—A Wedding—Furloughed—Start for Texas—Hospitality—A Night in the Swamp—The Flooded Country—Swimming the Rivers—In Texas—Home Again—Surrender of Lee, Johnston, and Kirby Smith—Copy of Leave of Absence—Recapitulation—Valuation of Horses in 1864—Finis.

Although we moved in a very leisurely manner in order to give General Hood a chance to put a pontoon bridge across Tennessee River and cross his infantry, artillery, and wagon trains, the enemy never came in sight of us again.

Our Christmas was spent on this march. The weather was quite cold and many of our poor soldiers had to march over frozen ground barefooted. Between the 25th day of December, 1864, and the 1st day of January, 1865, everything had crossed to the south side of the river, during a little more than a month having seen much hard service, severe fighting, and demoralizing disaster. We continued to move leisurely southward. The main army moved to Tupelo, Miss., while our command moved to Egypt Station on the Mobile & Ohio Railroad. After crossing the river General Ross detailed Captain H. W. Wade, of the Sixth Texas, Lieutenant Thompson Morris, of the Legion, and myself as a permanent brigade court-martial.

Egypt Station is situated in one of the richest of the black land districts. Corn was abundant, and we remained there several days, during which time it rained almost incessantly, but the court-martial procured quarters in a house and was able to keep out of the black mud, which was very trying on the men in camp. Being scarce of transportation for baggage when we started to Georgia, the officers’ trunks and valises, containing all their best clothes, were left in Mississippi in charge of a detail of two men, afterwards reduced to one. While we were moving out of Tennessee the baggage was run up to a small station on the Mobile & Ohio Railroad, and just before we reached it a small scouting party of the enemy’s cavalry swooped down, fired the station, and all our good clothes went up in smoke. In fact, this and Kilpatrick’s raid left me with almost “nothing to wear.”

Leaving Egypt, we moved slowly back to our old stamping-ground in the Yazoo country. We camped one night some seventy-five miles north of Kosciusko, and in the morning, before the command was ready to move, about 180 men from the brigade, including several from Company C, Third Texas, mounted their horses and moved out, without leave, and started for the west side of the Mississippi River. They had organized what they were pleased to call an “owl train,” a term of no significance worth explaining. It meant that they had become demoralized and impatient for the promised furlough, and had determined to go home without leave. It was a source of great regret to see numbers of men who had been good soldiers for fully three and a half years thus defiantly quit the command with which they had so faithfully served, but not a harsh word was said to them, nor was effort made to stop them. Whether they would have returned or not, I do not know; perhaps many of them would, but circumstances were such that they never did. To this day many of them, perhaps all, live in constant regret that they were induced to take this one false step when we were so near the end.

On the same morning Lieutenant William H. Carr and myself obtained permission to go ahead of the command, to have some boots made, and started for Mr. Richburg’s shop. A little after night the second day we reached the house of Mr. Savage, and obtained permission to spend the night. Soon after we were seated by a splendid blazing fire, his daughter, Miss Hattie, whom I had met at Mr. Blunt’s about eighteen months before, came into the room. She recognized me very readily, and was apparently glad to meet me again. As there was to be a wedding at their house in about three days, she very cordially invited us to attend, which we agreed to do, provided we remained in the neighborhood that long. We hurried on to Richburg’s shop, ordered our boots, which he promised to make right away—that is, in about three days. We then went to the home of my friends, the Ayres family, and made that our home for the time being. The wedding was attended by us, in company with Miss Andrews, the step-daughter, and our boots were finished just in time to enable us to join the wedding party at the dinner given the next day in Kosciusko, ten miles on our way. Here we dined, after which, bidding farewell to our friends and acquaintances, we hastened on to overtake our command.

Unexpectedly, a little later, we were favored with an order to furlough one-half of the command, officers and men, it being my fortune to be of the “one-half.” Selecting and sending up the names of those to be furloughed, writing up and returning the papers, consumed time, so that it was February before we were ready to start to Texas. Lieutenant-Colonel Jiles S. Boggess, of the Third Texas, being the ranking field officer to go, was to be nominally in charge of the furloughed men, and as he lived in Henderson, my expectation was to go home with him; but it turned out otherwise. The day for starting was agreed on, leaving Colonel Boggess to bring my papers and meet me at Murdock’s ferry on Yazoo River. I left camp the day before and went up to the home of John F. Williams and spent the night. John F. Williams had been sheriff of Cherokee County, Texas, in an early day, but had moved back to Mississippi. His two sons had joined our company, but Wyatt, the older one, being physically disqualified, had been discharged. He was anxious to come to his grandfather in Marshall, Texas, and I loaned him a horse on which to make the trip; and, declining to bring my boy Jake on so long a ride, to return so soon (as I then believed), I gave him a horse and saddle and told him to take care of himself.

Starting next morning with Wyatt Williams, I came on to Lexington and spent the night at the residence of our “Aunt Emma Hays.” Mrs. Hays was one of the noblest women we met in Mississippi, a great friend to Ross’s brigade collectively, and a special friend to a good many of us individually. Her good old mother, Mrs. West, was there. She had lived in Marion, Ala., and was strongly attached to persons of my name there, and would always insist that I favored them, and was related to them; and the good, kind-hearted creature would do all she could for me and seemed to regret that she could not do more. These two kindly ladies furnished me luncheon enough to have lasted me, individually, almost to Rusk.

The next day we rode in the rain all day to Murdock’s ferry, where, as we arrived after dark, it required a good deal of yelling and waiting to get a boat to cross in. Finally we stopped at Colonel Murdock’s gate and, although his house appeared to be full of soldiers, we were welcome. Murdock was the big-hearted man who, when the brigade camped on his premises for a day and night, refused to sell the man sweet potatoes, but said: “Go back and tell the boys to come up to the house and get as many as they want.” I had made the acquaintance of Mrs. Murdock and her sister, Miss Ford, of Louisiana, who was visiting her, at Lexington some months previous. I found Captain Sid Johnson, of Tyler, was at Mrs. Murdock’s home. Mrs. Murdock whispered to me and said: “Supper will soon be ready for the company, but I wish you and Captain Johnson to wait and eat with the family.” This we did, and afterwards were invited into the parlor, and pleasantly entertained by the ladies, Mrs. Murdock the while urging me to remain and spend my leave of absence with them instead of going to Texas.

In the meantime the rain continued to pour down, and increased in violence, continuing all next day and the next night. While the others all pushed on except Williams and myself, I remained there until afternoon. About noon Colonel Boggess reined up at the gate long enough to say “Come ahead,” and rode off in a torrent of rain, and the next time I saw him he was in Henderson, his home. Finally Williams and I started, intending to cross Sunflower Swamp and Sunflower River that evening, but soon found the whole country was overflowed, and losing much valuable time in trying to cross a creek without swimming it we had to lay out in the swamp that night. We cut a lot of cane for our horses to stand on, and piled a lot up by an old tree, and on that we sat down all night in the rain.

Next morning by swimming a large creek we reached Sunflower River, found it bank full, the ferryboat on the west side, and the ferryman gone. By going down the river three or four miles we found a farm and a private ferry, but it was afternoon when we crossed. Reaching the Mississippi we found a number of the men waiting to get over, but Colonel Boggess had crossed and gone on. The crossing was tedious in the extreme, as the only means of doing so was to swim the horses by the side of a skiff, and this had to be done in the daytime, when you had to look out for gunboats. When over, it was very uncertain with whom you were going to travel, as every fellow, when he got his horse up the bank and over the levee on the west side, at once struck out for Texas. I lost Williams and never saw him afterwards.

The country between the Mississippi and Red River was practically afloat. We crossed a great many streams, how many I do not remember, and we found but one stream, Little River, where the bridge was not washed away. We traveled along near the Arkansas and Louisiana line, sometimes in one State and sometimes in the other. The first stream encountered after crossing the Mississippi was a large bayou in the bottom, which we crossed on a raft constructed of logs tied together. We ferried Ouachita River, two miles, crossed Little River on a bridge, and had to swim every other stream, averaging something like three a day. We struck Red River at Carolina Bluff, some twenty miles above Shreveport, and had to swim the overflow in several places to get down to Shreveport, where we found dry ground. We came through it all with but one serious accident, and that was the drowning of a negro boy. I traveled mostly with Dr. Blocker, of Harrison County, and three or four of the Third Texas from Smith County.

One morning I found my horse badly foundered, so that I could not keep up with my crowd. Coming to Magnolia, Ark., about noon, I had to sell one of my pistols in order to trade for a horse that was able to bring me on.

Upon reaching Henderson, about eleven o’clock one day, the first man I recognized on the street was Lieutenant-Colonel Jiles S. Boggess, of the Third Texas Cavalry. He abused me roundly for being behind, and threatened that I should never leave the town with whole bones unless I went down to his house and took a rest and dinner with him, and I yielded. Here I learned that the “owl train” gang had not yet reached Texas, that they crossed the river, had been arrested at Alexandria, perhaps, and were detained under guard at Shreveport. Through the influence of Colonel Boggess, however, they were soon afterwards released by General Smith and allowed to come home.

I reached Rusk a little before noon the next day.

The following is a true copy of the paper on which I came to Texas:

At the proper time I presented myself to Colonel Boggess at Henderson, and reported to him that I was ready to start back. He told me he had no idea that we could cross the river, as it was reported to be from five to twenty-five miles wide; that he had sent a man to ascertain whether it was possible for us to cross it, and if so he would let me know, and directed me to return to Rusk and remain until I heard from him. Thus matters stood until the startling news reached us that General R. E. Lee had surrendered his army in Virginia. This was followed in quick succession by the surrender of General Joseph E. Johnston in North Carolina, the other commanding officer, and finally by General E. Kirby Smith’s surrender of the trans-Mississippi department.

And then—then the four years’ war, with all its fun and frolic, all its hardships and privations, its advances and retreats, its victories and defeats, its killing and maiming, was at an end.

I am unable to give the losses of Ross’ brigade sustained in the Atlanta campaign. If it was ever given out officially I never saw it. But our ranks were very much depleted as the result of this long campaign. Some went to the hospitals badly wounded, some were furloughed with wounds not considered dangerous, some were rolled in their blankets and buried where they fell, and others were carried to Northern prisons, there to die or remain until the close of the war.

Nor can I now give the loss we sustained in the Nashville campaign. It was carefully made up in detail, but I do not remember it. I remember that John B. Long, of Company C, was shot through both thighs, and I remember two gallant members of Company B, Bud McClure and Joe Robinson, were killed near Pulaski on the retreat.

The regulation that our horses should be listed and valued now and then, to show the estimation placed upon horseflesh in the currency of our Government, I give the following valuations made in the early part of the year 1864, of the officers and men then present for duty, viz.:

Captain John Germany, one bay horse, $2000; Lieutenant W. H. Carr, one sorrel horse, $1200; Lieutenant R. L. Hood, one sorrel horse, $1600; Lieutenant S. B. Barron, one black horse, $1400; one bay mule, $1000; First Sergeant John B. Long, one bay horse, $900; Second Sergeant R. L. Barnett, one sorrel mare, $1500; First Corporal D. H. Allen, one sorrel horse, $1600; S. D. Box, one bay horse, $1500; Stock Ewin, one sorrel horse, $2500; J. J. Felps, one brown mule, $900; Luther Grimes, one sorrel horse, $1400; J. B. Hardgraves, one sorrel horse, $1500; J. R. Halbert, one sorrel mare, $1200; J. T. Halbert, one gray horse, $1500; W. H. Higginbotham, one gray horse, $1200; J. H. Jones, one bay mare, $1000; W. H. Kellum, one brown mule, $900; S. N. Keahey, one gray horse, $1100; G. A. McKee, one sorrel mule, $1400; Jno. Meyers, one dark roan horse, $800; Tom Petree, one sorrel horse, $1100; J. B. Reagan, one black mule, $900; C. M. Roark, one sorrel horse, $1200; A. B. Summers, one black horse, $1500; J. W. Smith, one brown horse, $1600; E. S. Wallace, one bay horse, $1600; J. R. Watkins, one sorrel horse, $2000; C. Watkins, one cream horse, $1200; T. F. Woodall, one sorrel horse, $1000; R. F. Woodall, one sorrel horse, $1600; J. W. Wade, one gray horse, $1800; T. H. Willson, one gray mule, $1000; E. W. Williams, one sorrel horse, $1400; N. J. Yates, one black mule, $1000.

THE END