Longstreet's Return—Farewell to Lee

It was in October, our corps (two divisions) being on the north side, that we had the happiness of welcoming our chief back to his command.

His right arm was quite paralyzed and useless.

He had taught himself to write legibly and easily with his left. Following the advice of his doctor, he was forever pulling at the disabled arm to bring back its life and action. He succeeded, for, though never strong, its use was partially restored in later years and his pen went back to it.

I was with him but a few days. My commission as brigadier-general came unexpectedly, a note from my friend Burton Harrison, the President's Secretary, to the effect that it had been signed, reaching me the evening before. This was the first inkling I had of the promotion. Elsewhere it has been told how it came about, and I began preparing to move, my orders being to report to Lieut.-Gen. A. P. Hill for command in Mahone's division. Hill's corps was on the south side in front of Petersburg. Lieut.-Col. O. Latrobe succeeded me as A. A. G. and chief of staff; an excellent assignment. A brigadier going to an organized command carries no staff with him. That is attached to the brigade, not to the general. He has one appointment, that of A. D. C. (captain's rank), personal to himself. There were many applications for the place, but sending for Spencer, private, Fort Alabama, my sergeant of couriers for several years, I almost floored the modest fellow by asking if he should like to go with me as captain. "Of course" he should, and did, and was part and parcel of that brigade of Georgians in no time until Appomattox dispersed us. I had made no mistake in him; an exceedingly useful staff officer.

Few can know how painful it was to part with my corps and its chief. I had started with them at the opening battle, handled its growing battalions into brigades and divisions, and shared its battles, expeditions, and campaigns; was proud of its renown; was known to officers and men of every regiment and had, I believe, their confidence and respect. It was much to give up, but the duty called, and on a fine morning I mounted with my A. D. C. to cross the river and take up my new billet. I shall be excused, I hope, if a little homesickness is confessed.

My comrades did not let me go easily. The night before there was a farewell party of many officers at headquarters. A goodly quantity of apple-toddy was consumed, but not to hurt, and the party, General Longstreet with us for a time, was full of feeling, touching me keenly by its spontaneous demonstration.

Here ended the staff officer's duties, but his recollections will yet carry him a little way forward while commanding his brigade. The end was fast approaching, and my concluding jottings seem to belong to what has gone before.

Turning my back, then, for the first time on the glorious old First Army Corps, I reported next day at A. P. Hill's quarters. Nothing could exceed his kindness in receiving me; it continued all through my service in his corps and I had every evidence of the good feeling of this distinguished officer. I was to report next to General Mahone for command of his Georgia brigade. This remarkable man was at breakfast when I entered and immediately had me seated with him.

Maj.-Gen. William Mahone was a Virginian, about forty years of age. His appearance arrested attention. Very small both in height and frame, he seemed a mere atom with little flesh. His wife said "none." When he was shot (slightly) she was told it was only a flesh wound. "Now I know it is serious," said the good lady, "for William has no flesh whatever." Sallow of feature, sharp of eye, and very active in movement was the General; in dress quite unconventional, he affected jackets rather than coats, and on a certain hot summer's day that I recall he was seen, a major-general indeed, but wonderfully accoutered! A plaited brown linen jacket, buttoned to trousers, of same material, like a boy's; topped off by a large Panama straw hat of the finest and most beautiful texture, met our eyes, and I must say he looked decidedly comfortable. But not always was he thus attired. He could be strictly uniformed when he chose.

He had been president of the railroad between Petersburg and Norfolk, and retaining the office, managed the road all through the campaigns. Finally the enemy captured his wagon-load of railroad papers, records, etc., and Mahone was raging. It was that railway, when hostilities ended, that he combined with others connecting and gained a start into the political power and mischief he exercised in Virginia. His brigade of Virginians had not seen much hard fighting until the Wilderness, and there they did well. It was at Petersburg, in command of his division of five brigades from Virginia, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Florida that he justly won great reputation for brilliant achievements in defense of the beleaguered city. He was undoubtedly a general of very uncommon ability.

While we sat, I enjoyed his breakfast. A high liver, nothing could excel it, and he was never without the materials. A cow was always by his quarters and laying hens cackled loud, besides many luxuries. Delicate in physique, he had to nourish himself carefully.

I received his orders to take command of my Georgians, and mounted on my way to them. Mahone was said to be irritable and in some instances tyrannical, but for myself I had invariably nothing but consideration, and often good help from him.

The brigade was in trenches far on the right, not in very close touch with the enemy, and was having a quiet time of it with Col. William Gibson in command. He was well known in Georgia politics for some years, and a very brave officer; repeatedly wounded, but without discipline or organization. Leave of absence was allowed him to return to Georgia.

On assuming command, Captain Evans, a line officer detailed as A. A. G., supposing that I was bringing an officer of the staff department with me, suggested that probably I should wish him to rejoin his regiment.

But I wanted him with me. He had long filled the post, was acquainted with almost every officer and man of the brigade, and was a brave and qualified officer. The command consisted of the Second, Twenty-second, Forty-eighth, and Sixty-fourth regiments and Second and Tenth battalions, Georgia Infantry. The Sixty-fourth regiment and Tenth battalion were late levies and had not made the great reputation of the others, while serving under Wright and Girardy. The latter was a most promising officer promoted from captain in the brigade, and was killed at the head of it two weeks after taking command.

The Third Georgia enjoyed a reputation excelled by none in the army.

My first thought was to get supplies of clothing and shoes for the men and have the command relieved from trench duty, to which it was entitled by the length of service in them. Our work strengthening the defenses always went on, and there was no time for much-needed drill and military exercise.

General Lee, taking his daily ride about the lines, came on me while the working parties were digging and spading. His greeting was, "Good-morning, my young friend; I feel sorry for you." "Why so, General?" "Because you have so much to do," answered the commander, the gleaming white teeth showing his pleasant humor as he continued his ride. He generally had some such words to let one know he expected a lot of work out of him.

I was not unsuccessful as to my wants. A fair quantity of supplies were issued and orders came for relief from the trenches and to pitch good winter camps a little in the rear. It was great joy to the troops.

A good piece of woods was selected and a fine camp of winter huts laid out and built according to regulations, with battalion fronts and company streets and all the rest in good soldiery form. Once settled, drill became the order of the day in good weather. There were fine open fields near by furnishing good ground, and company drill, battalion drill, and evolutions of the line by the brigade were followed up vigorously, as well as all military exercises and street duties practised and perfected. The men were in much need of the instruction. Decided neglect in these respects had fallen on this fine brigade after the stern and gallant Wright left it, and the good effects of the efforts now working out were soon apparent.

The greatest want was in field officers; so many had been wounded and left with the enemy at Gettysburg, besides others sick at home or in the hospital, that the regiments suffered thereby.

I wrote urgently and personally to Mr. Ould, our commissioner for exchange, to get back to me certain officers whom I wanted badly. He managed to get only one, Colonel Snead, of the Third Georgia, and him I was glad to have.

The brigade was well equipped with staff officers of the subsistence, quartermaster, ordnance, and medical departments. The commissary, Major Hughes, an excellent fellow, was the same who had sold me those two sorry mounts that broke down in the Chickamauga Campaign. On reporting, he evidently thought I might recall him unfavorably and was a bit uneasy, until shown that no ill feelings were harbored against him. In horse dealing it is "caveat emptor"—the buyer must look sharply to himself.

It was not long before Capt. H. H. Perry, of the Adjutant-General's Department, was transferred from Benning's brigade to report to me as A. A. G. There being two of that department with Benning and none with me, Perry was summarily transferred without any question. He had always performed inspection duty, and preferring it, was assigned to that branch of his department in my brigade, thus retaining Evans as A. A. G. "Old Rock" (General Benning) always believed I was at the bottom of the whole business and never forgave me.

I was surely fortunate in securing so excellent a staff officer. Highly educated, experienced with troops, active and resourceful, he soon became prominent and strong in the brigade as well as attached to his brigadier. He is still with the living in Georgia, numbered among my dear friends.

At times the soldier's ration was execrable, really unfit. Some bacon from Nassau was coming through the blockade, and it would not be incredible for the blockading fleet to allow it to come through in hope of poisoning us. A third of a pound of this stuff and some corn-meal was often the full extent of the daily ration.

Sometimes we got better allowances of wheat flour, and then General Mahone took a notion to improve on it by baking. The brigade commissaries were ordered to set up ovens—plenty of bricks and material lying about—and issue the flour baked in good loaves. There is, too, a slight gain in weight in baking. But the men would none of such food, it was too light and wholesome. Their stomachs wanted the flour stirred with grease in a skillet and cooked solid and hard. When a chunk was eaten it stayed with the soldier and kept his appetite partly appeased. But these new-fangled loaves—so easily digested! Hunger came again, almost before finishing one of them. Not for Johnny Reb was this thing; he wanted, like Tommy Atkins, "some bulk in his inside," and one fine morning Mahone's ovens were found completely demolished. The soldiers took again to their old-time toothsome and staying morsels out of the skillet.

Christmas of 1864 was now at hand. The birth of the Prince of Peace was given such honor amid the warlike scenes of the siege as our small resources permitted. Some boxes came from loving hearts at home, the commissaries did all they could, and the Army of Northern Virginia actually feasted, trying to forget for an hour or two the perils and hardships that beset it.

At Christmas General Sherman was in Savannah, his march to the sea a complete success. My people at home suffered no great annoyance. Sherman as a young lieutenant had shared my father's hospitality and had not forgotten it. The old gentleman, however, persistently fastened on him the crime of burning his comfortable country establishment in Virginia.

Sherman's march and other movements in the West were in Grant's strategic combination for the destruction of Lee's army and should be considered in estimating his abilities outside of operating in Virginia. Indeed, it might be said that Sherman contributed to the fall of Richmond almost as much as did the Army of the Potomac.

Early in January it came on to be very cold, and during the worst of it our division was ordered out to meet a threatening demonstration against our right at a considerable distance. My brigade marched instantly, our camp being occupied by Gen. C. A. Evans's Georgia Brigade to fill our position on the line. Evans was in luck to get his men into such well-prepared camps. We moved rapidly and in two days came up with a large force of the enemy, formed in line and prepared for battle. It appears, however, that he was not ready this time, or that he overestimated the Confederate strength sent against him. Some shelling was indulged in and small-arm long-distance firing. It seems that but two or three of us were touched, among them myself. I was sitting on the white mare (my other mount gone suddenly lame) in front of the line, with no thought of firing then, so distant was the enemy,—quite out of range,—when a long-range rifle sent a bullet through many folds of thick clothing and striking on the hip bone knocked me out of the saddle. It proved to be nothing serious. The ball had glanced off, stiffening and bruising the leg rather painfully, so that remounting after some bandaging, it stuck out like a wooden leg. I did not think that just such a hit could unhorse me.

My men said the brigade was unlucky for its commanders. General Wright had been repeatedly and dangerously wounded; several colonels commanding, wounded or killed, and General Girardy killed. I began to think there might be something in it. The enemy took up the march, and leisurely rejoining their main body to the right, Mahone's division began moving for the camps just vacated. It continued very cold, much ice and snow lying about the roads. At our last bivouac some miles from camp I suffered a loss, nothing less than a noble pair of riding-boots, a present, kept for extra work.

At the bivouac the negro servant had taken them out of the blanket roll and failed to replace them. As soon as they were missed, back he went and returned with the precious leathers burned to a crisp! Our campfires had spread through the forest. At this period boots cost five or six hundred dollars of our currency, if to be had at any price.

On starting back I sent word to General Evans of our approach so that my camps could be vacated in good order. The men were utterly disgusted and indignant when they re-entered their quarters. They were little like the well-kept camps they had temporarily vacated. Evans's officers had not properly restrained the careless, reckless soldiers. I made vigorous complaint at headquarters, but at this date there was perhaps too much else to think of. General Evans is now chief of the veterans in Georgia and held in great respect by their dwindling numbers.

Mahone's other brigades were efficiently commanded by Finnegan, Florida; Harris, Mississippi; Weisiger, Virginia; Sanders, Alabama.

In the first days of February another demonstration was made against Lee's extreme right, this time in great force and meaning business. Our division and other troops with cavalry at once pushed out to meet it, with Finnegan in command of division (Mahone was absent, sick). The collision came at Hatcher's Run by some preliminary skirmishing on February 5th, a sanguinary action on the 6th, followed up by the enemy feebly on the 7th. On the 6th, my Georgians were hotly engaged in the afternoon and made a handsome, successful charge, which dislodged and forced back the Federals. The contest went on until darkness stopped it, and the night passed entrenching where we stood, caring for wounded and burying dead.

Early next morning the enemy, driving back my pickets, got too close to us, and a rifleman put a bullet through my right lung, smashing the ribs front and rear. I was down this time for good, I supposed, the breath gushing through the orifices instead of its natural channel. The surgeon, Dr. Wood, however, soon relieved that by plastering the holes, and sent me back that night. The roads being frozen and very rough, my brave fellows made two relief gangs and bore their commander by litter on their shoulders eight miles to a small shanty, where rest was taken.

All through the night, while passing stray troops on the road, I could hear the question, "Who have you there?" "General Sorrel." "Is he badly hurt?" "Yes, mortally wounded." The soldier habitually takes a gloomy view of things.

Very soon I was in comfortable quarters near Petersburg, in the hands of my excellent brigade surgeon, Dr. Sampson Pope, and progressed so well that in a fortnight I could be moved to Doctor Sorrel's quarters in Richmond, under treatment of my friend Dr. J. B. Reid, and with that ended the staff officer's soldiering. A few closing words will bring me to the end of these "Recollections" nearly forty years behind us.

My wound healing satisfactorily, Doctor Sorrel proposed in March taking me to "The Oaklands," the beautiful estate in Roanoke County of Colonel Wm. Watts, who had kindly sent me an invitation to visit him. He was the invalided colonel of the Twenty-eighth Virginia, of the First Corps, a fine officer and most hospitable, the leading man of the county. To him we went, the change being very beneficial. Then the railroad station was Big Lick, a post-office, shop, and tavern. It is now grown to be Roanoke, a prosperous city of 25,000. Colonel Watts's widowed sister, Mrs. Rives, presided over the delightful old Virginia establishment. Her lovely character won all hearts. The stately figure and attractive features were known and admired widely over the countryside. To me she was kindness itself, and no marvel is it that I mended rapidly.

There was an engagement of a few months' standing between Doctor Sorrel and Mrs. Rives, and soon after our coming the uncertain future was considered. They decided to wed without longer waiting, and the ceremony, quite private, was performed at the residence, myself in full uniform as the Doctor's best man, propped on my feet by the dignified, silver-haired black major-domo.

While in this part of the country I heard much about Hunter's expedition into it the previous year and the devastation he had brought in the region round about. Truly Maj.-Gen. David Hunter, of the United States Army, was a torch bearer if nothing else. He had no military distinction, but had served against the Indians, it is said, with the same cruelties it was now his delight to apply to non-combatant dwellers in southwest Virginia and the head of the Shenandoah Valley. No property within reach of his destroying hand seemed safe from him. His fame lay not in the soldier's hard-fought battles, but in burning farmers' houses and barns. The extensive schools at Lexington aroused his hate and were laid in ashes by his torch.

General Crook, the fine soldier then serving with him, said, "He would have burned the Natural Bridge could he have compassed it." Marvel it is that Hunter did not blow it up. He was, however, beaten off by Early's forces and the home guards, and the country cleared of that devastator. There was little more heard of him as a soldier.

Maj.-Gen. George Crook was altogether a different character. He was a soldier of high training and tried courage, making no war on women and children, houses and barns.

Some time later, one of our daring rangers, NcNeil, with a small following, achieved a bold exploit. While Crook was commanding a department at Cumberland, Md., the ranger penetrated many miles within the blue lines, took the General out of bed, mounted him well, and landed his distinguished prisoner safely in Richmond.

There Doctor Sorrel, who had served with him in the old Army, called to see to his comforts. Crook as a thorough-going Indian fighter was not without some admiration for the way NcNeil had gathered him in. "But, Sorrel," said he, "I shall get even with that fellow at his own work. Just as soon as I get out of this my commission will drop for a few weeks, while I raise a hundred men with whom I undertake to beat Master NcNeil at his own game."

Such was perhaps his intention then, but, exchanged soon after, there was other and more important work awaiting this gallant and respected officer.

Early in April, after grateful farewells to my host and new sister, we started to rejoin the army. At Lynchburg came to us the accounts of the surrender at Appomattox, with all the pathetic, harrowing details attaching to that event; the feeling of the soldiers, their overflowing affection for Lee and sympathy with him and his own hidden but overwhelming grief—I pass them by. My brigade was on hand in good shape, with Captain Perry looking after it, and paroled stronger than any brigade in the army. (See Appendix.)

The commandant at Lynchburg, General Lomax, placed at my disposal an ambulance and mules to get out of reach of the Union forces. We could not yet realize that the war was ended with the life of Lee's army. I took to the mountains for some days, and then finding things really ended and my troublesome wound breaking out afresh, ventured again on Colonel Watts's hospitality. It was as generous as the day. But it was time to move, and after farewell to hospitable Oaklands the Doctor and I started on our return home. The rails were sufficiently repaired to take up to Lynchburg, where we were paroled by the United States officer. Between us we had just fifteen dollars good money, and it came to me in this way. When I was last in Lynchburg, as already described, one of our quartermasters pressed on me $20 in gold, four half-eagles; "A barrel of Confederate money not good," as he said, "for the price of a dinner."

Some time after I came up with a young Maryland cavalryman making his way back to Baltimore. He had no coat or jacket, although the rest of him was good, and I wanted to know why. "Well," said young Latrobe (it was my friend's brother), "my horse wanted a set of shoes. The farrier would not look at my money, but took the jacket, and I got my shoes." It was quite certain the young fellow would part with his remaining outfit, piece by piece, with the same easy nonchalance, if need be, and I insisted on his taking one of my half-eagles. But for that the "Peeping Toms" of Baltimore might possibly have seen a new Godiva, "clothed only with chastity," riding through their streets fresh from the Southern armies. Their blushes and the young cavalryman's were saved by that golden half-eagle.

From Lynchburg to Richmond the route was tedious and wearying. It was partly by rail, partly in an army wagon, and partly on foot. On arriving at the Confederate capital we were amid the ruins of the great fire that nearly destroyed it. The army of occupation was in force, everywhere the Union army filled one with wonder. It was like the ant in numbers, and I really could not take in its unstinted equipment in wagons, ambulances, mules, draught horses, light artillery, and horse furniture, all apparently new and of the best class for field work. The contrast with our own inadequate equipment was very decided, and still greater was the splendor of their officers, mounts and uniforms, and the good clothing of the soldiers, with what on our part had contented us. In Richmond, nursing our dwindling cash, we found a frugal but cheerful hospitality while preparing for the next move to Baltimore, where we were sure of meeting my good father's provision for us. My weak condition would not permit me making the journey home on horse-back; it must be by sea.

At Richmond we took the oath, as prescribed, to the United States Government, the courteous Federal officer asking pleasantly if it "tasted bad?" This done we hoped to get a permit to leave by boat for Baltimore, but were refused. No movements of Confederate officers, except Marylanders returning, were suffered in that direction. The decision was then forced on us that we must go, "coÛte que coÛte." It was managed successfully with some little risk. By the help of friends we were smuggled on board just as the boat was starting. The Doctor was in mufti and I had doffed as much military attire as I could. We kept very quiet and secluded on the main deck of the boat as she glided down the river of so many warlike scenes of the preceding years! past frowning Drewry's Bluff, past bristling Chappin's farm, City Point, Westover, and Harrison's Landing, Turkey Bend and Butler's Dutch Gap Canal—all saddening and depressing in the retrospect, crossing thoughts of the misty future. At the fortress a short stop was made, and then the voyage up the noble Chesapeake resumed. One of the coal passers here recognized me with a wide, astonished grin. He was one of my brigade fellows, in now for a job at anything. The night was passed on the bay and could have been very comfortable with a trifle more cash. We had, however, just about enough to pay for passage, without bed or meals. So we stood out the long night and could provide some small refreshments. When morning came we were moored to the wharf, and I soon found my good Baltimore relatives most hospitably inclined, and our troubles for the time were done with.

There were many Confederate officers and soldiers about the city, all watched quite closely by the Federal authorities. General Hancock was in command of the department, and from his adjutant-general I received an order to report in person. Upon so doing I was questioned as to my reasons for being in Baltimore and my intentions. Upon explaining why I was returning home by that route and that I should have to go to New York to find a steamer for Savannah, he was civil and obliging; allowed a stay of a week in Baltimore; but I was required to report once in every twenty-four hours. The next day this considerate officer dispensed with such visits, adding, "You shall not, General, be troubled in any way while you are stopping here." Here Doctor Sorrel left me. Deciding to defer his visit home, he returned at once to Virginia. A few days later I was in New York at the New York Hotel, Mr. Cranston the proprietor, and for years past, as then, the resort of everything Southern. There were many officers in the hotel, some I suspect by Cranston's good nature and kindness. After a visit to some relatives and friends, who had only thought of me as one dead, I took passage for Savannah on a small, crowded, most uncomfortable little steamer. The rough voyage was safely made, and I landed on my own shores in dear old Georgia, greeted by kindred and friends, with hands outstretched in a hearty welcome home.

And now these recollections approach their close. There are many more thronging, pulsing memories that could interest, perhaps instruct. What is here gathered has been an inexpressible comfort and occupation in the colorless hours of recent tedious convalescence, and could be extended, but the parting word must be spoken.

It is farewell to the Army of Northern Virginia and its ever-glorious commander.

His name, his fame shall forever live! His sword, unstained, be ever a soldier's shining light and bright example!

His army incomparable holds, after long years, the abiding love of its surviving veterans. Who that marched with it, fought with it, took part in its victories and its defeats, shared its sufferings and its joys, shall ever be deaf when its deeds are sung or mute when ring out its plaudits!

For my part, when the time comes to cross the river like the others, I shall be found asking at the gates above, "Where is the Army of Northern Virginia? For there I make my camp."