Part 17 (2/2)
Modlin, turned a back somersault off the back end of the cart and followed the darkey; the mule running against a tree beside the road, demolished the cart and spilled the goods in a most promiscuous manner. My position behind them all, enabled me to take in the whole of this ludicrous scene and I should have laughed if they had all been killed.
Being deserted by my guard and left alone, I started towards the column, firing a small pistol that had been presented to me, into the woods, the rebs being within five or six rods of the road, but a cap got foul and it would not revolve, so I returned it to my belt and drew my navy revolver.
As I pa.s.sed them they gave me a volley, but all fired over my head, and neither myself or horse were touched.
As I rode up towards the column, I saw Captain Hock out in front five or six rods, firing his pistol into the woods, and every one seemed to be fighting on his own hook.
I called out and asked where Captain Roache was, and some one said he was hurt. I then called to the men to come out, where I was still sitting on my horse, and form, which they did with alacrity. Capt. Roache, soon recovering from a stun he had received in dismounting, took command and we soon had the Johnnies driven back. Our men were all dismounted and followed the rebs a short distance, but as they were in the swamp we remounted and started on towards Plymouth without further molestation, except that they came out into the road again, after we had gone eight hundred or a thousand yards, and fired one volley at my rear guard.
We had five horses wounded, but lost no men either in killed or wounded.
Five or six months after, when I was taken prisoner at Plymouth, I saw the Lieutenant, who was in command of the ambus.h.i.+ng party, and in talking about that skirmish he said, that when that volley was fired at me at such close quarters (not over fifteen rods) and I being such a splendid mark sitting on my horse, he thought I was gone sure.
Mrs. Modlin, the next day having recovered her mules, and picked up her household goods, came into Plymouth alone.
We had an Irish Lieutenant in the 12th Cavalry, whose quaint expressions gave us much merriment. When we first went to Camp Palmer, we had daily drills; he being 1st Lieutenant, drilled the first platoon of the company, and I the second. We used to take them out separately, and I used to be greatly amused at the orders he would give. We commenced by drilling the men in the sabre exercise, and I was watching him the first day. When he got his men into line, and after having them take the proper distance, he gave the command something like this: ”Attention, min! Now I am going to larn yees how to draw sabre. Whin I say 'draw!' don't you draw; but whin I say 'sabre!' out wid it.” Now those who do not understand the sabre drill may want a little explanation as to how this was to be done. At the command ”draw” the sabre is loosened from the scabbard and drawn about six inches; and at the command ”sabre” it is drawn out and describing a half circle to the front, carried to the shoulder.
Another favorite order of his when he wished to give the order, ”fours right” and then form the squad on right into line, was this: ”On ladin set of fours, form line of battle, faced to the rare, march!” Turning to the Major, who was watching him drill one day, after executing this manoeuvre he said, ”Major this is a bully movement on a retrate.” While we were near Camp Palmer, our advance picket post was about five miles from camp, at a place called Deep Gully; and it was usual for the officer of the day after guard mount, to march his guard under command of the Sergeant, to Deep Gully, in columns of fours. This Irish Lieutenant, being officer of the day one time, after the inspection of the guard was completed and the Adjutant had turned them over to him with the usual instructions, rode out in front and gave his orders thus: ”Attention guard, draw sabre! carry, sabre! be twos or be fours, whichever yees like.
Deep Gully, to the front! Away wid yees.”
While at Plymouth, the two Captains and four Lieutenants, of our two Cavalry companies, formed a mess, each officer contributing his share towards the expenses. After a while, however, one of the Captains offered to run the mess, for so much a head per week, agreeing to give us good board. Well, for a week or two, every thing went smoothly and all seemed satisfied with the fare. One day we had chicken for dinner, made up into a sort of soup, or more properly speaking, gruel. This, by breaking some hardtack into it, though rather thin, was rendered quite palatable by judicious seasoning, and there being plenty left it was warmed up for dinner again. The third day as we sat down to dinner, we found another dish of this gruel on our plates, somewhat diluted, and looking rather feeble.
When this Irish Lieutenant sat down to dinner he took a look at the soup, and recognizing in it some infinitesimal portions of the old friend of the two previous days, shoved back his plate and with flushed face e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed: ”Be jabers I like soup; I'm fond of soup, I like soup for forty or fifty meals, but by jabers as a gineral diet I don't think much of it.”
We had good quarters in Plymouth. Our quarters were in a two-story white house, built as most of the houses in the South are, with a wide hall running through the centre and instead of a cellar, the house was set upon posts, so as to give free access to the air underneath. Our Irish Lieutenant occupied one large room up stairs, and I occupied one just across the hall from him. One Sunday morning I heard a noise in his room, and stepping across the hall, opened his door, and at first thought by his language that he was engaged in his Sunday morning devotions, as he was a strict Catholic. When I opened the door and took a look at him, I was startled at the sight which met my gaze. He was standing in the middle of the room, with a new white flannel s.h.i.+rt about half on, his head protruding, and his face of apoplectic hue, his arms extending upward, and he seemed incapable of either getting out of or into the s.h.i.+rt. It was one of those heavy white flannel s.h.i.+rts such as we all took with us at the commencement of the service, which would shrink in was.h.i.+ng to about one-half their original size.
As I entered the room there was a look of discouragement upon his face, which from a liberal use of commissary and natural swarthiness, was always somewhat flushed, and now looked like a boiled lobster, which gave it a frightful appearance. The first sentence I heard sounded like a prayer; he said, ”Oh! may the Lord take particular pains to d.a.m.n the nagur that washed this shurret.” Taking in the situation at a glance, I discreetly withdrew and allowed him to conclude his devotions.
Making Yankees out of the Contrabands, was a pleasing pastime for our boys after the war had ended; and hundreds of these dusky ”innocent causes”
flocked into Tarboro, N. C., after we occupied that Secesh town, to be transformed into ”Linc.u.m Yankees.” Instead of going to headquarters, they would generally go directly to the company quarters, where the boys would heartily welcome them. To the question, ”well boy, do you want to be made a Yankee?” They would say ”yes ma.s.sa, I spects I does.” A good strong blanket would be brought out and six stalwart fellows would hold it on either side and the candidate would be gently placed upon it.
The question would then be asked, ”Do you promise to support the Const.i.tution of the United States?” to which they would usually respond, ”I 'spects I does, ma.s.sa.” The order would then be given, attention! one, two, three, go; and he would go. At first they would toss him gently, but at every successive toss he would go higher and higher, until he could almost, as one expressed it, see the ”gates ajar;” some would almost turn white when they were tossed up to such a fearful height, but as soon as one was p.r.o.nounced reconstructed and ent.i.tled as such to all the rights and privileges of an American citizen, another would step forward and signify his desire to become a Yankee. There was very seldom any accident in these initiating exercises, but I remember of one, in which some of the boys became too weak, from excessive laughter, to hold onto the blanket, and a strapping young negro came near being killed; as I think he surely would have been, had he not fortunately struck the ground head first.
CONCLUSION.
Reader, while I do not claim for this volume any rare literary merit, I trust a perusal of its pages may have afforded you some little pleasure, and instruction. I can cheerfully place it in the hands of my old prison a.s.sociates, confident that they will testify to its truthfulness and fairness.
While the language is my own, I can confidently claim that it conveys no imaginary sufferings and privations. I have endeavored to speak of the Southern prisons and of the treatment meted out to those whom the fortunes of war compelled to endure and suffer the hards.h.i.+ps, tortures and privations of a lingering confinement in those loathsome pens of starvation, provided by the self-styled Southern Confederacy, as a punishment for loyalty to country and the flag, just as I found them. Not to the _people of the South_ do I lay the blame of the frightful mortality among prisoners, in those pens of starvation, but to Jeff. Davis and the infamous Winder; who boasted that they were doing more execution among the prisoners, than Lee's whole army was doing in the field; to them I say that the blood of thirty-five thousand loyal hearted patriots, cry from the ground of Andersonville, Salisbury, Florence and Belle Island, unto a just G.o.d, for vengeance upon those who so cruelly, heartlessly and fiendishly _murdered them_.
To them I say that should they flee to the uttermost parts of the earth, they cannot escape the contempt of an outraged world, nor the curse of the thousands of mothers, widows, and fatherless children, whom they have in their fiendish hatred, robbed of their beloved sons, husbands and fathers.
APPENDIX.
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