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Mississippi (United States) (search for this): chapter 26
Recollections of Grant. S. H. M. Byers. Looking over my diary to-day, kept when a corporal in Company B, I find this half-faded entry: This day our corps, the Seventeenth, McPherson commanding, marched from the Mississippi river up to Fort Gibson. While I was standing by the pontoon bridge watching the boys cross the bayou, I heard somebody cheering, and, looking round, saw an officer on horseback in a major general's uniform. He dismounted and came over to the very spot where I was son camped beyond and over the river — in that last tenting-ground where the reveille was heard no more forever. I next saw Grant on May 18th, 1863, and this time at the battle of Champion hills, in rear of Vicksburg. We had crossed the Mississippi river at Grand Gulf, and swung off east and north; had fought the battles of Port Gibson, Raymond, and Jackson, and were overtaking Pemberton's army hastening to the walls of Vicksburg. It was a very hot day, and we had marched hard, slept littl
Charleston (South Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 26
g Yankee. I also saw, however, from the top of Mission Ridge, the flying enemy, and the grand advance of Thomas' and Sherman's armies. I was a prisoner! What I experienced during more than fifteen months in the prisons of Libby, Columbia, Charleston, and elsewhere, will not be related here. In September, 1864, the Libby prisoners, seven hundred in number, and all officers, were transferred from Charleston to a camp in the woods, on the Congaree river, near Columbia, South Carolina. ThereCharleston to a camp in the woods, on the Congaree river, near Columbia, South Carolina. There seemed but one outlook ahead for us, and that was a lingering death, unless hastened by some attempt to escape. I had got away twice, for a few days at a time, but was recaptured, and my position made even worse than before. In December, Sherman had made that brilliant march to the sea, and in February was engaged in that still more arduous campaign through the Carolinas to Richmond. I learned that his army was approaching Columbia, and for the third time attempted to get away. I escaped th
Savannah, Tenn. (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 26
ho had come down ostensibly to encourage the army, but in reality to interfere with the plans of its commander by insisting on giving some pet advice. In those days everybody thought himself fit to command an army, and the newspapers seemed to be all edited by major generals, so full were they of warning instructions, We told you so's, etc. I was announced to Grant as a bearer of dispatches from Sherman, whose Army I soon learned had not been heard from since cutting loose from its base at Savannah, the greatest anxiety being felt for its safety the country over. Grant took my hand and conducted me into the little back room, closing the door behind us. The dispatches, which I had sewed up in my clothes, were turned over and carefully read, and I saw with what a glow his face lighted up as he read of the continued successes of his friend and co-commander. He hurried them through again, rose to his feet, and for a moment paced the little room; then suddenly opening the door he called
Fitz Lee (search for this): chapter 26
fficer was called and ordered off to see what it meant. It is one of the usual make-believes that we are having daily, said Grant. I asked if an engagement was expected. He replied it was quite possible at any hour; but his own opinion was that Lee at that very moment might be getting ready to try and escape from Richmond, and that this thundering cannonade was one of his preparatory ruses to attract attention. The correctness of his opinion was proven in a few days, when Lee and his whole Lee and his whole army fell back from Richmond, only to be captured at Appomattox Court-House. Grant mentioned that the Secretary of War, Mr. Stanton, was there from Washington, and would visit him that evening, and suggested that he should take charge of my other papers and turn them over to him. He was then kind enough to ask about my own personal experiences, especially my life in prison, and if I, too, confirmed the horrible tales of suffering that had met his ears daily. I gave him a list of what we had t
Raymond (search for this): chapter 26
ed: Over the river! Over the river! Ah! that night we slept with our guns in our hands; and another night, and another, saw more than one of our division camped beyond and over the river — in that last tenting-ground where the reveille was heard no more forever. I next saw Grant on May 18th, 1863, and this time at the battle of Champion hills, in rear of Vicksburg. We had crossed the Mississippi river at Grand Gulf, and swung off east and north; had fought the battles of Port Gibson, Raymond, and Jackson, and were overtaking Pemberton's army hastening to the walls of Vicksburg. It was a very hot day, and we had marched hard, slept little, and rested none. Among the magnolias on Champion hills, the enemy, forty to fifty thousand strong, turned on us. Sherman's Corps was already engaged far on the right as we approached the field in that overpowering Mississippi sun. Our brigade was soon in line, on the edge of a meadow, or open field sloping toward the woods, where the enemy w
H. B. McClellan (search for this): chapter 26
I still possess some of the feeling that overcame me at that moment as I stood so near to one who held our lives and, possibly, our country's in his hands. I heard him speaker: Men, push right along; close up fast, and hurry over. Two or three men mounted on mules attempted to wedge past the soldiers on the bridge. Grant noticed it, and quietly said, Lieutenant, send those men to the rear. Every soldier passing turned to gaze on him, but there was no further recognition. There was no McClellan, begging the boys to allow him to light his cigar by theirs, or inquiring to what regiment that exceedingly fine-marching company belonged to. There was no Pope, bullying the men for not marching faster, or officers for some trivial detail remembered only by martinets. There was no Bonaparte, posturing for effect; no pointing to the Pyramids, no calling the centuries to witness. There was no nonsense, no sentiment; only a plain business man of the republic, there for the one single purp
Billy Sherman (search for this): chapter 26
rson, the Bayard of the West, were there; and Sherman, the brilliancy of whose deeds were soon to e was: You don't know me, perhaps. My name is Sherman. My enemies in the North sometimes call me Crazy Sherman; but, in my sane moments, I have said this war may last seventeen years yet; and I knog enemy, and the grand advance of Thomas' and Sherman's armies. I was a prisoner! What I experon made even worse than before. In December, Sherman had made that brilliant march to the sea, andcuation by the rebels, and the grand entry of Sherman's army. Sherman, with his characteristic kinSherman, with his characteristic kindness, sought out myself and others who had been prisoners, and who had escaped, and cared for the met us in answer to a message sent by one of Sherman's scouts to Wilmington. The general seized tI was then questioned as to many a detail of Sherman's last movements. We have been in perfect igeartily. And this, then, was the disaster to Sherman's army, of which the rebels had been boasting[11 more...]
George H. Thomas (search for this): chapter 26
ssionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain. I was under Sherman now, and joining in the charge made by a part of Smith's Division, on the right wing of Bragg's army, was surrounded and captured. It was the last battle of my life. I saw my sword, and pistols, and purse divided among a corporal and two privates, who came near shooting each other on account of the trophies captured from the young Yankee. I also saw, however, from the top of Mission Ridge, the flying enemy, and the grand advance of Thomas' and Sherman's armies. I was a prisoner! What I experienced during more than fifteen months in the prisons of Libby, Columbia, Charleston, and elsewhere, will not be related here. In September, 1864, the Libby prisoners, seven hundred in number, and all officers, were transferred from Charleston to a camp in the woods, on the Congaree river, near Columbia, South Carolina. There seemed but one outlook ahead for us, and that was a lingering death, unless hastened by some attempt to esca
Napoleon (search for this): chapter 26
round, saw an officer on horseback in a major general's uniform. He dismounted and came over to the very spot where I was standing. I did not know his face, but something told me it was Grant Ulysses Grant, at that moment the hero of the Western army. Solid he stood-erect; about five feet eight, with square features, thin closed lips, brown hair, brown beard, both cut short and neat. He must weigh one hundred and fifty pounds; looks just like the soldier he is. I think he is larger than Napoleon, but not much-he is not so dumpy; looks like a man in good earnest, and the rebels think he is. And this was the first time I saw Grant. I think I still possess some of the feeling that overcame me at that moment as I stood so near to one who held our lives and, possibly, our country's in his hands. I heard him speaker: Men, push right along; close up fast, and hurry over. Two or three men mounted on mules attempted to wedge past the soldiers on the bridge. Grant noticed it, and quietl
Wade Hampton (search for this): chapter 26
h laughed heartily. And this, then, was the disaster to Sherman's army, of which the rebels had been boasting so loudly. I expected just exactly as much, said Grant. Kilpatrick had, in fact, a most laughable adventure with a narrow escape, however, for life. He was at Sherman's headquarters the day after the surprise, and I heard him telling how he was chased, and his staff captured and put up stairs in a house, where they remained while he rallied his men in the swamp, and surprised Hampton in return, and to more purpose, too, than he himself had been surprised. He lost a couple of hundred of prisoners, however, and some horses. But Kilpatrick kept his ground and lived to lead his dashing cavalry on many another field. How do the men seem off for shoes and for coats? asked Grant. I replied, if suffering, there was no complaint. At that moment a fierce and sudden cannonade commenced at some point on the enemy's line. An officer was called and ordered off to see what it m
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