Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 25.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

[230] major, and inasmuch as we had recovered the cannon on the 17th he was put in charge of it when it was brought back to the canal. It was right in the road, and the Federal prisoners, when brought in, would be brought before Captain Clyburn. He is now, and was then, one of the politest men in the world. He would receive these Federal officers with the utmost courtesy, but he would always insist on the spoils of war. Captain Clyburn had plenty of greenbacks and good clothing so long as this trap lasted. He lived well, too. He once asked me to dinner with him. ‘Take this seat, up against this tree; you can see to the front, and you are in no danger, I can assure you. None of the Federal balls ever come lower than this mark,’ said he, showing me a spot on the tree about three inches above my head. About a day or two afterwards Captain Clyburn showed me where a Federal ball had struck the tree fully six inches below, just where my head had been.

Four years after this battle I revisited this field. When I went into the army for good my wife had made me a pretty woolen shirt, and put in it my set of amethist and pearl studs, so that if I was killed, as she said, whoever found my body would see I was a gentleman and give me decent burial. A few days after I had been among the tadpoles, as above related, I went to the rear, towards the Appomattox, to bathe and wash my clothing. I found, I thought, a safe place, and deposited my studs on a stump, taking my shirt with me into the water. While busy in my laundry the Federals made an attack, and their balls fell so thick around me that I retreated, taking my clothing, regardless of my studs. My remembrance is that Captain Martin, of General Hagood's staff, was wounded in the same vicinity that day. So when I went North for my health in 1868, and passed through Petersburg, I stopped over to see the old battlefield and find my studs. I found the stump, but the studs were gone.

The old forts were reversed. Instead of facing North they faced South. Some negro women and a man were hoeing corn on the site of the left fort. I asked them ‘if that was a Yankee or Rebel fort?’ ‘He Yankee fort,’ was the answer. I was miffed, I said: ‘I was here in the fight, and just where the women are hoeing three men were killed by one shell, and we buried them right there.’ Down went the hoes, and away went the women, just as the Federals had done years before.