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Yankee (search for this): chapter 26
. The noise of the bombardment was constant, the click of the rifles on the line of pickets never ceased day or night, and many were the deceptions practiced by the pickets of both armies as they stood within speaking distance of each other to induce a show of heads above the long lines of rude rifle-pits. I remember how, one day, I and two of my companions fired for an hour at a rebel who kept for ever hopping up and down behind the sand bags and calling constantly, Try again, will you, Mr. Yankee? Finally the figure mounted up in full view, when we discovered we were cheaply sold, as the daring rebel was a stuffed suit of old clothes on a pole, while the mockery came from the real rebel, safe behind the sand bags. Another one, more reckless, however, placed himself in the open embrasure of a low earthwork for a moment, and shouted Fire I In an instant he lay stretched dead in the embrasure. An effort was made by his comrades to pull away his body, but shots were constantly fire
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
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
Vicksburg (Mississippi, United States) (search for this): chapter 26
on whose clear steel was soon to be engraved Vicksburg, Spottsylvania, the Wilderness, and Richmond at the battle of Champion hills, in rear of Vicksburg. We had crossed the Mississippi river at Grg Pemberton's army hastening to the walls of Vicksburg. It was a very hot day, and we had marched in the morning at reveille. In a few weeks Vicksburg was added to the victor's crown. The siege,orning of the day designated for the attack, Vicksburg trembled under the most terrific cannonade fldier knew that, as we had intrenched before Vicksburg, we would stay there until the city had surr. But Grant was not the only commander at Vicksburg with cool pluck, brave heart, and fixed detenity to break through and join the forces in Vicksburg or lend them a helping hand in getting out. rsary of the nation by pouring hot lead into Vicksburg. Pemberton certainly expected as much, and the enemy in our rear, under Johnston. The Vicksburg prisoners were to go back to a camp of parol[9 more...]
Chattanooga (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 26
went down to the docks, the boat on which I was to have had passage blew up, killing many soldiers and negroes. Later, I got on another steamer, which on our way up the river stuck on a sand-bar for days. My leave was for but a month, and in this vexing way was the time so precious to me being lost. At last I got home, saw my friends, and after eight days there, the only time spent at home during the whole four years war, I hurried back to join my corps, which was then on its march to Chattanooga. There I saw Grant, the last time for many months, preparing for the great battles of Missionary 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
Wilmington, N. C. (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 26
tudied his maps in the fire-light, or heard the reports from the other columns for the day. He was last in bed at night, and first in the saddle in the morning. Dinner consisted of a light lunch at twelve; all dismounted at the roadside, and an hour's rest brought us again to the saddle. So the days passed, and the enemy was continually pushed or beaten back from each and every chosen position. At Fayetteville a tugboat met us in answer to a message sent by one of Sherman's scouts to Wilmington. The general seized the opportunity to report his progress to the Secretary of War, at Washington, and to General Grant, then with his army before Richmond. At the breakfast-table that Sunday morning he announced his intentions, and I was to be the lucky one to go. That night a few of us ran down the Cape Fear river to the sea, and a ship bore me around Cape Hatteras, across to Fortress Monroe, and up the James to Grant. I found him in a little board cabin of two rooms. He stood talkin
Fayetteville (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 26
ll, of his own dispatches, leaving his staff little or nothing to do. After supper he studied his maps in the fire-light, or heard the reports from the other columns for the day. He was last in bed at night, and first in the saddle in the morning. Dinner consisted of a light lunch at twelve; all dismounted at the roadside, and an hour's rest brought us again to the saddle. So the days passed, and the enemy was continually pushed or beaten back from each and every chosen position. At Fayetteville a tugboat met us in answer to a message sent by one of Sherman's scouts to Wilmington. The general seized the opportunity to report his progress to the Secretary of War, at Washington, and to General Grant, then with his army before Richmond. At the breakfast-table that Sunday morning he announced his intentions, and I was to be the lucky one to go. That night a few of us ran down the Cape Fear river to the sea, and a ship bore me around Cape Hatteras, across to Fortress Monroe, and up
Washington (United States) (search for this): chapter 26
n outpost, being probably seized upon and eaten by the hungry soldiers of Pemberton's army. I have often wondered since then how that mule was accounted for at Washington. Was he reported stolen, captured, or simply Died on the field of honor? During the long weeks of the siege, the common soldiers saw Grant daily; not e us in answer to a message sent by one of Sherman's scouts to Wilmington. The general seized the opportunity to report his progress to the Secretary of War, at Washington, and to General Grant, then with his army before Richmond. At the breakfast-table that Sunday morning he announced his intentions, and I was to be the lucky ond 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 m
Fortress Monroe (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 26
n. At Fayetteville a tugboat met us in answer to a message sent by one of Sherman's scouts to Wilmington. The general seized the opportunity to report his progress to the Secretary of War, at Washington, and to General Grant, then with his army before Richmond. At the breakfast-table that Sunday morning he announced his intentions, and I was to be the lucky one to go. That night a few of us ran down the Cape Fear river to the sea, and a ship bore me around Cape Hatteras, across to Fortress Monroe, and up the James to Grant. I found him in a little board cabin of two rooms. He stood talking with a delegation of Northern citizens, who 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 ann
Fort Gibson (Oklahoma, 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 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
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