A new tent mate

Just before leaving John’s Island on regular furlough Lieut. Whilden had assigned to my tent, to have with some quiet person he said, a young man from Camden S. C. who had just [116] then joined the company, named Henry Witherspoon Du Pre; on my return this time I had found him occupying the same still so we were again tent mates, and I was much pleased with it. I found him to be circumstanced like myself in many things, and of a similar disposition, and as I was by a number of years his senior he readily followed my advice.

On the 16^th April a company of cavalry that had been encamped near us left for Virginia, and Capt. Walter intending to occupy the camp or cabins of the same after a proper airing, the location being a more healthy one, sent a guard to prevent the negroes of the neighboring plantations from tearing down the same, myself and tentmate being of the number; here we passed a very pleasant time, having nothing at all to do; my friend and myself enjoyed many pleasant rambles about the country, spring then being just in its glory, the air redolent with the perfume of the flowers, while the birds sang their tuneful lays on all sides. The intention having, for some cause, been abandoned, we were after a six weeks stay recalled to camp and sent next day to Green Pond to do Provost guard duty; here we remained until the 2^nd June when we were ordered back, as our company was about removing to our old quarters at Adam’s Run, which it did on the 4^th June,

Camp Horsey June 4/64

naming the same after our Third Lieutenant “Camp Horsey”.

Expedition to John’s Island July 10/64

On the 10^th July 1864 we received orders to start immediately for John’s Islands the enemy were crossing in force from James’ Island; having harnessed up in haste we were soon on our way; having arrived there the two rifle guns were ordered forward, the howitzers meanwhile remaining in reserve;

A battle, “Waterloo”

heavy cannonading in our front soon told us that our boys were at them, reports from there reached us in a short time after confirmed our surmises, and we learnt that the enemy had made an advance with their colored troops in the lead, but that they had been repulsed but were always resuming the charge. Nearly the whole day the engagement waged, when in the afternoon intelligence reached us that one of our men, a driver, named [118] William H Lynch, had been wounded in the leg by a shrapnel ball so that the same had to be amputated, but the loss of blood on the field before assistance had reached him, being under fire, had so weakened him that he did not long survive the operation. This was our first loss by the casualties of war.

About the last of August my tent mate Du Pre was taken sick and sent to the company hospital, but as he did not improve there he was transferred to the Post Hospital at Adam’s Run, where I, having obtained permission, nursed him, his illness proved to be Typhoid Fever, with which he lingered until the 5th September when he died. His mother had been written for and arrived a few days before his death; but her loving presence and anxious care, and the kind attentions of his friends could not keep him; peacefully he departed, peaceful and gentle as his nature was, he passed to a better world; almost his last words in his delirium being: “Riecke let us take a walk”, but his next move was to the graveyard at Wilton Church, near the [119] village, to which last resting place he was escorted by some of his late comrades with sad feelings; no muffled drum beat time for the sad cortege, no cannon or musketry rattled over his grave, still he takes a soldier’s rest, he fills a soldier’s honored grave, and though ’twas not on the battlefield he died he surely gave his life for his country; though he had never, as they say, “smelt powder,” or heard the bullets whistle, he was none the less doing a soldier’s duty, for surely “they too serve who only watch and wait”. The thought of my deceased comrade was always a pleasant memory to me, though his stay with me had been but so short; his gentle and kind disposition had endeared him not alone to myself, but to all in camp. And alas! the poor mother, of “whom he was the only son and she a widow”, who had after his interment to return to her home, with one more sad experience in her life. Returning to camp I missed his presence very much, though the vacancy in the tent was filled by the arrival in the latter part of September of [120] my brother John, who having reached the age for military duty, Mother and myself felt best to have with me where I could advise him; having obtained leave for 24 hours I went to the city for him when he had already arrived from Walhalla, after my return to camp with him on the 1st October he was mustered into service. I have had at the time very often to laugh at his idea of military service, the same was too much against his spirit of independence, and had I not been there to advise him he would have often rebelled and as often put on extra duty; he thought it discretionary to answer the calls or not, but he soon learned that “a soldier’s first duty is to obey”.

During September we were visited by several heavy gales of wind and rain which blew down every tent and drove us for shelter under the trees, at the mercy of the pouring rain; these experiences made the men think of some better protection from wind and weather and they went to building log houses or cabins, so that not long after there arose to the view buildings of all shapes or sizes, according [121] to the fancy, skill or patience of the projectors, but none of which would conform to the rules of architecture; but being somewhat more watertight, and having as a great convenience for the winter in a fireplace with a chimney of clay, all else was secondary.

During this time our duties were rather heavy as we were doing threefold duty, of artillery, cavalry and infantry, as the former we drilled and did camp duty, as cavalry we did picket duty on the Stono river and as infantry, of which we had none left around us, we did the provost duty in the village; while on picket we have had many a disagreeable position to occupy: one station was on a rice dam many hundred feet from the firm land, this bank was cut off from the main by a chasm of about 15 or twenty feet wide where a flood gate had been washed away, and over which a single plank had been thrown as a rude bridge, which would sway like a juggling board when any one crossed it, while ten or twelve feet below the tide flowed in a fierce torrent; this we had to cross at all hours of the day and [122] night, during the latter we had more to feel than to see our way as dark as it was; often too this plank was covered with sleet and ice making the crossing of it a precarious undertaking, so much so that on one occasion I have seen one of our men, who no doubt would have faced a rain of bullets in front of the enemy, get on his knees to creep over, this was our only way of communication with the rear. Our object being to watch the movements of the enemy on Jehossee Island opposite, which they occupied, (the property of Gov. Wm. Aiken) and as we were to see but not let ourselves be seen we were allowed but a very small fire and as it was mid-winter and we had no shelter it was a very exposed position, and the thought of our comfortable cabins came over us with a longing for the same. On these picket jaunts we were only allowed to use the worst horses of the battery, the “extra” or those of the Battery Wagon or Forge, these horses would have done honor to Falstaff’s ragged army; they were mostly possessed with one or more of the many faults that horseflesh is subject to as, stumbling, [123] shying &c. and were not near as sleek and fat as the seven cows of Potiphor’s dream, so that when a picket were about going out from camp there could often be heard remarks as: “You had better insure your life before you go”, or “don’t run away with that poor horse”, or again, “where did you get that skeleton that you have had covered,” generally making merriment of the horse at the rider’s expense. On one occasion I came near taking a plunge over my horse’s head by his stumbling, falling suddenly on his knees, had I not been aware of his fault and on my guard; at another time later I injured myself by bouncing against the pommel of my saddle.

On the 8^th December 1864 I received a letter from Mr. J. H. Bruning announcing his approaching marriage to my cousin Eliza, and asking me to act as groomsman on the occasion, at the same time asking John to be present too. I wrote him in return that we accepted his invitation, and that if possible we would attend, also that I would act as he requested.

On the 12^th Dec. the detachments of [124] the two rifles were ordered to hold themselves in readiness for immediate service with blankets and six days rations, in the afternoon we were marched to the depot to await the arrival of a train from the city with troops on which we were also to embark. After exhausting our patience waiting and being nearly frozen by the intense cold, the train made its appearance about midnight when after putting our guns and horses aboard we got on ourselves, being assigned to two box cars in which we were stored almost like sardines on the floor of the cars, these bore yet the tokens of their former use by the very strong and unpleasant smell of cattle, but the weather being so intensely cold, our thoughts were mostly how to keep warm so that we paid little attention to the prevailing odor. Long yet after we had got on board the train remained at the depot, and soon it was reported that we were to await orders there as the train had left without them, as it was to be a secret expedition; at last, long after morning had dawned, we made a start when we soon learned that our destination [125] was Pocotaligo;

Pocotaligo 12^th Dec 64

the enemy having taken a position at Tullifinny, near there, where they could command the railroad thereby cutting off our communication with Savannah, and as it was necessary to keep that road open for the retreat of our forces from that city which was besieged by Gen. Sherman, our expedition had been planned to drive them from their entrenched position. Having arrived at our destination, where I met my friends, William Knobeloch and William Stender, we were marched to Fort Walker, Old Pocotaligo, Where we found the Palmetto Guard with their siege guns, the place was the site of a former skirmish, the trees and houses in the neighborhood still bearing the marks of the shells and musket balls while in the fields could be seen the bones of some of the enemy’s dead. Here we were kept awaiting the opportunity to attack the enemy, but it seemed as if that opportunity had never offered, our troops were constantly moving from one place to another but it had led to no definite result. Thus, in momentary expectation of a battle, time [126] passed; the 15^th, the day on which my cousin was to be married, meanwhile having come, and though I had promised (and longed) to be present, and to act my part as groomsman, could I now, on perhaps the eve of a battle, leave my post of duty to engage in the festivity? No! Duty before pleasure was my determination so I concluded not to ask for leave but to send my congratulations and best wishes through William Stender who was also to act as groomsman, and who had already procured leave and was going, with him I also sent my excuse and regrets for not being able to attend. The hour of the ceremony arrived and passed and though I was not there in person all the Articles of War could not prevent my thoughts from being with my cousin at that to her important hour. Alas! of this, one of my favorite cousins I have had too but little enjoyment since my return to our home, death, the insatiable, too soon took her from her home and loved ones to fill an early grave, while all around would almost murmur at the stern decree “that the good should die so [127] young”; Dear Eliza, here let me pen a thought too to thy memory; you are too closely interwoven with my recollections of the late struggle for me to let pass this opportunity without acknowledging your encouraging words and smiles during those troublous times; and your kindness and sympathy when on my visits to the city, your home became for a while my own; with your kind attentions too when almost wan and worn from sickness I came there. You need not a mortal’s thanks in your home above, but that mortal with a grateful heart will ever cherish thy memory.

The expedition, contemplated, having failed, the troops, with the exception of our section were withdrawn, we remained at Fort Walker until the 21^st, having in the meantime constructed shelters of pine branches to protect us from the heavy fogs, when we received orders to go to Pocotaligo, there we passed the night in the old camp of the German Volunteers and next day in conjunction with the Palmetto Guard, Beaufort Artillery and German Volunteers boarded the train waiting at the depot for us; when about ready to [128] leave orders came to take off our horses again, and hitch them to a couple of new Napoleon guns just arrived for the German Volunteers and return to from where we came, the Volunteers meanwhile going with our Parrotts, as the enemy were advancing from Mackey’s Point; under cover of the Citadel Cadets we went forward to meet them, about 5 miles from Fort Walker we got our guns into position in an old battery and prepared to give them a warm reception. We waited nearly the whole of a bitter cold day for our expected visitors, but they failed to come, so about dark we returned to the depot, put the horses and guns aboard the train, and were soon on our way to Green Pond; arriving there we found our Parrotts awaiting us at the depot where the German Volunteers had put them off the train; having taken our horses off we camped for the night at the depot. Next morning we hitched the horses to our guns and proceeded to Chisolmville to which place we had been ordered, and near which we camped, and where we had nothing to do but to protect ourselves from the weather, the same being very inclement; [129] having brought no tents along we were compelled to do the best we could, and which we did by standing clapboards (a long shingle) slanting against each other, like a child’s card house, and then throwing earth against them, thus forming a small hut similar to an A tent, but only large enough for two men to stretch out in, and into and out of which we had to creep on all fours. Christmas eve was ushered in with rain, and during the next day and night it rained constantly and our boasted shelters proved useless, we were in a most awful plight from the soft mud that dripped on us from all sides through the crevices of the clapboards, while through large holes washed in our shelters we could have seen the moon and stars had they only condescended to look down on us in our sad plight, which certainly would have been more acceptable to us. As it was, the camp was soon astir, and taking it “chicken fashion” under the trees, rather than lying in a bed of soft mud. and being sprinkled with the same soft substance from above, as we were in our huts; laughable it was to see men, one after another, come out of these huts, like [130] rats from their holes. Our camp presented a picture similar to those of the settlements of the prairie dogs. Under those unpleasant circumstances we spent our Christmas, and we were anxious to return to our comfortable quarters and were therefore very much gratified by the reception of orders on the 29^th to return to Adam’s Run, which we did by train from Green Pond. Arrived there we resumed the somewhat onerous duties as before.

In the first part of February a detail of 12 men was made to man 2 guns that had been placed in position in an earthwork at Little Britain on the Stono river, about 6 or 7 miles from camp; on the 8^th another was made to relieve the first, and although I had just the day before returned from picket duty and was suffering from injuries received by the stumbling of the horse I rode, I was chosen as one of them, on the plea that no others were there to go, no excuse would be taken, and as I always rather gave way than make much ado about it I was soon on the road with the others. The next morning, though a cold and cheerless one, the men, with the exception [131] of myself as I was suffering no little pain, were in a very good humor and when about 1 o’clock it was reported that two gunboats were coming up the river they became much more so; one in particular was in a lively mood that morning, and little dreamt the sad fate that awaited him before the close of the day; the one alluded to was Sergeant Charles D. Whale, commanding the guns on which I was; being, as remarked before, a very cold day he had put a fancy carriage blanket over his head, and bade me tie his handkerchief around it at his neck to keep it in place; I did so little thinking it would be the last service required of anyone.

Engagement with Pawnee, Little Britain. Sargt Whale killed. Feby 12/65

As the largest boat came, which we afterwards learned to be the “famous” Pawnee, came up we opened on her, the other gun soon following our example, but we did not have to wait long for a return of the complement by her, for she soon showed us what metal she had on board as the 9 inch shells were soon flying thick and fast, over our heads; we saw then that we had got into a hornet’s nest, for although we kept up [132] our fire as long as we had ammunition left we could judge that we were making little or no impression upon her owing to the imperfect ammunition we had, being 12 Pdr Howitzer ammunition while we had an 18 Pounder James gun, the same might have done for small gunboats, but not to attack frigates with that had the advantage with their long range guns. Not very long after opening on her one of the shells from the vessel entered the embrasure of the gun on which I served taking off the top of the head of our above-mentioned Sergeant, who was just about to sight the gun saying: “Now, boys we will give it to her”; he fell backwards and was, without moving a feature or muscle, dead, his brains scattering all around and upon us; the shell passing on and ploughing the field behind us where it finally exploded. One moment we, stupefied by the suddenness of our comrade’s death, death, stood still, and then resumed our duties intending, if possible, to avenge him; but, alas! after firing 100 rounds our ammunition was exhausted, and almost simultaneously the order was heard “Cease firing!”, General [133] Robertson, who had succeeded Gen. Hargood, the latter being ordered to Virginia, having at last found out I suppose that our firing had no effect upon her. Now we had nothing more to do than to crouch down behind the breastwork, and taking it coolly, if such is possible under the circumstances; the shells flew as fast as ever often almost covering us up with the sand from the battery as they lodged themselves in it, while the shrapnel buried themselves in all directions around and about us; add to this the sight of our comrade lying there before us in his gore, and anyone can judge that we had enough to keep our blood at fever heat in spite of the cold. During the whole time I had suffered from my complaint, the same being increased by the constant motion at the gun, so that towards the last of our firing I had to allow some one to take my place. The Pawnee kept up her firing until about dark when she gave some parting shots at King’s house on the river, and went out again.

During the latter part of the action when I had time left to think, my thoughts were often [134] of my brother who I knew would be present with our company, and I felt some concern for his safety, but was soon relieved by learning that besides our Sergeant but one man had been killed or hurt, he Mr. Hermann Fagen of the German Artillery who had one section in the fight. During the engagement we could not help noticing the intrepidity of the officer commanding our battery, Lieut. Monsees of the German Artillery, who would often, under the fire of the enemy, mount the breastworks to see what effect our shots had.* Often after as I thought of that engagement a cold shudder crept over me, death stared us in the face, which as long as the excitement of our return fire lasted was not thought of, but when we were compelled to lie quietly behind the battery with the shells flying fast and furious over our heads, the grim spectre appeared to our thoughts and we wondered who would be its next prey. That it did not prove more disastrous to us was a wonder, as, when I looked over the parapet after the engagement, the shells were lying as thick in front of [135] the battery almost as if they had been thrown like a barrel of apples about there, while others were lying upon the parapet, so near our last position, that it seemed as if the mere force of the wind was enough to bring them down upon us; while upon the battery or breastwork itself they had done more harm, parts of it, being composed of sand, having been completely ploughed away; others had sent the sand like a huge wave into the air, and about us, as the plunged into its depths; the fields in our rear were also covered by pieces of, and whole, shells.