Part 3

On Dec. 28th Capt. Lumsden started for Richmond, Va., sick, taking Corporal Sheperd with him. Lt. Cribbs was left in charge of the reserve artillery, and Lt. Ed Tarrant in command of the Battery.

On Dec. 30th the rifle section was ordered to report to Gen. Breckenridge on the extreme right of the army, facing the enemy on Stone River north of Murfreesboro. The other section was in position in yard of Mr. Spence's negro quarters but was moved nearer to the enemy later in the afternoon where it remained all next day, the 31st of Dec., 1862.

Murfreesboro

Dec. 31, 1862, most of the fighting was on the left wing when our forces drove the Federals back several miles.

The battery was first stationed on the right, near a vacated house on a hill. Here we found a barrel partly full of seconds unbolted wheat flour and a skillet and we made up some biscuit and after the first batch was cooked, the order came to move and we wrapped up the dough in a cloth and that night after crossing Stone River and throwing up some breastworks we cooked the balance on the shovels we had used for ditching.

The battery was in an open field, in front of a large brick house on a high hill where Rosecrang had massed his batteries after his right had been driven back to a right angle with its first position. This was a pivotal position and the point where the General is said to have remarked after his first day's disaster, "Bragg is a good dog, but Holdfast is better." Breckenridge made an attack on this position and as he rode into the fight, I thought him the finest looking man I had ever seen on horseback. But the position was too strong to be taken, although Bragg was in person on the field not far from us. That night at mid-night, the order came to hitch up and leave. One of the drivers reported that the horses hitched to the pole of one of the caissons, had eaten off about three feet of the seasoned oak pole. I told him to tie an extra pole under the one gnawed to a point with the halters from the horses and we marched off in retreat. The horses were almost starved as well as the men. After going a little way on the pike, the column halted and the men marched by barefooted some of them on the frozen pike, while we built up a fire and Sergt. Hargrove, standing in front of it, had half the tail of his overcoat burned off before the warmth reached his skin.

Marching all night, we met Dr. Leland next morning, muddy as if he had been on a fox hunt in "Bear Heaven" and Jim Craddock, a noted dude, with his coat neatly buttoned and his collar clean. He was said to sleep lying on his back in a tent with ten or a dozen men, and never turned or moved lest he should disorder his clothing. But he was a brave soldier. Lt. Cribbs had his horse killed and several from the battery were lost here, the breastworks were nothing but rail piles from an old fence.

For three days after the two armies faced each other and on the night of Jan. 3, 1863, Bragg's army retreated.

On Jan. 4th Confederate scouts went six miles north of Murfreesboro beyond the battle field but found no enemy. Both armies had retreated. In the evening of the 4th Federals began to advance, slowly feeling their way. Corporal James T. Searcy remained a prisoner at Murfreesboro to attend to wants of his brother Reuben, fatally wounded and left in hospital. He was exchanged at City Point near Petersburg, Va., April 12, 1863, and reached the battery at Estelle Springs, Tenn., on April 20th.

The reserve artillery encamped here until spring under Major Felix H. Robertson. He kept all hands busy from early morn till dewy eve, policing camp when not engaged in drill. Evidently he believed that "Satin finds some mischief still for idle hands to do." Friends and acquaintances from Tuscaloosa were on hand often during spring and boxes of supplies had been frequent arrivals.

May 14, 1863, on Thursday night orders came for 2 day's rations to be cooked up and to be ready to move by 6:00 a.m. Friday.

We moved out through Tullahoma and Roseland and camped four miles from Shelbyville and ordered to clear ground for our pack of artillery. Remained till June 5th, ordered to report to Gen. Clayton's Brigade. Two days march in mud and rain toward Murfreesboro, was the sum total of our service with him for on Saturday night, June 6th, we were back with the Reserve Artillery again. Some of our men were great hunters and when Shuttlesworth caught an old coon with her litter of young ones, he gave a feast to his friends. Lt. Tarrant resigned, returned to Tuscaloosa and raised another Artillery company of which he became captain and Sette Shepherd as Lieutenant and Wm. Tarrant also.

On June 26th Battery marched to Tullahoma and was unlimbered in battery as if for a fight with 2nd section in a fort but on Tuesday, the 30th, took line of march for the Cumberland mountains through rain and mud through Alezonia to Decherd where guns and ammunition boxes were put on train wagons and carriages marched toward Sewanee or the University of the South. On July 5th, crossed Tennessee river on pontoon bridge after a weary march over hills and mountains through mud and rain. July 7th, Tuesday, Corp. Searcy was appointed Sergeant Major of Battalion thus removing him from the company.

Lt. Cribbs returned from Tuscaloosa on Friday night, July 10th, with a lot of supplies for the company, which he found at the foot of Lookout mountain near Chattanooga, we remained till Sept. 10th, and then were assigned to Breckenridge's Division for a week just arrived from Mississippi minus artillery. On Sept. 16th, again with Reserve near Lafayette. The two armies were on the move, maneuvering for position, culminated in battle of Chickamauga, Sept. 20, 1863.

The whole army itching for a fight, while encamped at Tullahoma an examining board had been appointed for Artillery officers for service in the Ordnance Department consisting of Col. Wm. Leroy Brown of the Richmond Arsenal; Col. H. Oladowski, Chief of Ordnance of Bragg's army and Lt. Col. James H. Kennard, Chief of Ordnance Officer Hardee's Corps. Orderly Sergeant Little went before this Board on Wednesday for the Lieutenant's examination and on Friday for that of Captain and having made the highest average in either the army of Tennessee or that of Virginia was ordered to report for duty at the C. S. Central Laboratory at Macon, Ga., to Lt. Col. John William Mallett, Superintendent of Laboratories. He remained there until he knew the battle was imminent at Chickamauga and applied for and secured a four day's leave of absence to join Lumsden's Battery, which he learned at Gen. Bragg's headquarters was some twenty miles distance at Lafayette. Col. Hallonquist was then Chief of Artillery and offered him the command of Gaskin's Battery from Brookhaven, Mississippi, whose Captain was absent on sick leave. With the consent of the Lieutenants, he accepted this proposition and took charge of this Battery during the battle of Chickamauga under Major Gen. W. H. Walker who was killed at Atlanta on duty and was assigned to Gen. Bragg's staff as assistant to the chief of Ordnance and afterwards served as Ordnance Officer of Clayton's Brigade, then of the Division of Cleburne, Bate, Brown Chetham, and of the corps of D. H. Hill, Breckenridge and Hardee and after a temporary command of the University of Alabama section of artillery during Wilson's raid into Alabama, closed his service with Gen. Howell Cobb at Macon, Ga., having been in meantime assigned to duty as Chief of Ordnance Officer as Lt. Col. of Artillery, of Hardee's Corps army of Tennessee. During the battle of Chickamauga Lumsden had one private--Screniver--killed, several wounded, one gun dismounted and temporarily captured. Several men captured, among them Chas. Jerome Fiquet, Jr. The gun was recovered next day, but was replaced by a better one captured from the enemy, with which Sept. 25th they kept up a slow fire on the enemy's breastworks at Chattanooga.

The battery was soon withdrawn from the besieging lines and joined the camp of Robertson's Battalion at the foot of Lookout mountain, reporting to Gen. Longstreet. Here about Oct. 15, 1863, the battery received a recruit in the person of James R. Maxwell. He had since April 1, 1862, been serving as a cadet from University of Alabama Corps drill master with the 34th Alabama Regiment of Infantry, Col. J. C. B. Mitchell but on the rolls of company C. of said Regiment as a private. He obtained a transfer and reported for duty to Capt. Lumsden at this place. Prior to this date these reminiscences have been written up from a diary kept by Sergeant Major James T. Searcy, up to July 24, 1863, date of last entry, finishing up the Tullahoma campaign of the spring of 1863 and from a few of Mr. Searcy's letters home thereafter. The succeeding pages, covering the services and camp incidents of the command are written entirely from memory by the author. Dates verified as far as possible from official records. On being transferred to this command, I had with me a negro body servant named Jim Bobbett, taken from my father's plantation, whence he left a wife, but no children. He was allowed to come at his own request, and had been with me from the time I entered service as drill master of the 34th Alabama. There were perhaps a dozen or more servants connected with the Battery, some belonging to commissioned officers, others to privates, all subject to their master's orders, but of course subject to control by the officers of the company also. Without any legislation or orders of army commanders, such servants were part and parcel of the commands to which their owners belonged, and cheerfully did their part in connection with the commissaries of their commands, being utilized largely as company cooks. For such service they were welcomed by the commisary department and got their share of the rations, but I do not think they were ever enrolled, as a matter of record. Their masters wanted them, and the hardships of a soldier's life were very much ameliorated by them. As a rule they were liked by all, and were glad to assist any and all soldiers for small rewards and even for personal thanks. They were great foragers, for their masters first, and next for their own and their master's friends. The officers at this time where Capt. Chas. L. Lumsden and Second Lt. A. C. Hargrove, Lt. H. H. Cribbs was at home sick and soon afterwards resigned. The weather was stormy, rains came in deluges and bridges between camp and Chickamauga station were washed away, cutting off our supplies. Forage getting short, Capt. Lumsden detailed perhaps 20 men to go on horses over into Wills Valley to the west of Lookout mountain. The road to be traveled was the dirt road skirting the base of the cliff about half way up the mountain, above the Tennessee river opposite the Moccasin bend. The Federals had a battery entrenched on Moccasin Point, just across the river. The detail left before day and passed the danger point before it was light enough to be seen. By mid-day sufficient forage of corn and fodder had been obtained. Each horse and mule resembled a perambulating haystack, for it was loaded with two big sacks filled with corn on each side and as many bundles of fodder as could be tied on with ropes.

Sergeant John Little had charge of the squad, containing among others Alex Dearing, Ed King, Rufe Prince, Dave Jones and other names not remembered. It was a sort of picnic. The men bought chicken, butter and butter milk and got the farmers women to cook for them. Dave Jones bought a bee gum of honey and had a time getting out the honey, with all the crowd assisting. Then again it was good for sore eyes to loaf around in a farmer's front yard and his door steps and see his wife and daughters flitting about, and every now and then get to talk to them a little. Calico dresses and sun bonnets perhaps, but they were a treat to the soldiers, who were tired of seeing nothing but men for so long. The detail put off having to pass the front of that battery so long as they could and had their frolic out. But they had to pass that point in daylight, in order to have time to get over the balance of that mountain road, with each animal loaded in the manner it was. There was no way of dodging it. There were rocks and woods and cuts in the road, that would protect on each side, but sight in front of the battery for perhaps forty yards or more on the road was cut out of the precipice, and for that distance it was a "run of the gauntlet." Arriving at the place, the men crowded the cut on the west side of each man on his animal made ready and as his name was called, at perhaps 30 yards interval, he made his rush as fast as he could persuade his animal to go.

The enemy could only take pot shots at one animal and not at a crowd. Those Yankees surely had sport, but they did not get to fire each of their four guns many times before all were past the bald place without the loss of man or animal. They yelled and we yelled back that they could not shoot worth "shucks." They shelled the woods along the route, but our men were out of sight and did not tarry till each reached some cover, when he halted for them to ease up, which they soon did not being able to see anything to shoot at. They had their fun target shooting. Our boys had the fun of dodging. As there were no casualties, it could always be looked back upon, with a sportsman point of view, as one of our funny episodes. A few days thereafter camp was moved over beyond the top of Missionary Ridge, about Oct. 23rd into a woodland location, with plenty of spring and creek water nearby. To soldiers in camp a living spring was a blessing, as it was the only security against contamination and consequent disease.

Supposing the camp might turn out to be winter quarters, a long shelter was built to cover about 100 horses, with troughs made from hollow logs and racks for long forage. The men began to arrange themselves in congenial "messes" and to build pole cabins with fire places of sticks and mud plaster, and "bunks."

At the camp a lot of boxes of provisions and clothing arrived in charge of Mrs. Jane Durrett from Tuscaloosa for different Tuscaloosa boys. This good patriotic lady would leave her home and husband on a Tuscaloosa County farm and take charge of batches of supplies, provisions, clothing, etc., for officers or men. She saw to it, that every box was delivered to the soldier to whom it was sent. No man could have done this work as she did it. Neither the pompous little Lieutenant in charge of a provost guard, nor train guard, nor commanders of posts, nor the General in command of an army had any terrors for her. They were all means to be lent to the service that she was on. In the car, where her boxes went, she went, when she got with them, as far as railroad could carry her goods, her quick Irish wit and flattering tongue would soon get an order from some competent artillery for wagons and drivers and an ambulance for herself, to take her goods to their destination, and she delivered them in person to whomsoever they had been sent, officers or privates. She served one equally as heartily as the other. Of course she had to rough it, and see much hardship and exposure, but she gloried in so serving her country. She had several sons in the army doing their duty also, as became men from such stock. Jim Bobbett, my body servant, Rube, Alex Dearing's man and some of the other company darkies had also been south on the railroad looking out for supplies. Our messenger got a big fat gobbler, we cooked him in a big three legged cast iron wash pot. Mr. Menander Rosser reminds me that Dr. James T. Searcy, (now Superintendent of the Alabama Bryce Hospital for the Insane) was boss of that job, he put in good time for some days previous to the feast in stuffing corn meal dough down that turkey's throat, to make sure of his being good and fat at the proper time. Can you see the picture, Searcy on a log, gobbler between his knees, left forefinger and thumb prying open the gobbler's mouth, while the balance of his left hand kept the neck straight up; right hand rolling up enormous bread pills and forcing them into the gobbler's mouth, and manipulating them down to the craw. Henry Donoho holding the bread pan assisting in rolling the pills. Several others of the mess, much interested in the operation, scattered around. We first parboiled him till nearly tender, with an oven lid covering the pot. Then we filled him with biscuit and hard-tack crumbs and pieces of fat bacon, and cut onions and sage and the chopped gizzard and liver, all mixed; boiling down the water meanwhile to a rich gravy. Then we put the stuffed turkey in again, put on the cast oven lid heaping red hot oak and hickory coals on top and under the pot. If the reader knows something about cooking, it is plain that this gobbler was cooked to a delightful brown, brown all over, with the juice oozing out of his skin. And that turkey was not all of that dinner. Out of the boxes from home came material for mashed potatoes, boiled rice, cowpeas, bread and biscuit and butter, and dried peaches for a big "biled cat" for dessert with butter and brown sugar for sauce. "Biled Cat"! Eat "Biled Cat!" Yes, indeed! Soldiers thought "biled cat" good enough for any body. Its composition was biscuit dough, rolled out into a sheet one-fourth of an inch thick, spread with stewed dried apples or peaches, seasoned with sugar and spice and everything nice, to another half inch in thickness; rolled up into a long roll and then rolled up in a clean towel or flour sack, tied up and dropped into a pot of boiling water and boiled until done. When done the cloth unrolled and the contents cut into sections one-half an inch thick and deluged with "butter and sugar" sauce, it delightfully filled all the spaces and perhaps somewhat distended a Confederate soldier's stomach, who had already enjoyed a real good turkey and fixings dinner. What a change that was from the regular daily diet of corn pone and rancid bacon, boiled with cowpeas containing about three black weevils to the pea. As some declared most of the peas were already seasoned enough without any bacon. At such times soldiers would live lavishly. They knew, "we are here today, where we shall be tomorrow, no one can tell." We enjoyed our good things while we could. When they were gone, we would get back to cornbread and bacon or beef hash or boiled beef as best we could, and very often the transition "was awful sudden." In winter quarters, we might be saving, and make good things last as long as possible but in intervals of a campaign, we would live whilst we could and "take no thought for the morrow."

While on the subject of "grub," who of us does not think of our efficient "boss" cook, Tom Potts? Can not each of us see him now in this camp behind Missionary Ridge. There he sits day and night (except perhaps 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. to 3:00 a.m. when he sleeps) in his split bottom chair, in front of the center pole of his tent. Behind him his wall tent, each side piled up with boxes and barrels and sacks of meal, flour, salt, sugar, bacon, the only man in camp who always has a good tent because it is absolutely a necessity. A tall, slouch-shouldered man, wide brim felt hat, black hair almost to his shoulders, complexion very dark, long black moustache and whiskers and eternally, when awake, a big black meerschaum in his mouth, puffing away. Very quiet, slow soft spon, he occasionally gives some directions about the cooking to the negroes and to the white soldiers detailed to cook. He is nothing of a hustler, but he has directed negroes from his boyhood up and is as efficient a "boss cook" as the army contained without any bluster. Six or eight feet in front of him, a big hickory oak fire, say ten feet long, with glowing coals under the logs, skillets, ovens and pots all occupied in baking bread or boiling beef under the hands of the negro men, who delighted in the work and joke and grin and laugh or jump out and dance part of a jig, whilst another claps his hands and pats knees for the music. Occasionally Potts may quietly say to his negro man, "Jim" I wish you would hand me a cup of water." He keeps his seat, drinks, hands back the cup and goes on smoking. No man in the army has a better colored meerschaum. On the march or while the army was in the trenches, rations are issued, cooked, the bread being baked and the beef boiled, bacon or salt pork is issued raw, the soldiers eating it raw, or boiled on coals, if convenient and the meat not too scant. In permanent camp, the soldiers drew the rations raw or cooked as they preferred almost always each mess preferred to do its own cooking. With us confederates, bread was mostly corn pone, sometimes biscuits, sometimes hard-tack. Cold cornbread or hard-tack crumbled into a tin can and boiled with perhaps a few scraps of meat was "cush" and "cush" tasted good, hot off the coals, after a hard day's march or fighting.

The writers opinion is that the word comes from Louisana where now the Creole French takes his turn of corn to mill and has it ground into what the American calls "grits," but the Frenchman of Lousiana, calls it "cous cous."

At one time the Confederate government experimented with a mixture of cowpea flour and wheat flour, for the making of a nourishing hard tack. Doubtless it was nourishing enough, when there was plenty of time to boil them soft enough to eat, but most men's teeth were not able to grind them. It took a hatchet of ax to break them up and the broken pieces resembled shiny pieces of flint rock. They were not so great a success for the soldier on the march as the inventor expected. Every day some of the officers and men would get permission to go to the top of the Ridge, visiting friends, in different commands, on the lines facing Chattanooga, so we kept in touch with what could be seen and heard of the situation. At the distance, the Yanks could be seen moving about in Chattanooga like ants in a hill and just about as much could be told as to what they were doing, as could be told by a man watching the doings of ants at a distance that will barely allow them to be distinguished.

Soon after our big dinner, Major Robertson ordered Capt. Lumsden and one of the other batteries to be ready to march at dusk, taking only the gun detachment and guns with their carriages, leaving the caissons in camp with their horses and drivers.

These two companies were led during the night by a guide to the Tennessee river at a point a few miles above Chattanooga, with all hands warned not to speak above a whisper and to prevent all noise of movement possible and placed in position, along an open field, on top of bank of river, between midnight and day, with the information that a Federal command was just across the river in camp and only picketing confederate soldiers along our bank. So we lay, waiting for daylight, some sleeping, some chatting in whispers, in as comfortable position as the ground afforded.

Just before daylight orders were passed around to get "into battery", with cannoneers at posts and to load with shells, with fuses cut to 200 yards (point blank range) and when ordered to fire, to continue to load and fire till ordered to cease firing and move away.

Major Robertson sat his horse at a point where he had previously been in daylight, from which he knew he could get the first glimpse of the Yankee camp opposite, when it should be light enough. The other officers all on their horses in their proper positions in each battery, all drivers mounted and cannoneers at post, with guns loaded and primers stuck in the gun vents, lanjords in the hands of No. 4 cannoneer. From across the river the Yankee bugle rang out with the "reveille", call and instantly Major Robertson's voice "Battalion! Ready! Fire!" Eight guns thundered almost as one and continued to fire each about four shots to the minute for possibly six or eight minutes, when a Federal battery replied. Then came Robertson's command, "Limber to the rear! To the right, march! Gallop!" And away we went down the river under the cover of the sheltering woods. A piece of shell took off the arm of one of Lumsden's men, near the shoulder, as we moved away. His name was Ray, a private from somewhere in Georgia. He was attended and brought to camp in the ambulance and sent back to hospital, whether he recovered or not, we are not sure.

It developed that this little expedition was arranged the day before by Bragg's orders, as a sort of reconnaissance, to find out whether or not the Yankees had any artillery at this point, and the opposite side of the river. His order to Robertson was to leave at once if answered by artillery and not to engage in an artillery duel. All along the route of return to camp, the different commands in the trenches wanted to know what all that racket meant up the river. "We never heard guns fire so fast in our lives before." "We thought the ball must be about to open again, etc." By mid-day we were back in our camp again.