J. C. Roebuck.

W. A. Roll.

J. W. Rigsby.

S. H. Sheppard.

L. W. Shed.

L. W. Stroud.

Fred W. Stoy.

Jno. W. Stoy.

Alonzo Smith.

Miles Turpin.

Thomas J. Tutt.

J. E. Thomas.

Geo. J. Verdery.

R. W. Verdery.

G. F. Wing.

B. H. Watkins.

C. D. Wakins.

Jas. E. Wilson.

Jas. D. Wilson.

Walter A. Wiley.

Wm. T. Williams.

W. T. Winn.

Wm. Whiting.

CHAPTER III.

REORGANIZATION WITH 12th GA. BATTALION.

On May 1, 1862, the Oglethorpes were re-organized at Camp Jackson, on the Carnes Road, near Augusta, Ga., as an artillery company under Capt.

J. V. H. Allen. Three other companies from the 1st Ga. Regiment, and the "DeKalb Rifles" from Stone Mountain, joined us and the 12th Ga.

Battalion was formed, with Major Henry D. Capers as commander. We remained at this camp drilling for two months, and our parade ground became a favorite afternoon resort for the young ladies of Augusta.

A "LITTLE LONG."

Among the fair visitors, who honored us by their presence, were the Misses Long, two pretty and attractive girls, who were guests at the Savage Place, near our quarters. Miles Turpin, one of the company wits, fell a victim to the charms of the younger one, who in physical make-up was rather pet.i.te. When his attack had reached the acute stage, he was being joked about it one day and gave vent to his feelings in the following revised version of Goldsmith's familiar lines:

I want but little here below, But want "that little Long."

Miles was not the only wit in the Company. Every branch in Phil Schley's family tree must have shed puns as an ordinary tree sheds leaves when touched by the breath of winter. Lon Fleming was crossing the grounds at Camp Jackson one day with a chair slung over his left shoulder, when he was hailed by Phil. "Lon, you are most cheerful man I've seen today."

"Yes," said Lon, "over the left." Lest some of my readers may fail to see the point, it may be prudent to say that when Phil and I were boys, "chair" in the piney woods was p.r.o.nounced "cheer." This was not one of Phil's best nor, perhaps, one of his worst. It would probably grade about "strict low middling." Aside from this hereditary punning propensity, from which my old comrade has reasonably recovered, I am glad to recall his unfailing good humor and his readiness to meet the dangers and hardships of the service bravely and without a murmur.

THE 12th GA. BATTALION FLAG.

On July 4th, '62, Miss Pinkie Evans, of Augusta, presented to the battalion a beautiful silk battle flag made, it was said, from her mother's wedding robe. Her patriotic address in making the presentation was responded to by Maj. Capers, who accepted the colors for the battalion.

As the Oglethorpes were transferred from the battalion in the fall of 1862, we had no opportunity of fighting under their banner save at the skirmish at Huntsville, Tennessee. It was afterwards bravely borne on many a b.l.o.o.d.y battlefield, under Evans and Gordon in Maryland and Virginia. Seven color-bearers were shot down under its silken folds.

During the second heavy bombardment of Fort Sumter, lasting from Oct. 26 to Dec. 6, 1863, the 12th Ga. Battalion formed a part of its garrison.

On Oct. 31st the flag of the fort was shot down and was replaced by Serg. Graham, Will Hitt and Bob Swain, of Augusta, then serving with the 12th Ga. Batt. It was shot down again on the same day and its staff so badly shattered that it could not be hoisted. The same brave men went up on the parapet, amid the storm of solid shot and sh.e.l.l and raised their own 12th Ga. flag. When the Confederate line was broken at Cedar Creek, Serg. Hopps of Crump's company, bore this flag, and disdaining to fly, he held his ground alone, waving his colors defiantly at the advancing line of blue until he was killed. Afred Wallen, of the same company, a beardless boy, but a brave one, saw him fall and running back at the risk of his own life, tore the flag from its staff and brought it in safety to his command. It is said these colors were not surrendered at Appomatox, but were returned to their fair donor unstained save by the blood of the gallant Baker and King and Stallings and Hopps, who in the shock of battle had gone down to death under their silken folds.

OFF TO THE FRONT

Buell was threatening Chattanooga, and Maj. Capers was ordered to report with his battalion to Gen. McCown at that point. Leaving Augusta July 5th in two special trains, we were detained at Ringgold, Ga., for a day or two by a collision with a freight train, which resulted in the death of ten or twelve men and fifteen or twenty horses, and in injuries more or less serious to a larger number. Reaching Chattanooga July 8, we remained there ten days and were then transferred by N. & C. R. R. to a point near Sh.e.l.l Mound, Ala. Picketing here for two weeks in front of Buell's army we returned to Chattanooga Aug. 1, and on the next day left for Knoxville with the intention, I suppose, of accompanying Kirby Smith's army into Kentucky. Two days at Knoxville and we are off for Clinton. En route a courier brings information that the enemy has attacked our forces at Tazewell, twenty miles away, and we are ordered to hurry forward to reinforce Gen. Stevenson at that point. An hour later another dispatch is received that the attack has been repulsed and we are sidetracked at Clinton to aid in the capture or dispersion of the 7th Tenn. Federal regiment, then occupying a fortified camp near Huntsville, Tenn.

COL. HOGELAND AND HIS WAR DIARY.

How strangely human events sometimes shape themselves without apparent effort to control them. Sitting in my home some weeks ago in the dreamy haze of an October Sunday afternoon, there chanced to fall under my eye in the editorial column of a Sunday school paper the statement that Col.

Alexander Hogeland of Louisville, Ky., had visited Nashville, Tenn., in the interest of the "Curfew Law." Other items in the column caused a momentary disturbance of my brain cells, then pa.s.sed away to be recalled no more. But this one lingered in my memory and would not down, for thereby hangs the following tale:

The expedition against the Federal force at Huntsville was commanded by Col. Gracie, of Alabama, and consisted of the 12th Ga. Battalion, a portion of an Alabama regiment, and a few cavalry. Leaving Clinton at 4 p. m., Aug. 12, we camped near Jacksonboro on the night of the 13th and on the morning of the 14th started for Huntsville by a rough mountain path that crossed a spur of the c.u.mberland range. After a toilsome tramp we halted at 9 p. m. and after an hour's rest were again on the march.

The path is narrow and the overarching trees shut out every ray of starlight. Groping along in the dark we follow the tramp of the feet in front, reaching out occasionally to touch the file just ahead, lest our ears have deceived us. Our pathway pa.s.ses on the edge of a precipitous bluff and my brother in Crump's company loses his footing and topples over it. The fall fails to disable him, but he loses his hat and in the darkness is unable to recover it. Hatless he rejoins the command and the procession moves on. Just before daylight we halt for another rest.

At 5 a. m. we resume the march and in the early morning reach the vicinity of the Federal camp. Deploying into line of battle we advance through a belt of woodland and entering a cornfield beyond, our right is fired upon by the Federal pickets. As we drive them in a scattering fire is kept up until we come in sight of their camp and near it a rude log fort built upon the crest of a tall hill, over whose precipitous slope the forest trees have been felled, making an almost impa.s.sable abattis.

While arrangements are being made for an attack upon the fort, Tom Tutt and the writer, who are both on the color guard, see a thin line four or five hundred yards to our right, near a church, and whom we take to be the pickets, who had been resisting our advance. Tom, whose rule is to shoot at everything in sight, selects his man and fires and the writer follows suit. We load and fire again. After a few rounds I become convinced that it is a portion of Capt. Crump's company, which had been detached and sent to the right and in which I have two brothers. As Tom raises his gun again I said, "Hold on, Tom, you are shooting at your own company." He made no reply and continued firing until the order to advance was given. A deep gully lay partially in our front and as its pa.s.sage caused some confusion in the ranks, we halted to reform the line. Crump's company was hurrying forward to join us and before they had reached their position in line Col. Gracie gave the command, "Charge." From underneath the head logs of the fort the Belgian rifles were barking at us and the heavy b.a.l.l.s they carried whistled by us like young sh.e.l.ls. We were waiting for Crump, and Gracie, ignorant of the cause of the delay, shouted: "What is the matter with the 12th Ga.

Battalion?" Just then a lone cavalryman pa.s.sed the line on foot and with drawn sabre made his way towards the fort with the evident intention of capturing the whole business himself. Crump's company came up at a "double quick" and the whole line moved forward with a yell. Sergeant Harwell, our color-bearer, had never been under fire and the boys, uncertain as to his grit, had asked Tom Tutt, who did not know what fear meant, to take the colors when the charge began. Tom made the effort to seize them, but Harwell, a tall, gaunt man, and brother of two honored Methodist preachers, declined to give them up and bore them forward bravely. As we advanced the fire from the fort suddenly ceased and we thought they were waiting to see the whites of our eyes. Reaching the steep ascent we climbed up over logs and brush until the fort was gained. Lieut. Joe Taliaferro, of Augusta, was the first to enter, and with his sword cut down the floating flag. The fort was empty--not a Yankee to be seen. Under cover of the thick forest growth in their rear they had hid to other haunts, under the idea, perhaps, that

"He who fights and runs away, Will live to fight another day."

Their camp, located just below the fort gave ample evidence of their hasty exit. Our attack was something of a "surprise party" and their unfinished morning meal was boiling, baking and frying on the camp fires. We were unexpected and uninvited guests and yet our reception was warm, although unfriendly. Our all-night tramp enabled us to do full justice to the breakfast they had prepared, as well as the sugar cured hams and other supplies their commissary had kindly left for our use. We appropriated an ample outfit of blankets, canteens, haversacks, etc., and burned what we could not carry away.

The skirmish on our side, and probably on theirs was almost bloodless.

W. W. Bussey, of the Oglethorpes, and Garyhan, of Crump's company, were slightly wounded. I recall no other casualty except the killing of a nice horse ridden by Col. Gracie.

And now what has all this to do with the item I read in a Sunday school paper? Simply this: Among the a.s.sets and effects secured that day by the writer from the officer's tent and administered upon without "Letter's Testamentary" was a pocket diary belonging to Capt. Alexander Hogeland, of the 10th Indiana Regt. On reading the paragraph referred to, the coincidence in names suggested the possibility that Col. Alexander Hogeland, of Louisville, Ky., "Father of the Curfew," might have been Capt. Alexander Hogeland, of the 10th Ind. Regt., whose property had been in my possession for thirty-seven years. To test the matter, I wrote Col. Hogeland and from his reply the following extract is taken: "Your deeply interesting favor of the 4th inst received and for the information it contains accept my hearty thanks. I am the identical person referred to in your letter. Was first lieutenant Co. D, 10th Indiana Regiment in the West Virginia campaign and afterwards Captain of Co. G. In May, '62, was made lieutenant-colonel of 7th East Tennessee Regiment, commanded by Col. Wm. Cliff, and stationed at Huntsville, Tenn., in August, '62. We lost everything on the occasion you refer to and this is the first information I have received as to the whereabouts of my effects. I am very glad to avail myself of your proffer to return my diary and enclose herewith necessary postage." Col. Hogeland's diary was duly returned to him and in acknowledging its receipt he took occasion to thank me for looking him up after all these years and a.s.sured me that he would endeavor to return that kindness by visiting Augusta in the early future and giving the citizens of this goodly city the benefit of the "Curfew Law." It will furnish additional evidence of the truthfulness of the opening statement in this sketch if the capture of a war diary nearly forty years ago, should result in the adoption of a "Curfew" ordinance in Augusta.

In ill.u.s.tration of the adage that "Every dog has his day," it may not be amiss to say that Col. Hogeland's escapade from Fort Cliff at the instance of four companies of the old First Georgia Regiment, was only partial compensation for the 100-mile run made by those self-same companies from Laurel Hill, Va., in '61, with Capt. Hogeland's regiment as one of the exciting causes.

JACKSBORO.

On our return from Huntsville, Joe Derry and J. W. Lindsay, of the Oglethorpes, unable to keep pace with the command, straggled and were captured by "bush-whackers." Joe was exchanged a few days, later, Lindsay preferring to remain a prisoner. After a short stay at Clinton we moved up to Jacksboro and remained there until Oct. 9th, guarding Bragg's line of communications. Our service at this place was uneventful. Buell's army had retreated into Kentucky and there was nothing to disturb our "otium c.u.m dignitate" save a moderate amount of picket duty and the one subject ever uppermost in the soldier's mind--"rations." The following incidents of our stay at this camp furnish some ill.u.s.trations of this fact:

THE PARSON AND THE GRAVY.

A continuous diet of salt bacon had made the boys ravenous for fresh meat and as war has no tendency to strengthen respect for property rights where a soldier's appet.i.te is involved, they were not, as a rule, very scrupulous as to the methods adopted to procure a supply. The means most in use at the date referred to were known in camp parlance as "flip ups." As no encyclopedia of my acquaintance describes this mechanical contrivance and its specifications have never enc.u.mbered the records of the patent office, it may not be amiss to say that it consisted of a bent sapling, a slip noose with a trigger attachment and a bait of corn.

The unsuspecting porker, tempted by the bait, sprang the trigger and the sapling freed from its confinement, sought to resume its normal position, while the shote caught in the noose and partially suspended in the air gave noisy notice that the game was up.

On one occasion the catch, by right of discovery or otherwise, fell to a mess, of which Parson H----, a minister of the Presbyterian persuasion, was a member. When dinner was served that day a dish of smoking pork chops was pa.s.sed to the Parson, but he declined with the remark that his conscience did not allow him to eat stolen meat. As the meal progressed the fragrant odor from the dish struck his olfactories with increasingly tempting force and he finally pa.s.sed up his tin plate and said: "I'll take a little of the gravy if you please." He had made a brave fight for principle and his final compromise was probably due to the fact that Paul's vow, "If meat make my brother to offend I will eat no flesh while the world standth," failed to include gravy in its inhibition. He may have been further influenced by the reflection that his refusal to indulge could not possibly restore the porker to life again. As Jim Wilson said,

"'Twas Greece (grease), but living Greece no more."

This incident recalls the fact that Jim and the writer had on this subject the same scruples as the Parson, and in order to place ourselves on the line of strongest resistance we entered into an agreement with each other binding ourselves to total abstinence from all meat of questionable origin until mutually released from the obligation. The compact was religiously observed until Hood's campaign in Tennessee in the winter of '64. Transportation was scarce and rations were scarcer.

On one occasion two ears of corn were issued to each soldier. Some wag in the company, probably Elmore Dunbar, seeing that horse rations were being furnished sang out, "come and get your fodder." On another occasion beef was issued but no bread. We had neither lard to fry nor salt to season, but our digestive apparatus was not then fastidious as to condiments. It was unimportant whether it was taken "c.u.m grano salis"