 | A history of Caroline county, Virginia |  |
CIVIL WAR STORIES
REMINISCENCES OF JUDGE E. C. MONCURE
"I rode by the side of General Lee from Guiney Station in
Caroline to within a few miles of Spotsylvania Court House.
We were being pressed closely by the enemy, and the soldiers
who had preceded us were almost worn out and were lying by the
roadside resting and sleeping. General Lee rode up to them and
said very gently, "I know you are tired and sleepy, but you do
not want to be taken prisoners. The enemy is advancing on us
and will be along before daybreak, and it is better for you to
move on."
Some of the men were in bad humour and replied, "It is easy
for you to tell us to move on. You are mounted and have all
the rations you want." Then some one recognized General Lee
and whispered "Marse Robert." In an instant every man was
on his feet while there went up a shout, "Yes, Marse Robert,
we will move on and go anywhere you say—even to hell itself."
REMINISCENCES OF A. B. CHANDLER, SR.
On October 1, 1858, having completed my course at the
old-field school, my father sent me to Hanover Academy then
owned by Lewis M. Coleman. Here I spent two sessions and a
half, leaving in 1861 for the army. Mr. Coleman managed the
school until 1859, when he was elected professor of Latin in
the University of Virginia. He was afterwards colonel of artillery
in the C. S. A., and was killed in battle. Mr. Hilary P. Jones
succeeded Mr. Coleman as owner and principal of the Academy,
and so continued until 1861, when the school was disbanded for
the war. Mr. Jones also became Colonel of Artillery and survived
the war. At this school were gathered about eighty young
men from Virginia and all over the South. We had students
from Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana and Texas. These were all
splendid young men, the flower of Southern culture. In the
spring of 1861 the war broke up the school. Grant's army came
through Bowling Green and Caroline in May, 1864. My grandmother
was still living at Woodlawn, and also my father and
mother. The Northern soldier laid waste everything that he
could reach. They filled my grandmother's residence, stole everything
they could carry off, and what they could not carry away
they destroyed. My father was sick and died while his bed-chamber
everything on the place that could be eaten, my grandmother
asked them what she was to live on, and they told her to "eat
grass," and this she had almost to do. On April 2, 1865, I was
taken prisoner at Hatcher's run, south of Petersburg, and spent
ten weeks a prisoner at Point Lookout, Maryland, and released
from there in June. Our rations there were a small piece of raw
cod fish, a half a loaf of bread and a small tin cup full of bean
water slightly seasoned with meat. This was a day's ration.
The water was sweet and very scarce. The prisoners suffered
greatly for want of water. The pumps in the prison enclosure
would give out about 10:00 A. M. and then there was no more
water that day. I have seen prisoners jammed around these
pumps for a hundred yards fighting to get to them for water. I
was more fortunate than the soldiers generally because I met an
old friend named Vinson, a fellow student from Louisiana, at
Hanover Academy. The prisoner camp was laid out in streets,
and the prisoners were divided into companies and a corporal
put in charge of each company. This corporal was a Confederate
soldier, and his duty was, at dinner time, to collect and march
his company to the dining room to get their bean water, and for
this service he was given a paddle which entitled him to get his
water at the commissary pump. Vinson, being a friend of mine,
invited me to come to his tent whenever I wanted water, and I
availed myself of this privilege and thus never suffered for water.
The prison consisted of many acres enclosed by a high plank fence
with a parapet on which negro soldiers walked guarding the
prisoners, and if you happened to step beyond the dead line you
were shot down.
REMINISCENCES OF T. B. WYATT
The section of the country from the Wilderness, Fredericksburg,
Guines Station, Louisa, etc., was famous for Yankee
scouting and some big battles. The roads and land were generally
level and the roads composed of sand mixed with clay. Many
wattle fences were to be seen in this neighborhood. These fences
were made with split cedar stakes driven down about two feet
apart and cedar brush wattled in, which made a tight and almost
impregnable fence. These fences were renewed annually with
new cedar brush. The roads were built with reference to saving
distance, but necessarily there were a good many angles.
One evening in early spring, 1863 I heard that the Yankees
were in our section. I started on a voyage of discovery down the
Needwood Road by the Hunters, Vaughan, Grubbs, Peatross,
Moores, Hurts, Seays, Concord Church, Needwood, Bowers Store
and Bethel Church. Then I came into the main road from Mangohick
to Hanover Court House, and there I saw a Yankee cavalry-man
going toward Hanover Court House at full speed. I
could have captured him with his fine horse and accoutrements.
I went back to Taliaferro Hunter's and, firing him with zeal
and enthusiasm at my lost opportunity, he decided to go back
with me and try his luck the next morning. Early the next day
I fixed up my Sharpe's carbine or army gun, from which, owing
to an explosion, eight or ten inches had been taken off. After
pocketing half a dozen home made cartridges of brown paper and
G. D. caps, Hunter and I started out looking for the Yankees and
hoping that we might find a straggler and take him in. We
had not ridden very far before people along the road stopped us,
asked us what we meant by facing in battle array a Yankee
army, and begged us to go back home.
When we had gotten six miles from home, three hundred
yards from Dr. R. T. Wortham's home, "The Grove," we had
come to the end of these wattle fence angles (not "the bloody
angle.") At the front end, within fifty yards of us, were four
Yankees moving in a slow, quiet walk. On account of the wattle
fence we were unable to escape and hastily I threw the old carbine
over the fence, hoping it would escape notice. However, one of
the sharp-eyed Yanks saw it going over and immediately went
after it, while the other three took possession of us and our
horses. They laughed heartily upon seeing my old dilapidated
weapon and its crude worn out condition when compared with
fine arms of the Yanks. When we reached Dr. Wortham's
house, the ladies were sitting on the piazza, and on approaching
I hollered "The Yanks have me."
Our captors then took us to Pamunkey bridge, where their
command had made camp. After loitering there for several
hours, we marched liesurely down the river to Mr. Geo. Taylor's
home, an old time, colonial, fine brick mansion. The Yanks
camped in front of the house and in the midst of a magnificient
wheatfield the extent or size of the field being easily two or three
hundred acres, and the wheat not ripe but in full flower, headhigh,
and the stake so strong that a tin plate would easily be held up
F, 9th or 11th Pennsylvania Cavalry, an exceptionally nice man,
took us up to Mr. Taylor's to get lunch. Mr. Taylor received us,
Taliaferro and me, but showed no friendliness for the Yank.
On getting back to the camp one of the four Yanks who captured
us, came up, pulled out his pistol, pointed it at me and said he
was going to shoot me. He had been drinking and I was very
much frightened indeed. Fortunately, another Yank came along
and made him put his gun up and leave. We were then taken
before Colonel Spears. He asked us what we were doing there.
I told him I heard the Yankees were in the neighborhood and had
come to find the best way to get out of their reach. He said,
"You are a spy. We will have you shot." Hunter said that I
then commenced praying. That night we slept in the woods
with only the sky and the stars for covering, Yankees on all
sides of us.
STORY OF DR. JOSEPH W. EGGLESTON
During the years the manuscript of this work was in preparation,
the author frequently visited Dr. Joseph W. Eggleston at
his office in the Masonic Temple in Richmond. Dr. Eggleston
was Grand Master of Masons in Virginia in 1908, and since has
served for many years as Treasurer of the Grand Lodge of Virginia.
One of his brothers, George Cary Eggleston, became
famous as editor of the New York World, and another brother,
Edward Eggleston, became famous as author of "The Hoosier
Schoolmaster" and other novels. Dr. Joseph W. Eggleston himself
has written and published several books, among them
"Tuckahoe"—an old fashioned story of an old fashioned people;
but those who have known him personally will remember him
best as a raconteur. Following is a story he once told the author
of his experience as a soldier in the Confederate Army. It is
included in this work because the scene of it is laid in Caroline:
"When Grant moved to Lee's left and tried to beat him to
Richmond, it so happened that Lamkin's Battery of Haskell's
Battalion, of which I was a member, was the very last to leave
encampment on the Po river not far from Spotsylvania. We were
to have drawn rations that morning but they only came up in
the wagons at about five o'clock in the afternoon, almost the
very moment we were ordered to march. We started hungry and
did not pause till sometime the next day.
"I was fortunate in that when we had last drawn rations I
got a triple ration of fat bacon by accepting a piece that was
bruised black before the hog was killed, but perfectly sound.
"All night the only order we got was "close up," often repeated
because Grant was close behind. When we got water at all it
was by dipping our canteens in a creek or pond as we waded
through. What wells there were on the line of march were drawn
dry before we got to them. The dust was a cloud of impalpable
powder which, I was afterwards told, was seen ten miles away.
The men were a funny sight. A pile of dust over eyebrows and
mustaches, and streams of sweat running down every face.
"As we trudged along, we were somewhat silent as a rule.
This was uncommon in that army, for a laugh was the common
condition, even in the deadliest fight. Indeed the famous "Rebel
Yell" was as much a laugh as anything else. It was a mixture
the like of which has never been known since and never will be
again.
"About midday I came up with my brother, George Cary
Eggleston, later editor of the New York World for twenty years
and he was all but dead. All his life he boasted that he never
knew he had a stomach except by being hungry, and as he had
nothing for thirty-six hours he must have been hungry indeed.
Somehow it had not occurred to me that he was worse off than
I who had been munching that dirty black pork without bread.
I heard him exclaim "If I had a million dollars I give give it all
for a piece of meat as big as two fingers." Of course I hauled out
my pork, covered with dirt and offered it to him. He refused it
and I told him I was no longer hungry and that we must soon
halt from exhaustion, if from nothing else, and that plenty was
in the wagons right in front of us. He still refused to take it till
I told him I would throw it over the fence unless he took it. Many
years later, after he had lived in New York clubs for years, I was
there on a visit. He gave a dinner in my honor in the Reform
Club. After a luxurious meal, while we were still at the table,
he asked each one to give an account of the most enjoyable meal
they could recall. One of the guests was a son of General O. O.
Howard. After each had spun his yarn, he described the above
and said that it had always remained in his memory as the most
luxurious food he could remember.
"When we crossed the North Anna the enemy opened on us,
the rear of the army, but we met Pickett's Division there fresh
but the Artillery shot it away. As soon as we stopped we drew
rations and I saw a man fall asleep with food in his hand. I also
saw a chaplain of Corse's Brigade preaching in a piece of woods,
with shells tearing the trees, and he preached a long sermon too."
DABNEY JORDAN WALLER'S EXPERIENCE
Dabney Jordan Waller, when past four score years, related
the following Civil War experience to the author:
"I was a member of Company B., Ninth Virginia Cavalry,
S. A. Swann was Captain when the war began and John H.
Ware was captain of this company when the war closed. Our
first Colonel was W. H. F. Lee, and when the war closed Thomas
W. Waller, of Stafford was Colonel. General Beale commanded
the Brigade and W. H. F. Lee the division.
"I have no war record worth noting, save that I conscientiously
performed the duties which devolved upon me. About the middle
of June, 1861, I returned home from college, and after a few days
spent in fitting myself out for service I set out for the army,
accompanied by my servant John. The army was then near
Manassas awaiting battle. I was mustered into the company
known as the Caroline Light Dragoons, and shortly after we went
into battle. Our regiment acquitted itself so well here that we
won the title, "The Fighting Ninth."
"I had a thrilling experience near Brandy Station, Culpeper,
Va., during the cavalry engagement there. I was unhorsed,
through my mount rearing and falling back on me, and though
surrounded by the enemy I managed to regain my saddle and
ride through the enemy lines and back to my command.
"Again at Ashland, Va., I was in a charge and was near our
flag-bearer when he was shot down. I caught the flag and carried
it through the day. We defeated the enemy that day and I
came out without a scratch, but with two bullet holes through
my hat and two in my coat. The old flag had several.
"I was on detail service at the time of the surrender, and
returned home about three weeks afterward. When I joined my
company I was the youngest member of it and received the nickname
"Baby" which clung to me through the war. When the
conflict ended I was sergeant of Company B, Ninth Virginia
Cavalry."
| A history of Caroline county, Virginia | |