LUMSDEN'S BATTERY (continued 2)

All night infantry and artillery men worked with every available tool, down to the bayonet to loosen up the earth, and half of a split canteen to throw up the dirt and next morning found us entrenched in our new line. But on the other edge of the field, the Yankee trenches showed up some 800 yards away.

In this position Lumsden's battery remained nearly all the month of August. Every few days we would have an artillery duel with the rifle battery opposite. Sherman was now extending his right wing, which finally led to the assault of Love Joy station, on the road south of Atlanta. He had also brought down siege guns, that fired shells about the size of nail keg, and was shelling the city. One Sunday we had a particularly fierce duel with our opponents. It happened that the embrasure of the 3rd piece flared a little more squarely to the front of the others. Three whole shells struck the 3rd gun during the action, each coming through the embrasure only about one foot in width. One struck on top between trunnions and vent, gouging out the brass like a half round chisel would have gouged a piece of wood, and glanced on to the rear. The second struck gun carriage on left cheek, just in front of left trunnion and went into small fragments in every direction. The third struck the edge of the muzzle, and crushed it so that we could get no more shells into the gun. It was ruined temporarily, and had to be sent to the arsenal at Macon.

About this time, Gen. Hardee and staff rode up. He inquired: "What's the matter here?" "Nothing," said Lumsden, "but those fellows opened on us and I make it a point to give as good as they send." "Well, cease firing its doing no good, and we must husband our ammunition." Old man Lane had the front end of one foot cut off by a piece of shell. He was bringing up an armfull of cartridges from the caissons under the hill at the time, but did not throw down his load until he brought it to the gun, loudly proclaiming, that he hoped these shells would pay them back for his wound. But that was the end of his service in our army. He was over conscript age, but came as a substitute for some one who could pay for a man to take his place.

I believe that he was the only man struck that day in our company, but in rear of the 3rd gun that had been put out of action, a bunch of canteens, hanging on a forked post were all rendered useless by pieces of shell or bullets coming through the embrasure. The Yankee three-inch rifle was a dead shot at any distance under a mile. They could hit the head of a flour barrel more often than miss, unless the gunner got rattled. The shell consisted of three parts, a conical head with smaller cylinderical base, a cap to fit, that base loosely and a ring of lead that connected the head and base. When fired the cap at butt was thrown forward on the cylinderical base of the cone, expanding the lead ring into the grooves of the rifle, the cone exploding by percussion cap on striking. It was the most accurate field piece of that date. Our smooth bore 12 pounders were always at a disadvantage in artillery duels, but with time fuses and at masses of men, or at a battery in open field, 800 to 1,000 yards, they did good service, and with canisters they could sweep the earth.

After Lovejoy's station, we were moved up to the city, and put into a casemated fort for a short time in the outskirts of the city, whilst evacuation was going on, and were among the last of the commands to leave the doomed town, whence we retreated with a portion of the infantry toward Macon, Ga. Burning stores of all kinds were located by the soldiers, mail cars sacked, and letters and packages of all kinds gone through at road side fires in search of money, the useless letters feeding the fire. This was on the night of September 2, 1864. Rations on the retreat got very short and for once our men were forced to live off the country. When bivouac was made for the night above Macon, for the success of our own particular mess, all scattered after "retreat" roll call in different directions. About midnight they had all come in, and pots, kettles, ovens, and hot coals were in demand. Henry Donoho had shelled out about a peck of cornfield beans from the nearly ripe pods in the fields.

Walter Guild turned up with a long stick across his shoulder, with two large pumpkins stuck on each end. Ed King and Jim Maxwell each had a sack of sweet potatoes, grabbled in a field a mile and a half away.

The Rosser boys had corn too hard for roasting, but all right to grate on an old half canteen grater.

Rube, Aleck Dearing's servant had half a shoat and Jim Bobbett, my own servant, had two ducks.

Some one owned a big brass kettle, that would hold about half a barrel, which the wagons hauled, and it was soon on the fire, filled with the sliced pumpkins, to be stewed down. Some did one thing, and some another, and by an hour before day, that feast was ready, and several more along the same lines in the camp. We ate our fill, filled haversacks, distributed the balance to whoever wanted it and were ready to move at daylight. I believe that it was the only meal I remember during the war, where everything was the proceeds of plunder.

We had been pretty close to a famine for a day or two, but this was surely a feast.

It was all contrary to military law, but soldiers were not going to sit still and starve, when something to eat could be had out of the fields for the taking, and the officers could not be expected to sit up nights to come around and inspect our pots and kettles, and if they did, they could prove nothing, and so, for the occasion and the recognizing necessity, nothing was ever said about it. The men were on hand ready and able to do duty, and the tangle of the crisis was soon straightened out and our rations coming through the regular channels. From Macon, by way of Griffin, where a few days were spent in camp and thence to West Point on the Georgia-Alabama line, where preparations were made to cut loose from the railroad, and traverse northeast Alabama with Hood's army to strike for middle Tennessee by way of Decatur and Florence, west of the mountains. This was now ——, so that we had been months and days in reaching in a roundabout manner since the fall of Atlanta, on Sept. 2. Hood's infantry and cavalry had been somewhere south, and southwest of Atlanta. Sherman was fixing to destroy, and strike out southeast across Georgia, and Hood was preparing to strike out for middle Tennessee and Nashville.

With our guns and wagons, we joined the army wagon train, making its way northwestward, during a very rainy spell of weather. Traveling through the flat piney woods was awful. The white loblolly mud was often axle deep in the road, and turning out in these flats did not seem to better the matter much.

The writer had now been appointed a Sergeant, and been given a pie bald pony to ride at the head of his 4th Detachment of gun caisson. One day his pony got both feet on same side into a deep rut under the loblolly and down flat broadside he went and the writer disappeared. When he emerged he was greeted with the well known yell, "Come out of that, I see your ears sticking out." When the mud dried, it flaked off and I was not much worse off temporarily than the balance of the crowd and they were welcome to the fun.

Finally, we reached the Tennessee valley, in Morgan County, and marched westward. The sites of the old plantation homes were now marked only by groups of chimneys, the plantations a dreary waste. Reaching vicinity of Decatur about —— we found it garrisoned by a Federal force with entrenchments, but Hood's objective point for crossing the Tennessee river was between Tuscumbia and Florence. Near Tuscumbia, our battery was again in camp for a few days. As from West Point to Florence in a direct line is about 200 miles by the route traveled by us 250 or 275 miles of continuous march. We were not sorry to get a chance to rest, wash, clean and repair up. Here, in the garden spot of Alabama, prior to the war, food was scarce. The beef issued to us could not produce a bead of fat, on the top of the pot, when boiled. Bacon or salt pork, when we got any was generally rancid. But we got here one unusual luxury in the way of food, a fine young fat mule had its back broken by the fall of a tree, cut down in camp. So it was killed and the boys took possession and divided it out. It was very fat. The fat from its "innards" was "tryed" out like oil and saved in bottles and cans for "breadshortening" for which it answered well. The meat was very fine, much better than any beef we had gotton for a long time. But the boys made all sorts of fun over it. We had some left to carry along on the march, and a soldier would pull out a hunk from his haversack, throw up his head and let out a big mule bray, "a-h-h-h u-n-k, a-h-h-h u-n-k, a-h-h-h u-n-k," bite off a mouth full and go to chewing.

The crossing of the Tennessee on the night of Nov. 20, 1864, over a pontoon bridge at south Florence was to officers and men of Lumsden's battery only one of many disagreeable experiences. No more than our whole army had gotton used to experiencing in such campaigns in all sorts of weather and conditions, its locality merely makes it stand out in the memory, a little more prominently than other such experiences. Notified in the afternoon to be ready in our turn to cross over, then again to fall into the line on the South bank after dusk; moving on to the bridge after dark, and occupying several hours in crossing, moving a few paces in the bridge, then halting and standing shivering in a drizzling rain, until again a few paces could be gained. Then at the north bank, getting our teams up the steep banks through mud axle deep, by doubling teams and all hands at the wheels and getting through the night, hovering over roadside fires along streets of Florence and roads beyond until daylight brought a possibility of finding a place to make a temporary halt for feed and rest for man and beast.

On November 27th, reaching the vicinity of Columbia, where Schofield was entrenched with an army of about the same size as Hood's, a demonstration was made of an attack on his lines, but the main position of our army crossed Duck river above Columbia and struck for Spring Hill on the turn pike between Columbia and Franklin.

On 29th, the Battalion of Reserve Artillery was ordered to leave guns and caissons, with horses and drivers, under charge of one Commissioned officer south of Duck river. The captains, two Lieuts., Non-Commissioned officers and cannoneers were ordered to follow the infantry brigades; the object being to be able to man any batteries that might be captured from the enemy in this move against his rear. Lumsden was ordered to report to Brig. Gen. Reynolds and to keep right up with his brigade under all circumstances. It was nearly dark when we found ourselves in a half mile of Spring Hill, and there, we remained all night, without any attack being delivered on the enemy hurrying northward along the pike, wagons, artillery and all other vehicles kept on a rush with their infantry on east side of the pike to protect against our attack.

Time was lost during the day in building rough bridges across creeks waist deep to infantry, which had better have been waded, for the few hours so lost, prevented a successful attack at Spring Hill which Hood had planned to demolish Schofield.

Forrest was trying to delay their advance toward Franklin, and sometimes succeeded in getting possession of pike for a short time, capturing teamsters shooting down teams in their harness and setting fire to their wagons.

But their rear passed Spring Hill before daylight the next morning, with Hood's infantry pursuing their rearguard closely into Franklin, where a strong line of entrenchments had been prepared around the edge of the city from Harpeth river above the same below town, and a strong line of rifle pits out in front of the regular trenches.

On the afternoon of Nov. 30, 1864, Hood attacked these entrenchments about 4:00 p.m. Reynolds' brigade was on the right of the pike, somewhat to the right of the historic genhouse. As this brigade started in the charge on the first line of rifle pits, Lumsden's command was close behind with no weapons but their bare hands. Gen. Reynolds noticed it and riding up called out to Capt. Lumsden: "Captain, take your men back behind the hill to our rear." And so it was done; though as soon as our infantry reached the valley and the bullets ceased to fly so thickly about the top of the hill, the whole company was soon at the top of the ridge, watching the terrible struggle in our front over the Federal entrenchments on the outskirts of Franklin.

Away in the night, the flashing rifles revealed the firing of two armies with a bank of six feet of earth between them, until finally it gradually ceased. Before daylight we got certain intelligence that the enemy was gone through Corporal Tom Owen, gunner to 2nd piece, who with another prospecting companion or two had been into the town and returned with a bucket of molasses and some other eatables.

Here we were left by Gen. Reynolds' brigade, and where our horses, guns and caissons came up, Lumsden's battery was again in its usual fighting trim, and moved on to Nashville where it was on Dec. 4th, in the front trenches on the left of the Grannary White Pike, in the yard of a fine brick house, which the enemy had destroyed just outside of their fortifications, known as the "Gales house". Our lines were so close to those of the enemy across a narrow valley of cleared fields, that no one could expose any portion of his body on either work, without drawing the fire of his enemy opposite. Some of the boys found good quarters inside of the old furnace, within a few steps of our guns, those of us in the outside wishing there were a few more furnaces. Talk about not dodging! Whenever one of us had to move about, he had to dodge from one cover to another. But there was one comfort, our infantry kept our enemies dodging also. About Dec. 10th, we were relieved from this position by another battery, and ordered to the extreme left of the army and put in position on a small hill, about 700 yards west of the Hillsboro pike, opposite the house of Robert Castleman, who lived on the east side of said pike some three and a half miles south of Nashville, and three quarters of a mile, southwest from the extreme western end of Hood's line, on the Hillsboro pike. Here, we were ordered to entrench.

[The description of the duty to which Lumsden's Battery was assigned in the battle of Nashville on December 15th, 1864 was lost in some way and not printed in Lumsden's Battery History where it belongs near the top of Page 56 just after the sentence "Here we were ordered to entrench".

The omission was not noticed until after the volumes had all been printed.

These special pages must therefore be put in an insert and read in their proper place, after which again the history takes up the further retreat of the remnant out of Tennessee.]

Major John Foster of the Engineers, with a detail of 100 men had already started on the work. Hood's orders were that it should be a regular fort enclosing the top of hill. As yet, it was simply a redoubt, facing a ridge some 800 yards away that ran nearly perpendicularly to the general direction of the army's line of battle at the extreme left end of the army. Between the ridge and the location of redoubt were cultivated fields, and had been some woods, through which Richland Creek meandered towards the north west. The woods our engineers had cut down, so as to give an uninterrupted view of the lands in our front, and gave a cover for skirmishers who might be driven back towards redoubt and also gave cover for an enemy line of skirmishers to approach to within 100 yards of redoubt under cover, when they had driven back the defending skirmishers.

Major Foster's force had started the redoubt shortly after the remnant of Hood's Army (after Franklin) had aligned itself before Nashville and entrenched somewhere about December 1st to 3rd, it being perhaps a mile or more from extreme left of Hood's Army to the Cumberland River. Gen. Chalmers with Cavalry, and the remnant of Ector's Brigade of infantry as a support, guarding the gaps between left of Hood's entrenchments at Hillsboro pike, to Cumberland River. From the date of our arrival at fort location we had rain snow, and sleet, and the ground frozen hard, so that it was impossible to make any rapid progress on the redoubt laid off for 4 embrasures for our 4 Napoleon guns. Stretched blankets and the tarpaulins from for our guns and ammunition were the only cover for officers or men. I well remember that, the day before the battle of the 15th, my servant Jim Bobbett brought me a change of clean under clothing, for which I had to scrape off the snow on a log at Richland Creek, strip and bathe in its icy waters to make a change.

By the 15th (the day of the battle) we had manerals so long. At my gun we had lost private Horton and Corporal Gunner Ed. King. Hilen L. Rosser at another gun had part of his head shot away. That night as I was pouring some water for Lumsden to wash, he was picking something out of his beard, and said: "Maxwell, that is part of Rosser's brains", out of the 40 men that we had at guns, we had only 22 left, balance having been killed or captured. A Federal officer rode around Lieut. A. C. Hargrove and demanded his surrender, and cut down at his head with his sabre. Hargrove caught the blow on his arm, but it beat down his arm to his head enough to "hurt like thunder", as Hargrove expressed it.

Hargrove grabbed a loose tree branch and struck at Yank's horse which about that time got a bullet from our infantry line and ran away from Hargrove, so that he made it to our new line.

That night we buried Horton near the Franklin pike, where we bivouaced. I cut his name on a head board, and Command to which he belonged.

A detail was sent to the house that had been used as a hospital to bring his body. A long, tall, red-headed private, John Walker, was one of that detail. He had been carrying a great long navy revolver for months for use in such circumstances. When asked how many times he shot it. He laughed and said it was as much as he could do to persuade himself that he was able to get out with it.

It was about 12 o'clock that Capt. Lumsden sent orderly Sergeant J. Mack Shivers on horseback to report to General Stewart that all Confederate infantry had been driven into the fallen timber at our front, and that it was evident the enemy would soon rush us with a charge. That we could leave the guns and get away with all the men.

Shivers returned with the orders, "Tell Captain Lumsden it is necessary to hold the enemy in check to the last minute regardless of losses." This was about 12:30 p.m. They overwhelmed us about 2 p.m.

So that Lumsden's Battery alone had stopped the advance of A. J. Smith's federal Corps for 3 hours during which Confederate troops had been moved from right wing to a new line behind the Hillsboro pike several hundred yards in our rear, which was all important, to the Confederates.

Moving southward from Nashville battlefield, with the remnant of Hood's army, Lumsden's battery was now but a name for a command of men without arms, with a quota of horses, wagons for commissary and quartermaster's supplies with their drivers, one half its cannoneers having been lost at Nashville, killed wounded and prisoners.

A relation of a few happenings along this dreary march in midwinter the roads, a loblolly of sleet and turnpike dust and grit, may serve to show how Lumsden and his officers maintained discipline without resort to severe or degrading punishment for lapses from duty. Like all volunteer commands, it had in its ranks men from all conditions of life and of various degrees of education from the collegiate down to the illiterate man who could not write his own name. But perhaps one half of the enlisted men or privates were graduates and had started into professional life or had left college to give their services to their country before the end of the university terms. They were gentlemen, and imbued generally with the high sense of honor and devotion to duty usual among boys and men in such social standing. They gave the general tone to the command and the officers were careful to do all possible to keep its moral tone and to impose no punishment that would lower the culprit in his own estimation. They did punish by imposing extra duties for violation of military rules, but always the individual punished as well as all his comrades were perfectly conscious that the punishment was deserved, and therefore necessary. For instance a private had been grumbling for several weeks to his sergeant about putting him on details so often, ignoring the fact that the numerous jobs to be attended to, brought around often to each man, his time to go on detail. One morning this private said something to the sergeant who was at the time cutting up the detachment's cooked beef into equal portions, that passed the sergeant's patience. He laid down his knife, got up and faced the man, with the remark: "I've stood your jaw as long as I intend to", and delivered him a blow with his fist between the eyes. Of course things were lively for a while until Lt. Hargrove ran up interfered forcibly between the combatants and ordered them back to the duties on hand. Some nights after the sergeant was standing by the Captain's fire and no one was near, but Capt. Lumsden, who said: "What was the matter with you and ——, the other morning?" "Nothing much, Captain, except he had been grumbling and fussing for some time, whenever his time came to be detailed on a job, and just got so I could not stand it any longer, and determined to put a stop to it." "Well, you've no right to strike any of these men with your fist. If a man is insubordinate, you have a right to shoot him, but not to strike him with your fist." The sergeant laughed and replied: "But it was not bad enough for that, and of course I was not going to shoot him, but I don't think he will need any more." There was never anything more said about it, and the soldier quit grumbling and did his part thereafter, as well as anyone to the end of the war. Another case in point, just after leaving Nashville, a non-commissioned officer had been affected with boils, so that he could not ride horseback for a few days, and it was against orders to ride in the wagons. His boots were split at the counters, the soles were tied to the uppers by strings and he had no socks. The turnpike gritty freezing slush worked into his feet until he could hardly hobble, so he would watch his chance, when no officers eye was on him, and crawl into a wagon and there stay until camp was reached at night when he would crawl out. One night, when he crawled out in a drizzling cold rain, and finding a fire in an old barn on the opposite side of the road, with soldiers of another command, he remained there in comparative comfort all night, and after daylight turned up at the officers fire. Lieut. A. C. Hargrove said to him: "Where were you last night, Sir, after we went into camp?" "I slept in that barn across the road." "Well, we had to send a detail with horses back to the pontoon train, and I wanted to send you in charge of it, but no one could find you anywhere. You have been straggling ever since we left Nashville, and not attending to your duties." "Lieutenant, I've not been straggling, as you think I have. Look at my feet, I could not walk and keep up. I had boils so that I could not ride my horse. The only way I could keep up was to steal rides in a wagon during the day, and that's what I have been doing." "Well, you have not been excused by the surgeon." "No, Sir, I did not want to be sent away from the command." When the Lieut. walked off, the Capt. said: "I'll tell you what's the matter with you. You've got out of heart. You've lost all hope of our winning this fight. It does look black. But the thing for you and me and all the balance of us to do, is to just stand it out to the end. It can't last much longer. That is true. But when it is done, we all of us want to be conscious that we have done our duty from start to finish." "Captain, I've always done all I was able to do, and expect to, until the end comes." "That is true and, we'll hold out to the end."

That was Lumsden's way of controlling his men. He made them feel as if he knew that it was their determination to do their full duty, and the whole tone of the battery was kept up to the standard by the idea. The high standard of its personale was the result not of fear or compulsion, but of individual personal patriotism.

On this retreat it was difficult to find food for the army, and first one command, then another, ran mighty short. Passing through a mountainous thinly settled country during Christmas week, our Captain gave a few permits to different individuals to forage off the line of march. One forager heard of some mills along a creek some miles off the line of retreat, and struck out for them horseback. On his arrival at the first, he found it crowded with infantry men, each guarding his sack of wheat, and awaiting his turn to run it through the mill. The miller was there, and was asked if he could sell a sack of wheat. He replied: "these soldiers say they are bound to have all there is, and I help them grind it, to save injury to my mill. The wheat belongs to the neighborhood." "Where is there another mill?" "About three miles down the creek." Off our forager rode. He saw that money nor begging would prevail to get bread and determined on a bluff. The next mill had soldiers claiming all the wheat, but some of it was in boxes or bins. He called the miller out, and offered to pay for a couple of bushels. "It is not mine, said the miller, it belongs to people around here, but I had better take even Confederate money for it, than nothing at all, and if you can get a couple of bushels, go ahead." So into the mill our man went, with his sack, and walked up to a box holding perhaps ten bushels, on which sat a soldier with his rifle leaning against the box, with the request: "Let me get at the box, if you please." "You can't get any of this meal, our men need it all", reaching for his gun. "I'll show you about that, Sir, my men have had no bread for three days, and some of this wheat, I'm going to have" and he began shoveling it into his sack, regardless of protests, until sack was full; then he said, "that is all I want," turned to the mill hopper dumped it in, as soon as the same was about empty, putting his sack under the spout. When his sack was full of whole wheat meal, he tied it, paid the miller and rode off rejoicing. When he found the command that night, some hogs had been brought and issued by the commissary, and the two bushels of wheat meal was a Godsend. Our mess, after breakfast next morning, divided out to each, eleven big army biscuits apiece, but before dinner time, one gaunt member of the mess had finished up his lot and was on the lookout for more.

Recrossing the Tennessee river on the —— day of December near Brainbridge, we camped a few days near Tuka, Mississippi, for rest and a general cleaning up, but many soldiers had no clothing except the ragged suits they had on, and cleaning involved the washing and drying of a portion of their garments at a time.

A Confederate private at that time could be pictured in words about thus: A pair of old shoes or boots, with soles gaping, and tied to the uppers with strings, no socks, threadbare pants, patched at the knees, burnt out at the bottom behind, half way to his knees, his back calves black with smoke, from standing with his back to fires, his shirt sticking out of holes in rear of his pants, a weather beaten jeans jacket out at elbows and collar greasy, and an old slouch wool hat hanging about his face, with a tuft of hair sticking out at the crown.

The officers, in many cases, did not show up much better. In either case, the man, who had a negro body servant along, fared the best, and was kept clothed the best.

The negro slaves usually had money in their pockets, when their masters had none, that they made serving officers and men in many ways.

The writer's own servant, Jim Bobbett by name, had left his wife on my father's plantation in Tuscaloosa County, Alabama, but had no children. He was selected from several who desired the place, as being a handy fellow all round. A pure negro, with flat nose, and merry disposition. From mere love of myself and a determination to see that I should never lack food or clothing, as long as he could obtain the wherewithal to prevent it, he was faithful in that service, just as a Confederate soldier was faithful in the service of the government he was fighting for. He wore a broad flat waterproof belt next to his skin, and scarcely ever had less than $100.00 therein, and often as high as $1,000.00. He was a good barber and clothes cleaner, and a handy man in many ways, and a few weeks stop of the army in camp soon replenished his "bank" and out of it he generally procured what was needed for me or himself or his friends, without any interference or direction from me.

If he got more than he needed, he disposed of his surplus at a profit. I suppose that if neither a slick tongue nor money would procure necessities, he did not hesitate to "press" them. But his jolly flattering tongue, with the women of his race, along our routes made him their favorite, and when he bade them "goodbye" his "grub" bucket would be filled with the best to be had. When he and his pals were behind, when the wagon train came up, we did not kick, but would turn in, perhaps supperless, to sleep, knowing that some time before day, they would arrive with something to fill us up.

I suppose that some of his class did desert to the enemy, but the large majority were true as steel to their masters and their duty, from the beginning to the end, often at great personal risk and none attached to our company ever deserted. They could have done so easily at any time, and been free inside of the enemies' lines, but personal loyalty to their masters and their own people, as they considered their master's families held them cheerfully to their duty. There was no compulsion about it. They struggled and foraged and speculated at their own sweet will, yet all the time, looking out for their master's interests over and above all else.

These facts are some of the strongest proofs, that between masters and slaves of those old days, there were ties as strong as steel, in the close personal relationship that neither forgot. It had its counterpart in the love and service of the old "Mammy" to her master's family and children. She loved them, and delighted to serve and care for them, sometimes to the neglect of her own flesh and blood.

One morning in bivouac, near Tuka, at breakfast, around the officers fire, there was served a fine skillet full of fried pigeons, with gravey and biscuit, washed down with burnt corn coffee. Old "Ike," Lt. Caldwell's darky had come in during the night from a forage, Lieut Hargrove with the others of the mess, was enjoying the meal when all at once, Hargrove says: "Ike, where did you get these pigeons?" "Oh! Marse Cole, don't you bodded about dat. You eat your breakfast." "Ike, you old rascal, I believe you stole these pigeons, and if I had anything else to eat, I wouldn't eat them." "Dar now, Marse Cole, it's a blessed thing, dat you'se got me and dese udder fellows to look atter dis mess, kaze if it twant for us, you'd go hungry many a time, and dats a fac." "Well," said another officer, "its a bully old breakfast any how, and we don't know when we'll get such another." From Tuka, the command with its wagons marched to Columbus, Mississippi, where it went into camp near the outskirts of the town. Here, there came down from Corinth, Aleck Dearing and John Bartee, who having been on sick furlough in Tuscaloosa, had missed the Tennessee campaign, with them were some others and also some conscripts among whom was Richard Maxwell, the youngest of the old firm of T. J. R. & R. Maxwell, who had to at last take the field, having served some time in Leach & Avery's hat factory and thus exempt for that time from conscription. This squad of returning men, had charge of boxes of clothing for most of the men in the command and provisions furnished by friends and relatives in Tuscaloosa, which they had gotton up to Corinth with it trying to reach Hood's army, wherever it might be. At Corinth some quartermaster had furnished them a wall tent with "fly" to protect the goods. When ordered to move with the goods from Corinth, down to Columbus, by train, they were ordered to return the tent and fly. But they were too experienced old soldiers for that, so they hustled boxes, tent and all to the train, and came on to Columbus, with the whole lay out. They made a present of the fly to the officers of the company, and kept the tent to protect the goods until distributed, and incidently themselves. This tent and fly were the only ones left in the company now, as nothing of the kind had been on hand for many a month.

During rains, a blanket stretched over a pole, three feet from the ground, would somewhat shelter three men. When it was not raining, shelter was unnecessary to the hard old veterans.

Once again and for the last time, Lumsden and most of his men got into whole and comfortable clothing. Our new comrade, Richard Maxwell did not hold out long. He had lately married a young wife, and nostalgia got hold of him, he lost all appetite, and was attacked with dysentery, so off he was sent to hospital in Columbus. There he did not improve, and he persuaded the surgeon in charge to order him to report to Tuscaloosa hospital. He soon found friends in Columbus to take him home. The most of Hood's army, that still had arms, were now rushed around by rail, via Meridian, Selma, Montgomery, West Point, Macon and on to North Carolina to Gen. Jos. E. Johnston, once more to try to prevent Sherman's march to the rear of Richmond. Our command having no guns was ordered to report to Gen. Dabney H. Maury, at Mobile, the old drivers now to act as cannoneers, making up sufficient to again man a four or six gun battery in a fort.

At Mobile we were placed temporarily at Battery B., above Mobile in a fort with big cast iron siege guns, commanding a portion of the march. We were soon well drilled in the handling of siege artillery of this class, and also had some practice with small Coehorn mortars, firing at targets out in the marsh. Here, the boys went in for a good time whenever they could get permits to visit down in the city. They would test the restaurants to see what sort of meals Confederate money would still bring in a big city on the sea coast. Fish and oysters were plentiful, as well as eggs and vegetables. But for coffee we had to take whatever substitute was available. Usually sweet potatoes, okra or sage. For sweetening either long sweetening (molasses) or short sweetening (a moist clammy dark brown sugar.) For cream, if wanted, a beaten egg answered, but most of us preferred the "coffee" "barefooted and baldheaded," i.e., without cream or sugar, or "straight." Some little new corn whiskey, white as water, could be had also "sub rosa." Occasionally, at a social call at some private residence, home-made wine from grapes or blackberry might be set before the caller, but real coffee or tea, or white sugar was hardly to be had, for love or money. One night in company with a mess mate we got permission to go to the city to call on friends. These friends were the family of a commission merchant, who was a friend of our parents, and included an eldest daughter who was quite a noted authoress, extremely well read and learned, and two younger daughters. We found several high officers were also callers, rigged out in their best uniforms, with their proper insigma of rank in golden stars and lacing. We were in our new gray jeans jackets and pants and linsey shirts, lately gotton from home at Columbus. But that did not make any difference at all. We were welcomed, introduced all around, entertained on an equality. In fact one of the higher officers we found to be an old college mate. The officers from Generals to Captains were of course older than we, who were each only about twenty years of age, so that naturally they fell to the older members of the family, while we were entertained by the younger daughters, who were in their "teens." With back gammon checkers and cards the evening passed pleasantly. When we boys, who had to foot it two or three miles, made our adieux, the ladies accompanied us to the door, asked us to call on them again and the authoress said, as we were about to leave the door: "I hope you gentlemen will not form an opinion about the meteorology of Mobile, by what you have seen since your arrival." My friend said: "Yes, Madam," and we both bade them all good night. As we walked up the street, my friend said: "Jim, what in the mischief was that she said? Meteor-meteor, what? "Oh" I said: "She meant she hoped we would not think they had this sort of weather here, all the time." "Oh, shucks; I could not make it out."

A few days after, Gen. Maury held a review of his army on Government Street. We were ordered in. We had in our company, several soldiers, who had neither coat nor pants. They were down to shirts and drawers, as nothing had come to them from Tuscaloosa, they being from another section. Capt. Lumsden sent for them and told them he would not insist on their going on parade, in that condition, but that if they would, he did not doubt, that it would result in getting them some clothing. They decided to go. So, when the parade was formed on Government Street, for Gen. Maury's inspection, these men showed up in the front rank, and caught the General's eye. He rode up to Lumsden and asked: "Captain, what does that mean, those men in ranks, in that condition?" "They have no clothing, Sir, but what they have on, and I have exhausted all means to obtain it, by requisition after requisition." "Can't you think of some way, Captain?" "If you will allow me to detail a man to go to Tuscaloosa, I do not doubt we can get all the clothes needed, in some way." "All right, Captain, make the detail, I will endorse it, approved." "Thank you, Sir, we will attend to it at once."

On return to camp, Capt. Lumsden had orders written for the writer to proceed to Tuscaloosa on this business and started the papers up to headquarters in regular channel.

But about March 20th, we were sent over to Spanish Fort, on the Eastern shore of Mobile river or rather Spanish river as the eastern channel is called, by steamer. We were placed in charge of an angle, at about the center of the fortified semi-circle that constituted the Fort, armed with 4 six pounder field guns. They seemed like pop guns in comparison with the 12 pounder Napoleons, that we had handled so long.

We planted our front pretty thoroughly with mines, consisting of large shells buried with caps that would explode at the touch of a foot on a trigger, and we awaited the approach of the Federal force that had been landed below.

On March 26th, he arrived before us entrenched and we had several lively artillery duels while he was so doing.

By April 4th, he had in position 38 siege guns, including six 20 lb. rifles, 16 mortars and 37 field guns, when he opened fire at 5:00 a.m., and continued until 7:00 a.m., and so continued on April 5th, 6th and 7th. On April 8th, he had 53 siege guns in position, and 37 field guns. Closer and closer, came the parallels, each morning finding the Federal trenches closer than the day before, until any exposure of any part of the body, of either Yank or Confederate, would draw several bullets, men standing with rifles at shoulder beneath the head logs and finger on trigger, ready to fire at the least motion shown on opposite entrenchment.

We were furnished, each man with a rifle, as well as our artillery, and our shoulders got sore with the continued kick of the firing. We were moved once along the line nearer the river on the northern line of the Fort.

Here, Lieut. A. C. Hargrove, received the bullet that remained somewhere in his head during the balance of his life.

That afternoon the orders detailing the writer to go to Tuscaloosa came back from headquarters, they were handed to him, and he was ordered to start at once to get the boat that would leave that night. This ended the writer's personal experience in Lumsden's battery. They evacuated with the garrison of the night of April and were transported over to Mobile, wading out into the Bay to meet the relieving boat.

This practically ended the service of the command, which was transported by rail to Meridian and was part of the last organized command surrendered by Gen. Dick Taylor with his Department on the 4th day of May, 1865.

There they went into service near Mobile, and after four years of active service in Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Kentucky and Georgia, they were disbanded near the scene of their first service.

LUMSDEN'S BATTERY, (LIGHT ARTILLERY) C. S. A.

Organized Nov. 4, 1861

(6) Officers

1. Charles L. Lumsden Captain.

2. George W. Vaughn Sr. First Lieut.

3. Harvey H. Cribbs Jr. First Lieut.

4. Ebenezer H. Hargrove Sr. Second Lieut.

5. Edward Tarrant Jr. Second Lieut.

6. Joseph Porter Sykes Cadet C. S. A.

(14) Non-Commissioned Officers

1. George Little Orderly Sergeant.

2. John Snow Quartermaster Sergeant.

3. John A. Caldwell later elected Lieut., and James R. Maxwell appointed in his place. Sergeant, First piece,

4. Wiley G. W. Hester Sergeant, Second Piece.

5. Sam Hairston Sergeant, Third Piece.

6. Horace Walpole Martin Sergeant, Fourth Piece.

7. Andrew Coleman Hargrove Sergeant, Fifth Piece.

8. James L. Miller Sergeant, Sixth Piece.

Corporals

1. J. Wick Brown First Corporal

2. James Cardwell Second Corporal

3. Alex T. Dearing Third Corporal

4. William Hester Fourth Corporal

5. Thomas Owen Fifth Corporal

6. Seth Shepherd Sixth Corporal

PRIVATES

1. Appling, Wm. B. 94. Kahnweiler, Lewis

2. Atkins 95. Kelly, Daniel

3. Austin, Thomas 96. Kelly, Louis

4. Bates, William 97. Kilgore

5. Bartee, John P. 98. King, Edward

6. Barker, William 99. Kuykendall

7. Barrett, Gideon 100. Lashley

8. Barrett, Frank 101. Leslie

9. Beatty, William 102. Lane

10. Baumeister, Joseph 103. Lanneau, K. Palmer

11. Blackstock, Belson 104. Little, John, Jr.

12. Booth, James 105. Little, James

13. Booth, David 106. Lloyd, George

14. Booth, Curtis 107. Maddox, John

15. Braun, William 108. Malone, William

16. Brady, Dennis 109. Maner

17. Brooks, Wade 110. Menning, John

18. Browne, Newborne H. 111. Maxwell, James R.

19. Bulger 112. Maxwell, Richard

20. Burleson 113. Matthews

21. Conner 114. Maher, Dennis

22. Cooper, William 115. Molette, John

23. Cosmer 116. Moore, Dr.

24. Cox 117. Morris, William

25. Chancellor, John S. 118. Milton

26. Chancellor, M. H. 119. Moss

27. Creel 120. Moody, Joseph

28. Crocker 121. Parish, James

29. Cummins, St. John 122. Mason, Isaac

30. Darden, Morgan, M. 123. Nix, Ambrose

31. Deason, Peter 124. Nix, John

32. Deason, Washington 125. Parker, Foster

33. Dehart 126. Pearce

34. Delano, Sirenus 127. Peoples, John

35. Donoho, Charles M. 128. Peterson, H. C.

36. Donoho, Henry 129. Pollard, J. W.

37. Drake, John 130. Pool, Erwin P.

38. Emerson, James 131. Post, Peter K.

39. Evans, E. P. 132. Potts, Thomas W.

40. Evans, John 133. Papin

41. Etheridge, Henry 134. Ray, George

42. Faucett, Thomas 135. Raley

43. Fiquet, Charles J. 136. Renfro

44. Fleming, William 137. Rosser, R. M.

45. Foster, Robert S. 138. Rosser, L. H.

46. Foster, Robert Ware 139. Rosser, H. L.

47. Franks 140. Ryland, Joseph H.

48. Franks 141. Sadler

49. Franks 142. Sample, Joseph

50. Franks 143. Sartain

51. Franks 144. Savage, John

52. Fulghem 145. Scrivner, Sr., R.

53. Gaddy, R. M. 146. Scrivner, Jr., R.

54. Garner, Abraham 147. Scrivner, James

55. Garner, John 148. Sexton, Benjamen F.

56. Garner, Thomas 149. Sexton, Horace H.

57. Goodwin, James 150. Shuttlesworth, R. F.

58. Goodwin, Wyche 151. Shultz, David

59. Goodwin 152. Shultz, Thomas J.

60. Graham 153. Searcy, James T.

61. Grayson, Preston 154. Sims, J. Marion

62. Guild, Walter 155. Staley, Charles

63. Gurley, Jacob 156. Shivers, J. Mc.

64. Hall, Joshua 157. Sutton, Jack

65. Hall, John 158. Sykes, John

66. Hall, Zach 159. Smith, George W.

67. Hamner, John 160. Tackett, William

68. Haney, John W. 161. Tarrant, John F.

69. Hargrove, Arthur 162. Tarrant, William

70. Hargrove, Daniel 163. Thompson, A. J.

71. Hargrove, Rufus 164. Thompson, M. D.

72. Hargrove, Tenetus 165. Thornton, Arthur

73. Hester, William C. 166. Thrower, J. T.

74. Hester, Thomas J. 167. Tingle

75. Higbee, V. 168. Toole, George

76. Highsaw, Nathaniel 169. Townsend

77. Hildebrand 170. Trehorn

78. Hill, Dr. 171. Vance, John

79. Hogan, James 172. Vandiver, William

80. Holcomb, Thomas 173. Walker, John

81. Horton, John 174. Walker, Robert G.

82. Howard, Daniel 175. Waite

83. Howard, Charles B. 176. Watkins

84. Hunter, Thomas 177. Watkins, John

85. Hocutt 178. Weems, John

86. Hyche, Perry 179. Wilborn, Thomas J.

87. Hyche, John 180. Wilds

88. Hughes, Anthony 181. Winborn, D.

89. Jenkins, William 182. Williams

90. Johnson, William H. 183. White

91. Jones, David 184. Winn, John

92. Jones, James T. 185. Woodruff, William

93. Jones, Lawrence 186. Wooley, B. F.

Surgeons: Marlowe, Nicholas, Perkins, McMichall and Jarratt.

SUMMARY

Officers 6

Surgeons 3

Officers, Non-commissioned 14

Privates 186

Names not recalled 16

Total 225