A JOURNEY ON FOOT

CHAPTER XVIII

I KEPT a diary on my way home from the war and have copied so much of it as I still possess.

We were paroled at Appomattox on the 12th of April, 1865. Our arms had been turned over to the Federals in accordance with the terms of the surrender and only the officers who bore a commission were permitted to retain their side arms. On the evening of Wednesday, the 12th of April, myself, as lieutenant of the company, together with twelve or fourteen of the boys started afoot for home. We had little time to consider how we should reach Alabama, but we quickly decided to start anyway and walk until some better plan presented itself. It is twenty-four miles from Appomattox to Lynchburg, and we turned our faces toward the latter place and hurried off in that direction trying to get as far on the road as possible before night should overtake us. The fact that we were unarmed and surrounded on every side by Yankees had a tendency to intimidate us. We felt helpless without our muskets, having relied so long on them for protection. We wanted to get as far away from our quandam foes as possible. When night came on we were seven miles on the (Page 160) road, and turned off into the woods and lay down on the ground to sleep away the night. It was a rainy night.

On the 13th of April we came on to Lynchburg without encountering anything worth relating. Here we stayed over night and on Friday, the 14th, we made a late start, and traveled eighteen miles, reaching a water mill, where we hoped to replenish our commissary. Our feet were becoming very sore and sensitive, and we ourselves were worn, weary, and hungry. We had to depend entirely upon the people along our route of travel for food, as we had no other source from which to draw. The miller gave us a vacant house in which to sleep and we bought three-quarters of a bushel of meal with Confederate money, the only kind we had. This meal was made into dough and cooked, ready for next day. Towards night it began to cloud up, and the clouds thickened during the night, and as the morning dawned it began to pour down rain.

April 15-We start in the rain and mud. Heavy marching, but in a few hours we reach Liberty, Va. Four years previous we gassed through Liberty on our way to the front, with high hopes and buoyant spirits. It was here that the good people had met us with loads of good things to eat, and gave us a royal reception in every way, bidding us God-speed on our way to Manassas to whip the Yanks. How changed now! No one to greet us now. The (Page 161) little place seems deserted. Before it was all noise and fun, now still and sad. Four years of war had wrought a mighty change. We proceeded four miles over the muddy road to a blacksmith's shop, where we halted for the night. A nice fat shoat crossed our path just before reaching the shop, and being short on meat we killed it and carried the carcass to our camp where it was cleaned and dressed and in the night was cooked to a finish and in a manner to tempt the appetite of an epicure. Part of our crowd spent the night at the shop to cook the shoat, and the rest went three miles further to a mill to purchase meal and flour and cook up some bread. For the first time, now, our commissary department was in a flourishing condition and like the children of Israel at the advent of the quails, we were disposed to be satisfied. As evening came, the sun disappeared bright behind the Blue Ridge Mountains; all clouds had dispersed and the last lingering rays of the sun shone out bright and clear, cheering us with the prospect of fair weather for the morrow.

April 16-This is Sunday. The first on our march. A most lovely, beautiful, day-bright, crisp and cheery, but the road is muddy and sloppy. We should stop and observe the day, but our minds are too much bent on home. How can we stop? No we could not observe the day aright under existing conditions. Leaving McDaniel's shop we pass on by (Page 162) Joppa's mill where we join the boys sent ahead yesterday. They had cooked at least three days rations of bread and were ready to join us as we came up. After making eleven miles we reach the regular pike road and here the scenery is grand beyond description. Mountains stretching away to the right and left and far away in our front piled up in undulating billows. Though the pike is hard and stony, using up our poor tired feet we prefer it to the mud, and this day we make twenty-three miles, a pretty good Sabbath Day's journey. Reaching a store house by the road known as "Taylor's Store", we stop for the night. A big-hearted Virginian took myself and a few of the boys to his home and entertained us as only a Virginian can. His name was J. A. Burwell, and I am sure he can never know how we appreciated his generosity, for words were too weak to express it.

Monday, April 17-Another beautiful day. Not a speck of cloud to be seen; all is bright and sunshiny except our prospects. A long stretch intervenes between us and the bright haven of our desires and we dread to contemplate it. Our road is extremely rocky and rough today, over hills and mountains, and the winding ridges, though picturesque, are trying to our sore feet. We pass through Rocky Mount, a desolate looking place. One thing makes it interesting to us, it is the home of old Gen. Early. We all know Gen. Early, (Page 163) and we recall his gallantry on a hundred battlefields, and his undying love for the Confederacy. He was a rough man, a cursing man, the very opposite to that other great Virginian, Stonewall Jackson. But he was a great fighter, and this rocky town has attractions for us on his account. Passing on from here the country again assumes a grand and picturesque appearance. The scenery passes description, but the pike is hard and rocky and my poor feet are ready to succumb. All day it is up one mountain, then down the opposite side, again a climb to the top of another. At night we rest twenty-eight miles from our starting point. We are rather low-spirited tonight; the long march and rough road have told on us. And as we look ahead the prospect appears gloomy. We came all day through a mountain country with few settlements, and as our rations get lower we will suffer soon unless we strike a more populous section.

Tuesday, April 18-As soon as day breaks we are on the march and for thirteen miles it is the same stony mountainous road of yesterday: The clear rivulets and dancing streams that ever and anon cross our road are indeed lovely and cheering and helpful to our gloomy feelings. At the foot of a lofty mountain peak we come to Smith's River, a rapid, clear, sparkling little stream. It lies right across our path and as there is no bridge we are puzzled to know how we shall cross it. (Page 164) A little search reveals a dugout and in this we reach the other side in safety. This little incident was commented on, as it was the first "speck" of transportation we had encountered on our trip so far. Passing Barkdale's Furnace we turned from the mountain road to Mayo's Forge toward Sandy Ridge, North Carolina. When we reach Mayo's Forge we are most hospitably entertained by Mrs. Penn. She prepared a nice dinner for us, set the table out in the yard under the ample shade of the large trees and loaded it with a bountiful supply of good things. A Mrs. Smithy assisted her in it all, and we felt like that fellow who had met bad luck on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho; being in hard luck we had found our good Samaritan. These were splendid people and could not do enough for us, and I trust God's blessings followed them through life. Went on from there and made twenty-four miles that day, and turned in at night into an old empty barn-house, but the fleas and rats robbed us of our much needed rest. The fleas were simply a terror and forbid all semblance of sleep.

April 19-Before sunrise we are on our way again. Leaving the Blue Ridge to the right we come to a level sandy road leading from Patrick County, Va., into Stokes County, N. C. It is a warm, sunny day, getting hot in the middle of the day and making walking rather oppressive. The country assumes a more (Page 165) civilized appearance, and lands are richer and more susceptible to tillage. In the evening we come again into a hilly, broken country, sparsely settled. Near sundown we cross-Dan River at Davis' Ford in a dugout, and three miles further on we stop, having come twenty-six miles. We lie down for the night in a yard on the soft grass as a couch, under a spreading tree. About midnight it begins to rain and we have to shift our bed from the grass to the open porch of the adjoining dwelling.

Thursday, April 20-At dawn we are up and find it still raining, but we have no idea of tarrying. The road is slippery and in every way disagreeable, but there is a mill ahead, and there we hope to replenish our exhausted store. Reaching it we secure twenty-five pounds of flour, and send some of the boys on ahead to a little town called Germantown to get the flour cooked by the time we arrive. The good folk of this place, on finding out our needs, soon have our flour turned into nice, sweet bread, and as those of our company left behind come up we all go on to Bethania, where we spend the night, having come altogether this day eighteen miles.

April 21-At this last place, Bethania, we slept in an old loom-house, a very common thing in those times, where the women of the family made the wearing apparel for the household. Started early, traveled through a lovely country with rich soil, and after seven (Page 166) miles we reached the Yadkin River, the largest stream yet met with on our journey. A big ferry boat awaits us here. Hundreds of paroled soldiers from Lee's army are gathered on its banks waiting for their turn to be set across. These had preceded us and must have come a different route, as we had seen none of them on our trip. We, like the rest await our turn, and in due time it comes around and we are safely set over the river and pursue our course. Two miles from the ford, known as Glenn's Ford, we reach Mr. Glenn's residence. A large two-story dwelling, painted white, well-proportioned every way, with a beautiful, well kept yard in front, all presenting a charming appearance, and we all exclaimed at once, "The loveliest spot to be seen from Petersburg, Va. to where this imposing mansion stands here on the Yadkin River in North Carolina." And a noble, big-hearted, whole-souled old gentleman it claims as its owner. What a vast army of battle scarred, foot-sore veterans he fed this day with his own hands. To every soldier he gave freely one pound of flour and some molasses, bidding him God-speed on his weary way to his far distant home. If one considers the horde of soldiers passing that way he will see that this was a big thing. Traveling toward Statesville through some splendid country in Yadkin County, the clouds threatening rain, we came to a brand new (Page 167) house in the woods, after a twenty-mile march and put up for the night. A nice house, off in the woods, unoccupied, the clouds threatening to pour down rain any minute, now was that not providential? Some thoughtful person built that house just for us, and went off and left it until we should get the benefit of it.

April 22-Another bright pretty day, and we are stirring early. The country through which we pass is poor in the extreme and our haversacks are getting light. Walking and change of water gives us all a sharp appetite and it is difficult to keep in rations. The chances for food are meager indeed, the country is poor and the people are poor. After a twelve mile walk we reach a much better country and our hopes are revived, and at 1 o'clock we have come twenty miles and we conclude to divide our little party into groups of two and three and go out in different directions among the good people of the neighborhood and have our clothes laundered and reassemble next evening at the little town of Olin, which was near by. With this agreement we divided up according to our army messes, each mess going to a house of its own election. Sergeant Tom Ormond, Win Hale, Dan McKinley, Lon Clary and myself went to the left of the road about a mile and called at a house. A widow was in possession, a Mrs. Tucker. She gladly received us and treated us splendidly. There were four maiden (Page 168) daughters all of marriageable age and all pretty. Now you can, imagine us, rough soldiers, just out of war, suddenly confronted by these bewitching girls. James Bradshaw and Taylor Bradshaw and Young Harris left us and went on to Spartanburg, S. C., proposing to visit their relatives there and rejoin us at Greenville, S. C.

April 23-This is Sunday. A calm, beautiful Sabbath Day. Away off here in the country, far removed from the bustle of camp and the din and noise of war. It was lovely! It seemed so still and solemn; no rattle of drum and fife, no guard mounting or picket duty. My! My! A long time had elapsed since we had experienced such. We breakfasted with Mrs. Tucker and her charming daughters, remaining a few hours, going on to Olin about ten o'clock where we stopped to attend church and hear the morning sermon. A gentleman invited me to dinner and about two o'clock we left Olin and marched thirteen miles before night overtook us. It was a cool evening, and the night was real cool. Slept in an old schoolhouse, but really it was too cold to sleep or rest.

Monday, April 24-Arose stiff and sore and illy prepared for the day's journey, but as the morning opened up bright and clear and quite cold for the season of the year, a big white frost covering the ground, we were soon off for Alabama, directing our course (Page 169) along a rather blind way, seeking a ford on the Catawba River. Our crowd got somewhat scattered as we rambled through the woods seeking the ford. Hale, McKinley, Cox, Little and myself and some of the company negroes kept together, and as we passed a Mr. Pressley's home he kindly treated us to a nice breakfast, which was most highly appreciated and enjoyed. Tom Barnes, George Denton, Tom Ormond, Lon Clary, Newt Hitt, and Sam Moore became separated from the rest of us. Reaching the Catawba we crossed at Deep Water in a dugout, the river being quite wide and shallow at this point. Our traveling during the day was through woods and along by-paths, making however, in all twenty-two miles. Slept in an old outhouse at Newton, N. C. A gentleman named Bost gave me a warm supper which was enjoyed to the full. We became re united at this place, all meeting here at Newton after our brief separation.

April 25-Bright and exhilarating and not so cold as yesterday. Leave Newton behind us at a very early hour. The road is level and smooth and we pass some fine farms, the owners of which were preparing to put in the spring planting. At Mr. Beavers' we got a good dinner, and after measuring off thirty-one miles we lay down in an old field to spend the night. This, I believe, is the best day's march of the journey so far, and we had to (Page 170) cross the South Fork River in a canoe at Rocky Ford, which consumed some time.

April 26-Here a leaf is torn from the diary and I have to leave it blank.

April 27-Another one of those cool, clear days, fine for traveling. Met a woman in the road with two oxen hitched to a cart and she was the driver. Looked rather odd as it was the first time we ever saw the like. Farther on we met another woman on a horse. She was evidently coming from mill as she was sitting on a couple of sacks of meal and reading a letter as she rode along. Who can beat it? Came to a town named "Fingerville" --peculiar name. Met a lot of Dutch girls who lived no doubt thereabout. Two women asked us for a chew of tobacco. That, too, seemed strange to us; not being accustomed to such. Passed through, today, a very poor country, piney woods mostly and the soil looks barren, and the people are extremely poor, but apparently as kind and generous as they can be. Made thirty miles; and Clary, Cox, Ormond, and myself spent the night with a Mr. Clark, who gave us supper and offered us a bed to sleep on, the first on our trip, but we took the floor in preference as we were used to that now and preferred it.

April 28-At twenty minutes after four o'clock A. M. we start. Walked seven miles and ate breakfast at a good man's house by the roadside. He had several nice girls who (Page 171) appeared to be very shy and afraid of soldiers. The day was cool and cloudy, nice for us. A gentleman picked me up in his buggy and gave me a five-mile ride. This was fine and I enjoyed it, as my feet were sore and my legs tired. Rained in the afternoon, making the road slippery and muddy and hard on footpads. Passing Chick Springs we reach Greenville, S. C., an hour before sunset. This is a beautiful place and appears lovely in our eyes. Slept in the hospital, finding an empty room. This was originally the Goodlett House. The little city seemed to feel the palsying effect of war. The hum of the street traffic was hushed, the clang of the forge, the busy bustle of the market, all was silent now. Wart War! Cities, towns, and lands, all wither under his frowns.

Saturday, April 29-Rose early, walked around to view Greenville. Conclude to lie over and rest a day. Were kindly treated by the good people of the city. Found a place to draw rations and got a two days' supply. A good lady, a refugee from Charleston, volunteered to cook up our flour for us which we accepted as a Godsend to us in our sore need. Those boys who had gone by Spartanburg to visit relatives rejoined us here and we are now together, just as we started. We ascertain that we can get a ride on the train from here and go to the depot in the evening to secure passage on next morning's train. Lots of rumors (Page 172) are afloat about the closing of the war, etc., but we give little heed to these things now, being too intent on reaching home. Some of the boys slept in the car to hold our seats and some on top of the car.

April 30-This is a delightful day, no clouds and the sun shines clear and bright. It is the Sabbath, but there is little to remind one of the fact that it is the Lord's Day. Paroled soldiers are to be seen on every hand, all intent on one purpose, namely, to reach home. They move about in bands and squads. Some are cheering, some singing, and all seem merry enough, especially at sight of the cars which were to bear them away toward that happy spot, home, sweet home. A rumor is afloat just as we are leaving the city that Kirkpatrick with his band of Yankee cavalry is advancing toward the city. We leave at 7:30 o'clock A. M. and reach Abbeville Junction at 12 M. and change cars for Abbeville, reaching latter place at 4 P. M. Drew a day's ration here of flour and one of meal and two of meat from the commissary-we can draw on our paroles. We take to the road again afoot, as this is as far as we can go by train, and walking five miles toward Washington, Ga., we are forced to stop by the approach of night. A Mrs. Donalds cooked our rations for us, and I learned that she was a sister to Maj. Jackson who married Miss Lucy Reavis, one of our town ladies whom we all knew (Page 173) well. Miss Lucy presented our silk flag to us in Gainesville, Ala. as we were leaving for the war, and now we meet so unexpectedly a sister to her husband away out he re in South Carolina. Slept on the ground that night beneath the smiling stars overhead.

May 1-Before it was light we were up and gone, and after a four-mile tramp we sat by the roadside and breakfasted from our haversacks. Fourteen miles farther we cross the Savannah River on a pontoon bridge into the great state of Georgia. Boys in good spirits. The car ride yesterday did them good and we push on toward Washington, Ga., where we expect another ride. At 12 M, passed through Danburg, a dusty, dilapidated little place with nothing apparently for sale except new corn whiskey, by the way, the worst thing on earth to come within reach of a Confederate soldier who can be tempted to dally with it. Traveled today thirty-six miles and camped a mile from Washington, Ga., in the woods under a tree; this was traveling some on foot.

May 2 -- Started early and after a mile's walk entered little Washington, a snug little village ensconced in the deep shade of inviting groves of spreading oaks. We are in a hurry too, wishing to make the depot before a train shall leave and sure enough we are just in time to see the five o'clock train pull out and leave us behind. But at nine o'clock there will be another going out and we sit (Page 174) down to wait for it. Getting aboard we start once more on our trip and overtake the 5 o'clock train which, ran off the track and blockaded the road so that we had to transfer to the regular gravel or work train, which carried us on to Barnett, too late for the Atlanta train, so we must wait again from 12 M. to 2 P. M. From Washington to Barnett, 18 miles. This latter is only a depot and a. few dwellings around, and where the branch to Washington connects with the Atlanta road. To Augusta, 58 miles, Atlanta 113. A freight came at 2 o'clock and we jot aboard a box car used for horses, one horse in it now, very odorous and disagreeable but better than walking. At Union Point our car is detached and left on the switch. We crowd in on another, and are packed in like sardines in a box. Reach Rutledge at dark, lie over until morning, sleep in a porch of a house standing near where our train is stopped. Our rations are out-hungry-no way to recruit our exhausted larder. For the first time one of our boys, Taylor Bradshaw, is quite sick. This cast a damper over our spirits.

May 3-At 4 o'clock A. M. we are up and resume our places in that box car. Nothing to eat and no way to help ourselves. The train waits until 7 before it leaves. Two heavily loaded trains with paroled soldiers come in from Augusta. At seven, following a train loaded with soldiers, we move out and are (Page 175) followed by another train loaded with paroled men. A tedious ride through a desolate country stripped by the Yankees, passing much railroad stock switched off into the woods to get it out of the way of the enemy-lone chimneys, the houses being burned away, smoldering ruins, deserted breastworks, and an occasional soldier's grave-we come at 4 o'clock P. M. to the ruins of Gate City --"Ilium Fuit"-so with this place. Here Joe Johnson was relieved of his command of the army and Gen. Hood was put in charge-here Sherman was successful and Atlanta fell- here the torch was applied and a lovely little city was laid in ashes and her sons and daughters were forced out penniless and homeless refugees to seek shelter among strangers

The pity of it! The shame of it! The burning disgrace of it! Here we draw rations again and were in sore need and again get aboard a boxcar for West Point. Rode all night reaching West Point about daylight. From Atlanta to West 87 miles.

May 4 --- Divided our company here at West Point into smaller bands so as to scatter out and get our rations cooked which we drew at Atlanta, preparatory for our further march. After a few hours here we are ready to move on. Had my shoes half-soled while we waited and by 9 o'clock we are ready to cross the Chattahoochee River. Everything at the river on the railroad has been destroyed. The (Page 176) bridge burned, track torn up, and the whole thing in ruins-the work of the Yanks. We cross the stream in canoes and some on the flatboat. As we cross we realize we are on our native soil and feel like giving three cheers for dear old Alabama. We are told that seven miles on the road we can get another ride on the cars, but on reaching this point we are disappointed as there are no trains running there now, and we go on to Cusseta, as every one we meet tells us we are sure to meet a car there. Were sadly disappointed again and gave up all hopes of a train and settled down to our regular walking gait. Taylor Bradshaw still unwell and we are uneasy for fear we may have to leave him. Three miles from Cusseta we stop for the night. Sleeping now on Alabama soil. Four years ago we left her with high hopes and merry hearts, now we return sad and filled with gloomy forebodings.

From May 4 to May 11 the leaves are gone from my diary, and after we reached Montgomery again there is a blank and I only rely on my memory for that part. I recollect that we passed through some very fine farming lands in Lownds County. The dwelling houses were as a rule large and more on the palatial order than any we had seen on our trip. The little town of Benton was in ashes, the work of vandals. (Page 177)

May 11-Woke early-washed my face for the first time in two days. Rushed to the train, secured a seat and sat in patience for the train to start feeling that now at last home is almost in reach. Some ladies came aboard the car and I reluctantly yielded to them my seat. Too bad! After walking from West Point, one hundred and sixty miles to secure it, now must give it up-but they didn't know it. I think I am mistaken about taking the train at Selma. I am pretty sure we walked to McDowell on west side of the Tombigbee River before we got on the cars. However, this is immaterial as the diary gives a very correct idea how we "Johnnie Rebs" got home from Appomattox after the Surrender. In due time we reach Livingston, Ala.

HOME AT LAST!

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Family Record and War Reminiscences
by William Frierson Fulton, Jr.
Livingston, AL, 1919
Transcribed by James W. Martin