I REACHED home and found the war spirit aflame on every hand. Nothing else thought of or talked about. People seemed desperate and many were anxious for it to commence, seeming to prefer the actual thing to the suspense that hung over the hearts of all. In the spring of 1861 a company was organized at Gainesville, Ala., composed of young men and boys from Warsaw, Ala., and the vicinity of Gainesville. It was name "North Sumter Rifles." Sab Vandegraaf was elected captain, Jas. Winston, 1st, Husted, 2d and Wade Ritter, 3d, lieutenants. The company procured tents and went into camp in an old field a few miles northwest of Gainesville. Two cadets from the University at Tuscaloosa came over and took charge to perfect us in the manual and drill. These two young men were perfect gentlemen and soon won the confidence of every man and they had the satisfaction of seeing those farm boys taking to the evolutions like ducks to water, and it wasn't long before all were pretty proficient in "Hardees Tactics." We were here for some two months, probably, and the girls of the surrounding country, many of them with sweethearts in the company, would visit us daily. These were the happy days of our camp life. (Page 39) Free from every care, with only a few drill hours daily to bother us, with the pretty girls calling on us every day, of course we enjoyed it. After becoming quite efficient in our drill work, and war having been declared by the firing on Fort Sumter in S. C., April 12, 1861, orders were received from Richmond, Va., the capital of the Confederacy to take the train (Mobile and Ohio) for Manassas. The long expected had happened, but it produced great excitement among us and our friends. It was exactly what we wanted and expected, and many of us, myself among the number, were afraid it would end before we got there. Yet the idea of separation from dear and loved ones cast a damper over our exuberant spirits. We were too much enthused to be very serious and yet there were moments when we felt some sad forebodings which cast a shadow over our bright skies. The company was paraded in full equipment in front of Col. McMahon's big hotel, The "American", in Gainesville, each member armed with guns picked up at home, mostly old squirrel guns. Our banner was a beautiful silk one, with a strutting game-cock worked in the center, the gift of Miss Lucy Reavis, the talented daughter of Judge Reavis. This was a memorable scene. About ninety young men, the pick and flower of the county standing there in line with merry laughter and jest on their lips, all lighthearted, about to bid adieu to friends, rela (Page 40) tives, and boyhood associations and all that rendered life happy, many of them, alas, forever. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and sweethearts were all there looking on, many of them in tears, for really they were the only ones who realized the Solemnity of the hour. Our captain called us to attention and after putting us through the manual for the benefit, I suppose, of the spectators, and going through a certain amount of ceremony, the command to "break ranks" was given, and every one was at liberty to go at will until recalled. We understood it to mean that we were to speak the farewell word to loved ones, and this, I am sorry to say after a lapse of half a century, was performed by many of us boys in a spirit of levity. Alas! Alas! We could not know what awaited us in the near future. Soon the company was called to "attention", the line reformed and we started on our first march from Gainesville, Ala., to Scooba, Miss., where we were to take the M. & 0. train for Virginia. As we started through the street from the American Hotel, private Hill was blowing his fife at the head of the column to the tune, "The Girl I left Behind Me", while Ned Fargo and Pat Murphy kept time with their drums. Our hearts were light that day and beat in sympathy with the tune, and compared with the hundreds of marches through Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Maryland following the fortunes of A. P. Hill's (Page 41) Light Division and Jackson's Corps, this was probably the merriest of them all. That sounds strange to me now, an old man, but the blood runs swift and warm in youth and we then live more in the present and cast forebodings to the winds. Perhaps few of the old comrades amid the exciting scenes of Virginia ever thought again of this scene. All along the route jests and jibes were the order of the day, and it was more like going to a picnic than to war. When we reached Scooba we had to wait for the train several hours, and as we stepped around the depot with our leggins buttoned tightly from the ankle to the knee, a drunken fellow staggered up and steadying himself against a post exclaimed, "What in thunder is them things on you fellows' legs?" Suddenly a bright idea dawned upon him and he shouted, "I'll he. ... if they ain't pantlets." He laughed aloud at his own joke, and we joined in. Leaving Scooba we went to Corinth, Miss. This was the rallying point for soldiers from Mississippi, Arkansas and Alabama. A great many were already gathered there from these states, and had gone into camp forming into regiments and brigades, and exercising daily in drill-work preparatory to the work of carnage just a little way ahead. But they, like we, were not taking it to heart, but on the contrary were looking out for the merry side of the thing. We did not tarry there long, but were soon on the cars again for Lynchburg, a (Page 42) trip never to be forgotten. It was like a Fourth of July excursion from start to finish. Everybody seemed to be out for the fun there was in it, and there was no trouble finding it in everything that presented itself. At every station along the entire route the pretty girls were out in full force to see the soldier boys pass by. With their pretty dresses, gay ribbons, rosy cheeks, and bewitching smiles, of course we raised the "Rebel Yell." We were young, the most of us in our "teens", and were susceptible to their charms, and as we came in sight of a depot all were on the "qui vive" and at the first glimpse of the living bouquet, caps and handkerchiefs were waved, and there was every demonstration of joy until the train carried us out of sight. At some points the ladies would have a basket lunch prepared, and as our appetites were keen these refreshments were like the manna to the children of Israel. At Liberty in Virginia the train stopped long enough for us to detrain and partake of a royal meal prepared by the good women of that section. Buttermilk, apple pies, fried chicken, were spread out in abundance, and though it has been fifty years ago I vividly recall it all.