HARPER'S FERRY AND FREDERICKSBURG

CHAPTER IX

"WHERE are we going now?" This is the question we ask each other as we hurry along on the soil of Maryland. We discuss it as we march and quite a number of theories are advanced, and if "Old Jack" had known how anxious we were to learn his destination I suppose he would have sent us word. But he didn't and we had to wait until we reached Frederick in Maryland. Here we rested several days and I recollect going into a man's Irish potato patch and grabbling a mess of potatoes. They were fine ones too, and I have often thought of how he planted those potatoes. He had evidently opened a deep furrow with his plow, planted his potatoes, and then filled the furrows with wheat-straw. The big potatoes were lying in this straw and all I had to do was to grabble in the straw and pull them out. They surely were good, as I had had nothing of the kind in a long while. Whittier, I think, has written a poem about Barbara Fritchey waving a banner (and a whole lot of stuff), as we passed through the streets of Frederick, which is fiction, pure and simple. Nothing of the kind ever occurred. (Page 75) Gen. Lee sent "Old Jack" to Harper's Ferry to capture the garrison there, whilst he with Longstreet's corps watched McClellan, who was now in command again. Pope, I suppose, had retired in disgust. Gen. Jackson always moved with alacrity when he had work to do, so be moved away from Frederick and we soon discovered that our faces were turned toward the Potomac. "Whither now?" "Who can tell?" Anyway we were going toward Virginia and we liked the idea as we were not particularly fond of the idea of invading Maryland. We crossed the Potomac, entered Martinsburg and soon learned that we were taking Harper's Ferry in the rear and that our destination was to capture the garrison there. Sure enough we closed in on the place and found that other troops had come in on all sides and we had the place completely invested. Now the next question was, will they surrender without a fight? I remember how we drew in our lines close up to their breast-works, every preparation being made for an assault, and I for one was dreading to go up against those works and my heart was full of anxious thoughts until the glad news came that they had capitulated and we wouldn't have to charge the works after all. What a relief it was! Sure enough eleven thousand men with immense supplies and seventy-three pieces of artillery fell into our hands without a struggle. Gen. Jackson immediately re (Page 76) crossed the Potomac and rejoined Lee who was in a death grapple with McClellan at Sharpsburg on the Antietam Creek in Western Maryland. Here was fought the bloodiest single day's battle of the war. My battalion had been detached from the brigade at Harper's Ferry and left there in charge of the supplies and artillery to ship them off to Richmond, and so we were not at Sharpsburg. Those seventy-three pieces of artillery made a beautiful sight in our eyes and we felt largely repaid for the weary marches we had taken before they came into our possession. After the battle at Sharpsburg our army crossed the Potomac again and encamped around Winchester. Gen. McClellan sent a force across the river as if he intended pursuit, but our division, A. P. Hill's, met them at Boteler's Ford and drove them back into the river with great loss. McClellan had planted seventy large cannon on the riverbank to protect his men in crossing, and they rained grape and canister shot on our men. But they rushed to the charge and literally hurled the Federals into the waters of the Potomac and shot them as they waded for the other bank. This put an end to the pursuit, if any was intended. We stayed in camps long enough to get well rested, and were sent finally on the 18th of October to destroy the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. A brigade would march along be-side the railroad track, halt, stack arms, and (Page 77) then the work of tearing up began. The crossties were piled high, the iron rails laid across, and fire kindled under the heap. The irons being heated red-hot would bend of their own weight all out of shape. Soldiers found pleasure in taking the red-hot irons, hot only in the middle, and bend them around saplings, sometimes wrapping them clear around. Our corps stretched out a long distance, and over thirty miles of track was destroyed in an incredibly short time.

My memory is a little treacherous here, for I can't recall with distinctness our march to Fredericksburg. I think, however it was on this march that I witnessed a -grand sight. Our corps and wagon train was stretched out in a long line, winding in and out in serpentine curves, as it moved along across the valley; its head half way up the Blue Ridge Mountains and its tail stretching back for miles down the valley. I was away up on the side of the mountain with' the front column and I remember looking back on the wonderful sight behind and below me. The long line of troops with their muskets gleaming in the sunlight were moving along in graceful curves as the road would bend to left and right, and the wagon train with their white cloth coverings and the ammunition wagons with black tarpaulin covers, all combined to make a sight seldom witnessed in a lifetime. I gazed on it a long time before moving onto (Page 78) overtake my command. The infantry line reminded me of some huge serpent gracefully slipping along the ground, intent on overtaking his prey and crushing it in its coils. We reached Fredericksburg and went into camp on the extreme right of Gen. Lee's line near what was called "Hamilton's Crossing." Winter was now on and we made the best preparations we could to ward off the cold. Every mess would make its own provisions to secure what comfort it could against the winter. Our mess stretched our ten; built a stick and dirt chimney at one end with a rock and dirt fireplace. The chimney was capped off with an empty flour barrel which made a very good top-stem. The whole thing worked admirably and we were very proud of it all when finished, and with a good stick fire we could bid defiance to old Boreas, no matter how cold he blew. Now this might appear to one as rather cramped quarters and impossible to afford much comfort, but it didn't strike us that way at all. We were very happy and content in this tent with our improvised and unpatented chimney and fireplace, if the "Yanks" would only let us alone. This they would not do. Gen. McClellan had been removed from command as he was too slow and could not keep up with such men as Lee, Longstreet and Jackson; and general Burnside had assumed the responsibility of conducting the army of the Potomac to Richmond on the James. He (Page 79) with 120,000 men occupied the heights on the Stafford side of the Rappahannock. As McClellan had been removed for being too slow, Burnside no doubt wished to ingratiate himself in President Lincoln's favor by being more expeditious in his movements. So on the 12th of November he crossed the river and threw his soldiers against Lee's left, but it was like throwing stones against the side of the mountain expecting to remove it from its base. His onsets were easily repulsed and with terrible slaughter. At no time in all his attacks did his men ever get near enough to our lines to make it really interesting. No other battle of the war was so one sided. Our men were not in the least inconvenienced by the enemy's charges and drove them back with ease. We on the extreme right were little disturbed except by the heavy artillery fire. They ran out their batteries and searched our position carefully with their cannon, but we lay perfectly quiet and our artillery made no reply. A large force under Gen. Franklin discovering a gap in our line between our brigade (Archer's) and Gen. Greg's South Carolina Brigade entered it, and for a time things looked squally. Our brigade was thrown back and was obliged to change front to meet this unexpected move, and a fresh brigade coming up to our help at the same time Franklin's advance was quickly checked and he soon began a retrograde movement which was some (Page 80) what faster than his advance had been, and our lines were again reformed with this gap properly filled in this time. The reason this gap had been left at first was because there was a marsh there and it was considered out of the question for troops to pass over. But this proved to be a mistake as Franklin quickly detected it and did pass his men over it with ease. There was an old man, a Federal, wounded in this engagement and captured, and his son was captured with him. Next day the old man died, and his son took two empty flour barrels and made a coffin and buried his father and marked the grave. This to me was quite a unique way of meeting emergencies. Major Pelham of Stewart's cavalry, in command of a battery of artillery, was to our right, in fact on the extreme right of our army. With his guns out in the open field he maneuvered and managed his guns so gallantly as to attract the attention of the commanding general and his splendid conduct on this occasion has gone into history as one of the most remarkable displays of bravery during the war. He was an Alabama boy, from Talladega, a graduate of West Point, and though only a boy in years he distinguished himself on every field of battle and had he lived would no doubt have reached high promotion. He was killed in a cavalry charge, riding in the forefront of the charge, cheering his men until he fell dead from his horse. (Page 81) His brother and I were schoolmates at Oglethorpe at the inception of the war. We both survived the terrible conflict and have had the pleasure of meeting again and talking over our experiences since the cessation of hostilities and occasionally a letter passes between us.

I was promoted to the rank of Commissary Sergeant about this time, and I will state the duties of this office. Of course the Commissary Department of the army was thoroughly organized. The commissary chief of the army, the Corps Commissary, next the Division, the Brigade, the Regimental which was the lowest. This last ranked as captain. Our command not being a regiment in full, having only four companies, we ranked as a battalion commanded by a major, and the commissary officer only ranked as a sergeant. But he was entitled to a horse to ride, which was a considerable item in those strenuous times, and having to look after the rations of his command he didn't have to go in the line of battle where those minnie balls were as thick as gnats in a Southern swamp in the summer time. However, it was not a soft snap - - far from it. The sergeant must always keep in touch with his command keep a correct list of the men in line so as to make out his requisition for rations intelligently and correctly. When some are killed or wounded (Page 82) they are dropped from the ration list. He must also be always in touch with the brigade commissary chief, and his wagon train, so as to know when and where to secure his rations for the men. An army on the march often has it drove of beeves and flock of sheep and at night these are slaughtered and dressed by the butchers. No matter how dark or dismal or disagreeable the night, when the time arrives for a distribution of rations the work goes on, and each commissary officer must be at his post to attend to his part. They pass on down from the commissary chief to the lowest in the rank and through him they reach the men in the ranks. The regimental and battalion commissaries always have a detail of men from the companies, who report to the brigade commissary, and as the rations are weighed out here they are turned over to these details who carry them into their regimental or battalion quarters where they are weighed and divided among the companies. Now suppose it is night and the rain is pouring down and the men have been on a hard march all day, tired and sleepy and mad, and the heavens are as black as ink. The commissary officer must get out his detail of men, pilot them through the rain and dark to the brigade commissary and after they are loaded up with beef, flour, and maybe a few extras, he must pilot them back to camps; and once there all must be cut up, weighed and measured to each company. (Page 83) Often the companies are so overcome with sleep after their hard day's work that it is difficult to arouse them and get them to come for their allotment. So it can readily be seen that it was not a sinecure by any means. Had it not been for that horse to ride and the comparative safety of the position I presume I would have thrown it up and gone back to the ranks.

My brigade being on the right of Gen. Lee's line at Fredericksburg was only partially engaged and lost only a few men. As already stated, a short encounter with Franklin's corps was the only part we had in the battle. Had Burnside attacked our position he would have regretted it, for we were admirably situated. Our position was naturally a strong one and the line of battle was well arranged. We had become adepts in battle formation and knew by instinct when it was a good one and when it was not. If the line was not properly formed there was sure to be a protest form the men, which in turn would attract the attention of the officers, and the defect would be speedily corrected if possible. Many things connected with camp life might be told, and would no doubt prove interesting, but it would take up too much space to speak of them. One winter, when a big snow lay on the ground, the army amused itself with snowballing. Regiments and sometimes even brigades would go out from camp, command- (Page 84) ed by their officers, and attack an adjoining camp in military style, by front and flank movements, and so headlong would be the attack that often they ran their opponents out of their encampment, capturing their cooking utensils and bearing them off in triumph to the mortification of the party thus despoiled. It was all done in sport and seldom viewed in any other light by those engaged. Of course camp-life involved generally daily drills, inspection of arms and quarters, music by the bands, many interesting martial scenes, drum beats, tattoo, reveille, etc. While we were encamped near Orange Court House, Gen. Lee had a grand review of his army. It was a grand sight to me. His entire command was paraded in a large open plain. Every branch of the service was represented, and the officers of all ranks were in their positions. As the different commands assumed their positions and the entire formation was adjusted, it looked grand and imposing. Mrs. A. P. Hill, the wife of our Gen. Hill, accompanied by several ladies, drove up in an army ambulance drawn by four horses. They stopped immediately in the rear of our command, where Mrs. Hill could get a commanding view of the magnificent scene. We soon ascertained that the wife of our loved commander was in the ambulance and all had a desire to see her. It was whispered along the line that some officer should request her to grant us that (Page 85) favor, and Capt. Porter, a rather pompous young officer from Calhoun County, Ala., assumed the role. With his cap in one hand and his sword in the other he approached the ambulance, and making his best bow and a military salute with his sword, he said, "The Fifth Alabama Battalion wishes to see Mrs. A. P. Hill. Will you be so kind as to show yourself at the door?" This may have been altogether out of place-I do not know about that-it actually occurred. And Mrs. Hill, in a flash, poked a little dog out of the window remarking as she did so, "This is the general's favorite." We laughed at Capt. Porter's expense, but failed to see the general's wife. (Page 86)

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