Rambling Anecdotes

[FL-Flinter]

Let me clarify that sawdust post....

It works when used as the abrasive, when combined with soap it works better. It's less irritating than pumice but does the same function for getting the ground-in crud off your hands. When combined with dish detergent lather, the saw dust does a better job of cleaning off engine/diesel dirt than most of the expensive hand cleaners.

First reply made it sound like that's all I used... nope, there's soap added and I don't strain my dust either, it's a one-time use thing.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Eight Cents

or kick the brat out.

SAVANNAH [GA] REPUBLICAN, January 24, 1861, p. 1, c. 1
A Sensible Landlord.—An exchange says: A little incident transpired some time ago, at one of our hotels, which is worthy of notice.
A little girl entered the bar room and in pitiful tones told the keeper that her mother had sent her there to get eight cents.
"Eight cents!" said the keeper.
"Yes, sir."
"What does your mother want with eight cents? I don't owe her anything."
"Well," said the child, "father spends all his money here for rum, and we have nothing to eat to-day. Mother wants to buy a loaf of bread."
A loafer remarked to the bar-keeper to "kick the brat out."
"No," said the bar-keeper, "I'll give her the money, and if her father comes back again I'll kick him out."

Thanks for the clarification Fl-flinter. I can see where the sawdust would add an abrasive effect to help remove the dirt.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Robbing the grave

Hopefully they never went anywhere.

SEMI-WEEKLY NEWS [San Antonio, TX], November 17, 1862, p. 2, c. 1

A Worthy Example.

On Tuesday evening last we happened in at the long Hall, on the North side of Main Plaza in our city, and there saw a company drilling "for the war." This is a new company just raised, and no conscripts either. It is composed of men whose age would exclude them from military duty. The captain is an Octogenarian, and we would even now rather be after half dozen live Yankees than have him after us. He has an eye that does not need spectacles to draw a bead on a Yankee at a distance of 600 yards. This was the first meeting, we learn, of the Company, and it already numbers over sixty names. They meet twice a week, armed and equipped with guns, pistols and Bowie Knives and a supply of ammunition. The majority of the company are over fifty years of age—and among them we saw those who fought at San Jacinto, those who were of the forlorn hope of "Deaf Smith at the burning of the bridge,"—those who were in the Santa Fe expedition in the Mexican war, the millionare by the side of the poor man; those who have been Captains and Colonels, Judges, Senators, and Members of Congress, and who have sons and grandsons in the army,--all standing side by side, going through the drill of the soldier. It was a grand and noble spectacle, and one we shall never forget. Noble men,--they have passed through many a struggle already in this life, and are now volunteers in defence of their homes and families. All this speaks with a voice not to be mistaken, and woe be to an enemy that shall attempt to wrest from such patriots the homes and inheritance already sealed to them by their own blood.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Gawd should have struck down that place over a century ago.

DAILY CONSTITUTIONALIST [AUGUSTA, GA], April 26, 1864, p. 4, c. 2
Too Many Babies.—The San FranciscoBulletin, in an article, says that “dead babies are found of late in an abundance and quite appalling—they are found everywhere, on corners and in cellars. It seems impossible for a man to dig potatoes in a garden, or excavate a post gate in his front yard, without turning up some little innocent that has been dumped there without coffin or shroud. Yesterday the body of a baby was found lying at one of the wharves in a tin can. Had it not been for this crowning revelation, this article perhaps would not have been written. But when it comes to canning babies, putting them up, so to speak ’for exportation,’ as though they were oysters, shrimps, cauliflowers, green turtle, or jellies, it becomes time to remonstrate. Formerly children were scarce in California. If the supply has become so large that the domestic market is overrun, and foreign exportation has become a matter of expediency, the fact is surely worthy of mention. Last evening, too, the body of a child four or five years old, and apparently as many days dead, was found on Geary street, near Hyde. But this incident of simply finding these unbound and unclaimed little volumns [sic] is too common of late to excite attention or demand remark; it is only when they are canned that the inquiring and indignant pen claims a right to scratch the public ear.—Hermetically sealed babies, carefully prepared, to keep in any clime! What a label for a can, and what a libel on humanity!

 

[4V50 Gary]

Armor piercing bullets. Well, back in the days of iron claded knights, breastplates were proofed by firing a lead ball at it. That it only dented and not penetrate was the proof to the buyer that it was indeed safe from bullets. The race against armor and guns continued until armor was seen as obsolete. It was briefly resurrected early in the Civil War and that probably inspired a new bullet. Armor was quickly discarded by the soldiers as cumbersome and useless (most were easily penetrated by the common minie rifle). There's an example of it at Pamplin Historic Park (near Petersburg, VA). The best example of armor plate being used may be found in George W. Peck's book, How George W. Peck Put Down the Rebellion. Read it here at: George Peck Saved by armor link

[HOUSTON] TRI-WEEKLY TELEGRAPH, July 7, 1862, p. 2, c. 1
Sometime ago we published a letter from a Mr. Standifer, of Lampasas, giving a description of a new steel-pointed bullet that had been invented, and claiming Jno. Weaver as the inventor. We are just now in receipt of a communication from Major Isaac M. Brown, of Lampasas, who assures us that the invention belongs to Mr. Alfred Freeman, and he is entitled to the name of the ball. This bullet is remarkable for its penetrating qualities. At ten paces distance it was shot through ¼ inch slab iron, the ball penetrating one inch into the wood. At fifty-five steps, one of these balls penetrated seasoned burr oak 5 ½ inches. It is believed it will pass through the steel breast plates used by the enemy without difficulty. It is a great invention. Any one can make it.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Safe handling of firearms. Then and now, know where your bullet is going. Be sure of the backstop.

DAILY CONSTITUTIONALIST [AUGUSTA, GA], June 21, 1864, p. 3, c. 1
To All Whom It May Concern.—The following has been sent us without the name, which we always require, but from the importance of the facts contained in the communication we give it a place in our columns without vouching for their truthfulness. We have frequently alluded to the criminal practice of shooting on the river banks, thereby endangering the lives of the people on the Carolina side, especially our neighbors of Hamburg. We respectfully invite the attention of the civil and military authorities to these violations of our municipal laws:
Mr. Editor: We were glad to see that you had again called the attention of your civil authorities to what you mildly call “careless shooting,” but to us who hear, and to some of us to feel the force of these careless bullets it is something more. It is a downright outrage, not only against us but against the heretofore well governed city of Augusta, for we have complained often, and as often been promised redress, but as yet nothing done. If the civil power is insufficient to put an end to this reckless and criminal practice, we would call upon the military to discharge their duty in the matter, for soldiers and return guards fire whole volleys and are careless where they do so. Thus far one man has been struck on the cheek with a ball, and a kitchen on the river bank has been penetrated twice, these are the facts within our own knowledge. When then, we ask shall we be able to walk our streets or on our river bank without fear. This is a question to be answered at once, as it is one of vital interest to the people of
Hamburg.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Our soldiers and marines in Iraq have caught several insurgents who were disguised as women. Here's an example from the South.

DAILY CONSTITUTIONALIST [AUGUSTA, GA], August 2, 1864, p. 3, c. 1
An Anti-Conscript.—An individual of the masculine gender, arrayed in apparel peculiar to feminine gender, was picked up in this city yesterday by the Police. The individual aforesaid states that he is from Scriven County, Ga., that he was formerly a member of the 63d Georgia Regiment, but being under age was discharged from the service, that he came to Augusta to see his Aunt, and fearing the Conscript officer, clothed himself in female apparel. The counterfeit was too shallow. “Them [illegible]! those voice!” as Artemus Ward has it, betrayed the youth, who says he is under 17 years of age, and he will doubtless be turned over to either Uncle Jeff’s or Cousin Joe’s Enrolling officer—the very party to avoid when the disguise was adopted.

 

[4V50 Gary]

It would be interesting if a corroborating account could be found in the antebellum anecdote.

DAILY CONSTITUTIONALIST [AUGUSTA, GA], August 18, 1864, p. 1, c. 2
A Female Mallady [sic].—A re-union with an old friend with whom we campaigned several years ago, has brought to mind many pleasant memories. One of the most laughable and ridiculous was one that occurred to Maj. John L. Morgan, Quartermaster in this city. At Fort -----, where he was stationed, Indians visited constantly and in large numbers, making the place a familiar rendezvous. One evening the Major received from the Post office Department a large supply of Uncle Sam’s postage stamps, which he placed in a box in his quarters. These Indians were in the habit of going where they pleased, and appropriating anything that took their fancy. That evening, whilst the Major was absent on the parade ground, an Indian squaw, in prowling about the quarters, discovered the postage stamps. These creatures were not very luxurious or fastidious in their habits of dress, yet they would wear all the finery they could pile on. This squaw especially, whether because of poverty or choice, seldom wore any article of dress except a few brass finger and earrings.
In a few minutes she appeared on the parade ground with her naked body completely covered with United States postage stamps, admiring herself with much gusto. Screams of laughter greeted her appearance. The Major rushed to his quarters and discovered his loss, but he consoled himself by proposing that if she wished to be mailed, she should go through, as she was pre-paid to her full weight.—Atlanta Intel.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Ban the side saddle.

Now we have medical testimony to ban the side saddle.

NASHVILLE DAILY UNION, September 23, 1862, p. 1, c. 7

How Shall Ladies Ride?

In view of the increase of equestrian exercise among our ladies this becomes an important question. Dr. James C. Jackson, in his recent work on Consumption, contends that there are insuperable objections to the usual style of side-saddle riding. The position enforced by it, he argues, is injurious to the system, having a tendency to produce crooked spines, irritation of the spine, congestion of the lungs, and of the liver and kidneys. This is a formidable list of diseases, but it by no means, according to Dr. Johnson [scratch in film] the evils consequent on the usual style of riding. Truth to say, a lady's position on horseback can not be called a natural one—but what would you have? You wouldn't have a woman ride astride, would you? "Yes, I would," says the Doctor, and then goes on to show, by actual instances, that ladies [scratch in film] to ride at all in the present manner, owing to its hurting them so much, have become strong and well by riding as men ride. Mexican women ride astride, and the Doctor recommends that we adopt their "barbarism" in this respect. It only requires a pair of pantaloons, which, after all, many of the ladies have no insuperable objection to putting on! The Doctor confidently reckons on the coming of the time when men will see "what an outrageous abomination the present style of riding for women is, and it will pass into desuetude, and be reckoned among the follies of a previous day." So you see what you are coming to, ladies!

 

[4V50 Gary]

Buck and his turkeys.

NASHVILLE DAILY UNION, November 1, 1862, p. 3, c. 1

Capture of Turkey.

A military operation, involving a large amount of strategy, was reported to us the other day, which deserves at least an humble place in the history of this war. It seems that Buck, the well known porter at the Capitol, combining a desire for speculation, with a taste for ornithology, had invested divers and sundry dimes and quarters, which he had accumulated, in the purchase of several specimens of the popular domestic fowl known as the American Turkey, intending, doubtless, to reap a handsome per centage on their original cost, when their bodies should reach the proper degree of corpulency, and the blockade should render the purchase of even a turkey-buzzard, let along a simon-pure turkey; an impossibility. The plan and conception, so far as we are able to judge, were good, were faultless. We do not care indeed, as newspaper correspondents say, we do not feel authorized, to state the precise number of the turkeys purchased, but, we are not violating any confidence reposed in us, as the same wise men would say, in stating that at least an approximation to the true number may be attained by thrice counting the digits of one hand. Alas! for the uncertainty of all human speculation; the turkeys suddenly vanished. Their owner went one morning full of hope to feed his biped flock, and like Joseph and Simeon "they were not." who can blame Buck for uttering several words not to be found in the celebrated Theological Dictionary, published under his name! His fowls had been foully dealt with. His suspicions were directed immediately to a squad of soldiers quartered in a neighboring house, for he knew how fond college boys and soldiers are of turkeys; and obtaining the proper authority, he immediately instituted a search. The soldiers manifested a most laudable interest in assisting Buck, unlocking clothes-presses, trunks and valises; opening bureaus, looking into quart bottles, and under carpets, and, in fact, in every place where the abducted individuals would be most likely to be—not found. Buck wanted to go up into the loft, through a trap-door which he by chance espied. His military friends remonstrated; they assured him they were not there; that nobody but citizens of the United States could go up there; that turkeys were not citizens of the United States, and, of course, were not up there; and that, finally, by the Dred Scott decision, Buck was not a citizen, any more than the turkeys, and of course he couldn't go up. Besides, who ever heard or read, in ancient or modern history, of turkeys being cooped up in a garret? "Think of that, Master buck!" Buck insisted; they remonstrated; he fumed, they roared, until finally he vowed to summon the war department to the spot, and then they yielded. Buck jumped up on a table, and pushed up the trap-door, when mirabile dictu, two of his biggest turkeys, who had bee put out as pickets, peeped down in his face, and demanded the countersign! He gave it, and they "gobbled him up;" that is, they invited him to come up and reclaim his prisoners. He did so, although we grieve to say, that, close confinement, bad diet, military voracity, and sundry sales, had reduced their number to only five.

 

[4V50 Gary]

If you haven't been to Frederick, Maryland, then you've missed the Museum of Civil War Medicine. It's worth a visit and they've got a t-shirt that advertises embalming services. Anyhow, while perusing the papers, I found this.

NASHVILLE DAILY UNION, January 12, 1863, p. 1, c. 3

Embalming the Dead—A Process Practicable to All.

The modern processes by which the bodies of officers and soldiers of the army have been embalmed and restored to their friends is not the least of the blessings which science has bestowed upon the world since the beginning of the war. The expense of this process, in most cases, places its advantages beyond the reach of people of moderate means. Those who have adopted the business as a profession, are in some cases, extortionous in their charges, particularly where officers are the subjects; and the whole matter is surrounded by professional secrecy impenetrable to persons of unscientific tastes.
A matter of so great general utility and importance should not be monopolized or turned wholly to individual emolument. It may not be out of place to give, in this connection, a simple recipe by which any physician or surgeon of ordinary capacity can embalm the dead, and preserve them from decomposition or putrefaction for a length of time to answer all practical requirements. The following was handed to me shortly after the battle of Antietam, by the Medical Director of the Ninth Army Corps:
The liquid chloride of zinc injected into the cerebral or femoral artery, will preserve bodies from decomposition or putrefaction for a great length of time.
The mode of obtaining this liquid is to take (say) one quart of hydrochloric acid to an earthen vessel, and add small pieces of zinc until reaction ceases.
The liquid may be diluted in the proportion of one part to four of water. From one quart to three pints of this dilution chloride of zinc will be sufficient to effect the purpose desired.
H. W. Rivers,
Surgeon of Volunteers, and Medical Director
Ninth Army Corps.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Meade, the "old fool" at Gettysburg

July 3, Gettsyburg. George Meade was the commanding officer of the Union's Army of the Potomac. They were engaged in a desperate battle against Robert E. Lee's seemingly invincible Army of Northern Virginia. Battery H was on Cemetery Hill when Meade happened to visit. Private Parmelee recalled it.

Gen. Meade, attended by only one officer, appeared among our guns, on foot, saying to our officers that this point must be held at all hazards. When the cry went round that the ammunition was getting short, Gen. Meade picked up a shell, stepped up to a gun, asking if it could not be used." Just then William H. Styer, a beardless 19-year old corporal from Marietta serving as No. 6 with Gun Detachment C, rushed forward with several projectiles. "Seeing someone in his way," Parmelee continued, "he grabbed him by the arm, saying, 'Out of the way, you old fool,' and clapped a shot into the gun. Gen. Meade retired in good order, smiling, we supposed, at the boy's earnestness. Accidents of battle gave him an Irish promotion to 'powder monkey' when this occurred. When told [later] how he had treated the commanding General he could not believe it." Steyr finished the war as the battery's first sergeant.

 

[4V50 Gary]

The tracker

I've no fondness for Dugout Doug who fired on the Bonus Marchers in Washington. However, I do give him credit where due.

Many of the escapes didn't actually make their breaks from the island but instead waited until assignment to work details at other posts; getaways were much easier from the mainland. the year 1877 was especially notable, when no fewer than nine prisoners escaped from work assignments at Point San Jose.
A young officer recalled one such escape attempt in his memoirs. Recently graduated from the Military Academy, the new lieutenant was spending a summer-long furlough with his family in San Francisco. "A prisoner engaged in work at Fort Mason, where we lived, had escaped. He was a burly fellow armed with a scythe, and great consternation reigned in the post... It was none of my business, but I had tracked trails too often with the Apaches not to pick up this one. His hiding place was easy to locate, and I had him covered before he had a chance to make a move. When I turned him over to the guard, he just spat at me and snarled, 'You damn West Pointers!'" - 2nd Lt. Douglas MacArthur, Class of '03.

The island mentioned is Alcatraz. Most folks don't know that Alcatraz was a military fort from the Civil War up until 1934. It served only 29 years as a federal prison and closed in 1963. However, most people remember "The Rock" as a prison where Al Capone or Robert Stroud (The Birdman of Alcatraz) were housed.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Interesting observation

from a regular army officer who was sent to Missouri early in the Civil War.

The Kansas Volunteers were a peculiar organization; brimful of patriotism and inured to hard service, and a rough life, they were utterly lacking in discipline and in many respects difficult to manage. The officers except in the higher grades were of the same class as the men, and all hands seemed to regard the expedition in the light of a foray on their ancient enemy-the State of Missouri. For more than six years continual hostilities had been breaking out between the free state men in Kansas and the pro-slavery element in Missouri,-or as they were generally called, the jay-hawkers and the border-ruffians. Between the two I fancy there was alittle to choose in point of vindictiveness. Each had bitter wrongs to avenge and neither was slow in visiting condign punishment on the other's territory. Now that we were regularly encamped in Missouri, with an apparently irrestible force, the Kansas men seemed to think they had a perfect right to treat the inhabitants as conquered enemies, and levy on their property indiscriminately. If this had been allowed to go on, a perfect reign of terror would shortly have existed in the State and neither age nor sex would have been safe for a moment. The regular troops would have soon become demoralized by the example of their comrades, and the condition of Missouri would shortly have equalled that of France in the days of the Free Companies.

The passage was written by Lt. George B. Sanford (who retired as a colonel) and may be found on page 125 of the book, Fighting Rebels and Redskins, edited by E. R. Hagemann.

 

[4V50 Gary]

I was a bit shocked to learn that it was used. I knew about buck 'n gag, barrel shirts, riding the horse, being tied to the wheel, standing on the platform, standing on the chimes, being tied up by the thumbs, carrying the rail, sweat box, being shaved and drummed out of camp (Rogue's March), hanging, firing squad, but lashing? Here's what I found on page 126 of Fighting Rebels and Redskins:

"Two men of the Volunteers had been tried by Court Martial for robbing a house, and were sentenced to a certain number of lashes on the bare back in the presence of the whole command. We were drawn up in a hollow square, the criminals were brought to the centre, and the sentence of the Court read to them. Then they were tied up to the spare wheel of a caisson and the lashes vigorously administered by the drummers, the military surgeon standing by."

 

[oldbillthundercheif]

This quote;

The regular troops would have soon become demoralized by the example of their comrades, and the condition of Missouri would shortly have equalled that of France in the days of the Free Companies.

got me digging for information on "the days of the Free Companies".

I found this:

"The Career of Bastot de Mauléon, Man-at-Arms and Brigand"
http://www.nipissingu.ca/department/history/muhlberger/froissart/mauleon.htm

The first time I bore arms was under the captal de Buch at the battle of Poitiers: by good luck I made that day three prisoners, a knight and two squires, who paid me, one with the other, four thousand francs. The following year I was in Prussia with the count de Foix and his cousin the captal, under whose command I was. On our return, we found the duchess of Normandy, the duchess of Orleans, and a great number of ladies and damsels, shut up in Meaux in Brie. The peasants had confined them in the market-place of Meaux, and would have violated them, if God had not sent us thither: for they were completely in their power, as they amounted to more than ten thousand, and the ladies were alone. Upwards of six thousand Jacks were killed on the spot, and they never afterwards rebelled.

And that's just the start...

 

[4V50 Gary]

The Shrine of Bacchus

Post battle looting can be rewarding - if you find something useful. Here's the story of one cavalryman who struck gold and an artilleryman who struck out.

Nearly all the wreckage was strewn on the west side of the pike, yet we found one wagon on the east side that was standing with the fore wheels in a deep impassable ditch. When we got to it a lone cavalryman was standing in the hind part of the wagon, pounding on a barrel head with a tone. Our first conclusions were that the barrels contained pickled pork, and awaited patiently the cavalryman's successful assault in gaining access to its contents, as a good chunk of pickled pork would have been a very acceptable and highly appreciated prize, for my external haversack was entirely empty and the internal one almost in the same fix. It did not take long for our gallant beating cavalryman to "strike ile." When I heard the barrel head splash into something liquid the delighted cavalryman exclaimed, "Whiskey, by George!" and I saw him bow down a willing worshiper at this lowly shrine of Bacchus, and he sampled without cup or canteen mirth inspiring contents of a full barrel. There were ten barrels in the wagon. I did not want any to be joyful on an empty stomach, I had no canteen, my twenty minutes' leave of absence had about expired, and the rosy glow of fading twilight was fast changing into the sable shades of the night, so I struck a bee-line for the battery, with nothing but four blue coats that I had no use for.

 

[scrat]

Gen. Enoch's And A. D. Crossland's Experiences

Ironton Register, Thursday, December 2, 1886





"I suppose you have observed that the REGISTER is giving some "Narrow Escapes" of the boys in the war, Gen. Enochs?"


"Yes, indeed," said the General, "I read them with a great deal of interest. They are a good thing. They remind me of what Gen. Hayes said to me at Portsmouth, during the reunion. He remarked that the real history of the war has not yet been written; and will not be, until the boys have a chance to tell their personal experiences."


"Well now," said the reporter, "that’s just what I am after, a "narrow escape" from you."


"Oh, I have none worth relating. I was in a great many battles and met danger with the rest of the boys, but I have no distinctively romantic escape to relate. My narrowest escape was where I didn’t altogether escape. It was at the battle near Winchester, on the 19th of September 1864--Sheridan’s first great battle in the Shenandoah Valley. You remember the engagement began about noon. The 19th corps was on the left; the 6th corps in the center and the Army of West Va. on the right, and my regiment, which I commanded that day, was on the extreme right of the whole line; that is, of the infantry line. Custer’s and Merritt’s divisions of cavalry still covered our flanks."


"Well, we had driven the rebel forces gradually from the start; and they were very hard to drive as they fought behind the stone fences which abound in that country. It was on toward five o’clock in the evening, and the rebel lines had been driven back from every point except where the artillery was planted, which was a strong position. Their cannon was doing fearful execution, and the musketry from that quarter was very severe. Gen. Duval, who commanded our brigade, had fallen, and the ranks were much shattered. I had lost my horse in a swamp soon after the fight commenced and so was afoot in the battle. Things were in a turmoil and confusion; nobody seemed to be directing our brigade or division, so I took hold of our end of the line myself, and ordered an assault on the rebel artillery. I thought we wouldn’t be killed any faster going ahead than standing still. Then the enemy opened on us furiously. Our line as it advanced had a very ragged edge to it. It was made up almost without any order as to regiment, a dozen regiments being represented, in some parts of the line."


"As we approached the rebel position, I happened, at one moment, to be looking down the line, awfully anxious about its maintaining itself, when my "narrow escape" came to me in the form of a minnie ball, and down I went, to figure, as the comrades around me supposed, among the list of the killed. And I would have thought so too, possibly, if I had not been knocked senseless. There I lay insensible, for some time, but finally regained my thoughts, to find that I couldn’t see. I was blind as a bat for over an hour; but during that little period, I felt about to ascertain the extent of my wound, and found a ball sticking in the side of my head about two inches above the right ear. It had gone through my hat band and flattened against the skull, which it bruised badly, and to which it stuck until I pulled it off. The first man who discovered I wasn’t dead was Lewis Neff, of Rome township, who gave me a drink from his canteen."


"That was indeed, a very close shave," said the reporter, "but what of the charge on the artillery?"


"Oh, that was the best part about it," said the General--"the boys went right on, and captured the rebel works; and that did as much as any other one thing that day to give us the victory. The next day, I was all right and took command of my regiment again."


"Where’s the ball?" asked the reporter.


"I carried it for a couple years after, but finally lost it," replied the General; "but I can recollect everything about that fight without the ball as a reminder. It struck me too forcibly to ever be forgotten."

 

[scrat]

Mayor Corns' Experience #1

NARROW ESCAPES
SOME EXCITING WAR EXPERIENCES NO. 1


MAYOR CORNS' EXPERIENCE


Ironton Register, Thursday, November 18, 1886





[Under the above head we propose to publish a series of articles, or rather interviews with old soldiers, giving details of narrow escapes while in the service. We well print them as long as the boys keep us posted with startling personal experiences or our interviewer can gather them in.-- Ed. Reg.]


"What was your ‘narrow escape’ in the army?" we asked of Mayor Corns, of the old Second Va. Cavalry, as he stood smoking his morning stoga, before the big cannon stove of his office, last Monday.


"Oh, I had several that I thought was pretty narrow-- narrow enough to make my flesh creep when I even think of them now."


"But," said we, "what was the little the worst fix you got into while serving Uncle Sam?"


"Well, sir, about the worst fix," replied the Mayor, and he laughed and shuddered at the same time, "was when our division under Custer attacked Fitzhugh Lee, on the evening after the battle of Sailor’s Creek-- that was the 7th of April, 1865, two days before the surrender at Appomatox. Lee was trying to get off with a big wagon train, and Custer had orders to intercept him and capture the train if possible. Just at nightfall, we caught up with Fitzhugh Lee’s cavalry, down there not very far from Farmville. The enemy had gone into camp for the night. They were in the woods and had thrown up piles of rails as a protection against attack. We had a heavy line of skirmishes which were soon driven in, and then, having discovered the enemy’s line, Custer ordered a general charge. There were about 7000 cavalry and we went in with a rush, but after a bitter little fight we were repulsed. We ran into a ditch or drain in the charge and that upset our calculations. We piled into that ditch with considerable confusion and were glad to get out, without bringing any rebs with us. Our lines were soon reformed and another charge sounded. It was then after dark, but the moon was shining brightly. It was an open meadow over which we charged, and save the drain, was a pretty place for a cavalry fight, for those who liked that kind of business."


"After the charge was sounded and we were on full gallop, lo and behold the enemy was charging too, and the two divisions of cavalry met in a hand to hand fight in the middle of the plain. It was an awfully mixed up affair. We couldn’t tell friend from foe half the time. We had been on the go so much that our blue uniforms were dust-colored and about as gray as the rebels’. It was the biggest free fight ever I got into, and every fellow whacked away and tried to kill every fellow he came to. It happened, however, that I got in with a little squad of six or eight of our boys, and we kept together until we found ourselves completely within the enemy’s lines, with the rebs’ banging away all around us. Our army was getting the best of the fight, and gradually pushing the rebs back, and of course we went back with the rebel line. It looked scaly for us. I saw Johnny Connelly near me and said to him, "This is a bad fix--we must get cut of this." And he said, "Yes, and here are five or six others of us right near." I got them together, for I was a Lieutenant commanding a company, and said, "Boys, we must charge to the rear and join our army," and one of the boys said, "Here goes," and started, and we were all about to put after him, but just as I started, a reb who was just in front of me, and who I thought was one of our boys, whirled around and, drawing his saber, called out, "Surrender, you d----d Yankee," at the same time bringing the saber down toward my head with fearful velocity. I dodged and the saber struck my shoulder, but did not cut the flesh as I had on an overcoat with a bear-skin collar. The blade went right through these, but stopped at the flesh, but it paralyzed my arm, which fell to my side. He did it so quickly that I had no time to parry. But missing my head, he quickly drew his saber for another stroke, and I would have got it the next time clean through my head, but just as the reb had the saber at its full height for another blow, a First N. Y. Cavalryman struck his carbine right against the fellow’s head, and exclaiming "Not this time, Johnny," blazed away and shot the reb.’s head just about off. Then we scampered to the rear, but hadn’t gone far when we got into the ragged edge of our own line and felt ourselves considerably safer. In getting out of there, three balls struck me, but I consider the narrowest escape, was when that New York Cavalryman stuck his carbine at the reb’s head and presented the blow which would have gone right through my head, as sure as fate. The narrowness of the escape was intensified by the fact that the war only lasted two days longer."
"Before we got out of there, Johnny Connelly was shot crazy, but I snatched his horse’s rein and got him within our lines. He was sent back to the field hospital and I never saw him since; but if ever I come across that N. Y. Cavalryman, I’ll take him home, set him down in the best rocking chair in the front parlor, and feed him on mince pie and roast turkey as long as he lives."


"Well, we drove Fitzhugh Lee back, captured his camp, and got a great many prisoners, a large proportion of whom were drunk. We found applejack by the bucketfuls all through the camp, but we were not allowed to touch a drop, though my arm hurt me terribly bad."


"Well, Mr. Corns, that was a ‘narrow escape.’"


"Narrow! Well, I should say so, and I sometimes have to feel up there to be sure my head ain’t split in two yet."

 

[4V50 Gary]

Rabbit Hunt

The following is a tale of a rabbit hunt by an artillery unit that went wrong.

Remaind in camp. this camp is nine miles southwest of Fredericksburg and right in a clearing full of dry pine brush piles and rabbits. In attempting to smoke out a rabbit some of our boys set the clearing on fire, and the whole company had to turn out and fight the roaring flames in order to save our pieces and harness from the ravages of the devouring conflagration. After the fire was subdued we took an invoice of our stock to ascertain the damages sustained, and found that we had lost nothing but a few bridles and one or two horse collars.

Needless to say, in the effort to subdue the flames, all the wascally wabbits escaped.