Life in the Confederate Army: Being Personal Experiences of a Private Soldier in the Confederate Army, and Some Experiences and Sketches of Southern Life — John Shaqi
Life in the Confederate Army: Being Personal Experiences of a Private Soldier in the Confederate Army, and Some Experiences and Sketches of Southern LifeFord, Arthur Peronneau
History
Life in the Confederate Army: Being Personal Experiences of a Private Soldier in the Confederate Army, and Some Experiences and Sketches of Southern Life
Ford, Arthur Peronneau
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives, Confederate
There is my company right ahead there, sir, and I always keep up with
it." My injured tone and evident sincerity struck the old man, and he
saluted me with the words, "I beg your pardon, sir," and rode on. He was
a courtly and knightly soldier, and a great favorite with the men.
We reached Bentonville at about 3 o'clock p. m., only a short time after
the battle had begun, and as we marched hurriedly along the road in the
direction of the firing we passed a number of wounded men coming to the
rear; and then several operating tables on both sides of the road, some
with wounded men stretched on them with the surgeons at work, and all of
them with several bloody amputated legs and arms thrown alongside on the
grass. The sight was temporarily depressing, as it foreshadowed what we
had to expect. But we hurried on, and our division halted for a few
moments on the ground from which the Federals had just been repulsed,
and there were quite a number of their dead and wounded lying about. One
of the Federal wounded, a lieutenant, begged us for some water, and I
stepped from the line and gave him a drink from my canteen. Others
begged me likewise, and in a few moments my canteen was empty. I knew
that this might result seriously to me, in case I should need the water
badly for myself, but I could not refuse a wounded man's appeal even if
he was my enemy; and one of our men, a thrifty fellow, who always
managed to have things, produced a little flask of whiskey, and gave a
good drink to a Federal who had his leg badly crushed. The blue-coat
raised his eyes to Heaven with, "Thank God, Johnnie; it may come around
that I may be able to do you a kindness, and I'll never forget this
drink of liquor." We were not allowed to remain long relieving the
suffering, but soon were called to "attention," and received orders to
create it, by an attack upon the enemy from our extreme right. At this
moment Maj. A. Burnett Rhett, of the artillery, rode along the line and
called out that news had been received that France had recognized the
Confederacy and would send warships to open our ports immediately. The
men cheered, few of us realizing that the end was so near. We were
blinded by our patriotism. There was Lee with his 30,000 men that moment
surrounded by Grant with his 150,000. Here was Johnston with his 14,000
trying to keep at bay Sherman with his 70,000, with the knowledge that
Schofield was only two days off with 40,000 more. And this was about all
there was to the Confederacy; and they talked of recognition! Oh, the
pity of it!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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