Memoirs of a Veteran Who Served as a Private in the 60's in the War Between the States: Personal Incidents, Experiences and ObservationsHermann, I. (Isaac)
History
Memoirs of a Veteran Who Served as a Private in the 60's in the War Between the States: Personal Incidents, Experiences and Observations
Hermann, I. (Isaac)
Confederate States of America. Army. Georgia Artillery. Howell's Battery; Confederate States of America. Army. Georgia Artillery. Martin's Battery; Confederate States of America. Army. Georgia Infantry Regiment, 1st (1861-1862); United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives
But I must not omit an incident that occurred when near our camp with
the load of provisions. I had to pass hard by the Twelfth Georgia
Regiment, which was camped on the side of the turn pike, when some of the
men who were as anxious for a change of diet as we were, came to me and
proposed to buy some of my provisions. I stated that they were sold and
belonged to Company E, First Regiment, and that I could not dispose of
them. Some Smart-Aleks, such as one may find among any gathering of men,
proposed to charge the wagon and appropriate its contents by force.
Seeing trouble ahead, I drew my pistol, when about a dozen men ran out
with their guns. Eagle turned pale, he thought his time had come, when a
Lieutenant interfered, asking the cause of the disturbance, which I
stated. He said, "Men, none of that, back with those guns." He mounted
the wagon and accompanied us to my camp, which was a few hundred yards
beyond.
CHAPTER IX.
Once later, I was called out for fatigue duty. I said, "Corporal, what
is to be done?" He answered, "To cut wood for the blacksmith shop." I
replied, "You had better get someone else who knows how, I never cut a
stick in my life," he said, "You are not too old to learn how." This was
conclusive, so he furnished me with an axe, and we marched into the
woods, and he said he would be back directly with a wagon to get the
wood and he left me. I was looking about me to find a tree, not too
large, one that I thought I could manage. I spied a sugar maple about
eight inches in diameter. I sent my axe into it, but did not take my cut
large enough to reach the center, when it came down to a feather edge
and I did not have judgment enough to know how to enlarge my cut by
cutting from above, so I started a new cut from the right, another from
the left, bringing the center to a pivot of about three inches in
diameter, as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar; finally, by continuous
hacking, I brought it to a point where I could push it back and forth.
The momentum finally broke the center, but in place of falling, the top
lodged in a neighboring tree, and I could not dislodge it. I worked
hard, the perspiration ran down my face, my hands were lacerated, I
finally got mad, and sent the axe a-glimmering, and it slid under the
snow. After awhile my corporal came for the wood; "Where is the wood?" I
showed him the tree; "Is that all you have done?" I could not restrain
any longer, I said, "Confound you, I told you I did not know anything
about cutting wood." "Where is the axe?" We looked everywhere but could
not find it; it must have slid under the snow and left no trace, so he
arrested me and conducted me before Colonel Edward Johnson, a West
Pointer, in command of the post. He was at his desk writing; turning to
face us, he addressed himself to me, who stood there, cap in hand, while
the Corporal stood there with his kept on his head. "What can I do for
you?" I said, looking at the Corporal. "He has me under arrest and
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