Part 2

I became a good rider, and before I left I was one of the best in the troop. I was well mounted upon a fine horse I named "Red Robin." I exchanged this horse for one called "Flying Ant," which was considered a very vicious and dangerous animal, as she had disabled two men before I took her in charge. I simply wished to show the company that I could manage her, and I did. She was a splendid horse. On leaving the cavalry for the infantry service I sold her, including my fine cavalry saddle and equipment, to a prominent man in Quincy, Florida, for fifty-five dollars in gold, which I was to receive in a few days, but which I never did.

In January, 1863, I joined the 1st Georgia Regulars as second lieutenant of Company B. The regiment had been ordered from Virginia to Georgia to recruit its ranks. From there they were ordered to Florida near the junction of the Chattahoochee and Flint rivers, and there I joined them.

I shall not attempt to give in detail my life in this regiment--its toils and privations, marches and battles. I shall only give incidents in our campaigns that are personal, and I may often with but a line pass over long periods of time.

At the time I joined the 1st Georgia, it was commanded by Major R. A. Wayne. The colonel, and lieutenant-colonel had been disabled by wounds and illness and never rejoined the regiment. Major Wayne became colonel. He was personally one of the most fearless men I have ever known. He was a gruff man, short and peremptory in manner, in camp disliked by his officers and men, but in time of battle, especially in great danger, commanding the respect of all.

During the spring and summer of 1863 we performed picket duty along the coast near the mouth of the Appalachicola River. This was useless from a military point of view, and our ranks were more decimated by malaria than if we had been in many battles. We were under the immediate command of General Howell Cobb. I have never been able to understand why he kept us there with the daily report of sickness and death. Oh! the chills and fever--and no quinine! This medicine, so necessary in the treatment of malaria, the enemy refused to pass into our lines. Three-fourths of our men and officers were prostrated, many of them dying. It was a shameful waste of life. The memory of the sufferings in those sickly camps will remain with me always.

My brother Tomlinson was the captain in Company L in the regiment. He was a good officer, beloved of his men and respected by the officers of the command. He had been wounded twice severely, in the Virginia campaigns, on the field of Malvern Hill he was left for dead with a wound in the chest from a piece of shell, and at Second Manassas with a ball through his leg. He was carried home from our camp on the Appalachicola River so wasted with malaria, that I never expected to see him again. All in the regiment were sick with this disease that summer and I felt the effects of it through the entire winter.

Early in 1864 we were ordered to march in all haste to Quincy, and from there to entrain to Lake City. We rejoiced to leave our sickly camp. Shortly before we left we were joined by a company of men, which had been raised in Savannah as a command to operate heavy artillery. They were men over fifty and boys under eighteen years of age. They presented a most unmilitary appearance in motley civilian clothes.

A large force of Federals had landed at Jacksonville and intended to march to Tallahassee and take possession of the State of Florida. Their cavalry were marching upon Lake City and were within a few miles of the city when we arrived. Our small battalion and a company of Florida cavalry were all the troops we had to receive them. About a mile from Lake City where we expected to meet the enemy we formed a line in the pine woods. Soon they were in sight, and, on seeing our skirmishers, dismounted and proceeded to attack us. It was a foggy morning and the enemy approached within seventy-five or one hundred yards before we perceived each other. I was given command of the skirmish line. I was instructed to try to draw them near to our line. Both sides commenced firing. Soon the mists rose. The enemy, seeing our line of battle, retreated with haste. They outnumbered us two to one. We lost no men. While walking along the line of skirmishers I was aware of bullets whistling near me, one going through my cap. Then I realized that the white blanket strapped to my shoulders made a target, I pulled it off and the firing, especially at me, ceased.

After this skirmish fighting our forces were joined by Colquitt's and Harrison's brigade and we marched forward at once and met the enemy on the ever memorable battlefield of Olustee. It was not the intention of our commanding officer, General Finnegan, to fight the battle where it was fought. About a mile to the rear our line of battle had been formed with a protection on one flank of Ocean Pond and a swamp on the other. A regiment was sent forward to entice the enemy to our line of defense; they became engaged and regiment after regiment was sent forward to support them until the engagement became general, resulting in a complete victory for our forces.

The battle of Olustee was fought in the open pine woods. The victory was attributed to the courage and determination of the soldiers. There were no special tactics or generalship displayed. It was simply a continuous charge of the enemy to break our irregular lines which had been formed behind logs and trees. In this strong position our regiment of one hundred and fifty men was at the extreme left, with a depression filled with logs in front. Here we remained many hours resisting every attack of the enemy, who were many times our number, to dislodge us. They were in plain view and being above us presented a fair mark. At last under shot and shell we rose and charged them. We had already withdrawn our skirmishers, so we overran their skirmish line with our line of battle. They now hastily withdrew and our victory was complete. The battle lasted from noon until night. I think it probable that we killed and wounded more men than we probably had in our command.

During the battle we were commanded by Capt. Henry A. Cannon of Wayne County, Georgia. At the beginning of the battle, after all our men were in position, I was standing within a few feet of Captain Cannon. I whispered in his ear that it was his duty to lie down, or protect himself behind a tree as I was doing. The enemy was charging in front of us, and I was satisfied no one could stand before such a fire. He refused to move, but stood with his sword drawn calling on the men to be steady. I had hardly spoken before a ball struck him. He staggered backward saying, "I am a dead man." With my left arm under him I lowered him to the ground. He died at once. He was a good officer and a brave man. We were together in the same mess. I wrote to his wife an account of his death and sent her a small amount of Confederate money that Captain Cannon had left with me. The day before the battle, while riding near a great live oak tree, he had said if he should die in battle he would like to be buried under its branches, so he was wrapped in his military cloak and buried there. In this battle I lost another friend, Lieutenant Dancy of Lake City, Florida.

At that time I had but three or four men in my company. They were tried and true soldiers and were too few to require any attention from me. So I went into the battle with the arms of a private soldier.

On hearing of the battle of Olustee my brother Tom returned to the regiment, a very ghost of his former self. He was wholly unfit for any kind of service and had to have a negro man to accompany him. Strange as it may appear, camp life seemed to agree with him and he soon reported for duty.

Our camp life in Florida's piny woods was varied with sham battles between different regiments; the men used lighted pine burrs at night as ammunition. Another entertainment was digging gophers and often a rattlesnake out of their holes. We ate the gophers and killed the snakes. I remember one rattler that measured over ten feet and whose head was as broad as my hand, to stuff its skin took a bushel of bran, and a straw was run through the hollow of its fangs. I have never before or since seen such a serpent. It came out of a gopher's hole to warm in the sun and its head was cut off by an officer's sword.

The troops of both armies soon left Florida. Our regiment was partly filled up with returning invalids and recruits. We stopped at Savannah and were sent on Whitemarsh Island to aid in the coast defense. There and upon Wilmington Island we performed picket duty upon an extensive scale. For a short time we were engaged in guarding a large number of Federal prisoners, who had been brought from Andersonville to be turned over to the United States fleet stationed at the mouth of the Savannah River. The United States Government refused to exchange prisoners of war with the Confederate States. The Confederate authorities wished to avoid feeding and guarding so many prisoners. So several thousand were forced on their government on the plea of sickness, although not one in ten was really sick. These prisoners were taken down the river on flat barges. I remember their shout of joy when they saw the Stars and Stripes floating from the masts of the transports which waited to receive them.

About this time General W. T. Sherman commenced his famous march through Georgia, with nearly one hundred thousand men in his command. There was no force to oppose them. And their course was marked by fire and pillage. My mother's house in Milledgeville was robbed of everything of value. My mother and sisters fled to Macon just before this army of robbers had reached Milledgeville. All the men that could be gathered together opposed Sherman's army as it approached Savannah. Our regiment marched from Whitemarsh Island and occupied a prominent position in the breastwork of defense. General Sherman and his army confronted us and although twenty times our number they refused to attack us, although we offered them defiance for several days. General Sherman's tactics as a general was exemplified here. He opposed us with an entrenched line more than equal to ours and sent a large force to occupy our flank, thus forcing us to retreat. Our regiment of about two hundred and fifty men was commanded by Colonel R. A. Wayne, a cool, fearless, officer. I was on duty as adjutant of the regiment. We felt the hazard of our position. The rumor came along the line that we were to be surrendered as prisoners. We were determined to resist to the utmost. Suddenly at nightfall we evacuated our entrenchments and crossed the Savannah River, leaving the city to be occupied by General Sherman and his army. It was on a bitter cold night, December 23, 1864, when we crossed the river. The scene of our army at midnight crossing the river on the pontoon bridge lighted by bonfires and the excitement over the evacuation are all vividly impressed on my memory. The next morning when the sun was barely above the horizon I looked across the wide rice fields of Carolina, and saw the United States flag floating above the City Hall of Savannah. The Federal army was delighted at the capture of Savannah, especially of twenty-five thousand bales of cotton, which were stored there. Though this was private property, it was ordered shipped and sold for government account.

Our army when we left Savannah was under the command of General Hardee. It contained only about eight thousand men, mostly reserves, old men and boys. We never attempted seriously to oppose General Sherman in his march through South Carolina. The march of that army was a trail of fire and desolation. Their acts of vandalism accomplished nothing except to embitter Southern people. Pillars of smoke arising from barns and peaceful dwellings gave us notice that Sherman's army had commenced its forward march. Our little regiment was the rear-guard in nearly all of our march through the State. I shall not give in detail the various scenes and incidents connected with our marches and countermarches in front of the great Federal army, nor shall I describe the scenes of confusion among the people. We had less than ten thousand men of all arms, of these about five thousand were infantry. The enemy pursuing us had more cavalry than our entire force. We, who brought up the rear, would form in a good position and dare this cavalry to attack us. They invariably refused to do so. We were then forced to withdraw before their great force of infantry could arrive to overwhelm us. Because of exhaustion and sickness we lost probably about one-fourth of our army before we reached Augusta. We passed below Columbia, but the main body of the Federals took a direct line to South Carolina's capital with the avowed purpose of its destruction.

I will now pass over the incidents of our Carolina campaign, until we reached Cheraw on the Santee River. The enemy evidently expected that we would give them battle here, because at this point we had large commissary stores. But General Hardee had no idea of attempting battle, except skirmishes. So we used every exertion to get our army with all the supplies possible across the Santee River and then burn the bridge.

Our little regiment, comprising less than two hundred men, was given the dangerous duty of guarding the river until our cavalry could retire behind us and then we were to cross the bridge ourselves. Very soon we saw a dark line of horsemen among the trees. At first, we supposed that they were the enemy, but they proved to be our cavalry, about five hundred men. They came thundering down the road, crossed the bridge, and were soon in our rear. Then in the woods we saw a long line of infantry with their skirmishers in front advancing slowly to attack our skirmish line. The immediate command of our skirmishers was given to my brother, Captain Tomlinson Fort, a calm, fearless officer. I, as adjutant, was instructed by Colonel Wayne to ride along the line and to tell the men to fall back slowly before the overpowering forces of the enemy. In returning to my post beside the colonel, as was my duty, I had the narrowest escape from death or capture that occurred to me during the entire war. I was aware of the great danger I was incurring as I swiftly galloped back in front of our skirmish line along the public road to rejoin Colonel Wayne. As I emerged from the pines along the road, riding very swiftly, suddenly I came upon two or three of the enemy's skirmishers who had been firing at Colonel Wayne. I came into the main road a few steps ahead of these men. I pulled up my horse and suddenly turned to the left and at the same instant the men threw up their guns and fired. By reason of my sudden turn I feel satisfied that the balls all went in front of me. As I rode down the open road a dozen or more skirmishers had some nice target practice at me, but they did very poor shooting. A cup was cut from my haversack, I think my hair was touched, and my horse was skipped by a ball. We arrived at the bridge--with a large body of enemy skirmishers about fifty yards behind us.

The bridge, a wooden-covered structure, had been saturated with turpentine and rosin by a squad of our men who had instruction to burn it as soon as we had crossed--I was among the last to cross. The bridge was then smoking and burning, I remember being partly stifled with smoke as I entered, with difficulty forcing my horse through. The bridge burned like tinder and a few minutes after we were across the flames were fifty feet high.

After we had marched a few hundred yards, our regiment received orders to return to the bridge and see that it was entirely destroyed. I never saw a better exhibition of discipline and courage than was shown by our tired men. With no protection, and only a narrow river separating them, they turned to face a force ten times their number. Fortunately there was a natural entrenchment by the river into which we filed and which fully protected us from the enemy's fire across the river. Our situation was changed--the heavy line of enemy skirmishers was along the open river and our men who had been so long pursued were protected, so we had our revenge.

My brother Tomlinson, was stricken with a most acute case of inflammatory rheumatism and had to be carried by his men, as he did not wish to be left to fall into the hands of the enemy. After we had crossed into North Carolina I managed to have him sent in a wagon to Raleigh where he was taken care of by a kind lady, Mrs. Polk, until his recovery.

I asked our commanding colonel that I be relieved from my position as acting adjutant, and that I be assigned to command of Company L, my brother's company. It now had no commissioned officer. My request was complied with. Colonel R. A. Wayne called a meeting of the officers of the regiment and proposed that on my being relieved of my position that the thanks of the regiment be given to me. It was agreed. The regiment was drawn up in line of battle, arms were presented, and in the language of the order--"Thanks are returned to Lieutenant Fort for his coolness and courage under fire." I was much gratified at this compliment. I have the paper written in pencil by Colonel Wayne, and have preserved it for my children so as to show them that their father did not lose his presence of mind in times of great danger, and that they are the children of a Confederate soldier.

General Hardee's brigade was now joined to the army of General Joseph E. Johnston. At Bentonville, North Carolina, Johnston gathered together what forces he could, and fought the last great battle of the war. It was a bloody, indecisive battle, and ought never to have been fought. We were confronted with a force over four times our superior in number and ten times in equipment. No valor or strategy could overcome such immense odds.

On the evening of the last day our rifle pits on the extreme angle in front of our main line were captured. To recapture them a detail of ten men from each company in the brigade was made and I was detailed to lead it. It appeared a very hazardous undertaking, but we retook the pits with but little loss. I was the third man in the pits. At midnight our army retreated across the river.

As soon as we had a safe distance between us and the enemy, an order came to send an officer from our division to Georgia to collect all soldiers possible and bring them to the army. This order was given to our regiment. Every officer except myself applied for the place. Colonel Wayne was indignant at so many applications, and ordered me to go. I at once made quick preparations to leave for Georgia. I had written orders signed by the adjutant-general of General Joseph E. Johnston's army for all authorities to forward me on my journey with all means in their power. I was aided some by the railroads, but I mostly depended upon walking, carrying a knapsack weighing twenty-nine pounds. On my journey through the Carolinas and Georgia I witnessed many scenes and incidents, some of an amusing, others of a pathetic nature. I made a remarkably quick trip. A day or so after I left the army a reorganization was made of our division. Our regiment was raised to over one thousand men. Although not present I was advanced to senior first lieutenant of the regiment. Many officers were put back into the ranks.

While on the road I heard of the surrender of General Lee. It seemed unbelievable, and I denied the report. I arrived in Macon two days before its capture by General Wilson. An organization of cavalry was hastily formed in which I was to receive an independent command and join General N. B. Forrest in Alabama. But before this could be accomplished in quick succession came General Johnston's surrender, the capture of President Davis, and the death of the Confederacy.

In conclusion, Stonewall Jackson defined war as "Death." General Sherman as "Hell." Whatever may be its definition it is always unjustifiable, inhuman, barbarous; the cause has nothing to do with the issue of the conflict. Success attends the side with resources sufficient to overcome their opponents. For the last year of the war it was the pure white flame of patriotism which alone sustained the Confederacy,--its material resources were exhausted. No valor, however great, could withstand the resources of the North sustained by immigrants from Europe. The frown of civilization was upon the institution of negro slavery and it had to go.

NOTE--At Cornelia, Georgia, on March 25, 1917, a little group of patriotic women met to organize a Chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, and when asked to select a name for the Chapter, the name of John P. Fort was suggested and unanimously adopted, the ladies being anxious to show, in some measure, their appreciation of his splendid war record and of his loyal and unselfish devotion to this section of the State since the War.

MRS. R. L. DECK,

Pres. John P. Fort Chapter, U. D. C.

AFTER THE WAR

When I returned from the army I had a severe cough and was in a very run down condition. Brother George feared that I had an incipient case of tuberculosis. So in the fall of 1865 I went down to a plantation in Sumter County to try to recover my health by living out of doors. That winter I lived the life of a hunter, the gun constantly in my hand. During the four years of the war the game had not been hunted at all, consequently it had increased in great abundance. I was very successful in killing game of all kinds--quail, ducks, wild turkey, and deer. To show the abundance of the game, and my success, I remember that in fourteen turkey hunts I brought home a turkey every time but one. There were several large ponds in the place to which the ducks, principally mallards, came in great flocks to roost. One late afternoon I saw two trumpeter swans coming in to a pond. From a distance of one hundred and forty yards I raised my rifle and shot one of them dead. It was a magnificent bird, weighing thirty-nine pounds and measured nine feet from tip to tip of the wings. There were coon hunts at night, and many hours spent with the fishing rod. On many of the trips I was accompanied by a faithful negro named Squash. My health improved, my cough disappeared, and I went back to Macon a well, strong man.

In 1864 my sister Julia, Mrs. E. D. Huguenin of Macon, then a widow, died as a result of a runaway accident. She left five children to my mother's care. She bequeathed to my mother her home and servants in Macon, and made brother George executor of the estate. The family then moved to Macon, where we lived for about twenty years. The family life was a most harmonious one. The household was presided over by my mother, assisted by sister Kate.