Part 2

As it seemed that we would remain here all winter, as we really did, I obtained permission to build a log cabin for myself and my mess. One day, as I was building the chimney, I saw Maj. Edward Manigault and his brother, Gen. Arthur Manigault, who was spending the day with him, walking toward me to inspect the guns parked near by. As they approached I jumped down off the scaffolding and saluted them. They returned the salute, and then the Major said: "We have been admiring your chimney, Mr. Ford. It is as well built as if a mason had done the work." The old man, whenever on the few occasions he spoke to me, strange to say, always addressed me, a private soldier, as "Mr." Ford. I never could account for it, unless it was that he knew all about me and my people. He had been a West Pointer, but had resigned from the U. S. Army a good many years before. Thus he was a strict disciplinarian, and on that account at that time not popular with the men; but I always liked him, and approved of his discipline. Later on, as the service became more exacting, and really active, the men became devoted to him, as they realized his ability as an officer.

On December 23 our company, then having four 24-pounder Parrott guns, started off for John's Island, where an attempt was to be made to capture a small body of Federals that were near Legareville, and also to sink or capture a Federal gunboat that was off that place. Our company was to have been supported by a Virginia regiment. On Christmas day at daylight we opened fire from our masked battery upon the two gunboats, for there were two on hand instead of one, but the infantry remained in the background, and failed to attack the Federals near Legareville as designed, and we had to bear the whole brunt of the fight. It was a sharp affair, and we soon had to get out of it as best we could, with the loss of several men and a half dozen horses.

In this affair I had a very narrow escape, and another man lost his life in my stead. I had been lead driver on gun No. 2, and when we started on this expedition I was transferred to cannoneer's duty, and young Heyward Ancrum given my horses. Well, in the fight a shell from the U. S. S. _Marblehead_ passed entirely through the bodies of both of my horses, and took off Ancrum's leg at the knee. He fell among the struggling, dying horses, but was pulled out, and died soon after. He was certainly killed in my place.

It was about this time that I saw that celebrated torpedo submarine boat, the _Hundley_, the first submarine boat ever built. As I was standing on the bank of the Stono River, I saw the boat passing along the river, where her builder, H. L. Hundley, had brought her for practice. I watched her as she disappeared around a bend of the river, and little thought of the fearful tragedy that was immediately to ensue. She made an experimental dive, stuck her nose in the mud, and drowned her entire crew. Her career was such an eventful one that I record what I recollect of it.

She was built in Mobile by Hundley, and brought on to Charleston in 1863. She was of iron, about 20 feet long, 4 feet wide, and 5 feet deep--in fact, not far from round, as I have seen it stated; and equipped with two fins, by which she could be raised or lowered in the water. The intention of her builder was that she should dive under an enemy's vessel, with a torpedo in tow, which would be dragged against the vessel, and exploded while the _Hundley_, or "_Fish_," as some called her, rose on the other side. She was worked by a hand propeller, and equipped with water tanks, which could be filled or emptied at pleasure, and thus regulate her sinking or rising. The first experiment with her was made in Mobile Bay, and she went down all right with her crew of seven men, but did not come up, and every man died, asphyxiated, as no provision had been made for storing a supply of air.

As soon as she was raised, she was brought to Charleston, and a few days after her acceptance by General Beauregard, Lieutenant Payne, of the Confederate Navy, volunteered with a crew of six men to man her and attack the Federal fleet off Charleston. While he had her at Fort Johnson, on James Island, and was making preparations for the attack, one night as she was lying at the wharf the swell of a passing steamer filled her, and she went to the bottom, carrying with her and drowning the six men. Lieutenant Payne happened to be near an open manhole at the moment, and thus he alone escaped. Notwithstanding the evidently fatal characteristics of this boat, as soon as she was raised another crew of six men volunteered under Payne and took charge of her. But only a week afterwards an exactly similar accident happened while she was alongside the wharf at Fort Sumter, and only Payne and two of his men escaped.

H. L. Hundley, her builder in Mobile, now believed that the crews did not understand how to manage the "_Fish_," and came on to Charleston to see if he could not show how it should be done. A Lieutenant Dixon, of Alabama, had made several successful experiments with the boat in Mobile Bay, and he also came on, and was put in charge, with a volunteer crew, and made several successful dives in the harbor. But one day, the day on which I saw the boat, Hundley himself took it into Stono River to practice her crew. She went down all right, but did not come up, and when she was searched for, found and raised to the surface, all of her crew were dead, asphyxiated as others had been.

After the boat was brought up to Charleston, several successful experiments were made with her, until she attempted to dive under the Confederate receiving ship _Indian Chief_, when she got entangled with an anchor chain and went to the bottom, and remained there until she was raised with every one of her crew dead, as were their predecessors.

No sooner had she been raised than a number of men begged to be allowed to give her another trial, and Lieutenant Dixon was given permission to use her in an attack on the U. S. S. _Housatonic_, a new gunboat that lay off Beach Inlet on the bar, on the condition that she should not be used as a submarine vessel, but only on the surface with a spar torpedo. On February 17, 1864, Lieutenant Dixon, with a crew of six men, made their way with the boat through the creeks behind Sullivan's Island to the inlet. The night was not very dark, and the _Housatonic_ easily could be perceived lying at anchor, unmindful of danger. The "_Fish_" went direct for her victim, and her torpedo striking the side tore a tremendous hole in the _Housatonic_, which sank to the bottom in about four minutes. But as the water was not very deep her masts remained above water, and all of the crew, except four or five saved themselves by climbing and clinging to them. But the "_Fish_" was not seen again. From some unknown cause she again sank, and all her crew perished. Several years after the war, when the government was clearing the wrecks and obstructions out of Charleston harbor, the divers visited the scene of this attack, and on the sandy bottom of the sea found the hulk of the _Housatonic_, and alongside of her the shell of the "_Fish_." Within the latter were the skeletons of her devoted crew.

This submarine torpedo boat must not be confused with the surface ones, called "Davids," that were first built and used at Charleston in the fall of 1863. These "Davids" were cigar-shaped crafts about 30 feet long, and propelled by miniature steam engines; and they each carried a torpedo at the end of a spar in the bow. There were several of them at Charleston and points along the coast.

In March, 1864, I had the only violent illness I had during my service, until at the end, a year later, and being given a thirty-day furlough went up to Sumter, where I had some near relatives. Here I stayed a couple of weeks, and then went over to Aiken, where my parents and sisters resided. Although the distance from Sumter to Aiken was only about 135 miles, the railway trains took seventeen hours to make the distance. It is hard to realize now the delays and discomforts of travel in the South in 1864. With worn-out tracks and roadbeds, dilapidated engines and cars, it is remarkable that the railway trains were able to run at all. On this occasion, which was typical of travel then, I left Sumter at 10 o'clock p. m., and just before reaching Kingsville the engine ran off the track from a worn-out rail. Two hours or more were spent in prying it back. Then shortly after the train stopped in a piece of woodland, and the fireman and train hands took their axes and spent an hour cutting wood and putting it on the tender. So it was full daylight when we reached Kingsville. From there all went well until after passing Branchville the engine broke one of its connecting rods, and we had to wait until another engine could be got from Branchville. Some miles farther up the road the train again stopped, and the hands went into the woods and cut wood for the engine. Finally, at about four o'clock in the afternoon I arrived at Aiken. Here I remained for a fortnight, and then joined my command, which had just been ordered to Florida.

Early in the spring the Federals made an advance into Florida from Jacksonville, and a number of troops were sent from South Carolina to oppose them. Among them was our battery of artillery. We reached the section of the State threatened the day after the battle of Olustee, or Ocean Pond, and were then ordered back to Madison, where we encamped, and during our stay there of a couple of weeks were most hospitably treated by the ladies of the town.

This battle of Olustee was a very severe fight, and a bloody one, in which the Federals under General Seymour were routed by the Confederates under Gen. Pat. Finnigan and Gen. A. H. Colquitt. In this battle the Federal loss was about 1,900 men and the Confederate about 1,000. The obstinacy of the struggle may be appreciated when it is observed that, out of the total of 11,000 men engaged, the casualties amounted to 2,900, nearly 27 per cent. As I have said, our battery reached the scene after the battle, so we made no stay near Olustee, but retired to Madison. The wounded were all cared for at the wayside hospitals, and the dead white men of both sides buried; but the dead negroes were left where they fell. There had been several regiments of negroes in the Federal force, who as usual had been put into the front lines, and thus received the full effect of the Confederate fire. The field was dotted everywhere with dead negroes, who with the dead horses here and there soon created an intolerable stench, perceptible for half a mile or more. The hogs which roamed at large over the country were soon attracted to the spot and tore many of the bodies to pieces, feeding upon them. This field of death, enlivened by numbers of hogs grunting and squealing over their hideous meal, was one of the most repulsive sights I ever saw.

About the beginning of March our battery was ordered to Baldwin, about 9 miles from Jacksonville. Here we remained for nearly a month, and strange to say had a very uncomfortable time as far as food was concerned. The surrounding country was barren, swampy, and very thinly settled, so there was very little private foraging to be done and we had to suffer from the very scant rations served out by the commissary.

This department was in a very disorganized condition, probably because of the sudden massing of troops at an unexpected point; but the fact was that our men seldom got enough of even the coarsest food. Our battery horses were supplied with corn and forage, and on several occasions after going twenty-four hours without any food I made use of some opportunity to steal the horses' corn, and parched that for a meal.

The bacon served out occasionally was of the most emphatic character, and very animated, but when fried and eaten with eyes shut, and nostrils closed, did no harm. Once in a while some of the men would go into the swamp and still-hunt wild hogs, and we would get some fresh pork. This hunting was against orders, and the officers tried their best to stop it, and occasionally some man would be caught at it and punished, but the men were really too much in need of food to remain quiet when game could be had. These hogs had once had recognized owners, but since that section of country had been deserted, had run wild, and lived in the swamp. It was by no means easy to shoot them, as they were very wary, and however quiet the hunter might remain behind his brush blind would often detect his presence by their sense of smell, and could not be decoyed within range.

My company was soon ordered back to South Carolina, and our route lay over the Albany and Gulf Railroad, now the Atlantic Coast Line, from Quitman to Savannah. This road, like all others in the South, was in a terribly dilapidated condition--rails and trestles decayed, and rolling-stock worn out. The engine that drew our train, containing only our battery, was unable to do the work, and several times when we reached the easy grades on that generally very level road, the men would be compelled to get off and assist the engine by pushing the train up the incline. When the train was got up to the top of the grade it would go down the other side by its own impetus, and on level stretches the engine got along fairly well. We made the distance of 170 miles in about sixteen hours, a little over ten miles an hour--fairly good speed in the South in 1864.

Our battery was stopped at Green Pond, on the Savannah and Charleston Railroad, and we spent the summer of 1864 doing picket duty at Combahee Point, and along the Ashepoo River.

At Combahee Point we were stationed on Mr. Andrew Burnett's plantation. The camp was located on the edge of the abandoned rice field, while the picket post was in front on some breastworks on the river's edge. The old rice fields were more or less overflowed, the banks having been broken for two years or more, and in them were numerous alligators, some of considerable size. At night the noises made by these amphibians, and the raccoons in the adjacent marsh, would have been interesting to a naturalist, but were annoying to us. But the most serious disturbers of our peace were the mosquitoes. These were of such size and venom and in such numbers as to cause real suffering, and necessitate the use of unusual schemes to protect ourselves against their attacks.

Accounts of these mosquitoes must seem incredible to any one who has never spent a midsummer's night in the rice fields; and very few white people have done this since the war. During the day the comparatively few that were about could be driven off by tobacco smoke and other means, but when night fell, and the myriads came up from the fields and marsh, then the situation became serious. When we were on sentry duty, walking post, many of us wore thick woolen gloves to protect our hands; and over our heads and necks frames made of thin hoops covered with mosquito netting. And when we wanted to retire to our small "A" tents, we had to make smudge fires in them first, and then crawl in on our hands and knees, and keep our faces near the ground to breathe, until finally we got asleep. And, moreover, we dared not let our faces or hands touch the sides of the tent, for immediately the mighty insects would thrust their probosces through the canvas and get us. I feel dubious about the advisability of recording such a statement, but as I am stating only facts as I experienced them, this must go on record.

In this rice field section our men suffered greatly from fever, and there were several deaths. I was the only man in the company of 70 who persisted in taking three grains of quinine daily, and one other of our men and I were the only two who did not have a touch of fever.

While on duty here, early one morning four negro men came to our picket bringing two Federal officers, and turned them over to us. Upon inquiry it seemed that these two officers, one of them a Captain Strong of the Regular Army, and the other a Volunteer lieutenant, had been captured in Virginia, and were on their way to prison in Georgia, but had escaped from the cars on the Savannah and Charleston Railroad, and had tried to make their way to the Federal fleet, but were simply starved out, until they had to appeal to the negroes for help, and they promptly brought them in to us. I was detailed as one of the men to guard and carry them to Green Pond, about 15 miles off, and deliver them to the authorities. On the way we stopped for a moment at Mr. Benjamin Rhett's plantation, who, as soon as he learned what was up came to the wagon and with the consent of the sergeant in command, invited the officers into his house. There, as soon as they had made some ablutions, he carried them in to breakfast, and entertained them for an hour; at the same time sending breakfast and genuine coffee out to us. Captain Strong spoke to me very pleasantly, and said that he was a graduate of West Point; and learning that I was from Charleston, inquired about several people there whom I knew, among others of Col. Sam. Ferguson, who he said had been a classmate of his at the Academy, and who I told him was at that time with the army in the West. I recollect that he was interested at hearing of him. He seemed also quite struck with the youthfulness of our men, and remarked on it.

Late in the fall our battery was removed to a point on the Charleston and Savannah Railroad, south of Green Pond, and put in charge of a battery there, as the Federals had advanced up from Port Royal, with the evident intention of attempting to seize the railroad. It seems that this really was the aim of the movement, conducted under the command of Gen. Guy V. Henry. And this movement was suggested by General Sherman, who, when he determined upon his march through Georgia, stated to the government at Washington that he expected to reach Savannah about the end of December, and suggested that the railway between Charleston and Savannah be destroyed before he got there. The Federals made several advances, but never could get nearer than about half a mile of the railroad, and in their efforts to do so were defeated and driven back in two or three affairs, notably in a serious fight at Tulafinny, in which the cadets of the South Carolina Military Academy, mere boys, were engaged.

In these infantry affairs we had no part, as they occurred at some distance from our position. Our company at the time was serving as heavy artillerists, and, as I have said, had charge of a battery commanding the railroad. The Federals had, however, established a battery of field pieces about 700 yards in our front, and there were frequent artillery duels, but without serious injury, certainly to our side. There was a short section of the railway track in an open piece of country, of which the enemy got the range, and every time a train passed in the daytime they would open on it with their guns. When the engineers approached this section they put on all the speed attainable, which was not very much at best, with the dilapidated engines they then had, and there was considerable interesting excitement in being on a flat car and running the gauntlet in this way. I do not think, however, that a train was ever hit.

About December the field pieces were taken away from our company and Capt. Porcher Smith's, and both were turned into infantry, and armed with old-fashioned Belgian rifles, probably the most antiquated and worthless guns ever put into a modern soldier's hands. But they were all our government had. These rifles could not send a ball beyond 200 yards, and at much shorter range their aim was entirely unreliable. This our men felt hard to stand, as they knew that at this period the Federal soldiers were being generally armed with breech-loading Springfield rifles, weapons which thirty years later were reckoned very formidable. We soon after were ordered back to James Island, where with Captain Smith's company we were again under the command of Maj. Edward Manigault. We were at once put on very arduous picket duty along the lines on the southwestern part of the island. The weather at this time I well recollect was unusually cold and wet, and with an insufficiency of food and clothing, our sufferings were severe. Men had got very scarce then, and the same relay had to be kept on picket week after week without relief, and the men would often have to stand guard on the outposts eight or ten hours on a stretch.

On one occasion while another man and I were on sentry duty on the lines in the rifle-pits, at the break of day we saw the two Federal sentries on the other side of the intervening marsh desert their posts, and unarmed walk quickly toward us. When they got within about ten paces we halted them, and called our officer. As soon as he came up we turned them over to him. I always had a loathing for a deserter, and said to the men, "If I had my way I would have you given thirty-nine lashes each and sent back under flag of truce to your command, so you could be shot as you deserve." One of them twiggled his fingers on his nose and replied, "Ah, but you hav'n't got no say in the matter."

While on duty on these outpost lines, the Federals frequently shelled us from their gunboats in Stono River. We did not mind the Parrott shells, but the shells from the Cohorn mortars on a mortar schooner were very trying. They would fall, apparently from the sky, and there was no dodging them. But fortunately none of them fell directly in the rifle-pits, but all exploded harmlessly in the field. All old soldiers know that mortar shells take a very mean advantage of a man.

One of the outposts on these lines which was manned only at night was out in the marsh, and I had it one night, and it was about the most disagreeable night I ever had on picket. I was placed on the post at dark, with orders to keep in the marsh, at the edge of the tide as it went down, and to come in at the first daylight. I was all the time up to my insteps in mud, by myself, with the rain falling all night. I stood out in that marsh from dark until daylight, in the drenching rain, for about ten hours. Like most of the men, I had no oilskin, or any protection against the weather, and of course was thoroughly drenched early in the night, and the steady rain all night kept me saturated. The best I could do was to try to keep my ammunition and gun-lock dry. It was certainly the worst night I ever spent.