CHAPTER XIV

TO TAYLORSVILLE—AT CHAFIN'S FARM—TO NORTH CAROLINA—MARCHING THROUGH SWAMPS AND SAND—THE CAPTURE OF PLYMOUTH—COMPANIES C AND G HAVE SERIOUS EXPERIENCES—INCIDENTS OF THE BATTLE—THE GUNBOAT "ALBEMARLE"—COL. JAMES DEARING WINS PROMOTION—ON TO WASHINGTON, NORTH CAROLINA—NEWBERNE INVESTED

TO TAYLORSVILLE

In the early fall of 1863, the brigade now commanded by Gen. ("Buck") W. R. Terry, General Kemper being disabled by wounds received at Gettysburg, moved down towards Spottsylvania County, and later, about the 1st of October, 1863, went into camp near Taylorsville, Hanover County, which seemed a favorite stopping place. I remember on this march I wore a pair of new boots. My feet becoming sore and blistered, I had to fall back in the rear. I took off the boots and walked in my socks until the sand worked through, when the bottoms of my feet began to burn as if walking on hot embers. I then took off my socks and walked on, barefooted, until the sand and gravel began to wear away the cuticle, when I put on my boots without socks, and limped on, coming up with the command after dark, which was bivouacked by the roadside.

The brigade remained at Taylorsville until about the 1st of January, 1864, guarding the railroad bridges over the North and South Anna rivers, and doing picket duty to the east down on the Pamunky. I remember while on picket that fall, the weather was delightful, the atmosphere pure and clear as that under the far-famed Italian skies, and how the boys used to watch the morning-star as it rose high in the heavens, keeping track of it as late as 10 and 11 o'clock A. M., when it could be seen plainly with the naked eye, by knowing exactly where to look, some one always keeping it in sight.

The command was quite comfortably situated here, some building huts or "dog houses" and chimneys to tents, and as the picket duty was not very arduous, we had a pretty good time, though rations were scarce. My memory is at fault as to the time the brigade was in camp below Richmond at Chafin's Farm, nearly opposite Drury's Bluff. At any rate, we were there at one time, and relieved Gen. Henry A. Wise's brigade. Here we had a fine camping ground in high, level fields, and expected to remain some time, but did not tarry very long. While here I visited the batteries at Drury's Bluff, and saw the big guns mounted there, pointing down a long stretch of the river half a mile or more. The men here said, that lower down on the bluff other big guns were in position near the water's edge, which, they declared, "could blow clear out of the water any Yankee gunboat that attempted to pass up the river." The Yankee gunboats at one time attacked this place, but were driven off in short order. The Confederate ironclad gunboat, _Patrick Henry_, lay at anchor in the river just above the bluff. This I also visited, going on board, and inspecting the little monster, small though formidable, with its ribs of railroad iron, and big guns. I was struck with how neat and clean everything was kept—spic and span as any ladies' parlor or drawing-room—the floors highly polished, the brass work clean and shining, and the officers and crew very polite, taking pains and seeming pride in showing visitors over the boat.

Soon after we arrived at Chafin's Farm I went on some errand for General Kemper or General Terry (I forget now which was in command) to Gen. Henry A. Wise's headquarters. I had seen General Wise before and had heard him speak more than once, but had never met him. I was struck with his polite and pleasing manner, and the courtesy with which he received me. But the man of the most pleasing and delightful manners I met during the war was Col. Isaac H. Carrington, provost marshal of Richmond. I had occasion once to visit his office on business and was perfectly charmed with his urbanity not profuse or embarrassing to a visitor, but delightfully easy and pleasing was his manner; I am sure he was a born gentleman.

I should have stated before, that in the early fall of 1863, soon after the brigade and the other brigades of Pickett's Division had been detached and sent to Taylorsville, thence below Petersburg, Longstreet and his other two divisions, Hood's and McLaw's, were also detached and sent to Tennessee, where they rendered distinguished service in the battle of Chickamauga, and later at Knoxville.

TO NORTH CAROLINA AGAIN

On the 10th of January, 1864, the brigade embarked on the cars at Petersburg for Goldsboro, N. C, via Weldon; remained at Goldsboro until near the last of the month, going thence to Kinston, on Neuse River.

About the 1st of February the brigade, with other troops under General Pickett, marched to New Berne, lower down on the Neuse. The town was invested and there was some fighting, some outposts taken and prisoners captured as well as considerable stores, but the town was not attacked, nor was the Eleventh Regiment actively engaged, though at one time the brigade was drawn up in line of battle, and all thought that we were going into a fight. I remember as the line was being formed, seeing the drummers with their drums slung over their shoulders going back to where the surgeons had selected a position for the field hospital, to assist the doctors. I remarked to some one that if I lived through the war, I intended to have all my boys learn to beat the drum. Whenever the drummers and the cavalry were seen going to the rear, some one was sure to say, "Look out, boys, we are going to have a fight." The troops marched back to Kinston, thence to Goldsboro, where we remained until the 20th of February, when we again marched to Kinston.

About this time, I got a twenty-days' furlough and went home. Many of the officers and men got furloughs during the winter, as there was little or no fighting going on.

MARCHING THROUGH SWAMPS AND SAND

We lived pretty well while marching and tramping around through the swamps and sands of Eastern North Carolina, but some of the marches were very trying. In places the roadbeds were worn down a foot or two; in rainy weather the roads would be full of mud and water half-leg deep, through which we tramped for miles on a stretch, the roadside being closely bordered with thick-growing bushes and intertwining vines; it was impossible to avoid the slush and water. Often when a particularly muddy stretch of road, or a big, deep mudhole was encountered, some wag would call out, "Boys, you have been looking for a soft place, here it is." By the "soft place" was meant an easy, bomb-proof detail, where there was no fighting, picket or guard duty to perform.

Some of these marches were made in the night time, when the men would splash and flounder along through the mud, some swearing, some laughing and cracking jokes, and ever and anon, the "Bonnie Blue Flag," "Dixie," or some other patriotic song would be started, when the woodland would ring for miles with the songs, and the echoes go rolling through the swamps and marshes.

In some sections the roads ran through high and dry lands, the roadbeds filled with loose, white sand, over which the marching was very laborious; sometimes through the long-leaf pine turpentine orchards, as they were called—great forests of tall pines, the bark from two sides of the trees being scraped off, with steel-bladed knives on long poles, many feet from the ground, so that when the sap rises it exudes freely, running down the trunks of the trees into deep notches near the ground, cut with long-bladed axes, made for the purpose, and then dipped out into buckets and conveyed to the turpentine distillery.

During the winter these scraped-off surfaces are incrusted with dried rosin, which burns freely when set on fire, the blaze running up the trees many feet. On these night marches sometimes the soldiers would apply the torch to the rosin-covered trees along the roadside, when the woods and country around would be lighted up, the flames leaping up the tall pines to the very tops; the long, gray moss hanging in festoons from the branches of the live oaks interspersed among the pines, the glare of the long streaks of flame reflecting on the white sand, scintillating like carpets woven of silver threads and sprinkled with tiny diamonds; the gloom off in the woods beyond the penetration of the light, and anon the hooting of the big owl and the scream of the nighthawk—all brought to mind scenes described in fairy tales, where witches and goblins in fantastic attire and shapes participate in high carnival, reveling with kindred spirits in some vale of tangled wild-wood, deep hidden and embossed in the gloom, save for the glare of the torches of the devotees—while the gray lines of the soldiers, like grim spectral figures stalking along betwixt the blazing trees, the red lights flashing from their burnished muskets and bayonets, reflected on their begrimed faces, resembled gigantic and uncanny figures moving amidst the flames of some plutorion realm.

These high, sandy roads traverse the country between Goldsboro, Kinston, and Tarboro.

While I was on furlough, the command went by train to Wilmington, thence by steamer down Cape Fear River to Smithville, opposite Fort Fisher, camping on the seashore, where the men feasted on oysters and fish.

After the expiration of my furlough I returned to the command, which was, when I left home, still on the seashore, but on my arrival at Wilmington I met the brigade on the return trip up the river on the way to Goldsboro, where we remained until the 1st of April, then marched to Tarboro on Tar River, when some one started a report that "Tar River was on fire," but the report, like many others circulated in the army, proved untrue. These rumors were called "grapevine dispatches," and were about on a par with the weather man's reports of to-day. While at Manassas the first year of the war a report was circulated that the Black Horse Cavalry had captured the Yankee gunboat _Pawnee_ on the Potomac River.

THE CAPTURE OF PLYMOUTH

On the 15th of April, 1864, the brigade, with other troops—infantry, artillery, and cavalry, under the command of Gen. R. F. Hoke, of North Carolina—marched on Plymouth, which was captured on the 20th of April, with a brigade of Yankees, and large quantities of stores, arms, and provisions. Our little army lived high for a few days, literally feasting on the fat of the land. While besieging the town, Company C and Company G of the Eleventh Regiment had an experience worth relating; a very trying and disastrous one it was, too, for these two companies, which I will presently relate. Plymouth is situated on the south bank of Roanoke River, not far from where it empties into the Albemarle Sound.

The Yankees had erected several forts and redoubts around the place, one of which, Fort Warren, was about a mile up the river and not in sight of the town. When the town was invested, Terry's Brigade, except the Twenty-fourth Regiment, which went below near the town, was placed in front of this fort, which could not be seen from where the lines were first formed, for the woods intervened. As soon as the lines were established, Company C was detailed for picket duty and placed along the farther edge of the piece of woods in which the line was formed. I walked out in the field to see what could be seen, and pretty soon came in sight of the Yankee pickets to the left, one of whom took off his cap and waved it; I did not return his salute. About that time there appeared beyond the Yankee pickets, still further to the left, what I at first thought was a train of cars. While I was looking on in astonishment, a puff of smoke burst from the supposed train with a loud boom and shriek through the air, which I at once recognized as a cannon shot and shell. I divined at once, that what I had taken for a train of cars was a Yankee gunboat steaming up Roanoke River, though I could not see the river for the high banks. I don't know whether that shell was fired at me or not—they may have just been "shelling the woods"; I was the only Confederate in sight of the boat in the direction which it was fired. If it was, it was a poor shot, it went high overhead and crashed into the woods beyond. I did not run, but am pretty certain I ducked my head, and walked back to the picket line; I did not return the salutation of the Yankee picket, but bowed to the shell. It was very hard to keep from dodging when a shell went by, or a minie ball whizzed close. I heard a story on one of our generals who, on one occasion when his men were dodging at the minie balls, upbraided them, saying, "Stand up like men and don't dodge," when pretty quick a shell came very close to the general, who ducked his head. The men began to laugh, and the general said, "It is all right to dodge them big ones."

The gunboat steamed on up the river out of sight. That afternoon or the next morning the Confederate pickets advanced nearer to, and in sight of the fort, wading through a swamp in the woods for several hundred yards from half-leg to knee-deep in water, to the edge of the field in which the fort was situated, some 800 or 1,000 yards away.

The companies took daily turns at this duty while the siege of the town lasted.

COMPANIES C AND G HAVE SERIOUS EXPERIENCE

Now I come to the relation of that trying and disastrous experience mentioned above. The scare I had from the Yankee gunboat and shell was as nothing compared to this. One morning before day, Company C and Company G were aroused from sleep, called to arms, and received instructions from Colonel Otey, coming from General Terry, to "march out in the field in front of the fort to within musket range, open fire and keep down the Yankee gunners while the Confederate battery shells the Yankees out of the fort." Company G was commanded by Lieut. James Franklin, of Lynchburg, and I, being the senior officer, had charge of the expedition. As soon as the orders were received, off we started. Wading through the swamp, we came out at the picket posts at the edge of the field when the first streaks of daybreak could be seen in the east. Company G had not yet gotten out of the swamp. It being important to get position as near the fort as possible while it was yet dark, I at once deployed Company C in skirmish line and moved forward, leaving word with the pickets for Company G to come on as soon as they got through the swamp.

We marched on in silence until within about 400 yards of the fort, when all at once, without any warning, or even saying, "by your leave," the Yankees let loose the dogs of war upon us, with, as it seemed to me, all kinds of guns and shot, big and little—shells, grapeshot, canister, and minie balls. At this warm and sudden salutation, the men fell prone to the ground. Thinking that we were not close enough to the fort to do much execution with muskets, I gave the command, "Forward," when every man rose to his feet and rushed forward some distance. When the command, "Lie down and commence firing," was given, this was at once obeyed. About this time Company G came up at double-quick and joined in the firing. All the while the Yankees were pouring it into us, killing and wounding a good many. Here the two companies lay out in the open field without any protection whatever, without a tree or rock, stump or log to shelter them, firing at the fort until after sun-up, while the Confederate battery was trying to shell the Yankees out of the fort. They were only trying, sure enough, for I could see the shells bursting high in the air over the fort, while never a one entered or exploded near it. I had sent back for more ammunition, some of the men saying their supply was running short from the rapid firing, but before the messenger returned I concluded the right thing to do was to get away from that place as soon as possible; so I gave the command, "Skirmish in retreat; double-quick, march," which was done in full double-quick time. Sad to say, we left five or six men, good soldiers, dead on the field, while a number of others were wounded.

Company C lost two good men killed, as follows: Bennett Tweedy, Wm. Monroe, and I think another, whose name I do not remember. Among the wounded was Abner Bateman, who had his right arm shattered above the elbow. A section of the bone was removed by the surgeon, so that afterwards he had an extra joint, as it were, in his arm. Company G lost several men also. That night a detail was sent out and brought off the dead bodies, which were buried down there in the sands of the Old North State, where, no doubt, they still lie mouldering into dust, if not already dust, ere this.

I remember when we came back to the line of battle that morning, F. C. Tweedy, a brother of Bennett, who from some cause had not gone with us, came to us and said, "Where is Bennett?" Some one replied, "Bennett was killed." "Ferd" then threw up his hands and exclaimed, "Oh, my God!" I shall never forget the agonized tone of Ferd's voice; it was if his very soul was pierced through and through.

This fort was manned by 200 men with muskets, besides the big guns, 32-pounders, mounted on the parapet; also had sandbags arranged along the parapet, so as to form loopholes for muskets. These 200 men in the fort, well protected, were shooting at the 75 or 80 men laying out there in the field, without the slightest protection—an equal contest indeed!

I have always thought it a "fool order" that sent these companies out that morning.

It was said afterwards, and no doubt true, that a little lieutenant who had been doing some scouting, suggested the project to General Terry. This lieutenant was standing out in the field alone while the firing was going on that morning, some distance from the firing line, when the Yankees took a crack at him with a charge of grapeshot, one of which struck him in the heel and maimed him for life. We did not know that he was anywhere near, nor that he had been wounded until after the fighting was over. When it was known that he had suggested the "fool project," I don't think he got much sympathy from any one.

On the 20th of April, the troops near the town, by an assault on and capture of the forts near the place, compelled the surrender of the enemy. We could hear the fighting going on down the river a mile away. All at once the firing ceased and cheering commenced, when the men began to say, "They are cheering—sh! sh! Listen, listen! See which side is cheering!" It was not long before the "Rebel yell" was recognized, then all knew the day had been won, when the troops above sent up a mighty shout in answer to their comrades below.

Pretty soon two men in a small boat was seen pulling up the river towards Fort Warren; all knew it meant the surrender of the fort, and it was not long after they landed before the Stars and Stripes were hauled down, and a white flag run up in its place. Another mighty cheer went up—the "Rebel yell"—three times three. It was a glad time when "Old Glory" slid down the flagpole. Col. Jim Dearing and a Yankee officer were in this boat.

The brigade marched down and took possession of the fort and garrison. Some of the Yankees said they wanted to see the men who came out in the field that morning, and lay under their fire for nearly an hour. They saw them and greatly admired such courage as was then and there displayed. They only lost one man, their best gunner, who was shot through the body while aiming one of the big guns. The brigade with the prisoners then marched down to the town, where the other prisoners and Confederate troops were assembled, when congratulations and good cheer among the Confederates were exchanged; all feasting on the good things to eat and drink captured in the forts and town.

THE GUNBOAT "ALBEMARLE"

The capture of Plymouth was greatly aided by the Confederate ironclad gunboat, _Albemarle_, built at Weldon, and commanded by Captain Cooke, of the navy, which dropped down the river as the troops marched by land, the movements of each being timed so as to coöperate in the attack. The _Albemarle_ glided by the upper fort in the night-time, the night after the troops invested the town, dropping down the river near Plymouth, where the Yankees had three gunboats lying in the river.

The Yankees in Fort Warren, which is situated on the river bank, said they saw the _Albemarle_ as it passed down the river that night, and had their guns trained on it, but did not fire, thinking it was one of their boats which had passed up the river that afternoon, which I have already mentioned, but had returned by another channel, unknown to the occupants of Fort Warren.

These Yankee gunboats were the _Southfield_, the _Miami_, and the _Bombshell_. There were three other forts on the land side of the town: Fort Williams, Fort Wessels, and Fort Comfort. Captain Cooke lay at anchor until daylight. The Yankees during the night became aware of his presence, and made preparations to give him a warm reception when day dawned. They conceived the idea, so it was said, of fastening the ends of a long chain to two of their gunboats, with which they proposed to drag off the anchor of the _Albemarle_, by running a boat on either side of it. Captain Cooke heard the hammering on these boats during the night, and divining their scheme, when daylight dawned, turned the prow of the _Albemarle_ towards the _Southfield_, one of the boats to which the chain was attached, with full steam ahead, and struck the Yankee boat with terrific force, sending it to the bottom at once.

Captain Cooke then turned on the _Bombshell_, which surrendered. The _Miami_ was next attacked, when it made its escape by flight down the river. Her captain was killed, and some of her guns disabled before she got out of range.

By this bold and successful stroke of the _Albemarle_, the whole river front of the town was exposed to the fire of the gunboat, and it may be depended upon that Captain Cooke made good use of the advantage thus gained. I heard General Wessels, the Yankee commander, after the capitulation, berating the gunboats for their failure to protect his water front, attributing his defeat and capture to this. This may have been true, but I hardly think so. General Hoke was a fine soldier and officer, had gone there to capture Plymouth, and would have been almost sure to have succeeded without the aid of the _Albemarle_, but would have no doubt lost many more men than he did. The Confederate loss was small.

It was said that there were some negro soldiers at Plymouth, who took to the swamps, were pursued by Dearing's Cavalry and left in the swamp, dead or alive; none of them were taken prisoners, or brought out of the swamp. Some of the prisoners captured were identified as deserters from the Confederate service; a court-martial was convened later, and several of them were hung. These men were North Carolinians.

COL. JAMES DEARING WINS PROMOTION

Col. Jim Dearing, of Campbell County, won his brigadier-generalship at Plymouth. He was put in command of the artillery and cavalry by General Hoke. Dearing was a dashing officer, and in this battle performed his part with great skill and bravery, charging a fort with artillery, running the guns by hand right up to the fort, pouring shot and shell into it until the white flag was sent up. The first day he surprised, by a quick dash with his troopers and artillery, another fort, running in on the Yankees so suddenly that they had no water to cool their guns, and could only fire a few rounds, when they sent up a white flag. General Dearing was mortally wounded in a hand-to-hand fight with a Yankee officer a few days before the surrender. This officer also received his death wound in the encounter. It has been said that General Dearing was shot by one of his own men, who was trying to shoot the Yankee officer. Dearing was brought to Lynchburg where he died in a few days.

MARCH ON WASHINGTON, NORTH CAROLINA

After securing the trophies of the victory won at Plymouth, which consisted of 1,600 prisoners, 2,000 muskets, and 25 cannon, and a large quantity of ammunition and provisions, and sending them up the country, General Hoke and his little army marched on Washington, situated about 30 miles south of Plymouth, on Tar River, near the head of Pamlico Sound. The town was reached about the 25th of April. The troops formed in line of battle, ready for the attack, when it was found that the place had been evacuated by the Yankees, who doubtless had heard of the fate of Plymouth and its garrison, and fearing lest they should share a like fate, had decamped, bag and baggage.

NEWBERNE AGAIN INVESTED

From Washington the command marched towards Newberne, situated, as before said, on Neuse River, not far from where it also enters into Pamlico Sound, some 35 miles still further south.

On the 2d of May, the town was invested and preparation made for the attack, when orders were unexpectedly received to withdraw and march up the Neuse to Kinston with all possible speed.