xt7pnv996j4m https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7pnv996j4m/data/mets.xml Johnston, I. N. (Isaac N.) 1864  books b92-114-27763386 English Printed at the Methodist Book Concern, : Cincinnati : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. United States. Army. Kentucky Infantry Regiment, 6th (1861-1864) Libby Prison. Atlanta Campaign, 1864. United States History Civil War, 1861-1865 Personal narratives. Four months in Libby  : and the campaign against Atlanta / by I.N. Johnston, Co. H., Sixth Kentucky Volunteer Infantry. text Four months in Libby  : and the campaign against Atlanta / by I.N. Johnston, Co. H., Sixth Kentucky Volunteer Infantry. 1864 2002 true xt7pnv996j4m section xt7pnv996j4m 


I         AATPl


       Capt. Em N. JOHNSTON,
     Co. X, Sixth Kentu ky Volunteer Infantry.


This page in the original text is blank.



               AND THE





         C INC IN NAT I:
            FOR THE AUTHOfR.



    Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864,

              BY I. N. JOHNSTON,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern
                    District of Ohio.



  I MIGHT plead, with truth, " the solicitations
of friends " as my apology for appearing in
print; but as mine is an unpracticed pen, the
public, perhaps, may demand a better reason.
Without any crime I have been an inmate of
the foulest of Southern prisons, and a com-
panion of the brave men whose condition and
treatment has called forth the sympathy of
the nation, and which will yet call forth the
condemnation of the civilized world. I was
one of the party that planned and executed
one of the most remarkable escapes known
to history-the record of which will be en-
during as that of the war itself. The labors
and perils of which I was a pattaker will, I
am well assured, give an interest to these
pages which the charm of style can never im-
part to a tale wanting in stirring incident. I
write, then, simply because I have a story to
tell, which many will take pleasure in hearing,



and which, I doubt not, in after years will
employ a more skillful pen than mine.
    Those with whom I have sat around the
 camp-fire, shared the weariness of the march,
 and the dangers of the battle, will like my
 story none the less for being plainly told; and
 my companions in Libby, and the partners of
 my flight, will think of other matters than brill-
 iant sentences and round periods, as they read
 these pages. I claim no leadership in the en-
 terprise of which I write-the time has not yet
 come to give honor to whom honor is due; the
 reason of my silence in this respect will ap-
 pear in the course of my narrative.
   When I began these pages I had no inten-
 tion of carrying the readlr beyond my escape
 from Libby. I have, however, been induced
 to add an account of Sherman's great campaign
 against Atlanta; and while this will, perhaps,
 have less interest for the general reader, it will
 possess more for those who were with me in
 that memorable march. My friends, I am sure,
 will be indulgent; may I express the hope that
 all others will have their sympathies too much
 aroused for our brave boys, still in prison, to
be critical                I. N. JOHNSTON.




                  CHAPTER I.
 character of the age-My own experiences-Object of my
 book-Entering the service-Elected Captain-The 6th Ken-
 tucky-Its deeds..........................P.........PAGE 9

                 CHAPTER II.
 My first battle, and how I felt-Wounded and left on the
 field-Disasters of first day and final triumph ................... 21

                 CHAPTER III.
 The battle-Am taken prisoner-Trip to Richmond-Inci-
 dents on the way-Star-Spangled Banner sung in Dixie-
 Kind treatment-Arrival at Richmond ............................. 33

                 CHAPTER IV.

 Richmond-The prison-Treatment of Prisoners-Plans of
escape-Sad Failures-Prospect of success ....................... 46




                  CHAPTER V.
                  THE TUNNEL.
  A new plan adopted-Nature of the task-In the tunnel-
  Maj. M'Donald's adventure-My own disappearance-Given
  up as escaped-Fislar's story ..............................  PAGE 65

                 CHAPTER VI.
                 CELLAR LIFE.
  My home and company-Great alarm-Still safe-The work
renewed-Success-Last night in Libby-Words on leaving. 81

                 CHAPTER VII.
                 THE ESCAPE.
  The last night-Farewell to Libby-Sufferings and dank
gers-The North Star our guide-The faithful negro-A false
friend-Almost retaken-The contrast ............................. 95

                CHAPTER VIII.
  In the swamp-Meeting our pickets-Warm welcome-Kind
treatment-Interview with General Butler-Arrival at Wash-
ington..............................         113

                 CHAPTER IX.
            RETURN TO THE FRONT.
 Return home-How I spent my furlough-Join my regi-
 ment-Changes-Forward movement-Tunnel Hill-Rocky
Face-Resaca ...............................     127




                  CHAPTER X.
                ON TO ATLANTA.
 Confidence in our leader-Tunnel Hill and Rocky Face
 Mountain-Pursuit of the enemy-Johnston's strategy-In
 command of my regiment-Battle near Dallas-Night on the
 battle-field-Reflections........................................PAGE 142

                  CHAPTER XI.
 Reminder to the reader-Sherman, Howard, and Thomas in
 council-The attack and repulse-The Sixth Kentucky in front
 again-In the trenches-Guarding train-Forward march. 155

                 CHAPTER XII.
 Pine Mountain and death of Gen. Polk-Georgia scenery-
 Before Jenesaw-The unreturning brave-Marietta ours-
 Across the Chattahooche ...........................  167

                 CHAPTER XIII.
              BEFORE ATLANTA.

 Intrenching all night-Gallant exploit of the First and
 Third Brigades-Atlanta in view-In the trenches before the
city-The Sixth Kentucky ordered to Tennessee-Turning
over my command-A parting word ............................  180

This page in the original text is blank.



             CHAPTER I.


 Character of the age-My own experiences-Object of my
 book-Entering the service-Elected captain-The 6th Ken-
 tucky-Its deeds.

 I AM a soldier, a plain, blunt man; hence,
 what I have to say will have the directness of
 a soldier's tale. The age in which we live is a
 heroic one; boys who four years ago were
 at school or guiding the plow are now he-
 roes; we have battle-fields enough for all
 time, and names on the page of history
 eclipsing those of the great captains of the
past-names that the world will not willingly let
die. Reason as we may, there is a charm about



the story of a great war that few are able to
resist; grave scholars go into ecstasies over
the tale of Troy; and the youth, whose reading
is confined to the old family Bible, devours
with avidity those portions which tell of the
exploits of Samson or the triumphs of David;
and it is the fearful conflicts which they de-
scribe that give such interest to the Paradise
Lost and Bunyan's Holy War. What boy's
blood has not been stirred by the story of
Bunker Hill, the exploits of a Marion, and the
fall of Yorktown What youth has not wept
as he read the story of Warren's death, or the
sadder story of the execution of Hale, the
proud young martyr of liberty  and in genera-
tions to come the youth of this land, with burn-
ing cheek and tearful eye, will read how Ells-
worth fell, just as he had torn down the em-
blem of treason; and how the gallant young
Dahlgren died, almost in sight of the sad cap-
tives whom he desired to deliver. Wlo has
not been thrilled with horror at the cruelties



inflicted by the minions of the British King
upon the colonists taken in arms for a cause
the most noble, and consigned to the living
grave of the prison-ship and yet these cruel-
ties have been repeated, with even increased
malignity, at Belle Isle and Libby Prison.
  I have experienced nearly all the fortunes
of a soldier, and can therefore speak from my
own personal observation. I have felt that ar-
dent love of country which has taken so many
from the peaceful pursuits of life to the tented
field. I know something of the stern joy of
battle, the rapture of victory; I am familiar
with the long, weary march, want of food, and
thirst, which amounts to agony; nay, I have
been stretched almost lifeless on the battle-
field, know something of the long, weary hours
of slow recovery from painful wounds, and,
harder than all, long months of sad, weary,
and almost hopeless captivity, and the joy, too,
of escape from what almost seemed a living
tomb. And though young, wanting the large




experience of some, and the culture of others;
yet my plain, unadorned story, I feel well as-
sured, will not be told in vain.
   I shall make no apology, then, for any liter-
 ary defects; the work I propose is not one of
 art or imagination, but a record of facts; and
 in whatever other respects it may fail, it will,
 at least, have the merit of truth. Moreover, I
 write mainly for my companions in arms, my
 comrades by whose sides I have fought, and
 with whom I have suffered; and if, in fighting
 over again our battles, rehearsing our common
 dangers, privations, toils, and triumphs, I can
 minister to their pleasure, my task will not be
 a useless one, and my little book will long be
 a link to bind together hearts that danger
 has only endeared.
 Nor am I without hope that I shall be able
 to awaken an interest for the soldier in the
 minds of those who never have passed through
 scenes such as I describe. He who unselfishly
bares his breast to the storm of battle, who



stands between peaceful homes and danger,
who suffers that others may be safe, certainly
deserves well of his country; and never have
any soldiers established a better claim on the
gratitude of their country than the soldiers of
the Union. As a nation, we have honored the
men who achieved our independence: we ought
never to forget those who struck for home and
native land, when all that the heart holds dear
was imperiled, and the very life of the nation
threatened by armed traitors.
  If a man's acts are regarded as the expo-
nents of his patriotism, mine, I feel assured,
will not be questioned, and yet at the same
time I feel at perfect liberty to honor kindness,
truth, and magnanimity in a foe; and wherever
these are found, even in an enemy, I shall
not be slow to acknowledge it. Having now,
as I trust, established a good understanding
between myself and readers, I shall proceed
to cultivate still further their acquaintance
by a free and unreserved statement of what-



ever may seem to be of interest prior to my
life in Libby.
   Like thousands of my fellow-soldiers, I am
a farmer's son. The only college with which
I have had any acquaintance is the old-fash-
ioned log school-house; and a few years ago
I as little dreamed of being an author as I
did of being a soldier; my only literary
achievements heretofore have been sundry
epistles to the fairer portion of creation, and
in that department I am not able to declare
positively that the pen is mightier than the
sword, as I rather incline to the opinion that
few things have more influence with that por-
tion of humanity than soldierly bearing and a
suit of Federal blue. And had I rested my
claims to their favor upon authorship, I fear it
would have proved but a broken reed. My
military career, however, I have not found to
be an impediment, and even an unsightly
wound was not a deformity in the eyes of her
who was dearest to me.



  You will be disappointed, kind reader, if
you expect from me a history of the causes of
the war. I am not sufficiently skilled in the
political history of the country for such an un-
dertaking, and, indeed, there is no necessity
for it, as it has already been done by far abler
hands than mine. Still, in a contest like the
present, every man should have reasons for his
course, especially when that course involves
personal danger and sacrifices the greatest a
man can make-sacrifices which, if need re-
quire, must not stop short of life itself.
  My own reasons are those of thousands of
others, but they are not those of the mere poli-
tician; they are the reasons of the man and
the patriot who loves his country with an un-
selfish love, and loves that country most, not
in the days of peace and prosperity, but when
the clouds are darkest and perils and trials
beset her round. A milder, freer Government
than ours the world never saw; we knew not
that we had a Government, by any burdens



that it imposed upon us; it was only by the
constant flow of blessings we enjoyed that we
were conscious of its existence. Our history,
though short, was glorious; our future full of
the brightest promise, and the hopes of the
toiling and oppressed millions of Europe were
bound up in our success.
  Though not an adept in the theory of gov-
ernment, I could not be blind to its practical
workings; though no politician, I could not be
insensible of the manifold blessings which it se-
cured. I remembered the wisdom of those men
who gave shape to our institutions; I remem-
bered the price at which independence was
purchased; I remembered that it was not with-
out blood that those blessings were gained;
and now that all that the wisdom of a Frank-
lin, Hancock, and Adams had devised-all that
for which a Washington had fought, for which
Warren had bled, was in jeopardy, I felt that
in such a cause, and for such a country, it
would be sweet even to die.



  No love of war and bloodshed led me to the
field; the charter of our independence was
sealed with blood, the very blessings of civil
and religious liberty which we enjoy I felt to
be purchased by noble lives freely given; and
to preserve them for generations yet to come
I felt to be worth as great a sacrifice. God
grant that the effort may not be in vain! God
grant that the fierce struggle which has filled
our land with weeping may be followed by all
the blessings of a lasting peace!
  Under the influence of the sentiments just
expressed, no sooner was the flag of my coun-
try insulted, and an attempt made by bold,
bad men to pull down the fairest fabric ever
devised by human wisdom   and cemented by
patriot blood, than I determined to do my ut-
most to uphold the starry banner; and seeking
no position save that of one of my country's de-
fenders, I volunteered for three years. Nearly
one hundred young men, mostly from my own
locality-Henry county, Ky.-enrolled them-




selves at the same time, and became soldiers
of the Union. We all had much around us to
render life pleasant, and home dear; but the
call of our country in her hour of need sounded
in our ears, and we could not permit her to
call in vain. After the organization of our
regiment-the Sixth Kentucky Volunteer In-
fantry-the young men from my part of the
county selected me as their captain, and I have
had the honor of commanding Company H, of
the Sixth Kentucky Volunteer Infantry, till the
present time. I have been with that company
in several of the bloodiest battles of the war,
and in a number of severe skirmishes; and
having seen its members time and again under
the enemy's fire, I take pleasure in saying that
a better and braver band of men never shoul-
dered muskets or faced a foe upon the battle.
plain. Indeed, the Sixth Kentucky has a rec-
ord of which it may well be proud; its steady
endurance in resisting an attack, and its fiery
valor when hurling its ranks on the foe, has



covered it with well-deserved renown. Shiloh,
Stone River, and Mission Ridge have witnessed
its prowess; its ranks have been thinned in
many a fierce and bloody assault, and of those
who yet follow its flag to victory, and of those
who fill a soldier's grave, it shall be said, they
were heroes, every one.
   And yet it checks out exultation, brings
tears to the eyes and sadness to the heart
to think of the sad ravages that war has made
in the ranks of those noble men. Where
are they now Some have met death on the
field, and -fill unmarked graves far, far from
home; others escaped death on the field to
perish by slow, wasting disease in camp and
hospital.  Some, with  mutilated limbs and
features disfigured with ghastly wounds, have
sought the rest, quiet, and sympathy of home;
while others in rebel prisons drag out a
wretched existence, feeling all the pain and
heart-sickness of hope deferred. On earth many
of them will meet no more; yet, when the




survivors meet in the years which are to come,
when the sounds of strife have ceased, they
will speak in low tones of the cherished dead,
and drop a tear to their memory, and remem-
ber with pride that they themselves were on
many a well-fought field with the Sixth Ken-


             CHAPTER II.


 My first battle, and how I felt-Wounded and left on the
 field-Disasters of first day and final triumph-Return home-
 In the field again-Battle of Stone River-Wounded again-
 Appearance of the country.

 MY first battle! What a strange sensation
 it was when I knew that I must soon engage
 in the deadly strife! The thoughts came thick
 and fast-thoughts of home, friends, and loved
 ones crowded upon me with a vividness and
 distinctness I had never known before. My
 past life came up in review, and the anxiety to
know the result of the next few hours was
painful. Should I fall on my first field, or
should I escape   Should I share the joy of
victory, or experience the sadness of defeat be
a prisoner in the hands of the foe, or, wounded,




lie helpless among the slain and dying make
myself a name, or fill a nameless grave, were
questions that would force themselves upon
my attention. Fearful I was not, but excited,
as every one doubtless is when about to enter
for the first time the field of carnage and
  I can imagine a young soldier gradually
becoming accustomed to warfare by engaging
at first in slight skirmishes at long range,
then in closer encounters, till he is, in a
measure, prepared for a general engagement;
but my first battle was none of those, but one
of the great conflicts of the war, in which
thousands went in tyros in the art of war,
and came out heroes, ever after confident
and bold-it was the bloody field of Shiloh.
  It is difficult, perhaps impossible, to describe
a battle; one pair of eyes can see but little
of a conflict ranging over miles of territory;
but there is something common to all battles
which every brave man sees and hears, such



as the shrieking of the shells, the blaze which
accompanies the explosion, the whistling of
minie balls, the clash and clang of steel, the
roar of the artillery, the rattle of musketry,
comrades falling, riderless steeds dashing hither
and thither, the shout of officers, the hurrah of
the charging line, the ghastly forms of the
dead, the piteous cries of the wounded, the
clouds of smoke pierced by the quick flashes
of flame-with all these every true soldier is
  Our regiment was not in the battle the first
day, but came up the following night, and
found Gen. Grant, who had been hard pressed
the preceding day, in grim silence awaiting the
coming light to renew the contest. Early in
the morning we were engaged, and the battle
raged with great fury till the middle of the af-
ternoon, when the enemy, after a stubborn re-
sistance, were routed, and a shout of triumph
went up from the victors who had changed
threatened disaster into glorious success.



    In that shout of joy I took no part-nay, I
 heard it as if in a dream; for about twelve or
 one o'clock a minie ball, striking me on the
 left cheek, passing through and coming out an
 inch behind and below the ear, laid me for a
 time unconscious on the field amid the dead and
 the dying. Reviving after awhile I slowly
 made my way to the rear amid a shower of
 leaden and iron hail. The loss in my company
 was one killed and fifteen or sixteen wounded,
 several of them mortally. This battle, as most
 readers are aware, began on Sunday, the 6th
 of April. Early in the morning the Confeder-
 ate forces, in greatly-superior numbers, under
 Generals A. S. Johnston and Beauregard, at-
 tacked Gen. Grant with great fury, the divis-
 ions of Sherman, M'Clernand, and Prentiss
 were driven back, and their respective camps
 fell into the hands of the enemy. They were
 stubbornly resisted, however, by Gen. Wallace's
 division, already weakened by having sent a
brigade to assist in another portion of the field.



These brave fellows nobly repulsed four differ-
ent attacks made upon them, each time inflict-
ing a heavy loss on the foe; but when night
fell much ground had been lost, and many a
heart was anxious concerning the morrow.
During the night, however, Buell came up, a
heavy burden was removed from many minds;
for those who had hitherto contemplated noth-
ing more than a stubborn resistance now felt
confident of victory. Nor were they disap-
pointed; the arrival of new troops infused
fresh vigor into those wearied with the des-
perate struggle of the preceding day, and ere
the sun had set the enemy had scattered be-
fore their resistless advance, the lost ground
was all recovered, the lost camps retaken, and
the roads southward thronged with a fleeing
foe. Johnston, the rebel commander-in-chief,
was killed upon the field on the first day; and
though Beauregard claimed a complete victory
on the 6th, and the rebel capital was wild
with joy on the reception of his bulletin, he




was compelled the next day to retire in dis-
order and seek safety within his fortifications
at Corinth.
   As soon as I was sufficiently recovered to
be removed, I was sent home to Kentucky
for treatment.  I reached   there faint and
weary, was seized with typhoid fever, which,
together with wounds, came very near termin-
ating my life. My first battle, however, was
not destined to be my last, and, by skillful
treatment, careful nursing, and the interposi-
tion of a kind Providence, I was finally re-
  As soon as I was able I rejoined my com-
pany; was with it during Buell's march through
Tennessee and Kentucky to Louisville; bore
its privations well; was in hearing of the
battle of Perryville, but our regiment was
not engaged. From Perryville owe marched
through Danville, skirmishing with Bragg's
rear-guard; thence to Crab Orchard and Stan-
ford; harassed him as far as London, Laurel



county-turned back, marched to Glasgow,
thence to Nashville, where we arrived about
the 1st of December, 1862.
  My first battle, as I have already stated,
was under Grant and Buell, against Johnston
and Beauregard; my second was against Bragg
at Stone River, under Rosecrans. Here, again,
it was my fate or fortune to be wounded-this
time in three places; but none of my wounds
were severe enough to make me leave the
field. Both my arms were bruised by frag-
ments of bombshells, another piece struck my
pistol which hung by my side, tearing the stock
to atoms and bending the iron nenly double.
I was knocked down by the violence of the
blow, and received a pretty severe wound
in my side, and I have no doubt but the
pistol saved my life. I had my blanket over
my shoulders during the engagement, and at
its close I found that four or five balls had
passed through it, several bullets also had
pierced my coat, and in looking at them I



seemed to realize how near to death I had
been, and felt devoutly thankful that I had es-
caped the dangers of another fierce struggle.
Soldiers look with pride at the flag, pierced by
the bullets of the foe, which they have proudly
borne through the din and smoke of battle, and
in that feeling I have often partaken; but I
shall ever feel grateful to a Wind Providence
whenever I look at my bullet-pierced blanket
and coat; and if I fall before the war closes, I
wish no more fitting and honorable shroud than
these will afford; if I survive, they shall be
preserved as relics of that eventful day, as si-
lent monitors to teach me thankfulness to Him
whose hand protected me in the hour of
  The battle of Stone River began on the 31st
of December, 1862, and continued till the
evening of the 2d of January. On the first
day our left wing was driven back, and we lost
about thirty pieces of artillery; but the attack
of the enemy on our center was repelled with



fearful slaughter, being subjected to a terrible
cross-fire of double-shotted canister from two
batteries, and the day closed with the contest
undecided. The next day the battle was re-
newed, our line being restored to the position
it had occupied on the morning of the previous
day, but without any very decisive result, the
spirit of our forces remaining unbroken. On
the third day attempts were made by the enemy
along our whole line, but it was not till about
the middle of the afternoon, however, that the
crisis of the battle came; both sides were using
their artillery with terrible effect; at last the
line of the enemy began to give way; Gen.
Davis was ordered to charge across the stream
from which the battle takes its name; the Colo-
nel of the 78th Pennsylvania, with his hat on
the point of his sword, led the way with a hur-
rab, a charge perfectly irresistible was made,
the enemy's line was broken, the divisions of
Beatty and Negley came up rapidly, our whole
line advanced and the day was won.



  My wounds gave me some inconvenience for
a few days; but as I had been much more se-
verely wounded before, I did not regard them
much, having learned to look upon them as the
necessary accompaniments of a soldier's life;
indeed, they were soon forgotten, and I was
soon again ready for the duties of my position.
It is truly wonderful with what facility man
adapts himself to circumstances; one would
think that such constant exposure to danger
and to death would beget great seriousness in
every mind, and yet the reverse seems to be
the case; after having been under fire a few
times, the soldier goes into battle with an alac-
rity and cheerfulness that is astonishing; he
becomes inured to the sight of wounds and
death, and though his comrades fall on either
side, and he has a sigh for them, he thinks not
that he, like them, may fall. On the march,
however, sad thoughts often come.
  The country between Murfreesboro and Nash-
ville is a beautiful one, but the rude hand of



war has despoiled it of much of its loveliness.
Fire is a necessity to the soldier, and no fuel is
so ready to his hand as fence-rails, and wher-
ever the army marches the fences rapidly dis-
appear; thousands upon thousands of fertile
acres are thus left without any protection, beau-
tiful shrubbery and choice fruit trees are ruined,
every green thing is taken from the gardens,
fowls and domestic animals are killed, and the
country which lately bloomed like' a garden
becomes as desolate as a barren desert. Little
mounds by the roadside tell that those dear to
some hearts are buried there; dead horses,
broken wagons tell of the waste of war; traces
of fire and solitary chimney-stacks bring up
images of homes once pleasant, and cause the
wish and prayer for the return of peace. Sol-
diers are sometimes thought to exaggerate the
scenes through which they pass; but let any
one who has seen Tennessee in the days of its
prosperity travel from Nashville to Chattanooga
now, and he will confess that no pen can de




scribe, much less exaggerate, the scenes every-
where presented to the eye. But a truce to
moralizing. After the retreat of the foe the
monotony of camp life began to be oppressive;
a desire for active operations, no matter by
what dangers attended, became general, and in
this feeling I confess I shared. The desired
change came at length, and with it a disaster
greater far than sickness or wounds-the suf-
ferings of a long and painful captivity, such
captivity as the dwellers in that synonym for
all that is foul and loathsome-Libby Prison-
alone have known.



             CHAPTER III.


  The battle-Am taken prisoner-Trip to Richmond-Inci-
dents on the way-Star-Spangled Banner sung in Dixie-Kind
treatment-Arrivil at Richmond.

  THE battle of Chickamauga, one of the most
stoutly contested of the war, may be said to
have commenced on Friday, the 18th of Sep-
tember, 1863; but the heaviest fighting took
place on Saturday and Sunday. We were out-
numbered, as is well known; but, by the per-
sistent courage of Gen. Thomas and his brave
associates, the enemy were foiled in their pur-
pose-which was to retake Chattanooga-and
the army saved from the. disaster which at
one time during the fight seemed inevitable.
Bragg, it is true, claimed a glorious victory;
but if battles are to be judged by their results,



his victory was a fruitless one, the prize which
was at stake remaining in our hands. True,
we lost many brave men, and much. of the
material of war; but Chattanooga, the key
of Georgia, was not wrested from our grasp;
the valor of the troops, too, was never more
nobly illustrated; for the stout men under
Thomas stood unshaken on Mission Ridge as
the wave-washed rock, against which the hith-
erto invincible legions of Longstreet, like
fierce billows, madly dashed themselves, to
fall back, like those broken billows, in foam
and spray.
  Men fell upon that field whose names never
will perish, and others, who still live, there
gained immortal renown. There fell Lytle, the
poet-hero; sweet was his lyre, and strong
was his sword. There the modest yet brave
Thomas displayed the qualities of a great gen-
eral, firm and undismayed amid carnage and
threatened disaster; and there Garfield, the gal-
lant and the good, won richly-deserved honor.



  But to my own story. I had been unwell
for several duys, but the excitement of the
conflict aroused and sustained me. Late on
the evening of Saturday our brigade was or-
dered to retreat, and, unable to keep up with
the main body, I was overtaken and captured.
I was taken in charge by two lieutenants, and
regret that I did not learn their names or
command, as they treated me with marked
kindness, as brave men ever treat a conquered
foe. They saw, moreover, by my appearance,
that I was quite ill, and this doubtless excited
their sympathy. Soon another lieutenant came
up; he was a Georgian, and drunk; he took
away my sword-belt and haversack. Being
cautioned by the others to take care of my
watch, I slipped it down my back unobserved by
my Georgia friend, and saved it for the time
being. My captors conducted me about a mile
and a half to the rear, and kept me there
all night. We had to pass over the ground
that had been fought over during the day; it



was thickly strewed with the dead and wounded
of both armies; their dead seemed to be in
the proportion of three to our one. I saw
Gen. Bragg for the first time at a distance.
The night was intensely cold for the season,
and I suffered severely, having lost my blanket;
moreover, I was exhausted from hunger, hav-
ing eaten nothing for two days. I was