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History of Captain Will. J. Muse
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Events: Diaries |
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I have been urged for many years by my family and friends to place on record my own personal experience of the War Between the States. I have hesitated to do so from the fact I did not feel equal to the task.
Signed: W. J. MUSE _____________________________________________________________________________________________ At six o’clock on the morning of December the 5th, 18__, a male child was born to Colonel Joseph Colston and Mary Ann Muse. This event occurred at a log cabin – still standing near the Lewisburg turnpike road just 4 ½ miles west of Shelbyville, Bedford County, State of Tennessee. That was me, William Jasper Muse. The Muses came from an old English stock of people from Staffordshire, England. At an early date, prior to the Revolutionary War, three brothers, James, George, and Augustus Muse immigrated to this country. They landed on the coast of North Carolina. Augustus, not being satisfied with this country, returned to England and lived and died a bachelor. James Muse settled in North Carolina. George Muse in Virginia, with only an imaginary state line between them. These two brothers married and raised families and from them came all the Muses in the United States. The immediate descendents of these two brothers took an active part in the Revolutionary War. George Muse, of the Virginia house, was an aide to General Washington, and was with him at the surrender of Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown. James Dunn Muse was with General Francis Marion in all his exploits. Thus it will be seen that the Muses come of Revolutionary people. The Muses were active men in state affairs, and owing to states interest they naturally drifted apart. Therefore the descendents of James are now scattered through the States of North Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas. While the descendents of George are to be found in Virginia, Maryland, District of Columbia, Kentucky, and Missouri. They have, as a rule, been men of strong convictions, above the average in intellect and physical strength, with a courageous, kindly cheerful nature, and strong in family affiliations, which is the great bulwark of any nations strength. They are a moral, virtuous people, with a high sense of honor and integrity in their dealings with their fellow man. They have filled, with credit, many important positions in state and nation, and have entered all professions and occupations known in our country. As a rule, however, they have engaged in agricultural pursuits. In religious belief the James branch holds to the Baptist faith to a large degree. The George branch takes the Presbyterian creed as their standard. In politics, in ante bellum days, they were old line whigs, since the great war between the states they have, with few exceptions, adhered to the principals of Democracy. From the beginning they have been a patriotic people. Their names can be found on the muster roll of every war fought in the United States from the Revolutionary to the present time. There has been a Muse in every first Tennessee Regiment ever organized in the state. There were 56 Muses in the Confederate Army, representing nearly every Southern state. This is briefly and concisely the History of the Muse Family. My immediate family and my own life history up to the close of the war in 1865-6. These four brothers immigrated to Tennessee with their father, Little Jimmie Muse, from Buncomb County, Tar River, N.C., when they were quite young men. They first settled in Franklin County, but later removed to Bedford and located on Sugar Creek, four or five miles west of Shelbyville. Here they lived and died at a good old age. My father and mother were the eldest of their families. I, too, was the eldest of seven, not only that but was the eldest grandchild on both sides of the house. We were four boys and three girls. My eldest sister, however, Catherine Missouri, died when a child. This left six. William Jasper, Samuel Jefferson, John Tyler, Joseph Eugene, Mary Abigale and Martha Blakemore. All grew to full maturity and all of whom are still living except two, Sam J., and Joseph Eugene. My grandfather, John T. Muse, was a United Baptist preacher and built the First Baptist Church in Bedford County, Tenn. He began to preach at fourteen years of age. A box was put in the old fashion pulpit so he could be seen while preaching. He was educated, learned, eloquent and forceful, and preached a life away and finally died in his pulpit at Richmond, Tenn., in debate on Baptism with Elder Callingsworth a Campbelite preacher in 1850. Uncle Jessie Muse was also an educated man, and at one time in life, it was said of him, the most polished man in his manners in all Bedford County. My childhood and boyhood days were spent on the farm. The only education I had up to the breaking out of the war was a three months public school during the winter. My father was a public man. He frequently held some office, was a contractor and trader in horses,(?) made good Southern connections with my grandfather, John T. Muse. So that he was away from home a great deal of the time. When I reached the age of seven, I was put in charge of the farm and together with my brother Sam, who was next to me in age, and with the advice of my mother, I made a pretty good farmer and we kept things going at home while our father was off on his business. When I was fifteen years old my mother died. Then my duties doubled for I had to look after the interest of my little brothers and sisters. The death of my mother also brought my father closer home. He gave up his trips South and arranged his business so he could be home nights. For two years I was thus employed. Then the dark cloud of the great civil war began to lower and thicken. I always had a military spirit. I had read of the Revolutionary and Mexican Wars and when a boy of ten I was captain of a company of school boys at Old Friendship Church. Hugh Looney made up poplar guns and cedar swords. And we had paper caps painted polkberry red, and Jack Smith, our school teacher, was our instructor in tactics. My father was a Colonel of Militia, and I went with him to the muster grounds and watched the movements of the men. I was an expert shot, too. My father had taught me how to shoot and the use of firearms. About this time my father married again, and thus being relieved to some extent of the care of the little ones, I caught the spirit of war and, while on a visit to Uncle Asa Muse near Tullahoma in March, 1861, I enlisted in a Tullahoma Company that later became Company (B) of Peter Turney’s First Tennessee Regiment Confederate Infantry. Peter Turney of Winchester, Tenn., was then raising a regiment of soldiers for the Confederate Service. By the first of April, 1861, eleven companies had been formed from the counties of Franklin, Lincoln, Coffee, Grundy, and Marion. And, as I understood, had reported to Mr. Turney ready for duty. Turney went to Montgomery, Alabama, where the Confederate Government was then located, and offered his services to Mr. Davis. He was refused on the grounds that the State of Tennessee had not seceded from the Union, and for the further reason they had no immediate use for the troops. But as soon as the State of Virginia seceded and the Confederate Government was removed to Richmond, Virginia, Mr. Davis ordered Mr. Turney to organize his regiment and bring them to Lynchburg, Virginia, and be mustered into the Confederate States Service. So that on the first day of May, 1861, these companies, eleven in all, assembled at Winchester, Tennessee, and organized. Peter Turney was elected Colonel. James H. Holdman, Lt. Col., Pierce B. Anderson of Tullahoma and D.W. Holdman of Fayetteville, Majors.
There were one hundred and ten men in the company and they proved in the end to be one of the best body of confederate troops that ever marched under St. Andrews Cross. Personally I did not know a man in the company when I joined it. I had seen a few of them, but had no acquaintance. So I was an unknown private in the rear ranks.
I remember one instance that took place at Bristol. We were delayed for several hours, and each company acting independently, passed the time in various ways. Company B’s Captain Bennett at its head marched in a wide street along the railroad. We came up with a company of New Orleans Zouaves taking their exercises. They were dressed in their peculiar uniforms and were splendidly equipped with Mississippi rifles and well drilled. Captain Bennett’s company had no arms nor uniforms. We were a motley, awkward lot. The Captain of the Zouaves brought his men to a halt and gave the command “Three Cheers For Tennesseans” Hip, hip, Huzza, Huzza, B A H. Captain Bennett sprang to the front of his men and said “Three Cheers For the Louisiana Tigers.” It is impossible to describe the scene that followed. The boys took off their caps and every known note in the human voice was put in that cheer. It was not a cheer. They jumped up and down, threw their caps in the air, and holloed as though they were in a fox chase. The Tigers laughed themselves sore. The two captains advanced and shook hands. After a few compliments, took their companies back to the depot, and pretty soon the train rolled out.
As I have stated before the 1st Tennessee Regiment had eleven companies and two Majors. Under the tactics adopted by the confederate military regulations, only two companies were allowed to a regiment and one major. General Kirby Smith, then Adjutant General, so informed Col. Turney and ordered him to disband one of his companies and select a Major for his regiment. One of the companies disbanded and its members, officers and men joined the other company. But not so easy the selection of a Major. This brought a clash between the friends of Majors Anderson and Holdman. That for a time threatened the disruption of the regiment. Factional war was with difficulty averted. But the election finally resulted in Major Holdman being chosen. Major Anderson was then assigned as Captain of an artillery corps, and was later on killed in battle in Southwest Virginia. The regiment having quieted down and properly organized under the confederate regulations, was on the 8th day of May, 1861, mustered into the Confederate States Service for the period of twelve months. I must retrospect a little at this point in order to bring out a bit of history of Company B that clung to them through the war. When this company was ready to leave for Winchester that first May morning, 1861, all Tullahoma and the surrounding country were there to see the boys off. Songs, speeches, jokes, prayers, and tears were indulged in. I had no one there to shed a tear for me, so I stood off and looked on. Finally we got away and on the trip to Winchester someone accidentally knocked my hat out the car door. It was a new hat, too. So I had to go into Winchester bareheaded. By some means I don’t know how, Company B got a lot of blue caps with long bills. They lay aside their hats and donned these caps. No other company in the regiment had these caps, why I don’t know. When this company first went out we had a lot of bad characters in our company. And during our stay in Lynchburg they got into all kinds of trouble and kept Captain Bennett in hot water all the time. They would sneak through the guard line and go down to Lynchburg and knock Negroes in the head, then turn houses over and commit all sorts of trouble. And because of their blue caps we were named “The Blue Headed Devils”. This name clung to our company through the entire war. Thus it must not be taken, however, as an index to the general character of Company B. It was composed of as good a men as any company in the regiment and no braver or better soldiers to be found anywhere. We very soon got rid of the bad characters, but “Blue Headed Devils” stayed with us to the end. This company were devils too when it came to fighting.
Finally Colonel Turney seeing he was at his wits end, went to see Mr. Davis and laid the case before him. The President came out, got in front of these guns and told Colonel Turney to form his men in a hollow square around the guns. When this was done, Mr. Davis said, “Tennesseans, I have offered you the best guns we have at the present time. It is impossible to arm you with rifles. I know you are marksmen of the first class. I have witnessed that fact in the Mexican War. I know you scorn to use anything but a rifle. But his is the best I can do. Let me say this to you. Take these guns, learn the manual of arms with them and prepare yourselves for the coming conflict, and the first battle you are in capture rifles from the enemy.” Now this may not have been the exact language of the President, but it was the substance. With a yell that was heard for miles around the men broke ranks and rushed on the guns, hardly giving the President time to get down. They tore open those boxes and in thirty minutes every man in the company was fully armed and equipped. Real camp life now begain in earnest. Cadets from the Virginia Military Institute were sent out to drill and instruct the men in the use of arms. Two hours, morning and evening we had to go out and go through these movements. A great many annoying incidents occurred during this training of these raw recruits. Some men never could learn the manual of arms and others couldn’t drill. But these were soon weeded out and assigned to some other duty in camp. But there was one thing they all learned. That was how to shoot and they were always ready to fight. Right here I want to go back a little ways. When I joined the Tullahoma Company I didn’t know personally a single man in it. I was a little bit of an insignificant looking fellow and nobody seemed to pay the least bit of attention to me. But about this time the companies of the regiment began to form themselves in little squads of eight and ten – messes they were called – and appoint someone to draw rations and cook for the mess. I remember how forlorn I felt at this time. I was in doubt if anyone would take me in their mess. But pretty soon little William McGinis (Gin) Haggard came over where I was sitting and asked me to join his mess. Besides myself, as the future proved, there was in that mess some of the best blood in the 1st Tennessee Regiment. William “Gin” Haggard, Moore Jordan, Joe B. Marshall, James W. Smith, Frank Morgan, and W. J. Muse. All these soldiers survived the war except “Morgan” who died a prisoner at Fort Delaware. Smith and Haggard died since the war. All the others are living at this writing. While we were at Richmond, other commands were coming in and camped all around us. But they were detached. There was no organization into brigade or division and company. Every regiment was trying to master Hardee’s tactics. I believe it was about this time that I was first noticed by my officers, and even then they didn’t know my name. It came about in this way. The cadets had our company going through the drill of arms. We were in open ranks and at bayonets charge. He came down the line and took hold of the muzzle of each gun and pushed the gun sharply. I believe every man gave way either in body or arms until he reached me. He found my gun taunt. He tried again and again to move me but to no effect. I noticed after that he dept an eye on me. I usually went through every command with precision. The secret of that was this. When I was a school boy ten years old – Old Friendship Church – Jack Smith, teacher. I was Captain of a company of school boys. Hugh Looney made up poplar guns and cedar swords and we had paper caps painted polkberry red. In this way I learned something about military tactics. I have therefore been a captain since I was a small school boy. About the first of June the 1st Regiment was ordered to Harpers Ferry. And on the eighth of June we held an election and voted eleven hundred in favor of the State of Tennessee going out of the Union. The fact that Tennessee had not seceded sooner was the reason we were called to Virginia to be mustered into the Confederate Service. I think there were five or six Tennessee Regiments organized and accepted by the Confederate Government before Tennessee went out of the Union. Some of these were then in Virginia, but not with the 1st Tennessee. A short time after this election, the 1st Regiment was ordered to Winchester, Virginia. We went into encampment near Darkstown. The object of this move was to confront General Patterson who was in command of the Federal Forces in that country. It was while there that we were first brigaded. This brigade was the Sixth North Caroline Regiments with General Bernard Bee (?) of South Carolina as Brigadier General. General Joseph E. Johnston was in command of the Confederate Troops. After a general review Johnston was ordered to join Beauregard at Manassas. We broke camp and marched over to Piedmont Station and took a train for Manassas. About half of Johnston’s army was cut off by a breakdown on the cars. Including the 1st Tennessee, Sixth North Carolina Regiments, and eight companies of the Eleventh Mississippi Regiment. However, we reached the juncture and double-quicked the six miles to the battlefield in thirty-five minutes, formed and advanced but by this time the fight was practically over. General Bee had taken a prominent part in the fight. Leading his brigade to a final charge. After he had named “Stonewall Jackson” he fell as the enemy gave way and took to flight. We marched back to the juncture and camped that night. Next day moved out to a small stream where we went into encampment for a week or so, then moved to Briato Station where we remained until winter set in. We then went into winter quarters near Dunfrees on the Potomac. Here we remained until spring. We were then ordered to Yorktown and while there our twelve months service expired. We re-enlisted for the war and reorganized the Regiment. Turney was re-elected Colonel, John C. Shackelford, Lieutenant Colonel, V. McLaughlin, Major. The two Holdmans and nearly all the company officers returned to Tennessee. I was elected 2nd Lieutenant of Company B. During the organization of Johnston’s army in the spring of 1862, all the Tennessee Troops then in Virginia were sent back to Tennessee army except the 1st, 7th, and 14th. These three regiment were brigaded together, and Colonel Robert Hatton of the 7th was appointed Brigadier Commander.
As General Hatton was rushing his troops along the line we passed General Johnston and President Davis surrounded by their officers. Both Davis and Johnston spoke encouraging words to Hatton. Hatton soon formed his men in an old Pine field, forced them to the front, and riding down to the center took off his hat, wheeled his horse and moved his men forward at a charge. The roar of musketing was so great not a command could be heard. But the Tennesseans knew what to do. They leaped forward with yells that shook the earth, and drove the Yankees off the field and saved the day of the Confederate forces. But alas, the gallant Hatton went down at the head of his command. The 1st Tennessee lost 85 men killed and wounded in fifteen minutes. I got a Minnie ball through my right thigh. Night came and put a stop to the fight. I was carried to the West Junction railroad where I remained on the cold wet grass all night. Next day the train ran out and I was picked up, with others, and carried to Richmond and put in the 3rd Alabama Hospital. This was a tobacco factory where I remained for three months before I was able for duty. Lying on the cold wet ground gave me a cold which settled in my wound and gave me a great deal of trouble. At this stage of the war our supplies were much better than they were later, and we had good medical treatment. I remained at this hospital until I was ready for duty again. In the meantime General Johnston having been wounded at Seven Pines, General Robert E. Lee had taken command of the army of Northern Virginia, and fought the seven days battle in front of Richmond defeating McClellan at every front and finally driving him in his gun boots in the James River, thus saving Richmond. After the death of General Hatton, General James J. Archer of Maryland was given the command of the Tennessee Brigade. Archer was a West Pointer, and belong to the old army, was on frontier duty when this war broke out, resigned and came to Virginia with the 6th Texans. During the seven days fight around Richmond this brigade suffered great losses in killed and wounded. The 1st Regiment lost the gallant Lt. Colonel Shackelford and Major McLaughlin and many other brave and good men. Then it was that W. J. George and F. G. Buchanan became Lt. Colonel and Major respectively, and no braver nor efficient men ever held a commission in the confederate army.
I divided my men in squads of ten and told them to shift for themselves, but keep right on to their commands. The squad I was with met a hog one evening. We were almost famished. I ordered one of the men to kill the hog. He did so and we dragged him up to a little branch and dressed him in the water, covered him over with dry grass and set fire to it. As soon as the fire was out we cleaned that hog, cut him up and cooked and ate him. Before he got cold, without salt or bread. The next day we crossed into Maryland we came to a farm house with a large patch of tomatoes ripe and of the finest variety. I had never eaten a tomato before. I think I ate a peck of them. That evening we came up with our command, then at Frederic, Maryland. I was completely worn out. My wounds were still troubling me, and I had to use my sword and a cane to aid me in walking. It was a day or two after this before Lee moved forward again. It seemed General Lee’s plan was to give Maryland an opportunity to cast her fortunes with the Confederates, and at the same time secure such supplies as was greatly needed and then recross the Potomac into Virginia again without a fight. The plan was a failure. General McClellan had been again assigned to the command of the Federal forces and was moving down on Lee from Washington with 60,000 fresh, well-equipped troops. Lee took his stand at Sharpsburg on the eastern bank of the Potomac. But before this however, Lee had sent Jackson with his division which included the Tennessean Brigade to Harpers Ferry to capture 16,000 Yankees. Jackson had recrossed the Potomac near Sharpsburg to the Virginia side and by a forced march was soon in front of Harpers Ferry. I had been with the army just five days and as I had been absent for several months I suppose they wanted to give me another treat – so I was detailed to take command of the skirmish line. I delayed my men at the base of a hill, thickly studded with small cedar trees. We soon struck the outpost of the enemy and shoved them in. In the meantime the Tennessee Brigade was coming up at a quick step. I pushed my men on until I came to the foot of the hill overlooking the Ferry. And here I waited until Archer came in and quickly formed his men. The timber had all been cut on this side of the hill with their logs downhill, and it looked almost impossible to go through them. But, at the word “Forward Tennesseans”, the men sprang up and over the timber as though it was only sage grass. We drove everything in front of us and when we reached the top, the Yankees had all been driven in and a white flag shot up from the fort. No other troops had been engaged but the Tennesseans. General Jackson soon came up and a formal surrender of 16,000 Federals and as many stands of arms. Jackson wheeled his division back to Sharpsburg to help Lee. We reached the left line about four o’clock in the afternoon of the 17th of September, 1862. Just as Burnsides was driving the Confederates back and threatening to force them on Lee’s center, Jackson put his men in action at once. The Tennesseans leading in the charge with Colonel Turney in front of all. We were repulsed on the first charge, but falling back to a road and reformed and reformed and at the command “Charge Tennesseans” the rush forward was irresistible. Nothing but a mountain could have withstood it. The Federal gave way and the day was saved for Lee and perhaps his destruction. In this charge on that stone fence before the enemy was dislodged, many a Confederate soldier went down. Just as we leaped the rail fence out of a corn field to an open space, I was shot in the left side but I kept going with the rush until we got within about a hundred yards of the stone fence behind which the Yankees were throwing hot shot into us. I was shot through the left thigh. This knocked me down. Captain Daniel – six feet two and a forceful man – gathered me up as though I had been a child and carried me to a large black locus tree, standing in a hedge, and stretched me out behind it. I think when he left me he was sure it was for the last time for I seemed to be bleeding from every pore. He then rushed on to the charge and was himself wounded through the shoulder just as the Yankees broke to run. I remained where Captain Daniel left me until the litter corps came along and put me on a stretcher and carried me back to the Field Hospital. There was a big stack of wheat straw scattered out, and the face of the earth seemed strewed with dead, dying and wounded soldiers. It was then dark and the battle was over. Late that night Dr. Dance of Lynchburg, Tennessee, then brigade surgeon, got to me. There was a young man named Finley lying near me, who belonged to another command, was suffering internally. He begged Dr. Dance to attend him at once, but Dance said, “Here is one of my own lieutenants – I must attend him first.” I hardly knew what was going on around me. The fatigue of the forced march to Harpers Ferry and back, and the loss of blood left men in a semi-unconscious condition. But when Dr. Dance inserted his fingers into my wounds to see the extent of my injuries, I think I came to life again for this was the most painful ordeal I had ever endured. There were no bones broken however, and after dressing my wounds he turned his attention to Finley. But nothing could save him. He died before morning. When Lee fell back across the Potomac I was not able to be moved. Therefore fell in the hands of the enemy – a prisoner of war. The dead had been buried, and shelters were put up over the wounded, and here we stayed for six weeks. Those who were able to travel were ordered to Baltimore for exchange. The cartel of exchange was in force up to that time. As an officer, although on crutches, I was put in charge of a squad of men on this trip and when we reached Baltimore, and while waiting under a railroad shed to be sent to the boats of Chesapeake Bay, a young man on the outside – seeing my uniform of an officer – managed to get through the Yankee guards and approached me to get such information as I could give him, etc. When he left I walked with him to the guard line. An old Yankee Dutchman who could neither speak nor understand English, thrust his bayonet at me. He went through my clothes, but did not do me any harm. We were then sent to a livery stable on the Bay and remained there in the stalls that night. Next day a band of Sisters of Charity from the city, headed by Mrs. Ada Eggerston, came out with carriages loaded down with clothing of every kind, and distributed them among the old soldiers. Mrs. Eggerston’s daughter asked me to go through with her to see who was in the greatest need of supplies. She stayed with us until we boarded the boat for our homeward journey. I will have more to say about this noble woman later on. The trip down the Chesapeake Bay and up James River to Richmond was a most delightful one. The exchange was made at Harrison’s landing on the James. When I reached Richmond about the first of November, 1862, I still was on crutches and went at once to the 3rd Alabama Hospital. They very cheerfully took me in and I remained here until about the first of February, 1863, before I was able for duty. In the meantime stirring events had taken place. The second battle of Manassas and Fredericksburg had been fought. The Tennessee Brigade had taken a conspicuous part in both battles and had lost some of her bravest men. At the Battle of Fredericksburg, December 13th, 1862, Colonel Peter Turney, was commanding the Tennessee Brigade at the time, was dangerously wounded through the mouth and neck, from the effects of which he never entirely recovered. He was never able for field duty again, but retained his rank as Colonel of the Regiment to the end. He was given a command in Florida and served in this capacity to the close of the war. Lt. Colonel W. J. George succeeded to the command of the 1st Tennessee after Colonel Turney was disabled, with Felix G. Buchanan as Major. These brave and capable officers commanded the Regiment from that time on to the end. *typist’s note: page 14 of this document is missing. I will continue on with page 15, which picks up in the middle of a paragraph.* he refused to speak. I then loosened my pistol and drew my sword and ordered the guard to present arms. As he did so I saluted with my sword. Archer sat like a stone. I ordered the guard to shoulder arms and resume his walk on his beat. I then put up my sword, turned on my heels and entered the house and finished my dinner. I soon heard Archer and the jingling of his staff leaving. I never did quite understand it. I never saw Archer again until we were going into the fight at Gettysburg. He was captured there and next time I saw him was on Johnson’s Island – a prisoner of war. He was exchanged for a Federal General early in 1865, went home and died before the war closed. The day General Archer was captured in the Battle of Gettysburg, General Heath was wounded. We were then in General A. P. Hill’s corps and had been since the death of Jackson. Heath was our division commander. Brigadier General Pettigrew of North Carolina succeeded Heath, and Colonel William McCombs of the 14th Tennessee succeeded Archer. The history of the great Battle of Gettysburg, and as I believe, the turning point of the Confederacy, has often been told and told much better than I can describe it. Through somebody’s fault – not Lee’s – it is said to be Longstreet’s failure to obey orders – that battle was lost to the Confederates. The Tennessee Brigade lost heavily in this fight. Many of its bravest and best men went down. Of the 1st Tennessee, the gmebody’s fault – not Lee’s – it is said to be Longstreet’s failure to obey orders – that battle was lost to the Confederates. The Tennessee Brigade lost heavily in this fight. Many of its bravest and best men went down. Of the 1st Tennessee, the gA few however got back alive. Among the number was Major Buchanan, who then became the commander to the end. Colonel George remained a prisoner until the close of the war. When it was all over I was on the ground with three holes through me, and pronounced dead by our surgeon. Here I remained for eighteen days – long after Lee had left Pennsylvania and recrossed the Potomac and was on Virginia soil again. There is this personal incident about that battle which I wish to relate. How long I remained conscious after I was shot I don’t know. The last thing I remember I was lying in the hall of an old Dutchman’s stone house stripped to the waist, with my head resting on an inverted chair, strangling for breath. The wound through my right lung bled profusely and I was bloody from head to foot. Before I lost consciousness some kindly Yankee soldier gave me a canteen of whiskey. Soon after this the late brave, big-hearted Major Thomas D. Gregory of Winchester, but the Company E Lynchburg Rangers, looking around for some missing men found me in the old Dutchman’s residence. He said I offered him a drink out of the canteen but he refused, for the reason that I needed it worse than he did, but often said afterwards that it was the first and only time in life he refused a drink of liquor. Major Gregory went back to camp and reported to my company the place and condition he found me. Doctor Pearson, J. Monroe Jordon, and William G. Vaughan volunteered to look after me. I never knew when they came and didn’t know anything until ten o’clock the next day. All I know is what these boys told me afterwards. When they first got to me Dr. Pearson said I was dead, they could do nothing for me. But Monroe Jordon wouldn’t give up. He had Pearson to examine me again and again. Finally Pearson said, “There is a spark of life left.” Monroe said, “As long as there is life there is hope.” He and Bill Vaughan and Dr. Pearson pulled off their coats and rolled up their sleeves and went to work. The first thing they did was to strip me naked and bathe me in warm water. They then took me to a room and put me in a feather bed. They poured hot coffee and whiskey down me, and rubbed me with hot cloths. They kept this up all night long – never stopping, never giving up. These brave men fought for my life as valiantly as they ever fought on a field of battle. At last about ten o’clock next day their efforts were rewarded. I opened my eyes to consciousness. Dr. Pearson was leaning over me from one side of the bed, Monroe Jordon was on the other side and Bill Vaughan was at my feet. Dr. Pearson said, “Lt., those eyes are not dead yet.” I could see and hear but I couldn’t speak or move. I knew who was with me and I knew I was in the hands of the bravest and truest friends a man ever had. Next day these boys put the feather bed, pillows and bolsters in an ambulance and with Jordon on one side, Vaughan on the other and Dr. Pearson in front, they moved me back to the field hospital which was a large barn with many stalls. They put me, bed and all, in one of the stalls. They stayed with me as long as they could. When Lee moved his army back to Virginia, they had to leave me, and there I was a prisoner of war again. Jordon and Vaughan are still living. Jordon near Shelbyville, Tennessee, and Vaughan in Louisville, Kentucky. Pearson – I do not know what became of him. Jordon often tells this story and starts it by saying, “When we gave him coffee he would frown and shake his head, but when we gave him toddy he would smile and lick out his tongue and smack his lips.” I stayed at this old barn for eighteen days and had the best attention by the Union doctors and nurses. The family whose bedding I was using found their property long before I left, but they would not take it from me, but was on hand to get them when I was through with them. I am sorry I have forgotten their names. I was shipped to Baltimore, Maryland, from Gettysburg and put in a hospital a few days. Then put on board the sailship Len with 2,700 other wounded prisoners. We were sent to New York City, and thence up East River to David’s Island. I was on the upper deck of this boat. Mattresses had been spread all over the floor for the wounded men to rest on. We were guarded on this trip by a company of raw Dutch troops who had never seen service. The officer in command was a handsome well-educated fellow, and he did all in his power to make us comfortable. But not so his men. They were brutal. One of them came where I was lying and demanded that I get up and wait on some of the prisoners who were making complaints. I couldn’t understand what he said. Finally he raised his gun and struck at me with the bayonet. Just as he made the stroke the young officer came up and knocked the gun to one side, or the bayonet would have gone through me. As it was it went through my clothes, the mattress and into the floor of the ship. They put him under arrest, but I don’t think they ever punished him for it. Another distressing thing to me on that trip was a storm that struck the ship that night. I made sure I was gone this time. It thundered and lightened, the wind blew and the ship plunged and rolled, so we could hardly keep our places on the deck. But we finally pulled through the storm about daylight, and I tell you I was thankful for our safety. I had much rather have gone through a battle. When we reached David’s Island, we found everything nice and clean. The buildings were layed off in rows with nice cots and clean bedding. We had every attention and comfort a wounded man desired. While here we were visited by the people of New York City – especially the Southern sympathizers. The ladies of the city sent us 500 boxes of cigars. They were distributed among the prisoners by wards. I got my share with the rest and this was the first and only time in life I ever used tobacco in any form. I think I smoked about one-third of one cigar – just out of respect for those ladies – but it took me about three days to do this. I gave the rest to my cot mates. These same ladies sent us before we left the Island $5.00 apiece in greenbacks. This was the first greenback money I ever saw. I kept that. There was a church on the Island and an Episcopal preacher. We attended church every Sunday and amused ourselves in many ways to pass the time. When we had been there about two months all the private soldiers who were able to leave were sent through for exchange – and I believe this was the last exchange they had from that time to the close of the war. All the officers were sent to Johnson’s Island prison, and this was a prison in the strongest sense of the word. No more ladies with flowers, cigars and $5.00 bills. Here I entered on a prison life of eighteen months duration. Of this I will relate in another chapter. It is impossible to relate the horrors of this prison life. I was already weakened by wounds and exposure, and how I lived through this eighteen months of hell is remarkable. The great Creator certainly endowed me with great vitality and indomitable willpower. I was very small physically, not weighing at any time more than 115 pounds, and still in my ‘teens. Then add to this short rations and rough unwholesome fair, confinement in close quarters and the cold winds, of a Northern climate, and you have a picture of the condition that the bravest and strongest would hesitate to face. And yet I went through it all and kept upon my feet all the time. This prison consisted of thirteen two-storied frame building – or blocks as they were called, enclosed by high plank fence with parapets and sentinel boxes at the top. It was said there were fourteen acres in the enclosure. One side running along close to Lake Erie. These blocks or houses were in two rows with a wide avenue between. The upper stories were reached by steps built from ground on the outside. Two of these blocks near the entrance to the prison, were cut up into small rooms for the higher grade officers. All the others had six rooms each. Three below and three above. Here were confined in all, 3,000 officers of all grades and Major Generals down to Lieutenants. These blocks were all numbered as were the rooms. My block was No. 5, room 3 in middle room upstairs. There were tiers of bunks placed along the walls with a square space in the center for the prisoners to occupy during the day. There were about fifty in my room. The dining rooms were detached from these quartets where we would go to get our meals. But later when rations were cut to one-fourth we divided our room mates into small messes and drew our supplies from the commissary and did our own cooking. In my mess was Jake Anthony, Harry Wright, Jim Grant, and myself. Anthony now resides in Nashville, Wright some place in Florida, and Grant in Courtland, Alabama. All living at this writing and doing well. Every form of amusement and occupation was resorted to, to help pass the time. We had preaching, prayer meetings, Sunday schools, dancing schools, debating societies, music schools, theaters, law schools, etc. We made several attempts to break out and escape. Some were killed, others captured and brought back. A few, however, escaped. The Yankees kept the gunboat Michigan in Lake Erie near the Island ready for any emergency and they came very near at one time to need it. Lt. Beal organized an expedition in Canada to come down and capture the Michigan and Nelson and free the prisoners. But he was betrayed and the project failed. There was a full regiment of Federal soldiers on guard all the time, with Colonel Cook commander. Escape seemed impossible with these troops and a battery of artillery on hand – the gunboat in the bay and surrounded by a high fence and closely guarded day and night. Also on an island two miles from the mainland. Yet a few did make their escape and got away. One other little incident in the summer of 1864, a cyclone struck the island one night after everybody had gone to bed. It took a very narrow path, however, but was quite destructive where it touched. When it reached the prison it leveled the upper fence, taking the guards with it. Block No. 4 was demolished. It came across the avenue and took the top off of No. 5 and turned the house halfway over, thus leaving the foot of the steps leading to the second floor about ten feet from the ground. But the boys didn’t stop for that, they left their bunks and leaped off like a drove of sheep. The Yankees began to fire into us, thinking, as they said, we were trying to escape. We rushed to some ditches that had been cut for drainage. Several men were wounded – two in my room. The damage was soon repaired and everything moved along as usual. There were some noted southern men in the prison from first to last. Men of all professions and occupations of the old South. Men, too, who became famous since the war. There were quite a number of Tennesseans in this prison. Colonel William Frierson, of Shelbyville, Captain Allen Woods, Major Watson, Major Jacob Anthony, Captain Harry Wright, Lt. James Grant, Hiram Stephens, James B. Nance and many others whose names I do not now recall. The weary months dragged on, not a ray of hope seemed to be in sight. But for all of this, these brave half-famished men were as true to the cause as hopeful of ultimate success as in the beginning. No one faltered, and took the oath to return home. Time passed on – we survived the dreadful winter of 1864-5. And finally about the first of March, 1865, an order came to send a batch of officers through the lines for exchange for an equal number of Federal Officers of same rank. In making this selection the longest term prisoners were taken. It so happened – why I do not know – I was selected to go in the first batch. So that on the 14th of March, 1865, I was carried on a litter (being too weak to walk) to the little tug boat which steamed across the bay to Sandusky, Ohio, where I boarded the train for Baltimore and from there down Chesapeake Bay to Point Lookout for exchange. I reached Richmond, Virginia, March 22, 1865. While waiting for exchange I drew what confederate money was due as Lt. For two years, bought a new gray uniform and rested up a few days. On the morning of the 2nd April, I took a train at Richmond for Petersburg, Virginia. I went out on the line where the 1st Tennessee was encamped to see the boys. I had not been there two hours until Grant moved his entire army on Lee and the fight was on that resulted in the surrender of Appomattox. I had not been exchanged. I could not get back to Richmond, so I fell in line and went back with my command and surrendered April 9, 1865. On the 11th day of April we walked over to Lynchburg and spent the night in the fair grounds where we were sworn into service four years before. Not being able to walk over there with the other boys I returned to Richmond where I remained with some friends until the latter part of July. I wrote to Mrs. Eggerston that I was there and couldn’t get away. There was no railroad transportation South at this time, and no Confederate soldiers were permitted to go to his home by way of the Northern route. She wrote me she would be in Richmond, giving the day, after the body of some Maryland General, and that she would take me back to Baltimore with her. This she did and I hadn’t been in Baltimore long until General Moore of that post ordered all confederates, not citizens, to leave Baltimore in three days. Mrs. Eggerston was working hard to get me transportation to Nashville, but the three days ran out before she succeeded. She hid me in her house for more than a week before she got me the pass. While at Mrs. Eggerston’s I met the Randall family, her neighbors. It was James R. Randall of this family who was the author of “Maryland, My Maryland.” I saw him frequently while there. It was his brother, William, who finally – after I took my leave of Mrs. Eggerston – piloted me through Baltimore in the alleys and backstreets at midnight to the Baltimore-Ohio Railroad depot. When we got near the depot young Randall stopped in the dark and said, “I will go a little in advance. You follow and keep your eyes on me. When I get in the car you are to take, I will pull out my handkerchief.” We bid each other goodbye and I followed instructions and was soon moving out of Baltimore on my way home. I never saw that young man again. He is now dead. My pass was good to Nashville by way of Cincinnati and Louisville. I had no trouble until I got to Louisville. The conductor on the train running into Louisville in taking up his coupon, also tore off the L & N coupon. I didn’t notice the mistake until I presented my pass to the agent at Louisville to have it validated. When the agent saw the error he said I would have to go back and get the coupon. I told him this was impossible, but he was firm and cut me off without further words. I went out of the office feeling pretty gloomy. I was a long way from home without a cent and not a friend seemingly. But as I walked out a man, who had heard the conversation in the office, followed me. He said, “You go with me. I will see that you get to Nashville.” He led me to a freight train just ready to pull out and full of Yankee soldiers going to Nashville. He told me to get in. I did so and took a scat among the soldiers. We reached Nashville at night. My ticket was out. I was sixty-five miles from home and not a cent in my pocket. It was with difficulty I could walk. All tattered and forlorn, I made my way from the depot up Church Street looking for some place to spend the night. I soon came to the old Nicholdson House (now the Tulane Hotel). I climbed up those steps to the high porch and called for the proprietor. Mrs. Nicholdson answered the summons. I soon told her my story. She very graciously and cheerfully offered me the hospitality of her home for the night. Next morning when I bid her goodbye, she said, “Don’t buy a ticket. Just get on the train and when the conductor comes around tell him who you are and where you want to go. The conductor is Berry Holt. He will take you to Wartrace.” This kindly act of that noble woman enabled me to reach my father’s house that day. Mrs. Nicholdson. To that noble band of southern women whose devotion to the Southern cause has challenged the administration and profound gratitude of a patriotic people. She is now enjoying a well-earned reward in a Higher Realm. I shall never forget Berry Holt’s look that day. It was only a look for he uttered not a word – when I made known to him my condition and desires – with a beaming, benignment countenance and a smile that could come from nothing but a great big soul, he passed on. It was in after years before I saw him again, when associated together as county officials that I learned to live and respect this man whose body was too small to hold his great big soul. It is with great pleasure that I record the fact that Berry Holt is still living quietly and comfortably at his country home near Wartrace at this writing. When I reached Wartrace another problem confronted me. I was still eight miles from Shelbyville – my objective point. The Shelbyville branch railroad was out of action. But here as everywhere, my luck or fortune was with me. Colonel John W. Tilford was running a line of conveyances from Wartrace to Shelbyville. I soon learned the fact and approached Colonel Tilford and told him who I was and my wish to go over to Shelbyville. “What!” he said, “Are you Colonel Muse’s boy that has been gone so long?” He almost hugged me. “Get right in and go home to your father.” I gave one more rebel yell, for I had learned by this that my father was still living. For be it known, that there had been no communications with home folks for over two years and I had been in grave doubt, until that moment, as to what troubles awaited me on my homecoming. In this connection I wish to say that Colonel Tilford is still living at Wartrace where he is loved and respected by all who know him. The hack soon pulled out for Shelbyville, it was full and when we got to Horse Mountain, some of the passengers had to walk to the top. We jogged along and soon reached Shelbyville and drove up in front of the old Evans Hotel. I got out and hobbled over to my father’s livery stable. Although he lived four miles in the country on a farm, he owned and controlled a livery stable in Shelbyville. My Uncle Isaac Givens, who married my mother’s sister, was manager and Jake Hancock, assistant manager. When I got to the stables I saw that Uncle Ike and Jake didn’t recognize me, but they kept eyeing me from time to time. All at once I saw Uncle Ike spring to his feet, with his eyes beaming, and rushed towards me. “My God! Jake, it’s Will.” That was my family name. Here came Jake and Old Fount Daniel, the colored man about the stable, and such a recription as I did have. When it was all over they put me in a buggy and carried me to see my Aunt who, next to Mother, was the dearest and best friend I had on earth. The scene that followed this meeting is too sacred to be recorded here. I stayed with my Aunt all that evening and late in the afternoon Jake Hancock came out with a buggy to take me to my father’s home. When we reached the front gate it was dark. I tried to change my voice and ask if I could get lodging for the night. But I couldn’t deceive that grand old father. I saw him detach himself from some others on the front porch, whom I rightly surmised were my brothers and sisters, and came briskly down the front walk. When he got to the gate he threw it wide and said, “My dear son, you have come back to your old father at last.” I said, “Yes, father, I told you I would come back.” He was a powerful man physically and he gathered me up in his arms as though I had been a child and carried me to the house. When I entered the portals of that home that night, the period of my absence since I left it was four years, four months and six days. Here my story should end, and it does virtually. But there are a few things I wish to add in concluding. There was rejoicing in that household that night. I had found the family just as I left it, except the added years to the children. My brother Sam, two years my junior, and who had served the last three years of the war in the 41st Tennessee, was at home and my coming completed the family circle of those living. Of these six brothers and sisters, Sam J. and Joseph E. are dead. John T. lives at Belfast, Tennessee, and the two sisters, Mrs. J. A. Barnett, and Mrs. W. H. Earnhart, reside in Jonesboro, Arkansas. Our father died in 1872. He had married a second time and left a widow and eight children, five boys and three girls. His widow survived him for many years, but finally passed away at Jonesboro, Arkansas, where all her children now live except one. They all have families of their own and are prosperous, honored and respected citizens. From the effects of the wounds, prison life and other exposures, I was a complete physical wreck when I reached home. It was almost fifteen months after I reached home before I was able to be up and about again. Six months of this time I was confined to my bed. During all this time the Doctors Blakemore, J. Hugh and Frank, of Shelbyville, faithfully attended me, and that too, was without compensation. They have both long since passed over to their reward, but they have left honorable descendents behind them whom I number among my friends. Finally I began to rally and in the fall of 1867, I was ready to begin life’s battles again. And now 42 years since the close of the war, I am still living, active, and enjoying reasonably good health and with very little touch of time in my personal appearance, in this, the Grace of our Lord, 1907. |
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