Headquarters Dept. Of The Tenn.,
Near Vicksburg, June 27, 1863.
I mentioned in a former letter having received General
Sherman's to you. I cannot see how he could, in language that would not have
been fulsome, have given more expression of feelings of friendship toward me;
other than those feelings I have no right or reason to demand. He is perfectly
sincere, and I believe would rejoice at my success. He cannot make it for me, I
must do that for myself, through the aid of God by my own merit, if I possess.
These things are all hard for you to understand. The science of the soldier and
the art of war, obtaining in this fearful strife, differ from all that
experience or reading have given you knowledge of. The ordinary springs to
human action in a measure fail. We are brought to greater exactness of action.
An army is a vast machine of which each individual is an integral part.
Shiftings and change cannot easily be made without disarrangement of the whole,
never after a certain point, save by direction of the chief of all. Thus I report
to General Lightburn, he to General Blair, he to General Sherman, he to General
Grant, he to General Halleck, he to the Secretary of War, who in his turn goes
to the Commander-inChief, the President. But till you get to General Halleck,
that I have given illustration of, is only one of a series of systems
aggregating a vast whole. Now, General Sherman's power is really very limited;
he has no appointing power; he can only recommend to his superior officers, and
how often has he done this for me! He is no more responsible for my misfortune
than he would have been for wounds and death in battle. Some favors may always
be granted by superior off1cers; these favors have been lavishly extended to me
by all of mine who are in the field, by none more liberally than by General
Sherman. His bed, his table, his wines, cigars, everything has been placed at
my disposal. He has shared my blanket and laid him down by my side in the
bivouac before the dread day of battle. He did this on the night of the 18th,
before the first bloody assault. We have been baptized in blood together. He is
not an affectionate man, but on the contrary, austere and forbidding. He never
meets me without a glad smile and a warm pressure of the hand. You must not
doubt him. It was not by General Grant's order that I was assigned as president
of the court that sat at Milliken's Bend; but because I had intimated to
Colonel Rawlins, A. A. Gen., that I had not reported back to my regiment and
wanted something to do. The service was temporary, and has long since been
performed and reported upon. While presiding at the court, I became an actor to
some extent in the affair at the Bend when the negro regiments were attacked,
and officially made some report of the matter to General Grant. Out of that
matter grew a necessity for other and important service which I was assigned
to, and thus I have gone along from day to day, hardly anticipating a permanent
charge till after the reduction of Vicksburg. I cannot tell what they are doing
at Washington. Mr. Chase has small power in the War Department. I have reason
to believe I was nominated before my papers arrived, and before active
influence was made for me, and that I lapsed with several score of others, from
excess of numbers and the insignificance of my name; so common a name is a
greater barrier to success than can be imagined by those who are not fellow
sufferers. If Grant is successful, I still hope there is something bright for me,
if not, I must do my duty, unmurmuring, if hopeless. If I perish without the
glittering surrounding of rank, I trust I shall be able to die like a soldier.
You speak of the little diary I sent you as if it was
important. I thought it might be of some interest to the children as showing
something of life on the march, and the effects of war, but considered it
hardly worthy of second perusal. I am surprised you should have thought it
worth while to send East what was only meant for the home circle. You need give
yourself no uneasiness about my deprivation from exercise and my removal from
the saddle. I was but a brief time on the steamboat, and my feet are oftener in
the stirrup than on the ground.
You will still compliment my letters. You read them with a loving
mother's eyes, too partial a judge. I see so much I cannot write. If I could
seize opportunity, and describe what I should so much like to describe as it
passes before me and when the fit is on, I might write something worthy. But as
time passes, new events obliterate the recollection even of old excitement, and
the excitement of yesterday is old with us to-day. I wrote you in my last
letter that I had been detailed on delicate service, and prepared you for what
I thought might be a prolonged absence. The occasion was my going with a small
escort under a flag of truce which was a feint to meet or endeavor to meet
General Taylor, one of the commanders of the rebel forces. With this object I
took a steamboat at Milliken's Bend on the 22d. Debarking there at daybreak,
rode to Richmond, or what was once Richmond, twelve miles distant, and there
found the bridge burned. I ought to say that after the fight at Milliken's
Bend, the enemy fell back to Richmond, and there entrenched themselves. That we
sent out forces to dislodge them, that they were defeated, driven out, and the
town, a very pretty place containing some two thousand inhabitants, court
house, jail, large hotel, etc., was burned; nothing that was inflammable was
left; everything but the bricks and mortar was consumed. The enemy before
retreating had burned the bridge themselves, and so, from its charred remains,
I was compelled to construct another, to cover the deep bayou. Some two hours'
labor effected this object, and with a bit of cracker and coffee, made in a tin
cup, for breakfast, forward we went, and oh! how desolate was the country we
crossed, and how dreary the ride! The fleeing enemy had been panic-stricken,
and all along the road for miles had thrown the loads from the wagons and sometimes
abandoned the wagons themselves. Bedsteads and mirrors, glass, crockery, bags
of meal, clothing, sewing machines, baskets, boxes, and trunks, with pots,
pans, and camp equipage, lay promiscuously scattered. But the most noticeable
objects were the corpses of the unburied dead, smoked and blackened in the sun,
too carrion even for the vultures and buzzards. At every bayou crossing,
bridges torn up and fresh delays. Finally I reached the Tensas, twenty miles.
Here, too, the bridge was burned, but on the other side was a house giving
promise of water. The bayou water is not drinkable, and we were parched with
thirst. A woman appeared on the opposite bank to show us the ford, and this was
strange, for we were far inside the enemy's lines. A struggle through the mud,
a ford almost a swim, and we were over. The woman fairly cried with joy to see
us — the first real, genuine Union woman I have met in the South. Her husband
was under the ban and on our side; he was poor and had been hauling cotton for
transportation North — an unpardonable sin, and she had been made to suffer.
Along with four young children, she had been persecuted by the retreating army,
and no wonder she over flowed with joy when her friends came in sight. She gave
me some buttermilk and some eggs, and after resting an hour, on we went. Soon
the enemy's pickets were in sight, but instead of approaching, seemed to be
fleeing. In vain the sergeant waved his flag, conspicuous enough, for it was a
sheet borrowed from the steamboat berth and tied to a pole. As we marched
forward they marched back, until at last they fairly made a run for it;
thereupon we halted and tried another coaxing process, and at last, after
making various signs, they approached or rather waited our coming with the
timidity of young fawns. We explained the nature of our flag ; they were very
glad to know we were not going to fight them, and said they had watched us from
Richmond and hovered in our front all the way those ten long miles and had sent
back for reinforcements, and had come near shooting one of our men who had
stopped to take the water out of his boot at the ford. We reassured them and
rode forward for about the space of a mile, when we were encountered by the
reinforcements, dismounted, drawn up in line of battle. Their captain was
stupid, and after the pickets had informed him we were a flag of truce, he
insisted upon mistaking us for rebels, and boring us with the most absurd
questions about the strength of Grant's army, the condition of affairs at
Vicksburg, etc. At last we drove it through his head that we were Yankees, as
they call us, and as soon as light broke through upon him, he became dumb with
astonishment; nevertheless we marched forward well enough for four miles and
then stopped to camp. We continued winding through the dense woods by the side
of bayous or the shores of little lakes until at last, crossing another bridge,
we encountered another picket. It was interesting to us to pass this picket,
for it was near nightfall, the rain began to come down heavily; we had ridden
some thirty-two or three miles and were near Delhi, where we expected to find
General Taylor and a pretty large force of the enemy. But they halted us and I
came to a parley. The officer was peremptory. I brought a stunning argument to
bear — that I had been permitted by all the other picket guards to pass, why
should he refuse, and by what authority — at last prevailed, and on to Delhi.
Three or four miles brought us to the camp guard of the outside regiment. We
had penetrated thirty-six miles inside of the enemy's lines since morning. They
looked on us with wonder and astonishment, called no halt, and on we went right
through their camps. The soldiers gathered in groups by the wayside to gape at
us; the officers ran out of their tents; my escort was only ten men and a
sergeant. We enquired the way to headquarters and reported to the commandant,
and demanded to see General Taylor. General Taylor was not there. This was what
I wanted and hoped for, for I knew if he was not at Delhi he must be at Monroe,
sixty-five miles further up, and I wanted to penetrate the country as far as
possible. Meanwhile it had rained very hard, and was still raining. We were wet
through. The question of quarters was interesting, for it was almost dark. The
commandant evidently did not know what to do. I suggested the hotel. He
brightened, and we were permitted to go there and seek quarters. They did not
know how to receive a flag. Their pickets ought not to have let us pass without
first reporting and disarming us; but there we were and there was no help for
it. Now imagine a small town with a railway passing through, scattered houses
and a large square frame hotel, your son followed by his troops and a crowd of
soldiers, officers, citizens, old and young, all agape with astonishment;
evening, and muddy. Landlord comes out uncertain whether to receive us or not;
anxious for his pocket, more anxious for his house. At last the pecuniary
prevails, and he thinks he can make provision for us, but can't for the horses.
Under shelter, and immediately afterwards under strict guard and surveillance:
got some supper, corn bread, fresh pork, and something they call coffee, made
of parched wheat. After supper the commandant called and demanded the
despatches; refused to deliver them, on the ground that my orders were
peremptory to deliver them to General Taylor in person. The commandant, a Major
Beattie from Texas, was green and nonplussed; he didn't know what to do,
finally concluded to put us under guard and himself in telegraphic communication
with General Taylor. At last I got rid of him and went to bed, wet through to
my buff, and got a sound sleep, to wake and find myself close prisoner in the
camp of the enemy; breakfast, the duplicate of the supper, and after the
breakfast the show began. I seated myself on the upper porch and the
"butternuts" passed in review. Some citizens came to talk to me, some
officers. The same old story of what you read in the newspapers — '”they are
united, intend to fight till the last man is dead,” and all that sort of thing.
Finally, Brigadier-General Legee, Aide-de-Camp of General Taylor, made his
appearance, and now I found I had to deal with a soldier and a man of sense. Of
course I was baffled, as I expected to be. He insisted upon my despatches and my
return; no further penetration to their stronghold except at the head of an
army. I was satisfied, however, for I had informed myself upon the principal
point I was after. So I delivered my despatches with as good grace as possible,
and received the necessary returns. I found General Legee, aside from his
politics, to be a fine soldier and a most admirable gentleman. He had graduated
at Cambridge, and afterwards read law there; had spent some time in Cincinnati,
and knew a good many of my friends . . . and in short, we soon found we were
old acquaintances almost, and sat down to have a good time; that is, as good a
time as gentlemen can expect to have without wine or anything else but water to
drink and no cigars to smoke; nevertheless, we had a comfortable chat. He made
my imprisonment as light as possible; and next morning with an escort from the
enemy we retraced our steps without adventure, stopped at Richmond, or the
cisterns of Richmond rather, for water and a bite. While the men were resting,
I wandered through the gardens; they could not burn them, but what a picture of
desolation they presented. For the first time flowers seemed out of place, the
fruit, apricots, peaches, and grapes, was just ripening. Some frightened,
superannuated negroes came up to gape, and I hurried away from the smouldering
ruins after extorting from them a promise to go out and bury the dead upon
consideration that they should possess themselves of all the property abandoned
on the road. Back to the Bend, and rapidly put the same in a state of defence,
for unless I had checkmated them, they had calculated to come in. When I say
they or them I always mean the enemy, the only terms almost by which we know
them. On board a boat at 7 P.m.; found a sick lady who had taken refuge with
her servants, reassured and encouraged her; down to General Dennis to report.
Sat with him till two o'clock in the morning, then up the Yazoo; out at
daybreak, and reported to General Grant at breakfast time. Yesterday I rested,
for I was a little tired, and to-day am anticipating an order to go to Grand
Gulf to report to General Banks with despatches, and while I rest I write you
this tedious letter. You may see by it at least that the grass does not grow
under my feet.
SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of
Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 307-14
