This has certainly
been one of the most exciting days I have spent in the service. We crossed the
river on a transport to the Louisana shore and commenced our march at 4 a. m.
My orders were to capture all the horses, mules and cattle I could, together
with all arms and amunition. The country is a beautiful one, splendid
plantations just blooming with cotton, the first I have ever seen in such an
early stage. I mounted my men as fast as I could. The march was a perfect
ovation from the darkies who first time in their lives saw Yankee soldiers and
knew they were free; they rushed to the road, fell on their knees praying with
all the fervor and feeling of their race. "Glory be to God, freedom's come
at last," etc., etc. They brought us fruits of the finest kind, butter,
milk, eggs, chickens, in fact all they could get so happy to know they were now
free. Captain Whittle with a few men pushed in advance of the main body and
captured a large lot of guns and ammunition, pressed a number of teams into
service, brought back what he could and destroyed the balance. Lieutenant Mason
was sent off on another road and captured an old planter who was just starting
for Texas with all his slaves, mules, horses and wagons; in fact would have
gone in five minutes more but those five minutes were fatal to him. He had to
turn his face the other way; his negroes were nearly crazy, so glad were they
to escape. We marched about fifteen miles into the country and then, as
ordered, started back on our march toward the river. Such a sight as met my
gaze. All along the road were the negroes with their families, household goods,
everything they could gather in the short time, piled up in their immense cotton
wagons as high as they could get them. There must have been thousands, no end
to the children; such a happy set of beings I never saw before. They were to
use their own words, "Going to freedom." They knew nothing else,
cared for nothing else, they were now free, what they had looked forward for,
for years, had come upon them in a moment, nothing could induce them to stay on
their plantations. I told them our provisions were short; they cared not, they
could find something to eat, they cared not if they died, they were now free;
they sang and danced, kissed each other and all the extravagant demonstrations
of joy you can imagine were carried on. We marched to within five miles of the
river at dusk when we encamped for the night. We took supper in the house of an
overseer of Colonel Davis' plantation, who was boasting that his darkies would
not leave him, when all at once one of the men came and whispered something; he
jumped out of his chair and exclaimed "Good God, you don't say so, are
they all going?" "Yes," says the darky "All going, Massa,
and so is I," and he darted out of the room. Our officers could not but
help laughing, and the oaths of the overseer were frightful. At night all was
quiet but the singing of the darkies, which music was certainly remarkable for
the joyous tunes and remarkable words.
SOURCE: Joseph
Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph
Stockton, pp. 20-1
