WAR LEAFLETS (cont.) Page 2
by Annie Cole Hawkins
I shall never forget one rainy day we sat and worked all the afternoon on some
little gray banners pretending to each other they were for certain young braves
in different companies and the next day when the soldiers started away one
fellow had both flags waving from his horse's head.
We had been working in secret and on the sly, but the grown girls found it out
and laughed, no little about us being set out, and rivals in love.
Dear old Bettie, How I loved her, in spite of the funny tricks she constantly
played on me. Many were the happy hours we spent together sitting under the
stars at evening, singing the war songs and talking about our rebel sweethearts
while the katy-dids cried in the dear old trees above us. I love to hear the
dear old katy-dids cry.
When I listen to its shrill katy-did...katy-did I am gently lifted and carried
over a wide sea of sorrow and trouble back to those happy hours and pleasant
homes. I am carried away back to those sun-shiny days when the South was
southern and friends were true and kind to each other, and when we had time to
think. talk. sing, and pray.
On a day which I will always remember with a smile. sister Mary, and I were
standing by a large rose bush near our mother's window, Mary was, making a
bouquet for the gallant captain of a company stopping in the neighborhood and
said I could make one and present it to the orderly.
We were talking in a high tone of voice about their fine looks, and how we would
give the flowers when mother called from the window, "Very well, young ladies, I
hear you, what are you doing out there?"
We are gathering flowers. " What are the flowers for? "We are gathering them to
make some nice bouquets." ell, what are the bouquets for? Never mind, I heard
you talking. "We are making them for Captain Wheeler and a high private. No, you
are not going to give those flowers, today, there has been enough of that, so
you just Captain Wheeler and high private in here, and get to your knitting"
"Oh! mammy, we want to do all we can for the soldiers.. Well, then, send them
something to eat and knit socks for them.
We answered that flowers suited better in summer than did socks but mother had
her way as she always did in such matters, and the Captain and his orderly
received no floral tributes from us that day.
I want to tell the young girls of today that as long as there was a hank or ball
of wool yarn to be found our parents made us knit socks for the soldiers.
We were allowed to give them to our favorites after we were forced to knit them.
When sister Sallie knit her first sock, she broke down and wanted to quit. She
put up every conceivable plea to get out of the work. When we tried to shame her
for not wanting to knit but one sock, she said she just knit it for a poor one
legged soldier.
When she finished the pair, she was so proud of the work that she kept them to
give to the first pretty soldier she saw. After a little time she thought she
had found the proper fellow, and proudly handed them over. but when she heard
that he said that I was his sweetheart she slipped to his knapsack and stole
them back to be given to the next young hero that happened to strike her fancy.
We used to tell her that it took all summer for her to knit a pair of socks,
then she was all fall and winter trying to give them away.
We were always glad to have a nice pair of socks for a good soldier and could
proudly say that we knit them ourselves. No, no, we didn't tell any of them that
our mother stood over us with a switch and made us knit.
There were times and spells when we really enjoyed the work or maybe when we saw
and knew that we had it to do, we would make a lively, cheerful thing of it and
sit and rock, and knit, and sing:
"A soldier is the lad for me
A brave heart I adore.
And when the sunny South is free,
And fighting is no more,
I'll choose me then a lover brave
From out that gallant band.
The soldier that I love best,
Shall have my heart and hand."
I may add here that farther south many ladies were put in prison by the Yankees
for singing secession songs, and houses were burned for the same cause. We
always shouted our war songs when the country was full of Confederates I could
never find words to half express the feelings and experiences and the most
hateful sights we witnessed when the Yankees came. It was at Christmas in 1863
when General Smith's command came through and stopped in slow but sure, pursuit
of the dashing "wizard of the saddle", our gallant Forrest.
There had been a lull in the passing of the enemy in this part of West Tennessee
for some little time. Our smoke houses, corn cribs, and wheat bins were filled
to the brim and we were little dreaming that the blue invaders were about to
swoop down on us like the locust of Egypt. It was a soft pleasant afternoon for
winter. Sallie and I had walked over to pay a little visit to our friend Sallie
McKenzie.
We were enjoying a pleasant chat when George and Malcolm McKenzie came hastily
in and said the earth was covered with Yankees. We thought at first they were
joking and trying to scare us but looking out we were startled and terrified to
see thousands of blue coats halted in front of the gate, and as far back as we
could see. We saw That they intended to camp in the neighborhood that night. The
advance guards were stationed on all roads at the crossing.
The officers and men were riding up and down the line pointing out directions,
giving orders and snorting about generally. How were we to get home through all
those horses and terrible looking men. Sallie, being naturally nervous and
easily scared, was frightened to death. We had seen and heard so much of their
cruel destruction, it was impossible for us to look on them as being human, but
I was determined to get through and go home. Scolding and petting Sallie by
turns to stop her cries I took her by the hand and started walking through the
dense blue line of Yankee Cavalry.
Walking on with beating hearts but determined steps, we passed the main body and
we were safely through and were. beginning to quicken our steps when a picket
stepped out in the road to halt us.
Sallie expected him to hack our heads off with his saber but I was never afraid
of anything in this world and trotted on telling him we had started home.
After we passed the pickets we sailed off in a run our feet scarcely touching
the ground.
We fairly flew over the short distance. On reaching home, we told as fast as our
short breath would allow the terrible news that the Yankees were coming. We had
scarcely told our tale of woe when amid the Oh's and groans of our listeners the
little brothers, Jim and John, came bounding in out of breath calling for mama
to look the Yankees are coming! We know, they are Yanks by the blue coats.
The little Negroes darted to the quarters telling in muffled voices, "de Yankums
is er comin des look et de guns, how dey do shine".
Even the dogs showed the whites of their eyes and stopped under the house. The
question and answer all round was where is papa. as if our dear father could
save us from the relentless invaders. He was returning from a walk on the
plantation and as he came in sight, he saw the long column of cavalry crawling
like huge venomous, blue snake to his home.
Knowing their destructive and thievish disposition, he stopped by the fence and
raising a couple of rails, laid a splendid watch on the fence, and placed the
rails over it, then came on home to find them swarming in the yard and grounds.
The staff of officers took possession of our house and our parlor was used for
headquarters. The camp reached from our house to Col. Garland Snead's covering a
distance of more than a mile.
The troops consisted of Dutch, all kinds of Yankees, Negroes and seemingly every
other nationality under the sun.
I can never forget the sickening scene when they began their work of
destruction. Bursting open the doors, tearing down and burning fences and gates,
cutting, and breaking up the family carriage, killing cattle, hogs, sheep,
geese, turkeys, chickens and every living thing they could lay their cowardly
hands on except horses, Negroes and our family , and we began to think the
prowling ruffians would cut our heads off next.
To see the little young lambs and calves and pigs running and bleating and
squealing as they were being hacked to pieces with sabers all for the sake of
destruction was horrible to behold. We had two smokehouses filled with freshly
killed and salted meat. The ruffians took all they wanted to eat and carry off
then piled the rest with the nice white lard arid made a bonfire of it right at
our window just for the sake of destroying and to keep the southern soldiers
from enjoying it.
The same vandalism was going on at Col. Snead's, Col. Bowden's and other places.
Only those who had similar experience can imagine our feelings to have the enemy
and such an enemy come and take possession of the house, table and servants
allowing us no chance to do anyway or anyhow. We had to get what we ate by
chance or by taking it from them in anyway we best could.
It being Christmas time, we had several girls and other visitors spending the
holiday with us and ,were driven and .herded, as it were, in an upper story.
Our only chance for help was in a little Negro girl who in terror had fled from
the Negro quarters and sought refuge wid de white folks!
We seized her and tamed her sufficiently for the trip back to the kitchen to ask
for something to eat. She was afraid to start back--said, Dey was des a killin
em po little calves and pigs des for nothin and dey sholy will kill me too."
"No, no Hannah", we pleaded, "The Yankees are good to the Negroes, They wont
hurt you, run a long and hurry back." She hesitated and said, "Dey sholy is
mean, half of dem cantt talk goo nohow, dem fine men settin at de table down
stairs talks des lack ducks roun de chicken trough".
We tried to explain that they were Dutch and talking German. All of a sudden she
rolled her eyes at us and half whispered, "Dey aint show nuff folks no how, is
dey? We assured her that whatever they were they loved little Negroes and would
be good to her. "Maybe dey will cause one what could talk goo, done call be
Sissy, I never did hear white folks call niggers Sissy befo.
She went down stairs and out creeping, dodging, and darting through the rough
sea of men. horses and wagons to Aunt Mary's house where we were sure to get the
best she had. Poor good hearted Hannah; we will always have sympathy for her. We
girls instinctively tried to keep away from the windows" Had it been otherwise,
father's admonition was enough.
There was a girl living in an obscure part of the neighborhood who had been
visiting friends and in returning home ran into Yankeedom before she knew it.
Being afraid to go on she took shelter at our house.
Evidently, she had never seen may soldiers or sights and doings as she witnessed
then. She was tall, and wore very long gold eardrops, it was impossible to keep
her from the windows. All our hints, cautions, letting window curtains down had
no effect. She would see!
Father was out walking the yard or the ruins and looking up he espied the girl
with the eardrops leaning far out, gaping around, taking in the sights camp
scene generally. He came back to the foot of the stairs and called me down.
I went down to him with a heart full of pity and sorrowfully asked, "What do you
want, Pappie'?" Raising his hand and shaking his finger at me in a significant
manner, he replied, "Make that long ear bob girl keep out of the window." I went
back and whispered to the rest what daddy had said. We all laughed and wondered
whether he had reference to the length of the girl or her eardrops.
Among our visitors that night was a widow who had with her a large ugly dog and
she seemed to suffer great uneasiness concerning its welfare. We were amused at
her efforts to get the terrified animal up into our quarters. She would run from
one window to another and plead with the Yankees not to hurt Beaver, her good
dog. Then she would call, "Here, Beaver, here, come up here my good fellow."
Every time Beaver started up some of us mischievous girls would hide on the
stairs and shake a broom at the good fellow and he would slink back down stairs,
the cowack! a big Yankee would hit him on the side with the saber which brought
forth a terrific yelp that sent the widow flying to another window to beg for
Beaver's life. Our girlish natures contrived to find the ludicrous through all
this trouble, danger and humiliation.
Ours was, an April sky--- sunshine-- and rain Sometime previous to this raid,
pappie had entrusted to my care a roll of greenbacks and admonished me to let no
one know that I had it, and not even himself know where I kept it.
I had carried the money for weeks and kept the secret, feeling that he placed
more confidence in me than any of the rest. I would have fought and perhaps bled
and died by my treasure.
We could see Yankee soldiers hunting about near the corner of the house and
chimney sticking their swords in the ground, probing for buried treasures while
all the time one of the horses was tied and stood mulching its corn right over a
jar of gold our father had buried at the roots of a walnut tree near the door.
Late that evening Dinah,a faithful slave woman for whom we shall always feel
regard and sympathy, came up and told us that the Yankees were telling the
Negroes that they were going to search the house and all the white folks before
they left and would dress the Negro girls up in their young mistress's clothes
and jewelry. When the rest began to hide, their most valuable trinkets.
I thought of the roll of bills I carried and a little flag I had made for some
brave young knight of the Confederacy. I knew it would not do for them to see a
Rebel flag in our possession.
They would burn the house and us in it. I held to it though, bits of silk were
too scarce in those days. I couldn't afford to burn it and didn't want it to be
found in the house, so I made my own plans how I would bravely escape with the
money and flag when the search began. I had all these thoughts and plans to
myself, a girl of fourteen and in all my anxiety it never even once occurred to
me to speak of it to another, yet a woman can't keep a secret to save her life,
Oh! what a night we passed, fearing an attack from General Forrest and thinking
it would be safer in case of a battle, we made our beds on the floor, but no
sleep came to sooth our troubled fears' that night.
The Yankee Colonel placed guards around the house and at intervals all through
the night we were startled by the loud blast of a bugle right at our ears. That
was answered by others far off down the line of camps.
I suppose they knew what it meant. I know I didn't, but there is one thing I
know, I will never forget the feelings of desolation and abomination that swept
over me at the sounds of those bugle horns.
When they started to move on the next day, the whole scene seemed in a wild
commotion. Men taking down tents, packing up, saddling, and hitching horses to
wagons, and ambulances and trying to destroy all that was left. I saw a dirty
sentinel stand and seem to take a savage delight in hacking to pieces the tender
sprays of a beautiful Arborvitae which was our mother's favorite shrub.
When she went to the parlor, or to the headquarters door and asked the white
eyed Colonel Warren to stop such useless ravages, he turned away with some
impatient, imprudent answer such as one of his kind only could make. She came
back with a wounded insulted look on her face. I shall never forget how she
looked when she turned to us and said, "Don't let my little boys ever forget
this." Said she might not live to see the war ended but she wanted them to
remember it all.
I have tried to obey her request and will think of it as long as life lasts. One
must grow old and cold indeed to forget such things.
It was four in the afternoon before all of the five thousand blue coats were
gone out of sight, Oh! what a scene of desolation they left behind. Empty
stables, corncribs, wheat houses, smokehouses, not fences or gates on the place,
shrubbery and evergreens trampled by horses, and cut to pieces by the Cruel hand
of men. Hay, fodder, corncobs, and shucks Scattered over the yard, doorsteps,
porches and even the hall and rooms of our home. Not one chicken was left to
crow, not a calf or lamb to bleat, nor a pig to squeal but as old General
Tecumseh Sherman was not along to remind them of the torch they left us the
house.
We set the Negroes to work and all hands joined in Cleaning up the rubbish, made
new fences and gates, bought more livestock with other necessaries to make
another big crop, and with pure southern grit managed to breathe , live , and
feed and entertain many southern soldiers from that time till the surrender. The
two empty smokehouses to the contrary, nevertheless.
It was a strange accident, but true, that the Yankees tore down and burned the
fence up to the corner where father had hidden his watch. It was some distance
off but in sight of home. If he had thought of it at all, he certainly never
expected to see his time piece again, but some time after they left he was going
over the plantation and noticed the fence being left. He raised the rails. and
there lay the watch as he had left it sound and bright.
It is funny to think of how they walked over and around the things they most
loved to take.
Events of a sorrowful character occurred during that awful raid. Houses were
burned and hearts were broken. It was a shock of heart felt sorrow when we heard
that Billie Hannah was killed.
General Forrest, being near this section, a company of his men, Capt. James
Null, Billie Hannah, Billie and Willis Waddell, Lieutenant Frank Hawkins and
other neighbor boys gladly grasped the good opportunity to spend Christmas at
home.
They had a little hiding place in the swamp near Capt. Null's home where no
strange armed enemy could find or penetrate. It would be poorly worth my while
to try to tell of the bravery and fighting qualities of Forrest's boys.
It is written in History and song. By the time the Yankees struck camp, they
begun to go out over the country to rob and destroy. Squads went to the home of
Mr. Johnson Everett and commenced their work word of which was conveyed to our
boys in the swamps. Whoever on the watch for ranger or laurels came out and
undertook the arrest of the prowlers. When one of them showed fight, young
Waddell shot and killed him. The ball passing through him and wounding Billie
Hannah. His comrades carried him off back to the swamp and came for his sisters,
brave Rebel girls, who in company with the young sisters of Capt. Null left
their home at night to grope their way in secret to the cold dark hiding place
of a dying brother and sat by him till the pressure of his cold hand relaxed and
his eyes closed on the scene of war forever.
They saw his body hastily and secretly buried in a temporary grave and returned
to see their home burned by the enemy.
A cloud of gloom fell over his comrades who a few days before were light-hearted
and happy in being where they could come to firesides of homes and friends to
enjoy the home-made luxuries and then at sight or sound of the enemy would
spring to their horses and dash back to the little knoll or island in the swamp.
Only a day or two before the Yankee raid, Billie Hannah called at our house to
visit sister Mary and Miss Connie Bowden.
I shall never forget when he started to leave how brave and handsome he looked.
Laughing and talking back at the girls, he sprang to his fiery war horse and
dashed off as he waved us a goodbye with a merry jest. Instantly we all recalled
the picture and spoke of it when the sad news came that brave, Kind-hearted,
handsome, Billie Hannah was dead.
The killing of one of their men so enraged the Yankees they set fire to Mr.
Everett's house and burned it down. The officers galloped about, swore vengeance
and sent detachments of well equipped and mounted men away out over the country
to search for and capture the Rebel boys in which, as a matter of course. they
did not succeed.
They brought the remains of their dead soldier back and buried them near the
camps on Col. Sneads place.
The Negroes gave us a graphic and weird description of how they brought the body
and the way it, was buried. They said when he was lifted from the wagon, he had
a ladies white shirt spread over him for a winding sheet, and a white rag
stuffed in his mouth. We girls and children thought we had never heard of
anything so ghastly.
The Negroes narrated many doleful things concerning the burial but nothing
seemed so frightful to us as the picture of the dead man with a rag in his
mouth. When night came, we imagined we could see it in the dark and every time
we shut our eyes to go to sleep, it would rise before us like Banquo's ghost. We
were afraid to go alone through a dark room.
We felt so certain of seeing it. For a long time afterward when the girls wanted
to scare each other in going through a dark hall or room one would start in a
run and say "yonder comes the dead Yankee with a rag in his mouth", then the
running, screaming and stumbling pell-mell over tables and chairs, knocking down
and running over each other!
I sometimes wonder at our escapes with life when I think over those days. Yet I
believe we would be envied by the girls of today could they look back on us,
even in those awful days of trials and humiliation when tomorrow it might be a
question of what shall we eat, what shall have wear, and where shall we be she
sheltered.
I would never get through telling the depravations that were committed during
the Yankee raids.
It was a cowardly and shameful act when a squad of blue coated stragglers went
to the house of an aged neighbor and kinsman of ours, Mr. Israel Snead, who had
lain for years perfectly helpless with palsy and had been handled and nursed as
tenderly as an infant by his wife, son and faithful servants. On entering his
house, the vandals demanded money. None being given them, they became enraged
and despite the entreaties of his wife, the seized the helpless old gentleman
and dragged him by brute force from his bed. While they turned up the bed
clothing and searched in every nook and corner and kept on searching till they
found money in a bureau drawer.
Imagine the feelings of that good and highly respected old southern gentleman
who possessed all his pride and yet unable to move or speak in defense while he
was being dragged and thrown about by the brutish hands of the enemy.
I will mention another incident that shows in a striking manner the brutish
greed for money that filled their hearts. When they went to Dr. J.W. Covington's
home, his young wife Nellie, seeing them enter the house, took off her rings and
other trinkets and placed them in the hand of a faithful servant. Then she
thought of a piece of gold money her father, Mr. Robert Gilbert, had given her
for a keepsake.
She went hastily to her trunk and took it out but had not had time or a chance
to give to the woman so she slipped it into her mouth. One of the lynx-eyed blue
coats saw the act and instantly and rudely grabbed at her chin and commanded her
to drop the money. He shook and commanded and shook till she was forced to let
the money fall into his rusty paw. They also took a beautiful little old time
diamond set pin from Dr. Covington which was valued on account of its history.
If I had time and space I could mention other mean, cowardly and despicable acts
committed by those who wore the uniform of blue.
About the middle or in the last two years of the war, the citizens and farmers
were harassed by Bushwhackers and Guerrillas, and we lived in dreadful awe of
the robbers who would not hesitate to murder where their attempts at robbery
were resisted.
The Guerrillas were southern soldiers who acted as Home Guards most of them nice
men but others roamed the country in companies, made of all kinds and classes,
commanded by more experienced men of war. I have seen the lowest individuals of
the country in command and wearing the uniform of Captain who could scarcely
write their own names.
The Bushwhackers were Union and homemade Yankee soldiers who committed ravages
in the country and bushwhacked our Guerillas. The robbers consisted of any and
everybody who wanted to rob. Some of them good boys and soldiers perhaps at the
commencement of the war but by hardships and thievish associates, they were led
step by step till circumstances or the false fascinations of a robbers life drew
them on to join the band. What dreadful night we passed when there was no true
soldiers in the country to protect us!
We looked for the robbers to come every night when hearing of their awful crimes
in the neighborhood and all over West Tennessee. They abused the citizens in the
most horrible manner. Twisting their heads with a rope, torturing them with
fire, hanging, choking and dragging them behind the horses, and every other
fiendish device that could be thought of to exhort from them their money and
other valuables. It seemed that our citizens were in greater danger at home than
if they had been in the army. The uneasiness we suffered was awful. Thinking
every evening out time would come that night.