Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867, page 143

            While the body of Zollicoffer lay upon the ground in front of a Minnesota tent, surrounded by soldiers, an excited officer rode up, exclaiming to the men : “What in h__1 are you doing here? Why are you not at the stretchers, bringing in the wounded?” “This is Zollicoffer,” said a soldier. “I know that,” replied the officer; “he is dead, and could not have been sent to h__l by a better man, for Col. Fry shot him ; leave him, and go to your work.”

            When the two Parrott guns were planted on the hill at Brown’s house, overlooking the enemy’s camp, the peculiar whir-r-r of the shells was new to our astonished darky, who, with hat off and eyes protruding, exclaimed to his sable companion : “Gosh, mighty, Sam, don’t dat go howl-in’ trou de wilderness?”

            In nearly a direct line with the course we had marched from the battle-field to the rebel works, is a bold elevation about three fourths of a mile this side of said works, on which one of our batteries was immediately planted, and commenced throwing shot and shell into their camp. Several regiments had lain down upon the ground to rest from the fatigue of their march; and as the rebels answered but feebly with two guns, their shot passed over the heads of our men. As the intervals grew longer and longer, watching the shot became a matter of amusement with them. — “Secesh ball! Secesh ball! ” they would cry out, while half a dozen would start and run after it, others calling out: “Run harder, or you won’t overtake it.” While this amusement was going on, a rabbit sprang out of a bush between the lines, when the cry, “Secesh ball! Secesh ball!” arose, and the boys took after it with better success, for they caught it.

            Upon the high ground last referred to, the rebels made a brief stand half an hour before we reached it, but were driven off by a few shots from Stannard’s battery. One of these six-pound shots struck a poplar tree, about two feet in diameter, directly in the centre, and some twenty feet from the General, passing entirely through the tree, tearing off splinters eight or ten feet long, and passing on “trou de wilderness.” Another shot struck a tree seven or eight inches in diameter, directly beside the other, but lower down, cutting it off nearly as square as though it had been done with a saw.

            Being among the first who entered the rebel fortifications, I discovered a barrel, which proved to contain apple-brandy. Pulling out the corncob from the bung-hole, I turned it up and filled a canteen. While doing this, one of Bob Mc-Cook’s skirmishers came in, and says: “Vat you gets there?” I replied that it appeared to be pretty fair apple-brandy; upon which the Dutchman ran to the door, calling out, furiously: “Hans! Heinrich! schnapps! See! come arous!” Upon which a dozen Dutchmen came in, and the brandy which was not spilled upon the ground was soon transferred to their canteens. I said: “Boys, you had better look out; this is a doctor’s shop, and there may be strychnine in that brandy.” They paused a moment to look at each other, when one of them exclaimed, “Py Got, Hans, I tells you vat I do; I trinks some, and if it don’t kill me, den you trinks;” upon which he took a long and hearty pull at his canteen, and smacking his lips a moment, said, “All right, Hans! go ahead!“

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867, page 143

In Memory of Gen. Philip Kearny.
by George H. Boxer.

CLOSE his eyes; his work is done!
            What to him is friend or foeman,
Rise of moon, or set of sun,
            Hand of man, or kiss of woman?
                        Lay him low, lay him low,
                        In the clover or the snow!
                        What cares he? he cannot know :
                                    Lay him low!

As man may, he fought his fight,
            Proved his truth by his endeavor;
Let him sleep in solemn night,
            Sleep forever and forever.
                        Lay him low, lay him low,
                        In the clover or the snow!
                        What cares he? he cannot know :
                                    Lay him low!

Fold him in his country’s stars,
            Roll the drum and fire the volley!
What to him are all our wars,
            What but death bemocking folly?
                        Lay him low, lay him low,
                        In the clover or the snow!
                        What cares he? he cannot know :
                                    Lay him low!

Leave him to God’s watching eye,
            Trust him to the hand that made him.
Mortal love weeps idly by:
            God alone has power to aid him.
                        Lay him low, lay him low,
                        In the clover or the snow!
                        What cares he? he cannot know :
                                    Lay him low!

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            It is a singular and remarkable circumstance that loyal sentiment in the South is found inseparably connected with a broken and mountainous surface.

            The low and fertile bottoms were everywhere committed to slavery, and hence to disunion. Nowhere was this more aptly illustrated than in Tennessee.

            East Tennessee was loyal by an overwhelming majority. There was a strong Union sentiment in Northern Georgia and Northern Alabama. So also in Western Tennessee, as there is a line of high and sharp hills just west of the Tennessee River, there may be found a decided attachment to the old flag.

            Wherever in such communities there is genuine loyalty, its displays have been magnanimous and decided; and the traditions of those communities abound in incidents of fidelity and devotion, under circumstances where such displays were by no means sentimental or free from danger.

            The following incident will show the devotion and loyalty of two plain women living in an obscure county of Tennessee:

            The Twenty-seventh Iowa regiment had taken cars at Corinth, and were travelling in the direction of Jackson. It was the summer of 1862, when Jackson contained the headquarters of Gen. Grant. The train started, and was proceeding at a high rate of speed, every square foot where a man could sit or stand being covered with a soldier.

            Just before reaching a railroad bridge the engineer saw a couple of lanterns being waved in the distance directly on the track. He stopped the locomotive, and sent men ahead to ascertain the cause of the alarm. They found the lanterns held by two women, who explained how a crew of guerrillas in that vicinity had been informed, that a train thus loaded with Union soldiers was expected, and had fired the bridge at eight o’clock that evening, and allowed the main timbers to burn so that the bridge would break under the weight of the train, and then put out the fire. These noble women had heard of the act, and walked ten miles through the mud at midnight, carrying their lanterns, and taking their station on the track, where they had patiently waited for hours, with the determination of thwarting the dastardly plan of the villains. The officers of’ the regiment, thus saved from a terrible accident through the heroism of these women, begged of them to accept some present as a proof of their gratitude ; but they would have nothing, saying they did it for their country, and wanted no pay. A party of soldiers was detailed to escort them to their homes. How far is such conduct above all human praise or the rewards that man can bestow!

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            John Bray, of the First New Jersey cavalry, thus describe§ his escape from Richmond captivity:

            “On Sunday morning I made my final attempt to escape. Arranging necessary preliminaries with a comrade, I passed down stairs with the detail sent for provisions, wearing my blanket, and keeping as much as possible under cover of those whom I was about to leave. Reaching the yard, which was filled with rebel soldiers, I suddenly, upon a favorable opportunity, slipped the blanket from my shoulders to those of my chum, and stepping quickly into the throng, stood, to all appearance, a rebel, having precisely their uniform, and looking as dirty and ragged as the worst among them. But I was not yet free. The point now was to get out of the yard. To do this it was necessary to pass the sentinels at the gates, all of which were thus guarded. My wits, however, difficult as I knew my enterprise to be, did not desert me. With an air of unconcern, whistling the “Bonnie Blue Flag,” I sauntered towards the nearest gate, paused a moment as I neared it to laugh with the rest at some joke of one of the guard; then, abstractedly, and with deliberate pace, as if passing in and out had been such a customary affair with me as to make any formal recognition of the sentinels unnecessary, I passed out. That my heart throbbed painfully under my waistcoat, and that I expected every moment to hear the dread summons, “Halt!” you need not be told. An age of feeling was crowded into that moment. But I passed out unchallenged. Whether it was that my nonchalant air put the sentinels off their guard, or that they were for the moment absorbed in the joke at which all the soldiers were laughing, I cannot tell; nor does it matter. I was free; the whole world was before me; and my whole being was aglow with that thought. I had still dangers, it was true, to encounter, but the worst was past, and I felt equal to any that might lie before.”

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            The following occurred while arrangements for an exchange of prisoners were being completed. near the Union lines at Decatur, Ala.: Sergeant Miller of the Ninth Illinois infantry, who had been taken prisoner during the fight at Moulton, and who had been exchanged one week before, was along with the squad of national troops who had gone out to effect the exchange. When taken prisoner, a rebel soldier demanded of him his pocket-book and “greenbacks.” He had, of course, to surrender it. Before he was exchanged, he had made the remark in the presence of several rebels, that he would shoot the man who took his pocket-book the first time he could get his eyes upon him. When we met that soldier was there. He immediately recognized Sergeant Miller, took him aside, and gave him his pocket-book and money, with the exception of five dollars, which he had loaned to some one. This he promised to get and send in to him the first chance.

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            An army correspondent on the Rappahannock related the following:

            An amusing incident occurred in camp a night or two since. A portly young contraband, from Charleston, S. C., who escaped from his rebel master at Antietam, and was for a while quartered subsequently in Washington, was engaged by one of our junior staff officers as his body servant, and brought down here to his quarters to attend him. It chanced that the officer had served his country gallantly at Sharpsburg, where he lost a leg, below the knee, the absence of which had been made up by an artificial limb, which the Captain wore with so easy a grace that few persons who met him suspected his misfortune —his sable attendant being among the blissfully ignorant as to the existence of the fact.

            The Captain had been “out to dine,” and returned in excellent spirits to his tent. Upon retiring, he called his darky servant to assist him in pulling off his riding boots.

            “Now, Jimmy, look sharp,” said the Captain. “I’m a little — ic — flimsy, Jimmy, t’night. Look sharp, an’— is — pull steady.”

            “Ise alleys keerful, Cap’n,” says Jimmy, drawing off one long, wet boot, with considerable difficulty, and standing it aside.

            “Now, mind your eye, Jim! The other — ic — a little tight;” and black Jimmy chuckled and showed his shining ivories, as he reflected, perhaps, that his master was quite as “tight” as he deemed his boot to be.

            “Easy, now — that’s it. Pull away!” continued the Captain, good-naturedly, and enjoying the prospective joke, while he loosened the straps about his waist which held his cork leg up —”now you’ve got it! Yip — there you are! O Lord! O Lord! O Lord!” screamed the Captain, as contraband, cork leg, riding boot, and ligatures tumbled across the tent in a heap, and the one-legged officer fell back on his pallet, convulsed with spasmodic laughter. At this moment the door opened and a Lieutenant entered.

            “G’way fum me, g’way fum me — lemmy be! lemmy be! I ain’t done nuffin,” yelled the contraband, lustily, and rushing to the door, really supposing he had pulled his master’s leg clean off. “Lemmy go! I didn’t do nuffin — g’way! g’way!” And Jimmy put for the woods in his desperation, since which he hasn’t been seen or heard from, though his Captain has diligently sought for him far and near.

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            There is a description of invaluable service, says Benj. F. Taylor in his entertaining letters, requiring the coolest courage, and the clearest head and the quickest wit of any soldierly duty, but which, from its nature, seldom appears in print. I refer, of course, to the achievements of the scout. He passes the enemy’s lines, sits at his camp fire, penetrates even into the presence of the commanding General; he seems a Tennesseean, a Georgian, an Irishman, a German — anything indeed but what he really is; if he falls, no friendly heart can ever know where; his grave is nameless. I might name a soldier from Illinois who has thus gained information of the greatest moment, and whose dangers and daring would make a chapter of romance.

            Women not invariably any “better than they should be” have always been employed to persuade information out of unsuspecting, but not unsuspected persons, and they bring a degree of tact and shrewdness into play that hirsute humanity can never hope to equal. Many a wasp has been caught with their honey of hypocrisy. Take an illustration: A subordinate Federal officer in a certain city within this department had been long suspected of disloyalty, but no proof to warrant his arrest could be obtained, and so, as a dernier resort, a woman was set at him. She smiled her way into his confidence, and became his “next best friend;” but finding that ears were of no use, — for he could not be induced to say one word of matters pertaining to his office, — she changed her plan of attack, and turned a couple of curious, and, as I am told, beautiful eyes upon him. Not unfrequently he would ride out of town into the country, be absent three or four hours, and return. For all the hours of the twenty-four, but just these, she could account. Within them, then, lay the mischief, if mischief there was; and she began to watch if he made any preparations for these excursions. None. He loaded his old-fashioned pistol, drew on his gloves, lighted a cigar, bade her a loving good by — “only that, and nothing more.” Was he deep and she dull? Time would show. At last, she observed that he put an unusual charge into the pistol, one day, and all at once she grew curious in pistols. Would he show her some day how to charge a pistol, how to fire a pistol, how to be a dead shot? And just at that minute she was athirst, and would he bring her a lemonade? She was left toying with the weapon, and he went for the drink as requested. The instant the door closed behind him, she drew the charge, for she knew as much of pistols as he, and substituted another. She was not a minute too soon, for back he came, took the pistol, and rode away. No sooner had he gone than she set about an examination of the charge, and it proved to be plans and details of Federal forces and movements, snugly rolled together. The mischief was in the pistol, then, though none but a woman would have thought of it; and so it was that he carried information to his rebel friends with rural proclivities. The woman’s purpose was gained, and when the officer returned, his “next best friend” had vanished like an Arab or a vision, and he had hardly time to turn about before he was under arrest. Admiring the adroitness of the achievement, we cannot help regretting that a woman performed it. The memory of a man’s mother is sacred, and he feels that whoever wears her form unworthily, and debases woman’s graceful gifts, profanes it.

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            A Correspondent with the army of the Cumberland tells the following: —

            On the morning of our arrival at Strawberry Plains, a Captain on Gen. Sheridan’s staff descried a man dressed in a semi-military garb, common to sutlers and other army followers, riding leisurely along in a dilapidated carriage, drawn by a span of mules. The most remarkable feature about the individual in the carriage, was a Bardolphian proboscis of magnificent proportions and gorgeous colors, at once suggestive of luscious tods and invigorating cordials. The Captain, fatigued and thirsty, taking his cue from the other’s illuminated frontispiece, rode close beside him, and asked, in a confidential tone, if he couldn’t give him a “suck.” “No, sir,” was the reply; “I am not a wet nurse.” “O, but I mean a drink of whiskey; the fact is, I’m devilish dry.” “No, sir, I cannot; I never use intoxicating beverages of any description; therefore, have none.” “But,” persisted the Captain, “have you no friends or acquaintances that you could recommend me to. I’m hankering mightily after a nip.” “No, sir; I do not frequent the society of intemperate men.” “Well,” said the Captain, looking hard at him of the fiery visage and rum-blossomed nose, “perhaps we have both mistaken your calling; are you not a sutler?” “Sutler? no, sir,” returned the now exasperated occupant of the carriage. “I am a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ; the chaplain of the _______ Ohio cavalry, and a _______.” The Captain stopped not to hear more, but putting spurs to his horse, left in a twinkling.

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            “One of our fair countrywomen,” says a correspondent, “the daughter of a rich and independent farmer of Rockingham, was married, the other day, to a gentleman who may congratulate himself upon having secured a prize worth having. She was what we should call ‘an independent girl,’ sure enough. Her bridal outfit was all made with her own hands, from her beautiful straw hat down to the handsome gaiters upon her feet! Her own delicate hands spun and wove the material of which her wedding dress and travelling cloak were made; so that she had nothing upon her person, when she was married, which was not made by herself! Nor was she compelled by necessity or poverty to make this exhibition of her independence. She did it for the purpose of showing to the world how independent Southern girls are. If this noble girl were not wedded, we should be tempted to publish her name in this connection, so that our bachelor readers might see who of our girls are most to be desired. If she were yet single, and we were to publish her name, her pa’s house would be at once thronged with gallant gentlemen seeking the hand of a woman of such priceless value.” — Richmond Sentinel.

Anecdotes, Poetry and Incidents of the War: North and South. 1860-1865.
Collected and Arranged by Frank Moore, published 1867

            Before the rebellion, there resided in Carter County, Tennessee, two families named Hetherley and Tipton, who were on the most intimate and friendly terms. When the troubles came upon the country, the male members of the Hetherley family organized a Federal company for home protection, while the Tipton boys espoused the rebel cause, and joined the Confederate army in Virginia. After an absence of a year, the elder Tipton returned to his native county with a Lieutenant’s commission, and a squad, of soldiers, and immediately set to work to clear the neighborhood of all the Unionists. Tipton was brutal and unscrupulous in the course he pursued towards his former friends. Learning that one of the Hetherleys was lurking in the vicinity, and failing, after a thorough search, to discover his whereabouts, he took Hetherley’s widowed mother from her house in the night, carried her to an adjoining wood, and putting a rope around her neck, threatened that if she did not instantly reveal her son’s hiding-place, he would hang her. This she refused to do, and Tipton, as good as his word, had her suspended to a tree until life was nearly extinct. When she came to, he assured her that unless she told where her son was concealed, he would surely kill her. But the old lady was not to be intimidated, and again and again was she strung up, when Tipton, convinced that he could not wring her secret from her, left her lying on the ground more dead than alive. Hetherley heard of the outrage perpetrated upon his mother, and sent word to Tipton to look out, for the avenger was on his track. That very night, as Tipton was making preparations to leave the country, he was surprised at his father’s house by Hetherley’s company, and taken to the mountains. Here he was compelled to pay the penalty of death for his cruelties. Hetherley, maddened at the cruelties inflicted upon his helpless old mother, had him stripped and bound, made him kneel upon a coffin and take the oath of allegiance to the Federal Government, and then compelled the negro servant to blow his brains out with a revolver.