CHAPTER XIX.
I am Detailed to Drive a Six-Mule Team--I am Covered with Red Mud--I am Sent on an Expedition of Cold-Blooded Murder-- I Make a Dozen ex-Confederate Soldiers Happy by Setting Them Up in Business.
After the battle alluded to in my last chapter, it took us a week ormore to get brushed up, the dead buried, and everything ready to go toliving again. A battle to a regiment in the field is a good deal likea funeral in a family at home. When a member of a family is sick untodeath, all looks dark, and when the sick person dies it seems as thoughthe world could never look bright again. Every time the relatives andfriends look at any article belonging to a deceased friend, the agonycomes back, and it is quite a while before there is any brightnessanywhere, but in time the tear-stained faces become smiling, the lostfriend is thought of only occasionally, and the world moves along justthe same. So in the army. For a few days the thought of comrades beinggone forever, was painful, and no man wanted to ride the horse whoseowner had been killed, but within a week the feeling was all gone, andif a horse was a good one he didn't stay in the corral very long onaccount of some good fellow having been shot off his back. The boyswho couldn't remember what was trumps on the day of the battle---(anda soldier has got to be greatly interested in something else to forgetwhat is trumps) returned to their card-playing, and no one would know,to look at them, that they had passed through a pretty serious scare,and seen their comrades fall all around. We told stories of ourexperience in the army and at home, and entertained each other. Icouldn't tell much, except what a good shot I was with a shotgun andrifle, and I told some marvelous stories about hitting the bull's eye.It got to be tiresome waiting around for my commission to arrive, and Idid not quite enjoy being a commissioned high private. Everybody knewI had been recommended for a commsssion, and they all called me"Lieutenant," but all the same I was doing duty as a private. For twoor three clays I was detailed to drive mules for the quartermaster, andthat was the worst service I ever did perform. It seemed as thoughthe colonel wanted to prepare me for any service that in the nature ofthings I was liable to be called upon to perform. I kicked some at beingdetailed to drive a six-mule team, but the colonel said I might see thetime when I could save the government a million dol-lars by being ableto jump on to a wheel mule and drive a wagon loaded with ammunition,or paymaster's cash, out of danger of being captured by the enemy. So Iwent to work and learned to gee-haw a six-mule team of the stubbornestmules in the world, hauling bacon, but there was no romance in takingcare of six mules that would kick so you had to put the harness on themwith a pitchfork, for fear of having your head kicked off. If I everget a pension it will be for my loss of character and temper in drivingthose mules. I have been in some dangerous places, but I was never inso dangerous a place, in battle, as I was one day while driving thosemules. One of the lead mules got his forward foot over the bridle someway, and I went to fix it, and the team started and "straddled" me. Assoon as I saw that I was between the two lead mules, and that the teamhad started, I knew my only-safety was in laying down and taking thechances of the three pairs of mules and wagon going straight over me.To attempt to get out would mix them all up, so I fell right down inthe mud, which was about a foot deep, and just like soft mortar. As themules passed on each side of me, every last one of them kicked at me,and I was under the impression that each wheel of the wagon kicked atme, but I escaped everything except the mud, and when I got up on myfeet behind the wagon, the quartermaster, who was ahead on horseback,had stopped the team. He called a colored man to drive, and told me Icould go back to the regiment. I tried to sneak in the back way, and notsee anybody, but when I passed the chaplain's tent a lot of officers,who had been sampling his sanitary stores, come out, and one of themrecognized me, and they insisted on my stopping and talking somethingwith them. Honestly, there was not an inch of my clothing but wascovered with, red mud, that every soldier remembers who has been throughAlabama. They had fun with me for half an hour and then let me go. Ihave never been able to look at a mule since, without a desire to killit.
I had said so much about my marksmanship with a rifle, that one day Iwas sent for by the colonel. He said he had heard I was a crack shotwith the rifle, and I admitted that I was a pretty good shot. He askedme if I could hit a man's eye every time at ten paces. I told him I wasalmost sure I could. He said he had a duty that must be performed bysome man that was an excellent shot, and I might report at once withforty rounds of ammunition. I don't know when I had been any morestartled than I was at the colonel's questions, and his manner. Could itbe that he had some secret expedition of murder that he wanted to sendme on. I had never deliberately aimed at a man's eye, and if therewas anybody to be killed I would be no hand to do it in cold blood. Itseemed as though I had rather give anything than to kill a man, but thatwas evidently the business the colonel had in his mind. Was it a lot ofprisoners that were to be killed in retaliation for some of our men whohad been treated badly by the enemy. I reported shortly, with my carbineand forty cartridges, and the colonel told me to go to a certain placeon the bank of the river, a mile away, and report to the chaplain, whowould be there to see that everything was done properly. Then when Istarted off I heard the colonel say to the adjutant that there wereabout forty to be killed, and while it seemed cruel, it had to be done,and he hoped they would suffer as little as possible. If I could havehad my way, I wouldn't have gone a step. I reflected on the pained lookon the colonel's face, and wondered why I was picked out for all thesesad events, but I thought if the chaplain was there everything wouldbe all right. Arriving at the placed I found the chaplain sitting on astump, on a big bluff overlooking the river. He sighed as I came up andsaid:
"Death is always a sad thing."
I told him that no one appreciated it more than I did, and I sighedalso.
"But," said he, as he took a chew of navy plug tobacco, "when deathis necessary, we should make it as painless as possible, I have beenstudying this matter over a good deal, and trying to figure out howto make the death the least painful to these poor victims, and it hasoccurred to me that if we place them on the edge of the precipice, andyou shoot them through the brain, while at the same time I push them,they will fall down a hundred feet into the river, and if they are notkilled instantly by having the brain blown out, they will certainlydrown. How does that strike you?"
I thought the chaplain was about the most heartless cuss I ever heardtalk about killing people, but I said that seemed to me to be the bestway, but a cold chill went over me as I thought of shooting anybodythrough the head and the chaplain pushing him down the cliff into thewater. I was just going to ask him what the men had done, when he said:
"Ah, there they come."
I looked, and a lot of colored men were leading about forty oldback-number horses and mules, afflicted with glanders and otherdiseases.
"Are the niggers to be killed?" I asked.
"Naw," said the chaplain. "The horses and mules."
I was never so relieved in all my life as I was when I found that myexcellent marksmanship was to be expended on animals instead of humanbeings. But I did feel hurt, the idea of a brevet officer, a manqualified to do deeds of daring, being detailed one day to drive mulesand the next-to shoot sick horses. But I decided to do whatever I hadto do, well, and so preparations were made for the executions. Theglandered horses were brought out first, and then the ones with sorebacks. Many of them were first-rate horses, their only fault being soresmade from the saddles, and as it would take months to cure them up, andas the army was going to move soon, it had been decided to kill themrather than leave them to fall into the enemy's hands, or take themalong to be cured on the march. I shot about a dozen glandered horses,that being the largest game I had ever killed, and the bodies fell downinto the river. Then there was a mule that was ugly, and it occurred tome I would have some fun with the chaplain.
We were outside the lines, and quite a number of men had gathered fromthe plantations, on hearing the firing, to see what
was up. I suggestedto the chaplain that it was a shame to kill so many good horses, whenthey might be of use to some of the planters, but he said they were allrebels, and it was not the policy of the government to set them up inbusiness, by giving them horses to use tilling crops. I argued that themen had come home from the confederate army--this was in 1864--eitherdischarged for wounds or disability, or paroled prisoners, and they wereanxious to go to work, but that they hadn't a dollar, and our army hadskinned every horse and mule on their places, and the niggers had gone,so that a horse would be a God-send to them. But the chaplain wouldn'thear to it. The men, who had collected, were mostly too proud to ask fora horse from a Yankee, but I could see that they did not like to see theanimals killed. I thought if I could get the chaplain, who had beensent out to the execution as a sort of humane society, to see that theanimals were killed easy, to go back to camp and leave me alone with thehorses, I could kill them or not, as I chose. They brought out the uglymule next, and my idea was to shoot the mule through the tip of the ear,while the chaplain stood near with a rail to push it over the bank, andmaybe the mule would flax around and kick the chaplain up a tree, orscare him so he would leave. I took deliberate aim at the mule's ear,told the chaplain to push hard with the rail so the corpse would be sureto go over the cliff, and fired. Well, I have never seen such a scene inall my life. The mule seemed to squat down, when the bullet hit the topof his ear, then he brayed so loud that it would raise your hat rightoff your head, then he jumped into the air and whirled around and kickedin every direction with all four feet at once, fell down and rolled overtowards the chaplain, and got up, and seeming to think the chaplainwas the author of the misery, started for him, and that good man dodgedbehind trees until he got a chance to climb up one, which he did, andsat on a limb and shook his fist at the mule and me. He used quitestrong language at me for not killing the animal dead. Finally theniggers caught the mule and the chaplain dismounted from the limb, andcame to me. I told him my carbine was out of order, and I should have totake it apart and fix it, and that there was no knowing whether it wouldshoot where I aimed it or not, after it was fixed, and I might havetrouble with the rest of the horses. It would take an hour at least tofix the gun. He said he guessed he would go back to camp, and leave meto finish up the slaughter, and that was what I wanted. The colored menwere anxious to go back too, so I let them tie the horses to trees, andall go back except one, whom I knew. After they had all gone I went upto the dozen southern men who had been watching the proceedings, andasked one who was called colonel by the rest, if he didn't think it waswrong to kill the horses when by a little care they could be of muchuse in tilling crops. "Well, sah," said he with dignity. "If it is notdisloyalty, sah, for a southern gentleman to criticize anything thata yankee does, I should say, sah, that it was a d----d shame, sah, tosteal our horses, and after using them up, sah, kill them in cold blood,sah. Each one of those animals sah, would be a gold mine, sah, at thistime, to us who have come from the wah, sah, destitute, with nothing butour bare hands to make a crop, to keep our families from want, sah."
The other gentlemen nodded at what the colonel had said, as thoughthat was about their sentiments. I told him that I felt about that waymyself, but there was an objection. If I gave the horses away, for useon the plantations, and the animals should be used hereafter in theconfederate army, it would not only be wrong, but I would be liable tobe dismissed from the army.
The colonel said he should want to be dismissed from the Yankee army ifhe was in it, but I might feel different about it. But he said he wouldpledge me his word as a Southern gentleman, that if the animals could belent to them, they should never be used for war purposes. He said he waspoor, and his friends there were poor, but they would not take a horseas a gift from a stranger, but if I would lend them the horses for ayear, they would use them, and return them to the proper officer a yearhence, if the army was yet in existence, or they would take them inexchange for horses that had previously been stolen from them by ourarmy. He said there was not a gentleman present but had lost from two toa dozen horses since the army had been in their vicinity. I admired thedignity and honesty of the old gentleman, and I knew mighty well that wehad picked up every horse we could find, and I said:
"Colonel, here are about thirty horses I have been ordered to kill. IfI do not kill them I take a certain responsibility. I feel underobligations to many Southern people for courtesies, and I feel that thenursing I received during a recent sickness, from one of your Southernladies, about the same as saved my life. I believe the war is very nearover, and that neither you nor our men will have occasion for much moreactive service. You have come home to your desolate plantations, andfound everything gone. This is the fate of war, but it is unpleasant allthe same. If you can use these animals for your work, in raising crops,you may take them in welcome, and if there is any cussing, I will standit. My advice would be to take them to some isolated place on yourplantation, and keep them out of sight for a time. Our army will movewithin a week, and perhaps never come back here. The animals arebranded 'U. S.' which will always remain. If the horses are found in yourpossession, later, you may have to say that they were given to you byan agent of the quartermaster. If they are taken from you, grin and bearit. If you are permitted to keep them, and they do you any good, I shallbe very glad. If I get hauled over the coals for giving aid and comfortto the enemy, I will lie out of it some way, or stand my punishment likea little man. The horses are yours, as far as I am concerned."
"Well, sah, you are a perfect gentleman, sah," said the colonel, as hetook my hand and shook it cordially. "And I should be proud to entertainyou at my place, sah. We have got little left, sah, but you are welcometo our home at any time. I am an old man, with a bullet in my leg.Two of my boys are dead, in Virginia, sah, and I have one boy who is aprisoner at the north. If he comes home alive, we will be able to makea living and have a home again. The war has been a terrible blow tous all, sah. I reckon both sides, sah, have got about enough, andboth sides have made cussed, fools of themselves. When this affair issettled, sah, the north and south will be better friends than ever, sah.I wish you a long life, sah."
The other gentlemen expressed thanks, and they picked out two or threehorses apiece and led them away, it seemed to me as happy a lot ofgentlemen as I ever saw. I called the colored man, and we startedfor camp. For a five dollar bill, and a promise to always take a deepinterest in the colored man's welfare, I got his promise that he wouldnever tell anybody about my giving the horses away, and for nearly ayear he kept his promise. I went back to headquarters and reported thatthe animals had been disposed of, and that evening I was invited to setinto a poker game with some of the officers, and when we got up Ihad won over a hundred dollars. I looked upon the streak of luck as apremium for my kindness to the gentlemen who took the horses, but someof the officers seemed to have a suspicion that I concealed cards up mysleeve. It is thus that the best of us are misunderstood.
How Private George W. Peck Put Down the Rebellion Page 19
