"The Young Volunteers"

©John Hill Hewitt

I never knowed much 'bout no war till I actual git in this'n. Bunch o' stuff sound downright crooked to me, but I ain't gonna talk 'bout it right now. I tell it as it come in the story.

Even after I quit bein' in the war, I still didn't know much 'bout it, 'cept it was terrible awful. 'Nuther thing is lotta Rebels, Yankees too, wadn't lucky. Word was, after the war git over with, countin' both sides, over 600,000 git theyselfs kilt. I usta be tolerable good at 'rithmetic, but I can't 'magine no number big as that. I always was sorry for them boys, all of 'em, and still am. God know this the truth.

I done some serious thinkin' 'bout war and figure out somethin'. Betcha it ain't never been no war had a full, honest, and sensible reason for bein' had. Only wars start is when two countries git a crow to pick with one 'nuther and they git to fumin' to meet up and settle it out. One I was in oughta had some people speakin' out. I reckon everythin' was gittin' too hot and steamied up.

Us boys in the army was jus' as bad. We git livened up and begin yellin' stuff like, "Yeh, man. I wanna go fight. I wanna die for Dixie. I wanna kill for Dixie. Send me in. I wanna fight them Yankees, even if some of 'em is my own kin."

Hold on. Less put them same shoes on 'nuther foot. If they was some folks from some other land cross the ocean wantin' to sneak over to our country and flat take us over and rule us, Blest Pete, you gimme a gun and I'll fight my britches off till I fall dead. All us would. Thass different. But I can't in no way figure out the whys 'bout the one I was in.

Some smart people 'round where we live talk 'bout how come this war happen. They say it was 'cause a big man from Illinois git 'lected to be president of us. He was Abraham Lincoln and folks say right outta the clear blue sky, he sidin' with them up North and puttin' the blame on us folks down South 'cause of everythin' goin' bad. He stir up a lotta stuff and wadn't long before, yep, you know it, a war done up and broke out.

All wars got a name. That'n did. Most people up North call it the Civil War. People down South call it the War Between the States. Reckon that what it was. But some folks 'round home call it best—War of Northern Aggression. Thass why in 1861, right when it start, I begin thinkin' I better go help out and run them worrisome creatures home. But one thing I wadn't gonna do. I wadn't gonna shoot none o' them Yankees in the back while they runnin'. Some o' them boys might be my own kinfolk. But if one o' them yellow belly sapsuckers turn 'round and point their gun at me, they deader'n a door nail.

Way Abe was talkin', we was sure he didn't like nothin' south o' the Mason-Dixon. That stripe my rear end without usin' no stick. Hey, we was born down South and we didn't cotton to gittin' our fine country in a mess. I love my land; my family's land. It was a little farm layin' southeast o' Macon, Georgia at a little place called Dodgetown. It was the best cotton-growin' land you ever saw. Thass where my pa and two o' his brothers join up in 1842 and plant cotton and grow 'nuff potatoes, corn, beans, turnips, and collards to feed three counties around us and maybe a whole Yankee state to boot.

When the Yankees shot them guns at Fort Sumter, ever'body 'round Dodgetown git swelterin' mad. That was our fort and ain't nobody, specially no Yankee, oughta be shootin' our fort. I kep' stirrin' my mind up tryin' to figure out 'bout it. It was the first o' June I told Pa I was ready to git up to Macon to see would they let me sign up. I git kinda sad when I seen tears in his eyes and he nod his head.

Wadn't hard to see how Pa feel. He never talk much 'bout it and begin stayin' to hisself a lot. Then one day, he up and said the newspapers was tellin' boys if they wanna be sure they gonna have a gun, they better bring one with 'em or they might be throwin' rocks. Pa reach up on the wall and hand me his best gun, the one us kids cudn't never hold. He give me a whole raft o' bullets, too. I git sad like he was.

I knowed I shoulda been leavin' out right then, but I 'cided to help Pa and Lack git in the crops first. I final start out on the middle day o' August, 1861. I won't never forgit the tears in his eyes when he said, "God bless you, son. Manage that gun like I would and like your grandpa would too. I know if Ma was livin', she be terrible proud o' you." Then he taken my hand and give it a good shake and said, "Boy, ever'thing now 'pend on you. Do what you oughta be doin'. But, don't do nothin' God wudn't like." My head drooped down more'n it ever done in my life.

So I left Pa and them and head up toward that big town. I ain't never seen no town big as that in all my time. Macon, Georgia. Some folks say 'Lanta was bigger but I'd soon not go nowhere gonna swallow me up worser.

I roam around that town and final git to the buildin' where folks say you sposed to go to join up. A man in a gray suit said to git in this line o' boys so they kin look at each one o' us, one at a time, but we gotta take off all our clothes first. Bless Pete, I ain't never raise up total nekkid in the middle of a big room where a whole raft of boys was nekkid too. Worse part, it wadn't no way I could turn 'way so they wudn't see me nekkid. Praise God they wadn't no nurses there.

'Fore long I git up to where the man in a gray suit was and he ask me what was my name. When I said, "Homer," he told me not to fool with him or I be in real trouble. There was this other nekkid boy standin' right side o' me. He was Billy Watkins and I figure he knowed more'n me. Billy whisper down low to me that them boys wearin' gray suits is Rebel soldiers and I sposed to say my real first name and last name and not jus' no nickname. And he said always say "Suh" so I change my mind quick-like and yelled out, "Homer Lusta, Suh." Land o' Goshen, I didn't wanna git in no trouble. Good old Billy. He straight me out real fast.

The next mornin' some more soldiers in gray suits taken us out to a field where they put us to doin' things like runnin' fast, climbin' over rocks, ridin' horses, climbin' up plow lines, wrestlin' one nuther, and liftin' big logs. They seen I was strong and could shoot a gun real good. I knowed how, 'cause I growed up on our place where it was my job to go out in the woods and shoot squirrels every day for breakfast.

The soldiers give us somethin' called a gun test. That was lotta fun. They said load your gun, jump up and twist around a whole turn, hit the ground standin' up, and shoot a rifle at a Yankee army hat settin' on a pole thirty yard away. I shot Pa's gun three straight times and hit that hat square on the hatband ever' time. They say my shootin' was just right and I was ready to go fight, so they put me in the CSA, the Confederate States Army, without no more trainin'.

They set me and Billy, who could shoot good too, and three other boys, James, Elliot, and Lawrence, to walkin' to a town called Milledgeville. They say that the State Capitol. I ain't never been there neither. We was gonna git more trainin' up there and then git ourselves joined in with a big bunch o' Confederate soldiers called a company and git after them Yankees.

They made Billy head o' us. I figure it was 'cause he was the smartest. They give him some papers to prove he was Billy and who we was. We sposed to foller him and mind what he say. They point over to the northeast and said if we go straight that way for sixty miles, we gonna run smack into Milledgeville. They give us a sack o' grits and some bullet packs and said shoot rabbits and squirrels if we git hungry 'long the way.

I was proud to be where I was. I was proud to be a Rebel soldier. I knowed 1861 was gonna be a good year for our side. I was double ready to fight for my land and my people. I was wishin' Pa, Lotta, and Lack could see me right now. Next time I see 'em, I gonna tell 'em how I feel today.

"Bonnie Blue Flag"

©Harry Macarthy

It was gittin' cool weather when us boys was headin' up to Milledgeville. Us five new soldiers was gittin' more scared knowin' we was soon gonna leave and go fight real Yankees. I ain't never even seen no Yankee. None o' us ain't never went to war before. The graybacks give us some gray suits. They said it was Reb uniforms and we sposed to keep 'em, but don't wear 'em till we git up to the Reb base in Milledgeville. They said we liable to run slap in the middle o' some Yankees, and if we got them suits on, they might think we was Rebs and shoot us.

They give each one us a little bag look like a clothes bag. A soldier with three stripes on his arm call it a bindle. I ain't never hear o' no bindle before, but it look real nice. Kinda like a big handkerchief with the ends knot together to make a loop and you poke a stick through that loop. Then you sling it over your shoulder and walkin' is easy. Truth is, it look jus' like the little sack Ma usta give us when we walk over to spend the night at Grandma's.

The soldiers make us hide our gray suits in our bindle. They said we got to be real careful while we walkin' to Milledgeville, 'cause if we was to come up on some Yankees, we might be in a passle o' trouble. We ain't sposed to take them suits outta the bindle 'cause them Yankees might see 'em and think we doin' some kind o' Reb patrol and shoot us.

We git our stuff ready and left out 'bout noon. Most of us kep' talkin' 'bout how we was scared we gonna run smack in the middle o' some Yankees and git shot so we cudn't never go home no more. 'Bout that time I begin thinkin' I hadn't oughta joined up. Then I 'member how them Yankees was doin' us bad, so I figure I done right. I want Pa and Lotta and Lack to be proud o' me. And I knowed my ma is proud lookin' down from Heaven right now. I quit bein' scared; mostly.

We kep' walkin' toward Milledgeville, but we was slow goin'. The rain begin comin' down in sheets, like it wadn't never gonna rain no more. Gittin' toward dark, rain was still pourin' down hard. I was glad it was summer. Hadda been bad winter, rain like that wudda 'bout drown us and we wudn't never made it to Milledgeville.

We kep' walkin' cross this pasture, talkin' 'bout findin' someplace to git dry in and go to sleep, when we come to a fence and Blest Pete, a barn was nearby. It look like a cow barn with a fine roof and a bunch o' hay in it. It was dry inside it and we figure this where we kin rest and dry out. Maybe the next day, when we git up, the rain might be quit. Then we kin shoot us a squirrel or two, cook a pan o' grits, and git on up to Milledgeville and git after them Yankees.

We was lucky when, outta the blue, we hear a loud quacky noise. I set up and seen Billy Watkins, our leader, already standin' up, lookin' to see what was goin' on. Not more'n twenty yards 'way we seen a line of white ducks walkin' straight toward us. We figure they knowed where the barn was and was tryin' to git outta the rain too.

Billy told us to stay still and be quiet. He raise up his gun like he was aimin' to shoot. And thass 'xactly what he done. He must o' lined them sights up jus' right on that row o' ducks. Blest Pete, that bullet went through one of 'ems head and drop him dead. Then the dad blamed bullet kep' on goin' and drop the next one behind him too. Only thing I could think was, Watch out, you dirty Yankee scum, wherever you be. Way Billy kin shoot, he gonna send all y'all headin' back north, squallin'.

It was a hard time gittin' a fire goin'. Them little tin boxes the army give us to keep matches stay dry sposed to work good, but so much rain like we had, wadn't nothin' dry to light a match on. Hadn't been us findin' some dry rocks under the hay in the barn, we wudn't never lit no fire. 'Bout two hours later we had them two ducks clean and cooked, made us a pan o' grits, and our bellies was full. Wet as we was, we was ready to git some sleep. I kep' thinkin' 'bout how bad it wudda been if it wudn't been no barn.

Next mornin' we eat some left over grits and since it was near to daylight, we look 'round to see what was up 'head o' us. We didn't wanna bump into no mad farmer lookin' for two missin' ducks. We seen a little farm house out in the middle of a field, right the way we was goin'. Bes' we could tell, the yard fence was broke down. Most o' the windows was busted out and the yard look terrible growed up. We figure maybe nobody don't stay there no more. But the soldiers in Macon told us to be real careful and don't b'lieve nothin' nobody, special no Yankee, say. They said folks on the trail might think we was Yankees and shoot us 'fore we could prove who was right. When they said that, I started bein' scared this trip to Milledgeville was gonna be worse'n I thought.

Billy and us figure we better lay low and maybe jus' one or two of us oughta sneak up to the house and see if any folks in home. Billy pick me and Lawrence to be real secret, go up close, jus' look 'round, and come back and tell 'im what we seen.

The farm house wadn't really nearby so we walk up a fur piece more and sneak 'round bushes and trees so nobody wudn't see us. Pretty soon me and Lawrence was in the front yard. Both us look real hard and didn't see nothin' livin'. I told Lawrence since we ain't seen nothin' yet, lets go on up the front porch and knock on the door. He didn't wanna go, so I told him I would and when I walk up there, if he see somebody wanta shoot me, you shoot him first.

I raise my head up and look and wait. Then I walk to the porch. I still ain't seen nothin' movin' 'round yet so I walk closer. I git on the bottom step and watch the door. Pretty soon I git up on the porch and ain't nobody was pointin' nothin' at me. I knock on the door and listen. I knock again and put my ear up against the door and listen. Ain't nobody here. I hope them Yankees ain't startin' to run our folks out from their houses.

After all this lookin', I 'cided wadn't nobody in that house, or either they too scared to show up, so I wave my hand for Lawrence to come on up. Then I open the door so slow you couldn't hardly tell it was movin'. I couldn't see nobody in the first room, so I tiptoe in. I still ain't seen nobody, so me and Lawrence both look 'round some more. They was four rooms in the house and look like ain't nobody been there for a long spell. We didn't see no wood to burn or no food to cook or no clothes neither. There was some hickory nuts in a corner some squirrel musta haul in. We open the next door and a little mouse run to another room. Both o' them rooms had a bed without no mattress and look like ain't nobody been there for a long time. Me and Lawrence wonder did maybe the Yankees come in and take the folks away. Final, we figure we was safe and we got to go back and tell Billy.

Billy said we done a good job and we better be gittin' along 'cause we didn't have no idea if them soldiers in Milledgeville knowed we was comin' or not. If they knowed it and we was late we might git fussed at. Or they might think we Yankees and shoot us.

Billy told us one man need to go way up ahead and look out for Yankees. He said we gonna call him a lookout. That way all us wudn't run smack in to a whole raft o' trouble at one time. If somebody was to git kilt, might as well be jus' the lookout. Pretty soon we was movin' toward Milledgeville and follerin' Elliot, our lookout. Billy told Elliot if he see somethin' bad, hold a kerchief up and raise his arm up high.

I git to thinkin', Was it gonna be this much trouble all the way to Milledgeville? Was it gonna be this kinda trouble to drive them Yankees all the way past Virginia? Was this war gonna be lot more'n we been countin' on?

Things was goin' on pretty good for two hours. Elliot was still lookout, and we was follerin' Billy in a ten foot spacin'. I figure we oughta be in Milledgeville by tomorrow if nothin' bad don't come up. 'Bout time I thought things was goin' good, Billy said lay flat on the ground quick and look at Elliot. The boy was holdin' his handkerchief up in the air. Billy said he was goin' up to see if there was trouble and for us to aim our guns up that way and shoot if he said to.

Billy crawl and scamper past one bush after nuther, and then he set down side o' Elliot. They talk a minute and Billy git up and wave his hand for us to come up to where he was. We come up and seen we done run into a railroad track but wadn't no train comin' right then so we set down.