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How Private George W. Peck Put Down The Rebellion

<h2> CHAPTER XXI. </h2> I Go on a Scouting Expedition—My Horse Dies of Poison— I Turn Horse-Thief—I Capture a Church, Congregation, and Ministers, but I Spare the Communion Wine. Let's see, the last chapter left me with a million dollars, more or less, of confederate money in my possession, and yet I had not enough to buy a square meal. I think there was no one thing that caused, the people of the confederate states, outside of their army, to realize the hopelessness of their cause, along in '64, as much as the relative value of confederate money and greenbacks. Of course the confederate soldiers, poor fellows, realized the difference some, when they could get hold of greenbacks, but the people of the south who did not have rations furnished them, and who had to skirmish around and buy something to live upon, early learned that a greenback was worth “two in the bush,” as it were. No community in the south was more loyal to the confederacy than the people of Montgomery, Alabama. They tried to use confederate currency as long as there was any hope, and they tried hard to despise the greenbacks; but when it got so that a market basket full of their own currency was looked upon with suspicion by their own dealers in eatables, and a greenback was sought after by the dealer, and its possessor was greeted with a smile while the overloaded possessor of confederate currency was frowned upon, more in sorrow than in anger, however, a wild desire took possession of the people to get hold of the hated greenbacks; and a soldier or army follower who had a good supply of greenbacks was met more than half way in reconciliation; and little jobs were put up to get the money that made many ashamed, but they had to have greenbacks. Many would have given their lives if confederate money could have been as good as the money of the invaders, but it was not and never could be, and it was not an hour after the enemy was in Montgomery before people who had been loyal to the south up to that hour and believed in its currency, went back on it completely, and they cherished the greenback and hugged it to their bosoms like an old friend. They had rather had gold, but good green paper would buy so much more than any currency they had known for years, that they snatched it greedily. And many of them enjoyed the first real respect for the Union that they had had for four years, when they met the well-fed and well-clothed Union soldiers, who did not seem as bad as they had been painted, the poorest one of which had more money in his pockets than the richest citizen of supposed wealth. The people seemed surprised to meet well-dressed private soldiers who could converse on any subject, and who seemed capable of doing any kind of business. Fires broke out in many places in the city, and Union soldiers went to work with the primitive fire apparatus at hand and put out the fires. Locomotives had been thrown from the track of the railroad in an attempt to destroy them, and private soldiers were detailed to put the locomotives together and run them, which they did, to the surprise of the people. An officer would take charge of a quantity of captured property, and he would detail the first half-dozen soldiers he met to go and make out an invoice of the property, and the boys would do it as well as the oldest southern merchant. A planter that could not speak anything but French would come to the captain, of a company to complain of something, and the captain after vainly trying to understand the man, would turn to some soldier in his company and say, “Here Frenchy, talk to this man, and see what he wants,” and the soldier would address the planter in French, politely, and in a moment the difficulty would be settled, and the planter would go away bowing and smiling. Any language could be spoken by the soldiers, and any business that ever was transacted could be done by them. A soldier printer visited the office of a city paper, and in a conversation with the editor informed him that there were editors enough in his regiment to edit the New York Herald. At first the better class of citizens, the old fathers in Israel, of the confederacy, stood aloof from the new soldiers in blue, expecting them to be insolent, as conquerors are sometimes supposed to be; but soon they saw that the boys were as mild a mannered and friendly and jolly a lot as they ever saw, not the least inclined to gloat over their fallen enemy, and at times acting as though they were sorry to make any trouble; and it was not long before boys in blue and citizens in gray were playing billiards together, with old gentlemen keeping count for them, old fellows, who a week before would have been insulted if any one had told them they would ever speak to a Yankee soldier. The second day the southern ladies, who had kept indoors, came out and promenaded the beautiful streets, and seemed to enjoy the sight of the bright uniforms, and before night acquaintances had been made, and it did not cause any remark to see Union officers and soldiers waiting with ladies, talking with animation, and laughing pleasantly. It almost seemed, as though the war was over. It was about this time that I stole my first horse. I had ridden horses that had been “captured” from the enemy, in fair fights, and that had been accumulated in divers ways by the quartermaster, and issued to the men, but I never deliberately stole a horse. Two or three companies of my regiment had gone off on a scout, to be gone a couple of days, leaving the command at Montgomery, and one day we were encamped on an old abandoned field, taking dinner. The horses and mules were grazing near us, and there was no indication that any epidemic was about to break out. We were about sixty miles from Montgomery, and were cooking our last meal, expecting to make a forced march and be back before morning. I had got the midday meal for Jim and myself cooked, the bacon, sweet potatoes, coffee and so forth, and spread upon a horse blanket on the ground, and we were just about to sit down to eat, when a mule that had been browsing near us, and snooping into our affairs, attracted our attention. All of a sudden the animal became rigid, and stood up as stiff as possible, then its muscles relaxed, and it became limber, and whirled around and brayed, backed up towards us, and as we rushed away to keep from being kicked, the mule fell over in a fit directly on our beautifully cooked dinner, rolled over on the bacon and potatoes and coffee, and trembled and brayed, and died right there. I looked at Jim and Jim looked at me. “Well, condam a mule, anyway,” said Jim. “That animal has been ready to die for two hours, and just to show its cussedness, it waited until we had our dinner cooked, the last morsel we had, and then it fell in a fit, and expired on our dining table.” I made some remark not complimentary to the mule as a member of society and we went to the corpse and pulled it around to see if we couldn't save a mouthful or two that could be eaten. We could not, as everything was crushed into the ground. I suggested that we cut a steak out of the mule, and broil it, but Jim said he was not going to be a cannibal, if he knew his own heart. While we were looking at the remains of our meal, my horse, the rebel horse that I had rode so many months, and loved so, which was hitched near, lay down, began to groan and kick, and in two minutes he was dead. Then Jim's horse went through the same performance and died, and by that time there was a commotion all around camp, horses and mules dying suddenly, until within half an hour there were only a dozen animals alive, and forty cavalrymen, at least, were horseless. The camp looked like a battle field. Nobody knew what was the matter of the animals, until an old negro, who lived near, came out and said, “You uns ought to know better than to let you horses eat dat sneeze weed. Dat is poison. Kills animals, just like rat poison.” And then he showed us a weed, with a square stem, that grew there, and which was called sneeze weed. He said native animals would not touch it, but strange animals eat it because it was nice and green. Well, we were in a fix. The men were called together, and the major told them there was nothing to do but to take their saddles and bridles on their backs and walk to Montgomery, unless they could steal a horse. He advised us to scatter into parties of two or three, enough to protect ourselves from possible attack, go on cross roads, and to plantations, forage for something to eat, and take the first horse or mule we could find, and report to Montgomery as soon as possible. Jim and I, of course, decided to stand by each, other, and after the men who had not lost their horses, had rode away, the forty dismounted men shouldered their saddles, and started in different directions, seeking some other men's horses. I never had realized that a cavalry saddle was so heavy, before. Mine seemed to weigh a ton. We struck a cross road, and followed it for two or three miles, when I called a council of war, with Jim. I told him that it was all foolishness to lug those heavy saddles all over the Southern Confederacy. If we succeeded in stealing horses, we could probably steal saddles, also, or if not we could get a sheepskin. I told Jim I would receipt to him for his saddle, and then I would leave them in a fence corner, and if we ever got back to the regiment I would report the saddle lost in action. Jim said I had a great head, and he consented, and we left our saddles and moved on. Jim said that now we had only a bridle and a pair of spurs, we were more like regularly ordained horse-thieves. He said the most successful horse-thief he ever knew in Wisconsin never had anything but a halter as his stock in trade. He would go out with a halter, with a rope on the end, pick up a horse, put the rope in the horse's mouth, and ride away, and nobody could catch him. I asked Jim if he didn't feel humiliated, a loyal soldier, to class himself with horse-thieves. He said when he enlisted he made up his mind to do nothing but shoot rebels through the heart or the left lung. It was his idea to be a sharpshooter, and aim at the button on the left breast of the enemy, but when he found that lots of the rebels didn't have any buttons on their coats and that he might shoot all day at a single rebel and not hit him, and that shooting into them in flocks didn't seem to diminish the enemy the least bit, he had made up his mind to turn his hand to anything; and if the rebellion could be put down easier by his stealing horses at thirteen dollars a month, he would do it if ordered. He said we were only putting in time, promenading around, and we should get our salary all the same. And so we wandered on, talking the thing over. When we came to a plantation we would walk all around it, and examine the woods and swamps adjacent, because the people of the South had learned that a horse or a mule was not safe anywhere out of the most impenetrable swamp. It was dark when Jim and I decided to camp for the night, and we went into a deserted cotton gin and prepared for a sleep. It was almost dark, and Jim said he had just seen a chicken, near a cabin, fly up in a peach tree to roost, and he was going to have the chicken as soon as it was dark. I laid down on some refuse cotton, and Jim went out after the chicken. I had fallen asleep when Jim returned, and he had the chicken, and a skillet, and a couple of canteens of water. I crawled out of my nest and built a fire, while Jim dressed the chicken, and got the water to boiling, and the chicken was put in. For three hours we boiled the chicken, but each hour made it tougher. I told Jim he might be a success as a horse-thief, but when it come to stealing tender poultry he was a lamentable failure, but he said it was the only hen on the place, and if I didn't want to eat it I could retire to my couch and he would set up with the hen. I was so hungry, and the smell of the boiling hen was so Savory, that I remained awake, and at about midnight Jim announced that he had succeeded in prying off a piece of the breast, so we speared the hen out of the water, laid it on the frame of a grindstone in the gin-house, and sat down to the festive board. “Will you have the light or the dark meat,” asked Jim, with a politeness that would have done credit to a dancing-master. I told, him I preferred the dark meat, so he took hold of one leg and I the other, and we pulled the hen apart. The hen seemed to be copper-rivetted, for when I got a chunk of it down, and it chinked up a vacant place in the stomach, it did seem as though there was nothing like hen to save life. We eat sparingly that night, because we were weak, and the hen was strong, and we laid down and slept peacefully, and awoke in the morning hungry. When the hen became cold, in the morning it was tough. “Will you have some of the cold chicken,” said Jim, and I told him I would try a little. It was better than India rubber, and we made a breakfast and started on. It was Sunday. As we came out to the main road, we saw people dressed up, that is, with clean shirts. As ten o clock approached we could see colored people and white, wending their way to a little church in the pine woods. We kept out of sight, and waited, several parties passed us on horseback, some in carriages, and many on foot. Presently three soldiers of our scattered party came along carrying saddles, and we called them into the woods, where we were. I unfolded to them my scheme, which was to surround that church, hold the worshippers as prisoners inside, while we stole the horses that would be hitched to the fence. Jim kicked on it. He said he had rather walk than to interfere with people who were enjoying their religion. He said he was never very pious himself, but his parents were, and he should always hate himself if he helped to raid that church. The other fellows were for going for the horses. Pretty soon four more of our boys came along, and we called them in. They had got on to the church services, and had their eyes on the horses. That made nine of us, and as we were armed, we believed we could capture those old men and women and negroes, and get the horses. Being a brevet officer I was placed in command of the party, and a plan was agreed upon. We were to scatter and surround the church, and ask the people outside to step inside, and then lock the door, and place a guard on three sides of the little old church where there were windows, but not to fire a gun unless attacked, and not to speak disrespectfully to any person. If there was any argument with anybody, I was to do the talking. We decided to take about fifteen horses, if there were that number there, because we would be sure to find some of our scattered boys dismounted before we got far toward Montgomery, and it was a good idea to take horses when we had a chance. Well, it was a job I did not like, but what was a fellow to do. We were sixty miles from headquarters, on foot and out of meat. I had never been in a church row before. It seemed as though religious worshippers ought to be exempt from war, with its wide desolation. But business was business. We surrounded the church, walking up quietly from different directions, and as we closed up on the sacred edifice half a dozen men, white and colored, were standing in front, and two men were talking over a horse trade. The minister was expounding the gospel, talking loud, and all else was still. We invited the outsiders to go in, which they did with some reluctance, the door was fastened on the outside, guards were placed, and the preaching stopped. The minister had been informed that the yankees had captured the place. There were only two sides of the church with windows, so two guards were sufficient, and the rest of us went to work skinning the harnesses off the horses. A window was raised and an old man stuck his head out and said, as one of the boys was mounting an old mare belonging to him, “I forbid you touching that mare.” A carbine was pointed at the window, and the old man drew in his head, and the window was slammed down.  <div class="fig"> <ANTIMG src="images/287.jpg" alt="I Forbid You Touching That Mare 287 " width-obs="100%" /> </div> We had got sixteen pretty good horses, when a window on the other side opened, and the minister's head was put out, and he said, “In the name of the church I command you to desist.” He looked so fierce that Jim, who was on guard on that side, and who had objected to the scheme on account of its being a church, cocked his carbine and pointed it at the minister and said, “gol darn you, dry up!” He dried up, the window closed and except for the heads at the windows, and faces looking very mad, all was quit. When we had got the horses strung out, and the men were mounted, I looked in a carriage, accidentally, and saw a basket, covered over with a paper. The paper was a religious one, published at Savannah, and being a newspaper man, I looked at the leading editorial, which was headed, “The Lord will provide.” I never took much stock in regular stereotyped editorials, but when I turned my eye from the editorial to the basket, I realized than an editorial in a religious newspaper, was liable to contain much truth, for the basket was filled with as fine a lunch as a man ever saw. It seemed that the people came quite a long distance to church, and brought their dinner, remaining to the afternoon services. O, but I was hungry. I looked in several other carriages, and found baskets in each. Every man in my party was as hungry as a she wolf, and I knew they would not leave a mouthful if they once got to going on the lunches, and as it wasn't the policy of my government to take the bread from the mouths of Sunday-school children, I decided to divide the lunches. So I appointed Jim and an Irishman to help me, and we opened all the baskets and took half. Jim came to one basket with two loaves of bread and two bottles of wine, and he stopped. He said, “Pard, that lay-out in the big basket, with the silver pitcher, is for the communion. I'm a bold buccaneer of the Spanish main, but I'll be cussed if I touch that.” The Irishman said no power on earth could get him to touch it, and he crossed himself reverently, and we left the communion lay-out, and passed the half we had taken from the baskets around among the boys, and they eat as though a special providence had provided them with appetites and means of satisfying them. After enjoying the meal the boys said we ought to return thanks for the good things the pious people had provided for us, so I went to the door of the church, opened it, and faced the congregation. There were old and young, and some of them looked mad, and I didn't blame them. In a few well chosen remarks I addressed the minister, telling him I regretted the circumstances, but it was necessary to do what we had done. We had tried to do it as pleasantly as possible, but no doubt it seemed hard to them. I said we had got to go to Montgomery, and that if any of them who had lost their horses, would come there within a few days, I had no doubt the proper authorities would return them their horses, but that they must stand the loss of a half of their lunch, as we had divided it up as square as we knew how. One young Confederate soldier, with an empty sleeve, who had come to church with his mother, and who could, no doubt, realize the situation better than the rest, said, “That is all right, Mr. Yankee. I would do the same thing, under the circumstances, if I was in your country, horseless and hungry.” There were some murmurs of dissatisfaction, some smiled at the situation, and we mounted and rode away. Before we were out of sight the whole congregation was out of the church, under the pine trees, taking an account of stock, or lost stock, and no doubt saying hard things of the Yankees. We traveled all day and nearly all night, picked up some of our dismounted men, and arrived in Montgomery the next day before noon. In a few days my one-armed confederate soldier, who was home from the army in Virginia, having been discharged for disability, came to Montgomery with the people who had lost their horses at the church, and I had the satisfaction of seeing many of them either receive their animals back, or vouchers from the quartermaster, by which they got pay from the government for the animals. And I entertained the one-armed confederate for two days, and we became great friends. Two years ago I met him in Georgia, grown gray, and found him connected with a Georgia railroad, and we had a great laugh over my capture of the congregation. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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