A Sinecure

General Horatio C. King, on one occasion narrating some war memories,

said:

"We suffered many harships on both sides, but the poor, brave Confederates suffered most. I remember a grizzled old colored man who at the outbreak of the Spanish war applied for a place as an army cook.

"What experience have you had?'

the old fellow was asked.

"I was cook, sah, fo' a Confederate regiment in sixty-fo',' he answered'that is, sah, I had the position of cook, but, to tell the truth, I didn't work at

it.'

""Why not?"

""There wasn't nothin' to cook, sah.'"

The Battle of Yellow Tavern

I noticed in your issue of October 12 a communication from Mr. Frank Dorsey respecting the wounding of MajorGeneral J. E. B. Stuart at Yellow Tav. ern. There has been so much controversy in the papers during the last 35 or 40 years as to how the wounding and death of our noble General occurred, and as historians and others vary in their accounts of that sad tragedy and seem unable to agree, please allow an eyewitness and one who participated in that memorable engagement at Yellow Tavern to give to the public the exact truth. Mr. Dorsey's statement is nearer correct than any I have yet seen. I was in a position to know every particular of that memorable fight on May 11, 1864, when our beloved General re

ceived his death wound. I belonged to Company K of the First Virginia Cavalry, Companies D and K forming our squadron. Company D was made up of men from Washington county, Virginia, commanded by Captain Litchfield, and Company K, of Maryland, commanded by Lieut. Gus Dorsey. The First Virginia on that day was in line

of battle on the extreme left of Wick.

ham's brigade with Companies D and K forming the left of the regiment, resting on the Yellow Tavern road. Just across the road was General Lomax's brigade. D and K were deployed along a line of fence in the woods-a position they, together with the regiment, had held nearly the entire day. About 5 o'clock in the afternoon General Stuart came riding slowly through the woods, whistling and entirely alone, and took a position directly between. Fred Pitts (a young man from the eastern shore of Maryland) and myself, with his horse's head extending over the fence. My left elbow was touching the boot on General Stuart's right leg, while Pitts was equally as close to the General on his left. He had been with us in this position scarcely five minutes when some of General Lomax's mounted men made a charge up the road and were driven back by a regiment of Federal cavalry, which, when they got to our line of battle, filed to the left along the fence in front of our command, passing within 10 or 15 feet of General Stuart. They fired a volley as they passed, one shot of which hit the General in the side. I saw him press his hand to his side and said to him:

"General, you are hit." "Yes," he replied. "Are you wounded badly?" I asked. "I am afraid I am," he said, "but don't worry, boys, Fitz (meaning General Fitz Lee) will do as well for you as I have done." We were then taking him back, Tom Waters of Balti more leading his horse, while Fred Pitts and myself, one on either side of him, went back about 100 yards, when Pitts and myself left him in charge of Waters and some men from the ambulance corps and returned to our position at the fence, as it was of the greatest importance to hold this position to prevent him from being captured. This we did until General Stuart had been removed from the field, when our regiment slowly retreated. When Pitts and myself left him, the General was still sitting on his horse. When he was wounded he was near the center of Company K, with no other troops near him. He took neither a courier nor any member of his staff with him. Who took him off his horse, I do not know.

J. R. OLIVER. 235 W. Preston St., Baltimore.

Captured and Court-Martialed The writer, a Virginian, a youth of nineteen, had already seen three and a half years of active service in the Confederate army, when early in November, 1864, he joined a foolhardy expedition of 380 men to capture the town of Beverly, in Randolph county, West Virginia, held by an Ohio cavalry regiment (the Eighth, I understood) 800 strong, Our command (called in army parlance a “Q” Battalion, viz: men from different companies and different regiments of General John D. Imboden's brigade, recently ordered to Highland county to recruit our horses, broken down in Early's raid on Washington City, and the active campaign in the Shenandoah valley, lately ended), was led by Captain Hill, of the Sixty-second Virginia, a young West Virginia mountaineer of reckless daring.

Owing to the disparity in numbers, our only hope of success lay in a "surprise," and as a large portion of the denizens of West Virginia were stanch Unionists, we were forced to abandon the public roads and make the journey through the heart of the mountains. The afternoon of October 27th, found us some six miles from our destination. Here we got our supper and rested till dark, when with injunctions of strict silence, and to muzzle our canteens to prevent their jingling, we resumed our march, flanked the enemy's pickets, and took a position on the river bank, less than a mile distant from the town, where we lay on our arms, intending to attack at dawn, while the enemy still slept. Despite our precautions, the enemy apprised of our approach, had posted a chain guard (connecting sentinels) over a half mile from their camp, and nearly an hour before dawn their bugle sounded "Reville."

We sprang to our feet at the sound. and formed in line. Undaunted at the miscarriage of his plans, and though outnumbered nearly three to one (having lost a hundred men by straggling the previous night), our intrepid leader determined on an intsant attack, and passed the order down the line, "Forward."

We had advanced but a few hundred yards when "Who comes there? Halt!" Bang! Bang! greeted us.

"Charge boys," shouted Hill, and the "rebel yell" awoke the echoes of the mountains as we dashed up the river bank, and swept at double quick on their line, they firing on us by our "yell" and we on them by the flash of their carbines. As we neared their line they broke and retreated to their quarters, one-story log huts built on a hollow square. We cut off and captured sereral hundred prisoners, who subsequently escaped, as we could spare few men to guard them.

We thought "the red field won," and pressed on to their quarters, yelling

"surrender, surrender," and many of our men fell dead at the dors of the various cabins, shot dead by the inmates. who could distinguish their forms in the dim light, while within all was dark as Erebus. After discharging our muskets, at close range, we clubbed them and battled hand to hand. Captain Hill, Lieutenant Gamble, and every of. ficer in command went down in the "shock of battle," and dawn now revealing the paucity of our numbers, the enemy rallied, and attacked us with renewed fury. Without leaders, and scattered in this pell-mell fight in the dark, our men were driven back and began to retreat in all directions.

Had I realized that we were whipped (a most difficult task for a volunteer to learn) I could have mounted eight or ten men (as the enemy's horses stood in the stables near by, fully equipped), captured their pickets and made my escape; but I attempted in vain to rally our men, until I found myself nearly alone, when I retreated, waded the river (holding my gun and cartridge box above my head, as the water came up to my neck) and succeeded in reaching a wooded swamp nearby, with five of my comrades, where we were soon surrounded, and forced to surrender to a scouting party sent out to cut off our retreat to the mountains.

Ninety of us, picked up in small squads, were captured and huddled together in what had once been on old frame church, now utilized as a guard house. The stone foundations four feet high, with the upright beams supporting the roof, still stood, but the sides, flooring and other woodwork had been ripped off, and devoted to campfire duty. With its floor of earth and open sides, it afforded little protection from the wintry blasts that swept from the surrounding mountains.

My loved mother (peace to her ashes) had sent me from Philadelphia, Pa., (made into a skirt and worn by a Vir

ginia relative through the lines) some gray cloth which I had made into a uniform resembling (as I subsequently learned) those worn by "Jesse Scouts," Federal soldiers, thus clad, to pass more readily as "Rebs" within our lines.

When I was brought into camp, one of the "Yanks" remarked: "Johnny, you look very much like a fellow that used to scout for General Averill." Deeming it only a casual remark I replied simply, "Do I?" and gave no further heed to the matter.

About three o'clock that afternoon I was summoned and escorted by two guards before a drumhead court martial composed of five regimental officers (the other officers being present as "amici curiae") held in a large room on the first floor of one of the town dyellings, used as army headquarters by the Colonel commanding, and charged with desertion and joining the enemy, conviction for which meant death.

I had braved the "grim monster" on many fields, but, amid "the rapture of the fight," when not altogether oblivious of his presence, his visage was not unfriendly, but now, at the thought of being led out and shot "like a dog" on a false accusation, death inspired disgust rather than terror. Friendless and exhausted, by the long tramp through the mountains, the charge and fight of the early morn, I sank into a chair and gazed at the stern faces about me; no pity in their eyes, not even in those of a young lieutenant whom I had captured that morning, and to whom I had given a blanket (picked up on the field) remarking that "it would be very cold going back through the mountains and that he would need it."

When he came into the room I said

pleasantly, "Lieutenant, they have me on very serious charges." He replied coldly, "Well I guess they are true." I said no more. The court was rapped to order; silence reigned and the judgeadvocate proceeded to read the "charg

es," which alleged that a few months prior I had been attached to Gen. Averill's command as a scout; had desert. ed, joined the enemy and had that day been captured with arms in my hand. I was ordered to plead. I entered an emphatic and indignant "not guilty." I was first questioned on my personal history and told the ourt briefly that I was a native of Richmond, Va. That I had left college at the outbreak of the war and enlisted as a private in Company A, 52nd Va. Capt. James A. Skinner's Company and Colonel John B. Baldwin's regiment; that at the reorganization of the army in the spring of 1862 I had joined Company D, of the 62nd Virginia, and that I was color bearer of my regiment.

The Court then asked our intentions in the raid. I replied that when the Valley campaign closed, some six hundred of us with broken down horses had been sent to highland county to recruit them; that a gentleman who came through the lines had reported there was a Federal cavalry regiment at Beverly, handsomely mounted; and that being in need of horses, some three hundred and eighty of us had volunteered to come over and "give them a brush," hoping to surprise, capture and parole the garrison and go back mounted, but they had "turned the tables on us." Lieutenant Robert Gamble, Acting Adjutant, had been killed in the fight and the muster-roll of our little command found on him. I was questioned fifteen or twenty minutes on this roll, and having answered all questions put to me, I turned to the Court and said: "Gentlemen, it stands to reason that if I had been a deserter from your army for two or three months as the man for whom I am taken, is reported to be, it would be impossible for me to place to their companies and regiments, men from twentysix or twenty-eight companies and three or four different regiments. Instead of three months it has taken me three years to obtain this knowledge." The

Court gave no consideration to this remark. I reminded them that there were ninety prisoners in the guard house, who could testify that I had never served a day in the Federal army, and requested that they be called as witnesses in my behalf. My request was refused. I then told them that if I were given the opportunity I could prove my innocence by an uncle in the North, a resident of Philadelphia, Pa., and such a radical Union man that he would like to see the whole Southern army exterminated. They would listen to nothing that I advanced, nor accede to any of my requests, and seemed to be rushing the trial through as quickly as possible, as if to verify Daniel Webster's assertion that "Courts-martial are only convened to convict." Two names were now called be the pudge-advocate; a man of twenty-two and one of twenty-eight came forward, and were asked if I were the man who had scouted for Gen. Averill in the valley last summer. The scrutinized me closely and replied, "yes." "Are you certain of it?" asked the Court. They took another look and again answered "yes." The judge-advocate then reached for a Bible to swear them to the truth of their statements. In another minute I would have been convicted. Now thoroughly aroused and desperate, I was unable longer to restrain myself, and jumping to my feet and riveting my eyes on my accusers, exclaimed: "Gentlemen, it is in your power to swear away my life, but remember in so doing you murder an innocent man," and turning to the Court I continued defiantly "and gentlemen, I want you to understand, that shooting down prisoners is a game that two can play at, and this farce of a trial will not avail you. You've got not only to murder me, as you seem intent on doing, but you will also have to mur. der my ninety comrades in the guard house, or they will carry to Gen. Imboden my request to hang ten Yankees for me. Now go on with your proceed

ing. This is all I have to say." And I stood before them with folded arms and blazing eyes. My words fell like a bomb. That was a phase of the case they had not considered, and doubtless recalled Mosby having hung six Yanks along the Valley Pike the previous summer, in retaliation for six of his men taken prisoners and hung at Fort Royal. The proceedings were instantly halted, the witnesses slunk to one side. The Court arose and went to the further end of the room, where after a whispered consultation of a few minutes they returned, resumed their seats, and the President announced that the Court had decided to send me for trial to Gen. Averill. "Thank you, gentlemen," I said, "that is all I ask; if Gen. Averill will say that I ever scouted an hour for him (I fought him repeatedly in the Valley last summer) he is at liberty to shoot, hang or quarter me." I was then sent back to the guard house and rejoined my comrades. The two witnesses against me now seemed to take a fancy to me, brought me a blanket and food, and vied with each other in kindly attention.

I had no faith in the Court or its announced intention, and believed that it was but a ruse to detain me until after my comrades had been sent off, and then to shoot me secretly. From their action and treatment I judged that they had seen little service and were utter strangers to the gentle courtesy, and chivalric bearing of the true soldier. They had refused my request of the morning to be allowed to go under guard to view our killed and wounded, so we could report their fate and save their being classed "missing." They appeared very jubilant over their victory, and I felt sure that they were bent on topping it off with a "shooting match," with me as the star attraction. So little faith had I in the Court's announced decision, and so confident was I that they intended to murder me, that I would have attempted to escape had I had the free

use of my legs, although there would not have been one chance in a hundred of success, as I would have had to scale the four foot wall of the gaurd house, taking the fire of the guard at a few paces, then traverse a half mile plain to the river, wade or swim it, and then go another half mile before reaching the mountains, and once there, make my way back to our lines without guide or compass. I had sprained my left ankle badly in the charge of the early morn, and in my present crippled condition, I saw that one chance vanish and so resigned myself stoically to whatever fate awaited me. I wrote a farewell letter to my now sainted mother, and one to my commanding General, reciting briefly the facts and requesting him to make good my threat to the Court, by invoking the "Lex tallionis." These I gave to one of my comrades for de-. livery, and being utterly exhausted by fatigue and the excitement of the day, I rolled myself in my blanket and slept soundly all night. The next morning we arose early as our men were to be sent to the rear. Shortly before the line formed, the two witnesses called on me and said, "Johnny, let us look at your teeth." On my complying with their request, they exclaimed, "We know now we were mistaken and that you are not the man we took you for, as that fellow had lost his front teeth," (they had not asked to see my teeth at the trial) and I replied, "Well, my friends, you came near making the discovery after I was under ground." They reported their error to the Colonel and I was sent off with my comrades. We were marched some six miles over the mountains without a halt, they being mounted while we were afoot. By this time my ankle had become so painful and swollen that my boot had to be cut from my foot, and I was unable to walk further, and indignantly refused so to do, telling the guard that they could shoot me, but I could not and would not walk another step. walk another step. They then put me