Confederate veteran recalls experiences of war
Editor’s Note: The following article was written by Confederate veteran John D. McClanahan of Hartselle and published in the “Hartselle Enterprise on Dec. 15, 1919.
Where I was 55 years ago? In the Confederate Army, of course, leaving Corinth, Miss. By order of General Forest, in December 1864, to make a scout to Memphis, Tenn. So he ordered Col. Stewart to go to Memphis and fire on their outside port so as to impress the Federals to prevent them from reinforcing Nashville against Gen. Hood of the Confederate Army, who fought a mighty battle at Franklin, Tenn., where he lost 1,400 men killed.
Well, on this scout to Memphis, we went through the fiery ordeal of our life. We could not buy anything to eat or anything to feed on. They would not have Confederate money nor a receipt on the Confederacy. So the Col. came to me and said, “Mack don’t you boys be too extravagant and do not let me catch you with anything you see that would bring up any trouble”. So when I made a raid and got some fresh meat and other eatables, the colonel got a share.
Col. Stewart was a fine officer and a big-hearted, brave soldier.
While on the scout it had rained and sleeted and then froze. The ice was 1 1/4 inches thick over several counties. So when we would strike a camp, we would break the ice and pile it up out of our way, build a fire and pile down on our blankets and make the best of it.
We had zero weather, but alas those Memphis Yankees got in behind us, then trouble came up. We ere water bound below Hatchey River.
So we dodged from place to place in and near Boliver and Sommerville. Well, we planned to dodge. We were too few to engage in a battle, only about 400 of us. So every move we made we would get nearer out; get near a place to cross the river. So five and I more, with a sergeant, were sent back to Salesberry on picket on Mud Creek.
Capt. Ben Collier of Decatur was sent back to command the picket port. So I and five stood picket four hours on the bridge and it froze over in ice, 3-4 mile from horse, so when relieved and got back to the reserve port, I pulled off my shoes and rolled up in my blankets and went to sleep.
The boys built up a fire and burned off the toes of my shoes. Then I got my feet frost bit and my toenails turned blue but they did not come off. So Capt. Collier and the pickets got to the command on Christmas Day at the point where we intended to cross the river, but those Yankees beat us there and they crossed the river and burned the bridge behind them, but they did not know just where we were.
The Yankee raid had got ahead of us and still one behind us, the Yankees had stopped to feed and eat, then they moved on, then the Col. pressed a pilot and we crossed over, it being a very dark night.
The Yankees turned to the right and we turned to the left, as their object was to tear up the roads from Booneville to Okolona to cut off any supplies that might be shipped to Corinth. So the next day we landed back at Corinth.
There I took sick from exposure. Took typhoid fever, then it went into camp fever. When I took the fever I weighed 173 pounds, 20 years old.
From this place Gen. Forest ordered our battalion to North Alabama. I was put in an ambulance and hauled seven days not able to sit up. Finally, we landed in Landersville, Lawrence County. There I got a furlough for 15 days and on the 15th of January 1865, I got home. I had to get down on my hands and knees and crawl, first at Russellville, then on East Flint up a hill to old Squire Ben Sandlin’s who sent me home.
When I got home my mother did not know me. I was a perfect skeleton only weighing 100 pounds. So my mother took me to old Dr. William Gill who examined me and gave me a certificate certifying that I would not be able to stand to return to camp before late spring.
So after the expiration of 55 years, I look back with sadness and wonder how it is that most all of my comrades are gone and I am still spared to live and enjoy life. It all seems to me like a dream and I wonder that the Lord has passed me through all of these hardships.
– John D. McClanahan
