Editor Journal:
A copy of your interesting paper was handed to me by a
friend recently I was very much pleased with the stories
told by the ex-Confederates of their thrilling experiences
on the various battlefields of the war. I was a mere boy
when I entered the Confederate Army and was in my nineteenth
year when Johnston began his retreat from Dalton. It was at
Resaca I had the most hair raising experience I had in all
my war record; inasmuch as a Yankee bullet passed through a
part of my topknot. I was a high private with all the dirt,
greybacks and other prerequisites, in Co. G, 40th Georgia
Volunteer Infantry, Stovall's Brigade, Stewart's Division.
On the night of the 13th of May, Stovall's brigade was
stationed in a bend of the river above the Western and
Atlantic Railroad bridge. I suppose we were in reserve, as
the fighting was continuous in front of our position all the
morning of the 14th. About noon we were ordered forward. We
crossed the railroad and made a charge on a battery on a
hill by right flank through a steep hollow and afterward in
line under a raking fire of grape and cannister and climbing
a steep bluff to find the battery had vanished. After
nightfall we returned to our former position. About 10
o'clock on the 15th we were again ordered forward. This was
the day I had my lively adventures, two of them.
When we moved forward I observed that stray minnies were
uncomfortably frequent with their little song, and farther
we went the more they sang. Before we reached the railroad
track we encountered a strong skirmish line, and when they
fell back we were facing a well entrenched line of battle.
Our boys charged as far as the track, but the murderous fire
from the other side was more than they could long live in.
When we reached the track I cam upon some hewed timbers
about a foot square, that had probably been used for a skid
way to load some heavy weight on the cars. These formed sort
of a pen with an open side, and into this pen Andy Reid and
myself took precarious shelter from the leaden storm. In
adjusting a piece of timber for better protection, Andy was
wounded in the hand, and immediately went to the rear. The
pen was so shaped that I could not see what was going on
around me, and before I knew it the boys had fallen back and
left me; they were almost out of sight in the woods. I at
once realized my perilous position, a line of battle no
thirty yards away in front and an open run of fifty yards in
the rear. I did not want to be captured, neither did I want
to be killed.
My first impulse was to lie still and await developments, but the fear of capture outweighed the fear of death, and I resolved to make my run for liberty. Taking my gun at trail arms, and crouching low to the earth, I ran the fearful gauntlet, followed by a deluge of minnies and Yankee "cuss" words but the "cuss" words did not scare me worth a cent.
The earth around me presented the appearance of a pool of water in a hailstorm, and when I reached the pine thicket the pine needles were falling in a shower.
A run of a hundred yards brought me to a large pine and I embraced the earth behind its protecting trunk. Just at this critical moment some other troops came in sight and drew their fire, and I escaped further consideration. When I joined my company again I had three holes in my knapsack, one through the crown of my hat, one through my trouser leg and a slight scratch on the end of my nose; no other fatalities that I knew of.
My adventures did not end here for that memorable day. After going with a squad in a vain attempt to get a dead man off the battlefield, I was sent with another squad to put the wounded on a train near the bridge. We had succeeded in getting nearly all on board, when a Yankee shell came whirring past followed by others and a rattling of small arms. The train moved out with the throttle wide open and my comrades deserted me. There was one or two of the wounded men who were left, moaning for water and I could not leave until I had supplied them. Bullets were flying thick around me, but I did not leave them until the Yankees had got almost near enough to smell the "bad licker" on their breath; then I slipped out down the track towards the bridge. The firing told me the Yanks were in possession of the ground where I left my command, and I crossed the river with the Twenty Fourth South Carolina and remained at that bridge until daylight, nor did I find my command until near noon.
E. J. Stephens