The Perilous Picket Post

[Peace Society]

Two brothers in east Tennessee try to join the Union army. "We travelled nine days and nights in the woods, hiding days and travelling nights, and once we passed the rebel picket with a cow-bell tied around Robert's neck, and got to the army in Kentucky, and three days afterwards we went in and took the Gap." They were both taken prisoner and Robert died in Macon.

Related to Miss Woolsey, Supt. of the Fairfax Seminary hospital in Alexandria.
Hospital Days: Reminiscence of a Civil War Nurse
Jane Stuart Woolsey
Edinborough Press, Roseville, MN, 1996

 

[Peace Society]

HQ, Fortress Monroe, VA
Feb. 3, 1862

Even our enemies seem to have left us to amuse ourselves as best we can. Picket, or grand guard duty is the only diversion from lazing in camp these dull, rainy days, and, as the rebels have deserted us, even that is getting uninteresting. Tame as it is getting to be, it must be attended to, as the safety of the entire army depends upon the grand guard.
E. G.

Letter quoted in
My Story of the War: a Woman's Narrative or Four Years Personal Experience
Mary A Livermore, 1887, p. 645
[New intro by Nina Silber, Da Capo Press, NY, 1995]

 

[Peace Society]

June 1863
It came my turn to go on picket-duty a few days after the cavalry fight; my command receiving ten days' rations, for all knew that the corps might take the road at any moment. Outpost duty was to me a decided relief from the stagnation of regimental camp-life and routine. It was therefore with positive pleasure that I rolled up my overcoat and blankets, - my faithful friend and follower D making a perfect packhorse of himself with a tremendous stock of provisions….
Bidding my brother officers adieu, I set out with my detail for our post of duty. The day was bright and warm; but the woods were delightfully cool and shady in their fresh young foliage, our narrow path under the trees being fringed with wild flowers, fragrant and beautiful. The twitter of the mating birds overhead, the soft hum of the insects, and the splash of a brook as its waters went tumbling over the steep bank into the river, sounded in my ears as I marched at the head of my little column, until I almost fancied myself in my native woods, the heavy tread of our party and the clink of steel alone destroying the illusion.
We were to relive a part of the pickets lying a few miles above the junction of the two rivers [Rapidan and Rappahannock]; and, as the post was scarcely three miles distant from our camp, we were not long in reaching our destination. On finding the officer in command, I discovered, that, though I had an equal number of men, I was expected to cover a longer line than his; the pickets of the other brigade having been, for some unexplained reason, entirely withdrawn, consequently I was assigned to the entire division line. As the retiring pickets had been on duty for five days, I expected a similar period of service. It was a matter of indifference to me, however, for we had an ample supply of food; the men seeming to share my delight at escaping from camp duty and drill. Going over the ground to be guarded, I ascertained that we held fully a mile of the river, so, while posting my sentries, was careful to caution the men to keep up frequent communication with each other, and avoid giving needless alarms.
Having occasion to change the location of the reserve post, I directed Sergeant F to pick out a suitable position, while I arranged the line. By noon I had accomplished the latter to my satisfaction, and, after seeing the old picket-guard sling their knapsacks and depart for camp, turned my footsteps towards the center of our extended position. The spot selected by F for our reserve bivouac lay among some immense rocks that had evidently been piled up on the river-bank, in chaotic confusion, by some might convulsion of nature. Admirably adapted for defense, and approached by a rude path which wound around the bowlders at the top, the little rocky nest was entirely hidden, though we had a complete view of the river, both above and below the bend. The dense undergrowth that overhung these disrupted rocks formed a leafy canopy above our heads, completely sheltering us from the rays of the sun.
I found my men quietly awaiting me; and, as I at once approved of the sergeant's choice, they were not long in making every thing snug and comfortable. There was ample room for two hundred men; and, as my whole command was scarcely half that number, there was plenty of elbow-room for those off duty. D soon fixed a quiet corner for me; while others busied themselves in gathering a stock of fuel for our watch-fires, finding an abundant supply in a heap of dry drift-wood deposited at the foot of the rocks by the frequent freshets on the river.
Leaning against one of the massive stones forming the ramparts of our natural fortress, I gave myself up to reflection. Gazing on the swiftly moving river, its current narrowed and deepened in the bend by the intrusive, unyielding presence of these conglomerate rocks, and watching the shifting shadows as they played on the angry surface of the turbulent steam, I thought of the weary marches and thrilling battle-scenes I had participated in. The toil, perils, and excitements attending army-life gave zest to the present, and led my into bright anticipations for the future. I knew the approaching campaign was to be a severe and protracted one, but my heart beat high with hope as I forecast the probable scope and result of the movement….
The time passed quickly, and we had been three days on picket-duty without any incident happening to disturb us. There were no challenges during the night, no signs of the enemy by day. Indeed, I began to suspect that we were guarding the river against nobody; for the Confederate pickets, who had maintained a pleasant intercourse with our predecessors in exchanging coffee and tobacco, were now no longer visible. In this belief I was joined by Lt. M, commanding the pickets on my left, and we communicated our suspicions to the field-officer who visited us; but he failing to share them, we continued as much on the alert as though the opposite bank were fringed with hostile riflemen.
I had just returned from an inspection of my line on the afternoon of the fourth day, having found every thig provokingly quiet and uninteresting. The evening was deliciously cool, the breeze down the river being laden with the perfumes of the forest; and I experienced a fresh degree of pleasure in viewing the romantic scene after supper. Carelessly lounging over the top of a bowlder, smoking my pipe, my thoughts began drifting away again; and I had wholly forgotten my surroundings, when D suddenly touched my arm … "What are you staring at, you idiot?" "Why, I thought I saw a man down there on the other side." "I see no one." "Yis; there he is now." "Where?" "Why, over there, by that big birch-tree. There he is, sitting down on that flat bit of rock, for all the world like a big brown toad."… A man was there, sure enough, sitting among some rocks at the river's edge, as motionless as if made himself of stone. "It must be one of the Confederate pickets. They are beginning to show themselves again. Tell Sgt. F I want him." "Sergeant, take your rifle, and pass along our line to the right. See that the men are on the lookout. There's a man down there on the opposite bank, and no doubt more above and below. Tell Sgt. C to take the left and do the same." There was no need to enjoin silence, for all seemed to appreciate its necessity.
The sun had gone down, but there was sufficient light left for us to discern the man crouching under the trees. I had noticed that he had no musket, and, as I watched him, I wondered what he intended to do, for it was now evident that his presence on the river had a definite purpose. Ten or fifteen minutes passed, yet the man made no sign or movement, and I was getting somewhat impatient, when he rose to his feet, and, turning round, dragged a log of wood from under the bushes, silently launching it into the water. As he did so, I saw that he had a revolver slung around his neck. "Begorra! He's going to cross. Shall the b'yes give him a volley?" "No, no! Let him come, and we will capture him. Pass the word for no one to fire."
As I uttered the words the Confederate placed himself astride of the log, and plunged boldly into the stream. It was evidently an old experience, for the fellow guided his log so adroitly that the current was carrying him straight towards our position. As he neared the pile of drift-wood, the daring voyager shifted his right leg off the log, and, sitting sideways, made a sudden leap for the landing. So accurately had he judged his distance, that as he abandoned the log he was able to scramble up among the loose chips and sticks forming the debris, soon rising to his feet. "Surrender, sir. You're my prisoner!" Like a startled deer he turned before I could lay hands on him. And with a jeering laugh leaped lightly into the river. "Fire!" I shouted. But he reached the shore and waved his hand derisively, and then disappeared among the trees.
"I don't see how we missed hitting him. There must have been twenty bullets sent after him." "You all fired too hastily, and he was going with the current." The incident caused considerable excitement among the sentries, each man offering his own explanation; but I was convinced in my own mind that we had missed a scout who was endeavoring to get through our lines.
The following day, word came along the chain of sentinels that Lt. M wished to see me. On joining him, I found the young officer much excited. "Do you know that the corps has broken camp and marched away?" he exclaimed as soon as we met. "Impossible! They would not go away without recalling us." "But they have, though. And all the pickets on my left are gone too." "Indeed! How did you find out all this?" "Why, I got out of coffee, and sent one of my men to camp for more. He came back, saying the troops had all disappeared. He also discovered the absence of the pickets down the river." "This is a fine fix. Tell your sergeants to keep a sharp lookout while we go and see the officer on the right."… [It became] quite evident that through some blunder or accident we had been overlooked and forgotten. The question was, what were we to do?...
[They find a horse evidently meant for the scout.] An hour later I was riding through our deserted camp, finding that the corps had indeed abandoned us. The fires were all dead and cold, so the column must have moved the previous day, if not before. My course was therefore clear: we must follow and endeavor to overtake the main body. Strictly speaking, I ought to remain until recalled; but I knew that it would be ridiculous under the circumstances.
[They march two days to a crossroad that gives no clear indication of which direction the army took.] "There's cavalry coming." … "Form behind that fence, and see that every musket is ready. Courage, boys! We may have to fight: if so, we must give a good account of ourselves." The cloud of dust raised by the advancing cavalry came nearer and nearer. The moment that was to decide our fate was almost at hand…. By this time the column had discovered our presence; for it halted, and threw out a few troops to reconnoiter. Scarcely had these men emerged from the cloud of dust that enveloped the main force, when I discovered they were Federals. Immensely relieved, I rode out on the road, and hailed them. "Who are you?" shouted a sergeant as he unslung his carbine. "Union troops, trying to find the army." The sergeant wheeled his horse, and, followed by his comrades, galloped back to the column. In a few minutes the entire body of horsemen advanced, and I saw there were three or four squadrons. "How came you so far in the rear?" "We belong to the Fifth Corps, and were left on the picket-line." "By Jove! This is a lucky meeting. Why, we were coming after you! The mistake was only discovered to-day."

Bullet and Shell: The Civil War as the Soldier Saw It
George F Williams, 1884

 

[Peace Society]

Chattanooga, Oct. 3, 1863
The two armies are lying face to face. The Federal and Confederate sentinels walk their beats in sight of each other. The quarters of the rebel generals may be seen from our camps with the naked eye. The tents of their troops dot the hillsides. To-night we see their signal lights off to the right on the summit of Lookout mountain, and off to the left on the knobs of Mission ridge. Their long lines of camp fires almost encompass us. But the camp fires of the Army of the Cumberland are burning also. Bruised and torn by a two days' unequal contest, its flags are still up, and its men still unwhipped. It has taken its position here, and here, by God's help, it will remain.

Oct. 4
Captain Johnson, of General Negley's staff, has just been in, and tells me the pickets of the two armies are growing quite intimate, sitting about on logs together, talking over the great battle, and exchanging views as to the results of a future engagement.

Oct. 7
Visited the picket line this afternoon. A rebel line officer came to within a few rods of our picket station, to exchange papers, and stood and chatted for some time with the Federal officer. There appears to be a perfect understanding that neither party shall fire unless an advance is made in force.

John Beatty, BG
The Citizen-Soldier: The Memoirs of a Civil War Volunteer, 1879
Available from Bison Books, U of NE Press, Lincoln, 1998

 

[Peace Society]

Lebanon, MO
Feb. 4, 1864

My last was broken off rather abruptly because I was detailed to go on picket duty. There is a double row of pickets all the way round this camp. so you can judge of the duty we are required to perform. The inner camp is about twelve miles round. Our squad went out about three miles and camped. We were well provided with cartridges, etc., but had but two hard crackers for twenty-four hours. I was put on the first relief, and as soon as relieved I went with two other men in pursuit of something to eat. Of course we were not allowed to fire a gun, nor could we run down a Missouri hog. We were not foolhardy enough to attempt this, either. I would as soon think of running down a wild horse. I presume you have had little experience with the four-footed sort of animals; you only know the bipeds, and so cannot understand my description of these four-footed Missourians. Why, the sun almost shines through one of them, they are so fearfully thin, and all the boys declare that it takes three of them alongside to make a shadow.
But when the sun went down, three or four suspicious-looking personages might have been seen loitering near the hen-roost of a neighboring plantation. I sh'n't tell you what they did; but whatever the preliminaries were, they were speedily arranged, and before morning the savory smell plainly indicated that somebody had been frying chickens. We were not careful enough, and the feathers betrayed us when the colonel was making the grand round.
I have been again detailed to go out on picket with my company. Our beat extended a mile and a half across a cold and desolate prairie, and cold rain began to fall as soon as we went on guard - characteristic of my luck. It continued to rain and freeze until three o'clock in the morning, and then snowed until we were relieved, at one o'clock next day. We had hardly got back to camp, encased in ice, when the sun burst out in all its splendor. I confess we were a little downhearted when we found only hard crackers. This country is desolate as Sahara.
S. P. S.

Letter quoted in
My Story of the War: a Woman's Narrative or Four Years Personal Experience
Mary A Livermore, 1887, p. 647-9
[New intro by Nina Silber, Da Capo Press, NY, 1995]

 

[Peace Society]

HQ 20 IN, 2 Corps, Birney's Div.
June 8, 1864

One biting cold morning last winter, when the armies of Meade and Lee were drawn up on opposite sides of a little rivulet, all strung to so high a tension that moments seemed hours, and hours days, the deadly strife was so near at hand, a solitary sheep walked leisurely along the bank of the stream, on the rebel side. A rebel vedette fired and killed the sheep, and, dropping his gun, he rushed forward to secure his prize. In an instant he was covered by a gun in the hands of a Union vedette, who said, in a tone that carried conviction with it, "Divide is the word, or you are a dead Johnny!" "Johnny Reb" assented to the proposition, and there, between the two skirmish lines, the rebel soldier skinned the sheep, took half of it, moved back to his post, and resumed his musket. His challenger in turn dropped his gun, crossed the rivulet, lifted to his shoulder the other half of the sheep, waded back to his line, resumed his gun and the duties of his position amid the hearty cheers of his comrades, who expected to help him eat it.
…
I have been having a talk with rebel pickets in front. They will trade anything for coffee and sugar, will take greenbacks for tobacco, but decline rebel money, which our boys have taken from their dead. They ask why we do not send back to the South the five thousand Confederate soldiers who have remained in the hospitals in and about Gettysburg, and who are now convalescent. I asked them how they knew this. Their answer was, "We learned by grapevine telegraph." The truth is, these rebels have asked not to be sent South, as they will again be forced into the ranks. The pickets express great admiration for General McClellan. They say, "If the South could vote, they would make McClellan President."
E .G.

Letter quoted in
My Story of the War: a Woman's Narrative or Four Years Personal Experience
Mary A Livermore, 1887, p. 679-80
[New intro by Nina Silber, Da Capo Press, NY, 1995]

 

[Peace Society]

Thank you @Reporting History for today's news: June 5 1861 The Murders of Our Pickets

Today's News: June 5, 1861 – The Murders of Our Pickets | Civil War Potpourri

Evening Star, Washington, DC It is undoubtedly the understanding among the people residing in the neighborhood of the pickets of Gen. McDowell's command and the line of pickets of the disunionists in Gen. McD.'s immediate vicinity, that the nightly attempts being made to murder the U. S. picket...

civilwartalk.com

 

[Peace Society]

Four Mile Run [VA], Oct. 13, 1861
I am out on picket duty, about one mile and a half from the Fort. The whole army has advanced, and we are now alone. There are three of us out here under charge of a corporal, and will remain during the week, when we will be relieved. We got some boards and have made us quite a shanty, covered with our rubber blankets to make it waterproof. Our duty is to examine passes, and is not very dangerous, but we have to be up night and day; two hours on and four hours off.
p. 38-39

Four Brothers in Blue
Captain Robert Goldthwaite Carter
1913
Available from U of TX Press 1978

 

[Grim Sentinels Research]

"...there are so many things that are strange and attractive, to be seen and heard, when one is standing alone on picket, away out in some lonesome place, in the middle of the night. I think that a man who has never spent some wakeful hours in the night, by himself, out in the woods, has simply missed one of the most interesting parts of life."

@peacethank you for all of these posts. This resonated deeply with me & pulled me in faster than all the others and they're all great reads. Some of these made me miss the Army immensely.

 

[13 IL Cav & 64 GA Inf]

The Perilous Picket Post

Warning: incidents may be glad or sad.

(stumps)


Standing Picket on the Potomac
1 TN, Co H
Near Bath, winter 1862

While I was peering through the darkness, my eyes suddenly fell upon the outlines of a man. The more I looked the more I was convinced that it was a Yankee picket. I could see his hat and coat - yes, see his gun. I was sure that it was a Yankee picket. What was I to do? The relief was several hundred yards in the rear. The more I looked the more sure I was. At last a cold sweat broke out all over my body. Turkey bumps rose. I summoned all the nerves and bravery that I could command, and said: "Halt! who goes there?" There being no response, I became resolute. I did not wish to fire and arouse the camp, but I marched right up to it and stuck my bayonet through and through it. It was a stump.

1861 vs. 1882: "Co. Aytch," Maury Grays, First Tennessee Regiment
Samuel R Watkins, 1882

"Co. Aytch": A Side Show of the Big Show; Macmillan Publ. Co., 1962
Co. Aytch: A Confederate Memoir of the Civil War; Simon & Shuster; 1990




Western Virginia
3 OH
July 21, 1861

The sound of a musket is just heard on the picket post, three-quarters of a mile away, and the shot is being repeated by our line of sentinels. *** The whole camp has been in an uproar. Many men, half asleep, rushed from their tents and fired off their guns in their company grounds. Others, supposing the enemy near, became excited and discharged theirs also. The tents were struck, Loomis' First Michigan Battery manned, and we awaited the attack, but none was made. It was a false alarm. Some sentinel probably halted a stump and fired, thus rousing a thousand men from their warm beds.


Western Virginia
3 OH
August 24, 1861

Last night a sentinel on one of the picket posts halted a stump and demanded the countersign. No response being made, he fired. The entire Fifteenth Indiana sprang to arms; the cannoniers gathered about their guns, and a thousand eyes peered into the darkness to get a glimpse of the approaching enemy. But the stump, evidently intimidated by the first shot, did not advance, and so the Hoosiers returned again to their couches ….



The Citizen-Soldier; or, Memoirs of a Volunteer
John Beatty
Wilsatch, Baldwin & Co., Cincinnati, 1879, p. 33, 64.

Time-Life Books; Alexandria, Va.; 1983
U of Neb. Press; Lincoln & London; 1998




(cows)

Western Virginia
3 OH
July 21, 1861

This morning, at two o'clock, I was rattled up by a sentinel, who had come to camp in hot haste to inform me that he had seen and fired upon a body of twenty-five or more men, probably the advance guard of the enemy. He desired me to send two companies to strengthen the outpost. I preferred, however, to go myself to the scene of the trouble; and, after investigation, concluded that the guard had been alarmed by a couple of cows.

The Citizen-Soldier; or, Memoirs of a Volunteer
John Beatty
Wilsatch, Baldwin & Co., Cincinnati, 1879, p. 33.

Time-Life Books; Alexandria, Va.; 1983
U of Neb. Press; Lincoln & London; 1998


(pigs)

1 MN, Army of the Potomac
Fredericksburg
Nov. 4, 1862

A nice pig generously introduces himself to the guard & is accepted as a martyr to the cause of the Union.

Isaac Lyman Taylor

Quoted in The Last Full Measure: The Life and Death of the First Minnesota Volunteers
Richard Moe; Henry Holt & Co, NY; 1993, p. 203






(frozen)

1 TN, Co H
Hampshire Crossing, winter 1862

… our regiment was ordered to go to a little stream called St. John's Run, to relieve the 14th​ Georgia Regiment and the 3rd Arkansas. I cannot tell the facts as I desire to. In fact, my hand trembles so, and my feelings are so overcome, that it is hard for me to write at all. But we went to the place that we were ordered to go to, and when we arrived there we found the guard sure enough. If I remember correctly there were just eleven of them. Some were sitting down and some were laying down; but each and every one was as cold and as hard frozen as the icicles that hung from their hands and faces and clothing - dead! They had died at their post of duty. Two of them, a little in advance of the others, were standing with their guns in their hands, as cold and as hard frozen as monument of marble - standing sentinel with loaded guns in their frozen hands!

Sometime 1864
Near Atlanta

I remember going to an old citizen's house… The first time that I went there they seemed very glad to see me, and told me that I looked exactly like their son who was in the army. I asked them what regiment he belonged to. After a moment's silence the old lady, her voice trembling as she spoke, said the Fourteenth Georgia, and then she began to cry. Then the old man said, "Yes, we have a son in the army. He went to Virginia the first year of the war, and we have never heard of him since. These wars are terrible, sir. The last time that we heard of him, he went with Stonewall Jackson away up in the mountains of West Virginia, toward Romney, and I did hear that while standing picket at a little place called Hampshire Crossing on a little stream called St. John's Run, he and eleven others froze to death. We have never heard of him since." …

1861 vs. 1882: "Co. Aytch," Maury Grays, First Tennessee Regiment
Samuel R Watkins, 1882

"Co. Aytch": A Side Show of the Big Show; Macmillan Publ. Co., 1962
Co. Aytch: A Confederate Memoir of the Civil War; Simon & Shuster; 1990






(enemy encounters)

1 TN Co H
Murfreesboro, December 1862

Our army stopped at Murfreesboro. Our advanced outpost was established at Lavergne. From time to time different regiments were sent forward to do picket duty. I was on picket at the time the advance was made by Rosecrans. At the time mentioned, I was standing about two hundred yards off the road, the main body of the pickets being on the Nashville and Murfreesboro turnpike, and commanded by Lieutenant Hardy Murfree, of the Rutherford Rifles.

I had orders to allow no one to pass. In fact, no one was expected to pass at this point, but while standing at my post, a horseman rode up behind me. I halted him, and told him to go down to the main picket on the road and pass, but he seemed so smiling that I thought he knew me, or had a good joke to tell me. He advanced up, and pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, handed it to me to read. It was an order from General Leonidas Polk to allow the bearer to pass. I read it, and looked up to hand it back to him, when I discovered that he had a pistol cocked and leveled in my face., and says he, "Drop that gun; you are my prisoner." I say there was no use in fooling about it. I knew if I resisted he would shoot me, and I thought then that he was about to perform that detestable operation. I dropped the gun.

I did not wish to spend my winter in a Northern prison, and what was worse, I would be called a deserter from my post of duty.

The Yankee picket lines were not a half mile off. I was perfectly willing to let the spy go on his way rejoicing - for such he was - but he wanted to capture a Rebel.

And I had made up my mind to think likewise. There I was, a prisoner sure, and no mistake about it.

His pistol was leveled, and I was ordered to march. I was afraid to halloo to the relief, and you may be sure I was in a bad fix.

Finally says I, "Let's play quits. I think you are a soldier; you look like a gentleman. I am a videt; you know the responsibility resting on me. You go your way, and leave me here. Is it a bargain?"

Says he, "I would not trust a Secesh on his word, oath, or bond. March, I say."

I soon found out that he had caught sight of the relief on the road, and was afraid to shoot. I quickly made up my mind. My gun was at my feet, and one step would get it. I made a quick glance over my shoulder, and grabbed at my gun. He divined my motive, and fired. The ball missed its aim. He puts spurs to his horse, but I pulled down on him, and almost tore the fore shoulder of his horse entirely off, but I did not capture the spy, though I captured the horse, bridle and saddle. Major Allen of the Twenty-seventh Tennessee Regiment, took the saddle and bridle, and gave me the blanket. I remembered the blanket had the picture of a "big lion" on it, and it was almost new. When we fell back, as the Yankee sharpshooters advanced, we left the poor old horse nipping the short, dry grass. I saw a Yankee skirmisher run up and grab the horse and give a whoop as if he had captured a Rebel horse. But they continued to advance upon us, we firing and retreating slowly.


1861 vs. 1882: "Co. Aytch," Maury Grays, First Tennessee Regiment
Samuel R Watkins, 1882

"Co. Aytch": A Side Show of the Big Show; Macmillan Publ. Co., 1962
Co. Aytch: A Confederate Memoir of the Civil War; Simon & Shuster; 1990

Excellent post.

 

[Peace Society]

Trying to deliver a note under flag of truce around Petersburg:

We crossed the rail near Colonel Avery's, rode into the woods and immediately came on the picket reserves of cavalry, where we got a man to guide us to the extreme left of the infantry picket line. We floundered through a little swampy run, brushed through some brush, and came on a little clearing, at the other side of which was a gentleman, with a cocked musket, eyeing us suspiciously, but who withdrew on seeing our color. There we came on what is always a pretty sight, a picket line in a wood. The men are dotted along, ten or fifteen feet apart, with stronger parties on the roads; and you see them indistinctly, as they stand, half-hidden among trees and bushes.
…
I told the bugler to blow a parley… the effect of the bugle was most marvelous - quite as when "he whistled shrill and he was answered from the hill." In an instant, a line of some seventy-five men rose, as if out of the ground. It was their pickets, who had been concealed in little holes, dug in the slope of the gentle hill.
…
a Staff officer… brought a message that we should immediately retire from the lines, and hostilities would then recommence, till the answer was ready, when they would put a white flat on their rifle-pit. This amused me, for I had already seen all that could be seen and knew just where their position was just at that point!

Theodore Lyman, letter to wife, June 19, 1864
Meade's HQ, p. 171-172.

 

[Aaron Vinson]

Recollections of War Times - William Augustus McClendon, Co. G, 15th Al P. 191 - 193
One of our post was a half mile below our camp and below where the converging streams came together. The Yankees had their picket post opposite ours and by mutual agreement between the pickets, there was no firing done at each other across the river. It became my duty one morning to have to carry our pickets their day's rations to them. I wended my way along an unobserved narrow path at the foot of Raccoon Mountain, until I reached the place where the boys were on post. It was my first visit down there, and I could not help feeling a little shy, not knowing but what I would be shot at from across the river if I was seen. There were five on post, four privates and a Sergeant, all from my company. After delivering the rations and looking around awhile I started back to camp. I had a splendid Enfield rifle with plenty of ammunition, and I was anxious to try it. When I reached an abrupt declivity in the mountain I ascended by going from rock to rock, until I reached a place where I could overlook the whole of the Yankee camp on the other side. I took position behind a large rock that completely hid me from the Yankees only when I would peep around to see what they were doing. There was their camp in full view, their tents up, and squads of them in different places standing around a log fire. It was rather cold that morning and it looked to me that they were enjoying the warm., barring the smoke. All old soldiers who reads this well knows what it was to be smoked. I sat there watching their movements some time wanting to fire on them, but I was afraid, fearful that it would be a violation of orders. They were about five hundred yards distant, and my gun was amply effective that distance, and I at last decided to try them. I selected a squad that was standing around a fire as my first target. I was considerably above them, and I had a fair shot. At the crack of my gun there was old hustling to get away, and go into their tents which hid them from view. When I would shoot the smoke of my gun would be so dense until I could not see whether I had made a hit or not. After each round I would fall back in the crevice of the rock, and reload. I enjoyed it so well until I became so bold as to hollow, "Look out!" and then fire and fall back behind the rock and reload. I repeated this half dozen times, and it finally got so that I could not see a Yankee nowhere. The Yankee pickets down opposite ours made complaint to our pickets, and told them if they didn't have that firing to cease, they would open on them. They didn't know what it meant, and our Sergeant told them that it was a fool that was shooting and was always doing something he had no business to do. There was a Yankee that kept blowing a horn, and it sounded to me that it was a signal station, his sounds were peculiar, and would be answered by the same sort from the direction of Chattanooga. I looked for him in the trees of the other side, and if I had found him I was going to try to topple him out. I discovered where the headquarters were, and I directed a few at the tent. I had not fired many rounds before they discovered my position, and occasionally they would throw a shower of balls against the rocks near my position. As a blind, our sergeant burst in a rage with oaths at me, and told the Yankees to "Kill him if they could, he couldn't stop him." That was all right for him to say so, as it kept the fire off of him, we laughed about it afterwards one of the balls that they shot at me struck the rock above me, and fell down near where I picked it up. It was mashed flat, and pretty warm. I became alarmed in my feelings when the thought struck me as to how to get away from there; I was in constant dread that they would bring their cannon to bear upon my position, and batter down my shield and expose me to view to their sharpshooters. I imagined that for once I was in a precarious position. It was time I was at my company; now what shall I do? I can't undertake to go down right now, for my position is known, and they may be watching for me to come out. All these things flitted through my mind, and I finally decided to keep hid and be quiet for an hour or two, and it may be that they would cease their vigilance and that I could descend unobserved. After waiting two hours, I ventured out and began the perilous task of making my escape. I succeeded beyond my expectation, for not a single shot was fired at me, and I returned to my company all OK. This was October and the nights were cool, with frosty mornings, but we had plenty covering to keep us comfortable. Each company of the regiment had its particular place to camp and was well supplied with small tent flies, gum cloths, and blankets that was picked up on the battle-field of Chickamauga, where they were thrown away by the fleeing Yankees. Each company was sent alternately on picket to guard the river front, each remaining twenty-four hours.


Also from the 15th on Oct 26, 1863

Some Events and Incidents During the Civil War - William Cristopher Jordan, Co. B, 15th Al P. 56 - 57
"We had about half the regiment in picket on the river, out picket line about ten miles long, from three to five men at a post, at intervals of two hundred to four hundred yards apart. The post that myself and two others were watching, as we only had three guns, on picket was Brown's old Ferry, three miles below Chattanooga, a very important position.... When I was on picket we had become quiet and comparatively friendly, and would talk to each other across the river. One evening a negro came to me, sent from home, and brought me some provisions, and clothing; we had a little cabin on the bank of the river to cook and sleep in, had mad a pot of lye hominy that day, the day that Frank, the negro, came to me.
Frank brought me a turkey, ham, some biscuit, eggs and cake; also a large bed spread that my mother gave me when I went to keeping house; my wife sent it to me as she could not get a blanket suitable; she also sent me securely in the basket a bottle of muscadine brandy. The above articles enumerated Frank brought to me that evening, and left the balance south of Lookout Mountain with our quarter master. Frank stayed the night before with the 45th Alabama on Missionary Ridge, with a copy from my neighborhood, consequently there was not a drop of brandy left in the bottle, though well corked and tied in the basket. My good friends and neighbors in the 45th Alabama had emptied it no doubt with a quill. I told Frank that evening that this was no place for him, to go back to the quarter-master and stay there until ordered otherwise. We were quite friendly and communicative with the Federals that evening. Our boys would tease them about hardtacks, and they would guy us about corndodger. I stepped out with a pan of eggs and told them to come over that we had everything that heart could wish, took my empty bottle and handed it around to the boys, all went through the blank motion as of drinking. One Yank says "I believe that fellow has got spirits." I heard what he said, and told him to come over, said he would next morning, and exchange papers and swap coffee for tobacco, if his colonel would let him, provided we would not take him prisoner. We told him that we would deal fairly and honorably with him." End of picket story

 

[Peace Society]

Late August 1863 on the Rappahannock 17 VA
Black Horse Cavalry facing 2 MI Cavalry

Orders were given to be prepared to go on picket early in the morning; and until a late hour the men were busy cooking rations and cleaning equipments.
Before the mists had been chased by the rising sun, the company in close column of fours marched down the road. Men and animals were in perfect condition, brimful of mettle and in buoyant spirits.
The route lay along the banks of the river, upon the winding course of which, after several hours' riding, the regiment reached its destination and relieved the various pickets. A sergeant and squad of men were left at each post, the company being spread out several miles on the river banks to act as videttes, whose duty it was to watch the enemy on the other side of the Rappahannock.
The next day our squad, Sergeant Joe Reid in command, sauntered down the bank, but seeing no one we lay at length under the spreading trees … The Rappahannock ,which was at this place about two hundred yards wide, flowing slowly oceanward, its bosom reflecting the roseate-hued morn, was as lovely a body of water as the sun ever shone upon. The sound of the gentle ripple of its waves upon the sand was broken by a faint "halloo" which came from the other side.
"Johnny Reb, I say, J-o-h-n-n-y R-e-b, don't shoot!"
Joe Reid shouted back, "All right!" …
"Have you any tobacco?"
"Plenty of it," went our reply
"Any sugar and coffee?" they questioned.
"Not a taste nor a smell."
"Let's trade" …
"We have not much with us, but we will send to Fredericksburg for more, so meet us here this evening." …
"Say, Johnny, want some newspapers?"
"Y-e-s!" …
The Rebs watched the group upon the other side curiously, wondering how even Yankee ingenuity could devise a way for sending a batch of papers across the river two hundred yards wide …
"Here they come!" and then in a tone of intense admiration, "I'll be doggoned if these Yanks are not the smartest people in the world."
On the other side were several miniature boats and ships - such as schoolboys delight in - with sails set; the gentle breeze impelled the little crafts across the river, each freighted with a couple of newspapers. … in a few minutes had accomplished their voyage and were drawn up to await a favorable wind to waft them back.
Drawing lots, Joe Boteler, who found luck against him, started to town, with a muttered curse, to buy tobacco, leaving his comrades to seek some shady spot, and … sink deep in the latest war news from the enemy's standpoint, always interesting reading.
It was a cloudless day, - a day to dream, - and with a lazy sans souci manner and half-shut eyes, enjoy to the soul the deep loveliness of the scene which lay around us like some fair creation of the fancy, listening the while to the trills of the blue-bird which sat on the top of a lofty tree industriously practicing his notes like a prima donna getting a new opera by heart.
Joe returned in the evening with a box of plug tobacco about a foot square; but how to get it across was the question. The miniature boats could not carry it, and we shouted over to the Yanks that we had about twenty pounds of cut plug, and asked them what we must do? They hallooed back to let one of us swim across, and declared that it was perfectly safe. We held a council of war, and it was found that none of the Black Horse could swim beyond a few rods. Then I volunteered. Having lived on the banks of the Potomac most of my life, I was necessarily a swimmer.
Sergeant Reid went to a house not far off and borrowed a bread trough, and placing it on a plank, the box of tobacco was shipped, and disrobing I started, pushing my queer craft in front of me. As I approached the shore the news of my coming had reached camp, and nearly all the Second Michigan were lined up along the bank.
I felt a little queer, but I had perfect faith in their promise and kept on without missing a stroke until my miniature scow grounded on the beach. The blue-coats crowded around me and gave me a hearty welcome, and relieving the trough of its load, heaped the craft with offerings of sugar, coffee, lemons, and even candy, till I cried out that they would sink my transport. I am sure they would have filled a rowboat to the gunwhale had I brought one.
There was no chaffing or banter, only roistering welcomes.
Bidding my friends the enemy good-by, I swam back with the precious cargo, and we had a feast that night.

Alexander Hunter, Johnny Reb and Billy Yank, 1905

 

[Peace Society]

Chattanooga TN Sept. 1863
Hood's Texas Brigade

General Jenkins … announced that at midnight the picket line would be expected to advance and drive the Yankees to the other side of the creek. … resolving ourselves into a council of war with plenary powers, it was unanimously decided by the three privates there assembled that … if a single shot were fired at us by the enemy, we three would just lie down and let General Jenkins of South Carolina do his own advancing and driving. Being veterans, we knew far better than he how easy it was at night for opposing lines to intermingle with each other and men to mistake friends for enemies, and we did not propose to sanction the taking of such chances. … if the line of the creek was worth capturing by us, it surely was worth holding by the Yankees. But all was silent and still, no sight of foe… [The three] held themselves erect and advanced side by side with their gallant comrades until the terra incognita and impenetrability of the narrow but timbered valley of the stream suggested ambush and the advisability of rifle-pits. Working at these with a will born of emergency, we managed to complete them just as the day dawned, and jumping into them with a sigh of inexpressible relief - our courage rising as the night fled - waited for hostilities to begin. But the Yankees had outwitted us, their withdrawal, by some strange coincidence, having been practically simultaneous with our advance …

Joseph B. Polley, A Soldier's Letters to Charming Nellie, 1908

 

[Peace Society]

Chattanooga TN Sept. 1863
Hood's Texas Brigade

…a truce along the picket lines in front of the Texans was arranged, that is, there was to be no more shooting at each other's pickets - the little killing and wounding done by the practice never compensating for the powder and shot expended, and the discomfort of being always on the alert, night and day.

But the South Carolinians, whose picket line began at our left, their first rifle-pit being within fifty feet of the last one of the First Texas, could make no terms, whatever. The Federals charge them with being the instigators and beginners of the war, and, as I am informed, always exclude them from the benefit of truces between the pickets. It is certainly an odd spectacle to see the Carolinians hiding in their rifle pits and not daring to show their head, while, not fifty feet away, the Texans sit on the ground playing poker, in plain view and within a hundred yards of the Yankees. Worse than all, the palmetto fellows are not even permitted to visit us in daylight, except in disguise - their new uniforms of gray always betraying them wherever they go. One of them who is not only very fond of, but successful at, the game of poker, concluded the other day to risk being shot for the chance of winning the money of the First Texas, and, divesting himself of his coat, slipped over to the Texas pit an hour before daylight, and by sunrise was giving his whole mind to the noble pastime.

An hour later a keen-sighted Yankee sang out, "Say, you Texas Johnnies! Ain't that fellow playing cards, with his back to a sapling, one of them d----d South Carolina secessionists? Seems to me his breeches are newer 'n they ought to be." This direct appeal for information placed the Texans between the horns of dilemma; hospitality demanded the protection of their guest - prudence, the observance of good faith toward the Yankees. The delay in answering obviated the necessity for it by confirming the inquirer's suspicions, and, exclaiming, "D--n him, I just know it is!" he raised his gun quickly and fired. The South Carolinian was too active, though; at the very first movement of the Yankee, he sprang ten feet and disappeared into a gulch that protected him from further assault.

Joseph B. Polley, A Soldier's Letters to Charming Nellie, 1908

 

[Peace Society]

Sickness makes a picket line lax:

A regiment which does picket-duty faithfully will often avoid the need of duties more terrible. Yet I have ridden by night along a chain of ten sentinels, every one of who should have taken my life rather than permit me to give the countersign without dismounting, and have been required to dismount by only four, while two did not ask me for the countersign at all, and two others were asleep.

Thomas Wentworth Higginson, 1 SC Colored, in Atlantic Monthly, Sept. 1864