wagons of old and decrepit people, who had been hunted and hounded from their homes with a relentless cruelty worse, yea, much worse—than ever blackened the pages of barbaric or savage history. I remember assisting in unloading our wagons that General Hood, poor fellow, had kindly sent in to bring out the citizens of Atlanta to a little place called Rough-and-Ready, about half way between Palmetto and Atlanta. Every day I would look on at the suffering of delicate ladies, old men, and mothers with little children clinging to them, and crying, "O, mamma, mamma," and old women, and tottering old men, whose gray hairs should have protected them from the savage acts of Yankee hate and Puritan barbarity; and I wondered how on earth our Generals, including those who had resigned—that is where the shoe pinches—could quietly look on at this dark, black, and damning insult to our people, and not use at least one effort to rescue them from such terrible and unmitigated cruelty, barbarity, and outrage. General Hood remonstrated with Sherman against the insult, stating that it "Transcended in studied and ingenious cruelty, all acts ever before brought to my attention in the dark history of war."
In the greatest crisis of the war, Hardee, Kirby Smith, Breckenridge, and many Brigadiers, resigned, thus throwing all the responsibility upon poor Hood.[1]
I desire to state that they left the army on account of rank. O, this thing of rank!
Many other Generals resigned, and left us privates in the lurch. But the gallant Cheatham, Cleburne, Granberry, Gist, Strahl, Adams, John C. Brown, William B. Bate, Stewart, Lowery, and others, stuck to us to the last.
The sinews of war were strained to their utmost tension.
A SCOUT.
At this place I was detailed as a regular scout, which posi-
- ↑ In the Southern army the question was, who ranked? Not who was the best General, or Colonel, or Captain—but “who ranked?” The article of rank finally got down to Corporals; and rank finally bursted the Government.
