My feet peeled off like a peeled onion on that march, and I have not recovered from its effects to this day. To hear the vivid accounts given in this book by a Company aytch directly under the command of my blood relative is exhilarating and very humbling.
Remaining here a few days, we commenced our march again. The snow came pelting down as large as goose eggs. The soldiers in the whole army got rebellious--almost mutinous--and would curse and abuse Stonewall Jackson; in fact, they called him "Fool Tom Jackson.
Two days afterwards I received notice to appear before a court-martial at nine. The tale is told. They had died at their post of duty.
Well, Pfifer had got the fat from the kidneys of two hind quarters and made a cake of tallow weighing about twenty-five pounds. His eyes blazed and looked like those of a tiger when he has just torn his victim limb from limb.
He looked at that rock with the death stare of a doomed man. Leaving Nashville, we went bowling along twenty or thirty miles an hour, as fast as steam could carry us. That night we came to Mingo Flats.
I was sure that it was a Yankee picket. I remember how sorry I felt for the poor fellows, because they had enlisted for the war, and we for only twelve months.
It is every word that we will say in behalf of the rights of secession in the following pages. I Company aytch not wish to fire and arouse the camp, but I marched right up to it and stuck my bayonet through and through it. Well, he began to preach the strange doctrine of there being such a thing.
But he suspected Schwartz. Everywhere the enemy were advancing; the red clouds of war were booming up everywhere, but at this particular epoch, I refer you to the history of that period.
It was they that did the shooting and killing, and if I could kill or wound a private, why, my chances were so much the better.
This is the way the grand old hero of a hundred battles looked. But when we came out we were as limp as dishrags. I have seen many beautiful and pretty women in my life, but she was the prettiest one I ever saw.
Well, reader, let me whisper in your ear. I always looked upon officers as harmless personages. I have now learned that this memoir is considered to be the or one Company aytch the best primary-source accounts of the private experience in the Civil War.
I saw soldiers running to their tents and grabbing their guns and cartridge-boxes and hurry out again, the drums still rolling and rattling.
Magnificent banquets were prepared for us all along the entire route. He was a fine- looking gentleman, and wore a moustache. We charged the bushes and saw the Yankees running through them, and we fired on them as they retreated.
This is the first sight we had of Stonewall Jackson, riding upon his old sorrel horse, his feet drawn up as if his stirrups were much too short for him, and his old dingy military cap hanging well forward over his head, and his nose erected in the air, his old rusty sabre rattling by his side.
The rain still poured. We went over the Allegheny Mountains. Elliott invited us to his college grove, where had been prepared enough of the good things of earth to gratify the tastes of the most fastidious epicure.
Before I could get on a fresh cap, Captain Field came running up with his seven-shooting rifle, and the first fire he killed a Yankee. We were about to bid farewell to every tender association that we had formed with the good people of Virginia, and to our old associates among the soldiers of the Grand Army of Virginia.
There we had to stay until our systems had had sufficient recuperation. While I was peering through the darkness, my eyes suddenly fell upon the outlines of a man.
It was the coldest winter known to the oldest inhabitant of these regions. His horse was standing nipping the grass, and when I saw that he was getting ready to start I ran and caught his horse and led him up to him.
I was twenty-one years old then, and at that time I was not married. His spirit is yonder with the blessed ones that have gone before, but his history is one that the country will ever be proud of, and his memory will be cherished and loved by the old soldiers who followed him through the war."Co.
Aytch" by Sam R. Watkins. Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5.
Back to Full BooksFull Books. Company Aytch: A Classic Memoir of the Civil War [Samuel R. Watkins, M. Thomas Inge] on mint-body.com *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers.
Among the plethora of books about the Civil War, Company Aytch stands out for its uniquely personal view of the events as related by a most engaging writer—a man with Twain-like talents who served as a foot soldier for four long years in the /5(88).
About Samuel R. Watkins. Samuel “Sam” Rush Watkins () was a Confederate soldier during the American Civil War.
He is known today for his memoir Company Aytch: Or, a Side Show of the Big Show, often heralded as one of the best primary sources. "Co. Aytch" by Sam R.
Watkins Part 1 out of 5. mint-body.com homepage; Index of "Co. Aytch" Next part (2) This eBook was produced by Ken Reeder PUBLISHER'S NOTICE.
EMBED (for mint-body.com hosted blogs and mint-body.com item tags)Pages: A classic Civil War memoir, Co. Aytch is the work of a natural storyteller who balances the horror of war with an irrepressible sense of humor and a sharp eye for the lighter side of battle.
It is a testament to one man’s enduring humanity, courage, and wisdom in the midst of death and destruction /5.Download