MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA AND THE CARO LIN AS. 675

involved exposure and indefatigable exertion. Tosucceed, our forward movement liad to be con-tinuous, for even the most productive regionswould soon be exhausted by our 60,000 men andmore, and 13,000 animals.

Although we were fully prepared, with our greattrains of ammunition, to fight a pitched battle, ourmission was not to fight, but to consume and destroy.Our inability to care properly for the wounded,who must necessarily be carried along painfully injolting ambulances to die on the way from exhaus-tion and exposure, was an additional and veryserious reason for avoiding collision with theenemy. But where he could not be evaded, hisvery presence across our path increased the ve-locity of our flying column. We repelled him by adecisive blow and without losing our momentum.

The beginning of our march in South Carolina was pleasant, the weather favorable, and thecountry productive. Sometimes at the middayhalt a stray pig that had cunningly evaded theforagers would venture forth in the belief of hav-ing escaped “the cruel war,” and would find hiserror, alas! too late, by encountering our column.Instantly an armed mob would set upon him, andhis piercing shrieks would melt away in thescramble for fresh pork. But the midday sport ofthe main column and the happy life of the foragerwere sadly interrupted. The sun grew dim, and therain came and continued. A few of our excellentforagers were reported captured by Wheeler’s cav-alry, while we sank deeper and deeper in the mudas we approached the Salkehatchie Swamp, ■whichlay between us and the Charleston and Augustarailroad. As the heads of column came up, eachcommand knew what it had to do. Generals Mowerand <x. A. Smith got their divisions across byswimming, wading, and floating, and effectedlodgments in spite of the enemy’s fire. An over-whelming mass of drenched and muddy veteransswept away the enemy, while the rest of our forcegot the trains and artillery over by corduroying,pontooning, and bridging. It seemed a grand day’swork to have accomplished, as we sank down thatnight in our miry bivouac. The gallant GeneralWager Swayne lost his leg in this Salkehatchie en-counter. Luckily for him and others we were notyet too far from our friends to send the woundedback, with a strong escort, to Pocotaligo.

We destroyed about forty miles of the Charleston and Augusta railroad, and, by threatening pointsbeyond the route we intended to take, we deludedthe enemy into concentrating at Augusta and otherplaces, while we marched rapidly away, leaving himwell behind, and nothing but Wade Hampton’s cav-alry, and the more formidable obstacle of the SaludaRiver and its swamps, between us and Columbia,our next objective. As the route of our columnlay west of Columbia, I saw nothing of the oft-de-scribed and much-discussed burning of that city.

During the hasty removal of the Union prisonersfrom Columbia two Massachusetts officers managedto make their escape. Exhausted and almostnaked, they found their way to my command. Mymess begged for the privilege of caring for one ofthem. We gave him a mule to ride with a com-

fortable saddle, and scraped together an outfit forhim, although our clothes were in the last stages.Our guest found the mess luxurious, as he sat downwith us at the edge of a rubber blanket spreadupon the ground for a table-cloth, and set with tincups and platters. Stewed fighting-cock and bitsof fried turkey were followed by fried corn-mealand sorghum. Then came our coffee and pipes,and we lay down by a roaring fire of pine-knots,to hear our guest’s story of life in a rebel prison.Before daybreak the tramp of horses reminded usthat our foragers were sallying forth. The red lightfrom the countless camp-fires melted away as thedawn stole over the horizon, casting its wonderfulgradations of light and color over the masses ofsleeping soldiers, while the smoke from burningpine-knots befogged the chilly morning air. Thenthe bugles broke the impressive stillness, and theroll of drums was heard on all sides. Soon the scenewas alive with blue coats and the hubbub of roll-calling, cooking, and running for water to thenearest spring or stream. The surgeons lookedto the sick and footsore, and weeded from the am-bulances those who no longer needed to ride.

It was not uncommon to hear shots at the headof the column. The foragers would come tum-bling back, and ride alongside the regiment, addingto the noisy talk their account of what they hadseen, and dividing among their comrades suchthings as they had managed to bring away in theirnarrow escape from capture. A staff-officer wouldgallop down the roadside like a man who had for-gotten something wdiicli must be recovered in ahurry. At the sound of the colonel’s ringing voice,silence was instant and absolute. Sabers flashedfrom their scabbards, the men brought their gunsto the “carry,” and the battalion swung into lineat the roadside ; cats, fighting-cocks, and frying-panspassed to the rear rank; officers and sergeantsbuzzed round their companies to see that the gunswere loaded and the men ready for action. Thecolor-sergeant loosened the water-proof cover ofthe battle-flag, a battery of artillery flew past on itsway to the front, following the returning staff-offi-cer, and we soon heard the familiar bang of shells.Perhaps it did not amount to much after all, andwe were soon swinging into “route step” again.

At times when suffering from thirst it was hardto resist the temptation of crystal swamp water,as it rippled along the side of a causeway, a tempt-ing sight for the weary and unwary. In spite ofoft-repeated cautions, some contrived to drink it,but these were on their backs with malarial dis-ease at the end of the campaign, if not sooner.

After passing Columbia there was a brief seasonof famine. The foragers worked hard, but foundnothing. They made amends, however, in a dayor two, bringing in the familiar corn-meal, sweet-potatoes, and bacon.

We marched into Cheraw with music and withcolors flying. Stacking arms in the main street,we proceeded to supper, while the engineers laidthe pontoons across the Pedee River. The railingof the town pump, and the remains of a buggy, saidto belong to Mr. Lincoln’s brother-in-law, Dr. Todd,were quickly reduced to kindling-wood to boil the