As we marched out of the stockade that evening in the darkness, - TopicsExpress



          

As we marched out of the stockade that evening in the darkness, between 8 and 9 o’clock, we found ourselves prisoners of war surrounded by a howling mob of Confederates, who unceremoniously relieved us of our watches, etc., and made all kinds of one sided trades for our clothing, hats, caps, boots, and shoes, and would not allow us to return to our quarters for our knapsacks, haversacks, blankets, or other belongings. At the time the Johnnies were robbing us of our effects they found me rather poorly clad, for I had not drawn any thing since leaving Vicksburg, over six months before, and my pantaloons and blouse were quite threadbare, besides being considerably soiled. These they did not appear to want, but I had on a very good black felt army hat which seemed attractive to them, and I had not taken more than one step out of the opening leading from the stockade when a Johnnie about six feet tall, with long sandy hair, said: “Say, you young Yank, you have got a purdy good hat,” and with that jerked it from my head and handed me his old quilted cloth one instead. I had no more than got this old quilted rag placed on my head when another Johnnie stepped up to me and said: “Yank, let’s trade hats,” and jerked mine off and handed me his old broken-billed gray cap, and before I had gone ten steps farther into the crowd another Johnnie said: “Yank, you have no business with a Confederate cap,” and, snatching it off my head, handed me his hat, saying, “Hayre, take one of yere un culler.” When I examined the old black and blue limp thing he handed me I found the crown was a piece of an old army overcoat which he had “whanged” on with cotton cord, and the limp black rim was looped up to this on all sides with the same kind of cord to hold it from falling down over his face. As no other Confederate seemed inclined to trade hats with me after this exchange, I concluded my youthful brow was now graced with the poorest makeshift of a hat Hood’s army could produce.” from "On Wheels, and How I came to get there" by W.B. Smith.
Posted on: Fri, 19 Jul 2013 15:04:11 +0000

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