Co. Aytch - Maury Grays, First Tennessee Regiment | Page 5

college grove, where had been
prepared enough of the good things of earth to gratify the tastes of the
most fastidious epicure. And what was most novel, we were waited on
by the most beautiful young ladies (pupils of his school). It was
charming, I tell you. Rev. C. D. Elliott was our Brigade Chaplain all
through the war, and Dr. C. T. Quintard the Chaplain of the First
Tennessee Regiment-- two of the best men who ever lived. (Quintard is
the present Bishop of Tennessee).
ON THE ROAD
Leaving Nashville, we went bowling along twenty or thirty miles an
hour, as fast as steam could carry us. At every town and station citizens
and ladies were waving their handkerchiefs and hurrahing for Jeff
Davis and the Southern Confederacy. Magnificent banquets were
prepared for us all along the entire route. It was one magnificent
festival from one end of the line to the other. At Chattanooga,
Knoxville, Bristol, Farmville, Lynchburg, everywhere, the same
demonstrations of joy and welcome greeted us. Ah, those were glorious
times; and you, reader, see why the old soldier loves to live over again
that happy period.
But the Yankees are advancing on Manassas. July 21st finds us a
hundred miles from that fierce day's battle. That night, after the battle is
fought and won, our train draws up at Manassas Junction.
Well, what news? Everyone was wild, nay, frenzied with the
excitement of victory, and we felt very much like the "boy the calf had

run over." We felt that the war was over, and we would have to return
home without even seeing a Yankee soldier. Ah, how we envied those
that were wounded. We thought at that time that we would have given a
thousand dollars to have been in the battle, and to have had our arm
shot off, so we could have returned home with an empty sleeve. But the
battle was over, and we left out.
STAUNTON
From Manassas our train moved on to Staunton, Virginia. Here we
again went into camp, overhauled kettles, pots, buckets, jugs and tents,
and found everything so tangled up and mixed that we could not tell
tuther from which.
We stretched our tents, and the soldiers once again felt that restraint
and discipline which we had almost forgotten en route to this place. But,
as the war was over now, our captains, colonels and generals were not
"hard on the boys;" in fact, had begun to electioneer a little for the
Legislature and for Congress. In fact, some wanted, and were looking
forward to the time, to run for Governor of Tennessee.
Staunton was a big place; whisky was cheap, and good Virginia
tobacco was plentiful, and the currency of the country was gold and
silver.
The State Asylums for the blind and insane were here, and we visited
all the places of interest.
Here is where we first saw the game called "chuck-a-luck," afterwards
so popular in the army. But, I always noticed that chuck won, and luck
always lost.
Faro and roulette were in full blast; in fact, the skum had begun to
come to the surface, and shoddy was the gentleman. By this, I mean
that civil law had been suspended; the ermine of the judges had been
overridden by the sword and bayonet. In other words, the military had
absorbed the civil. Hence the gambler was in his glory.

WARM SPRINGS, VIRGINIA
One day while we were idling around camp, June Tucker sounded the
assembly, and we were ordered aboard the cars. We pulled out for
Millboro; from there we had to foot it to Bath Alum and Warm Springs.
We went over the Allegheny Mountains.
I was on every march that was ever made by the First Tennessee
Regiment during the whole war, and at this time I cannot remember of
ever experiencing a harder or more fatiguing march. It seemed that
mountain was piled upon mountain. No sooner would we arrive at a
place that seemed to be the top than another view of a higher, and yet
higher mountain would rise before us. From the foot to the top of the
mountain the soldiers lined the road, broken down and exhausted. First
one blanket was thrown away, and then another; now and then a good
pair of pants, old boots and shoes, Sunday hats, pistols and Bowie
knives strewed the road. Old bottles and jugs and various and sundry
articles were lying pell-mell everywhere. Up and up, and onward and
upward we pulled and toiled, until we reached the very top, when there
burst upon our view one of the grandest and most beautiful landscapes
we ever beheld.
Nestled in the valley right before us is Bath Alum and Warm Springs. It
seemed to me at that time, and