Co. Aytch - Maury Grays, First Tennessee Regiment | Page 6

since, a glimpse of a better and brighter
world beyond, to the weary Christian pilgrim who may have been
toiling on his journey for years. A glad shout arose from those who had
gained the top, which cheered and encouraged the others to persevere.
At last we got to Warm Springs. Here they had a nice warm dinner
waiting for us. They had a large bath-house at Warm Springs. A large
pool of water arranged so that a person could go in any depth he might
desire. It was a free thing, and we pitched in. We had no idea of the
enervating effect it would have upon our physical systems, and as the
water was but little past tepid, we stayed in a good long time. But when
we came out we were as limp as dishrags. About this time the assembly
sounded and we were ordered to march. But we couldn't march worth a
cent. There we had to stay until our systems had had sufficient
recuperation. And we would wonder what all this marching was for, as

the war was over anyhow.
The second day after leaving Warm Springs we came to Big Springs. It
was in the month of August, and the biggest white frost fell that I ever
saw in winter.
The Yankees were reported to be in close proximity to us, and Captain
Field with a detail of ten men was sent forward on the scout. I was on
the detail, and when we left camp that evening, it was dark and dreary
and drizzling rain. After a while the rain began to come down harder
and harder, and every one of us was wet and drenched to the skin--guns,
cartridges and powder. The next morning about daylight, while
standing videt, I saw a body of twenty-five or thirty Yankees
approaching, and I raised my gun for the purpose of shooting, and
pulled down, but the cap popped. They discovered me and popped three
or four caps at me; their powder was wet also. 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. They broke and run. Captain Field
did all the firing, but every time he pulled down he brought a Yankee. I
have forgotten the number that he did kill, but if I am not mistaken it
was either twenty or twenty-one, for I remember the incident was in
almost every Southern paper at that time, and the general comments
were that one Southern man was equal to twenty Yankees. While we
were in hot pursuit, one truly brave and magnanimous Yankee, who
had been badly wounded, said, "Gentlemen, you have killed me, but
not a hundred yards from here is the main line." We did not go any
further, but halted right there, and after getting all the information that
we could out of the wounded Yankee, we returned to camp.
One evening, General Robert E. Lee came to our camp. He was a fine-
looking gentleman, and wore a moustache. He was dressed in blue
cottonade and looked like some good boy's grandpa. I felt like going up
to him and saying good evening, Uncle Bob! I am not certain at this
late day that I did not do so. I remember going up mighty close and
sitting there and listening to his conversation with the officers of our
regiment. He had a calm and collected air about him, his voice was
kind and tender, and his eye was as gentle as a dove's. His whole

make-up of form and person, looks and manner had a kind of gentle
and soothing magnetism about it that drew every one to him and made
them love, respect, and honor him. I fell in love with the old gentleman
and felt like going home with him. I know I have never seen a finer
looking man, nor one with more kind and gentle features and manners.
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.
He took the reins of the bridle in his hand and said, "thank you, my
son," rode off, and my heart went with him. There was none of his staff
with him; he had on no sword or pistol, or anything to show his rank.
The only thing that I remember he had was an opera-glass hung over
his shoulder by a strap.
Leaving Big Springs, we marched on day by day, across Greenbrier and
Gauley rivers to Huntersville, a little but sprightly town hid in the very
fastnesses of the mountains. The people live exceedingly well in these
mountains. They had plenty