as possible amongst the straggling troops [Longstreet’s men] that now thronged the road. … Amid this helter-skelter, dejected crowd, we marched in order, with arms at the “right shoulder.” As we passed the weary, exhausted groups, they stared in amazement to see our little band of sixteen, still preserving discipline and—still better—cheerfulness. … [We] marched in order, as neatly as on drill, keeping step to the song that Reuben Ruff sang in a clear, ringing voice, one of the best voices in our camp. The song was “Jubilo,” a negro song first sung by the Yankees, later becoming a favorite amongst the Confederates. Like schoolboys on a holiday, we joined in Ruffs chorus at the top of our lungs, so that the woods and hills along our march fairly rang with shouts of “Jubilo.” … At Goode’s Bridge we found [that] of our whole Battallion of Sharpshooters —three companies—only forty were left, of which we made 16. …

From Goode’s Bridge on, our march was one of unremitting fatigue, hunger, trouble, and disaster. … Every hour brought news of the capture or burning of portions of our wagon train, while wagons, broken down horses, pieces of artillery, stragglers, and all kinds of munitions of war were being abandoned to fall into the hands of our pursuers. …

Straggling became the rule rather than the exception. From sheer weakness and lack of sustenance, many a brave man lagged then behind his command who had never lagged before. The 8,000 who drew up before Appomattox were not 8,000 bodies; it was 8,000 souls which still dragged along with them their unwilling bodies, whether or no. …

April 9, 1865 we reached the neighborhood of Appomattox and came to a halt and were drawn up in line. … Then I saw a Federal officer come galloping in carrying aloft a white handkerchief. …

Presently the whisper began to pass from mouth to mouth that it was a flag of truce, and that General Lee was about to surrender. … The idea was simply preposterous and I hooted it. There had been surrenders and there would be surrenders, but Gen. Lee’s army surrender? Never!

The firing had all ceased, and we saw Confederate regiments returning from the field of battle. And now the whole army—and a small one it was—gathered together on a low hill over against Appomattox. And along the ridge of hills opposite were stretched the long dark lines of the enemy. They lay directly in our front, blocking our further retreat. We were drawn up in column of regiments, I believe, and ordered to stack arms. And then the rumor grew louder and more assured that we were indeed about to surrender.…

I had been in Prison once, and was not going again. I [decided to] make my way out to join Gen. Johnston in North Carolina. … I talked with Blackwood. He was ready to follow me anywhere. …

Shortly before this I

had gone to General McGowan … to ask whether we were going to surrender. I had found him in the woods, crying, half dressed, taking off his old dirty uniform, and putting on a newer brighter one used on state occasions. I did not then need his acknowledgment of our miserable fate.

By that time it had got to be well known amongst the men that Lee had determined to surrender, and it was a lamentable spectacle to see how the men took it. Some seemed to be glad that it was all over, but even they, I have no doubt, would have been as ready to charge as the rest, had it been so ordered. But mostly there were sad and gloomy faces. For myself, I cried. I could not help it. And all about were men crying…

So Blackwood and I left the little tattered, weary, sad, and weeping army— our army—left them there on the hill with their arms stacked in the field, all in rows—never to see it any more. Telling Clarke and Bell goodbye, we crossed the road into the untenanted fields and thickets, and in a little while lost sight of all that told of the presence of what was left of the army that through four long years, time and again, had beaten back its enemy, keeping Richmond, its capital, sale and free. …