story of the war, been broken, even though the army
was routed; yet, my brave soldiers, Tennesseans all, you have ever
remained in your places in the ranks of the regiment, ever subject to the
command of your gallant Colonel Field in every battle, march, skirmish,
in an advance or a retreat. There are on the books of the war department
at Richmond, the names of a quarter of a million deserters, yet, you,
my brave soldiers, captains all, have remained true and steadfast.
I have heard that some have been dissatisfied with the removal of General
Joe E. Johnston and the appointment of General Hood; but, my brave and
gallant heroes, I say, I have done what I thought best for your good.
Soon we commence our march to Kentucky and Tennessee. Be of good cheer,
for within a short while your faces will be turned homeward, and your
feet will press Tennessee soil, and you will tread your native heath,
amid the blue-grass regions and pastures green of your native homes.
We will flank General Sherman out of Atlanta, tear up the railroad and
cut off his supplies, and make Atlanta a perfect Moscow of defeat to
the Federal army. Situated as he is in an enemy's country, with his
communications all cut off, and our army in the rear, he will be
powerless, and being fully posted and cognizant of our position, and of
the Federal army, this movement will be the _ultima thule_, the grand
crowning stroke for our independence, and the conclusion of the war."

ARMISTICE IN NAME ONLY

About this time the Yankees sent us a flag of truce, asking an armistice
to move every citizen of Atlanta south of their lines. It was granted.
They wanted to live in fine houses awhile, and then rob and burn them,
and issued orders for all the citizens of Atlanta to immediately abandon
the city. They wanted Atlanta for themselves, you see.

For weeks and months the roads were filled with loaded wagons of old and
decrepit people, who had been hunted and hounded from their homes with a
relentless cruelty worse, yea, much worse, than ever blackened the pages
of barbaric or savage history. I remember assisting in unloading our
wagons that General Hood, poor fellow, had kindly sent in to bring out
the citizens of Atlanta to a little place called Rough-and-Ready about
half way between Palmetto and Atlanta. Every day I would look on at the
suffering of delicate ladies, old men, and mothers with little children
clinging to them, crying, "O, mamma, mamma," and old w