"This is still Confederate territory."

Petersen House, Washington.

Saturday, April 15, 1865, Danville

Here we are at the station house and freight shed of the Piedmont Railroad. We have marched a long ways and the hope that we may spend some time riding is sweet to us. This railroad, like most in the Confederacy, I will wager, is in bad straits. The locomotives and cars all have the look that mechanical things get when they have been used well past their useful life.

There are too many of us to be taken right away. We all have to wait our turn. I do not know who is ahead of us or who is waiting behind us and I do not care. I only care that some hour or day it will me my turn to ride.

Tomorrow will be one week since we were surrendered. Our march away from Appomattox, at first, was quite martial. As long as we were within sight of the Yankees, we acted and looked our best. We were not about to let them think us any less than an army of soldiers.

It did not last. Indeed, it could not last. After four or five miles, our column expanded and contracted like an accordion. The officers have tried to instill some discipline in us. That worked with some but not with others. In our company, it was the same.

As we approached a town and for as long as it took to go through it, we became more martial. It was not just for show. We may be surrendered and everything north and west of Appomattox may be under Yankee occupation.  This is still Confederate territory.

The towns folk have said that the President and his cabinet had been here. They have left for parts unknown. It is good that they left. Some of us would have some very unkind words for them otherwise.

Confederate President Jefferson Davis.

As we passed through these little towns, the populace greeted us with cheers. Though they cheered, I think they knew that the game was up. By the terms of our parole, we were forbidden from taking up arms ever again. We could offer townspeople no protection or support should it be needed. Some militia we observed here and there. They were almost all old men and boys. They tried to look the part but all of them together could not hold off a single Yankee brigade.

Surgeon Bailey has taken our sick to the Danville hospital. I hope that they will be well enough to be moved by the time the trains come. They may get captured again. Steward Entzminger has stayed with us at the freight shed to tend to the minor cases. As there is so very little freight here, we soldiers have a good deal of room.

Confederate hospitals, Danville.

As we passed through each town, I saw that some of the townsfolk and militia bore looks of gloom on their faces. They know that the Yankees are coming and there is nothing that they can do about it.

Too young.

Too old.

The commissary officer for this area allowed our commissaries to take rations from his warehouse to issue to us soldiers. The fare was typical army issue but we did not care. Our haversacks are full. We do not know where the next such warehouse will be.

The townsfolk have been generous to us as far as supplementing our army fare is concerned. Hancock received a rhubarb pie from a nice lady. Half of it disappeared in the time it took to walk the few dozen feet from her to us. Corporal Flynn has a new pair of socks thanks to someone's loving hands. Broom has a new pair of shoes.

They, the town folk, ask us questions. How was Lee defeated? Where are we going? Why do we not stay and defend them from the Yankees? What will happen to them? We could not give them any satisfaction. It was quite sad. I saw several people holding back tears.

From ordnance stores here, some of us now have cartridge boxes and bayonets. Some without rifles were able to arm themselves. We are looking more like soldiers.

When we left Appomattox, all of us, save the officers, were unarmed by the terms of the parole. Now, six or eight of us in the company have rifles. We have found them tossed by the road and took them as our own. We all surrendered our cartridge boxes but several of us, myself included, emptied our cartridges into our pockets. There is no telling what we may run into on our way home. We need to be able to defend ourselves. Let us hope we shall not have to.


I Send You These Few Lines.


I must confess that I have no idea when or how any of the Confederate troops that surrendered at Appomattox made it home. The sources I've been using all state something like, and then they went home. The lack of detail about something so important is abhorrent to me. I'll have to rely on what would be the easiest and most logical way the returning soldiers would make their journey. They have two choices, walk or ride the rails.

I'll have to research what roads were in existence at the time that would offer the most direct route home. What bridges over deep water are still functional at this time. Where are there fords? For the railroads, the documentation is a bit better. A bit. What Confederate railroads still work? Do they run close to the soldier's home? I'm not complaining. Research is fun. It often leads to some amazing revelations. I've found several while doing research for this blog.

Some historians say that Danville, Virginia was the last capitol of the Confederacy. Charlotte, North Carolina makes the same claim. And so does Union, South Carolina. I'm not going to take sides.

Tooms and his pards are unaware of news beyond Danville. They know nothing of what has happened at home of William and Anna Petersen in Washington, D.C.

Today, Jefferson Davis and his party are in Greensboro, North Carolina.