"...the prettiest senoritas..."

Thursday, June 25, 1863, Maryland, near Hagerstown.



Today, we crossed the Potomac into Maryland. In the rotation of brigades in the march, it was our brigade that led the division across the river. I hope they heard us cheering in Washington. We will be there soon enough, if Lee wills it.

We were here last September, in this Maryland. I remember that we entered what we thought was a fellow Southern state, held prisoner in the old Union by bayonets. We were deluded in thinking that we would or could liberate these people. While these was a good amount of sympathy from some of these citizens, the overall reception was one of reserved indignation. I do not care a fig if these people ever are liberated.

Back in the Mex War, when I was with the First Virginia, I can remember a different reception. There were several companies of the First around Buena Vista. I think it was in '47. I should have kept a diary then like I am now. The local people there were next to jubilant when we occupied the town. The dictator, Santa Anna, ruled all Mexico with an iron fist and we had freed them from the yolk yoke. Banditry had vanished and there was peace.

The peace lasted until one of us got into it with one of them and I do not mean the Mexicans. There was a cantina there called the Azul Coyote. Several of us were there, Charlie Thompson, Cal Smith, Sparrel Jones, Bart Adams, Bill Johnson and myself. There may have been others but these few are all I can remember. The fare was tortias, friholes and aguardiente. There were the prettiest senoritas and that is where all the trouble began.

One of the Mexican maidens, Contessa, perhaps, caught the eye of Cal Smith. Cal, having inbibed at the well a bit too much, fancied that this maiden fancied him. Bill, at the well, too, fancied that she fancied him. Cal and Bill started talking and got louder. One shoved the other who shoved back. It was not too bad until Cal, from Rockingham County, Virginia. insulted the outsider, Bill, a Marylander from Baltimore. 

That was what set off the powder keg. There were many Marylanders in our Virginia regiment and once the gauntlet was thrown to the floor, the population of the cantina split into us and them. The fight was on. Anything that could be broken, was broken. The breakage was not limited to the furniture or glassware. Jaws and teeth and perhaps an arm or two fell to angry blows or flying bottles. In dodging away from one bottle, I ran into another and suffered a cut across my forehead. Some of the Mexicans, in trying to stop us from further damaging the cantina, were damaged themselves and gave as good as they got.

The provosts were summoned, who came with fixed bayonets and used their muskets as clubs to stop the fight. All of us were ordered to make good the damages. The cantina owner received some three hundred dollars. He could have bought a hotel with that.

As we were from several companies, the provosts took us to our respective captains. After our Captain Bankhead threatened to bury us in the sand and pour honey over our heads, he took us, still under provost guard, to pay a visit to see Major Early, the adjutant. Captain Corse and his miscreants were here as was Lieutenant Garnett, assistant to Early.

Before the war, while working as a schoolteacher in Franklin County, Virginia, I had made the aquaintence of Early. I cannot say that we were friends but we knew each other to a certain extent. 

The Major proceeded to dress down every one of us guilty folks in a manner that would melt an iceberg. Captain Bankhead was nervous and he was not being addressed. Then Early looked straight at me. "Tooms!", he said. I remember nothing after that. Cal said later that I had turned white. Early threatened to put all of us to the lash which would have been less painful than his verbal lashing. We were then dismissed and nothing else was said or done to us. At one point in this tirade, Quartermaster Kemper stuck his head through the window to listen. He had a habit of making his presence known.

That was some sixteen years and a thousand miles ago. If my feet could talk, they would say that they have marched a thousand miles since leaving Fredericksburg. Many of us are suffering from brogans that are shy of uselessness. Too many of us are barefoot and hurting. Between the shoes and the Sun, it has proven too much for some and they have fallen away. They will catch up to us some time. Whatever expedition we are engaged in, no one wants to miss it. We are all cheerful even in a state of pain.

Before we left Fredericksburg, I managed to acquire a spare pair of brogans. My intention was to wear my old ones until it became necessary to replace them with the new ones. On this march, I have been offered tidy sums to sell them but I have refused all. Vincent offered me one hundred dollars, Confederate, for my old ones. I cannot, in good conscience, profit from some unfortunate's poor circumstances. 

Somewhere near Summit Point, I gave my old brogans to Vincent and donned my new ones which were not really new. Vincent threw his old ones by the side of the road as being worthless. Quickly, Bill Crenshaw picked them up and put them on over his bare, bleeding feet. He was so happy. Holton gave him his spare pair of socks and one would think that Bill had won the lottery.

It is with men like this that we will take the war to the enemy and win our freedom.


I Send You These Few Lines


All the people that Tooms mentions in his Mexican memories had served in the 1st Virginia Regiment during the Mexican War. James L. Kemper, Montgomery Corse, Jubal Early and Thomas  S. Garnett went on to serve in the Civil War. Kemper, a politician, was a brigade commander under George Pickett and was wounded during Pickett's Charge. He later became Governor of Virginia.

Corse took over command of Pickett's brigade after the latter was promoted to divisional command. Corse and his brigade missed Gettysburg as they were assigned to guard duty near Hanover Court House. Early was known for his colorful language at every level of command he  was given. Lee called him his, "bad old man". Garnett commanded the Stonewall Brigade until he was mortally wounded at Chancellorsville. Both Lee and Jackson and many, many others who served in the Mexican War served in the subsequent American War.

The route taken by Tooms and A. P. Hill's corps from the last entry, if taken today, would run through White Post to Berryville towards Smithfield which has long since been renamed Middleway in Jefferson County, WVA.  About Middleway (Smithfield), WVA State 480 runs to Shepardstown on the Potomac River. During the war, 480 was known as the Smithfield-Shepardstown Pike. It is at Shepardstown that the Potomac was forded into Maryland on the 25th. I think.

I say I think because in the absence of field work, which would be exceedingly fantastic and well beyond my humble means, I am dependent on the work of other researchers who disagree with each other.

For instance, Harry Pfanz, in "Gettysburg, the First Day", says that Hill's corps crossed the Potomac on the 25th at Shepardstown. Glenn Tucker, in, "High Tide at Gettysburg", says Hill crossed on the 24th at Williamsport. J.F.C. Caldwell, writing in, "A Brigade of South Carolinians", says the crossing took place on the 25th but not where.

This is just some of what makes history fun. It is the thrill of the chase, the research, and then the fireworks at the discovery.