A TRUE STORY OF THE LAST BATTLE AT

WEST POINT, GEORGIA

by Isham Stanley II

In the year 1865 I was staying with my uncle, E. D. McKinley, who was then living on the state line road about 1/2 mile north of the Oceligree creek.

On the morning of April 16th of that year, by the way it was Sunday and my birthday, 17 years of age. My uncle rode horse-back to West Point and returned about nine o’clock and said to me, "The Yankees are sure coming this time, are you ready to fight ‘um?" There had been several reports at different times, I replied "certainly, any one that will not fight when the enemy comes right into his own home would be a mighty sorry somebody".

In the early part of the War between the States, there had been left on the West Point and Montgomery railroad train a Springfield musket which the Conductor took charge of and gave to me. Well, this gun had already been loaded since it had been used for small game. I thought it best to have it cleaned before trying it on the enemy. So I discharged it, gave it a thorough cleaning and started to West Point.

When I had just passed through and closed the gate of the outer enclosure, my Uncle called me to wait a minute. I did so and when he approached the tears were trickling down his cheeks. He said, "I do not like to see you go, but I cannot advise you not to." He then began to direct me how to get into the Fort by going down the creek in case the Yankees were on the front side. I thanked him and remarked that I knew every crook and turn and foot-log on that creek from its mouth three miles up.

I went the road, however, and when I arrived at the Fort there were no Yankees in sight to me. I reported to General Tyler and he ordered some one to give me some ammunition if there was on hand the kind to fit my gun, which as before stated was a smooth bore muzzle loading musket. There were a few cartridges to suit, fortunately, (These cartridges had tissue paper shells instead of brass as do breech loading ones.) I was given, I suppose forty rounds. I perhaps should not have used the word fortunately, but I sure did enjoy shooting at those Yankees tho’ I was not a bit mad at them.

Well, at about eleven o’clock the cannonading commenced, I am not prepared to say which fired first, the Federals of the Confederates. The enemies cannon were on or just over the brow of a hill in a southwest direction and 1½ (miles) more or less away.

The first few shots from the enemy cut nearly into the rope that ran up and held the flag in position and the range seemed to be lost and the shots passed over while quite a few fell short, but it was not very long, it seemed to me, before nearly every ball hit the mark, that is, every few minutes while squatting against the parapet when loading my gun I could feel the jar. My position was within thirty feet of the 32-pound cannon that some one by mistake said was never fired. It was, however, fired a number of times.

In order to make the following statements more intelligible, I shall give a description of the fort as follows: It was located on the top of the hill where the city reservoir now is, which is a little over a furlong from the center of town, and was about sixty feet square, not over eighty I should think and was constructed on this wise: There was a ditch some seven or eight feet wide and about six feet deep all around except about ten feet at the middle of the south side which formed the entrance. The dirt that was taken out of the ground, by which means the ditch was formed, was thrown on the inside forming a parapet about 4-1/2 feet high and about eight feet or more thick. The base of this parapet on the outside extended to the ditch and was slopping while on the inside it was vertical. I suppose that this dirt must have been well packed or it could never have stood vertical. About ten feet back of the entrance inside of the fort was a wall about six feet thick and say about eight feet high and long enough to protect the men, both on the east and west sides from the fire of the enemy at an angle through the opening in the entrance.

This wall consisted of timers 10 or 12 inches square set on end after the manner of a post and jammed together forming a kind of box which was filled with dirt. In the center of the fort was an excavation timbered over and covered with dirt and piled up making a considerable mound. In this room or cellar was the ammunition and some provisions kept. Incidentally, they were not kept long.

The flag pole was on the east side of the fort, and by the way after the surrender, I saw a man climbing it, but being attracted to the other side, I went around there and returning found it was being cut down. The reason for that as before stated, was that the rope had been partially cut and would not pass through the sheaf at the top of the pole, consequently the flag could not be lowered.

There has been a great deal said and written about General Tyler’s being killed, -- When, Where, How and by Whom. General Tyler deliberately walked in front of the wall last described, exposing his whole body to the enemy. When about midway he stopped, left faced, which movement turned his breast square to the enemy. At that moment he fell and never moved a muscle as I could see. This scene was enacted while I was squatting close to the parapet loading my gun and was next man to the entrance, he being Isaac Heyman. We were within twenty-five feet of the General with nothing to obstruct the view. This occurred late in the afternoon.

Now the enemy being sheltered behind a cut in the road, big rocks, stumps and terraces between front and back yard of Dr. Griggs home, and with repeating rifles trained on the fort and with a dozen or more shooting simultaneously at one man, who can say who killed him?

Just before we surrendered the enemy got so close that we could not see them because of the height and breadth of the parapet, so we held our guns above our heads at full length of arms and pointing the muzzle downward fired, thinking the shot might be effective perhaps.

This is very amusing. At the time just referred to I heard some one shouting, as I understood it "Ham and eggs! Ham and eggs!" I thought what does that mean? I learned afterwards hand grenades was the real thing instead. You see that I was not ripe on technical terms for some munitions of war, hence my mistake.

Hand grenades is simply a shell with a fuse cut just the length, which when lighted and thrown by hand over the parapet would explode by the time it struck the ground. It required the exercise of good judgment in cutting these fuses for if cut too long the enemy could throw them back into the fort where they would explode among our own men.

Before leaving the fort, Tom Cherry, a distant relative of mine and some younger, went into the magazine and procured a small ham and started out. At the entrance Tom Cherry, Sr., who said "Isham, you and Tom just sort of saunter along down through my yard and maybe they will not take you prisoners." Now Tom Cherry, Sr. Was a Union man, hence his presence at the fort after the battle.

Said I to Cousin Tom. "You just sit here and keep the hams so that in case we don’t succeed we will want the hams." I had not had any dinner "don’t you know". The house was about 100 yards west of the fort so Tom and I did as directed and had gotten into the yard when we met an officer who asked us if we had been in the fort during the battle. We affirmed that we had been, then a guard was told to take charge of us. By the way, we went back to the fort by no Cousin Tom or hams could ever be seen.

We caught up with the other prisoners at the river and so were not far from College Hill we were all huddled for the night. I did not sleep during the night as there was nothing but the bare ground to lie on and the air was quite chilly at the time.

The following morning, the 17th about 9 or 10 o’clock. Cam Lanier who was an intimate friend and fellow prisoner, received at the hands of his relatives, a lunch, a part of which he shared with me. None of my people knew that I had been in the fight but my Uncle who was several miles away at that time. This morsel was the only thing that I had eaten since breakfast the previous morning.

About one o’clock in the afternoon we were ordered to march. We arrived at LaGrange, Ga., after sundown and halted about 20 minutes and then marched about a mile and encamped in an enclosed grove at the Widow Raglin’s close to the A&WP RR. The environment was the same as the night before. I however did lie down a short while and slept perhaps about half an hour. As before stated the atmosphere was very chilly for April and the ground being damp I was really afraid to sleep on it, notwithstanding I was very tired and sleepy.

On the morning of the 18th just before leaving, I was standing by the yard fence when some one of the inmates of the house handed over a waiter of ham sandwiches and fortunately for me I was the first on deck and do you know I had to bring into play my early training or else I would have taken the whole thing. Imagine the temptation to a hearty boy who had had nothing to eat scarcely for two days.

This same morning, the 18th we set out to Macon, Ga. And after having gone about five or six miles we came to a public blacksmith’s shop where we were ordered to mount. I said to one of the guards, "We have no horses, how can we mount?" His reply was, "Take them from the Negroes". Now the enemy in passing through the country had taken from the citizens their horses and turned over to the Negroes their broken down ones, so there were quite a number of Negroes following along with Mr. Yank and waiting on them too, believe me. Well, I went up to a Negro who was about 18 or 20 years old and who was on a little fat mule. I said, "Get down, I must have this mule". Instead he began to remonstrate saying "You can’t ride this mule he will sho’ throw you and kick too, yo’ see what a trace chain him got around he neck". I told him I thought as much was the reason I selected him, that he would suit me to a "T". In the meantime a guard rode up on the opposite side and asked why I did not mount. I said that the Negro would not dismount., He rode up close and uttering an oath and lifting his unsheathed word as if to strike. He said, "Knock him off". The Negro realizing that he was not to be shown any favors dodged over to my side. I caught him by the shoulders and giving him a snatch landed him on all fours. I then mounted, having first cut the bridle rein, which was a whole plow line, so as to make stirrups., I had no saddle and had to ride the whole day bareback.

That night we camped in an apple orchard and ten or twelve horses were tied to one tree. The following morning there were only two but several broken bridles were still there. The little mule with the chain was supposed to have done the work. Among the horses that were missing was one which a young man by the name of Williams had ridden the day before. This boy was a dry goods clerk. I knew that I was more able to walk than he, so I prevailed on him to take my mule and I would take it a-foot.

After marching a mile or two we came across a mule by the side of the road with the bridle reins on the ground standing in the bushes. He was above the average size and was anything but fat, in fact very lean and on his back was a saddle sore. The guard suggested that I take this mule that we were to travel 40 miles that day. I protested however saying that I had ridden the previous day bareback and to ride a lean mule bareback 40 miles would be a punishment almost unbearable. He said that maybe we could get a saddle before going far, we did not however. Before mounting I made stirrups by cutting the reins into and forming a loop on each end and placing the rope thus formed across the mules back. The rope was too short to make the stirrups long enough and having to sit back of the sore previously mentioned, the bridle reins were too short. Now the final analysis is this: A man riding all day long on a mule so lean that he can hardly travel, consequently no elasticity to his step, bare-back, rope stirrups short enough to bring his feet almost to a horizontal position, sitting back of a large sore with arms outstreched almost to full length holding the reins. I procured a saddle the next day and my ride was more comfortable the rest of the way to Macon.

We arrived there in the afternoon of the date -- I can’t quite recall. The prisoners were put that night in the second story of what we were told was an unfurnished laboratory. About midnight some mischievous boys commenced braying like an ass, some crowed like a cock. Several of the prisoners, old men I suppose, tried to get them to hush, but "nothing doing". Then they began to curse the boys and the more they cursed, the more the boys would crow and bray. I kinder thought "damn it" myself for I was very tired and sleepy, but really it was amusing.

The following morning I was at a window looking over the grounds when I saw a group of men within the enclosure. By watching them I discovered that they were eating something. This aroused my interest at once so I hurried down stairs where a lot of men were crowding and pushing each other trying to get a large box of crackers which some succeeded in doing. I remained standing a few minutes thinking that surely I would have a chance at these crackers without having to act like a perishing hog, but the more I waited the more I became convinced that if there was any hog in me at all it was time to make an exhibition or else I would not get any of those crackers. So I make a dive for the box and fortunately for me, in moving the top off of the box there was left a plank 4 or inches wide. I clamped this with my left hand. Several attempts were made to snatch it away from me but "Nothing doing". I had a grip equal to the occasion. Now with my right hand I pulled my shirt up a little forming a large pocket. I had on hip pants. I unbuttoned my shirt next to the top button and crammed into this improvised pocket as much as it would hold, about 4 pounds. I then went above stairs and ate the whole of them without stopping. So you see the hog in both the getting and the eating. I will state here that at noon on the third day, I think it was, after our capture, a man started to throw away a small quantity of flour which was in a small slazy sack. This had been tied on the back of the saddle and was, or course, full of horse hair, horses shed their hair in April. I asked him to give it to me, which he did. I found a piece of canteen in which I made the dough, using nothing but water, no salt even. I wrapped the dough around the end of a stick and held it over the fire to cook it. When done I proceeded to break it and found the amount of hair a very forceful reminder of plastering. I had some fat meat so I sat on a large rock which was close by and quietly ate this simple meal with a zest not equaled by any that I had ever eaten.

My lacking for something to eat was partly my own fault. My name had not been enrolled, having reported to General Tyler only about an hour before the battle commenced, consequently I did not draw any rations and I was too proud to ask for any favors. The guards treated us very kindly.

We were marched from the Laboratory to a place about an acre square, enclosed by a fence 10 feet high made of 1"s by 2" planks, set vertical and jammed together making what is termed a plank wall. Outside of this wall and within 1/2 feet of the top and joined to it was a walk way 2 feet wide. This way was for the guards to walk around on and overlook the enclosure. I was told that the Confederate government built this pen to keep Yank prisoners in, but it seems that we were caught in the trap of our own making. We were kept in this pen about a week and then paroled.

We left Macon for West Point on a freight train. The pronoun WE in the succeeding narrative will apply only to the West Point boys which are: Buck Lawson, Bill Austin, Cam Lanier, Thos. Cherry, Jr. And myself. We rode on top of the train. Within a few miles of Macon were several squads of Negroes at different places near the railroad, merely off the right of way. These Negroes had on right new haversacks. While passing one of the boys said to me, "Isham, lend me your pistol. I want to shoot a Negro." I told him it would be wrong, however, he insisted so I let him have it. He fired once at the next squad we were passing. Still further on were some in the woods right at the right of way: one was on the fence and as he fired the Negro fell of the fence.

You may be curious to know how I, having been a prisoner and leaving immediately after being paroled, came into possession of a pistol. Well, I’ll tell you I had it when a prisoner. I was not searched when captured, I suppose for the reason I was a boy and had on my Sunday clothes, further more my coat was a roundabout, as it was called, with pockets after the manner of a man’s vest pockets and besides, the pistol was a flat one and did not show. Lets describe it. It had three barrels all in a row one above the other and joined solidly. The hand with the first three fingers stretched out and the thumb pointing upward would be a pretty fair representation. The barrel, of course did not revolve, the mechanism for moving the plunger in line with the barrel was the hammer. On the side of the barrels was a knife fixed in a slide with springs to operate it, so at will a person could slide it out making a complete dirk using the pistol as a handle.

While the train stopped a few minutes at Griffin, Cam Lanier procured a lot of yellow tape about 1/2 inch wide. We made neckties, also tied some in buttonholes of our coats, also made sashes and occasionally would sing. "We are the boys that fear no noise," etc.

We arrived in Atlanta ‘bout dark. I drew on my parole what was reckoned three days rations, which consisted of a loaf of bread, the size of 10 cent loaves at this writing, and a piece of meat about 3 inches square, two and half inches thick and looked like pressed lard. Well, I sat down and ate the whole of the ration at once. It not occurring to me the amount that I was eating. However there were no ill after effects. We slept in a freight car that night and left the next morning for West Point, Georgia. Arriving we found that both the bridges of the river had been burned. There were several men running bateau’s conveying the people across the river, among whom was Mort Bridges, an intimate friend, who rowed us over gratuitously.

THE END