It was cold and wet standing in front of the Guntersville Post Office that morning of Feb. 20, 1862. Richard Chaffey and his fellows had been standing in formation for only a few minutes and already they were shivering uncontrollably. They didn't have their uniforms yet, so they just looked like a bunch of farmers standing in a ragged line. But that was all to change. Richard looked up at the gray sky and leafless tree branches, wondering when he might see them again.

Finally, a Sargent came up in front of them and told them to march into the mess tent. Their marching more resembled a shuffle. Inside the big tent, they lined up with a tin plate, cup and silverware, passing a black cook who scooped eggs and fatback onto their plates. The coffee was hot. In a big cauldron and strong. They simply dipped their cups in and scooped up a cup full. Trying not to stir the grounds up more than necessary.

This was the first Richard had eaten since leaving home yesterday noon. He was very hungry. The scalding coffee, without sugar, he would have ordinarily scorned, was downed as if it were the nectar of the Gods. Before they could wolf down everything, the Sargent was back, commanding they "Get a move on! We have men to feed here". They all finished what they could, carried their utensils outside, washed them in a cedar tub of ice cold water, wiped them dry and stacked them. Soldiers of the 48th Alabama Infantry were lining up for their turn at breakfast.

After lining them up in formation again, the Sargent went down the line, handing each man a boarding pass and writing down their names. "Gentlemen. You will see a number on the top of your pass. Remember it. Write it down. This is your serial number. It will stay your serial number as long as you are in the Army." Then the Sargent ordered, "Gentlemen, try to show some simbalance of a military manner. I want you to march down this road to the railway depot. Just to the right of the railway depot is located the quartermaster depot. There you will draw uniforms and equipment. If any of you Mama's boys have anything to take with you, better grab it now. Your train leaves at 7:45am. Be on it, or face charges. You are in the Army now!"

Everyone scrambled to get their parcels and line back up in formation. Then, with the Sargent calling cadence, they "Marched" toward the railway. At the quartermaster's depot, an officer came outside and told them to raise their right hand, palm outward. "Repeat after me", he said. A he hurredily read off the allegence to the Confederate States of America. Some were trying to repeat what he said, but couldn't keep up with him. Some, obviously had memorized it before hand, and rattled it out in fashion. "Congratulations. You are now soldiers of the Confederacy."

Guntersville had become a major shipping point since the war began. Goods were moved up and down the Tennessee River by boat and the Louisville & Nashville Railway ran north and south from here as well as the Georgia Inland Railway, from Atlanta to Little Rock, ported by ferry from Guntersville down river to Muscel Shoals, where it continued west on the north side of the river.

Inside the building, they were hurried along in front of a large wooden counter and asked for pant, shirt, hat and shoe size. However it appeared that uniforms came in only two sizes. Too big and too small. When ever some remarked that perhaps the size wasn't right, the answer "You'll grow into it", or "You'll lose that lard", was the response. At the end of the counter was another Sargent who took their serial number down.

Then they were marched to the waiting train and into the boxcars. There were 16 green recruits in one car. The next car back held some older soldiers, Richard guessed, on their way back from leave. About 10 of them and 4 officers. One was the officer, (a Captain, Richard had learned), who had sworn them in. The last six were flat cars fitted with sideboards and were being loaded with horses and gear. Right now, Richard wished he could be with the horses. He was the youngest recruit and felt like an extra left shoe. All the other men were talking back and forth. But no one spoke to Richard. And this was the first time he would ever be away from home. His throat had a lump about as big as a water bucket in it as he realized he was leaving everything he had ever known, and might never see it again.

He looked south to the rain dimmed smudge that was Sand Mountain and home. In November, last year, when the government enacted the conscript law, Richard never dreamed that he would be off to war so soon. He believed that the states should have the right to make their own laws without interference from Washington, but neither he, his family or neighbors held any slaves, and he assumed the war would be fought by those who did. But the new law said that one of each three able bodied men between the age of 18 and 40 from each family must serve. His father was 58. His oldest brother, John, had a wife and new baby, but lived at home and helped farm . The middle son, Lyndon, was a Baptist preacher, and was exempted. Thus it had come to a choice between Richard and John. No choice really. Richard had eagerly volunteered to be the conscript for the Chaffey family. Now he was having second thoughts. Especially remembering his Mother's tears as he left, and his Father's gruff "Make us proud of you boy", before turning his face so his tears wouldn't be seen.

Then, one of the men did speak to him. "Hey, you're Clark Chaffey's boy, ain't you"? "Yes Sir, Richard Chaffey, sir". "I'm Nathan Williams from over on Slab Creek", he offered holding out his hand. Richard shook with him, returning a smile. Nathan said, "I've known your Mama and Dad since I was a whelp. Thought I recognized that Chaffey face". "How'd you come to get picked for conscript"? Richard replied, "It was either me or my brother John, and he has a family". Nathan nodded. "I see", he said. The two sat down cross legged since there were no chairs or stools, and talked until the train began to move. Richard discovered that Nathan had enlisted and wasn't conscripted. Richard had never ridden a train and was somewhat startled by the jerky start and the rumbling clack of the iron wheels on the tracks.

Gradually all the men introduced themselves to each other. And of course talk turned to what lay ahead for them. Everyone was headed for training at Camp Shelby just outside Macon. After four weeks, each would be assigned to a unit for field training for another four weeks. Then if the commanding officer of the unit approved their training, each would be assigned to a permenant unit. That might be infantry, artillery, cavalry, engineers, etc. Most would be assigned to infantry.

The training camps were something new to the army. Previously, an officer given the task of raising an army or unit, would recruit men from a specific area, training the men as a unit until they were deemed fit. These armies or army units were then given names such as Clark's Raiders and the 1st Tuscaloosa Cavalry. Grand sounding names that gave a soldier great pride in his unit. But this was slow. And often difficulties supplying these units arose. So, with the conscription act, training camps were established. Recruits were not assigned to their units until they had completed training at the camps. This was supposed to assure that everyone received the same training and lower the cost of training a soldier. Although the newspapers claimed that the cost had actually doubled.

About noon, a soldier came over the top of the car, pulled open the crawl door and yelled to "Get in your uniforms. We'll be in Macon in two hours". Then he dropped Nathan a sack with some cornbread and handed down a water tin. This was their noon meal. Afterwards, everybody got the new smelling uniforms on. Looking at each other, grinning and laughing about the ridiculous fit. As Richard started to pull on his boots, he felt a slip of paper in one of them. Some of the other men had found it in theirs too. Not everyone could read, so Nathan held his toward the light of the open doorway and read aloud. "Your feet are very important to your country. Should you have discomfort from this foot gear, promptly notify your commanding officer for correction." Everyone just looked for a moment. Then with uproarious laughter yelled, "Infantry"!

The train had stopped at least a half dozen times along the way. Each time new recruits were added to the boxcars. They now had a total of 21 in their car. Some of the cars held recruits even before Richard had boarded. Some of the men reckoned there must be at least a hundred new recruits on board. But finally the train did chuff into Macon Station. As they all eased out onto the ground, a group of non commissioned officers and the same Captain they knew from Guntersville, strode to a midway point in front of them. The Captain nodded to a non com on his left. The Sargent yelled "Men from Decatur and Muscle Shoals form up on me, now!" As these recruits began to line up in front of this Sargent, another yelled "Men from Paint Rock, Warrington and Guntersville, form up here!" They hurried into place.

When everyone was in formation, the Captain walked up in front and said, "Men, I am Captain Jeffery Connager. You are new recruits. But every man here was also at one time. Our job is to train you with the needed skills to keep you alive and functioning as a Confederate soldier. If your training seems rough and harsh, that's because it is intended to be so. War is harsh and rough. And your country is at war. It is up to each and every one of you to perform your duties as a soldier to keep our country free. Don't slack, and I know you won't, because your country cannot win with slackers. We are locked in a struggle for our very existence. It will be up to you to pull us through. Give it your all. The Sargent with each group will be in charge of you until you are assigned your training unit. May God bless you and may God bless the Confederacy". He stepped back and another officer took his place.

He said, "Soldiers, I am Major Paul Granger, your regimental chaplain. I wish to first welcome you to Camp Shelby and then to inform you that my office is always open to any soldier here if you have a problem or just wish to speak to me". He gazed up and down the line of men. Then said, "Let us pray". As we all bowed our heads, he prayed in a loud booming voice, "Our Heavenly Father, we ask your blessings upon these brave men. Guide them though the training each is to receive. Steady their hearts and strengthen their resolve to bring to a speedy end this conflict which has torn asunder our nation. If it be your will 'O Lord, see each through the trials ahead to return safely to home and family in a peaceful land. These things we ask in Jesus name, Amen".

Then Captain Connager stepped forward again, and called sharply, "Sargents!" Each Sargent called "Right face. Forward march!" There was no longer any doubt Richard thought. I'm in the army!

The march turned out to be about three quarters of a mile. Richard had never seen so many men and tents in his life. There were hundreds. Finally their Sargent turned them down a muddy trampled pathway between rows of tents. The old timers who had already been here a week or two, taunting them with, "Does you Mama know where you at"?, and "Better look under your bed for Yankees"! But it was in good nature because everyone was laughing. The Sargent assigned two men to each tent and said, "You are responsible for this tent. It's contents. It's condition and it's cleanliness. Don't make me have you clean it. You won't like that".

Richard was bunked with a man named Lee Stoval from Paint Rock. As soon as they had stowed their gear and thought they might get to talk to some of the neighboring soldiers, the Sargent was back calling for a formation of all recruits in company C. As they lined up midway between the tents, the Sargent, who looked like a big Georgia rock with legs, called them to attention, and spoke in a booming voice. Richard discovered that company C was all the tents pitched along this alleyway. All the recruits had arrived that day. There were 29 altogether. Before dark, eight more were assigned, bringing the total to 37 recruits, one Sargent and one Corporal. For the next four weeks these 39 men made up the 4th training regiment of the 64th Georgia Infantry Brigade.

No time was to be wasted. It was now 3:00pm. The Sargent marched them to an open field beyond the tents, where they were drilled on how to "March in a military manner", until dark. Whereupon they marched back up the alleyway between their tents, turned left in another alleyway, and to the mess tent. Each soldier picked up a tin plate, fork, spoon and knife before entering the mess. Passing in front of a counter, each had his plate filled with ham, sweet potatoes and peas.

Richard and Lee found seats at a table with long benches that could seat about 10 or 12 men. The food was surprisingly good. There was a big coffee pot past the serving counter. Richard got himself and Lee a hot cup of the black stuff to wash down the meal with. This time they were not hurried, but when the Sargent finished and stood, everyone seemed to finish at the same time, and also got up, carrying their utensils and plates outside to be washed, dried and stacked. This time in hot soapy water with another tub of water to rinse them in.

Richard had intended to write a letter home that night, but discovered that if you wanted a light after dark, you had to buy one from the quartermaster store at headquarters. A little Johnny lantern sold for $.95, including coal oil. But Richard had only brought $4.00 with him and decided to keep that for necessities. He would just have to find time during the day to write his letter. Fires were not permitted in the alleyways. So he and Lee talked into the night, too excited to sleep right away. Writing a letter during the day proved to be a problem also. There was no time. But then he discovered that most of the soldiers needing to write went to the mess tent after meals were over. There you could sit down at a table and there was plenty of light. Richard wrote home eagerly, describing all that had happened since leaving home and that he was well.

Conscriptees entered the army as a private grade 1 and were paid $6.00 per month. Upon completing the first four weeks of training, they were promoted to private grade 2 and were to be paid $8.00 per month. This was an automatic promotion, unless the commanding officer did not sign the order for some reason. Enlistees once entered as private grade 1, but after conscription started, all enlistees entered as private grade 2. They did not however receive an automatic promotion after the first month.

Richard and his fellow recruits trained from dawn to dark. Learning to march. Their orders of military conduct. Field survival. How to live off the land. How to conceal himself from the enemy. How to take care of personal hygiene in the field. How to keep his feet from blistering. How to march all day with a full field pack. And Back. And how to dig latrines. Richard thought he must have dug a hundred miles of latrine trenches. That seemed never to end.

On his second day, they were issued "Rifles". Wooden rifles that is. These were to be used to train with. Each had a canvas bag at each end filled with sand to increase the weight to match that of a real rifle. They were taught to parade, drill, shoulder and to "fire" the wooden sticks. They would be issued real rifles when they finished their four weeks training at Macon. Rifles were hard to come by for the Confederacy. They were made in England and had to be shipped in through the Yankee blockade. Some didn't make it. Some were confiscated by the Union ships.

Richard began to gain weight. And it wasn't fat. In fact the baby fat on his arms and around his waist was disappearing. He found that he could do the same things he did a month ago, without tiring. And he was hungry all the time. Their meals were cooked in the big mess tent at the end of the alleyway and consisted of bread, both corn and wheat, cooked dried beans and peas, and meat when it was available. There were 6,000 trainees at Camp Shelby and supplying that many men was a major undertaking. As soon as a company finished their four weeks and moved on, another took their place.

Finally the day came when their four weeks were up. Out of the original 37 recruits, two were set back two weeks, three deserted and one became ill and was discharged with tuberculosis. This left only 31.

Desertion was an offense punishable by death. And Captain Connager ranted at us for a half hour or more each time a man deserted. Richard's four weeks were up on the 22nd of March. That same day two men from company A, 2nd Training Regiment were standing trial for desertion after being captured and returned in irons. If found guilty, they were to be shot to death the following morning at sunrise. The Captain drummed this fact into us for a long time. That desertion was the way of a coward and such men were in fact trying to defeat the nation as surely as the Yankees. Richard decided that in fact war was harsh and cruel. And that he would do his best to be a good soldier and serve his country to his best ability.

Richard had written five letters home and had received three back from his mother. It seemed odd to think of life going on at it's normal pace at home, when here every day was something new. Without realizing it, Richard had come to make his own decisions without advice from his parents and to think ahead for himself as a man would instead of a boy.

With the last formation called, each man's orders were read aloud. He had hoped that he and Lee might be assigned to the 48th Alabama to complete their training. Such was not the case. Richard was assigned to the 14th Virginia Regulars. And he was to leave for assignment immediately. Lee was not assigned immediately, and might have to wait a day or two. Richard hurriedly packed his gear, anxious to be gone, but sad also to be leaving behind friends. He was to board the 4:00pm train to Atlanta, then switch to another for Greensboro, North Carolina. There he was to make his way by best possible method to Danville Virginia.

He shook Lee's hand, wished him well, and amid hoots and yells of "Good luck" and "Leave the Virginia ladies alone!", went to the headquarters tent, where he signed out for transit and picked up script for the train fare.

On the walk into Macon he thought of writing home, but decided against it because he would be hundreds of miles away when any return mail got here. "No", he thought, "Better to just wait until I get to some address where the mail can reach me".

Richard boarded his train after 6:00pm, which had not even arrived until after 5:00pm. Such were the schedules of war. This time, since he had purchased a ticket with script, he was located in a passenger coach. He had bought a newspaper in Macon, deciding to catch up on what was happening with the war. As he read the articles, he noted that the Confederate push northward was grinding to a halt. The Yankees were raising huge armies to thwart the Confederate push. Casualties were becoming heavy. And the Blockade was being tightened as the North put more and more ships into it. Many goods necessary to the Confederacy were reaching the Carolinas and Virginia, from New Orleans and Mexico.

Also, it now appeared that England would not enter into the war on the side of the South as hoped. Many seemed to fear that if England would not join the Confederacy, that she might side with the Union. That would mean doom. England was the primary source of manufactured goods for the South.

In addition, the Yankees were making a determined push southward into the Mississippi Valley, trying to cut off supplies shipped by that source. The Yankees now controlled Memphis. That gave them a gateway to move material up the Tennessee, thereby placing the entire Tennessee Valley in risk of raids by Yankee Cavalry. Yankee troops could push into the valley being supplied by riverboats on the Tennessee.

Richard looked up from the newspaper and out into the night as the train rumbled north. He thought, "If that happens, Yankees could be in Guntersville very quickly". As he read on, he noted that General Forrest had quickly moved a large Confederate force into position south of Memphis near the Mississippi border to counter any further push south by the Yankees.

The train soon chuffed into Atlanta. Richard and many others gathered up their gear and dismounted on the huge platform in front of the depot. As quickly as possible, standing in line, Richard moved up to the agent's window and inquired about the train to Greensboro. "Now loading on track 4, better not tarry. Been held up two hours already.", he was told, the agent pointing behind him to the other side of the depot.

Richard hurriedly purchased his ticket with the last of his script, and hurried off. He found the conductor on the long platform beside track 4 and gave him his ticket. The conductor punched two little holes in the edge and handed it back to him. "Get into any one of those three boxcars there", pointing past a row of flatcars loaded with equipment. "Thanks", Richard replied, and hurried off. The first car seemed full, and a soldier standing in the doorway pointed toward the last one. Reaching the last car, Richard was helped up by two soldiers. He dropped his war bag down against a wall and looked around. There seemed to be about 15 soldiers inside the car. He nodded to them. Some nodded in return. Some said "Howdy". Soon, more men were helped inside, and then they heard the conductor call "All aboard!", and the train rumbled out into the night.

The rocking motion and the clickety-clack of the iron wheels soon lulled Richard to sleep, his war bag for a pillow. Thus he slept through the night. Dreaming of home, and a land peaceful before the war. And of going to church and sitting in the same pew with Chloe Buchanan, who had the biggest brown eyes of any girl he knew.

Then with a lurch that rolled the sleeping men, the train screeched to a stop. Everyone was up, wanting to know what had happened. As they piled out of the boxcars, looking up and down the tracks, Richard noted the sun was just coming up in the east. They were in a wide green valley, flanked by steep wooded mountain sides.

Suddenly there was the sharp crack of a rifle. Then others in rapid succession. Someone was yelling up ahead. Everyone quickly dove under the cars to the other side of the rail bed. The soldier next to Richard muttered "Sabatours!" After the initial volley of fire, which was only about 8 or 10 shots, silence reigned except for someone moaning further up the tracks.

Then a lieutenant called for a group of armed soldiers to follow him up the hillside from where the shots had come. The rest watched as they snaked their way up the slope, using every bush and tree for cover. Finally, the officer turned and waved an all clear. The group started back down the hill. As they reached the train, everyone gathered around them, keeping a wary eye on the hill. The officer said, "Long gone. Had some horses tied in back of those cedars. This was planned out."

The train's engineer, who had just strode up agreed, "You bet it was. They blowed the bridge over Little Cainy Creek. If we had been on time, we would have got here in the dark and I wouldn't have seen it in time. We would have wrecked, sure"! The lieutenant ask, "Can we cross?" The engineer replied, "In a couple days maybe. You boys best seek yourselves another way. We're 'bout 14, maybe 15 miles from Greensboro."

The lieutenant looked at everybody. He ask, "How many of you men are headed for Col. McCullum's Virginia Regulars?" Richard held up his hand. Looking right and left he saw that there were close to a hundred men doing likewise. The lieutenant said, "Men get your gear and fall in behind me." Then he ask, "Who's the ranking officer of the rest of you?" After a moment, another lieutenant stepped out and said, "Well, I guess I am. Lieutenant Sam Beaumont, at your service." The first lieutenant said, "Well Sam, get these fellows in order. Find out where they're headed. Put someone in charge of each group and let's get moving."

Lieutenant Beaumont ask, "And your name sir?" "J. P. Schulenberg of Tupelo Mississippi", he replied. Lieutenant Beaumont said, "I admire the way you went up that hill. That took nerve." Lieutenant Schulenberg answered, "Admire the men who followed without question." With that, everyone was organized into two columns and marched to the creek. The water was only about waist deep, but seemed like ice water at 7:30am.

The two columns marched side by side until they reached a road crossing. Richard's column swung left headed north, the other continued on eastward. Soon after parting, Lieutenant Schulenberg picked four men out of ranks, sending them on ahead with orders to find some food. In about an hour, one soldier came back toward them, having found a farm ahead. The farmer had agreed to give up a calf and some chickens in return for payment. The other three soldiers had continued on.

The soldier led the column to the farm. A pretty place with an old white frame house. The farmer had already caught several chickens and had tied a calf by the barn. He shook hands with Lieutenant Schulenberg and said, "Wish I had more, but times are hard." Lieutenant Schulenberg said, "Thank you sir. You help is to your country. I'll sign an affidavit for your recompense."

The lieutenant fell out 30 men at the farm. The rest, including Richard, marched on. No more having started, than one of the four scouts returned with news that he had found a store at a cross roads a couple miles ahead. The Lieutenant had also gotten this information from the farmer. In less than an hour, they had marched to the store. The Lieutenant posted some perimeter guards, and set the men at ease while he parleyed with the owner. Richard didn't trust the looks of the store owner, but everyone had something to eat. The man had shifty eyes and never looked anyone directly in the eye. His father had told him to never trust a man like that.

For the next two days, they marched and foraged for food wherever they could find it. All the men came to like and have a great respect for the Lieutenant. He seemed to do things quickly but to think everything through carefully before acting. Early on the third day of their march, they passed through Danville, Virginia. Six miles north of the town, they came to the encampment of the Virginia Regulars. Richard had arrived finally at his assigned post. Lieutenant Schulenberg dismissed the column after reporting to a Major with piercing black eyes and a great black beard, the number of men and the circumstance bringing them. The Lieutenant snapped a smart salute, did an about face and joined the the column in formation.

The Major Called a Sargent to him. He said, "Sargent Evers, see that these men are fed. see that they are assigned to units and that each man has his full equipment." The Sargent Saluted, "Yes Sir." The Major turned and walked away. Eyeing the weary men, the Sargent ask, "How many of you do not have all your equipment?" Richard held up his hand, as did most of the men. "Follow me", he said. No attention, March, etc. Just follow me.

They came to two wagons loaded with equipment and several piles of equipment on the ground. The Sargent said, "If you don't have a rifle, get one here. Each man needs a magazine with 40 cartridges, cleaning patches, dead round extractor, a bayonet, a canteen, nipple pick and oil. Some of these rifles are Zouaves captured from the Yanks. Make sure you have the right cartridges. The Yank's use white paper, ours are brown. The Yank rifles can use our cartridges. But you'll have a devil of a time loading theirs in an Enfield. If you aren't sure, ask."

Richard went to the back of the second wagon. He pulled a rifle from the stack. Looking at the lock plate, he read "Enfield No.8, made in Birmingham, England, Caliber .577." Looking around in the jumbled mess, he found a magazine about half full. Retrieving this, he decided to look in one of the piles of stuff on the ground. He managed to find enough cartridges to fill his magazine, then swung it over his shoulder by the strap. He also looked for a bayonet for the rife, but was unable to find one. After more than a month in the army, he finally had a rifle. But, he wondered, is it loaded?

The Sargent seemed to be reading his thoughts. He said, "You be careful with those rifles. Some may be loaded. To tell whether or not there is a load in it, run the ramrod down the muzzle. If there is one inch of the rod above the muzzle when she hits bottom, it's empty." Richard ran the ramrod down the muzzle. When it touched bottom, there was about two and a half inches sticking out. The Sargent was watching him, and reached for his rifle. The Sargent said, "Now watch. This rifle is loaded." Removing the ramrod, he said, "Check the ram rod for traces of dirt or anything in the barrel. Then check to see if there is a cap on the nipple. If not, take a tube from your magazine and cap it like this."

Although Richard's rifle had a cap in place, the Sargent drew the hammer back to half cock and popped it off with his fingernail. He reached and pulled a brass tube from Richard's magazine. He said, "Put the flared end of the tube over the nipple. With your thumb, pull backward on this slide. That releases a cap over the nipple. Turn lose the slide and push down gently with the tube. That will seat the cap on the nipple. If you have one of the Yankee Zouaves, it works the same except you gently push the cap onto the nipple and pull the tube sideways. The new cap goes through a slot in the side of the tube."

Handing the tube back to Richard, he turned facing the west, away from the encampment. The Sargent said, "Raise the rifle to about 45degrees and fire", and the rifle roared. "Then tonight you can clean the rifle. If any rifle doesn't fire, keep the barrel pointed upward and call me. The reason for this is, these rifles were picked up off the field and may have been damp." It gave Richard a funny feeling to know that the rifle he had just got had belonged to a soldier who was likely now dead.

Richard was quartered with Company A, Troop D. All the men were told to get some rest after their 60 mile march. Company A's Master Sargent, Calvin Ritter called a general formation the next morning of all the soldiers who had not completed their training and placed them in a squad under the command of a Sargent Biggs to complete their training. Sargent Biggs knew his stuff and intended to see that the recruits under him did also. Over the next four days the recruits were instructed in every concieviable battle condition that could be simulated in training.

They were first instructed about their weapons. The Confederate Army's issue rifle was the Enfield No.8, Caliber .577. This rifle was a single shot, muzzle loading rifle, which fired a 550 grain soft lead bullet of the Minnie design. A hollow base projectile slightly smaller than the bore size to facilitate loading. When fired, the 60 Grain powder charge expanded the bullet's base into tight contact with the rifleing grooves in the barrel. The barrel had a 1:48 inch, right hand twist, which caused the bullet to spin in flight. Stabilizing the bullet like a gyroscope so that it did not tumble end over end. The maximum effective range was 600 yards, with an adjustable rear sight marked off in 100 yard increments. However the troops were taught to use "Kentucky windage and elevation" for ranges out to 300 Yards. This meant the sights were not adjusted for the first 300 Yards, instead holding the aim point above and left or right, depending on the wind and range.

Sargent Biggs said, "At 300 yards, hold twice a mans height to hit the man. At 200 yards, half a mans height. At 100 Yards, dead on. If there is a strong cross wind, at 300 Yards, allow half the man's width at his shoulders for drift of the bullet. At 200 Yards, allow the width of his head. If you are firing down hill, aim as if the target is closer than he actually is. Firing up hill, allow extra yardage. Don't be mislead gentlemen, At 600 yards, this weapon can completely remove an arm or leg if the bullet strikes bone and it can kill at 1,000 yards.

Some of you have captured rifles. These are Caliber .58. You can use standard issue cartridges in them. But if you have an Enfield, don't use Yankee cartridges unless they are all you have. With a clean bore, the .58's will load ok, but after a few rounds powder foul the bore, you won't be able to ram the load home."

The cartridges were carried in the magazine, which was a leather box with metal reinforced corners and a pocket in which cap tubes were carried. Another snap down pocket, on the back, held cleaning materials for the rifle. The tubes each held 20 percussion caps. Tiny copper things shaped like little top hats. Each carried a pellet of fulminate of mercury held in place by a piece of foil and fit over the gun's nipple like a hat on a man's head. The fulminate of mercury would detonate from being struck by the guns hammer, sending a spark through the nipple into the powder charge. The tubes had a small hole in the upper end by which a soldier could carry it on a string around his neck. Thus freeing his hands to fire and load.

The cartridges for this monster, were paper. Like two little paper sacks, one inside the other. The outer held the bullet with the sack containing the powder behind it. The soldier bit off the end containing the powder, poured the powder down the muzzle. Then stuffed the paper into the muzzle, with the minnie ball on top. Then the load was rammed home with the ramrod. The paper behind the projectile served as a seal to prevent the expanding gas from the burning powder from escaping around the bullet until it had expanded into the riflings. When the load was seated and ramrod withdrawn, the nipple was capped and the rifle was ready to fire. Sargent Biggs told the men that a well trained soldier could keep up a sustained rate of fire of three rounds per minute.

They were taught to fire and load standing, kneeling, prone and charging or running forward. How to fire in volleys to give cover for advancement or withdrawal. How to set an ambush so that fire would be concentrated for most effect. How to keep their weapons clean and ready and dry.

They then spent several days learning to ride. Everyone thought that was foolish. Of course they all knew how to ride! So they thought. The first time Sargent Biggs had them perform a charge eight abreast, it looked more like a circus act. But in a few days they began to look like professionals.

After two weeks of this, Sargent Biggs appeared one morning, handing each man a paper to be folded and inserted into his pay book. It promoted each to private grade 2. Then the Sargent said, "Your training is over." He then called out each man's name, assigning him to a permanent unit. Richard and several others were to stay in Company A, Troop D. As men began moving about, some gathering up packs to go to another unit, Sargent Biggs called out, "As I call your names, fall in to my right. Allen, Anderson, Chaffey, Dickson..", and so on until there were 15 men in the formation. Then he told them, "Get your equipment, draw horses, and meet in front of Major Stewart's headquarters in 30 minutes." He turned and left. Each man hurried to do as he was told.

Richard drew a big roan horse, saddled and tied his roll behind the cantle and went to Major Stewart's headquarters tent. Finally there were about forty men waiting in front of the tent, when the Major strode out. Everyone snapped to attention. He said, "The Yanks are moving men and artillery north of the Shenandoah Valley. We are going to establish a line of observation post to keep tabs on their movements." He paused, then ask, "Who is senior non com?" From the far left end of the formation, came a voice recognized, "Here sir! Sargent Allen Biggs, Sir!" Richard had not seen Sargent Biggs join the group. The Major motioned Biggs to follow him into the tent, calling "At ease, remain as you are", as he ducked under the tent flap.

After about five minutes, both men emerged from within the tent. Biggs had a peculiar look on his face. The Major said, "Men, your capable Sargent has been promoted to First Lieutenant. He will be in charge of your march to New Market. There is a farm there, where you will be able to eat and rest before taking your post. I shall join you after a day or so. Mount up and God speed." With that he turned to the new Lieutenant and saluted. Lieutenant Biggs snapped a salute in response, and called to the troop, "Mount!"

The march north toward the Shenandoah took three days, arriving at Mr. Thomas Hicks farm just north of New Market at 10:00am, the third morning. The countryside was as beautiful as any Richard had ever seen. The war seemed far removed here in this peaceful valley. The march had been hard going for the horses, but both men and horses were rested by the fourth morning of April 7.

Lieutenant Biggs woke the men early, telling them to keep quiet. The men had a hot breakfast prepared by Mrs. Hicks, during the night. Afterwards, Mr. Hicks led the way to his barn before daylight fully broke. With Lieutenant Biggs helping, each man was given several days rations, taken from the bed of a wagon inside the barn.

Lieutenant Biggs said, "We can't stay here. We'll give ourselves away to spies for sure. Mr. Hicks and one of his neighbors will take eight two man teams up near the river. When they show you a watch point, two men will detach and conceal yourselves so that you can command a view of the far river bank. One man watches, one sleeps. You will keep one horse saddled and ready at all times. If you see any activity from the enemy, one of you will report back here immediately. The other man will hold his post until relieved or action on the part of the enemy prompts you report it here. As soon as your report has been given to the man in charge here, you are to ride back to your partner. Understood?"

Everyone nodded. The Lieutenant said, "If it should happen that the second man has to leave his post, he will give warning to each post between him and this farm, of what condition caused him to leave. You will be relieved after a few days, whenever conditions permit. I will take the remainder of the men into the woods east of here and set up a concealed camp. There will always be two men stationed here at the farm. You will report to these men."

One lookout post was to be south of here. Two men were to watch the river crossing at Harrisburg for any sign of enemy movement. If the Yankees were observed, they were to sound the alarm and the ferry sacked to prevent an easy crossing. A group of locals in Harrisburg had kerosene and powder to blow up and burn the ferry in the event the Yankees tried to use it. A tall thin civilian gentleman was ready to lead two men to a lookout point above the town. Lieutenant Biggs chose two men to go with him, and they left.

Richard was chosen as one of the remaining lookouts, who were selected, it seemed from where one was standing at the moment. Lieutenant Biggs thrust a pair of brass binoculars into his hands.

The fourteen lookouts, the two civilians and a Corporal Sanders, all got their mounts and began moving north in the early morning sunshine. They traveled away from the river and the road, moving through the wooded areas and around farm houses, veering in toward the river to post a lookout. This was where the civilian's knowledge of the country side was most important. This part of Virginia was filled with northern sympathizers and spies who were posing as locals, although the general population of western Virginia were among the staunchest supporters of the Confederacy.

Once mounted, the group proceeded north paralleling the River and the Harrisburg road. About every two miles, they would move toward the river to a spot the civilians said would do for an observation post, drop off two men, then head north again. Shortly after noon, the remaining four lookouts, the Corporal and civilians moved again towards the river. Crossing, what had last year been a corn field, Mr. hicks let down a couple bars of a rail fence. They moved silently into the woods as he replaced the rails. Just a short distance through the woods brought them to the Harrisburg road. Checking both directions, the other civilian, a Mr. Slover, motioned for two men to cross. Corporal Sanders said, "That's Riordan and Chaffey here."

Richard and Private Sam Riordan moved swiftly across the road and into a stand of pines. Richard knew the tall black bearded Riordan from camp. He was a quiet and serious man. Richard had gotten along well with him. As they came to the edge of the pines, they saw the Shenandoah River before them. The ground, sloping gently downward to the steep river bank some 200 yards away, was covered in thick weeds, a few small pines and willows. The opposite bank appeared to be much the same. If anyone came boldly riding down the bank, they would be easily visible. But if one wanted concealment, there was plenty of cover on either bank.

There was a much thicker stand of willows on their left. Riordan said, "Those willows will make good cover for our horses". Richard replied, "Yes, and that big 'ol pine just back of us will do just fine for our lookout post. It will be easy to climb and give us good cover and high enough we can see over these small trees between us and the river."

So the two men sat about making their camp. Sam led both horses to the thick willows and hobbled them. Richard's big roan, they left saddled, as per orders. Sam's horse was a smaller dun colored mare with a white blotch on her withers. Richard shinnied up the big pine. Finding a comfortable fork in which to sit, he scanned the far bank with the pair of binoculars issued to them. He could make out birds flying in the brush on the far bank, but nothing else moved. Sam called up to him softly, "You want first watch"? Richard shrugged, then nodded. Sam said, "Six on and six off"? Again Richard nodded. Sam then unrolled his blanket and prepared to lay down under the pine. "Keep an eye on the horses", he called up to Richard. Richard nodded, then grinned, "Night, night". Something akin to "Grumpht", was the reply.

It was a beautiful day. Birds were singing, telling the world "To wake up!, It's spring!" Trees were budded out. And the lazy river rolled it's green surface northward, as if to say, "Yes, but I have seen it all many times before". Occasionally, Richard could see a fish jump in the river below. He wished that there were no war and that he could just simply go fishing in the river. But he was acutely aware that there was a war and that he had a duty to perform in it. But all afternoon, until the sun settled in the tall pines across the river, not a soul was to be seen.

The horses grazed in several acres formed by the willows nearest the river and the pines nearest the road. No one would ever see them unless they happened through the pines just at that spot. Once Richard had heard the sounds of a wagon or coach going south on the Harrisburg road. That was all that broke the stillness.

As darkness started to creep out of the afternoon shadows, Richard climbed down from the pine and woke Riordan. He went then to change the saddle from his roan to Sam's mare. Then he went back to get something to eat from his pack. Sam had headed off into the bushes, answering the call of nature. Upon returning, he too, retrieved some dried beef and hard tack from his roll, slung his rifle and started to climb the pine as Richard passed him the binoculars.

After he had eaten, Richard rolled into his blanket and tried to sleep. He had difficulty getting to sleep. Images of home, his Dad and Mom, kept floating in his mind. The news said that the Yankees were pushing south into Tennessee, and that the Southern forces were scrambling to stop them. It was a very short distance from the Tennessee line to Sand Mountain where he lived. Finally amid this turmoil, he dozed of to sleep.

Richard was awakened by a green pine cone thumbing him in the back. Startled, he rolled from his blanket, coming to his feet with his rifle ready. Silence. No, not complete silence he thought. In the distance he could hear something. A jingle and the sound of horses. Looking up into the pine, Richard saw Sam motioning him to climb up the tree. Hurredily, Richard slung his rifle and went up the tree. When he reached the fork where Sam was, Riordan said, "Something is going on over there!" Listening carefully, Richard could hear what sounded like wagons moving. A lot of them. Taking the binoculars, he peered across the river. There was a quarter moon and no clouds, so the binoculars were able to pick up the details of the far river bank and the stand of tall pines behind it. But there was no motion to be seen.

After about 20 minutes the sounds faded into the distance to their south. Sam looked at Richard and ask, "What do you think?" Richard was silent for a moment, then he said, "First, it could be the Yanks have drove Gilmore's troops eastward across the mountains and that's them trying to join up with Longstreet, or second, it could be a Yankee push trying to cross the river at Harrisburg and sweep south toward Danville. And I don't think the first very likely". Sam replied, "Neither do I."

With that they both climbed down from the pine. Richard said, "You ride to Hicks farm, I'll stay and watch". He didn't know why he said it. He just did. Sam nodded, and gathering up his roll, headed toward his horse. Sam said, "I be back, or someone will". "Take care", Richard replied, and Sam rode off into the night.

Bringing the roan closer up to the point between the pines and willows, Richard heaved his saddle onto the roan, leaving the cinch loose. He hung the bridal from the saddle horn, then returned to his post in the big pine. Although he kept careful watch on the far bank, there was no further indication of movement. Toward dawn, he dozed off to sleep, waking when the bright morning sun struck him in the face. Carefully scanning the far bank with the binoculars, he saw no movement. Climbing down, he had breakfast consisting of dried beef, and some cornbread muffins made by Mrs. Hicks. Then he went to check on the roan, answer nature's call and went back toward the pine. On the way, he found some sweet shrubs. Picking two or three of the sweet smelling buds, he put them in his shirt pocket, and climbed back to his perch. The country side remained quiet. Richard half expected to see a barge full of Yankees coming down the river, but the only thing moving were the birds and a couple foxes near the river bank.

Then about 10:00am, he caught motion from the corner of his eye on this side of the river. Swinging the binoculars south along the river bank, Richard saw something that momentarily froze his heart. There were three Yankee troopers riding toward him from the south. They were still a half mile distant. Hurredily, Richard dropped from the pine and ran to the roan. Slipping the bit into the horse's mouth, he pushed the bridle over his ears and fastened the chin strap. Pulling the cinch tight, he then led the roan up into the pines behind his lookout post, and tied on his blanket roll behind the cantle.

Taking the binoculars again he climbed the pine, just far enough to see the Yankees. If they continued as they were, they would pass between him and the river. Then they all stopped. Milled about for a moment. Then one threw his arm up and pointed toward the pines where Richard was at. They knew! They knew he was here! What could this mean? Obviously, the column he and Sam had heard the night before, had somehow managed to foil the attempt to destroy the ferry at Harrisburg and had crossed the Shenandoah. Some spy must have somehow gotten on to the outpost sentries and informed the Yankees. Too late to do any good here.

Richard dropped from the pine and caught up the roan. Mounting, he headed toward the Harrisburg road, away from the Yankees. But then he immediately pulled the horse to a halt. There were sounds coming from in front of him. Horses running and a shout or two. The Yankees had men coming in from the road. The only way left to him was north along the river. So turning the roan north, he set spurs to the horse's flanks, and put him into a run. Behind him, he now heard shouts. He had been spotted by the men coming through the woods.

Richard leaned over the horse's neck, urging him onward. If the horse tripped in this brush, it would all be over. Behind him now, he heard more yelling, then the crack of several rifles. He heard the zing of a bullet passing close by his head. Then something hit Richard in the back, knocking him from the horse. He landed in a heap in some weeds, as the horse galloped on. What had happened? For a dazed moment he felt nothing, then pain, the likes of which he had never known washed over him, and he realized he had been shot. He could hear the horses of his pursuers nearing, and looked around for his rifle. It lay some two or three feet ahead of him in the weeds. He reached for it, but it was beyond his reach. Then he realized he could not feel his legs. He could not push himself toward the rifle with his feet.

The Yankees had now reached him, and drew up their horses, shouting for him to hold up his hands. Richard was lying face down in the weeds, and held up his hands as well as he could. He heard footsteps coming near, and saw a bearded man in a tattered blue uniform pointing a rifle at him. The man said, "Don't move Reb". Another man caught Richard by the shoulder, turning him over on the ground. Richard felt pain shoot all through him, the sky spun, and mercifully, he passed out.

He regained consciousness slowly and painfully. He became aware that someone was holding him by the shoulders. And someone was wrapping something around him. His shirt had been opened so that the wrapping could be placed around him. Feebly, he called for them to stop. "Now just take it easy son. We're trying to help you". Then the arm came into his view again passing what he now could see was a bandage around him. The arm had a blue sleeve on it. Then the soothing voice said again, "I have something to give you for the pain". The voice moved around in front of Richard, and he saw a man well past middle age, with captains bars and surgeon's insignia on his uniform. He took a bottle of brown liquid and a spoon from a leather bag near by. He said, "I'm Dr. Burgess, and I'm going to give you a healthy dose of laudanum. It won't stop the pain, but it will make it bearable".

Richard was watching the man intently now. He ask the Doctor, "Am I going to be sent to a prison"? The doctor stopped his actions and looked directly into Richard's eyes. He said, "Thats what I thought when they told they had a wounded Reb down here. I was going to patch you up and they'd haul you off to a prison camp. But you aren't going to prison". The doctor poured a large spoon of the foul smelling medicine, and placed it to Richard's mouth. The Doctor said "Swallow". The stuff tasted awful, so Richard supposed it must be good medicine. The Doctor then continued, "The bullet that hit you broke your back, then passed on through your lower abdomen, exiting just above your belt. In effect, you've been gut shot".

Richard felt numb from the shock of this news. He was in a lot of pain and he couldn't move his legs, but surely he wasn't going to die. Was he? Richard ask the Doctor, "Am I going to die"? The doctor answered, "Yes I am afraid so, and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. When a man's intestines are ripped open, infection soon follows and eventually death. Someday, hopefully, we will be able to prevent that. You may have several hours of pure misery ahead of you".

The doctor was gathering up his bandages an scissors and putting everything in the leather case. Richard felt desperate now, "Thats it then? You are just going to leave me here? I'm young and strong, I can overcome this! I don't want to die"! The Doctor swung back around, persecuted by the unavoidable guilt of what he was having to do and said, "You are as well off here as anywhere. If we try to move you, it would kill you and serve no purpose. Make up your mind about it young man, you are dying and there is nothing anyone can do about it. If I could save your life, I'd walk through hell-fire itself. No matter if you are blue or gray. But I can't change what is to be". He turned and strode to a waiting horse, mounted and without looking back, rode off.

Richard then felt someone release his shoulders, propping him against a shoemake tree. Until then he had not even released someone still held him. As the man moved into Richard's view, he saw that the man was a Corporal, with yellow stripes on the blue sleeves. The man took a tattered envelope and a stubby pencil from his tunic. Without looking Richard in the eye, he ask, "What's your name soldier"? Richard replied, "Richard Eugene Chaffey, Private second class, Confederates States Army". The Corporal ask, "Your age and where are you from"? "18, I'm from Guntersville, Ala.", replied Richard. The Corporal ask, "Any folks there"? Richard replied, "My Mom and Dad, Naiomi and Clark Chaffey".

The Corporal stood up and said as he put the envelope back in his tunic pocket, "We'll try to get word to your folks". Richard nodded in response. His head felt fuzzy. Guess that laudanum was working. The Corporal walked a short distance to his horse, taking something from his bed roll. Then he turned and came back to Richard. The Corporal said, "We aren't supposed to do this, but sometimes the situation demands you do something", and he laid a revolver down next to Richard. It took Richard a moment to realize the significance of this act. But by that time the Corporal was striding back to his horse. He mounted and without looking back, rode into the pines.

Richard had never felt so alone. The kind of loneliness that comes not from being by oneself, but from being deserted by mankind itself. Al right, so he was dying, still if he could only have one person to talk to until then. But there was no one. Just the gentle Virginia breeze singing through the trees, and the smell of the sweet shrub buds in his pocket. And God, he thought. God was always with us. And he prayed to God with all his heart, that his mother and father should not suffer because of him. And as Richard had made his peace with God several years before, he prayed to God that he was ready to be taken, and he prayed that God not forsake him.

Richard did not remember going to sleep, only waking up. The pain was almost more than human spirit could endure. He realized then that the Doctor had given him enough of the Laudanum to put him to sleep and that now it's effects had worn off. He cried out, biting through his bottom lip. And what was that awful stench? After a while he realized it was his stomach wound producing the stench. "Oh dear God, no, I can't bear this!" Then he remembered the pistol. He thought, "God, I know it is a sin to take one's own life, but I cannot endure this punishment". It was late afternoon, and the sun was still up, but he was having great difficulty seeing. He groped feebly for the gun. Finally his hand found it. He lifted it into his lap. The gun felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. Finally he managed to pull the hammer back to full cock. Then he tried to raise the gun to his head. But the gun fell right then left. He did not have the strength to raise the gun! Finally it tumbled back to the ground. Richard screamed with the pain.

It took almost two more hours for Richard to die. Finally the screaming stopped, replaced by groans, then finally silence except for the gentle Virginia breeze singing in the pines. The date was April 8, 1862. He never fired a shot in combat. He never felt the "Glory" of war. He received no medals. He was a soldier who served his country to the best of his ability.

On April 30, a group of Union ambulances lumbered across a wooden bridge in a little Virginia town. It was met by a group of Confederate ambulances. A prisoner exchange took place. All the soldiers exchanged had been wounded in some way. Finally, a Union Doctor in the lead ambulance, past middle age and wearing Captain bars got to the ground and strode over to the lead Confederate ambulance. He handed to the Confederate Doctor an envelope with a list of names. The Confederate officer did the same. On opening the envelope, the Confederate officer saw most of the names were "Unknown". Near the middle of the second page was, "Richard Eugene Chaffey, Guntersville, Ala., Mother-Naomi Chaffey, Father-Clark Chaffey, Killed in action, Shenandoah Valley, April 8, 1862".