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Bushwhacker JohnstonMilus Johnston's role in the Civil War is almost a mirror image of the conflict in this region. Like most of the citizens of North Alabama, Johnston opposed secession from the Union. Once war became a reality, however, the residents were caught up in a situation not of their own making. Reverend Milus Eddings Johnston, Methodist Episcopal Church, South, was just one of the many peaceful citizens who would be driven to fight by the short-sighted retaliatory policy of the Union commanders who occupied the area. Nearly forty years old and the sole support of a large family, he had no desire to take part in the armed struggle. But, as he describes in the following narrative: God never yet made a man to be slobbered on always by dogs. - Charles Rice During the years 1860-61 the writer was on the Madison Circuit attending to his own business, and that business was preaching the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. As he went, he not only prayed for individual sinners, but also for the entire nation. And his honest conviction is, that he never preached more earnestly for the salvation of the human soul than he pleaded with God to preserve the Union of the States. We conclude at the start that the writer being a minister of the gospel and professing to have been called to that work, the reader would like to know how he came to be connected with the Confederate Army. You shall see it in as plain English as he can command. A battle had been fought at Fishing Creek, Kentucky, on the 19th of January, where the Confederates were defeated. Fort Henry, on the Tennessee river, and Fort Donelson, on the Cumberland river, having been captured by the Federals soon after, the Confederates fell back to Nashville, Tennessee. At this time the writer was in Lincoln County, Tennessee, having in charge the Fayetteville Circuit, and also Fayetteville Station, as the pastor of the latter had left and joined the Confederate army. Soon after this General Albert Sidney Johnston, who commanded the Confederate forces in the West, fell back upon Corinth, Mississippi, near where was fought the great battle of Shiloh, in which the Confederate commander was killed. It is believed by many that if General Johnston had not fallen, the main part of General Grant s army would have been captured. But as the latter was reinforced that night and the next morning, the Confederates were forced to fall back and give up all the advantage they had gained. Fayetteville being on the direct road from Nashville to Huntsville, it was exposed to the invasion of the Federals at any time. So the writer, being in Fayetteville, one day after the Confederates had departed looked across Elk river in the direction of Huntsville and saw a considerable smoke rising. Presently, there came an old citizen of the neighborhood on a bareback horse, riding at full speed, and exclaiming at the top of his voice, Get your guns! Get your gun s! A Yankee has burnt a wagon load of meat! And off he bolted for his gun. In a few minutes the town was full of Yankees. We suppose that General Mitchel, who was in command, had ordered a move on Huntsville. Immediately a number of the citizens were placed under arrest, the writer being among them, and from that time on the Yankees arrested him whenever they got in seeing, hearing, or smelling distance of him. That is, when they could. He was kept in custody until he slipped the pickets. The pickets were placed on a rise along the road running west. From their position they had full view down the little valley that made off toward the river. The writer not being pleased with his company, concluded that he would take leave of absence and go to see his wife, who was then boarding four miles below. No sooner said than done, off he put. Reaching the lower part of town, he found the open valley hard to be crossed without detection. He picked up a rough stick, then humped himself up, and crept along, as if he had been down with the rheumatism for the last ten years. As soon as the valley was cleared the stick was thrown down, and you have better believe there was some double- quicking done, until we reached our home, which was outside the picket line. Then we hunted the nearest way to get somewhere else. Mitchel soon moved on towards Huntsville, leaving behind a regiment and a provost marshal in Fayetteville. But before he reached Huntsville, the citizens there, hearing the Yankees were coming, raised a company, armed themselves, and went forth to meet them. We suppose they thought they would give them a bit of a scare. But when they met Mitchel s men a few miles out of town, the Huntsville boys were all taken in. The citizen soldiers told the Yankees that they were hunting a fellow who had stolen a horse and buggy the night before. Mitchel s men answered that they were hunting for some fellows who had stolen a few States out of the Union long since. The writer did not remain long at home, as he I should have done, but was actually green enough to go up to the Yankees and ask them to renew his license to preach. Or in other words, asked for a permit to attend to his appointments civilly without being molested by their pickets. Before reaching the pickets he put his horse in a stable belonging to a family with whom he was well acquainted. But upon reaching the picket he was not allowed to pass, remaining with them, talking freely and telling them the object of his mission, and that he was a Methodist preacher. While talking an officer was seen approaching with a squad of soldiers. The picket remarked, Yonder comes the Colonel now. When he comes up if you will speak to him, he will attend to your business for you. As soon as the officer reached the proper point the visitor said, Good morning, Colonel! The colonel replied, in a broad and flat manner, Good morning, sir! Then the visitor said, Colonel, I have come to see you this morning to get a permit, that I may attend my appointments civilly without being molested by your pickets. I will attend to your business when I come back, sir, replied the colonel as he rode off, placing his pickets beyond and hedging the visitor. On returning the colonel reined up his horse, but still moving slowly, and said, What business did you say you had with me, sir? The visitor repeated his request. Then the Colonel replied, You can preach in town on Sunday, sir! But my appointment is in the village of Mulberry next Sunday. I say you can preach in town on Sunday, sir! And away went the colonel. But in a few minutes a squadron of men returned and took the visitor into town, a prisoner. He was carried before the provost marshal, who proved to be the same whom he had met at the picket line before. There, in a very abrupt manner, he was asked a multitude of questions, and treated as contemptuously as a cur puppy. For the sake of feelings, we forbear giving the name of that provost. Suffice it to say that he fell in the battle of Perryville. It is reasonable to suppose that the writer did not shed many tears when he heard the news, on account of the way he had been treated by that officer. One thing is certain, he rubbed a few drops of secession blood into our constitution. The writer asked the colonel if he intended to confine him, or would he allow him some liberty. You are at liberty to walk about the town, sir, he replied. The prisoner then left the office in disgust. Moving out, he found the streets filled with Federal soldiers, and some of them disposed to talk freely about present surroundings. When one of them remarked that Every dog has his day, the prisoner, having his Irish blood stirred, replied, That may be so, in a general sense, but my opinion is that there are more dogs at the present time than there are days. While thus hedged up in town, the writer s horse was taken out of the stable three times and appropriated to the Federal use. The man who took the horse was chaplain of the regiment then occupying the town, and belonged to the Methodist Episcopal church. So said the soldiers. Such acts as this they call pressing, but Southern gentlemen call it stealing. We wouldn t give the name of the man, if we knew it, for we do not wish to wound the feelings of any one at this late date. Our friends finally succeeded in getting the horse back to the stable. The time had now come for some of the troops to move southward. Hence the picket whose post was near the house was called in. We were then standing on the pavement when the pickets passed, and the officer in charge threw up his hand and said, The way is now open to your horse. On learning that the horse could be reached, the prisoner again gave the enemy the slip and went home to his wife. It was evident that there was no chance to preach in peace. Therefore, husband and wife seated themselves in a buggy and rolled out southward through Madison county, Alabama, avoiding Federal pickets along the journey, until they reached the home of the wife s father, in the southeast corner of said county. On arriving home, we found there was no chance to preach the gospel. And having no disposition to go into the army, and most of the brothers-in-law having enlisted, the writer went to work, intending to take care of his family to the best of his ability. But lo and behold, he was not allowed to make a living by honest labor. On came the Federal army, laying waste to everything in their path, driving off hogs, cattle, horses and mules, arresting citizens, and shooting innocent men who had never been connected with the Confederate army, and abusing women and burning houses. Before they seemed to be satisfied, they burned our family out three times, taking everything we had indoors and out. Even the boots from the writers feet were stolen. Not satisfied yet, they ran him three days and nights to take him individually and particularly, but failed to do so. He crossed the Tennessee river at the mouth of Paint Rock river, being sent over by some of Colonel Roddy's men. The writer recollects distinctly to this day that upon reaching the south bank of the river he called a halt and about faced, and staightening himself up, he looked northward and said: "Boys, I have come to the conclusion that God never yet made a man to be slobbered over by dogs; hence I'm going to give those fellows a turn - the best turn I can get into the hopper!" Immediately I went to the Confederate authorities and was commissioned an officer, and sent back inside Federal lines to raise troops. |
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