o cross
the creek. On my taking the rope off he shook himself and seemed to say,
"You think that you are mighty smart folks, but you are a leetle too
smart." I gave it up that that mule's "no" was a little stronger than my
determination. He seemed to be in deep meditation. I got on him again,
when all of a sudden he lifted his head, pricked up his ears, began to
champ his bit, gave a little squeal, got a little faster, and finally
into a gallop and then a run. He seemed all at once to have remembered
or to have forgotten something, and was now making up for lost time.
With all my pulling and seesawing and strength I could not stop him until
he brought up with me at Corinth, Mississippi.

CHAPTER III

CORINTH

Well, here we were, again "reorganizing," and after our lax discipline
on the road to and from Virginia, and after a big battle, which always
disorganizes an army, what wonder is it that some men had to be shot,
merely for discipline's sake? And what wonder that General Bragg's name
became a terror to deserters and evil doers? Men were shot by scores,
and no wonder the army had to be reorganized. Soldiers had enlisted for
twelve months only, and had faithfully complied with their volunteer
obligations; the terms for which they had enlisted had expired, and they
naturally looked upon it that they had a right to go home. They had
done their duty faithfully and well. They wanted to see their families;
in fact, wanted to go home anyhow. War had become a reality; they were
tired of it. A law had been passed by the Confederate States Congress
called the conscript act. A soldier had no right to volunteer and to
choose the branch of service he preferred. He was conscripted.

From this time on till the end of the war, a soldier was simply a machine,
a conscript. It was mighty rough on rebels. We cursed the war, we
cursed Bragg, we cursed the Southern Confederacy. All our pride and
valor had gone, and we were sick of war and the Southern Confederacy.

A law was made by the Confederate States Congress about this time
allowing every person who owned twenty negroes to go home. It gave us
the blues; we wanted twenty negroes. Negro property suddenly became very
valuable, and there was raised the howl of "rich man's war, poor man's
fight." The glory of the war, the glory of the South, the glory and the
pride of our volunteers had no charms for the conscript.

We were directed to re-elect our offic