William T. Sherman 1875 Brevet Major George Ward Nichols New York 1865

Sherman Marches to the Sea

[1864]

V

Fancy a ragged man, blackened by smoke, mounted on a scrawny mule without a saddle, with a gun, a knapsack, a butcher knife and a plug hat, stealing his way far nut on the flanks of a column. Keen on the scent of Rebels, or bacon, or silver spoons, or corn, or anything valuable, and he will be in your mind. Think how you would smile when he pried open your chests with his bayonet or knocked to pieces your tables, pianos and chairs, tore your bed clothing in three-inch strips and scattered the strips about the yard. Color is no protection from these rough riders. They go through a Negro cabin with just as much vivacity as they loot the dwelling of a wealthy planter. They appear to be possessed of a spirit of pure cussedness.

One incident of many will illustrate. A bummer stepped into a house and inquired for sorghum. The lady of the house presented a jug which he said was too heavy, so he merely filled his canteen. Then, taking a huge wad of tobacco from his mouth, he thrust it into the jug. The lady inquired why he spoiled that which he did not want. "Oh, some feller’ll come along and taste that sorghum and think you’ve poisoned him; then he’ll burn your damned old house." There are hundreds of these mounted men, and they go everywhere. Some of them are loaded down with silverware, gold coin and other valuables. I hazard nothing in saying that three-fifths (in value) of the personal property of the country we passed through was taken.