Confederate Veteran – January 1905

The following paper was read before the Granbury Chapter of the U.D.C., at Granbury, Tex., by Mrs. Annie S. McKinnon, of Tascosa, Tex.:

“This is the story as it was told by the veteran himself. It was in an unsuccessful attempt to capture Fort Butler, near the little village of Donaldsville, in Louisiana, that Samuel Hancock Smith was captured. He was shot from the parapet, and received a terrible wound. It was two o’clock in the morning of June 28, 1863, when he was shot. The Federals placed him on an old sailcloth beside a dead comrade of theirs, and there lie lay from 8 a.m. until 3 p.m., covered by thousands of flies. Finally, after piteous pleadings, the Yankees carried him to a tent, and he was placed beside the dying body of a major of the Confederate army. This gentleman, by the way, was a member of an old Virginia family of gentle birth and wealthy. While in his death agony, the poor boy twitching convulsively as if struggling to hold the noble spirit, human vultures appeared, tearing the ring from his finger, the gold buttons from his shirt, and rifling his pockets.

“You can imagine the condition of the wounded soldier who received no medical attention from the day he was wounded, the 28th, until the 30th. They thought his would was fatal, and momentarily expected the end. On the 29th the prisoners were started by water to New Orleans, arriving there the following evening.

“With the rest of the wounded Mr. Smith was put in the prison hospital, and remained there five months before, and remained there five months before he became convalescent. His life was due to that grandest body of women that ever lived, the ‘women of the Confederacy.” Those that dwelt in the beautiful, quaint old city of New Orleans were ceaseless and untiring in their efforts to alleviate the sufferings of their soldier boys in New Orleans prisons. All the wiles of the feminine heart, all the arts of a woman’s nature, were brought into play. One beautiful lady (her picture is a treasured possession) claimed Smith as her nephew and a young lady as cousin, so they got to visit him daily, taking to him fruit and other delicacies. But for a water bed furnished by the ladies of the city he would have surely have died. This kept down inflammation, and he lay on it three months. As soon as he was able to sit up he was taken to the prison house proper (the old customhouse), where the prisoners were herded together, many in a room. Their beds were filthy blankets, and their fare was bread, water, and said to the ‘mule meat.’

“Mr. Smith was once placed in a cell in solitary confinement for infringement of prison rules…In the cell he was fed on bread and water, with one good meal for Sunday. Here he stayed three weeks.

“The following incident may offend the delicate sensibilities of some, but it serves to illustrate the soldier’s loyalty, and more especially love for fun, even under the prison’s shadow. A cavalry recruiting officer came at several different times, his special purpose being to persuade them to desert. He painted glowing pictures of the fine horses they would have to ride, the clothes they would wear, the food given to eat, and the bounty offered by President Lincoln. But the boys got tired of it. They swore at him and made sport of him, but all to no purpose. So, to quote their own words, they ‘lay for him,’ and tobacco juice was the watchword. Several of the boys became interested in his story, and asked all sorts of questions. How elated he felt when such a crowd gathered around! He already had visions of promotion. It was winter, and he had on a heavy army overcoat. The boys behind chewed vigorously, and expectorated unerringly always at some point on that overcoat. He waxed eloquent, the boys in front grew feverish, and the boys behind never missed an aim. Tobacco juice actually trickled from the Federal cavalryman’s overcoat as he made his most unceremonious exit, never to return.

“The young lady who had called Mr. Smith ‘cousin’ in the hospital had not forgotten him. She and ‘Aunt Sallie,’ the elderly lady, came often to the regular prison. One day she seemed a bit nervous; her hoop skirts stood out even more stiffly than usual. When she went away there was a rope of sufficient length to reach the pavement stowed safely up the fire flue. The terribly injured back and one useless arm precluded all hope of escape to Mr. Smith. Fifteen or twenty fellows got away, however. The last fell when about halfway down, and was rendered insensible.

“There was a second siege of hospital life for Mr. Smith; he took smallpox, and was in the hospital five weeks. Finally came welcome news that there was to be an exchange of prisoners. With a number of others Mr. Smith was put on board the steamer Polar Star at the rear of Bank’s fleet. They steamed up the Mississippi into the Red River. When not far below Mansfield the news came of Bank’s defeat, and the boat was reversed and started back to New Orleans. Mr. Smith and a comrade named Snell resolved on escape or death. It was nine o’clock at night when they made a dash for liberty. Snell went overboard first, and the guard was taken so by surprise that when he fired at Snell the bullet fell short of the mark; Smith then knocked the gun up and jumped. The guard thought he had shot Mr. Smith through and reported him dead. A comrade watching the affair thought so too, until meeting him at the U.C.V. at Dallas. With only one arm, he could do but little swimming. He relied on floating, but was so exhausted and nearly strangled when he reached the shore that he could not pull himself out. Fortunately, his comrade was near and rescued him.

“Then came nine days of weary wandering and almost starvation. They were in the jayhawker strip, with Yankees all about. There were lagoons to traverse, with their cypress knees, mud, and water. Their first help was from an old man at a little cabin. He had little to give, but told them to travel only at night and to hide in the deepest, darkest thickets in daytime. They grew so weak, stiff, and sore that the time came when the wounded man was the stronger. Their food was principally the young shoots and twigs of trees. In an old, deserted cabin they found a bacon rind and a few ears of corn, and on these they feasted. Finally they came to a cabin, where they got a good meal, and the woman directed them to a settlement six miles away. There they found one of their recruiting officers, and he sent them to their old command at McNutt Hill. On the eleventh day after their escape they walked up to their commanding officer. Mr. Smith had been reported dead, lost from the Polar Star. The officer, Capt. John W. Squires, threw up his hands and exclaimed: ‘My God! can this be Sam Smith?”

Samuel Hancock Smith was born August 17, 1842 and died December 9, 1906. He was buried in Acton Cemetery in Hood County, Texas.

~ Web Page by Virginia Hale ~

Confederate Veteran – January 1905

2001 HOOD COUNTY TEXAS GENEALOGICAL SOCIETY