Mark King Interesting War Experiences
Narrow Escape #41
Ironton Register – August 25, 1887
Submitted by Linda Adkins
“Hello, Mark. Have you read any of the “Narrow Escapes” published in the Register?”
“Yes, and I like to read them, too.”
“What Regiment were you in?”
“Company G 2nd WV Cavalry.”
“Tell us one of your “Narrow Escapes.” I suppose you had plenty of them while you were soldiering.”
“Yes, every day we were in the army was narrow enough for me. But are you going to publish it in the Register?”
“Well, you want nothing but the truth, so here it goes. About the middle of September 1862, companies A and G were encamped near Raleigh Courthouse, WV. The paymaster had just paid us one of his most welcome visits. So, to make a long story short, five or six of my comrades saddled our horses for a stroll out in the country.
“As we rode along talking about dear ones at home, in old Lawrence County, [Ohio], a halt was called when everyone pulled out his turnip (you know every soldier carried some old watch), and when they were compared, it was found, as usual, no two were alike. But, on looking at the sun, we supposed it was close to noon.
“One of the party’s spoke up, “What do you say, boys, to a good old country dinner?” All agreed, but the question was where to get it. We had not proceeded very far when smoke was seen curling skyward from behind one of the foothills. With a cry of ‘there is a place where somebody lives,’ we advanced rapidly and soon pulled up at one of those old Virginia log houses with the porch running the full length of the front part.
“On the porch stood an old lady and three younger ones, which we afterward found out were her daughters, and which constituted the family. They seemed very frightened. We told them we meant no hard; only wanted something to eat and were willing to pay for it. Chairs were brought out on the porch, and we were asked to be seated. While the girls disappeared to get dinner, the old lady set to entertain us. She was very inquisitive, asking all our names, where we came from, whose command we belonged to, and did we write regularly to our mothers. She said she had two boys in the C.S.A., and when they were home, they talked just like we did, — if we were Yankees.
“One of the girls now appeared and announced dinner was ready, but before we sat down, the old lady came in carrying in one hand a long-necked bottle and in the other a small glass. “Boys,” said she, “when my boys were at home, I heard them tell about how the soldiers would do anything to get whiskey. Here is some I had in the house before the war commended, and I will treat you’uns.” So we all took a dram. We ate our dinners and resumed our places on the porch. In a little while, Comrade B asked the old lady for some more liquor, at the same time pulling out his pocketbook and offering to pay for it. She refused, claiming that she needed the rest to make camphor.
“The boys insisted, then she said she would give us just one more drink. That was drinking to the health of the young ladies present. I saw that the boys were getting hilarious when Biddle Y. jumped up to propose a drink to the health of our friends in old Lawrence. I took in the situation and told the woman to let them have it, and I would try to get them to go to camp. So glass #3 was drunk with numerous shaking hands, especially with the girls. So, I succeeded in getting the boys on their horses, and we started for camp, but the nearer we got to camp, the drunker they went, and with camp in sight, they raised the yell, put spurs to the horses and went pell-mell over camp kettles, cooking utensils, and tents, creating the biggest kind of surprise.
“Captain G. called to arrest them while demanding to know where they got their whiskey. “Found a cave full,” shouted Biddle Y. “Found a mountain distillery,” said Al. H. “Never mind taking them to the guard house. Put them in my tent. I will attend to them,” said the Captain, “when they are sober.”
“Now I saw from the start that it was going to be the deuce to pay, so I quietly slipped into camp and went to my tent, no one suspecting me to have been one of the party. Mike M. came into the tent, said that the officers and some of the chums were hitching up the Company team to go and get the liquor that those boys had found and keep it for themselves, then said Mike, “I would just give my head to know where it is.” When Tommy B. looking at me, said, “Mark, where were you that you were not here to eat dinner today?” I told him I had been out with the boys that found the whiskey. “And were you along?” said Mike. “Yes,” I said. Soon there was a council held in our mess, and it was decided that Mike, J.G., and myself, as a guide, were to get out in advance of the squad waiting to get the boys sober.
“Now there was a creek between the camp and Raleigh, where we used to water our horses, so we mounted our horses, pretending to go to water them at the creek, where we were met by some boys, with canteens each of them loaded up with as many as he could carry. So making a circuit, we struck out for the pike and being mounted on as fine a lot of horses as ever bore the U.S. Brand, we soon left camp far behind. The sun was sinking behind the mountain peak when we galloped over the fence, not stopping to notice three men occupied the porch, but they disappeared, and we gave them no more thought. The old lady and the girls came out and were almost frightened to death by our reappearance.
” Throwing myself from my horse and beckoning the old woman, I said, “My good woman, I am afraid your kindness to the boys today will get you into trouble. The boys you gave the whiskey to went into camp very drunk and shot three or four of our comrades, and the officers are on their way out here to your house, and if they find — liquor about your premises, they will burn down your house, and send your family as prisoners of war to Camp Chase. One of the girls overhearing the conversation clapped her hands and commenced to scream, “Mother, spill it, spill it.” “Leave that to us,” said Mike, “don’t spill a drop of it, but show us where it is, and we will take it away, and when they come, let them search if they want to.” Give it to them, mother, give it to them,” said one of the girls.
“This way,” cries the old lady, going through the house and up through a cornfield, and there under a projecting rock, we saw what seemed to be a cave with massive wooden doors. The girl pulled open the door and, going in, returned with a six-gallon demijohn. We filled our canteens out of it, taking the big jug over the brow of the hill and hiding it in a wheat field. Then mounting our horses, away we went back to the camp. It was getting later in the evening, and we had a much longer ride, having taken another road to escape the squad of officers. Looking over our shoulders, we could see a fierce storm of thunder and lightning approaching from the west. We urged our horses to the top of their speed.
“Approaching the gap in the mountain, through which the road ran, we were surprised to be confronted from both sides by twenty-five to thirty men, armed to the teeth and commanding us to surrender. Quick as a flash, we drew our sabers. Mike M., sinking his spurs into his horse’s flank, says, “come on, boys” we followed, making a dash to go through the gap. Then the rebs bounded into the middle of the road in front of us. We cut right and left, and they banged away with their old squirrel rifles, tearing three canteens from my sides.
“One old fellow grabbed my bridle lines, and another stood on the bank and struck me across the arm with the barrel of his gun, nearly breaking it. I cut the fellow loose from my horse and slashed the other across the head with my saber, clearing me of their clutches and a happier man. Barring losing three canteens, I never entered the camp happier than I did. I had several hand-to-hand encounters during my four years in the army, but none in which I came so nearing my life as that one. The scenes in our mess that night, the result of the whisky secured by that raid – the less said, the better!
“If the members of my Company are as good citizens as they were soldiers, Lawrence County, [Ohio], need never be ashamed of them, notwithstanding the whiskey episode mentioned in the foregoing “Narrow Escape.”
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