the supplies possible across the Santee River and then burn the bridge.

Our little regiment, comprising less than two hundred men, was given the dangerous duty of guarding the river until our cavalry could retire behind us and then we were to cross the bridge ourselves. Very soon we saw a dark line of horsemen among the trees. At first, we supposed that they were the enemy, but they proved to be our cavalry, about five hundred men. They came thundering down the road, crossed the bridge, and were soon in our rear. Then in the woods we saw a long line of infantry with their skirmishers in front advancing slowly to attack our skirmish line. The immediate command of our skirmishers was given to my brother, Captain Tomlinson Fort, a calm, fearless officer. I, as adjutant, was instructed by Colonel Wayne to ride along the line and to tell the men to fall back slowly before the overpowering forces of the enemy. In returning to my post beside the colonel, as was my duty, I had the narrowest escape from death or capture that occurred to me during the entire war. I was aware of the great danger I was incurring as I swiftly galloped back in front of our skirmish line along the public road to rejoin Colonel Wayne. As I emerged from the pines along the road, riding very swiftly, suddenly I came upon two or three of the enemy's skirmishers who had been firing at Colonel Wayne. I came into the main road a few steps ahead of these men. I pulled up my horse and suddenly turned to the left and at the same instant the men threw up their guns and fired. By reason of my sudden turn I feel satisfied that the balls all went in front of me. As I rode down the open road a dozen or more skirmishers had some nice target practice at me, but they did very poor shooting. A cup was cut from my haversack, I think my hair was touched, and my horse was skipped by a ball. We arrived at the bridge—with a large body of enemy skirmishers about fifty yards behind us.

The bridge, a wooden-covered structure, had been saturated with turpentine and rosin by a squad of our men who had instruction to burn it as soon as we had crossed—I was among the last to cross. The bridge was then smoking and burning, I remember being partly stifled with smoke as I entered, with difficulty forcing my horse through. The bridge burned like tinder and a few minutes after we were across the flames were fifty feet high.

After we had marched a few hundred yards, our regiment received orders to return to the bridge and see that it was entirely destroyed. I never saw a better exhibition of discipline and courage than was shown by our tired men. With no protection, and only a narrow river separating them, they turned to face a force ten times their number. Fortunately there was a natural entrenchment by the river into which we filed and which fully protected us from the enemy's fire across the river. Our situation was changed—the heavy line of enemy skirmishers was along the open river and our men who had been so long pursued were protected, so we had our revenge.

My brother Tomlinson, was stricken with a most acute case of inflammatory rheumatism and had to be carried by his men, as he did not wish to be left to fall into the hands of the enemy. After we had crossed into North Carolina I managed to have him sent in a wagon to Raleigh where he was taken care of by a kind lady, Mrs. Polk, until his recovery.

I asked our commanding colonel that I be relieved from my position as acting adjutant, and that I be assigned to command of Company L, my brother's company. It now had no commissioned officer. My request was complied with. Colonel R. A. Wayne called a meeting of the officers of the regiment and proposed that on my being relieved of my position that the thanks of the regiment be given to me. It was agreed. The regiment was drawn up in line of battle, arms were presented, and in the language of the order—"Thanks are returned to Lieutenant Fort for his coolness and courage under fire." I was much gratified at this compliment. I have the paper written in pencil by Colonel Wayne, and have preserved it for my children so as to show them that their father did not lose his presence of mind in times of great danger, and that they are the children of a Confederate soldier.

General Hardee's brigade was now joined to the army of General Joseph E. Johnston. At Bentonville, North Carolina, Johnston gathered together what forces he could, and fought the last great battle of the war. It was a bloody, indecisive battle, and ought never to have been fought. We were confronted with a force over four times our superior in number and ten times in equipment. No valor or strategy could overcome such immense odds.

On the evening of the last day our rifle pits on the extreme angle in front of our main line were captured. To recapture them a detail of ten men from each company in the brigade was made and I was detailed to lead it. It appeared a very hazardous undertaking, but we retook the pits with but little loss. I was the third man in the pits. At midnight our army retreated across the river.