John Porter Fort

A Memorial
and
Personal Reminiscences

as told to and compiled by
Martha Fannin Fort (Anderson)


First Printing:
The Knickerbocker Press
New York
1918

Internet Version:
The Friends of Mountain Hall, Inc.
A Georgia Non-profit Corporation for Public Benefit
May 26, 1995

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THE FOREWORD
The reminiscences of his life and work were dictated to me by my father during the summer of 1916. He touched only upon the main events. There are countless unmentioned things that would add to this story of a wonderfully full life, but I leave it just as he told it to me as we sat together on the porch, or in the library by the open wood fire. To these I have added a few tributes and some clippings from Georgia newspapers.

MARTHA FANNIN FORT

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

IN MEMORY OF JOHN PORTER FORT
THE WORK OF JOHN P. FORT
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES
AFTER THE WAR
LOG OF THE WELL OF JOHN P. FORT
FRUIT GROWING IN NORTH GEORGIA
EXTRACTS FROM THE NEWSPAPERS IN THE STATE OF GEORGIA





IN MEMORY OF JOHN PORTER FORT

The sweep of the sky at eventide
That melts within the majesty of pine;
The hush that breathes serenity of space
Where summer twilights linger long
In benediction;
Beauty of leaf and bird,
Of blossom and star,
Of sea and furrowed lands,
Of storm that cracks the mountain peak to flame;-
These were his soul which reaching held the universe
Within the circle of his brotherhood.
To their haunts they called him,-
Note of thrush
And wild heart of the trees.
Their 'mid glooms of cypress brooding moss
And lakes of ebon pearl,
With shy would denizens and mist of boughs
He met his God.
Day beckoned him, and forth among the fields
He stepped and sowed his spirit.
That man might eat and live and "thank the Lord,
Giver of all good gifts."
And as of old did Jacob dig a well,
And Moses smite to life the desert rock,
So with prophetic eye
He saw the hidden rivers of the earth,
And brought forth drink,
Praising the kind Beneficence" who fills
All nature with his plenteousness,"
Flashing anew the ensign of his life
That "man is made to overcome the world."
Years speed on and still his soul unfurled
From out of the snowy petals of his dreams,
Still buds burst greening from his pruning hook
And little children smiled
In answer to the welcome of his voice.
While from the sky
The titmouse came,
Leaving her nest and company of wings
To perch upon the friendship of his hands.
And so
Through victory of his spirit barrens bloom
And earth unlocks her prisoned waters,
And places that he knew are touched with light
As from diffused transcendence of his life
And hallowed by the passing of his feet.

KATE FORT CODINGTON

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[Editorial from "The Constitution," Atlanta, Ga., Sunday, February 18, 1917]

THE WORK OF JOHN P. FORT
"No man of his day accomplished more in the nature of everlasting benefit for the state in which he lived than the late John P. Fort did for Georgia.

He was a man of vision-a dreamer-but with the energy and the faith and the resourcefulness to push ahead, explore his vision, and make his dreams come true; and in doing of which he made of himself a notable public benefactor.

Especially thankful should south Georgia be for the very revolutionizing of the health conditions of that section which he did so much to bring about.

South Georgia was once afflicted with a malarial condition which seriously impaired the many advantages of that part of the state. The development of the country had been held back through generation after generation, despite its fertility and adaptability to agriculture, simply because of malarial conditions.

John P. Fort turned his attention to the problem. "Its the water," he said. And he set himself the task of finding a remedy.

With no guide save his reason and determination, he managed somehow to bore a hole into the earth more than five hundred feet deep; and was rewarded by a stream of pure, life-giving water. That was Georgia's first artesian well; and, as he says in a remarkable letter to Alfred C. Newell, written in October, 1907, and reproduced in the magazine section of this issue of The Constitution:

"The well has furnished drinking water during the summer time mostly for a circular area of ten or more miles in diameter for twenty-six years, parties coming in wagons with utensils to convey the water away for drinking purposes."

That well, still flowing undiminished, proved the rejuvenation of south Georgia. It was followed by the boring of hundreds of others, and the result is that today residents of South Georgia are as free from the taint of malaria as are those of "the hills of Habersham."

The genius of the man again was manifested when, sensing the possibilities of the timber resources of south Georgia swamp, always before his day looked upon as worthless and inaccessible, he managed to get capital interested, and, under his guiding hand, the cypress lumber production of the state became one of its great industries.

What he did for the fruit-especially the apple-industry in north Georgia to every man and at all conversant with the state's development. A lake in the southern part of the state covered acres of fertile soil. Generation after generation of men had found no means of drainage. Fort found one. He studied the geological formation of the country, applied the knowledge he had gained by his artesian well operations, and reasoned that probably the lake could be drained-as no man ever had drained a lake before-from beneath. So he exploited his theory, bored a hole straight downward into the center of the lake; and the waters ran out, leaving the bed ready for the plow.

"The inhabitants of the pond were left on the muddy bottom," he writes to Mr. Newell, "among which was a large alligator. A strange and wonderful sight to behold!"

And thus he spent his useful, constructive, busy life; doing original-often daring-things, all for the good of mankind and the development of his country.

It is exceedingly gratifying too, that, unlike most men whose names illuminate the pages of our history, Fort lived to see his good works, or many of them, fructify. He was honored in life, and was appreciated for what he had done; but with the passing of time that appreciation of him and his life work will grow, and the future generations will honor and revere his name, it is safe to predict, more pronouncedly even than do we who were contemporaneous with him.

As time goes on undoubtedly the real greatness, the constructive genius of Fort will become even more generally recognized than it is to-day. The value of his great service to the community will become more apparent in the future than it has in the past; and he, in the sphere of practical scientific achievement and agricultural and industrial development, will be given rank in history along with Sidney Lanier, in poetry; Alexander H. Stephens, in politics; and LeConte in science."

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PERSONAL REMINISCENCES

My father, Dr. Tomlinson Fort, was born in Burke County, Georgia, July 14, 1787. He was the son of Arthur Fort, who was a soldier in the Revolutionary War and a prominent man in the pioneer days of Georgia. My father studied medicine at the Philadelphia Medical College under the famous Dr. Rush to whose memory he was ever attached. He returned to Georgia settling at Milledgeville, then the capital of the State. He had a large medical practice, the most extensive in middle Georgia, which he kept up until ill health forced him to retire only a short while before his death in 1859. He represented his county twelve years in the State legislature, and his district two years in Congress. He was for years president of the State Bank and trustee of the University of Georgia. He then retired from political life. He served as a captain in the War of 1812, and was severely wounded while fighting against the indians in Florida. Had he lived until the Civil War I am sure that he would have opposed succession. He was strong for the Union, and much opposed to negro slavery. I remember him say that he could never look upon his slaves, which were about fifteen or twenty, with any degree of satisfaction. He was a quite, grave man of great sobriety and learning. For general information I have never met his equal. He had the confidence of all that knew him, the love of family and friends. He was a most kind and sympathetic father. He was the greatest man I have ever known.

My mother, before her marriage in 1824, was Miss Martha Low Fannin of the Fannin family of Georgia. She was a woman of great charm and of great strength of mind and heart. She had a large family-thirteen children-nine of whom lived to be grown. Her household consisted of ten or eleven servants. Ours was an open house, friends and relatives always coming and going. Mother was a busy woman, and a very economical one, knitting our stockings and making our cloth caps. She loved her children devotedly, which love was returned by them.

I was born in Milledgeville, August 16, 1841; there I passed my boyhood and youth. My early education was at a common school. The school was carried on under the principle of the lash. It was thought necessary to force knowledge by whipping. A child missing two words in a lesson was usually whipped. My first teacher was an Englishman named White. His invariable rule was to whip a pupil found not studying his lesson. In one of my first reading lessons I had to repeat "As high as the sky" in a peculiar singing manner, which I could not do to please him. He stood over me with a hickory; I was only a little boy, seven or eight, and I was frightened. At last I said it in a way that suited him. He then grabbed me up, put me on his shoulder, and marched around the room. Our next teacher, Little, also whipped for the slightest offense. One day after school hours several boys, among whom was I, went to the school house and for revenge broke up the furniture. Fights between the teachers and larger boys were the natural outcome of such system.

When a boy I was very fond of the woods and streams, and everything connected with nature. My father took great pains to instruct me in these matters, and in talking to him and asking questions, I obtained a large insight into nature-much more than is usual with my boys of my years.

I was interested specially in birds. I remember that a couple of bluebirds built their nest in a hole in a mulberry tree that grew in the yard. One day I announced that the young had hatched, as I could here their chirpings when the parent birds approached the nest. No one else could hear them and I was blindfolded to prove my statement, which I successfully did. I timed the visits of the old birds. On the average, once in twelve minutes a worm or some insect was brought to the young. At about that time I had a small collection of birds which I had skinned and stuffed. These I kept in my room. One day an old gentleman, Mr. Armstrong, who was visiting in our house, when told of my fondness for birds, said to me, "Young man, I have never known anyone with an interest in such things who ever amounted to anything." I was greatly mortified by this harsh criticism, and made of a bonfire of my birds. My mind and temperament from childhood have been those of a naturalist.

Milledgeville is on the Oconee River at the mouth of Fishing Creek. Swimming was the favorite sport with the boys of the town. I was in the water a great deal and was a fine swimmer. To give an incident I remember well: a boyhood friend, Joe Bell, was drowning; I caught him by the hair and pulled him out, thus saving his life. At a later time he saved mine in the following manner: During the Civil War, in a mix-up in a swamp, we were fired upon by some of our own men. Just as one of them had his gun leveled on me, his officer, who was Joe Bell, recognized me and threw up the man's gun. We were quits.

When sixteen years of age I entered the Freshman class of Oglethorpe College. This was a Presbyterian school, situated at a little town called Midway, about two miles from Milledgeville. The president of the college was Rev. Samuel Talmadge, an eminent Presbyterian divine. Two members of the faculty, Mr. James Woodrow, Professor of Chemistry, and Mr. Charles Lane, Professor of Mathematics, were living until a few years ago. I walked to and from college for four years, carrying my dinner bucket. There were usually five or ten of us walking together. I remember on one of these walks killing a dove with a throw of my Latin grammar. There were two literary societies at college, the Phi Deltas and Thalians. I was president of the Phi Delta during my senior year, but I never took a high stand in my class, as I was not a student. I was more fond of nature. Especially during vacations, I was in fields and woods with rod and gun, and became a proficient sportsman.

Two of my classmates are still living, Samuel Quarterman and his brother Pratt. Sam lives near Albany, Georgia, and Pratt in Quincy, Florida. Sidney Lanier, Georgia's most distinguished poet, was in my class. I remember him as a slender young man of medium height, light hair, hazel eyes, and aquiline features-an ideal picture of the poet and musician he afterwards proved to be. I do not remember that he was especially studious or wrote poetry while at college. I do remember, however, his proficiency playing the flute. The strains of melody brought forth from this little instrument dwell with me until now. Lanier learned so easily that he carried off first honors in his class. Later we renewed friendship of college days. I remember going with him to Brunswick, Georgia, and viewing with him the broad marshes, which inspired his celebrated poem, The Marshes of Glynn.

College days came to a close, and I began the study of law in the office of Mr. William McKinley in Milledgeville. I was not old enough to vote, but I was an ardent follower of Stephen A. Douglas in the presidential election of 1860. And because of this was called by the boys at college the "Little Giant" although I, in no way, resembled him in stature. I took a lively interest in the stirring events of the time. The question of negro slavery usurped the place of all other questions. Then came John Brown's raid which created an incredible excitement. No "Free Soilers" like Horace Greeley or William Lloyd Garrison dared visit the South for fear of actual violence. Then came the succession of South Carolina, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida. Georgia felt in honor bound to follow. Then came the inauguration of President Lincoln and the firing on Fort Sumter.

The proclamation of Mr. Lincoln calling for volunteers to overrun the South consolidated the people of Georgia, and as one man we offered our services in defense of our homes. The excitement was intense. I know my father, if he had been alive, would have opposed succession. Although she greatly disapproved of war and succession my mother did not put a veto on her three sons going. On the night that Georgia succeeded all of the houses in Milledgeville were illuminated except ours.

All my strongest feelings were aroused. I felt called to defend my country. In May, 1861, I joined a company from my home town, called after my father's old company, the "Baldwin Volunteers." I entered as a private soldier. I was entirely ignorant of everything pertaining to military affairs. If I had known as I afterwards did the difference between the status of a soldier in the ranks and a commissioned officer, I doubtless would have aspired to, and obtained, a commission, but I refused to consider the matter at all. I preferred to handle a gun, as this appealed to me as being more in accordance with the patriotic fervor that encompassed my being. I was a slender, immature man of nineteen. It looked as if I would be unable to endure the hardships of camp life, but I soon became hardened to it, and became an efficient soldier; always up on the company's line; always up on the march; always ready for any duty. The rigor of camp life agreed me and from one hundred and thirty pounds I soon weighed one hundred and sixty.

It was the 9th of June, 1861, before arms could be obtained. Then our company was transferred to a camping ground at Atlanta, where we all duly signed articles of enlistment. We were attached to the 9th Georgia regiment. We were the first regiment to enlist for the war. All enlistments before that time had been for twelve months. The magnitude of the peril and the hardship, blood, and strife incident to our enlistment were not in the slightest anticipated. We thought it would be a short campaign. We knew nothing of the disposition of our opponents and of the bitterness and bloodshed that were to follow.

Our officers were all elected by ballot. The colonel was a Mr. Goulding, who soon dropped out. The captain of my company was Benjamin Beck of Milledgeville. I was made first corporal without asking for the position. Afterwards I was made a sergeant and acted for a while as first sergeant. I had reason to know afterwards that any office is preferable to the position of a private.

About the middle of June we were transported by rail in cattle and box- cars to Richmond, Virginia. There the regiment was drawn up in line of battle and we had our first dress parade. Our regiment was soon ordered to Strasburg, Virginia; there we disembarked from the train an commenced our march down the beautiful Shenandoah Valley to Winchester. Large wagon trains were in attendance to transport our tents and camp equipage. How great a change gradually came over our transportation department! From several wagons to a company, we were reduced eventually to one to the regiment, known as the skillet wagon, as the men kept their cooking utensils in it. Our regiment was armed with an ordinary smooth-bore musket which shot a cartridge loaded with a ball and three buckshot. By actual trial our guns with such a cartridge were only effective a short distance, and would not bear the ball and shot at direct range more than eighty yards. Our cartridges were gradually changed to one with a single ball. Each soldier carried a belt of leather around his waist to which was attached a cartridge box containing forty rounds of cartridges and a cap box with about fifty percussion caps. This musket was used up to the end of the war, although a large part of the army gradually changed for Enfield rifles, a better gun with a range two or three times as far as a muzzle loader. The Federals had an immense advantage with their superior breech-loading Spencer rifles, which carried three times as far as our rifles, and shot ten times to our one. Toward the end of the war this was equivalent to doubling the Federal force.

During our first marches our knapsacks and all camp equipment were hauled in wagons. But soon we were required to carry our knapsacks; but we eventually threw them away, and carried our clothing in a roll. The shoes I wore were splendid,-made by a shoemaker at home, and my socks had been knitted by my mother.

At Winchester we were attached to Gen. Francis S. Bartow's brigade. The army was in command of Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, who rode down our line, and I had my first sight of our commanding general. After remaining in camp at Winchester, we were ordered to march farther down the valley toward Martinsburg. Near there we were drawn up in line of battle expecting an attack. While waiting we were suddenly ordered across the valley toward Manassas Junction. We marched all night; when the sun rose not more than one-fifth of the men had reached our destination. I was among the foremost. In this connection I wish to state that I had an extraordinary endurance on long fatiguing marches. I never met a man in the army whom I thought my superior in endurance.

Our brigade waited by the railroad expecting to be transported to Bull Run. But as transportation was very limited the 9th Georgia was left behind. We could hear the roar of battle, and early next day we were upon the historic field of Bull Run, generally known as the First Battle of Manassas. We marched over the battlefield only to see the dead and wounded Federals. I saw the first dead I had ever seen. It made an impression of horror upon me that I remember to this day.

I recollect a day or two after the battle I came upon a horse, wounded in the shoulder, standing in the shade of a tree. The wound was such that he had no power to twitch or move the muscle of his shoulder to frighten the great number of horse flies which were sucking his blood. I was struck with the wise provision of nature that gives the horse the power of shaking off insects by a twitch of the skin.

General P. G. T. Beauregard, who commanded the Confederate forces, rode down our line. We gave him a cheer, and I remember crying out, "Let us go forward." My impression was the right one. If our victory had been followed up, we could easily have captured Washington, and the outcome of the war would have been very different. But we waited and gave the aroused North full time to recover from their defeat, and place large armies in the field.

While on picket duty on the hills in sight of Washington, our regiment was under fire for the first time. I remember on one occasion I had been standing with my hand upon a plank-I moved away. A second afterwards a bullet struck the plank.

We remained several months inactive in camp, losing valuable time. Camped near us was the 28th Georgia in which was my brother George as a surgeon. We were also within a few miles of the 1st Georgia Regulars, a splendid body of men, in which my brother Tomlinson was a first lieutenant. So I had the pleasure of being near and seeing my two brothers.

During the winter of 1861-1862 the hardships of camp life, caused more than anything else by bad food and water, enfeebled my health. While lifting a heavy log I sprained my back, and was ordered to a hospital in Richmond. In Richmond I met my brother George, so did not go to a hospital, but stayed with my brother, who, on account of his poor health, was forced to leave the army. The surgeon who examined me thought I was permanently disabled, so I obtained my discharge from the ranks and went home with Brother George. At home, in a few months, I partially recovered my health and insisted on again entering the army. My mother would not consent to my entering the infantry, therefore I bought me a good horse and proposed to ride down to the seacoast where I would consider the matter, as I was at that time exempt from service. But I went to Bainbridge instead, intending, with a Mr. Campbell, to organize an artillery company. But while there I met some college friends who had enlisted in a cavalry company for the coast defense. I joined them as a private and did some hard riding for three months along the Florida coast. We were stationed at Newport, which is near the mouth of the St. Mark's River in northwest Florida. This company was a finely appointed body of men. They furnished their own horses and were splendidly mounted. They were all young men of position and education. There seemed to be no distinction between the officers and men. I do not think there was mess in the company that did not have several servants to cook and wait upon its members.

I became a good rider, and before I left I was on the best in the troop. I was well mounted upon a fine horse I named "Red Robin." I exchanged this horse for one called "Flying Ant," which was considered a very vicious and dangerous animal, as she had disabled two men before I took her in charge. I simply wished to show the company that I could manage her, and I did. She was a splendid horse. On leaving the cavalry for the infantry service I sold her, including my fine cavalry saddle and equipment, to a prominent man in Quincy, Florida, for fifty-five dollars in gold, which I was to receive in a few days, but which I never did.

In January, 1863, I joined the 1st Georgia Regulars as second lieutenant of Company B. The regiment had been ordered from Virginia to Georgia to recruit its ranks. From there they were ordered to Florida near the junction of the Chattahoochee and Flint rivers, and there I joined them.

I shall not attempt to give in detail my life in this regiment-its toils and privations, marches and battles. I shall only give incidents in our campaigns that are personal, and I may often with but a line pass over long periods of time.

At the time I joined the 1st Georgia, it was commanded by Major R. A. Wayne. The colonel, and lieutenant-colonel had been disabled by wounds and illness and never rejoined the regiment. Major Wayne became colonel. He was personally one of the most fearless men I have ever known. He was a gruff man, short and peremptory in manner, in camp disliked by his officers and men, but in time of battle, especially in great danger, commanding the respect of all.

During the spring and summer of 1863 we performed picket duty along the coast near the mouth of the Appalachicola River. This was useless from a military point of view, and our ranks were more decimated by malaria than if we had been in many battles. We were under the immediate command of General Howell Cobb. I have never been able to understand why he kept us there with the daily report of sickness and death. Oh! the chills and fever-and no quinine! This medicine, so necessary in the treatment of malaria, the enemy refused to pass into our lines. Three-fourths of our men and officers were prostrated, many of them dying. It was a shameful waste of life. The memory of the sufferings in those sickly camps will remain with me always.

My brother Tomlinson was the captain in Company L in the regiment. He was a good officer, beloved of his men and respected by the officers of the command. He had been wounded twice severely, in the Virginia campaigns, on the field of Malvern Hill he was left for dead with a wound in the chest from a piece of shell, and at Second Manassas with a ball through his leg. He was carried home from our camp on the Appalachicola River so wasted with malaria, that I never expected to see him again. All the regiment were sick with this disease that summer and I felt the effects of it through the entire winter.

Early in 1864 we were ordered to march in all haste to Quincy, and from there to entrain to Lake City. We rejoiced to leave our sickly camp. Shortly before we left we were joined by a company of men, which had been raised in Savannah as a command to operate heavy artillery. They were men over fifty and boys under eighteen years of age. They presented a most unmilitary appearance in motley civilian clothes.

A large force of Federals had landed a Jacksonville and intended to march to Tallahassee and take possession of the State of Florida. Their cavalry were marching upon Lake City and were within a few miles of the city when we arrived. Our small battalion and a company of Florida cavalry were all the troops we had to receive them. About a mile from Lake City where we expected to meet the enemy we formed a line in the pine woods. Soon they were in sight, and, on seeing our skirmishers, dismounted and proceeded to attack us. It was a foggy morning and the enemy approached within seventy-five or one hundred yards before we perceived each other. I was given command of the skirmish line. I was instructed to try to draw them near to our line. Both sides commenced firing. Soon the mists rose. The enemy, seeing our line of battle, retreated with haste. They outnumbered us two to one. We lost no men. While walking along the line of skirmishers I was aware of bullets whistling near me, one going through my cap. Then I realized that the white blanket strapped to my shoulders made a target, I pulled it off and the firing, especially at me, ceased.

After this skirmish fighting our forces were joined by Colquitt's and Harrison's brigade and we marched forward at once and met the enemy on the ever memorable battlefield of Olustee. It was not the intention of our commanding officer,General Finnegan, to fight the battle where it was fought. About a mile to the rear our line of battle had been formed with a protection on one flank of Ocean Pond and a swamp on the other. A regiment was sent forward to entice the enemy to our line of defense; they became engaged and regiment after regiment was sent forward to support them until the engagement became general, resulting in a complete victory for our forces.

The battle of Olustee was fought in the open pine woods. The victory was attributed to the courage and determination of the soldiers. There were no special tactics or generalship displayed. It was simply a continuous charge of the enemy to break our irregular lines which had been formed behind logs and trees. In this strong position our regiment of one hundred and fifty men was at the extreme left, with a depression filled with logs in front. Here we remained many hours resisting every attack of the enemy, who were many times our number, to dislodge us. They were in plain view and being above us presented a fair mark. At last under shot and shell we rose and charged them. We had already withdrawn our skirmishers, so we overran their skirmish line with our line of battle. They now hastily withdrew and our victory was complete. The battle lasted from noon until night. I think it probable that we killed and wounded more men than we probably had in our command.

During the battle we were commanded by Capt. Henry A. Cannon of Wayne County, Georgia. At the beginning of the battle, after all our men were in position, I was standing within a few feet of Captain Cannon. I whispered in his ear that it was his duty to lie down, or protect himself behind a tree as I was doing. The enemy was charging in front of us, and I was satisfied no one could stand before such a fire. He refused to move, but stood with his sword drawn calling on the men to be steady. I had hardly spoken before a ball struck him. He staggered backward saying, "I am a dead man." With my left arm under him I lowered him to the ground. He died at once. He was a good officer and a brave man. We were together in the same mess. I wrote to his wife an account of his death and sent her a small amount of Confederate money that Captain Cannon had left with me. The day before the battle, while riding near a great live oak tree, he had said if he should die in battle he would like to be buried under its branches, so he was wrapped in his military cloak and buried there. In this battle I lost another friend, Lieutenant Dancy of Lake City, Florida.

At that time I had but three or four men in my company. They were tried and true soldiers and were too few to require any attention from me. So I went into the battle with the arms of a private soldier.

On hearing of the battle of Olustee my brother Tom returned to the regiment, a very ghost of his former self. He was wholly unfit for any kind of service and had to have a negro man to accompany him. Strange as it may appear, camp life seemed to agree with him and he soon reported for duty.

Our camp life in Florida's piney woods was varied with sham battles between different regiments; the men used lighted pine burrs at night as ammunition. Another entertainment was digging gophers and often a rattlesnake out of their holes. We ate the gophers and killed the snakes. I remember one rattler that measured over ten feet and whose head was as broad as my hand, to stuff its skin took a bushel of bran, and a straw was run through the hollow of its fangs. I have never before or since seen such a serpent. It came out of a gophers hole to warm in the sun and its head was cut off by an officer's sword.

The troops of both armies soon left Florida. Our regiment was partly filled up with returning invalids and recruits. We stopped at Savannah and were sent on Whitemarch Island to aid in the coast defense. There and upon Wilmington Island we performed picket duty upon an extensive scale. For a short time we were engaged in guarding a large number of Federal prisoners, who had been brought from Andersonville to be turned over tho the United States fleet stationed at the mouth of the Savannah River. The United States Government refused to exchange prisoners of war with the Confederate States. The Confederate authorities wished to avoid feeding and guarding so many prisoners. So several thousand were forced on their government on the plea of sickness, although not one in ten was really sick. These prisoners were taken down the river on flat barges. I remember their shout of joy when they saw the Stars and Stripes floating from the masts of the transports which waited to receive them.

About this time General W. T. Sherman commenced his famous march through Georgia, with nearly one hundred thousand men in his command. There was no force to oppose them. And their course was marked by fire and pillage. My mother's house in Milledgeville was robbed of everything of value. My mother and sisters fled to Macon just before this army of robbers had reached Milledgeville. All the men that could be gathered together opposed Sherman's army as it approached Savannah. Our regiment marched from Whitemarsh Island and occupied a prominent position in the breastwork of defense. General Sherman and his army confronted us and although twenty times our number they refused to attack us, although we offered them defiance for several days. General Sherman's tactics as a general was exemplified here. He opposed us with an entrenched line more than equal to ours and sent a large force to occupy our flank, thus forcing us to retreat. Our regiment of about two hundred and fifty men was commanded by Colonel R. A. Wayne, a cool, fearless, officer. I was on duty as adjutant of the regiment. We felt the hazard of our position. The rumor came alone the line that we were to be surrendered as prisoners. We were determined to resist to the utmost. Suddenly at nightfall we evacuated our entrenchments and crossed the Savannah River, leaving the city to be occupied by General Sherman and his army. It was on a bitter cold night December 23, 1864, when we crossed the river. The scene of our army at midnight crossing the river on the pontoon bridge lighted by bonfires and the excitement over the evacuation are all vividly impressed on my memory. The next morning when the sun was barely above the horizon I looked across the wide rice fields of Carolina, and saw the United States flag floating above the City Hall of Savannah. The Federal army was delighted at the capture of Savannah, especially of twenty-five thousand bales of cotton, which were stored there. Though this was private property, it was ordered shipped and sold for government account.

Our army when we left Savannah was under the command of General Hardee. It contained only about eight thousand men, mostly reserves, old men and boys. We never attempted seriously to oppose General Sherman in his march through South Carolina. The march of that army was a trail of fire and desolation. Their acts of vandalism accomplished nothing except to embitter Southern people. Pillars of smoke arising from barns and peaceful dwellings gave us notice that Sherman's army had commenced its forward march. Our little regiment was the rear- guard in nearly all of our march through the State. I shall not give in detail the various scenes and incidents connected with our marches and countermarches in front of the great Federal army, nor shall I describe the scenes of confusion among the people. We had less than ten thousand men of all arms, of these about five thousand were infantry. The enemy pursuing us had more cavalry than our entire force. We, who brought up the rear, would form in a good position and dare this cavalry to attack us. They invariably refused to do so. We were then forced to withdraw before their great force of infantry could arrive to overwhelm us. Because of exhaustion and sickness we lost probably about one-fourth of our army before we reached Augusta. We passed below Columbia, but the main body of the Federals took a direct line to South Carolina's capital with the avowed purpose of its destruction.

I will now pass over the incidents of our Carolina campaign, until we reached Cheraw on the Santee River. The enemy evidently expected that we would give them battle here, because at this point we had large commissary stores. But General Hardee had no idea of attempting battle, except skirmishes. So we used every exertion to get our army with all 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 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.

As soon as we had a safe distance between us and the enemy, an order came to send an officer from our division to Georgia to collect all soldiers possible and bring them to the army. This order was given to our regiment. Every officer except myself applied for the place. Colonel Wayne was indignant at so many applications, and ordered me to go. I at once made quick preparations to leave for Georgia. I had written orders signed by the adjutant-general of General Joseph E. Johnston's army for all authorities to forward me on my journey with all means in their power. I was aided some by the railroads, but I mostly depended upon walking, carrying a knapsack weighing twenty- nine pounds. On my journey through the Carolinas and Georgia I witnessed many scenes and incidents, some of an amusing, others of a pathetic nature. I made a remarkably quick trip. A day or so after I left the army a reorganization was made of our division. Our regiment was raised to over one thousand men. Although not present I was advanced to senior first lieutenant of the regiment. Many officers were put back into the ranks.

While on the road I heard of the surrender of General Lee. It seemed unbelievable, and I denied the report. I arrived in Macon two days before its capture by General Wilson. An organization of cavalry was hastily formed in which I was to receive an independent command and join General N. B. Forrest in Alabama. But before this could be accomplished in quick succession came General Johnston's surrender, the capture of President Davis, and the death of the Confederacy.

In conclusion, Stonewall Jackson defined war as "Death." General Sherman as "Hell." Whatever may be its definition it is always unjustifiable, inhuman, barbarous; the cause has nothing to do with the issue of the conflict. Success attends the side with resources sufficient to overcome their opponents. For the last year of the war it was the pure white flame of patriotism which alone sustained the Confederacy,-its material resources were exhausted. No valor, however great, could withstand the resources of the North sustained by immigrants from Europe. The frown of civilization was upon the institution of negro slavery and it had to go.

NOTE - At Cornelia, Georgia, on March 25, 1917, a little group of patriotic women met to organize a Chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, and when asked to select a name for the Chapter, the name of John P. Fort was suggested and unanimously adopted, the ladies being anxious to show, in some measure, their appreciation of his splendid war record and of his loyal and unselfish devotion to this section of the State since the War.

Mrs. R. L. Deck, Pres. John P. Fort Chapter, U. D. C.

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PART II - John Porter Fort - Personal Reminiscences
PART III - John Porter Fort - Personal Reminiscences