Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1920-04-28
The Foragers in the Army.

After the retreat of the enemy
across Cedar Creek, in the valley of
Virginia, we returned to Fishers
Hill, a beautiful grove. It was after
a hard days march, and as soon as
we stopped the foragers struck out
right and left over the mountains on
either side to hunt up whatever they
could find in which these mountain
homes so abounded, in good, fresh
buttermilk, golden butter-the like
can only be found in the South save
in the valley of Virginia-apple but
ter, fruits of all kinds, and occasion
ally the foragers would upon keg
of good old mountain corn, apple
jack or peach brandy-a "nectar fit
for the gode," when stepped in bright
yellow honey.
These men were called "foragers"
from their habit of going through
the country, while the army was on
the march or in camp, buying up lit
tie necessaries and "wet goods" and
bringing them into camp to sell or
share with their messmates. 1t mat
tered not how long the march, how
tired they were, when halted for the
nights camp, while others would
drop down, exhausted, too tired to
even put their tents or cook a sup
per, these foragers would overcome
every obstacle, climb mountains, and
wade rivers in search of something
to eat or drink, and be back in camp
before day. In every regiment and
company you could find these fora
gers, who were great stragglers,
dropping in the rear or fanking to
the right or left among the farm
houses in search of honey, butter or
liquor of some kind. Some of these
foragers were never known to be
without whiskey during the whole
war. Where, how, or when they got
it was a sealed book to the others.
These foragers, too, when out on one
of their raids, were never very par
ticular whether the owner of the
meat or spring house, or even the
cellar, was present or not, should
they suspicion or learn from outside
parties that these places contained
that for which they were looking. Il.
at night, they would not disturb the
old man, but while some would
watch, others would be looking in
his pig pen, chicken roost, or milk
house. Someone has said ga rogue
in the army, rogue at home," but
this I deny. have known men who,
at home were as honorable, honest,
upright, and who would scorn a dis
honest act, turn out to be veteran
foragers. and rob and steal anything
they could get their hands on from
the citizens, friend or foe alike. They
grew to look upon all as "fsh for a
soldiers net" l remember the first
night on Fishers Hill, after fight
ing and marching all day, two of our
fellows crossed the Massanutton
mountain and down in the Luray val
ley, distance of ten miles or more,
and came back before day with as
unique "a load of plunder as l ever
saw.
While in one the mountain gorges
they came upon a spring house a few
hundred feet from the little cabin,
nestled and hid in one of those i'm
penetrable caves, where the owner,
no doubt, thought himself safe from
all the outside world. They had lit
tile difficulty in gaining an entrance,
but all was dark, so kneeling down
and examining the trough they found
jars of pure sweet milk, with rich,
yellow cream. This of course, they
could not carry, so they drank milk
until they didn't want milk. While
searching around for something else
that was portable, they found lots of
butter in a churn, and to their aston
ishment, a ten-gallon keg of peach
brandy. Now they were in the plight
of the man who, "when it rained
mush had no spoon" They had only
their canteens, and there was no
funnel to pour it through. But the
mother of invention, as usual, came
to their assistance. They. poured out
the milk in the jars, filled two for
each and returned over the. mountain
with jar of brandy under each
arm, and ball of butter in each
pocket.
Now that is a forager in the army,
,,,o,, lo ,-ooe