The Confederate Soldier
The following article appeared in Volume I, No. 12, of the Confederate Veteran, Dec. 1893
Nearly thirty-three years have passed since the alarm of war called from their peaceful
pursuits the citizens who were to make name and fame as Confederate soldiers. The stirring
scenes and the dreadful carnage of a memorable conflict have been removed by the lapse of
time into the hazy past, and a new generation, however ready it may be to honor those who
fought the battles of the South, is likely to form its idea of their appearance from the
conventional military types.
The Confederate soldier was not an ordinary soldier, either in appearance or character.
With your permission I will undertake to draw a portrait of him as he really appeared in
the hard service of privation and danger.
A face browned by exposure and heavily bearded, or for some weeks unshaven, begrimed with
dust and sweat, and marked here and there with the darker stains of powder - a face whose
stolid and even melancholy composure is easily broken into ripples of good humor or
quickly flushed in the fervor and abandon of the charge; a frame tough and sinewy, and
trained by hardship to surprising powers of endurance; a form, the shapeliness of which is
hidden by its encumberments, suggesting in its careless and unaffected pose a languorous
indisposition to exertion, yet a latent, lion-like strength and a terrible energy of
action when aroused. Around the upper part of the face is a fringe of unkempt hair, and
above this an old wool hat, worn and
weather-beaten, the flaccid brim of which falls limp upon the shoulders behind, and is
folded back in front against the elongated and crumpled crown. Over a soiled shirt, which
is unbuttoned and button less at the collar, is a ragged gray jacket which does not reach
to the hips, with sleeves some inches too short. Below this trousers of a nondescript
color, without form and almost void, are held in place by a leather belt, to which is
attached the cartridge box that rests above the right hip, and the bayonet scabbard which
dangles on the left. Just above the ankles each trouser leg is tied closely to the limb --
a la Zouave -- and beneath reaches of dirty socks disappear in a pair of badly used and
curiously contorted shoes. Between the jacket and the waistband of the trousers, or the
supporting belt, there appears a puffy display of cotton shirt which works out further
with every hitch made by Johnny in his effort to keep his pantaloons in place. Across his
body from his left shoulder there is a roll of threadbare blanket, the ends tied together
resting on or falling below the right hip. This blanket is Johnny's bed. Whenever he
arises he takes up his bed and walks. Within this roll is a shirt, his only extra article
of clothing. In action the blanket roll is thrown further back, and the cartridge box is
drawn forward, frequently in front of the body. From the right shoulder, across the body,
pass two straps, one cloth the other leather, making a cross with blanket roll on breast
and hack. These straps support respectively a greasy cloth haversack and a flannel-covered
canteen, captured from the Yankees. Attached to the haversack strap is a tin cup, while in
addition to some other odds and ends of camp trumpery, there hangs over his back a frying
pan, an invaluable utensil with which the soldier would be loth to part.
With his trusty gun in hand -- an Enfield rifle, also captured from the enemy and
substituted for the old flint-lock musket or the shotgun with which he was originally
armed -- Johnny Reb, thus imperfectly sketched, stands in his shreds and patches a
marvelous ensemble -- picturesque, grotesque, unique -- the model citizen soldier, the
military hero of the nineteenth century.
There is none of the tinsel of the trappings of the professional about him.
From an esthetic military point of view he must appear a sorry looking soldier. But Johnny
is not one of your dress parade soldiers. He doesn't care a copper whether anybody likes
his looks or not. He is the most independent soldier that ever belonged to an organized
army. He has respect for authority, and he cheerfully submits to discipline, because he
sees the necessity of organization to effect the best results, but he maintains his
individual autonomy, as it were, and never surrenders his sense of personal pride and
responsibility. He is thoroughly tractable if properly officered, and is always ready to
obey necessary orders, but he is quick to resent any official incivility, and is a high
private who feels, and is, every inch as good as a General. He may appear ludicrous enough
on a display occasion of the holiday pomp and splendor of war, but place him where duty
calls, in the imminent deadly breach or the perilous charge and none in all the armies of
the earth can claim a higher rank or prouder record. He may be outre and ill-fashioned in
dress, but he has sublimated his poverty and rags.
The worn and faded gray jacket, glorified by valor and stained with the life blood of its
wearer, becomes, in its immortality of association, a more splendid vestment than mail of
medieval knight or the rarest robe of royalty. That old, weather-beaten slouched hat, seen
as the ages will see it, with its halo of fire, through the smoke of battle, is a kinglier
covering than a crown.
Half clad, half armed, often half fed, without money and without price, the Confederate
soldier fought against the resources of the world.
When at last his flag was furled and his arms were grounded in defeat, the cause for which
he had struggled was lost, but he had won the faceless victory of soldiership.
Some Kin who fought for the Confederacy
Drury Davis
Winborn Davis
Joseph Piland