My worst fears have came to pass, our town has fallen under Yankee control! It breaks my heart to see our streets crowded with blue bellies. They have been very demanding and acting in ways unfitting any gentleman. One of their officers came up to me at my washtubs and asked me if I was doing laundry for those southern boys. I replied that I had to do laundry for anyone who could afford to pay, as I was a poor widow woman all alone and had to make a living. He said that he didn’t want to hear about that. If he caught me doing laundry for them, he would have all the clean laundry pulled from my clothesline and thrown into the dirt and my washtubs destroyed. And when he ask again if I was doing laundry for any southern boys, all he wanted to hear was “No Sir”. Well I was scared of him. I had broke my back a washing them clothes. So, I says ‘No Sir’. All the while thinking to myself, ‘You stand there on Texas soil, talking to a southern woman, who do you think I’m doing laundry for, you Yankee scum!’ What is the world a coming too when a lady has to say ‘Sir’ to a varmint like that. I pray that our troops will arrive soon and save us from these vile invaders. As the sun sets and night falls, I must place my faith in the good lord above and the Confederate army.

Widow Brock

14th day of March 1864

I awoke this morning to the sound of rain on the roof. It has been raining for days and I’m afraid that if it don’t stop soon, the creek will rise and make it impossible for our boys to cross. All we can do is keep praying for help from the Confederate army. Since the Yankees came, we live in fear that every day could be our last. It seems that they will be our demise one way or the other, with a bullet now, or starve to death later. They have been looting our shops and farms, and there are few supplies left. If they come back into town tomorrow, they will most assured find the remaining hidden supplies.

By mid-morning the rain had let up enough that I went out to try and get some wash done. As I was filling my washtubs, out of the corner of my eye, I saw what looked like Confederate troops approaching town. As they came closer, I could see that they were a group of local boys. Praise the Lord help had arrived at last! They entered the town with their muskets loaded and ready to fight. When the shooting started, I ducked down behind my washtubs. As I hid there, I could see my neighbors and my neighbors’ sons being shot down before my eyes. When the fighting stopped, I ran over to the bodies in the street to see if I could be any help to the wounded or comfort to the dying. As I knelt beside the body of my neighbor’s young son, I overheard the Yankees talking about setting fire to the town! There was also talk of several ‘spies’ that had been executed. Later I learned that the ‘spies’ were some of our finest southern gentlemen which included our Preacher!

Not more than a couple of hours later, our town was indeed set ablaze. As we worked to put out the fire, another group of Rebels appeared. Right out in the front of their line was a Gatling Gun. The Yankees took off a running when they saw that. But they stopped at the edge of town and began regrouping. Our troops followed them into the fields at the edge of town. Then began a battle that lasted several hours before the officers of both armies meet to arrange a cease fire so that the wounded could be removed from the battlefield. When the shooting stopped and it got quite, you could hear the cries of the wounded, pleading for help to ease their suffering. The fields were covered with bodies, some wounded, some dying and the rest died. We ladies ran onto the field to help. Our only surgeon had taken ill days before. So, there was little medical help available. But we did have a nurse with a little medical knowledge. The wounded were moved into a building in town where they could be treated the best we were able. All the ladies worked tending the poor souls until the wee hours of the night. As I lay myself down to rest that night, I wept as I listened to cries from the poor suffering men. I prayed to the Lord for strength. There is no telling what horrors tomorrow will bring.

Widow Brock

15th day of March 1864

As I arose this morning, I noticed the sun rising, the rain had finally stopped. Hopefully this was a sign of good things to come. I hurriedly dressed, to check on the wounded before church. The other ladies and I tried to make them as comfortable as possible. We had lost several men over the night. If there was more fighting, there would be more wounded. We worried; where would we put any more men, our 'hospital' was full and how would we care for so many poor souls.

I hated to leave the wounded, but felt that I needed to attend church to pray with my neighbors for the fighting to stop. The church was completely full, not an empty space on any of the pews. The chaplain from one of the Confederate cavalry unites presented the sermon. The Yankees had taken our own preacher the day before. The town was quite during church. As we left, we noticed that the Yankees had come back and taken over the town!

The heartless devils set fire to our town again! Thanks to the good Lord and the drenching rain, the buildings were soaked and the fire was easily extinguished. More Confederate troops had arrived over night and seemed to have the Yankees out numbered. They soon ran the blue bellies out of town! But they again stopped at the edge of town and regrouped. Our boys followed them into the fields. After what seemed like a lifetime, the shooting stopped. We ladies ran on the field again to check the bodies, to see if we could help any of the poor souls. The first I came to was a young boy who was badly wounded. There was nothing that I could do to save him, but I knelt down beside him to comfort him. As he lay dying, he cried for his mother. I looked up through my tears over the battlefield covered with bodies at our town. In the distance I could see the Confederate flag flying once again over the town. We had won the battle, but at a very high price, with the lives of our neighbors and friends!

The armies have both gone, to fight again another day on another battlefield. We, the citizens of Chisholm Fork, were left to pick up the pieces, rebuild our town and bury the dead.

Widow Brock

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