A History of Lumsden's Battery, C.S.A. — Story, Setting & Ideas

A Battery Born in a Courtroom

The battery's formation is described not as a spontaneous rally but as a formal proceeding: Judge Wm. S. Mudd announces from the bench that Sheriff Harvey H. Cribbs will resign to volunteer, and an agreement is placed on the clerk's desk for signatures. Within a week, about 200 men had signed. Captain Charles L. Lumsden, a Virginia Military Institute graduate and commandant of cadets at the University of Alabama, had been corresponding with the War Department about raising an artillery company, and the volunteers offered themselves to him. The narrative then lists early recruits by name and origin—including two brothers who left academic posts in Mississippi to join. This methodical, almost legalistic opening contrasts with the chaos of later battle scenes, giving the battery a clear documentary foundation.

Weather, Mud, and 'Hot Cush'

Recurring observations about weather and its effects on daily life form a persistent thread. During the campaign around New Hope Church and Pine Mountain, the authors note: 'we were having heavy rains every day' and 'the whole army was wet to the skin every day in June.' The practical challenge of keeping corn bread dry—and turning wet bread into 'hot cush' over a fire—is described with the same attention as tactical movements. The men 'had by this time gotton pretty tough, and looked tough, and like a set of toughs.' These details ground the narrative in the physical realities of soldiering, where mud, damp clothing, and improvised meals are as memorable as enemy fire.

Close Calls and a Fatal Shell

Several episodes illustrate the battery's exposure to accurate enemy fire. At Pine Mountain, a Federal shell explodes a limber chest being moved by Sergeant J. Mack Shivers, who escapes injury. Later, on Kennesaw Mountain, a rifle battery 'figured out our range and the very first shell burst about three feet exactly over our breastworks,' killing a man named Blackstock. A splinter marks Horace Martin's ear. Lieutenant Hargrove, observing from the bare summit, has a shell ricochet 'end over end' over his head. The authors remark dryly that it was 'fine shooting and sport for those rifle gunners'—a rare moment of wry commentary that underscores the danger without melodrama.

Movement and Memory Across Two Years

The narrative shifts frequently between positions: from New Hope Church to Lost Mountain, then to the Pine Mountain line, then to Kennesaw Mountain, and finally to Little Rinnew. Each move is accompanied by entrenching, often at night, and by the constant threat of flanking maneuvers by Sherman's army. The text's structure—alternating authors and relying on memory—means that some episodes are vivid (the shelling of a water tank, the death of General Polk) while others are compressed. The reader is made aware of the gaps: the authors write 'we have an idea' or 'we always believed,' signaling inference. This honest acknowledgment of imperfect recollection gives the history a personal, reflective quality.

Readers should note that the narrative is divided by authorship: Little's portion (1861–1863) and Maxwell's (1863–1865) may differ in tone and emphasis. The text is best approached as a collaborative memoir rather than a comprehensive official history. Pay attention to the recurring motifs of weather, entrenching, and the battery's constant movement—these are the threads that hold the story together across the two authors' distinct voices.

The rain kept drumming on the window while I read about Lumsden’s men losing their limber chest in the mud, that sudden, intimate detail of war. It reminded me how history clings to small, human things. Later, searching for something, anything, to keep that feeling, I stumbled upon Rasputin and the Russian Revolution — Reading Notes, and found the same quiet, unsettling intimacy there.