Emily Felder Porter [10492]

  General Notes:

A Reminiscence of Sherman's Raid in South Carolina
By Nelle Gardner Morgan
The following is a reproduction of an interview of a surviving member of Civil War days as told to a reporter of the Orangeburg, South Carolina Newspaper in 1923.

Retyped by S. Dixon

In Springfield, S.C., lives Mrs. Emma Porter Brodie. She was the daughter of Allan Porter, who owned a large tract of land in the Dean Swamp section above Springfield. In the mellowness of her eighty-four years, Mrs. Brodie seems to fairly radiate kindliness towards everyone.

When questioned about her recollections of the famous “Raid” which marked the closing of the Civil War, Mrs. Brodie's face beamed with interest, and, with a glint in her soft blue eyes, she replied:

“Yes, I remember quite well when the Yankees came. Our house had been accidentally burned in 1863 and we were living in one of Mr. Charlie Stroman's houses.

“General Wheeler's cavalry was passing through our section just ahead of Sherman's raid. One of Wheeler's men, a Mr. Walker from Kentucky, stopped at our house for food. He told us how Sherman's men were doing and advised us to bury our clothes. We had just butchered some fine hogs, and the pen was full of bloody shucks and litter. He dug a hole for us in this pen - we buried a box of clothing and covered the place with the trash in the pen. That box was not found when Sherman's men came.

“Father sent a colored man down the river on a raft which was loaded with bales of cotton, quilts and meat. One of the negro boys showed the Yankees where the raft was. They took all the hams and shoulders. Then the old colored man hid the rest of the meat in the swamp, but there came a very wet spell and it spoiled before Father could get in to haul it out.

“On Friday, Father and brother Nathan's wife drove our stock, about thirty head, away from home. They crossed Dean Swamp and went several miles up the creek. Next morning they came back to see if I wanted to go; but my clothes were buried, so I did not go. Father and sister went on, riding gentle mules, and drove the stock to Edgefield county, thus saving them from Wheeler's men as well as Sherman's raiders. On their way home, father found two large pones of corn bread upon a big stump - underneath it was written: 'Allan Porter.'

“Aunt Nancy Cadle and her daughter, cousin Sophronia, were taking care of the Charlie Stroman house, as the family had gone away, so I stayed with them. Cousin Sophronia and I put the china in a strong bag and put it in a row boat. I did not know how to swim, but Cousin Sophronia rowed the boat away up the pond at Dean Swamp mill, and, lowering the bag, we fastened it to an old stump. The Yanks did not get to smash those dishes!

“Saturday night the negroes kept bringing tales of how the Yankees were going to treat us. All during the night 'Aunt Laura,' one of the colored women, told us over and over that they were surely going to kill us. Naturally, our nerves were on edge from dread and horror. We decided to try treating them kindly, hoping that might help matters a little.

“Early Sunday morning they began to arrive. There were only three in the first party. The weather was terribly cold, and the negroes had already made a fire for us. When the men walked in, we piled on more wood and invited them to come up to the fire. They seemed to be perfect gentlemen. However, in a few minutes the mob swarmed in like bees. They were all over the premises in almost no time. They literally ransacked the whole place. A big negro man, who came with them, stepped up to me and said: 'You are the finest looking young lady I've seen since I left the North' My goodness! I was scared to get out of the house the rest of that day and night!

“Presently some of them found a bullet-mould. They then demanded the pistol, which, of course, Mr. Stroman had taken with him. They became furious, and broke locks and snatched everything to pieces, saying that they must have the pistol. They kept saying that they would burn the house, but we thought they surely would not. Aunt Nancy piled her meat on the floor and sat on it. The men kept telling her the house was already burning upstairs. Still she sat. Then with a very uncomplimentary epithet they said, 'We will snatch you baldheaded if you don't get up and get out.' Still Aunt Nancy sat upon the meat! They finally took her out by force, and of course, they took the meat.

“They had the negroes to carry out and save a good many things from downstairs. I took a seat on my trunk while both houses were burning. My brother's uniform was in the trunk and I did not want them to get it, so I held a heavy iron poker in my hand. I was strong enough to use that poker then too, if I had been forced to do so!

“An officer kept harassing me and boasting about their having whipped us. I told him that they had overpowered us, but would never whip the South. Then I sang 'The Homespun Dress' for him. They took everything we had to eat but some of the backbones and sweet potatoes. We were very hungry, so we put those on to cook. Just as they were about done, another crowd came in and ate up every bite! By this time it was almost dark.

“Imagine starting in on another night of terror after the twenty-four hours through which we had just passed! We had taken refuge in the kitchen with the negroes when a crowd of drunken soldiers came by and tried to drive us out, saying they were going to burn the kitchen. They even tried to lure us out by saying that they were burning the Walker house, a little way below there. But we were so terribly frightened that we did not dare go outside. Then they took red-hot coals and put them in a trunk out on the porch. Still, I would not go. They put out the fire in the trunk after it had ruined a beautiful outfit and a bed curtain that my mother had made.

“That party finally went away and another came. One of these men was so drunk that he rode his horse right on into the kitchen porch. And so it went on all through that terrible never-to-be forgotten day and night! Sorrow and destruction on every hand! A few miles above us, a Mr. Williamson was quite ill in bed with measles. He was tied to a horse and led away. His family never heard of him again.

“By Monday morning 'Sherman's Raid' had passed. But in its wake, what a broad trail of waste, desolation and ruin! And on the fair pages of American history had been stamped an indelible blot.”

Emily married John Wardlaw Brodie [10470] [MRIN: 3509], son of Robert Allen Brodie [10471] and Sara Ann Harsey [10485]. (John Wardlaw Brodie [10470] was born on 2 Apr 1843 in Goodland Plantation, Springfield, South Carolina, died on 18 Oct 1917 and was buried in Brodie Family Cemetery, Springfield, South Carolina.)