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Hawke's Bay Times, Volume III, Issue 151, 4 December 1863, Page 6 (Supplement)

A Regimental Cook Undeii Fiee.—“There was a very old, gray-haired cook in an Alabama regiment,” Jenkins remarked, “who would follow his young master to the war, and had the reputation of a saint among the colored boys of the brigade ; and as he could read the Bible, and was given to preaching, he invariably assembled the darkies on Sunday afternoon, and held meetings in the woods. He used to lecture them unmercifully, but could not keep them from singing and dancing after ‘ tattoo.’ Uncle Porapey, as he was called, was an excellent servant, and an admirable cook, and went on from day to day singing hymns among the pots round the camp-fire, until the battle of ‘ Seven Pines ’ opened, when the regiment moved up to the front, and was soon engaged. Uncle Pompey, contrary to orders, persisted in going also, but was met by another darkie, who asked, ‘ Whar’s you, gwine, uncle Pomp? You isn’t gwine up dar to have all the hair scorched off yer head, is yer?’ Uncle Pompey still persisted in advancing, and shouldering a rifle soon overtook the regiment. ‘De Lor’ hab marcy on us all, boys ! here dey comes agin! take car’ massa, hole your rifle square, as I showed you in de swamp ! Dar it is,’ he exclaimed as the Yankees fired and overshot,‘jest as I taught ! can’t shoot wuth a bad five-cent piece ! Naw’s de time boys !’ and as the Alabamians returned a withering volley and closed up with the enemy, charging them furiously, Uncle Pompey forgot all about his church, his ministry and sanctity, and while firing and dodging, as best he could, was heard to shout out, ‘ Pitch in, white folks, Uncle Pompey’s behind yer. Send all de Yankees to de ’tarnel flames, whar ders weepin’ and gnashin’ of—Sail in, Alabamy ; stick ’em wid de bayonet, and send all do blue or’nary cusses to de state ob’tarnal fire and brim—Push ’em hard boys!—push ’em hard; and when dey’s gone, may do Lor’ hab marcy on de last one ob dem, and send ’em to h— farder nor a pigin can fly in a month! Stick de d d sons ob ! don’t spar’ none on ’em, for de good Lor’ neber made such as dem, no how you can fix it; for it am said in de two-eyed chapter of de one-eyed John, somewhar in Collusions, dat —Hurray, boys! dat’s you, sure—now you’ve got ’em ; give ’em goss! show ’em a taste of ole Alabamy !’ &c. The person who saw Uncle Pompey,” added Jenkin’s, “ was wounded and sat behind a tree, but said, although his hurt was extremely painful, the eloquence, rage, and impetuosity of Pomp, as he loaded and fired rapidly, was so ludicrous, being an incoherent jumble of oaths, snatches of Scripture, and prayers, that the tears ran down his cheeks, and he burst out into a roar of laughter.”— Battle-fields of the South : described by a Southern combatant.