I have often been asked by persons knowing somewhat of my personal experience during the raid of "Sherman’s Army" thru our County, to give it to the public, but have as often refused because of my inability to do justice to the occasion.

But at the earnest solicitation of a friend who is cognizant of the facts as they transpired, I have at last consented to give it to the Public in a plain and straight forward way.

I was born on the 11^th day of March 1950 and consequently at the time of which I write was a little over 14 years old.

My home which was at my Father’s eight miles from Cheraw on the Wadesboro road, was a stopping place for the Rebel couriers going to and fro with messages from different head quarters of the Confederate Army. I remember J. C. Smith and Uncle Doc Cason as two of the Couriers. And Old Major Cottingham, a neighbor of my father’s who lived at Sneedsboro about four miles up the Pee Dee River, came to our home every day to hear the news of from the advancing Federal Army. Major seemed greatly excited and altho an old man (nearly seventy years old) entertained very grave fears as to his personal safety during the passing of the "Yankee Army". And on Friday March 4^th the day before the "Yankees" reached our home, the was there and by some means learned that I desired to hide from the "Yankees" a favorite pony. He came to me and told me to get my pony and go home with him, that he was going to hide his horses in the swamps of Pee Dee River, and I could go with him and save mine.

My parents reluctantly gave their consent and I went. We arrived at Major’s home about 2 o’clock Friday afternoon and immediately began preparations for carrying the horses to the swamp.

He necessarily had to have two of his negro men to help carry the stock and feed for them. Major went probably a mile from his home into the swamps when he called a halt. I said to him "Major this does not seem" He raised his hand as a signal for me to stop speaking. After tieing up the horses he sent the negros back home, and said to me, "I know that you were going to say, ‘This is not a good place to hide’, but I wanted those negro men to think that we would hide here."

We then moved farther into the woods where I thought was a good place to hide, we again tied our horses and by this time it was nearly dark. And after eating a lunch the Major said he wanted to go back to the house and asked me if I was afraid to stay there by myself. I did not own to the Major that I was afraid, but I think if those who read this will remember that I was only 14 years old and away in the river swamps by myself with the owls hooting around me, that they will hardly accuse me of cowardice if I now confess that I was afraid. However the Major prepared to go, and as he was leaving handed me his pistol. I threw it down on a pallett I had arranged with some blankets and lay down myself and went to sleep. He came back some time during the night and lay down beside me. Where we slept until the sun was up next morning. Neither of us having an appetite we ate nothing that morning. It was not a great while after we had finished feeding our horses before we heard the firing of guns in different directions, proving to us that the "Yankees" were in our community. We went up near the house, between it and where we first stopped to hide our horses, and it soon became evident that we had to retreat as a crowd of "Yankees" seemed to be coming directly toward us and where we had first stopped our stock. (We learned afterwards that they were piloted to our hiding place by one of the negro men.)

They tracked our horses from the first place to where we finally hid them and as they came up we retreated into the woods. We heard them quarreling as to the ownership of some of the horses when they found them.

After our horses had been taken we left and were going further up the river, and as we were going in a cattle trail, coming to an abrupt turn I saw just ahead of us, and coming toward us several "blue coats". They saw us probable before we saw them, but we were hemmed in on one side by the fresh water of Pee Dee River and the "Yankees" with drawn muskets on the other, telling us to come in and we thought it the better part of valor to do so.

After getting to them we found that we had a set of dare devils to deal with.

They exchanged hats and boots with my self and it was the first trading that I ever did without having something to say about it.

However we were in their power and had to submit to any indignity they saw fit to heep upon us.

There were five "Yankees" in the crowd that captured us. One was called "Lee" and another "Jack" by their companions. They questioned us about a great many things and to all of their questions satisfactory answers were given as far as we were able to do so. After going with them for more than an hour, we came out of a thick woodland crossing a small stream of water, into an old field.

Here they stopped in about thirty steps, and told us they had stopped for the purpose of killing us, and as a matter of course we tried to reason with them, and plead for our lives, but they told us that some of Wheelers Cavalry (Confederates) had captured some of Kilpatricks Cavalry and shot them, and they intended to do so many d--d rebles the same way if they had to take citizens too. At the time our conversation was going on they were standing with their horses abreast of each other, and the Major and I were standing at the left side of them. They finally said to Major, "Old man, as you are the oldest we will shoot you first so walk out there in front of us." He seemed perfectly resigned to his doom and deliberately walked in front and faced them without saying another word. The one that was called Jack raised his gun with a hellish smile upon his face and fired a bullet through the body of the old man striking him near the waist band of his trousers and going through him as I could see as he turned around, Jack laughed at him and asked if he was hit, the Major replied in a low tone "yes" but did not fall as I expected he would.

Knowing that my time was coming next, and while they with their hellish glee, were watching the Major so intently, I started on a run for the thick woods we had just left. They seemed not to have noticed me until I had nearly reached the woods, and then some one said "shoot him, shoot him." Three shots were fired at me in quick succession before I got under cover of the woods.

Now reader, if it be possible for you to do so, imagine how I (a boy in a dismal swamp, being hunted as I thought by those devils incarnate) felt.

For the impression had been made on my mind by the acts of those men, that if I were caught by any of the "Yankees" my life would surely be taken.

I wandered about in the woods not caring where I was going, so long as I kept out of sight of the Yankees. I got to the river in my rambles and to my surprise it seemed to be running the wrong way. Then I knew that I was lost, but I cared nothing for that as I had no objective point in view. My only aim was to keep out of the hands and way of the "Yankees".

I wandered about in the woods until late that afternoon (Saturday) when I saw a house not far from the woods where I was and I determined to go to it and find out where I was.

I saw a large crowd of negroes, standing in the back yard, but thought nothing of that at the time I went to back door of the kitchen and asked a negro woman for a drink of water. She gave me the water and told me Mr. Thomas Ratliff lived there and then whispered to me that I had better leave quick as a negro had gone into the house to tell some "Yankees" that I was out there.

That served to confirm my fears that I would be captured and killed by any of the "Yankees" that could get hold of me. So I ran for the woods and before I got there I looked back and saw the "Yankees" in the back yard with their guns.

I then went farther into the woods and lay down upon the cold ground (it being the month of March) and shivered there all night with no covering but the canopy of heaven, and I had not partaken of a mouthful of food of any kind since the night before.

The next morning (Sunday) I began to ramble again in the woods trying to make my way home. That night found me at the negro quarter of Mr. Richmond Buchanan, five miles from home. There I found one of the Old Majors’ negroes and told him about the killing of Major.

Having slept scarcely any the night before I procured a bed quilt from a negro man and went under an out house and slept soundly all night. The negro man that furnished me with the quilt came next morning and woke me and told me that it would not be long before the "Yankees" would be there, and sure enough before I got to the woods the place was swarming with the "blue coats". I begun again that morning (Monday) to work my way through the "Yankees" and woods toward home. I crossed the Wadesboro road to the north of where Mr. Hugh Johnson lived and as I got to the public road I looked for "Yankees" before assaying to cross, and coming down form the direction of Wadesboro was a crowd of soldiers. I hurried back into the woods and hid myself behind a log until they passed. Then I made my objective point West-Field Creek, down the swamps of which I intended to go until I reached Brock’s Mill Pond. This I succeeded in doing - getting to the head of the pond about 3 o’clock that afternoon.

There I remained until about dark, when I started for my home, which was only about one mile distant. When I got near the house I found that "Yankees" were camping all AROUND IT SO THAT I found it difficult to work my way through there unobserved, but finally I did so, and when I got to the front door of the house, to my utter amazement, there stood a "Yankee" with a gun.

I dodged around the house and stood in the dark, not knowing what to do, while standing there I heard my mother go to the front door and speak to the guard. Then I mustered up courage to walk around and go into the house passing my mother and the guard without speaking to either of them. My mother asked the guard why he let that fellow come into the house. He replied "that is no "Yankee" but a country boy." I passed on through the house to a back room where my oldest brother, (who was at home from the army - sick with typhoid fever) and as I got to the door of the room I saw two "Yankees" in there sitting down by the fire with my father. I turned off into the dining room, on the other side of the hall, and there my mother found me.

She took me into the room where the family were and then learned of me what had happened to the Old Major and me. It was then about 9 o’clock Monday night and I had not eaten a mouthful of anything since Friday night and really was not hungry in the least. The excitement and fear had been so great with me that all desire for food had been taken away. But my mother prepared me something and I sat down and ate a little.

The next morning learning that I was really in no personal danger, I was out and among the "Yankees" and in walking in the grove near the house I found the barrel of a gun that I owned and picked it up and looked down it to see if it had been bent. A "Yankee" near me, saw me looking at the gun barrel and took it and bent it around a tree so as to utterly ruin it.

As soon as I could hear from the Major’s family, I ascertained that the same "Yankees" (from a description of them) had gone to his house and informed his family that in a certain direction in the swamps they had found an old man dead describing him in such a way as to leave no doubt in their mind that it was their father. (His family consisted only of his daughters at home) and they also told them that some distance from the old man, they had found the corpse of a young boy and they thought it was myself.

We never could understand why they told this until the following summer when the skeleton of a man was found on Major’s place and in what is called a clay-root. The Major’s family was two days looking for his body and an examination showed that the "Yankees" shot him a second time after I ran.

Now in conclusion I desire to say that notwithstanding all that I had to go through with, and all the hellish deeds committed by the "Yankees" while passing through our country, I feel no animosity towards them. I have long since forgiven them. And I would like very much to know if my captors "Jack" and "Lee" belonging as they intimated at the time to Kilpatricks Cavalry are still alive, but I’m quite certain that if they were and happened to see this account of their work that they would not acknowledge it, for they know nothing of the Major and myself and the killing of the Major was as cold blooded murder as was ever committed.

Daniel’s obituary was recorded in The Chesterfield Advertiser, March 9, 1916 issue, as follows:

Mr. D. M. Barentine former owner of The Chesterfield Advertiser and one of Chesterfield’s most prominent and respected citizens, died at his home on Green Street near midnight of last Thursday night. The death of this good man was not unexpected, as he had hovered between life and death for several days before the end came. About three weeks ago Mr. Barentine suffered an attack of the grip. From this he seemed on the road to recovery and was on the street two weeks ago from today. He suffered a relapse, however, which, complicated with arterio sclerosis, was the cause of his death. A marked sense of sadness prevailed throughout the town for two days, manifesting the universality of esteem in which Mr. Barentine was held. Mr. Barentine was born in 1850 and was married in 1873 to Miss Nannie McCreight. There were five children, all of whom are living. They are Mrs. D. H. Laney, Mrs. B. F. Robeson, Mr. O. L. Barentine and Miss Annie Barentine, of this community, and Mr. Walter E. Barentine, of Moultrie, Ga. He is also survived by a brother, Mr. John Barentine, of Clio, and a sister, Mrs. Ella Turlington, of Baltimore. Mr. Barentine always took a lively interest in the affairs of his county and State. For several years he was auditor of Chesterfield county, after which he served several terms as probate judge. At the time of his death he was clerk of the Board of County commissioners. For a good many years Mr. Barentine was owner and editor of The Chesterfield Advertiser. In this work he was recognized as a man of positive convictions and of great breadth of mind. The upbuilding of the county was always his first thought. Mr. Barentine was a member of the Methodist church. To the church he gave liberally of his time and means. For almost forty years he was a steward in St. Paul church and for years was chairman of the board of trustees. His church honored him by sending him to the District Conference from year to year, and often he was a delegate to the Annual Conference. He always stood loyally by his duty to his church. The funeral services were conducted Saturday afternoon by this pastor, Rev. J. L. Tyler, and the body laid to rest in the Chesterfield cemetery.