Thomas Ackerson was a member of the 5th West Va. Infantry and belonged to Capt. Rowe’s company. The Register reporter hunted him up the other day for a narrow escape, and sure enough Thomas had one quite different from any that we have before related. And yet what a variety we have described! From sabre stroke, from bursting shell, from whistling musket ball, from captor’s clutches, from terrible starvation and every form of danger we have told the escapes of “our boys.” There seems to be no end to the variety, some are thrilling, some are blood-curdling, and some are really humorous even if deeply tinged with danger.

        Of the latter sort was Mr. Ackerson’s, and though he told it to me with a laugh, we thought we could detect a slight tremor in his voice when he came to the critical point.

        It was on the 24th of July, 1864. That was an eventful day to many soldiers from the county. The 91st, the 5th Va. and the 2d Va. Cav. were on the red line that day. It has already furnished this column with several thrilling incidents. Crook had come up from Winchester with his Army of West Va. and met Early coming down with a big army. Crook resisted but gave way after many hot fights. It was in one of these that Mr. Ackerson’s episode happened.

        The long line of the rebs swooped down on our little army at Kernstown; and not far from the big brick house, we made a stand. But it was not much of a stand, for the rebs came on relentlessly and swept our lines away with their superior members. But along the lines many a startling incident happened. By some little misfortune, our company of sixteen of us got apart from the regiment, and Capt. Rowe started to fight on his own hook by ordering us to charge on Early’s whole corps. Well, we did, says Mr. Ackerson, in a moderate sort of way, but we didn’t get far, for we struck the reb infantry in massed lines that poured volley upon volley on our receding ranks. we couldn’t stand it. Of course, we couldn’t. Fighting Early’s whole corps with sixteen men was too big a job, so we departed, quietly but quickly, and exceedingly anxious about the balls that whistled around our heads.

        Now, while we were getting out of there in as rapid a manner as possible, says Mr. Ackerson, was when I ran against a circumstance that I never will forget. Across the pathway of escape was a heavy hedge fence, and I thought to myself; now, to a man who is trying to get away from Early’s whole corps, banging minnie balls at him, what is a hedge fence? Why, simply nothing, thought I, and straight through it I aimed mycourse thinking that when I got the other side of it, I would be screened from the enemy’s view. So, when I got to it made a leap through its green, thorny branches. In times of peace, it would have been a task to be long debated before a fellow would run through a hedge fence. But when war is pounding at your back, a hedge fence it nothing, so I thought.

        But I hastily changed my opinion. I got into the middle of that hedge fence, and it seemed to me every thorn in the patch grabbed hold of me. Several of them snatched my haversack; several got my coat sleeve; some seized the stripe of my cartridge box, and in a moment I saw I couldn’t budge an inch either way; and here came the rebels in solid phalanx firing as they came. I could see their gray lines coming for me. I worked and tustled and pulled to get from the clutch of that hedge, but I never struck such an obstinate thing in my life. The rebs came nearer and nearer, and I struggled harder and harder. I began to think it was time to say my prayers. I thought farewell to home. I could see old Hecla furnace vanishing in the dim eternal past. My life seemed to flicker and flutter. On came the rebs nearer. The thorny hedge seemed to tighten its grasp. I could almost see the white of the reb eyes. A tremendous plunge I made, but bounced back on the piercing thorns. The rebs were within thirty yards. Another plunge--and out of the hedge I went, and away I flew to the rear. Across the field, our boys had taken up position behind a stone fence. To that I broke life a streak of lightning, the balls whizzing all about me. Would I ever get to the stone fence? I thought. Well, I did, and when I reached it, the boys grabbed me by the head and shoulders and pulled me over and I was safe. Even to this day when I see a hedge fence, it scares me, and I’de walk ten miles around one before I’de go through it. Now, you have my story--you can put in the literary part; the facts are just as I tell you.

        “All right,” said the Reporter, “the literary part shall be attended to, but I thank you very much for telling me your interesting experience. Good day.”

        “Good day, sir.”
Ironton Register, 16 June 1887, Thursday.