This letter, to Mrs. Fannie E. Young DeLoach, concerns the actions of her husband, Dr. Alfred Burton DeLoach, Jr. during the Civil War.

		Gallatin, Tenn.
		Dec. 18th, 1899.

Mrs. Fannie E. Deloach.

My dear Madam:

        Your letter came promptly to hand.  I read it time and time
again, with pleasure and sorrow combined. for years and years have I tried to
find my dear, dear good friend, Dr. DeLoach, but no trace could be given until
your good letter came to hand.  I was so sorry to learn of his death; regret
so much I could never see him again and tell him of the love and unbounded
admiration that I and all true soldiers had for his dauntless courage.
        It was on Sunday morning, Sept. 20th, at Chicamauga, our Regt.
the 2nd Tennessee (Bates'old Regt.) started in the fight, with every available
man that could march.  Soon we were in the very hottest of the fray, and the
command came down the line to charge; and with that noted "Rebel Yell" our
line, with the hope of victory, charged the parapet walls, when nearly every
man was either killed or wounded.  Here within bayonet touch, or nearly so, I
fell Very severely [sic] wounded through both thighs, shot from a cannon,
strick [sic] by canister shot that passed through and left me helpless on the
field; could scarcely move hand or foot; I could only see two living men, but
many dead around me.  The Yankees by this time had risen to the top of the
breastworks, firing and swearing as they came.  Our lines had fallen back and
victory seemed theirs.  Right here in my helpless condition, so wounded and
confronted by this deadly line as it were, comes the most daring courage I
ever knew. while it is accordance with all military laws and regulations that
the surgeons stay in the rear and care for the wounded as they go out or are
taken back, giving no attention to the dead or those in ranks, yet with all
this in his mind, Dr. DeLoach, with more courage that any hundred men, came up
and took me from the very jaws of death, and while the bullets came thick and
fast he slowly dragged me back some hundred yards and placed me behind a tree,
taking from his own neck a canteen of whiskey and one of water from my neck;
then said, after a quick examination of my sever wounds, "Although very
severe" he said, "your [sic] are not going to die now.  I will go and come
again with some help and get you off." But they never would allow him to come
to me again. he went to the Regt. called for volunteers, he at head, tried
time and again but by this time both sides had deployed their skirmish lines
and I was about equidistant between the two and remained all day.  They fired
at me time and time again, accompanied with oaths and abuses, I was so close
to the enemy that we could talk in almost an ordinary tone of voice.  Nothing
saved me but the little tree that this good and ........ had sheltered me
behind.  Late in the evening our line advanced and I was taken up.  Don't
remember that I ever saw Dr. any more, though I have every reason to believe
he came to me that night and administered to my wants; but my loss of blood
with the cold chilly night left us delirious, and the fate of war and movement
of armies and wounded soldiers separated us, and I never again saw the brave
hero to whom I owe my life.
        I can well understand how a bold man can advance with a firing
line in the midst of shouts and firing of small arms, booming of cannon etc;
but for one to come with no stimulant save his own courage, advance alone to
within the touch of the bayonet of the deadly enemy, is without a parallel,
and in our opinion stands without any near approach even by the deeds of
Dewey, Schley, Hobson and others whose deeds of valor seem to have the world
ablaze.  I was nothing special to Dr. DeLoach; he scarcely knew me; but as
explanation goes, he saw and realized too the acts of a true and bold soldier
who was in the very fire and would be pounded and punched to death by the
cowardly yankees.  That he could not see; rather than know this he resolved to
give up his own life sooner than see his own soldier insulted and butchered.
        It is one of my regrets that I did not know he lived in Longview
or Texarkana. I would have come to visit this friend above all others.  Though
money has been scarce with me and time valuable, some of my hard earnings
would have gone in this way, and I would have looked to it as a great pleasure
to be with one so noble, so brave, so true.
        My dear friend, you and your children have my sympathy; in truth the
loss of this husband and father is great; he was a protection to you and yours
in the deepest sense.
        I have spoken to several of our soldiers about the Dr. since I got
your letter. One, "Yes, I remember Dr. DeLoach; he was the bravest man I ever
saw." Another says, "Certainly I do; he saved my life by some quick surgical
operations."  Every one loves to talk about him and his daring deeds.
        Now in conclusion, I want to insist on your coming to see us.  You
would receive a great welcome from the old soldier friends, myself and family.
I married a little late in life, but have a good wife and two little girls;
one 12 years old, the other about 6, all of whom would give you a most hearty
welcome.  Or your children either; let them come; one or all of them. it is
not a long run; we are only 26 miles from Nashville.  I want you to come and
spend a month or so - long as you will; come winter or summer.  This is a good
climate, and I believe you would enjoy it.  Wife and children join me in love
to you and yours and say come, do come and see us.

                        I now subscribe myself,
                        one of your very best friends.
                           J. B. Malone

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