Well, Bragg had left us, and we were all alone. So one fine morning the
bugle sounded the call to fall in to ranks, and we marched out of camp,
back on the road we had come. But not with the same feelings, we were
getting tired of this interminable marching, as it seemed to us for no
purpose, for the private soldier is generally in blissful ignorance of
the movements to be made on the board. Then again many of our comrades
were not with us, and we missed their faces and their forms. Sickness
had thinned our ranks, death had removed many, and the question rang
out, "When are we going to stop?" but the days passed away slowly; the
march, march, march, the scarcity of water, and the dust, and our
clothing was now beginning to show the marks of hard usage. But we
buckled to it and put on as good a face as possible. There was always
some fellow who said something whenever he opened his mouth, which would
provoke laughter at the most trying time, and the one who could get up a
laugh was the hero of the moment, until some one else would say
something that beat him, and then he would assume that honor. Once in a
while the drum and fife would start up, and that would infuse new life
into us, and we would rattle off the miles at a good pace while it
lasted; we used to wish they would play all the time, but the fifer's
lungs were not made of leather, and the drummer's arms would get tired;
so, as the music ceased, we would soon drop back into the old step
again. Many a time we thought, and exclaimed like Richard "a horse, a
horse, my kingdom for a horse." Then some fellow would yell out: "you
couldn't ride him if you had one, you don't know how," or would make the
enquiry if a good mule would not answer as well. And so we passed the
time away until one afternoon, tired and thirsty, we found ourselves
marching by the side of Green River. The road was at quite an elevation
from the water, and as we marched along and looked down upon its green,
cool looking surface, choked with dust as we were, we thought it the
most beautiful sheet of water that we had ever seen, and would only have
been too glad to have plunged into it and drank our fill. But we were
nearing Bowling Green, and shortly went into camp. Bowling Green still
contained evidences that an army had occupied it recently, for on all
sides of us we could see the earth works which had been thrown up by the
rebel army, under the command of General Sydney Johnston, before they
evacuated the place, after the fall of Fort Donelson.
On the 30th of October, Buell relinquished the command of our army, and
turned it over to Major General Rosecrans. Buell had failed to cut off
and compel the surrender of Bragg, and was sharply censured for his want
of activity in following up the enemy. We were glad to hear of his
removal, for we were not much inspired with faith in the generalship of
Buell; and the fact was, the escape of Bragg, when it was so evident to
the most ignorant soldier that he could have been destroyed, had cast a
feeling of depression over us, but now we hoped for better things. We
were now about 113 miles from Louisville. Here we received supplies,
clothing and ammunition, and one fine morning broke camp for Nashville,
Tenn. Here at Bowling Green we had issued to us, for the first time, the
regular regulation army hat. It was a decidedly high toned affair, and
about as convenient an article for a soldier in the field as the regular
out and out "stove pipe" hat would have been. They had enormous tops to
them, and a very moderate sized brim and to see a little man don one of
these head pieces, and start off with it, was ludicrous. The day after
receiving them we were ordered to march, and the journey that day was
enlivened by jokes and witty sayings about those new hats. A little
fellow would be plodding along when some fellow would yell out: "Say,
Sam, get out of that hat, I know you're there for I see your legs."
This, and many other like it, were passed around, and received with
roars of laughter. But we managed, by denting in the top, to reduce
their towering height somewhat, and consequently us short fellows were
not noticed so much afterwards. But those hats caused many a hearty
laugh. There ought to have been, according to the regulations, a brass
front piece to them, and a feather, but these we never got, and it was
so much the better, for it was all we could do, that is, some of us, to
manage them as it was. Here at Bowling Green, also, our transportation
was cut down. Heretofore we had been allowed one wagon and team to a
company, now only one wagon and team was allowed to a regiment, besides
the quartermaster's teams, and the consequence was that company officers
found themselves in a quandary. There had been many of our number left
behind us, and their arms and accoutrements they had turned over to
their company officers, who were responsible to the government for them.
The officers had thrown them into the company wagons, and had brought
them along in that way. Now, however, what were they to do with them?
There was a mighty flying around to the colonel's headquarters for
instructions, and he ordered them to have the arms taken to the
quartermaster, and for him to see to it that they were carried forward.
They did so, only too glad to be rid of them, and quartermaster Ayres
found himself in possession of a most abundant supply of warlike
implements for as peaceful a man as he was. How he managed to get them
along we do not know; but Ayres was a man equal to any emergency, and
brought them in triumph to Nashville.
We were all getting in much better spirits, the weather was cooler and
the health of the regiment had improved somewhat. Water was still scarce
though, and the roads very dusty. But we had a new general in the person
of Rosecrans, or "old Rosy," as we used to call him, and confidence in
our new leader inspired our hearts. His past record had been a good one
and at any rate we did not have any fear of his loyalty as we had had of
Buell's after the battle of Perryville.
One afternoon as we were marching along a fellow came marching by us
going to the front, who was crying and swearing in dutch at a fearful
rate. We thought at first that he was crazy, but we soon got to talking
with him and wanted to know what was the matter. He was a heavy, stout
looking man, and belonged to the Second Missouri, who were ahead of us,
but in the same division. The tears were streaming down his cheeks, and
as we inquired what was the matter, he broke out between his sobs: "Dem
tam rebels, dey kill mine brudder at Perryville, tam em! Tam em! Tam
em!" This was all we could get out of him in regard to it. But it seems
he had remained behind in spite of everything, to see that his dearly
loved brother received christian burial at least, and was just catching
up with his regiment. We felt very sorry for him, but still, although
sympathizing with him in his sorrow, we could not but smile at his
actions. He was terribly wrought up, and his tears had formed, with the
dust of the road which had settled on his face, a mixture, which, as he
wiped his eyes with his hand, had been smeared all over his countenance,
and with his loud sobs and his broken English not spoken in soft
accents, but bawled out as loud as he could bawl, and his oaths and
curses at the rebels who had killed his "brudder," he made altogether a
curious looking specimen of the "greenhorn." He was very, very mad about
it, and he would, in his present state of mind, have been willing to
fight the whole southern confederacy, if opportunity had offered, single
handed. He passed on and left us. What became of him I do not know,
whether on some other bloody field his spirit went to join the loved
brother, who had gone before, or whether he lived to get home in safety,
I never could ascertain. But such was army life, we would laugh and joke
at the most trivial, and very often at the most solemn things. We would
remember a good joke on any body for days, but a solemn, serious matter
would soon pass out of our minds.
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