I remained around home and in the mountains, waiting for news to
come for us to start for Kentucky. In a few tidings came that a
“pilot” would start for the North about the first of May. Notice
was given and preparations were made to meet on the north side of
the Nola Chucky, in Greene Co., Tenn. I was to meet some men at a
school house, about one mile from home. It was a dangerous time, as
the rebels were scouting all over the country for Union men. That
day, about three miles away, two Union men, Chris. Ottinger and John
Eisenhour, were killed by the rebels.
On the 6th of May, 1863, I was at my father-in-law’s house, preparing
to meet the party at the school house heretofore mentioned. About
sun-down, my father-in-law went to the door on the north side of the
house and, turning around, said,
“The rebels are coming up the lane to the house!”
He went out toward the barn, calling the horses, trying to draw the
attention of the rebels, and knowing that I would try to get away.
I was barefooted, bareheaded, and without a coat. I ran out of the
house on the south side, and kept the house between myself and the
rebels. I jumped over a high fence and passed the loom house, then
jumped another high fence and lit on a lime-stone rock, cutting the
ball of my left foot to the bone, but did not know it until I ran up
close to the barn and sat down in a briar thicket in a corner of
the fence. I felt something sting, and putting my hand down, found
the blood gushing from my foot. The reader can imagine how I felt. I
was mad and ready to fight the entire Confederacy, but sat quietly,
nursing my wrath and my wounded foot.
By this time it was quite dark, and the rebels had fed their horses
and were going to the house for their supper which they had ordered.
I got up and studied for a moment to know what to do, and finally
decided to go back to the house the way I had ran out. I started
back, and crawled along the side of a hedge fence on the south side
of the house until I came to a gate that opened from the kitchen.
There was a bright light shining through the window, and I could see
all of the rebels seated at the table, there being about twenty of
them.
Outside it was very dark by this time. I crawled along on all fours
to the “big house” door and went in. The rebels had stacked their
arms in the sitting room, and all of their accoutrements were lying
on the floor. As there was no light in this room, it was very dark.
A stairway led from this room to the second floor, and I knocked
lightly on the stair railing. My sister-in-law came in and was
shocked to find me in the house. I told her I had ruined my foot on
a rock, and that I would go round on the north side of the house to
the kitchen door, and that she should tell my wife to come out, as I
wanted to speak to her; but my sister-in-law could find no chance to
do so, for the rebels were watching the family.
I stood at the door a minute, and tapped lightly, just so my wife
would hear it, for I could see through the window that she was
standing at the door. She opened it just a little, and I whispered to
her and said I would go out into the garden and remain there until
the rebels left.
While in the room I was tempted to take up their guns and go to the
window and shoot three or four of them, but I knew if I did they
would kill the family and burn the house.
I remained in the garden until they left, but suffered fearfully with
my wounded foot. I knew I had to meet the men at the school house.
After the rebels departed, I went in and cut off the top of my shoe
and washed the blood from my foot and bound it up the best I could.
The family filled my haversack with provisions and I started for the
school house, where I met the boys and related my troubles to them.
Men from all parts were making their way to the place on the north
side of the Nola Chucky, some seven miles from home. We had to cross
a cedar bluff on the north side of the river, and the night was dark
and the country very rough.
As a man by the name of Alfred Timons was crossing the road alone,
making his way to the place, he was fired upon by the rebels and
shot through the head, the ball coming out through his right eye. He
fell to the ground, but regained his strength and made his escape to
the river, which he crossed and came to the camp. The boys dressed
his wound the best they could, and he went to Kentucky, but lost the
sight of his eye.
I suffered all night with my foot, and could hardly put it to the
ground. There were about one hundred and twenty men gathered there
from all parts of the country, to go to Kentucky. We remained there
that night and until about eight o’clock the next evening, when they
started for that State.
I had to abandon the attempt to go this time, and was left alone on
the bluff in a terrible condition—no one to help me back home, and
if I should succeed in reaching home I could not stay in the house.
I knew if I was captured I would be shot or hung to the first limb.
The rebels had received word that we had crossed the river and were
making our way to Kentucky.
I started for home that night, crossing the river in a canoe at the
same place where I had crossed the night before. I travelled about
three miles that night, and just before daylight I crawled into a
barn, dug a hole in the hay, and remained there all day, suffering
intensely with my foot. Some one came into the barn to feed the
horses, but I knew who lived there, and did not dare to make my
presence known. When the person came in the hay loft I was afraid
whoever it was might stick the pitch fork in me. I could not tell
whether it was a man or woman, for no word was spoken. I lay there
all day, without anything to eat or drink, and suffering fearfully
with my foot.
About eight o’clock that night I crawled out of the barn and started
for home. I travelled about three miles, and before daylight I
crawled into another barn. I had known the owner all my life. He was
a German and a good Union man, but I could not let myself be known.
No one came to the barn that morning, and I lay there all day. My
foot had swollen so badly that my shoe had to be taken off, and I had
to go barefooted.
[Illustration: CAPT. R. A. RAGAN MAKING HIS ESCAPE FROM HIS
FATHER-IN-LAW’S HOME IN 1862. See page 17.]
The third night I crawled into the barn of Philip Easterly, who was
my wife’s uncle. I did not let myself be known, but lay there all day
as usual, and at night crawled out, having one mile and a half to
travel to reach home.
I can safely say that I had to hop on one foot most of the way. I had
no crutches and nothing but a stick that I had cut with a knife. When
I arrived at my home, about three o’clock in the morning, my folks
were surprised to see me, for they thought I could never walk on my
foot in the condition it was in. I had my foot dressed for the first
time since I was hurt. The blood had caked on it, and it looked as if
amputation might be necessary; but my wife came to me two or three
times a day and dressed it. I stayed in the barn at nights, and in
the woods in the daytime. I had to remain in this condition for about
six weeks, until I got so that I could begin to walk.