Atlanta had fallen. Sherman, before starting on his "march to the sea,"
detached the Fourth and Twenty-fourth Corps, under command of Schofield,
and sent them by forced march to Pulaski to watch Hood, who was at
Florence, and to retard his advance into Tennessee until Thomas, who was
at Nashville, could concentrate enough troops to--as Sherman pithily
said--"take care of him." The main body of the 9th Cavalry had shortly
before this been sent to Nashville to secure horses for mounting the
regiment; a small number of each company only remained to guard the camp
and stores.
About the 15th of November the forces from "the front" arrived, and soon
our peaceful camp was the scene of warlike preparation. The beautiful
slope which we had so long occupied was cut into rifle-pits, and just
north of regimental headquarters a breast-work was raised, commanding
the approaches from south and east.
Receiving information that indicated an advance of the enemy on Columbia
by the way of Winchester, the works were abandoned. The infantry took up
their line of march for Columbia, and the remnant of the 9th hastily
loaded the camp equipments and stores and boarded the train for
Nashville on the 23d of November, arrived on the morning of the 24th,
and rejoined the main body who were encamped across the river in
Edgefield. The remounting being completed, the cavalry forces at
Nashville were rapidly organized as the seventh division of the cavalry
corps--Gen. Knipe commanding. The first brigade, Gen. J. H. Hammond
commanding, was composed of the 9th and 10th Indiana, the 2d and 4th
Tennessee and 19th Pennsylvania.
On the 27th the first brigade moved through the city and down the
Franklin Pike a few miles and went into camp; on the 28th, passed
through Franklin to Spring Hill and went into camp, awaiting orders from
the front. On the 29th moved to the left of the Columbia Pike and were
all day in the saddle marching and counter-marching, slowly falling
back, almost constantly within hearing of the fighting at the front.
On the night of the 29th marched across to the Triune Pike to repel an
alleged flanking movement of the enemy, who failed to appear at that
point. At day-light we went into camp, and after a hasty breakfast,
snatched an hour of needed sleep. Soon the unwelcome "boots and saddles"
sounded, and we resumed our weary waiting and watching, nearly always
within sound of musketry, but not seeing the rebels nor hearing the
"zip" of the unfriendly bullet. We marched and counter-marched, always
halting nearer Nashville.
To those of us who had not yet seen a rebel under arms the suspense, the
constant expectation of battle, was more trying than actual fighting
afterwards proved. On this day when the sound of musketry drew nearer
and nearer, we were drawn up in line, and with drawn sabres awaited the
appearance of the enemy and an order to "charge." Expectation sat in a
thousand pale faces as
"Each looked to sun and stream and plain
As what they ne'er might see again."
Suddenly the rattle of musketry seemed to roll away and all was still.
Another time when the sound of battle approached our position, we
dismounted and in line awaited the onset.
In the evening the distant boom of cannon announced that a battle was on
somewhere, and while we sat on our horses, weary but alert, the bloody
battle of Franklin was being fought miles away. At last night fell, and
exhausted men and horses sank gratefully to sleep.
Our camp was at the base of a wooded hill, in a field adjoining the
Nolansville Pike. Next morning, December 1st, the horses, that had not
been unsaddled, were put in line and held while breakfast was prepared
and eaten. Before this was completed out-post firing was heard--a
cavalryman came galloping, saying the enemy was upon us. The command
hastily mounted and moved out on the pike, just before reaching which
Companies D and G were halted, and, under command of Major Lyon, went
into line, facing the rear. The regiment moving at a rapid walk, moved
up the pike and disappeared. In a few minutes the rebels opened an
irregular but furious fire from the brow of the hill under which we had
camped. At the first discharge a horse went down; directly a man was
shot; another horse fell. Thicker and thicker came the bullets; fiercer
and fiercer grew the rebel yell. Major Lyon rode up and down the line
shouting, "Give 'em hell, boys." It was the "baptism of fire" for the
boys, but no one faltered. When ordered to wheel to the right, by fours,
to march to the rear, behind a stone wall on the other side of the pike,
they executed the movement as deliberately as on dress parade.
Dismounted and sheltered by the stone wall the men were comparatively
safe, but the horses suffered severely. Before they could be led to the
rear, out of range, fifteen had fallen.
The rebels did not advance from the brow of the hill, but blazed away
with constantly increasing vigor. A "jackass battery" opened on us. The
boys did not flinch from this new experience, but kept steadily to their
work with the coolness of veterans. Our Maynard carbines were weak
weapons, useless at long range--our fire must have been ineffectual as
to casualty, but being breech-loaders the boys were enabled to fire with
such rapidity that the enemy over-estimated our numbers and hesitated to
advance, but began creeping round our flanks on either side. And still
the Major said "give 'em hell, boys," and held us to the work until our
ammunition was exhausted. About this time Adjutant Payne, who was on the
staff of Gen. Hammond, came back with orders to retreat. Everybody was
willing, but it was easier said than done.
Almost surrounded, no ammunition, many more men than horses, the pike in
possession of the foe, it was not a comfortable prospect. Hurrying to
the rear we mounted--some without horses, mounted behind a comrade;
again another would hold to a stirrup or a horses' tail to keep up with
the rapid trot. No one thought of dashing to safety at the expense of a
dismounted comrade. A horse was killed throwing its rider against a tree
breaking his collar bone. Instantly he was placed behind a comrade and
away again. On and on through wood and field, rushing through rail
fences, tearing down stone walls with bleeding hands and still behind,
and from either side, the rebel yell and hissing bullet.[1]
At last, most welcome sight, the guidons of a cavalry regiment drawn up
in line to receive us and check the enemy. Feeling sure of safety for
all, we dashed forward, leaving the dismounted men two hundred yards
behind. To our surprise and indignation this regiment wheeled into
column and trotted away before we reached them leaving us to follow. The
abandoned, dismounted men took to a cornfield and many of them escaped.
Two privates of Co. D, Lieut. Swayne and some enlisted men of Co. G,
were taken prisoners. Later on we reached the regiment standing in line
on the pike. From this place we moved slowly toward Nashville until
night came on. Going into camp near the road we enjoyed what we had
fairly earned--a night's repose without alarm.
As we passed through Nashville to our old camp at Edgefield next
morning, every hatless trooper of the previous day's fight will
gratefully remember how the merchants in the city came out with arm
loads of hats to supply our needs. Late in the evening the brigade was
again in the saddle, marching to Gallatin, Tenn., where we remained some
days patrolling the river from that place to Carthage to keep the enemy
from crossing. While here encamped a detachment of the 9th, under
command of Major Wall, was sent up into Kentucky "pressing in" horses
and mules. This expedition was through a rich country, comparatively
unravaged by the war, and was a pleasure trip to its participants. Not
so to the hapless citizens who had horses and mules. Desolation to
poultry yards marked the path of the party. A fine lot of animals were
secured, among them a number of blooded horses. It is possible that all
these did not receive Uncle Sam's trade mark. There was a legend current
in the regiment that one of the mules obtained at this time, that by
_accident_ was not branded, did excellent service at New Orleans in
supplying one company with the needful.[2]
On December the 8th the command returned to Nashville. The morning was
lowery and by noon began to rain. A strong northwest wind froze the
water as it fell and soon the road was a glare of ice. The horses unshod
or smooth shod had but precarious footing. Fortunately no serious
accident occurred. The men were chilled and shivering. When the column
halted for any purpose the red cedar rails on either side were soon
ablaze; but before the cheerful flame could infuse warmth in the chilled
fingers the bugle sounded "forward" and the grateful heat was left to
waste its comfort on the frosty air. We left a fiery as well as a frozen
track that day. Before nightfall we went into camp within two miles of
the city. Soon, amid the lurid flame of burning rails, the smoking hot
coffee, crisp sow-belly and luscious hard-tack, we forgot the discomfort
of our cheerless ride--the song and laugh went round until one by one
each voice was hushed and the camp was wrapped in silence.
On the morning of the 9th we moved across the river and went into camp
on the west side of Nashville, where we remained until December 15th.
While passing through the city Gen. Hatch and staff met the
regiment--Col. Jackson joined him and with him held an informal review
of the regiment as the column moved along. Our horses--fresh from their
"old Kentucky homes"--were in such contrast to the jaded steeds from the
front, with which Hatch's command was mounted, that, turning to Jackson,
he said: "Colonel, you have a magnificent mount, but my boys will steal
half of them before the battle."
"No, General," replied the Colonel, "the boys got these horses for their
own use; you can't have one of them; but we don't want to seem small and
will undertake to trade a limited number of our Maynards for your
Spencers."
On reaching camp, an order was issued doubling the stable guard, and
relieving from camp duty for a week any soldier who would secure a
Spencer carbine. No horse was lost, a dozen or two Spencers were
reported. These were organized for special service, and the zeal and
enterprise developed in securing them had ample play during the stormy
days which followed. It is possible that some members of this squad
would have willingly resigned their prospects for distinction with the
Spencer, for the more modest and less hazardous companionship of the
Maynard.
The camp was in an open field with no tree, shrub or grass, or other
covering than the sleet which fell and formed from day to day. It was a
sloppy, slippery time. The discomfort of the situation was somewhat
alleviated by remembering that the Johnnies were more unhappy than we.
They had not wherewith to cover their nakedness and depended for food on
such limited supplies as could be secured from the country. We were well
fed and clothed.
On the morning of the 15th, the ice being melted, the regiment was in
the saddle soon after daylight. Moving a short distance to the right we
halted, waiting for McArthur's division to clear the way for our passage
to the position assigned our division on the right of Smith's Corps.
About 8 o'clock A. M. the booming of the cannon on the left announced
the opening of the battle. For an hour the fight seemed to remain in one
place, but gradually the forces became engaged along the front, reaching
a point to the right of our position. The cannons roared and thundered,
and the rattle of small arms could be distinctly heard, while a dense
smoke rolled up from the field which was obscured from our view by an
intervening ridge. To get out of the ranks and climb this ridge to see
how a great battle looked was a common impulse--an impulse too strong
for those whose curiosity was stronger than their sense of duty. Two
privates of one company, thus straying away, were discovered by one of
Hammond's aids, who promptly placed them and their company commander
under arrest. This officer[3] later in the day approached the General
and obtained permission to lead his company in the coming fight, which
he did so gallantly that he never heard any more about the arrest.
Two officers of another company likewise climbed the ridge and saw the
belching of the cannon, the bursting of the shells, the great lanes torn
through the ranks of blue, which, closing up, moved steadily toward the
foe. It was a grand though awful sight. As one, sickening, turned away,
he discovered that the regiment had moved away. Informing his companion,
they descended the hill and quickly following were, fortunately for
their credit, not discovered, and regained their place in the column.
The division now reached its place on the extreme right--the first
brigade in reserve within the bend of the river. In line facing the
front we sat on our horses awaiting results. The remainder of the
division advanced toward the enemy and were soon hid from our view by
the fog and smoke of battle. Here it was that the battery on the hill
above and beyond the rebel advance opened on us with shell--all will
remember this--and none forget the peculiar shrinking sensation with
which we heard the first shell that came shrieking over our heads and
bursting in our rear. Here it was, too, that, as the smoke lifted, we
saw our troops swarm up the distant hill, and, after a short struggle in
the fort, raise the stars and stripes above the works from whose guns
had so recently come to us such unwelcome greeting. This redoubt was
carried by Coons' Cavalry (dismounted), and two brigades of Smith's
Corps. The same troop rushed gallantly on and soon carried another fort.
The mounted men rushed forward and swept Chalmer's Cavalry back,
capturing his headquarters, books and papers. The Confederate left was
completely broken and driven back by the cavalry corps. Night stopped
the pursuit.
The first brigade being in reserve, took no part in this day's fight,
but followed closely the advance of our victorious fellow-cavalrymen,
seeing on every side the evidences of the battle we had not helped to
win. We reached the six-mile post on the Charlotte Pike; thence marching
up Richland Creek three miles, bivouacked on Granny White Pike. Two
companies, (L and another), going on picket, captured a number of
prisoners during the night.
On the morning of the 16th, the first brigade returned to the Hillsboro'
Pike. The 9th was detailed to support the 14th Ohio Battery in an attack
on the rebel left and rear. Dismounted--a detail for skirmishers was
made, including the "Spencer Squad." As they disappeared in the wood we
followed. Soon a rattling volley, followed by the articulate venom of
single shots, warned us that we were approaching the enemy. Reaching a
position on a ridge thinly covered with trees, the guns were unlimbered,
placed in position, and for two hours a furious duel raged between this
and an opposing battery on the ridge a half mile away. The wooded valley
intervening was alive with skirmishers, and the continuous dropping
shots showed that they were hotly disputing possession. The occasional
bringing in of the dead and wounded from the line attested the character
of the struggle. The boys were evidently not in fun. The regiment lay in
front of the guns which fired over us. This of itself was sufficiently
exhilarating to a nervous man, but when the shells of the opposing
battery came hustling through the air, bursting in front, above and
behind us, cutting the branches above us or throwing the dirt over us,
every man became a stoic and waited with calmness the missile which
should square his account.
Strangely enough no casualty occurred in the line. Some annoyance was
felt from a house on the left front occupied by sharp-shooters. A small
squad, by permission, stole down upon them unobserved. Making a rush for
the house the gray-backs went out of the back door as the boys went in
at the front. The family were at breakfast. One of the boys sat down and
had a hearty lunch, while the others searched the house from cellar to
garret. Notifying the owner that another shot from the house would meet
with response from the cannon, the boys returned and took their place in
line.
And still the cannonade kept up. Shells passing overhead reached the
horses in the rear, carrying consternation to the boys who were holding
them. One came up to the line to get permission to trade places with one
of the boys, saying if he had to be killed he preferred to die as a
soldier, and not as a hostler.
Col. Jackson rode a white horse and, with his orderlies, remained
mounted during this action. Wherever this horse was the shells were
thickest. Upon being asked why he rode this horse he said that in battle
no one hit what he shot at. So he rode this horse for safety. The
Colonel held a fairly good place in the affections of his men, but none
cared to cultivate any closer relations with him on this occasion. It
was two sad-eyed orderlies who followed him up and down the line these
two solemn hours.
The rebel battery ceasing to return our fire, we returned to our horses
and about noon moved to the Cranny White Pike. Crossing it, we
dismounted and climbed a hill--the remainder of the brigade going into
line on our left. As we went into position the brass band of a regiment
on our immediate left was playing a melancholy piece--doubtless
expressing the feelings of the musicians, but certainly not inciting an
appetite for battle in the hearers.
For some hours we lay upon this hill exchanging shots, occasionally,
with an unseen foe, without loss. The 10th Indiana on our left lost some
killed and wounded. About 4 P. M. Knipe ordered an advance of the whole
division. The 9th did not wait, but, springing to their feet, dashed
eagerly down the hill and away after the enemy, who did not stand upon
the order of their going, but went at once.
Strict orders had been given to reserve fire until we should get in
short range, but some nervous comrade, with patriotism at his finger
ends, discharged his gun and at once a line of fire ran down the ranks.
An effort to stop the shooting was made without avail. Company K had a
man killed; a number were slightly wounded. Two Confederates were
seriously wounded in or near a house at the base of the hill, where we
discontinued the pursuit.
This could scarcely be dignified by the name of "a charge," as the enemy
practically made no resistance. With fear to lend them speed they were
further from us at the end of the race than upon the start. The day was
damp and cold; many had on overcoats and poncho blankets. The haste with
which we obeyed the order to advance did not give them time to divest
themselves of extra clothing. The charge was along through a corn-field
a foot deep in mud, intersected by several ditches and washouts, four to
six feet deep, and from three to ten feet wide. Cavalry boots and other
impediments made this a decidedly warm trip.
The rebels were now evidently badly whipped, and if the cavalry corps
had now been mounted we could certainly have cut off the retreat by the
Franklin road and practically bagged the entire game. By the time the
horses could be brought up night had come and we went into camp at the
base of the hill, from which the enemy had given us a parting shot at 5
o'clock.
The rebel army at the close of the fight on the 16th were completely
whipped; the infantry with which the cavalry corps had contended were a
demoralized and panic-stricken mob. Forrest, with his main body of
cavalry, had not been present during the battle. Two brigades had
reached the field on the evening of the 16th, and, holding the passes
through the Brentwood hills, from the Granny White Pike, enabled the
panic-stricken horde to reach the Franklin Pike and cross Little
Harpeth. Night and Forrest's cavalry alone saved Hood's army from total
capture. A strong rear guard of cavalry was formed to cover the retreat
of the broken rebel columns, and, although the battle was won our work
was but fairly begun. About midnight a heavy rain set in which continued
at intervals for some days following.
By the early dawn the First Brigade was in the saddle en route for the
Franklin Pike, the 19th Pennsylvania in advance, supported by the 10th
Indiana. On reaching the pike the whole command started down toward
Franklin at a swinging trot. Soon striking the enemy they gave way
before the impetuosity of the advance and were rapidly driven back,
losing many prisoners. At Hollow Tree Gap a considerable body of
infantry were strongly posted, who repulsed the two regiments in front
with the loss of 22 killed and wounded and 63 prisoners, principally
from the 10th Indiana. To offset this, the 10th had captured and brought
off the field two Colonels, two Lieutenant-Colonels, one Major and more
than one hundred enlisted men. The 9th, being in the rear, had all the
morning seen the evidences of the demoralization of the enemy. The guns
and other equipments strewn along the road, the apparent abandonment of
everything that impeded their flight, every door-yard filled with
illy-clad shivering prisoners, had lead us to the conclusion that we had
"a walk over." Hollow Tree Gap undeceived us.
After repulsing our advance the enemy fell back. The 9th Indiana was
ordered up and took the advance. As we moved through the Gap we saw the
saddest sight of the campaign. A trooper lay beside the road gasping his
life away, and near him with a ghastly wound in his breast, lay dead the
little curly-headed, blue-eyed boy, Duane A. Lewis, Co. B., sixteen
years old, the General's orderly, whose bright and joyous face and
fearless innocence had endeared him to the heart of every soldier in the
brigade. The pitiless rain fell upon his upturned childish face; his
eyes were open, but their light had gone out forever.
Gen. Knipe said to Hammond: "Take your command and go to Franklin; don't
skirmish with the enemy three minutes, but attack him where found and
drive him through the town."
The rain was gently falling, the heavy fog of early morning was somewhat
dissipated, yet so dense that objects could not be distinctly seen at a
distance. With a long trot we swept down the pike against a shadowy
foe--ourselves but shadows. The depressing weather and the sad scene
just passed made the lightest heart grow heavier as we swept along.
Suddenly from the woods on the left a body of Confederate horse sprang
into the road in front of us, and in a ghostly gallop lead the way to
their lines.
Debouching into the open near Franklin, the cannon from the fort opened
on us with shell. The head of the column turned to the right a short
distance and wheeled into line--the centre and left coming on "front
into line." Hammond being at the head of the column gave the command to
charge before the line was barely formed. The right sprang forward at
the command and was rapidly followed by the center. The left, under
Capt. Hobson, was not yet in line and did not hear the command. Hammond
again shouted "charge!" Hobson was looking after the alignment and did
not hear the command. Hammond galloped to him and said: "You cowardly
s-- of a b--ch! why don't you charge?" Hobson raised himself in the
stirrups and said: "Boys, we will show who are cowards! Forward! March!
Trot! Charge!!" and lead the boys right up to the fort, where he was
shot through the heart.[4] A stone wall on the left caused them to crowd
on the centre and against the fort. The right also was forced to press
in on the centre, by reason of a nursery, which, for horses, was
practically impenetrable. The centre charged right down the open grounds
on the left of the pike.
Lieut. Watts, of Company I, fell dead on the pike at the head of Company
G. Lieut. Duvall, who lead Company H, was shot in the breast--a wound
which hastened his death, occurring in 1880.
The Confederates had torn down the telegraph wire and, driving posts at
intervals, had encircled the fort with it. This was unseen by the
assaulting party until their horses tumbled over it. Encumbered by the
horses who were useless in attacking a fort, impeded by a stone wall and
wire-fence, under an awful fire of grape and canister and musketry at
short range, the regiment fell back in disorder, but not without
bringing off two stands of colors and over two hundred prisoners. These
captures were made by individual prowess, and were not the result of
concerted action.
Falling back perhaps two hundred yards from the fort and partially
sheltered from the shells and musket balls by a slight depression in the
plain, Acting Adjutant Comstock, under orders from the Colonel, planted
the regimental colors, and the line was soon formed again. This was done
quickly and well under fire. The shells were passing overhead and
bursting threw the fragments among the men in a distressingly familiar
way.
Lieut. Burroughs, of Company C, had been disabled in the charge, and, as
the men from the left were crossing the pike to form on the colors, he
asked for assistance to remount his horse, which was standing near. Two
men dismounted to assist him, but just then a fragment from a bursting
shell tore away part of his skull. He was carried to the rear in a dying
condition.
As the same party were hastening to the right, as before mentioned, a
shell passed through two horses, taking off the leg of one of the
riders. Another horse had his head taken off as with a broad-axe. In the
charge a horse was struck full in the breast with a cannon ball, passing
through and disemboweling him. The rider went headlong in the mud, where
he lay stunned until the fight was over. The charge was unwisely
ordered, but bravely and brilliantly executed. To ride down in the face
of a withering fire on a fort inaccessible to cavalry, defended by
artillery and infantry, greatly outnumbering the attacking force, was
apparently a ride to death. That it was not so we must thank Him without
whose notice no sparrow falls to the ground. No one faltered; none
turned back until all that could be done was accomplished. Bravely as
this was done, it did not show forth that true courage, born of moral
worth and a high sense of duty, as did the prompt rallying of the broken
companies, and the speedy reforming of the line, under fire, and the
patient waiting for orders among the bursting shells. This was the true
touchstone of our greatness as a regiment, and nobly did the boys stand
the test.
In his report, dated December 27th, 1864, Gen. Hammond, of this action,
says:
"The enemy, having retreated, we followed rapidly, the 9th Indiana in
advance, to near Franklin, and drove the enemy across the river into
town, capturing, it is reported, two stands of colors and near two
hundred prisoners. In this charge we lost three fine officers, among
whom was Capt. Hobson--9th Indiana Cavalry,--a man remarkable for the
prompt discharge of his duties, and his bravery. The 9th Indiana was
supported by the 10th Indiana and the 4th Tennessee. But the first
regiment deserved the principal credit of the charge and success."
For the regiment, whose heroism converted his blunder into a glorious
achievement, this praise is scant enough. For the man, at whom he had
but a few minutes before his death, hurled the most opprobrious epithet
that can be applied to the brave man who loves his mother, or reveres
her memory, this recognition comes too late.
The 4th Tennessee took the advance and pushed over the river, through
the town and out on the Lewisburg Pike, followed by the brigade.
Flanking the enemy out of a position between this and the Columbia Pike,
we moved across to this latter road, and leisurely moved down toward
Columbia. On either side of us great columns of cavalry were moving
through the fields in parallel lines. The entire cavalry corps was in
sight. The whole face of the country seemed covered with the mighty
host.
"'T were worth ten years of peaceful life,
One glance at their array."
A mile to the front, a range of heavily wooded hills at right angles to
the pike, rose abruptly from the plain. On the brow of this hill a
battery in the road opened on us with shell. The first shell, passing
over, bursted beyond our rear; another and another followed. The
stragglers felt an impulse of valor unfelt before, and made vigorous
efforts to get to the front. The pace of the command visibly
quickened--broke into a trot, and soon were galloping, while still above
us shrieked the shells. Alas! not all! Those in the rear could see the
column, opening and closing at frequent intervals, as the horsemen
passed on either side of the dead and wounded men and horses who had
fallen.
Reaching a break in the wall which fenced in the right side of the road,
the head of the column, turning, dashed into the field on the right.
Dismounting at the edge of the woods, which was also the base of the
hill, we advanced upon the enemy, and drove him from his position. It
was said that in this action the 4th Regulars, lead by Knipe in person,
went into line, without dismounting, charged the enemy, and, after a
sharp hand to hand fight, drove him in confusion from the field.
The whole corps was engaged in this action, and, in thirty minutes from
the discharge of the first gun, the entire rebel force, who were not
killed or prisoners, were in full retreat. It was now nearly dark.
Remounting, we moved to the right, the 10th Indiana in advance. Passing
the enemy's flank, and reaching the pike in his rear, we moved forward
to the attack. The 10th Indiana passed the enemy, who were ambushed
behind a stone fence on the left, and who permitted us to likewise get
well in the trot before springing it.
Suddenly, from out the darkness, "Halt! Who comes there?" sharply
questioned a voice. "Federal cavalry," replied Jackson. "_Fire!_" rang
out the command, and immediately from a thousand muskets in our very
faces, gushed a sheet of flame. Down went man and horse. Another volley,
and the frightened horses reared and plunged, many falling in a ditch
alongside the road, crippling the riders.
Company L was in the advance. Moorehouse went down with a ghastly wound;
Bristow fell dead; Jackson's horse went into the ditch, falling upon
him, and inflicting permanent injuries to his breast. Acting Adjutant
Comstock and another, whose name I cannot give, saved the Colonel from
capture, by mounting him upon another horse and holding him in the
saddle until a place of safety could be reached.
Color-Sergeant Ricks, of Company E, a noble boy, was killed, and, in the
darkness, the colors were lost. The rebels, protected by the wall, were
safe from sabre or bullet. The plunging of the horses, the cries of the
wounded, the shouting of the officers, the lurid flashing of guns,
fitfully lighting the scene, made a situation inadequately described by
the modified term of the "new version."
The surprise, the darkness and disorder, the impossibility of returning
the fire, left but one thing to do. A united rush was made to the right.
The rail fence, bounding the road, went down with a crash--officer and
man, with equal zeal, seeking safety in flight. The enemy pursued with
shout and yell and hissing bullet. It was not a panic. It was good, hard
sense. To get out of that hopeless hell was strictly business.
The enemy did not pursue very far. Halting in the woods, Hammond made an
effort to get the brigade in line. He was so hoarse he could not speak
above a whisper. It was found that all the officers were likewise too
hoarse to make themselves heard, and the attempt was abandoned. Each
officer and man sought sleep and rest where best it suited him. Sleep
did not at once fall upon the camp. Silence there was, but not sleep.
The chagrin of failure, the separation from comrades who might be dead
or wounded, and in the hands of the enemy, added tenfold to the horror
of the night, itself wet, cold, comfortless. At last tired nature
succumbed to the drowsy god, and all too soon the morning bugle awoke us
from slumber to the duties and dangers of another day.
On the 18th the command, encountering no enemy, marched to near Spring
Hill, and went into camp. Resuming the march on the 19th, reached
Rutherford's Creek. This stream was out of its banks, its current a
torrent, making a more effective rear guard for the defeated army than
even Forrest's brave and determined troops. The almost impassable
condition of the roads delayed the arrival of the pontoons until the
20th. Meantime the infantry had overtaken us, and gone into camp near
us.
When the infantry came from the front and began work on the defenses at
Pulaski, they did not have a very high opinion of the cavalry arm of the
service. This feeling was fairly illustrated in the remark of a bronzed
veteran visiting our camp. He said: "The artillery makes the noise, the
cavalry makes the show, and _we do the work_!" A General was heard to
express his contempt for this arm of the service by offering to pay $10
per head for each cavalryman killed in battle. These boys had now
followed our line of march and constant battle for some days. They had
seen the character of the work done, and from them now was heard only
words of warmest commendation. These were the heroes of Atlanta, and to
have thus earned their enthusiastic approval, conquering their prejudice
and compelling respect, was doubling our laurels and glory enough. Their
unstinted praise was not more grateful to our hearts than was the
generous sharing of their scant store of hard-tack to our now, for a day
or two, "strictly corn-fed" stomachs.
The bridge across Rutherford's Creek being completed, on the 21st we
crossed and moved down to Columbia. Duck River, swollen by the rains,
that for a week had almost constantly fallen, was now a wide, deep and
turbulant stream. The rain had ceased to fall, and it was snowing
instead. The wind was blowing a gale from the northwest. This greatly
increased the difficulty of bridging the stream, and it was December 23d
before we were enabled to cross the river and resume the pursuit. We had
been called up the midnight preceding, struck our tents, and, mounting,
moved down near the river, where we sat upon our horses in the wind and
flying snow--a dismal, dark, dreadful two hours--and then back to camp
again.
About 10 o'clock A. M. on the 23d, we crossed the bridge and moved some
miles down the Pulaski Pike, not encountering the enemy.
On the 24th, we moved through the fields on the right of Gen. Croxton's
brigade. We were not in advance this day, and, while always in hearing
of the guns, were not directly engaged. All this day, as we followed in
the wake of the fight, our eyes were constantly greeted with
unmistakable evidences of the struggle in front. No one will forget the
little knot of dead and dying artillerymen and horses by the road-side,
maimed and mangled by a bursting shell, a gory, ghastly sight.
Forrest, with the main body of his cavalry, had reached the line of
Hood's retreat at Columbia, and from that point interposed a force not
inferior in numbers, or discipline, to the cavalry corps pursuing. In
addition to this force, we were hourly confronted by five brigades of
infantry, under Gen. Walthall. So great a force, aided by bad roads and
swollen streams, made it impossible for us to break through their
defence. It is true that at every stand made by the enemy, we drove him
from his position, but when he fell back it was usually in good order,
and more as one who had accomplished a purpose than as a beaten and
demoralized foe.
On the 25th, we pushed on, following the advance, which drove the enemy
through Pulaski so closely, that he did not have time to destroy the
bridge over Richland Creek. The men detailed to fire the bridge were
killed or captured and the fire extinguished. Another stand was made at
Reynolds' or Anthony's Hill, south of Pulaski. Our brigade was ordered
to support the first brigade, sixth division, in an attack on this
position. The enemy made strong resistance, and for some time the battle
raged without advantage on either side. Hammond's brigade was ordered
up. The 9th Indiana, with Companies I and D as skirmishers, advanced on
the enemy's left. His skirmishers were soon met and driven back on the
main line, lying along the top of the hill. A heavy fire was opened on
these two companies, and they were compelled to fall back on the
supporting column--which, going into line, advanced upon the enemy.
Meantime the brigade in advance had been repulsed, and fell back in
confusion,--the 7th Ohio cavalry breaking through the advancing column
between the 4th Tennessee and the remainder of the brigade. The 4th
charged gallantly and drove the pursuing enemy back into his works, but
the support being delayed by the demoralized 7th Ohio, failed to come
up, and the 4th was compelled to withdraw. Now it was that our regiment
advanced with the 2d Tennessee on our left. Coming within sight of the
defences, the whole line, with a yell and mighty rush, swept up the hill
over the works and across the opening after the flying foe, who
disappeared in the woods beyond. Company I had a place in this charge.
Company D, being on the right of the skirmish line, had, in falling
back, after helping develop the enemy's position, missed the supporting
column--having to go around a precipitous hill to rejoin the regiment,
only reached the scene in time to observe, but take no part in, the
charge, which closed the day's work.
Going into camp the weary soldier found time to remember that this was
Christmas day, and fill himself with the recollection of the Christmas
feasts of former years--precious "little else" he had to fill himself
with. Mud and snow below, clouds and rain above, all night long, was not
conducive to rest, but caused the boys the more readily to resume the
march next morning--the saddle being more comfortable than the camp.
The 26th opened with a heavy fog and gently falling rain. The 2d
Tennessee in advance, supported by the 9th Indiana, struck the enemy
about five miles from camp and drove him swiftly back on the main body,
which was strongly posted on the south bank of Sugar Creek, a deep and
rapid stream, with high and steep banks. The 2d Tennessee going into
line, was soon hotly engaged. The 9th debouched from the road and went
into line in reserve, but so near the first line that we were as fully
under fire as those in front.
To remain under fire from an unseen enemy, without the stimulus of
action, is a serious tax upon the courage of the average soldier. The 2d
Tennessee, after a few minutes' exchange of courtesies with the enemy,
were moved by the right flank to make room for us. Glad to move, the
regiment took its place in the position lately occupied by the 2d
Tennessee, while the 14th Ohio battery went into position near the line
just abandoned by us. All this time the enemy's fire was unceasing. On
reaching our new position we could see under the lifting fog, the creek
with its steep banks, and beyond it the log barricades, from behind
which constantly leaped forth the flame and smoke, accentuating the
"zip" of the spiteful bullets, which constantly cut the air around us.
From here we could also see the slender thread of road leading to the
ford, across which but two horses might pass abreast. As against mounted
men the position was impregnable. The situation was not encouraging,
contemplating which, an officer of the line got somewhat excited, and,
riding to and fro in front of the regiment, constantly shouting: "Don't
run, boys; for God's sake, don't run!"
This was an unnecessary appeal. Aside from the disorder arising from
falling horses, the line stood unwavering. A sharp reprimand from
Hammond, and this officer subsided. The fire of the enemy continued with
increasing vigor. It was returned by "the boys" with interest. Protected
by log works the enemy probably suffered no loss.
Two companies, under command of Capt. Cofer, were now sent to the left
to a hill commanding the rebel right and protecting our left flank. The
regiment, at the same time, moved to the right, making place for the
balance of the brigade in line. The two companies moving to the left
reached an angle in the hill--one arm running back parallel to our line
of advance, the other, and shorter arm, projecting toward the field of
battle. Dismounting behind the shorter arm, which thoroughly protected
the horses, the two companies scaled the hill and formed in line on its
top, overlooking the rebel works in the plain below. Company D took the
position nearest the field, the other company (Company I, probably),
going to the left, were in the act of deploying to guard against
surprise from the extreme left, when the enemy left his works, crossed
the creek, and wildly yelling, charged the centre of the main line,
driving them back probably three hundred yards, leaving the led horses
in a triangle, the base and perpendicular of which was too
"perpendicular" to climb, and the high position in the hands of the
enemy. Company D hurriedly scrambled down the hill, and, remounting,
dashed out through the astonished Confederates to a place of safety,
where, reforming, they rejoined the regiment. In their ride to the rear
Company D lost four enlisted men by capture. The horses of the other
company were also successfully brought off.
Cofer, with his company, hearing the battle surging back in the centre,
also tried to get back, but by the time the deployed line could be
rallied to return, they were met by a body of the enemy, who, seeing so
many led horses going to the rear, suspected the truth, and went up the
hill to see about it. Resistance was hopeless, flight seemed impossible,
but, with a rebel prison on the one hand, and a chance for safety in a
race with death on the other, was but a moment's hesitation. Running
back up the hill and making a wide detour, Indiana put in her "best
licks," and, although the rebels had the inner and by far the shorter
line, they escaped, amidst a storm of bullets, without a scratch, and
rejoined the regiment, much to their own satisfaction and greatly to the
relief of the remainder of the regiment, who had given them up for lost.
The brigade again advanced and drove the enemy back into his works. The
14th Ohio battery was now placed in position, and soon shelled them out,
and pursuit was continued some distance by a portion of the command, the
remainder soon going into camp.
These were the last rebels in arms seen by us in this campaign.
Subsistence for men and horses was becoming a serious question. We had
received no rations since leaving Nashville, twelve days before. There
had been little time for foraging. The resources of the country were
nearly exhausted by the rebel army--men and horses were worn out and
hungry. A few days were consumed in recruiting the horses and securing
supplies. The march was resumed and continued without incident of
special interest, except a very pleasant encampment at Taylor Springs
and a very unpleasant, not to say dangerous, crossing of Elk River,
ending at Gravelly Springs, where we went into winter quarters.
It was but a remnant of the 9th Cavalry that went into camp at the close
of this long march. By death, wounds, disease and capture we had lost
heavily. Those stopping by the way, from death or exhausting of horses,
added to the other losses--not more than two hundred effectives reached
this, our final, camp in Alabama. In considering the service of the 9th
Cavalry in this campaign, we will concede that other commands may have
done more fighting, but in promptly and effectually performing the
duties assigned, no regiment could have excelled the 9th Indiana.
Hammond, in his report, says: "During this campaign I have had continual
occasion to admire the bravery of both officers and men, and to lament
want of discipline." The discipline of our regiment was fairly good; the
officers, as a rule, had the respect and confidence of their men, who
yielded prompt obedience to all orders. Gen. Hammond never issued an
order, either in battle, on the march or in camp, that we did not try to
obey, whatever we may have thought of the wisdom of it.
It is the deliberate opinion of the writer, after twenty years'
experience with all sorts of people, that no finer body of men ever
lived than served together in the 9th Indiana Cavalry, and certain it is
no braver soldiers ever marched to battle.
[Illustration: Map of battle, December 1, 1861.]
Footnote 1:
NOTE A.--Of the affair at Wilson's Pike, December 1, 1864, Sergt.
Holt, of Co. E, writes as follows: