Union Men Scarce -- How they are Dreaded -- Incidents -- The
Wealthy Secessionists and Poor Union Widows -- The John
Morgans of Rebellion -- A Contraband's Explanation of the
Mystery -- Accident at the South Tunnel -- Impudence of the
Rebels -- A Pathetic Appeal, etc.
Camp near Gallatin, Tenn., _November 20, 1862_.
A trip from the tunnel to Gallatin, and back, is a good day's sport,
for it behooves all to be on the alert, to avoid being captured by
citizen guerrillas. A number of this brigade have already been
"gobbled up," while out hunting luxuries at farm-houses. This became
so frequent that the General in command issued an order prohibiting
the boys from leaving camp without special permission.
Folks at home have frequently heard of the strong Union sentiment
pervading Tennessee, but, "cuss me" if I haven't hunted in vain for
the article during the past two weeks, and, with no exception
whatever, save among the laboring class, have I found an out-and-out
Union man. They answer with a "double meaning," when questioned, and
are _professed_ Union men while the army is here, and strong
Secessionists when the rebel army can protect them.
The fact is, all the true Union men have been driven by the merciless
foe into the woods--at any rate from their homes. Acts of the most
fiendish barbarity have been committed, and the aiders and abettors
are within a few miles of this camp, unmolested, enjoying the comforts
of a home, while the true patriot, driven from his family to the hills
of his native State, is
"Unsheltered by night, and unrested by day;
The heath for his barracks--revenge for his pay."
An incident occurred in General Fry's division a few days since. Two
of the 2d Minnesota Regiment, John A. Smith and Mr. Mervis, both of
St. Paul, went out, by permission of their captain, in search of
butter and eggs. They took two good horses with them, and although a
week has passed, neither men nor horses have returned. The sequel
proves that these men were captured by armed residents of this
neighborhood, as yesterday a company were sent out for forage, and
with them a number of servants were sent for eatables. Arriving at the
house of 'Squire McMurray, a well-known Secessionist, who has two sons
in the rebel army, the boys made inquiries of the servants in regard
to their missing comrades, and found out they had been taken by a
party of guerrillas from near this very house. The old scoundrel
McMurray openly exulted over the fact, and thought it very comical to
have the "Yankees" jerked up once in awhile. "It will teach them,"
said he, "to stay at home." The boys wanted to purchase some chickens
and turkeys, but he refused to sell to "Yanks," swearing his turkeys
were not fattened for "Down-easters." Mrs. McMurray hurriedly came
out, and ordered all her black servants in the house, as she said she
didn't want her niggers contaminated with "sich white trash."
About two hours after this conversation the brigade teams _drove up_,
and soon _drove off_ with ten loads of corn and oats, amounting to
sixty dollars. 'Squire McMurray refused to receive a voucher offered
by the Quarter-master, and said they were of no account to him--it was
only a trick of the Abolition Government to rob the farmers; they had
already sixty wagon-loads, and he guessed he could spare a few more.
This man has a splendid farm, finely stocked with valuable imported
Cashmere sheep, some of them worth from four to five hundred dollars
apiece. This man is living in luxury, and upon ground that should be
occupied by the poor and devoted families of those who, by his
connivance, have been driven forth upon the world. Yet the great
shield of the law--the law he has so basely violated, the Constitution
he has, and yet does, openly defy--is made his safeguard. Is it at all
astonishing our men weary of this favoritism, this premium upon
traitors?
Let me tell your readers of what I was an eye-witness, a few evenings
ago. You that have comfortable homes and warm firesides, with no war
at your doors, can have but a faint idea of the horrors that are
broadcast over this once happy country. A poor woman came to the
commanding General of this brigade and begged for protection. She
lived eight miles from this camp, and the rebels had threatened to
burn her barn and house. Now, what do you think was this woman's
offense? Her husband had joined the Union army at Nashville last
August, and when, a few days afterward, he returned to arrange his
family affairs, the "guerillas" found out his return, and five of the
incarnate fiends walked into his house, and while he was seated at the
table, partaking of his breakfast, these men shot him--there, in the
presence of his wife and six children, these fiends, that our worthy
President deliberately "commutes," murdered their only protector; and
now, not satisfied with their former atrocity, they return to drive
the poor widow and her children from the desolate little homestead!
O! if there is one hell deeper than another, please, God, send these
wretches, who would persecute a poor woman thus, to it!
The General, upon hearing the story of her troubles, sent out two
companies of the 2d Minnesota Regiment to guard and bring into camp
her children, and what few chattels were left. Company A, under
Captain Barnes, and Company G, under Captain Keifer, were assigned to
perform this act of deserved charity.
It was ten o'clock at night, cold and windy, the rain penetrating to
the very bones, and dark as Egypt, when the two companies returned
with Mrs. Crane and her six children. One rickety wagon, a mangy old
horse, a cow, some bedding, and a few cooking utensils, were the
trophies of the trip. These things told a tale of poverty, but they
were all the poor widow of the murdered soldier possessed.
The children were all barefooted, and most scantily attired; the
little ones shivered with the cold, and the older ones wrapped their
tattered garments closer as the wind played rudely with them. A little
four-year-old boy eyed the soldiers with a side glance, and clung to
his mother, as she held her infant to her breast.
If I were to decide what to do in such a case, I would quickly turn
out Mr. 'Squire McMurray, and let Mrs. Crane and her little ones
possess the well-stocked farm. To-day the General is endeavoring to
get transportation to Indiana for this family, at the expense of the
Government.
An old negro resident near this camp, in conversation, a few days
since, said to me:
"Look-a-heah! all you white folks, when any debbeltry is done, allers
lay it to Massa John Morgan."
"Well," said I, "don't he do a large share of it?"
"Yes, he does do a heap; but, Lor bress you, massa, gib de _debble_
his due; he don't do de half what de white folks say. You see dat
tunnel, don't you?" said he, rolling the white of his eyes to the
obliteration of all sight of the pupil.
"Yes, I see it," I replied.
"Well, sah! Massa Morgan had no more to do wid dat tunnel dan you do
yourself. Morgan _warnt_ no way nigh dis place when dat was done; de
folks what lib all round here was de _Morganses_ what do dat work;
why, dey done toted rails for _free_ days, and packed 'em in dat
tunnel, and we darkeys had to help 'em, and den dey set 'em on fire,
and sich a cracklin' as you nebber heard, and in less dan a week
ebbery body all over de country was a-tellin' about how as _John
Morgan burnt de tunnel_."
IMPUDENCE OF THE REBELS.
"Here, sir, I've got an order for you," said an acknowledged
well-known rebel citizen, as he entered the head-quarters of the
General commanding the Third Brigade of the First Division of the
Ohio. From the pompous manner of the Tennesseean, the General didn't
know, for a moment, but that he was about being ordered under arrest
by the citizen. The General merely replied in his usual style:
"The hell you have, sir! Who is it from?"
"From General Fry, sir."
"Ah! let me see it."
The order was produced. It requested the General not to allow too much
of any one man's stock of corn to be taken. The General read the
_request_, and instantly inquired of the Tennesseean: "Are you a Union
man?" and as instantly received the reply of "No, sir, I am not."
"Then, G----d d----n you, sir, how dare you have the impudence to come
within my lines?"
The Tennesseean, seeing he had a man of the pure grit to deal with,
shook slightly in his boots, and did not put on so much "style," and
was about to explain something, when the General interrupted him with
a quick order to leave forthwith, or he would have a dozen bayonets in
his rear "d----n quick."
"But, General, how shall I get out of camp? Won't you _please_ give me
a pass?"
"Me give a pass to a rebel! No, sir. How did you get within my lines?"
"Why, sir, I just walked straight in."
"Well, sir, you can just walk straight out, and if ever I see you
inside my lines again, I'll have you sent where you belong; and, after
this, when you have any 'order' for me, if it is from General Halleck,
'or any other man,' don't you dare to bring it, but _send_ it in to
me, or you will rue the day."
A PATHETIC APPEAL.
I found the following "pathetic" appeal from the women of New Orleans.
It was laid carefully by, with a lock of hair, bearing the
inscription, "To Mary Looker, from her cousin Jane. Please send this
appeal to all our male friends around Gallatin."
"AN APPEAL FROM THE WOMEN OF NEW ORLEANS.
"To every Soldier:
"We turn to you in mute agony! Behold our wrongs, fathers!
husbands! brothers! sons! We know these bitter, burning
wrongs will be fully avenged. Never did Southern women
appeal in vain for protection from insult! But, for the
sakes of our sisters throughout the South, with tears we
implore you not to surrender your cities, 'in consideration
of the defenseless women and children.' Do not leave your
women to the merciless foe! Would it not have been better
for New Orleans to have been laid in ruins, and we buried
beneath the mass, than subjected to these untold sufferings?
Is life so priceless a boon that, for the preservation of
it, no sacrifice is too great? Ah, no! ah, no! Rather let us
die with you! O, our fathers! rather, like Virginius, plunge
your own swords into our breasts, saying, 'This is all we
can give our daughters.'
"The Daughters of the South.
"New Orleans, _May 14, 1862_."
[Illustration: Old Stonnicker drummed out of Camp. See page 284.]