WHEELER’S RAID INTO MIDDLE TENNESSEE IN 1863.
In the latter part of September, 1863, just after the battle of
Chickamauga, by order of General Bragg, General Wheeler was sent
into Middle Tennessee with his cavalry corps. The Army of Tennessee
was occupying the field they had so gallantly won at Chickamauga.
He moved up the Cleveland Road to Red Clay, and forded the Tennessee
River at or near Cottonport, some thirty miles above Chattanooga.
The object of the raid was to cut off all supplies from the North for
Rosecrans’s army, then at Chattanooga. The Nashville and Chattanooga
Railroad from Bridgeport to Chattanooga was then in possession of the
Confederates. The opposite bank of the Tennessee was closely picketed
by the enemy, and the command was to keep as still as possible so as
not to draw their attention until we had crossed. We reached the ford
after a night’s ride, and rested there till daylight. I can never
forget the beauty and picturesqueness of the scene that was presented
that moonlight night, when four or five thousand cavalry forded the
beautiful Tennessee. It happened that the Fourth Tennessee Regiment
was in front; and, headed by a single guide, we descended the banks
and dropped into the river, and then the line swung down the stream
across the silvery surface of the broad waters, like the windings
of a huge dark serpent. When we reached the opposite shore, I looked
back upon the scene presented. This, with the reflection that we
had turned our faces homeward again after our glorious victory, was
soul-inspiring indeed. Nearly half a century has elapsed, but its
recollection is as vivid in my memory as it was then. No creation of
art could have been more imposing. There is too much stern reality in
a soldier’s life for such to claim his attention, but this scene has
left an impression that I can never forget.
As we reached the opposite shore the gray dawn of a bright September
morning was breaking upon us. About one-half of the regiment was
dismounted and silently moved up the bank. But a few moments had
elapsed before the bang of a solitary gun was heard, and in another
second bang! bang! bang! went the guns, and then a perfect fusillade.
All were now wide awake, and the stillness of the scene was suddenly
transformed into busy preparation for a fight. Another regiment was
hurried forward, and thundered down the road leading from the river
in the direction of the firing. A few more shots were heard, and all
was still again. A large picket of mounted men had been driven off
with the loss of several men and some prisoners. The remainder of the
command moved out from the river as they came over, and in due time
all were safely over. The trail of the ford was a devious one and
very deep in places. One would reasonably suppose that many mishaps
would have occurred, but nothing of a serious character happened.
The command then moved toward Middle Tennessee across the mountains
into the Sequatchie Valley, where we went into camp for the night
at the crossroads. Nothing of note occurred during the day. About
daylight the following morning we were aroused by an order to saddle
up and mount our horses, as the bugle sounded “boots and saddles.”
In a few moments more we were moving down the valley at a rapid
rate, not knowing at the time what was up. How vividly these stirring
scenes flit across my memory! And how many incidents of dash and
spirit do they bring to mind of the early morning “racket, when
from out the empty saddlebows bravely they fell!” A few miles away
we commenced overhauling Federal wagons, partially plundered; then
the cry of a wagon train was raised. As the pace quickened, these
captures thickened along the way; and after going ten or twelve
miles down the valley to the vicinity of Jasper, there opened the
richest scene that the eye of a cavalryman can behold. Along the
side of the mountain hundreds of large Federal wagons were standing,
with their big white covers on them, like so many African elephants,
solemn in their stately grandeur. They had been rushed up there by
the teamsters and abandoned. This was too rich a bonanza to be left
without an escort; and in a few moments the rifles sounded from the
mountain sides, indicating that we would have to do some fighting for
such booty. Men were dismounted in haste and hurried to the right and
left. A vigorous fire was kept up for a while, when the enemy, seeing
that they were greatly outnumbered, surrendered after some casualties
on both sides. The escort numbered 1,200, with many drivers of the
wagons. Some of them had escaped by cutting loose the mules and
mounting them. We knew that there was a large infantry force not many
miles away, and we set to work destroying everything at once. Orders
were given that no plunder was to be carried off. This, however,
was but partially enforced. The wagons were loaded with all manner
of clothing and rations for the army of General Rosecrans. Among
the wagons were a number belonging to sutlers, with rich stores of
all kinds. The result of the capture was seven hundred and fifty
wagons, twenty-six hundred fat mules, and twelve hundred prisoners.
The wagons, or the most of them, were loaded with rations for the
army. The enemy were afraid to risk railroad transportation, and were
endeavoring to provision their army at Chattanooga by means of wagons
from McMinnville. It had rained the night before and left the roads
so slippery that the wagons could not go over the steep mountain
pass. Such of the mules as we could not take off were destroyed.
The wagons and the greater part of their contents were destroyed on
the spot, the débris covering acres of ground. I was particularly
struck with the fine harness that had been stripped from the mules,
as it lay chin-deep over ten acres of ground. Such a calamity as this
would have been most seriously felt by us, and would have retarded
movements for months; but with “Uncle Sam,” with all the world at his
back, it made no perceptible difference. If it created a ripple of
discomfort anywhere, we never had the satisfaction of knowing it.
From here we moved on toward McMinnville, traveling all night long
with the prisoners, mules, and a few of the wagons. General Dibrell
had been sent forward from the crossroads where we camped to take
McMinnville. We reached there the next morning. Dibrell had captured
the garrison of four hundred, with stores that had been shipped
there by rail to be transported by wagon train to Chattanooga. It
was said that there was a full suit of clothing for every soldier in
Rosecrans’s army, besides an immense amount of rations. During the
night we overtook the guard in charge of the prisoners on foot. As we
passed them I noticed a boy among them who could not have been over
ten or twelve years of age, dressed in full Federal uniform. I asked
him what he was doing there, and he answered that he was a soldier
and a marker for a Michigan regiment. I took him up behind me and
carried him the remainder of the night, leaving him with the guard
in charge of other prisoners captured at McMinnville. We now had
about sixteen hundred prisoners on our hands, and the most perilous
part of our raid was still before us. So it was concluded that we
would parole them. Marching them out a few miles from McMinnville,
we ordered them to hold up their right hands, swearing not to take up
arms again until they were legally exchanged, and then started them
toward the Kentucky line. How many of them observed their parole,
we will never know; but it seemed to us then and afterwards that for
every one we killed or captured half a dozen would rise up in their
places. When we lost a man, he was “dead for certain,” and, worse
still, none was to be had to stand in his place. In fact, it was this
that forced us to quit fighting after four years, during which time
we had the satisfaction of knowing that we were giving them about
all they could stand up to, and this after calling to their aid the
negroes and an immense foreign importation.
From McMinnville General Wheeler moved toward Murfreesboro. The
column was a very long and cumbersome one with the mules and wagons
we were attempting to take with us. We must have been close on the
rear of the column, for by the time we reached Woodbury (one-half of
the distance) we were in a gallop; and when we reached Murfreesboro
we were at running speed. We found the command in line of battle
close up to the town, forming a semicircle covering the roads leading
to the south. We took position in line, and remained there probably
half the day, expecting every moment to be ordered to charge the
town. All at once we moved in column down the Shelbyville Pike. The
object was then comprehended to be a feint to cover the passing of
the led stock and wagons. During the halt here miles of railroad
track was destroyed. Christiana is a station on the Chattanooga
Railroad where a ludicrous little episode transpired _en passant_.
The pike was about half a mile from the station, but in sight. A body
of bluecoats were seen about the station, and a small troop was sent
over to take them in. After approaching the place, something like a
cannon was observed upon an eminence back of the station, with the
gunners standing about it ready to fire. The information was sent
back to the pike, and one of Lieutenant White’s guns was brought
down. About the time it was placed in position to rake the station
half a dozen white handkerchiefs were flaunted in the air. We went
over to receive the surrender, and the would-be artillery was found
to be an ordinary stovepipe set on a couple of wagon wheels. There
was a set of about one hundred jolly, well-fed fellows, belonging
to an Indiana regiment. They were well fixed up and were equipped
with every paraphernalia for camp life--in fact, they had more
plunder about them than a brigade of our army. Of this, what was not
appropriated was destroyed, with apologies, however, to our newly
made friends, whom we paroled and started back toward Murfreesboro.
Many detours of this kind were made from the main column during the
raid, and hundreds of prisoners were taken and much property was
destroyed.
At Shelbyville we expected to make a fight, as it was reported that
a considerable force of the enemy was there and were prepared for
us. On approaching the place the next morning, we found they had
evacuated the town. Before leaving they had torn down the courthouse
on the Square, and with the débris blocked all the streets leading
to it. Had they held their ground, certainly some blood would have
been spilled before taking the place. We found a great many shops,
sutler’s stores, etc., in the town, well supplied with goods of every
description. These were owned by the Northern camp followers, who
failed to get sufficient warning for their removal. Such plunder
was considered as legitimate for capture as a United States mule
or wagon, and to many it was much more acceptable. No Southern
sympathizer would be granted this privilege. Commanding officers
would attempt to restrain in a degree, but efforts were generally
futile; and the result was that, after a raiding party had left a
place, not much was left to commence business on again. Both armies
pleaded alike to this charge. I noticed soldiers moving out of town
with their horses heavily laden with some articles that you would
imagine were the last things they would have need of. A couple of
ladies had come to town that morning to make some purchases. When
they saw what had happened, they waved their handkerchiefs and
cheered lustily for Jeff Davis. The soldiers gathered around them,
filled their buggy full of goods, and then escorted them out of the
town.
From here the command moved out near the Lewisburg and Nashville Pike
and went into camp. I think we remained there as long as two days.
It is said that General Wheeler’s object was to await the return
of scouting parties. We had created such a stir among the enemy
that they took the time to set on our trail all the forces that
were available. It seemed that it should have been the policy of
the commanding general to have hastened our escape at this time, as
the men, I am sorry to say, were so full of plunder that fighting had
gone out of their minds, and they were anxious to get to a safe place
where they could make an inventory of their property. However, we
moved out one morning toward Lewisburg. The Fourth Tennessee and the
First Kentucky Regiments were the rear guard. The first intimation
that we had of the presence of the enemy was when cannon balls came
crashing through the timber and we could hear the firing of our men
and the enemy out on the pike, half a mile off. We sent Captain Wyly,
of the Fourth Tennessee, down in that direction. He returned in a few
moments, reporting that the enemy were between us and the remainder
of the command. Lieut. Col. Paul Anderson and Colonel Chenyworth, of
the First Kentucky, held a hasty consultation, when it was concluded
that we would cut our way through. When this was announced, it was
amusing to see the men falling out of their new Yankee uniforms and
donning the faded gray again. It was more amusing still, as I think
of it, when the gallant Colonel Chenyworth waved his sword over his
head and took his position in front of his regiment, crying out in
a loud voice, “Follow me, my brave Kentuckians!” as we moved down
a blind pathway overhung with bushes. The two regiments had hardly
gotten straightened out when bang! bang! went the enemy’s guns,
seemingly only a few paces distant in the dense growth. The order
was given, “Right into line;” and we moved through the woods one
hundred yards or more, when we could see to our left a narrow lane
leading out to the pike, and could see our men engaged fighting the
enemy. Then the order was given, “Left into column,” as we made for
the lane. Fortunately, this lane was old and well-worn, and the
roadway dipped considerably. By drooping on their horses’ necks,
this, with the fence, afforded protection to the men from the firing
of the enemy, about a hundred yards across a little field. The two
regiments went through with but few casualties, and joined with the
remainder of the command in the fight. When I meet an old comrade
who was present, he always asks: “Did you ever see as much kindling
wood flying in the air as at that time?” Here opened up what is well
remembered as the battle of Farmington. I wish I were prepared with
the data to give a correct account of this fight, but I am unable
from memory to give more than the results. I think both sides lost
about equally in killed and wounded--say, about two hundred each.
We fought for two hours, when General Wheeler learned that a large
column of the enemy both in our rear and on the right flank was
moving to surround us. The Confederates quietly and without pursuit
moved off down the pike toward Lewisburg. The enemy afterwards
picked up and made prisoners about one hundred of our men who had
not joined the column when the fight took place. Among the number of
Confederates captured at the battle of Farmington was the present
well-known and efficient Secretary of the State Pension Board, Capt.
John P. Hickman. He and his squad had been on detail duty, and were
endeavoring to get to their company when captured. He was probably
the youngest man in his company. He was confined in Rock Island
Prison, and was not released until some weeks after the surrender of
the armies. General Wharton, Colonel Cook, Major Christian, Captain
Jarmin, and Capt. Polk Blackburn were among the wounded. Blackburn
was very seriously wounded, and was thereby rendered incapable of
further service during the war. He is now living at Lynnville, Giles
County. Tenn., as one of the best-known and most worthy citizens of
the county. He has represented that county several times in the State
Legislature. The enemy ought to have destroyed us at Farmington. The
Confederates were flushed with booty, and the Federals were smarting
under their heavy losses in men and material.
We camped at Cornersville that night, along the road. It was quite
cold, and the men had to burn (what the owner doubtless thought
afterwards) a considerable amount of rails. The next day we passed
through Pulaski. Here the Fourth Tennessee was detailed to hold till
sundown the bridge that spans Richland Creek. The remainder of the
command passed on toward the ford at Bainbridge, on the Tennessee
River. We sat upon our horses that evening and watched for hours
long lines of Federals as they came over the hills into the town,
and expected every moment for them to open upon us. We were commanded
to hold the bridge at all hazards--in fact, to be sacrificed, if
need be, for the good of the cause. All of which would have read very
heroically to the boys of the fourth reader of the next generation,
but it was void of sentiment to us as we watched with supreme
satisfaction the god of day sink behind the western horizon. Never
had we seen so lovely a sunset. We ventured five minutes longer at
the post, and then followed the command. We traveled all night and
overtook the rear guard a few miles from the river the next morning.
It consisted of about two hundred and fifty men, a remnant of Gen.
John Morgan’s command after his capture in Indiana. They were in
command of that gallant soldier Capt. J. D. Kirkpatrick, whom we knew
well; and to many of the men we expressed our fear of their capture,
as we knew that the enemy had been convinced of our intention and
were now pressing us vigorously with a heavy force. We passed on to
the river, which we forded without interruption, near Bainbridge,
Ala. Our conjectures about Captain Kirkpatrick proved too true, for
we learned afterwards from those who escaped that the enemy rushed
upon them from every point of the compass, frenzied that we should
escape so successfully. About one-half of the men were killed or
wounded and captured, not, however, without having inflicted severe
loss upon their assailants.
Thus ended Wheeler’s celebrated raid in 1863, commencing at the
crossing of the Tennessee River at Cottonport, above Chattanooga,
and ending with the crossing of the Tennessee River at Bainbridge,
Ala.--about four weeks’ time in passing from crossing to crossing.
The result was as follows: We killed, wounded, and captured of
the enemy three thousand men; burned and brought out one thousand
wagons; captured thirty-five hundred mules and horses, half of which
I suppose we had to abandon in the fight at Farmington. I cannot
estimate the loss of the enemy in stores of clothing, provisions,
arms and ammunition, the destruction of miles of railroad tracks,
bridges, engines, etc., but it was immense. Our own loss in men,
from all causes, was eleven hundred, which loss was replaced to a
great extent by new recruits and absentees we brought out with us.