COLONEL ROY S. CLUKE’S KENTUCKY RAID, FEBRUARY-MARCH, 1863
On the 14th of February, 1863, a small brigade of Kentucky cavalry
assembled at McMinnville, Tennessee. Seven hundred and fifty men
constituted the organization. The 8th Kentucky cavalry, of which Roy
S. Cluke was colonel, Major Robert S. Bullock commanding, was to
form the basis of the men to be used in an expedition into Central
Kentucky. Lieutenant Colonel Cicero Coleman of the regiment had
been seriously wounded at Hartsville on the 7th of December, and
still suffering, was unable to go. In addition to the 8th Kentucky
cavalry, the 9th Kentucky cavalry furnished two companies under the
command of Colonel Robert G. Stoner, who was one of the bravest
and most enterprising of Morgan’s men. These constituted the first
battalion. Companies C and I of Gano’s regiment and Company A of the
2nd Kentucky, under command of Major Theophilus Steele, constituted
the second battalion. Later, in Wayne County, Companies D and I of
Chenault’s (the 11th) regiment, were added to Stoner’s battalion.
Colonel Cluke was allowed a couple of brass cannon, howitzers,
affectionately called by Morgan’s men the “bull pups.” They never
did very great damage, but they made a loud noise. They looked to
an enemy much bigger than they were, and if they were not very
effective with their shots, they were oftentimes extremely forceful
with their “barking.”
No seven hundred and fifty men were ever more ably commanded. Colonel
Cluke was not only a brave but a brilliant officer.
General Morgan furnished his two brothers as part of the staff. The
best possible material was designated for this service. The men
chosen for this raid were thoroughly acquainted with most of the
territory through which Colonel Cluke would necessarily have to
pass. The companies of the 11th would know Madison and the adjoining
counties, Companies C and I of the 3rd Kentucky (Gano’s) would know
Scott and Franklin Counties. Company A of the 2nd would be familiar
with almost the entire Bluegrass, and Cluke’s own regiment would
know Kentucky from Maysville to Springfield and Somerset. He started
out with the advantage of men who had full and complete knowledge
of the country through which he was to operate. This added much to
the efficiency of the little brigade. Lieutenant Shuck, of the 8th
Kentucky, was given the command of the advance guard. The importance
of the advance guard in cavalry campaigns cannot be over-estimated.
It requires officers of great coolness, of much dash, dauntless
courage, and men who never counted the cost and who would follow in
the face of any danger wherever they were ordered to go. In such an
expedition scouts would also play a most useful and prominent part.
To Lieutenant Hopkins, of the 2nd, and S. P. Cunningham, of the 8th,
were given the choice and control of the scouts. Neither the advance
guard nor the scouts made a very large force. All told, they did not
exceed forty, but these were men upon whom any commander could rely
at any hour of day or night and in any place whither they might come.
At McMinnville a hundred rounds of ammunition were counted out and
six days’ rations were issued to the men upon the morning that
they marched away. Nature did not appear to be in harmony with the
purposes of this expedition. The weather was extremely inclement,
and, for that part of Tennessee, extraordinarily cold. Hardly had the
line been formed until sleet and rain and snow came violently down.
These, with the tramping of the horses’ feet, soon made veritable
sloughs of the dirt roads over which the march was progressing. The
line pursued ran through Sparta, Obey City, Jamestown, in Tennessee,
to the Kentucky border. This country presented a scene of universal
desolation. In times of peace it was not fully able to supply the
needs of its own inhabitants, and now that armies had traversed it
for more than a year, there was not sufficient forage at any one
place to feed one company of horsemen. The six days’ coarse rations
given the men in their haversacks at McMinnville would keep them from
want, but the horses, with hardest possible service in the midst of
fearfully disagreeable weather, could only hope for scantiest and
most insufficient provender. The entire one hundred and ten miles
from McMinnville to the Cumberland River had been, before this
period, practically eaten out of house and home, and there was little
left for the strangers who might pass these mountain ways.
The Cumberland River was the only real barrier to this small force
as it entered Kentucky. Once it was passed, there would be so many
roads for the invaders to take that it would be impossible for the
defenders to either stop their march or seriously impede their
journeyings. The banks of the Cumberland were full. The Federals
on the north side had taken all boats across to prevent passage by
an enemy. Luckily, a canoe was found hidden away, large enough to
convey Colonel Stoner and Lieutenant Hopkins and several men over
the stream. These silently and stealthily paddled across. Some
countryman, without the fear of “blue coats” before his eyes, had
stored this craft in the bushes along a small tributary. He had
probably used it in secret ferrying of goods to the south bank. With
plenty of everything on the north side, it was not treason to keep
a canoe hidden, with which, when no picket was present, or his eye
not open, to run across the boundary calico, sugar, coffee or other
necessities, so essential to the war-despoiled women and children on
the south side, upon whom starvation and want had laid heavy hand.
Colonel Stoner and his cavalry comrades were fortunate and shrewd
enough to surprise and capture the Federal pickets who were posted
to guard Stigall’s Ferry, a short distance north of Burnside, where
Colonel Cluke had proposed and now determined to cross. A couple
of flatboats and a coal barge were discovered amongst the Federal
possessions, and these were quickly brought over. Now, in the face
of vigorous foes, action was the watchword of the hour. With their
saddles and guns, the men hastily rushed into the flatboats and
poled and paddled over the stream. A more desperate mode of crossing
was assigned to the horses. It was still bitter cold, and the poor
beasts were forced into the river and compelled to swim its rapid
currents. They could not speak, and they hesitated to plunge in; but
the shouts and belaborings of their apparently cruel masters were
more potent than their fears, and with only their noses above the
water, and their bodies beneath the frigid waves, lapped into motion
by the piercing winds, they swam diagonally across to the opposite
shore. Already weakened by a trying march of more than a hundred
miles, so great was the shock to the animals that a number of them
were chilled to death and died upon the bank as they emerged from the
water.
The severity of the winter rendered very rapid marching impossible.
On the 19th of February, the little army reached Somerset, the
county seat of Pulaski. A strong Federal force was stationed there,
but alarmed by reports of an army of Confederates approaching from
Knoxville, they hurriedly retreated to Danville, forty-five miles
away and left a clear road for Colonel Cluke. Here a full supply of
stores had been collected. Their guardians were in such a great hurry
to ride to Danville that they forgot, or neglected, to destroy them.
This was a gracious windfall for the Confederates. The Government and
the sutlers had the very things these benumbed men and horses most
needed. After supplying his tired beasts and hungry soldiers with
all that was necessary to comfort, warm and feed them, and burning
the remainder, Colonel Cluke made a forced march of twenty-eight
miles to Mount Vernon. If he accomplished his work it was important
to surprise his enemies, and in such work Colonel Cluke was a master
hand. Finding nothing here, he pushed on to Richmond, Kentucky. The
roads were wet, sloppy, slushy, and still blinding snowstorms and
heavy rains with chilling currents, rushing down from the north,
attempted to bid defiance to these sturdy riders, to stay their
advance and render their march more harassing and tedious.
Lieutenant Cunningham, who was with Lieutenant Hopkins in command of
the scouts, was a man of almost superhuman courage and of a genius
and resource that entitled him to higher command. A few miles out on
the pike from Richmond, advancing with eight men, he found a picket
post of the Federals, consisting of four videttes. Challenged, he
declared that he and his followers were friends. Dressed in blue
coats, such as they were wearing, and which were a part of the
Somerset find, he persuaded the Federals that they were a detachment
of Woolford’s Federal cavalry which was returning from Tennessee
to Kentucky to assist in repelling the raid of Morgan’s men. He
told the questioning videttes that all the Federal forces were now
concentrating at Lexington, that General John C. Breckinridge, by way
of Cumberland Gap, had already entered the State with ten thousand
Confederate infantry. The sergeant quickly became communicative
and gave Cunningham a statement of the location and strength of
all the Federal commands, and finally invited the Confederates to
go to a house a short distance away, where the remainder of the
picket detail was stationed. Cunningham cheerfully accepted the
proffered hospitality of his new-made friends, but upon reaching the
house he was somewhat embarrassed to find that twenty-four soldiers
constituted this outpost. He persuaded the commander to send back one
of his men with two of the Confederates to get information about some
other of the Federal forces that were coming a short distance behind.
The Federal, thus despatched, when out of sight of the post, quickly
found himself a prisoner. Hopkins, Cunningham’s associate commander
of scouts, in a brief while, arrived on the scene with eight new
blue-coated riders. The Confederates, now two-thirds in number of the
Federal garrison, without parley or argument immediately announced
their identity and attacked their hospitable and surprised friends,
and killed one, wounded two, and made all the others prisoners. The
generosity of the course pursued by Cunningham was open to serious
criticism, but warriors do not carry copies of Chesterfield’s rules
in their pockets and find little use for their precepts and teachings
on cavalry raids.
No outpost was ever captured more cleverly or more completely
surprised, and few similar incidents reflect more credit on the
actors.
Ten miles away there were two hundred and fifty Federal cavalry. This
was just exactly what Cluke wanted. Fresh horses, cavalry saddles and
ammunition would be a great comfort to the men who rode with him,
but the story of Breckinridge’s coming had reached Richmond. Rumors
traveled in those days on the winds—and the Federal cavalry hastily
decamped. Major Steele, with three companies, pursued these fleeing
troops. He overtook them at Comb’s Ferry, on the Kentucky River,
twelve miles from Lexington, and, fighting and running, drove the
Federal column into the city. In attempting to capture some videttes,
who had indicated they would surrender, one of the Federals fired
his rifle at Steele’s breast, but a thick Mexican blanket folded
about his body saved his life and protected him from injury except
a broken rib. It was a serious misfortune that a man so brave and
enterprising, so thoroughly acquainted with the geography of the
territory over which the operations of the next thirty-five days
would extend, should at this critical moment, became incapacitated
for active service.
Colonel Cluke was now far into Kentucky. He was over two hundred
miles from where he started. He had been out nine days. He had no
easy job. He had worked his way, he had seen much of the enemy and
at every point had mystified and alarmed the Federal commands. He
and his subordinates had managed to escape from very serious battle.
Detachments were sent in every direction to increase the terror
of the Federal forces at Lexington, Mount Sterling, Paris. They
threatened, attacked and captured several important positions, and
his enemies, magnifying his forces, sat down inactive until they
should determine whether Breckinridge and the ten thousand infantry
behind this dashing cavalry advance were really coming, and until
they could count Cluke’s followers and figure up just what they would
go against if they might force him to battle.
Cluke’s men who lived in the immediate vicinity of Lexington, Mount
Sterling, Winchester and Richmond were granted temporary furloughs
in order to visit their friends, renew their wardrobes, and, if
desirable, replace their mounts, and enjoy the association with their
loved ones whom they had left four and a half months before. Only the
complete mystification and demoralization of his foes could justify
so astute a leader as Cluke in risking such a proceeding. Happy days
for these bold riders. The four and a half months of absence had been
full of excitement, adventures and war experiences. The march out of
Kentucky, the Battle of Hartsville, the Christmas raid, were stories
that sounded well in the telling and impressed those who stayed at
home with the courage and marvelous achievements of the narrators
who, in the partial eyes of home folks, at least, were transformed
into real heroes,—these boys who had gone away to fight for the South.
Ceaseless activity marked every hour of those who had not been
furloughed. Demonstrations on Paris confined the garrison there,
while Stoner, moving back to Mount Sterling, found a Federal Kentucky
cavalry regiment, which, with a small force, he promptly attacked and
drove away. He captured many prisoners and the road by which these
Federals retreated was strewn with overcoats, guns, haversacks and
wagons, which unmistakably demonstrated that some of those who were
hunting Cluke did not just now desire a formal introduction.
On the 24th of February Colonel Cluke had concentrated his command
at Mount Sterling, and the whole day was spent in collecting and
distributing horses, equipments and arms. By this time the Federals
had become somewhat doubtful and inquisitive about the strength
of the invaders. The ten thousand infantry did not show up from
Cumberland Gap, and they began to realize that the Confederate
detachment, which had given them all this trouble and hard riding
and had alarmed them so terribly, was probably not, after all, a
very great army. All sorts of dreams and visions came to the Federal
pursuers. Colonel Runkle of the 45th Ohio Regiment, Acting Brigadier
General, reported: “I was confident of cutting the enemy to pieces
between Richmond and the Kentucky River.” Of his march to Winchester
he wrote, “The inhabitants reported that they threw their dead into
the stream (Slate) and carried off the wounded.”
A Federal cavalry brigade made a dash at Mount Sterling, Cluke’s
headquarters. Only two hundred men of the command were on hand at
that particular moment. Furloughs had decimated Cluke’s forces and
they were glad to get out of the town, but they were gladder still
that the Federals did not pursue them. A Federal officer, reporting
the occurrence, wrote: “The rebels had a heavy guard out here and
made a show of fighting, but when we fired on them they rang the
bells in town and all went out in a huddle. The rebels burned
their wagons and threw everything away they had stolen.” He also
said, “We heard heavy firing yesterday below here in direction of
Jeffersonville. Suppose Miner has cut them off, which I ordered him
to do.” The cutting off was more imaginative than real.
The sound of the Federal guns had not died away before four hundred
of Cluke’s furloughed men hastened to the relief of their retreating
companions. The Federal cavalry established itself at Mount Sterling
but left Colonel Cluke in command of the surrounding country.
Oftentimes in partisan war, strategy is as important as men.
Lieutenant Cunningham was sent to threaten Lexington. Among the
scouts was Clark Lyle. Young, vigorous, brave and enterprising, he
now undertook a most perilous mission. Cunningham had sent a spy
disguised in Federal uniform to the headquarters of the officer
commanding at Mount Sterling, and this shrewd messenger was smart
enough to put in his pocket some blank printed forms which lay upon
the table of the commandant. One of these was filled up as an order
purporting to be from the commander at Lexington, Kentucky, directing
the commander at Mount Sterling to march instantly to Paris, twenty
miles north of Lexington to repel a raid which was impending by the
Confederates against the Kentucky Central Railroad, which connected
Cincinnati and Lexington.
Lyle, dressed in full Federal uniform, rode into Mount Sterling at
the top of his speed, lashing his horse at every step. The animal was
reeking with foam. He rushed to the headquarters of the commander,
Colonel Runkle, and delivered the orders. The bugles were instantly
sounded, and the Federal cavalry brigade moved out to Paris. Hardly
had the sound of the jingling sabres ceased along the macadam road
which led from Mount Sterling to Paris, before Cluke, with his
reorganized force, re-entered the town and captured the garrison
and the stores. He found Mount Sterling a most delightful place to
remain. It was only twenty miles from Winchester and only a few more
from Richmond. The predominating element was Confederate, and Colonel
Cluke remained for some eight days, enjoying the hospitality of his
people and feasting upon the good things with which the Bluegrass was
replete. The Federal commander, concerning this, said: “Found order
false on 27th. I received order to pursue Cluke and use him up, which
I proceeded to do.” A Federal major, not to be outdone in giving an
account of his past, said that he had received orders to find Cluke
and that he “moved forward like hell.” Somehow or other these active
and ferocious commanders never got where Cluke was. The Federals,
however, became dissatisfied with Cluke’s occupation and coming in
full force, they drove him across Slate Creek into the Kentucky
Mountains. Detachments with Stoner, coming past Middletown and around
Mount Sterling, were roughly handled by the Federals, but with small
loss they reached the main force, when Cluke, hearing that Humphrey
Marshall with three thousand soldiers was advancing into Kentucky,
fell back to Hazel Green, Wolfe County, thirty-five miles southeast.
[Illustration: GENERAL BENNETT H. YOUNG
_What Fifty Years have done for the Commander-in-Chief_]
Established for a few days at Hazel Green, an epidemic, a cross
between erysipelas and measles, appeared, and half of Cluke’s small
command were disabled with this dangerous and treacherous malady.
Had the Federals pursued him at this time they would have captured a
large portion of his command in bed or camp, and certainly they would
have made prisoners of the sick, and if hard pressed would surely
have either forced him to return to the mountains or be himself
made a captive. Though so many of his men were sick, Cluke sent
Colonel Stoner back to Montgomery County, in the vicinity of Mount
Sterling. This was done just to let the Federals know that he and
his men were around and if necessary would show fight. No better man
than Stoner could have been found for such a mission. The Federals,
getting increased courage from the Confederate retreat, began to
demonstrate themselves and advanced upon Hazel Green. Cluke, not
to be outdone, moved further east, thirty miles to Salyersville in
Magoffin County, still deeper into the mountains. The season was
unpropitious. The fountains of heaven seemed to open. Rains came down
in torrents. There were days when horses and men, with cold, chilling
rains, were almost incapacitated from service. On the 19th of
March, Cluke, through his scouts, discovered that he was apparently
entirely surrounded. Fifteen hundred Federals had marched by his
front and gained a position in his rear. Eastward, from Louisa, one
thousand men were rushing upon him, and westwardly, from Proctor,
on the Kentucky River, in Lee County, eight hundred more Federals
were moving to crush this bold and defiant Confederate raider. The
forces had not fully recovered from the attack of the disease at
Hazel Green, and at this time Cluke had not more than five hundred
effectives.
It was a bold thought, but with true military instinct, he concluded
that the only thing to do was to attack his enemy where he was least
expecting it. He was only sixty miles from Mount Sterling. The roads
were almost impassable, and these would render the march extremely
difficult, trying and laborious. He assumed wisely that the enemy
would not suspect that he would reappear at Mount Sterling. Rapidly
as possible, marching through slush and rain and across swollen
streams, he passed through and around his foes. The combination of
rain, cold and the spattering of men and horses by the slush created
by the tramp of the column, rendered the conditions surrounding this
march almost unbearable. Either of the three elements would have
been distressing, but combined they became well-nigh intolerable.
The author had many experiences of war’s hardships but, in common
with his comrades, he considered this ride from Salyersville to Slate
Creek the most arduous and disagreeable of all things that touched
the life of Morgan’s men. The ride around Lebanon in January, 1863,
on the Christmas raid, brought almost incomparable suffering. Those
who endured the cold of that dreadful night believed that they had
reached the limit of human endurance. There the awful freezing was
the chiefest element of suffering; but the men who rode with Cluke
from Salyersville to Slate Creek declared that the hardship was even
more terrible for man and mount than the ride around Lebanon.
Before leaving the sick men, Cluke’s men scattered out into the
mountains. A majority of the people of Wolfe County sympathized with
the South, and it was not difficult to find friendly homes for the
convalescent fugitives. The Licking River and all its tributaries
were full and in many places over the banks, but the horses could
swim and the men could go over in canoes and flatboats, and in a
real emergency they could and did swim with their mounts. Colonel
Cluke made a fierce and hard drive at Mount Sterling. On the morning
of the 21st of March he appeared before the town and demanded its
surrender. This was firmly declined. Heading one of the columns
himself, he charged into the very heart of the city. The Federal
garrison was driven back into the Court House. The Federals away
from the Court House had posted themselves in residences along the
streets, but the torch, the axe and the sledge hammer soon made a
passway up to a hotel which was occupied by a number of Federals with
the lower story used as a hospital. Here a flag of truce was run
up. Cunningham and Lieutenant McCormack and six men advanced under
the flag. Upon reaching the building, they were jeeringly informed
that it was the sick who had surrendered and not the well soldiers,
and these threatened to fire upon Cunningham and his comrades from
the upper rooms, if they undertook to escape from the building. The
outlook was extremely gloomy. Lieutenant Saunders suggested that each
Confederate take a sick Federal soldier and hold him up in front
while they escaped from the position into which their courage—and
some might say rashness—had brought them. Putting this plan into
immediate execution the retreat was begun. It was impossible for the
Federals to fire without killing their sick comrades, but Cunningham
and his friends were inconsiderate enough to set fire to the hospital
before they so unceremoniously left, and in a little while, through
charging and fighting, the men who had refused to surrender and
had threatened to fire on Cunningham, found themselves in a most
unfortunate predicament. The lower story was beginning to blaze. The
sick were carried out, but the well men who had declined to respect
Cunningham’s flag of truce, must either burn up, jump out of the
windows, or be shot down. No men ever more gladly surrendered, and
the captive Federals and the Confederates all united in a common
effort to save them from their impending doom. The Federal prisoners
and the Confederates together worked to quench the flames which had
been started under the hospital.
Time was of the very essence of victory. None could tell at what
moment the Federals, left behind at Salyersville, might put in an
appearance. Garrisons at Lexington, Paris and Winchester would soon
hear the news of Cluke’s coming and might ride to the rescue of their
friends. Every man caught the spirit of haste. True it was Sunday
morning, but war does not respect any day of rest. To have lost,
after the brilliant strategy of the dreadful march from Salyersville
would leave regrets that no future success could palliate. Every
Confederate was terribly in earnest, and no laggards on that
otherwise peaceful day of rest were found in Cluke’s following.
Captain Virgil Pendleton of Company D, 8th Kentucky, was mortally
wounded and died shortly afterwards. No braver soldier or more
loyal patriot ever gave his life for the South. Captain Terrill and
Lieutenant Maupin of Chenault’s regiment were seriously wounded. Both
brave officers, they fell at the front.
The work was short, sharp and decisive. In six hours the agony was
past. Two hundred and twenty wagons, five hundred mules and one
thousand stand of arms were the reward the captors had for their
heroic services. Three killed and ten or fifteen wounded was the
penalty paid by Cluke for his victory. The enemy lost a few more, and
three hundred and one were paroled.
The forces which had been sent to catch Cluke were not long in
finding that their enemy had evaded them and, rapidly leaving the
mountains, had gone down into the Bluegrass and won a victory. They
promptly followed on, searching for their agile foe.
Cluke’s successful work incited spirited criticism of the conduct of
the Federal commanders. Colonel Runkle and General Gilmore appear not
to have agreed about the work done in this campaign. Colonel Runkle,
with great complacency, reported: “As for my men, they have ridden
day after day and night after night, without sleep or rest, and have
pursued eagerly and willingly when so exhausted that they fell from
their horses.” On this report General Gilmore endorsed: “How his men
could have been without sleep and his horses without rest during the
two days he halted at Paris, I cannot understand.” Captain Radcliffe,
Company E, 10th Kentucky Cavalry, who capitulated at Mount Sterling,
was, by the department commander, dishonorably dismissed from the
military service, subject to the approval of the President, for his
disgraceful surrender of the place.
Later he was honorably acquitted by a Court of Enquiry and cleared of
all imputation upon his character as a soldier and restored to his
command. Somebody had blundered and a scapegoat must be found.
So far as written reports are concerned, Colonel Cluke made only one
return, which is as follows: “Rockville, Rowan County, Kentucky,
March 24th, 1863. I reached the above place last evening, just from
Mount Sterling. On the morning of the 21st I moved with my command
direct to Mount Sterling, where I learned there were between three
hundred and four hundred of the enemy guarding a large supply of
commissary and quartermaster’s stores, together with the good
citizens of the place. After crossing Licking River I found the road
in such condition that it was almost impossible to move my artillery.
I placed three companies to assist and guard it, with directions
to move on without delay to Mount Sterling. I then moved with my
command to Mount Sterling, which place I reached about daylight the
next morning, where I found the enemy quartered in the Court House
and adjoining buildings. I immediately demanded a surrender of the
place, which request they refused to comply with. I then gave them
twenty minutes to get the women and children from town. That they
refused to do also, and fired upon the flag of truce from the Court
House and several other buildings immediately around the Court House.
My artillery, not coming up in time, I was compelled to fire the
town to dislodge the enemy. After several houses had been burned,
they surrendered the place; but before surrendering, they kept up a
continual firing from the buildings upon my men, who were protected
by the fences, stables and outbuildings around the town. I paroled
two hundred and eighty-seven privates (14th Kentucky cavalry) and
fourteen officers. I paroled them to report to you within thirty
days, which I herewith send you. The property destroyed, belonging
to the enemy, will reach I think five hundred thousand dollars. I
occupied the town about six hours when my scouts reported a large
force advancing from Winchester. I immediately moved in the direction
of Owingsville. I had not proceeded more than five miles when they
made their appearance some two miles in my rear, numbering about
twenty-five hundred men, with several pieces of artillery. They would
not advance upon me and I quietly advanced on to Owingsville, without
pursuit, and from thence on to the above place. When I left West
Liberty for Mount Sterling, the enemy, numbering thirteen hundred men
with four pieces of artillery, were at Hazel Green, in pursuit of
my force. They reported and despatched a courier to Mount Sterling
stating that they had me completely surrounded, but I surprised
them by making my appearance where not expected. General Marshall
is within forty miles of this place, moving on with sixteen hundred
cavalry. He lost his artillery the other night. The guard placed
over it went to sleep and some Home Guards slipped in on him and
carried off the gun, leaving the carriage and caisson.... I send you
three prisoners of which you will take charge until you hear from me
again.... My command is elegantly mounted and clothed, in fact in
better condition than they have ever been. If your command was here,
you could clean the State of every Yankee.”
Marching over from Southwestern Virginia, General Humphrey Marshall
had driven the forces which had gone to capture Cluke at Salyersville
back into Central Kentucky. This left Cluke an open way for the
return to Monticello, Wayne County, Kentucky.
After maneuvering with his enemies for some days, he received orders
from General Morgan to march southward by way of Irvine, McKee,
Manchester and Somerset, to Stigall’s Ferry, where he had crossed
the river some weeks before. He had not been away more than seven
weeks; he had traveled, all told, eight hundred miles, almost
altogether within the line of the enemy. He was always operating with
an inferior force, but he was ever ready to fight. The history of
war furnished nothing superior to the skill and strategy of Colonel
Cluke in this expedition. He was campaigning over two hundred miles
from his supports; he had larger, active forces and many strong
garrisons about him, and these were threatening and covering at all
times the only way by which he could return to his starting place.
His daring and skill had braved his enemies at every turn. He played
with them as a cat with a mouse. Leading them far into the mountains,
he slipped away before they realized that he was gone, and in the
darkness of the night, amid storms, and over roads believed to be
impassable, he made a tremendous march and pounced down upon an
intrenched garrison more than half as great as the force he carried
into the fight, and then escaped in the immediate presence of a
Federal force five times as large as that which he was commanding. He
destroyed more than a million dollars’ worth of property. For weeks
he defied and evaded his pursuers and then crossed the Cumberland
River at the same point he had passed it, with his command well
equipped, and reported to his superior commander the brilliant
experiences without a serious mishap or defeat during his long stay
amidst his enemies.
POSTSCRIPT
Roy Stuart Cluke was born in Clark County, Kentucky, in 1824. His
mother died when he was only three weeks of age and he was reared
by the family of his grandfather, James Stuart. This grandfather
had served in the Revolutionary War under Washington. Allotted a
large tract of land for his revolutionary services, he settled in
Clark County and had for his homestead a thousand acre farm near
the junction of Clark, Bourbon and Montgomery Counties, by the side
of a great spring, known as “Stuart Spring.” In the early days of
Kentucky, water was even more valuable than rich land.
James Stuart had four sons, and all were soldiers from Kentucky in
the War of 1812.
After such education as the local schools of his period could give,
he was sent to a military school at Bardstown, Kentucky. Shortly
after attaining his majority he volunteered for service in the
Mexican war, and went with a company of Kentucky cavalry commanded
by John Stuart Williams, his cousin, afterwards brigadier general in
the Confederate army and United States Senator from Kentucky. The
company made a most enviable record in Mexico. Briefly before the
commencement of the Civil War, he organized and trained a company
of cavalry which was attached to the State Guard. This company was
noted for its thorough drill, its magnificent mounts, its splendid
equipment and its dashing riders. When General Bragg invaded the
State in 1862 he organized a regiment of cavalry composed largely
of men from the Bluegrass counties. More than eight hundred men
enlisted in this regiment, which was called the 8th Kentucky. When
only a portion of his regiment had been enlisted, he was sent to
harass General George W. Morgan, the Federal officer who was making
his masterly retreat from Cumberland Gap, through the mountains of
Kentucky. The 8th Kentucky subsequently became a part of General John
H. Morgan’s command. His regiment was actively engaged in service
from August, 1862, until his capture, July 26th, 1863. He was at
Hartsville on December 6th, 1862, on the Christmas raid, and led an
independent expedition into Kentucky in February and March, 1863.
He was captured on the 26th of July, 1863, with General Morgan,
at Salineville, Columbiana County, Ohio, and was conveyed to the
Ohio penitentiary with the other officers of the command, and kept
there for some months and subsequently removed to Johnson’s Island,
Sandusky, Ohio. He loved the excitement and din of war. He chafed
under his confinement in the penitentiary and at Johnson’s Island.
It was reported that he had been poisoned in prison. This, however,
was denied and later was discredited. He died under distressing
circumstances in December, 1863. There was an epidemic of diphtheria
among the Confederate officers at Johnson’s Island about the time of
Colonel Cluke’s death. A man of marvelously prepossessing physique,
he enjoyed the friendship of the officers of the prison. He had been
allowed to visit the office and read the newspapers. While thus
employed one morning, with his strong, silvery voice, with military
calmness, he said, “Gentlemen, I will be dead in a few minutes. I
have only one request to make of you as soldiers and gentlemen. Leave
my arms folded across my bosom like a warrior and tell them to place
my Mexican War sabre by my side. Telegraph my cousin and foster
brother, Samuel G. Stuart, of Winchester, Kentucky; request him to
come for my body and bury me next to my mother in the old Stuart
graveyard at home.” He folded his arms, the paper fell from his now
nerveless grasp, his head drooped on his breast. Even his enemies
were impressed at his calmness and courage in the presence of the
great enemy. They rushed to his side. The prison physician felt his
pulse and lifting his head from his chest, where he was listening for
the heart beats, he turned his face to those aside and said, “He is
dead.” The drama was ended and in pathetic gloom the curtain fell on
the brilliant and gallant soldier.
Six feet, four inches tall, splendidly proportioned, with a
magnificent suit of brown hair and whiskers, graceful as any man who
ever rode to war, as brave as the bravest, calm, cool, fierce in
danger, his presence was always an inspiration to his followers. He
was idolized by his men. He had won the confidence and admiration of
General Morgan and all who were associated with him in the division.
Had he escaped on the Ohio raid, he would have been made a brigadier
general. There was universal sorrow that so splendid a life should go
out with such darkened surroundings. His remains were brought to his
native State and deposited first where he asked, in the old Stuart
graveyard, and then later removed to the Lexington cemetery. In this
wondrously beautiful “City of the Dead” he rests close to his great
leader, Morgan, within a stone’s throw of the grave of General John
C. Breckinridge, just across the way a little bit from General Roger
W. Hanson and Colonel W. C. P. Breckinridge, and under the shadow of
Kentucky’s memorial to Henry Clay.
Those who loved and followed him have built a simple granite monument
on which is inscribed:
“Roy Stuart Cluke. 1824-1863.
Colonel of the 8th Kentucky Cavalry, C.S.A.
Erected by his Comrades.”