THE JOURNAL
To
My beloved sister, Mrs. India W. P. Logan,
This little History
Is Dedicated and Inscribed by Her
Very grateful and affectionate brother,
FRANK.
PREFACE
This Journal of incidents and adventures, written at your request, was
never intended to pass beyond the circle of tried and particular
friends. The particular situation in which it was written, the character
of the writer, of his associates, and the Cause they represented—all
these peculiarities must be known, felt, and understood before you can
enter into the spirit of the enclosed composition.
With this consideration, these simple sketches are kindly submitted, and
placed under your protection, sincerely hoping they will be appreciated
and estimated according to their merits. And furthermore, that the honor
of the Cause, as well as of its defenders, be kept sacred, and to the
end of time unsullied.
THE AUTHOR.
GLASGOW JUNCTION, KENTUCKY.
DEAR SISTER:
I received, some time since, a request that I would write you an outline
of my experience in “the tented field” up to the date of my capture. It
will necessarily be very imperfect, and a very brief one, and perhaps it
will be as uninteresting as it is brief. Yet I can assure you that
nothing less than a long and continued interview could give you any just
conception or description of my experience and many exploits as a member
of Morgan’s Cavalry.
However, I trust this sketch may both please and interest you. To me, in
the mean time, it will only be a reminder of the long years of hardship,
exposure, and suffering in a Lost Cause which was so gallantly and
devotedly battled for that one would almost accuse the God of Battles of
injustice and impartiality; of using the Fates against a people in such
a sacred cause. That I have been a soldier in the service of the
Confederate States is not, and never will be, regretted. I am proud that
I was one who did not hesitate to join the standard of those in defense
of their country’s rights. Had I not done so I would now be chiding
myself with no little severity. Shame alone would cause me to blush
myself out of existence.
But pardon my digression. I will commence my sketch.
You are already aware, perhaps, that I enlisted in the cavalry service
of the Confederate States of America at Glasgow, Kentucky, in October,
1861, and in a company that was then being formed by Second Lieutenant
James W. Bowles, who had been duly authorized by the Confederate
Government to recruit a company of cavalry.
At Glasgow forty men were enlisted, and after some experience in
drilling and a few exciting engagements, such as scouting and
skirmishing, in which we were sometimes supported by Capt. John H.
Morgan and his company,—a favor we often returned,—we were ordered by
General Buckner to Bowling Green, Kentucky. On reporting to the General
we were instructed by him to report to Captain Morgan, commanding Camp
Burnham, one mile south of Bowling Green, where we went into camp.
Here we found the Lexington Rifles, Captain Morgan’s old company;
Captain Allen’s and Capt. John S. Churchill’s company, partly completed,
with which our company was, by order of the commandant, soon afterward
consolidated. The two captains, by the toss of a copper, decided who
should become the commander, and Lieutenant Bowles, our then acting
captain, being the successful one, Captain Churchill justly fell heir to
the second in command, the first lieutenancy. Our first lieutenant
became the second lieutenant of the new company, and the other first
lieutenant became our third, the very responsible position of orderly
sergeant falling to your most humble servant, and so on down the list.
At that time Captain Morgan had in camp three full companies, amounting
to about two hundred and seventy-five men, all splendidly mounted on
Kentucky’s best: Morgan’s own Company A, Capt. Thomas Allen’s Company B,
and Capt. Bowle’s Company C, forming “Morgan’s Squadron,” as it was
afterward known, and being under the command of Capt. John H. Morgan,
with First Lieutenant Basil W. Duke, of Company A, as acting adjutant,
subject to the command of General Buckner alone.
After remaining in camp near Bowling Green for some time, drilling and
making other preparations necessary to meet the foe successfully, we
moved to an encampment called “Camp Allen,” five miles south of Bowling
Green, between the L. and N. and the Memphis Branch railroads, where we
drilled constantly until the latter part of November, when we were
ordered to the front to form a portion of the advance-guard, then near
Green River, under the command of General Hindman. Here we remained on
active duty until the withdrawal of our forces from Bowling Green, which
withdrawal was caused by the enemy’s flank movement and the fall of Fort
Donelson, about the first of February, 1862. On the retreat the squadron
was the rear-guard of our army, that being the second time we had had
charge of the post of honor.
Leaving Camp Green on the 12th,—my last sight of home until the 27th of
June, 1865,—we passed through Bowling Green and encamped four miles
south of town. On the 13th our column reached Franklin, Kentucky, and
the evening of the 14th we were encamped one mile south of
Mitchellville, Tennessee. Here General Breckinridge, who was now in
command, General Buckner having gone to Fort Donelson, learned that the
enemy’s advance had reached Bowling Green. I shall not soon forget the
night we camped near Mitchellville, for we shared the fate of the
reindeer in having our beds on the snow.
On the 15th we reached Goodletsville, and on the 16th we marched into
Nashville. We remained on special duty in that city several days, and
until the main army had reached Huntsville, Alabama. On the arrival of
the enemy’s forces our little band steadily and quite sullenly gave way
before them until we reached Lavergne, about midway between Nashville
and Murfreesboro, meanwhile inflicting sudden and unexpected blows,
causing the enemy so much loss as to make him advance slowly and with
the utmost caution.
It was on this retreat that our commander and the squadron, by their
many daring deeds, brought themselves first into notice and gained such
notoriety as to make them afterward of no little terror to the enemy.
And from this time forward, until July 19, 1863, the date of our capture
in Ohio, they earned and gained more laurels, captured more stores and
provisions, and had less reverses than any other command in either
service. Never was a commander so much admired, so devotedly loved, or
one in whom his soldiers placed so much confidence as a leader, as was
our dashing and gallant chief. Any of us—all of us—would gladly have
died in his defense, and each one would have envied the man who lost his
life defending him. So much was he trusted that his men never dreamed of
failing him in anything that he attempted. In all engagements he was our
guiding star and hero.
Doubtless you learned at the time they were enacted of the many daring
and spirited engagements and scouts while we were encamped at Lavergne
and Murfreesboro, the enemy near us, at the Asylum and Nashville. I
presume you heard particularly of the General’s personal adventures,
sometimes alone, sometimes with a chosen few. It is exciting and
interesting to read such incidents, but to be an actor in them is the
only way to realize “the heart’s exultant swell.” That can only be felt;
it cannot be described even by those who have been through it.
During our stay in Murfreesboro a portion of the squadron went with the
General, then Captain, to Gallatin, very much to the surprise of the
enemy who were garrisoning the town. On this occasion Columbus A.
Peddicord, having just come from Virginia, acted as guide. His regiment
had been disbanded with orders to reorganize on the first of April,
1862.
It was here that I contracted the illness which afterward resulted in
typhoid pneumonia, it being brought on by constant exposure to the long
cold rains during the first two weeks of March while we were scouting in
the vicinity of the capital. We lived in the saddle the most of the
time, and our clothing was continually wet.
Captain Morgan and sixty horse were stationed in Murfreesboro, and they
held the town; the rest of the squadron, meantime, encamped on the pike
running from Shelbyville, a pike intersecting the Franklin and Nashville
pike twelve miles from Nashville. This disposition of our small force
nonplussed the enemy entirely and successfully. They could not solve the
mystery, or imagine what our number was, or where or who we were.
Our leader, by his rapid blows and daredevil encounters, caused them to
believe his entire force was with him at Murfreesboro, while Captain
Allen, Captain Bowles, and Adjutant Duke drew their attention in the
opposite direction, attacking them at all hours of the day and night. We
would capture an outpost, very often galloping in the midst of their
camp, thus causing the greatest surprise and consternation imaginable.
After presenting the compliments of “Morgan’s Men,” in the shape of a
few broadsides from our rifles, a sort of salute of respect and esteem,
we would doff our caps à la Morgan, and, without difficulty, make our
exit at a brisk canter. Their curiosity was not sufficient to make them
pursue us for an introduction, and they did not insist upon an
explanation for such intrusion.
When orders were received to fall back, the squadron, after a short
separation, was again united at Shelbyville. At Shelbyville I was
compelled, for the first time, to leave the ranks on account of illness.
My comrades urging me to do so, I went to a private house, to remain
there until the squadron should move to Huntsville, as previously
instructed. One of the boys escorted me to the residence of a Mr.
Desmukes, south of town a few miles, where I was treated “southernly,”
and with great kindness by all the family, and especially by the two
young lady daughters.
On the departure of the troops, some time afterward, a detachment was
sent for me. I had become so weak that when I rose to walk I staggered,
and would have fallen had not the arms of the young ladies intercepted
and rescued me. They then assisted the invalid to the gate, and also
assisted me to mount my “war steed,” Selim, who was to carry me a short
distance, to the pike, where an ambulance was in waiting to take me to
Fayettesville. Escorted by a small guard of troopers from our own
company, and accompanied by C. A. P., who arrived just in time to
superintend my transfer, we proceeded to Fayettesville.
From the time I was laid in the ambulance until my arrival in the
Huntsville hotel I was entirely unconscious, and ignorant of all that
passed, like one dreaming his last long dream. I have been told by C. A.
P. that I remained in Fayettesville several days, and was cared for
tenderly by the ladies, and especially by the landlady of the principal
hotel, where I stopped. I can’t remember. Nor have I the remotest idea
what occurred during my stay; neither have I the least knowledge of
being carried to the depot in a carriage, thence to Huntsville by rail,
where, on my arrival, I was conveyed to the hotel. I was carried in by
some of the boys, and on ascending the stairway they allowed one of my
feet to fall against the steps, which awoke me from my insensibility.
But I soon again relapsed into unconsciousness, and this time it lasted
for nearly two months.
During the two weeks that the squadron stayed I was nightly visited by
some of the boys, but I was not made aware of it until a long time
afterward. However strange it may appear, my best and dearest friends
were not recognized. I have only a very slight recollection of the
advent of the Yankees under Mitchell, on the 11th day of April, 1862.
The grand entree was made about 11 or 12 o’clock at night, and caused no
little excitement among the inhabitants, as well as among our men.
Just before Captain Morgan left Huntsville for Shiloh, he called to see
me. After standing some time by my bedside, and looking intently at me,
he remarked, “Sergeant, you will soon be well enough to be with us
again.” Then he shook my hand very affectionately, and, bidding me
farewell, went into the entry, where he said to the landlady, Mrs.
Georgia Nowell, that I would not live through the coming night, in which
opinion Mrs. Nowell acquiesced, as she told me afterward. And indeed,
she said for as much as two weeks no one expected that I would recover,
not even the kind doctor attending me.
But, after all, my time had not arrived. By the 22nd of May I was able
to sit up in bed, propped up by five or six pillows. It was on that day,
and while in that position, that Rube, a true and faithful black boy
whom C. A. P. had left to take care of me, rushed into my room,
adjoining Mrs. Nowell’s, saying that the Yankees were searching the
hotel.
Though I was still very feeble, I knew well what to do and say. I
requested Rube to leave the door, as it then was, a little open, and to
go about just as if he were one of the hotel waiters. Having escaped
detection so often before, and being in one of the rooms known as “the
family suite,” I thought it probable that I might escape again. But I am
now pretty sure that some one had reported me to the military, because
two Yankee officers came direct to my room, walked in without knocking,
and seated themselves near my bedside. Very soon they introduced, as
cause for their presence and intrusion, several inquiries, such as, “How
long have you been ill, sir?” or “What command do you belong to?” and
“When do you think you will be able to report to the provost marshal?”
I answered their questions by saying that I did not know when I would be
able to report, and they said, “But when do you think?” I said, “You see
my condition. When do _you_ think?” But neither of them could tell me.
These remarks and similar ones that passed made me quite angry, and I
said just what I thought and pleased. Besides, I did not like the style
of their entrance. Each had a pair of navy pistols, and each had his
sabre drawn, as if he expected to see the Devil, instead of a sick
Rebel. Then, leaving me for a moment, they returned with a parole, which
instructed me to report, when I was well enough, to the provost marshal,
and this I signed with a feeble hand. One of these officers was a
captain of the Third O. V. I. from Belmont County, the other was Sam
Piper, of Barnesville, his second lieutenant.
As soon as the Yankees were gone, Mrs. Nowell made her appearance,
weeping and lamenting. Both she and Rube were very much displeased with
the new programme. When the first of June came I was sufficiently strong
to venture to the provost marshal’s office to show myself to Lieutenant
Colonel Burke of the Tenth Ohio Volunteer Infantry, the provost marshal.
My skeleton-like appearance gained his sympathy, and all he requested
was for me to report myself daily at 9 o’clock A. M. This I did until
the 5th of August.
Then, on the 5th of August, I was started out, under a heavy guard, and
with three other officers of our army, for some Northern bastile.
All this time Mrs. Nowell was like a kind mother to me, and Rube was
attentive and obedient at all times. I placed him under Mrs. Nowell’s
care when I left. The inhabitants—for there was only one Union man,
Judge Lane, in the city—treated me with the greatest kindness and
attention, offering me everything that one could wish for. I was the
only Confederate prisoner on parole then, all the others having been
sent North, and during my evening walks crowds of beautiful girls and
young ladies would accompany me, much to the displeasure of the Yankees.
And I would return from my walks always ladened with the richest, rarest
flowers that ever grew in any clime.
This was, indeed, a reward that made a soldier’s heart swell with pride.
How it gladdens the heart to receive such marked attentions from the
hands of the beautiful and fair! Long and happily may the fair ones of
Huntsville live!
On my route to Louisville, Kentucky, I passed over the Tennessee and
Alabama Railroad to Nashville, thence over the Louisville and Nashville,
and in sight of home. Yet not a muscle betrayed itself, nor was there a
sigh to show that the “Rebel” had any desire to see loved ones. However,
he felt it deeply; but a proud spirit, still unconquered, scorned the
idea that his guard be permitted the gratification of knowing that he
suffered.
On arriving in Louisville I was exhibited to a staring populace as one
of “Morgan’s men,” and this knowledge caused them to show me a rope with
a hangman’s knot in it. This, they said, was for my special benefit. If
I had enlisted in this war to be frightened by scare-crows I might have
been frightened, but as I did not, the amusement was entirely at their
expense. But do not think that all the people in the city were of this
mind. Assuredly not. I saw many bright eyes beaming, many fair faces
smiling on the old gray, and I saw many snowy handkerchiefs slyly
flirted at the risk of prison walls, and—in spite of them!
I was now entered, not “professionally,” however, in that horrid prison,
the Old Medical College, and was confined there about one week. I was
then transferred, with, perhaps, one hundred other prisoners of war (one
of them Dr. Hobson, afterward our brigade chaplain), to Camp Chase,
Ohio, by way of Indianapolis, when one-half of our party was sent to
Camp Norton, Dr. Hobson included. We remained in Camp Chase nearly two
weeks, where I wrote you, if you remember; then, on the 26th of August
we started for exchange, by way of Cincinnati to Cairo. At Cairo the
prisoners embarked on a fleet of eight or ten transports that was to
carry them down the Mississippi River. We were escorted by two ironsides
and a heavy guard, all of which was quite unnecessary, for we were most
anxious to get to Dixie, and for her “to live and die.”
Before reaching that place of “world-wide fame,” Vicksburg, many of the
boys died, and a large number, myself among them, became sick, an
illness caused by the crowded boat, the inferior rations, and drinking
the river water. When we reached Vicksburg we received a hearty
reception from our troops and from the inhabitants. It was even then a
place of interest, for before the war it possessed much that was
attractive; but since it has become notorious for its heroic defense,
before which Grant’s heroic columns melted like snow, it is singularly
interesting. Well, transportation to Jackson, Mississippi, was
immediately furnished us, and when we arrived there we were ordered by
General Lloyd Tilghman, commander of the post, into a camp of
instruction until further orders.
I met here my old friend of civil engineer notoriety, John W. Hayden,
belonging now to the Confederate Engineering Corps, with the rank of
colonel. He and the General urged and insisted that I should receive, or
rather accept an appointment in the same corps. Colonel Hayden said that
he was very much surprised to find me in the cavalry service, and more
surprised that I had been following the daring and dashing horseman,
John Morgan, when men of my profession were needed to engage in the very
fascinating work of the Engineer Corps of the Confederates States. They
both pressed me to accept a position; but I loved my old Commander too
well, and the service in which he had enlisted too much, to think of
leaving him. So I could but decline respectfully; which I did. And yet I
believe I have since almost regretted that I then rejected a post of
such advantage, for of advantage it certainly would have been in the
days to come.
After a short stay in Jackson, and on the arrival of General
Breckinridge’s forces from Baton Rouge, in which we were glad to find
the old Kentucky Infantry Brigade, we started under General Breckinridge
for Knoxville, Tennessee, by way of Mobile, Atlanta and Chattanooga. We
reached Knoxville about the first of October. We were then mounted, and,
under the immediate command of Lieut. Col. Bob Wood, of Mississippi, we
started for Kentucky to join General Bragg.
After two days’ march toward Cumberland Gap we met Bragg’s advance,
under General Kirby Smith, which caused a retrograde movement of the
forces under General Breckinridge. On our return to Knoxville, where I
met C. A. P., Col. St. Leger Grenville, Morgan’s Adjutant-General, and
Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman of the Third Kentucky Cavalry, now took
command of our detachment, by order of General Morgan, and we began our
march across the Cumberland Mountains to join our command, now a
brigade, at Black’s Shop. This position was eight miles in advance of
Murfreesboro, on the pike leading from that place to Lebanon, and on the
extreme right of our main army, under General Bragg, who had taken
position there, while the enemy, then under Rosecrans, were stationed at
Nashville.
We reached the command and reported to the General about the last of
October, after a very interesting march over a country possessing
romantic and picturesque scenery. All hearts were gladdened by the warm
and hearty reception we received from the boys. The General, accompanied
by his orderlies, came to our camp to see us just as soon as he heard of
our arrival. Never did a mother receive her foundlings more fondly than
did our glorious commander. Long shall we remember that meeting!
Knowing the fondness of the old squadron boys for each other, and for
himself, General Morgan now proposed that they should be consolidated
and organized into one select company, to act as scouts, subject to his
personal command and direction. A few days after, accordingly, an order
appeared to that effect.
All were highly pleased with this arrangement, and, as proof of it,
scarce one day elapsed before all had rallied at the scouts’ encampment.
The feasting was enjoyed for several days, and I imagine that the
neighboring barn-yards suffered a good deal. Of the A, B, and C boys,
some had been promoted, and others were promoted immediately upon our
arrival. Yet the majority of those whom the General wanted to advance
respectfully declined to accept appointments in “strange” companies, so
much were they attached to each other. Our term of enlistment had
expired, but no one mentioned it to the General, nor thought of quitting
so long as the object for which they enlisted had not been attained.
Neither did they re-enlist, but served faithfully to the bitter end.
With the exception of those promoted, there were only eighty of the
original members to be found after twelve months’ service, and there had
been nearly three hundred at first. War, death, and sickness had thinned
their numbers, so that now there were, upon terra firma, to answer to
roll call, scarcely one-third their original number. The others—the most
of them—had answered their last roll call, “the soldier’s last tattoo.”
It was oftentimes painful and sad to lose such brave and dear
companions, yet when I think of our misfortunes, as I often do, I almost
wish that I, too, were one of “the departed heroes.”
At the time of the formation of our company, called “Morgan’s Scouts,”
we were poorly mounted, our war steeds being old veterans that had seen
hard service, and, because of their indisposition, had been turned over
to the quartermaster’s department at Knoxville, from whom we drew them.
The members of the Scouts, as they knew General Morgan personally and
were quite frank with him, complained at every interview of their sorry
horses. The General’s reply always was, “You’ll have better ones in a
short time.” How he got those “better ones” will be related hereafter.
Meanwhile, the scouts began their exploits—exploits so much talked of by
the command, and so eagerly anticipated. Oftentimes, accompanied by the
General, on such occasions impersonating the character of a scout, and
to all appearances one of the company, we would dash out on exciting and
successful adventures, expeditions carried on in the vicinity of
Gallatin and Nashville, and also in the neighborhood of Lebanon and
Hartsville, where a brigade of Yankee infantry and a regiment of cavalry
were discovered quietly encamped on the north bank of the Cumberland,
and near the latter place. The cavalry was commanded by Colonel Moore,
and was supported by another brigade of the enemy, six miles distant in
the direction of Gallatin.
As soon as this discovery was made, the General put his wits to work to
“take them in out of the weather.” It was about the first of December,
1862, and on the morning of the 6th of December orders were received to
report to General Morgan’s headquarters immediately, an order we as soon
carried into effect.
[Illustration:
KELION FRANKLIN PEDDICORD
1888
FACING 50
]
Having received from the General our special instructions, we moved off
in the direction of Hartsville, to be followed, almost immediately, by
our brigade of cavalry, and also by the Old Kentucky Infantry Brigade,
commanded by General Roger B. Hanson, whose duty it was to hold
possession of Lebanon during our attack. The position of the places
closely resembled a Y: Nashville at the top and left, Hartsville at the
right top, Lebanon at the junction, and Murfreesboro at the bottom. So
you will easily see that Nashville, not forgetting Gallatin, is as near
to Lebanon as it is to Hartsville, and it would be quite easy for the
enemy to intercept our line of retreat. This General Hanson was to guard
against.
When the scouts passed through Lebanon, late in the evening, they were
met by many ladies, who, woman-like, had anticipated our movements, and
urged and implored us to capture the Yankees at Hartsville. And they
added, “Be sure to bring them through town so we can see them!” When you
learn that most of the boys had sweethearts there, for it is a glorious
old place in the estimation of most of our command, you will not wonder
that they promised a prisoner on their return.
As we left the town behind us the darkness fell, and our brigade, like a
messenger of death, crept silently, cautiously along, in spite of the
intense cold. Near midnight we approached the Cumberland. Our forces had
been divided into several detachments, preparatory to fording the river,
the scouts leading the advance of the center detachment, at whose head
rode General Morgan, and closely in the rear came the big guns,
excepting the two pieces called the “Bull Pups,” that had so long
accompanied the command on its raids and marches.
These “Bull Pups” had been left in charge of an officer commanding a
battalion of cavalry, with instructions to make a feint on the enemy
from the south bank of the river. He was to take the direct road to
Hartsville, and the one leading to the good ford, which happened to be
just opposite to the Yankees and within rifle range. The officer in
charge of the battalion was to get silently into position, without the
knowledge of the enemy, and when the first gray streaks of morning made
their appearance he was to attract the enemy’s attention by opening a
spirited cannonading from the now celebrated “Bull Pups.” “The first
gray streaks” was the signal, too, for the brigade to move into position
on the north bank of the river.
When the advance reached the river we found a couple of ferry-boats
which our friends had secreted for us. All the other detachments crossed
by fording, and they had, I afterward learned, a wretched cold bath.
Along with seven scouts I was the first to land. Just before shoving off
from the shore I received my instructions from the General in person. He
desired me to be both cautious and vigilant, so as not to alarm the
enemy, and we were to approach his encampment silently, and to watch his
actions until the General’s arrival with the main force.
Crossing quietly and safely, it was not long until we found the Yankee
outpost, a cavalry picket consisting of an officer and fifteen men,
posted not more than a quarter of a mile from their camp. The picket was
in an old carriage-house. One of the doors was standing open and there
was a fire near the entrance of the house, and between us and the door.
We were already within short range, and we could see the Yankees
distinctly as they stepped out to look up the road. It was so very cold,
so intensely cold, that they did not dream Morgan would come after them
on such a night. Had they not felt so confident surely they would not
have dismounted while on picket duty.
But there we sat, silent as the tomb, watching our prey, without even
the privilege of shaking our feet in the stirrups to keep them from
freezing. I never came so near freezing in my life. The rest of the
scouts and the detachment with the General arrived just before day.
When the General saw the pickets, which we pointed out to him, he said,
turning to the captain of the scouts, “Tom, do you see those pickets?”
The Captain answered promptly, “I do, distinctly.” Then the General
said, “Lead your scouts down there, and take them in, and if it can be
avoided do not fire a gun.”
A moment after the boys were on all sides of the picket, advancing from
all sides, and in less time than I can tell you, the Yankees were
captured, disarmed, placed under arrest, and sent to the rear. It was
done without a word, without a shot to make our presence known to the
enemy. The General said before this was done that it would be all he
would require of us. However, we escorted him to the camp, which was in
sight, and as we galloped into line one of the sentries, on camp duty,
more watchful than the outpost, fired his gun into the air, and almost
immediately a reply from the “Bull Pups” came across the river. This had
a pleasing effect in our favor, for, imagining the attack was from that
direction, the Yankee battery very soon opened upon them in dead
earnest. Meanwhile, each of our regiments had gained its position, and
the line of battle was formed, though the Yankees were running in every
direction, so complete was their surprise.
Believing, from our actions, we were about to charge them mounted, the
Yankees commenced forming three distinct hollow squares; and then again,
seeing our men dismount to fight, they formed into line parallel with
ours. By this time the battery we had with us was placed in position in
our line, and between the Seventh and Eighth Kentucky Cavalry. With the
General at the head of the scouts, and supporting the battery, two of
our pieces now opened fire on the Yankee battery, which was still
duelling with the “Bull Pups.” This discharge caused the Yankees to see
and realize their real position. They were surrounded completely. When
our big guns began firing they commanded a little more respect and
attention than the “Pups.” The Yankees quickly reversed their guns, and
the second shot hit one of our caissons, and there was an explosion. The
General, the artillery and the scouts were enveloped in such a dense
cloud of smoke and shells that every one, like myself, thought that he
was the only living one—the only one who had escaped instant death. But
on the disappearance of the smoke our surprise was great to find that no
one was hurt except the drivers and the horses attached to the caisson.
The escape of General Morgan seemed miraculous indeed.
Colonel Duke had led our line of battle into action, and now the entire
line entered the conflict. Rebel and Yankee were at it, hot and heavy,
still the General would not permit the scouts to advance, but held us
under fire of the artillery, in reserve, as he said. But before long our
time came.
When it came the two lines were frightfully near each other. The Yankee
cavalry regiment was on the rise before us when the General, calling the
attention of the scouts, said, “Boys, yonder are those horses I’ve been
promising you.” And he added, “Be very particular how you take them, for
you observe that each horse has an armed man upon him.” Then, giving
Captain Tom some instructions, he ordered us to advance, which we did at
a brisk canter. Already the Yankee lines, in many places broken, were
reeling and staggering like drunken men. We entered the lists just in
time to fire the ending broadside and receive an unconditional
surrender. We likewise received the horses the General had presented,
besides a great variety of “other things” that abound in Yankee camps.
The engagement had lasted only an hour and ten minutes.
The forces surrendered by Colonel Moore were the One Hundred and Fourth
Illinois Volunteer Infantry, One Hundred and Sixth and One Hundred and
Eighth Ohio Infantry, and the Second Indiana Cavalry, making a total of
two thousand three hundred prisoners. Sixty or seventy of the enemy were
killed, and twice that number wounded. Our loss was nearly fifty killed
and seventy or eighty wounded. Our captured horses were put in charge of
some of the scouts, and the rest of us were ordered to watch the
movements of the Yankee brigade that was in supporting distance of the
one just captured. Though this brigade had heard our cannonading, we had
struck so quickly and rapidly that they could not, at least did not,
come up in time.
After marching over a mile we met the enemy’s advance-guard, and the
main force was marching in line of battle a short distance in the rear
of his advance. We drove the advance back in confusion upon the main
column. Then a portion of our company held the ground, while the others
withdrew to the rear and went into ambush, there to wait the moment to
strike.
On this occasion, when hard pressed by the main line, we suddenly gave
way, as if we were demoralized, and this enticed the advance out to
pursue us. Then the boys in ambush opened fire on them so unexpectedly
that they retired in confusion. While this was being enacted the scouts
who first fell back selected another place of ambuscade. In this way,
after receiving the Yankees warmly once or twice, they learned caution,
and advanced slowly, being obliged to reform their lines often, which
detained them so much the longer.
When we arrived at the ford we found the prisoners, the horses and the
artillery, as well as the captured stores, all safe on the other side of
the river. The brigade with which we had been skirmishing took the same
position as the one captured had taken, and shelled the ford while we
were crossing. But they showed no inclination to come over themselves.
Had they done so we certainly would have had the pleasure of escorting
another Yankee brigade, under guard, to headquarters; for we found when
we gained the south bank that our forces had been arranged to give them
a warm reception.
By this victory the scouts had the good fortune to secure fine horses,
pistols, blankets, oil and rubber coats, and blankets, and many small
necessaries such as Uncle Sam’s shoulder-straps carry. And, added to
these things, there was a variety of sutler’s stores.
We got back to our encampment about midnight, cold, hungry, sleepy, and
very much fatigued. The next morning we were ordered to headquarters to
guard and protect the captured spoils. The prisoners, after being
relieved of the overcoats and surplus baggage, were turned over to
General Bragg to be disposed of. It was currently reported afterward
that Morgan drew them all up in line and gave this command, “One Hundred
and Fourth Illinois, came out of them overcoats!” and then followed a
similar command concerning pocketbooks, and knives, and so on, to each
regiment. It is true the overcoats were retained, but nothing else was.
The overcoats were dyed black and worn by our men afterward.
It was at this time that President Davis and Gen. Joseph E. Johnston
arrived in Murfreesboro, and were present to witness General Morgan’s
marriage ceremony, which took place very soon after. Until his marriage
our leader was but a colonel, commanding a brigade, and he received his
lady—Miss Mattie Ready, of Murfreesboro—and his promotion at the same
time, and received them both from the hands of the “wise and good,
gentlemanly and Christian” President, who gave the bride away to “Gen.
John H. Morgan,” upon whom he bestowed many compliments for efficient
and gallant service, as well as upon the command.
The Yankees, though they had fought desperately for an hour and ten
minutes, were sadly abused by the populace on their arrival in Nashville
after their exchange. Nightgowns, and even night-caps, were offered
them, for the people said their conduct was disgraceful. But let us give
honor to whom honor is due. They fought as well as any troops could
while they were engaged.
Immediately after the Hartsville engagement preparations were commenced
for the “Christmas Raid” through Kentucky. The division marched to
Alexandria, where the forces soon arrived, and organized into two
brigades, the first under the command of Col. Basil W. Duke, of the
Second Regiment, and the second under Colonel William C. Breckinridge,
of the Ninth Regiment.
This last appointment caused the resignation of Col. G. St. Leger
Grenville, General Morgan’s adjutant-general. The adjutant-general
opposed the appointment of Colonel Breckinridge for several just
reasons. It is true, Breckinridge was not the senior colonel, and the
appointment was made over the head of the senior officer. After Colonel
Grenville’s resignation had been accepted, General Bragg made him his
inspector-general of cavalry. He was afterward captured in Chicago while
attempting to effect the release of prisoners from Camp Douglas. For
this “crime” he was sentenced to death by a court martial held in
Cincinnati, but his sentence was afterward commuted by “our kind
President” to hard labor at Dry Tortugas for life. I feel very sorry for
the Colonel. He is as brave and gallant as the best.
The command left Alexandria on the morning of the 22nd of December,
1862, with the scouts in advance, a post of honor we retained during the
entire trip. I met at this town both Columbus and Carolus, to whom the
General had entrusted some special duty. We passed through New
Middleton, approaching the Cumberland opposite Carthage, and crossing
Kaney Fork in sight of Carthage, and the Cumberland at Hardee’s Ford,
about five miles above, a ford named in honor of a general by that name.
General Bragg’s army had used the same ford some time before, when en
route to Kentucky.
We went into camp on the north side of the river, the scouts doing
outpost duty all night, and the next evening we went into camp at
Tomkinsonville, Kentucky. The next evening at 9 o’clock the scouts
entered Glasgow. At the General’s request we halted a few miles from
town to feed, preparatory to a night’s march, when another detachment
took the advance, reaching Glasgow a little after dark.
It so happened that a Michigan cavalry regiment was marching through
town at the time our party entered, and a collision was the results,
then a skirmish, then—a stampede of all parties! Couriers flew to the
General, and from each one he received a different account as to the
numbers of the enemy; from one he learned that there was a brigade; from
another, a division. But by the courier who claimed to be “the most
reliable,” he learned that the town was _full of troops_!
The action of this detachment, on this occasion, did not please the
General, neither did it add any laurels to the troops engaged, nor did
the scouts regret it as they ought to have done, simply because, when
the detachment passed us, they laughed at the boys, and called out that
they “had played out.” But they did not know for what purpose they had
been halted by the General, else they would not have rejoiced. Yet, when
they returned so quickly, and almost hors-de-combat, the scouts could
not help reminding them of their boastful remarks.
One of the General’s aides brought us orders to move on Glasgow
immediately, so as to ascertain what the difficulty was, and the
whereabouts and number of the enemy, and report on the matter. On
reaching Glasgow without adventure the company was dismounted to fight
near the outskirts of the town, and we marched into the town in battle
line, under the supposition that the enemy was still there. I had
command, while Captain Quirk went in advance, as a lookout.
Just as we entered the city square several pistol shots, fired in rapid
succession, were heard, and we, thinking the “Model Tom” was in danger,
advanced to the rescue. But before we could reach him he had captured
two Yankee cavalrymen, belonging to the force that had passed through
the town, and known as “stragglers.” Finding “all quiet along the
Potomac” a courier was dispatched to the General. We had received orders
some time before to advance by the upper pike and strike the Yankee line
of communication, the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, north of Green
River bridge. The others were to proceed on the same line south of the
bridge, and north of the Cave City. I was a member of the latter party.
Leaving the sleeping inhabitants of Glasgow guarded by Morpheus and
Morgan, we marched silently through the city. The brigades arrived a
little later, and we went into camp for the rest of the night.
This was “the night before Christmas,” and during our march that night
“Tom” and I stopped at several parties long enough to enjoy a dance with
some of the girls, very much to their surprise—and gratification, they
said. They had not the remotest idea that Morgan was near. But we danced
our set, though the whole country was alive with the enemy, and the
object for which we had been sent was handsomely accomplished.
Then taking a road leading from the lower pike to the upper, near the
Bear Wallow, we reached it before the other party of scouts came up, we
having gone two sides of the “angle” and they but one. This delay was
caused by the collision which they had, during the night, with the
forces marching through Glasgow, as I have already related. Soon after
we reached the pike and placed our pickets out, the other portion of
scouts came up and related their midnight adventures with the Michigan
cavalry. Then our entire force was reformed, and we began our march
forward.
Before we had proceeded far a courier from the General, then several
miles in our rear, reached us, with orders for us to return with the
information we had gained; also orders for the scouts that had
intercepted us to go forward at a double-quick, if they had not yet
accomplished the object for which they had been sent. As they had not
accomplished it, the Captain again detached them and sent them forward.
When about a mile in advance of us they ran into a picket of the Fifth
Indiana Cavalry, and one of them was sent back to inform Tom. His
response was decisive and to the point. It was a command, “Attention,
scouts! Double quick! Forward!” The scouts answered by clapping spurs to
their horses, and were off like a shot, flying up the pike at a
break-neck pace. Coming up with the rest of the company just after they
had captured several pickets, and ordering them to fall in our rear, on
we went to the charge, for the enemy was in sight, straight ahead, and
in line of battle.
It seemed almost a suicidal act for fifty men to charge a regiment of
five hundred men, yet the scouts charged and engaged them right
gallantly. But there were, at the time, four companies placed in ambush,
two on each side of the pike, and within rifle range. We did not observe
this, and forming our line parallel to the line opposing, we commenced
firing, hotly and rapidly. The force in ambush then advanced, attacking
us in the flank, much to our surprise and discomfiture. As soon as our
position was discovered a counter-march was ordered, and we withdrew out
of this trap, for it was nothing more. Reforming our line, the command
was given, “Right wheel, double-quick! Forward, march!” and on we flew.
Meanwhile, the Yanks had become excited. The line in front had stood
fast, while the right and left flank, in trying to surround us, had
advanced to the pike, a hundred yards in advance of the line, which had
remained stationary. This being their condition at the time we charged
them, right into their midst, yelling like Comanches, we routed them,
and we stampeded and demoralized the first, or main line, by literally
running over them. Turning short left, off of the pike in the direction
of Woodsonville, near Green River Bridge, we pursued them, capturing,
killing and wounding some fifteen or more, and getting spoils of all
kinds. We pursued them about three miles, and returned to the pike in
time to meet the General and take the advance.
In this encounter several scouts were wounded, though the wounds were
not severe enough to entice them from their saddles. Captain Tom
received two shots in the back of his head, but he would not permit the
wounds to be dressed by a surgeon, though the General requested it. Upon
receiving the praise and smiles of our commander for the gallantry
displayed in the skirmish, and turning our prisoners over to the provost
marshal, we went rapidly to the advance, and reached Green River at
sun-down.
Crossing the river we proceeded up the pike about six miles, then turned
off “short left.” It was dark and cloudy, and therefore a disagreeable
march over a country road to Hammondsville, a distance of eight miles,
where we went into camp until the main body came up. When General Morgan
arrived the company was divided into several detachments, and sent in as
many directions to hunt the enemy. No trooper could have envied us that
pleasure, for it was now midnight, very dark, and raining hard. But
knowing that “faint heart ne’er wins,” we struck boldly out to make the
necessary discoveries. When daylight returned it found all the scouts at
headquarters, making their reports to the satisfaction of the General.
In the morning, as soon as we had fed, we took the advance in the
direction of the railroad, near Upton’s. Just as we got in sight of the
railroad we saw on our left and front some twenty or thirty Yankee
infantrymen acting, apparently, as a railroad guard. At the time we
discovered them we were marching in a lane. Putting our horses at the
fence, those that did not go over rode it down, and we all passed over
the field at a sweeping pace, charging the Yanks, who surrendered
without firing a shot, though we gave them a round at short range. A
small force, garrisoned at Upton’s Station, was also captured soon
afterward.
“Lightning,” our telegraph operator, tapped the wire, and his office
opened in a few minutes. Lieut.-Col. Hutchison, of the Second, with a
detachment, compelled the surrender of the force in the stockade at
Bacon Creek bridge, the first station south of Upton’s, then burnt the
bridge. This made the third time our command had destroyed that bridge.
We were ordered to “Nolinn” bridge to find the position of the stockade
and the force that garrisoned it. Approaching quite near without their
knowledge, we were about to open fire when an officer, with an escort,
and bearing a flag of truce from the General, rode past us, to “demand
an immediate and unconditional surrender.” The officer in command agreed
if we could show him three pieces of artillery. When he rode out to see
the three pieces he saw six instead, and he submitted without a word. We
proceeded then to burn the bridge and the stockade.
As soon as this had been accomplished we moved on Elizabethtown, found
the outpost just at dawn, and went into camp. The General then ordered
the scouts from the advance, and instructed them to remain inside of the
lines during the night. This he did to insure them some relief, since
they had been on the outpost for several days and nights in succession,
without sleep or rest.
We fared sumptuously that night on the many delicacies we had captured
the day previous from the sutlers’ wagons, things intended for the
Christmas holidays. These luxuries fell into unexpected hands, yet they
were none the less appreciated by us for being unexpected. Possibly we
enjoyed them all the more.
Early the next morning we scouts went to the front, and relieved the
troops acting as advance. Within two or three miles we met Federal
pickets, and had a skirmish with them, driving them back to within a
mile of town. A Yankee captain, under a flag of truce, met us. He
carried a message to the General, demanding unconditional and immediate
surrender of the forces; further, the message said that we were
surrounded by an overwhelming force, and that escape was impossible. We
detained the Yankee captain while the message was forwarded to the
General by one of the scouts.
When the scout returned he carried, for reply to the Yanks, the same
message, except that the General’s signature was attached. For the
General, believing that the enemy were trying to gain time, demanded the
same thing of them that they had demanded of us—unconditional surrender
within fifteen minutes; and if this demand was not acceded to, they were
ordered to move the non-combatants out of town. Not receiving a response
within the given time we had orders to advance, and we executed them
with a will, driving the Yankee outposts back upon their main line with
confusion. We then received instructions to make our way around the town
and cut off their retreat. This we did, destroying the Louisville and
Nashville Railroad for over two miles, and capturing fifteen or twenty
infantrymen who were guarding the road. The brigade encamped in and near
the town that night.
The next day we moved against the forces guarding the trestle at
Muldrough’s Hill, composed of two regiments. The one just captured at
Elizabethtown was a very large regiment, about eight hundred strong. As
there were two trestle works, both were attacked at the same time, and
after a pretty warm fight of an hour’s duration they surrendered
unconditionally, after which all their effects, stores of all kinds,
stockades and trestles were burned to the ground. The prisoners were
paroled before dark.
Regaining the pike we marched to the Rolling Fork River, and all,
excepting the scouts, bivouacked on the south side. We crossed the river
and went on outpost duty, keeping a vigilant watch all night. Early the
next morning all of the command crossed to the north side, save one
regiment, the Eighth, which was attacked by a large force of Yankees who
had come up during the night.
Colonel Duke, being still on the south side, superintending the crossing
of the troops, took command of this regiment, and led them in person
against the enemy. Our men charged the Yankees furiously and
desperately, hurling them back with great confusion, and almost
capturing their battery, which had been throwing shells into the ford
and into our camp beyond. One shell alone killed No. Three and the four
horses he was holding. The artillery would certainly have been captured
had not Colonel Duke fallen, severely wounded by a piece of shell, and
been carried off the field unconscious. He was removed by Captain Tom,
who, with a detachment, had been sent for him. The Eighth was withdrawn,
and crossed without any further interference on the part of the Yankees,
who seemed not inclined to renew the engagement.
When the entire command had succeeded in crossing, and during the
advance on the little town of Boston, a town on the Lebanon Branch
Railroad about ten miles from Bardstown, we were deployed on both flanks
as skirmishers until we drew near Boston, then were ordered to Rolling
Fork, to notice the movement of the enemy; for they were in line on the
opposite bank of the river, and showed no inclination to come over.
Remaining some time within short rifle range and within speaking
distance, we finally returned to the advance and reported the situation
to the General. When we entered Bardstown we captured the small garrison
stationed there, besides a large and valuable amount of army stores. We
remained all night, snugly and safely housed, and supplied by the
citizens with everything necessary to the comfort and happiness of a
soldier.
Early next morning we started in the direction of Lebanon, by way of the
Springfield pike, and reached Springfield very late in the evening. It
was cold, and there was a storm of driving rain and sleet. Then
commenced a night’s march long to be remembered by us for its severity
and the suffering it caused. Finding that the enemy had concentrated a
large force in Lebanon and fortified it strongly for the express purpose
of intercepting our march, the General thought too much of his boys, and
perhaps estimated his captured stores too highly, to think of moving
against vastly superior numbers, and those numbers equipped with a large
amount of ordnance, all strongly entrenched and fortified. “Most
assuredly not,” said our General. He did not for one moment intend to
advance on their front, as they thought he would do.
No, the programme for the night was quite differently arranged,
doubtless to their surprise and disappointment. We fed our stock in and
around Springfield, and were on the road a little after dark, headed
toward Lebanon. We had decided to pass around Lebanon by taking a side
road that passed within two miles of that city, and intersected with the
pike on Muldrough’s Hill, a few miles south of town. When within four
miles of Lebanon our forces bore off on the side road in silence, with
part of the scouts in advance, while the others were ordered by the
General to make a feint upon the enemy by an attack in front. This was
done in gallant style, and the pickets were driven back into town in
great disorder; we even charged almost into their main line, then
stationed behind breastworks.
Before we left them I imagine they were deeply impressed with the idea
that Morgan was advancing on the town in force, instead of marching
around it, as he was in reality. The farce was handsomely executed. A
few men kept them under arms, and frightened them so that it is not
supposed that a man was put on extra duty for sleeping on his post
_that_ night. And when daylight appeared we disappeared, and soon after
rejoined our command, then six miles south of Lebanon, en route to
Campbellsville. After we had reported to the General he sent us to the
advance to join the rest of the scouts.
Our accomplished operator, “Lightning”—Captain Ellsworth—was sent with
us to tap the telegraph line a short distance ahead. In due time
“Lightning” opened his office; that is, one of the boys climbed a
telegraph pole and separated a wire, and “Lightning” attached his
battery to it.
It was truly amusing to hear the “operator” repeating the dispatches as
they went flying through his office. The operator at Danville, for
instance, informs Campbellsville that the picket has just been run in by
“Morgan,” and that he has his traps fixed to leave at a minute’s
warning. Stanford says, “Morgan is approaching with three thousand
cavalry and several pieces of artillery. Send reinforcements.”
Campbellsville wires to Danville, “Morgan is now before Lebanon, engaged
in a hot skirmish”; and tells Stanford, at the same time, “All the
troops able for duty have gone from Columbia stockade at Green River
Bridge.” To Lebanon, Campbellsville says, “Save a few companies to
protect the hospital and the army stores.”
From the many conflicting dispatches one might have thought there were
fifty Morgans, each Morgan with a force before each town, in ten
counties square! In reality, the boys seemed nonplussed, they were
reported in so many places at the same time, and doing so many different
things. They even doubted their own identity. To satisfy themselves, and
to prove that they were not mistaken as to their whereabouts, some of
them were found pinching themselves to discover whether they were
members of Morgan’s Cavalry or not.
Having obtained all the news afloat we mounted and double-quicked into
Campbellsville, reaching there a little before sunset, and capturing two
or three companies of infantry, three hundred invalids in the hospital,
whom we paroled, and also capturing a large amount of commissary and
quartermaster stores, and, I might add, a few dry-goods stores, all of
which, when the General arrived, were in charge of the scouts.
Meanwhile, our horses had been housed in the hotel and livery stables,
and had everything they liked, and plenty of it, before them. The boys,
likewise, feasted on the captured stores and the luxuries so bountifully
provided by the ladies. “Lightning” was in his office the principal part
of the night, being located on a conspicuous woodpile in the center of
the street. Early the next morning we were on our way to Columbia, which
place we reached about 4 o’clock in the evening, and there we stayed
till dark, feeding our horses, as well as ourselves, resting, and
shopping at the several dry-goods stores. We did our shopping here
because we knew that it was our last chance for some time to come. And
here, too, two hospitals, containing about two hundred invalids, with a
few well Yankees, were captured and paroled.
At dark we mounted, and were soon on our way to Burksville, on the
Cumberland River. This was the last night of the year 1862. Many
incidents occurred to remind me of the fact, but they were so numerous
that I have not the patience to pen them. It was one of the severest
nights we had marched. Ten miles from Burksville we descended into a
pleasant valley, through which runs a beautiful creek. The creek was
frozen hard. There were many handsome farms and farmhouses along this
stream, and most of these were brilliantly lighted up when we passed
them, though it was past midnight. But when we remember the people were
sitting up to give the New Year a fitting reception, it was not strange.
We found as many as four houses in which the young people had collected
to “trip the light fantastic,” and neither the night nor the command
will ever be effaced from the memory of those same young people. For,
fortunately for the scouts, and unfortunately for those attending the
parties, “ladies not excepted,” the horses which had carried them to the
party carried many of the boys away. Such a temptation could not be
resisted by the scouts, especially as the horses were in such good
position for leading off.
Was it not almost a “blot” upon the characters of the bold cavaliers,
their leaving the young ladies to “foot it home” next morning? It may
have been, but as “our” now excellent President so often says, “Not if
we know ourselves, and we think we do.” I may mention, by way of
apology, perhaps, that the next day we would be in Tennessee, and hence
in our own lines, and such acts would not be permitted by the
Confederate States. Besides that, when we started on this raid thirteen
of our company had been left behind because they were not mounted, and
they had our promises that we would bring each a “charger.”
Very many were the complaints made to the General, when he passed half
an hour later, concerning the horses. He told the ladies, who insisted
that their horses must have been taken by some of his men, that if his
scouts had really taken their fine riding-horses he would have every one
of the men shot without the benefit of a court-martial. It seemed as if
many of the ladies believed the General was in earnest, for they, the
tenderhearted, afterward begged him to spare our lives, but please send
their riding-horses. This he promised to do, I have no doubt.
On the General’s reaching the town, about 4 o’clock in the morning, he
found us in quiet possession. We had taken it without a struggle at 3
o’clock, when we commenced to cross the river, on our way to Livingston,
Kentucky. Nothing of interest happened during the march. The excitement
of the raid was fast expiring, and the boys were nodding as they rode
along. Tired nature must have rest, and nature certainly had been
severely tested during the past two weeks.
Livingston was gained before dark, and, passing through the town, we
camped several miles on the road leading to Smithville, which town was
reached, without excitement, on the succeeding day. Remaining near the
town over night, the scouts received orders the following morning to
march to Liberty, a distance of fifteen miles, which place we reached on
the 7th of January, and we remained there, on outpost duty, until April.
During this period, from January 7th to the first of April, we had, for
the better part of the time, no support nearer than McMinnville, thirty
miles distant, where the General had his headquarters, with a part of
his command camped near him, the most of it being stationed at Woodbury
and Readyville, and on the enemy’s left flank. For the enemy was in
possession of Murfreesboro, and “Old Rosey” was in command there. Our
company was on his left, and something like twenty miles from
Murfreesboro. General Bragg’s forces were in Tullahoma.
The stirring incidents, daring scouts, hot skirmishes, and spirited
engagements in which we took part during the winter cannot be related,
as I would desire, on account of space. But I will mention a few.
Seldom, if ever, were we idle while our camp was in Liberty. The field
which the General had intrusted to our surveillance was so extensive as
to keep us almost constantly in the saddle. We watched the movements of
the enemy night and day, and we skirmished with him daily, sometimes
near Murfreesboro, or near Lavergne, Nashville, and in the vicinity of
Gallatin, Huntsville, Carthage, and Lebanon. This was a mammoth
undertaking for one company, yet we succeeded in gaining the approbation
of our General.
By our vigilance, our daring scouts and rapid movements, we kept the
General thoroughly posted as to the whereabouts of the enemy. Very often
the report would reach him, “The scouts are cut off!” but he would
always reply, “They will cut on again!” Such a thing had so often
happened without our failing to report, or without in any way causing us
to be detained, that he had no fears as to our success, and our safe
return at the proper time, together with all the necessary intelligence.
It did not matter how severe the struggle, how long it lasted, or how
desperately it was contested, it was called then, and it will be called
in the written history of the great struggle, “only a skirmish.” Yet in
no part of the service is daring gallantry and real pluck better
illustrated than in these hand-to-hand encounters. There is in them a
greater display of courage than there is in a general engagement.
Besides all this, it is a deplorable fact that the number of brave
comrades killed in “only a skirmish” is not few. Indeed, there are often
enough killed to startle those who have had no experience in the “art of
killing.” This fact is not to be effaced or forgotten when considering
these so-called “skirmishes.”
Well, now for some of the incidents of those months, incidents which may
not be related in their proper order, but which are true.
“Once upon a time” General Morgan, with a small escort, reached Liberty,
and, taking a part of the scouts who wore _blue_ overcoats, started in
the direction of the City of Rocks. Many were the surmises of the boys
as to the General’s intentions, but most of them came to the conclusion
that they were to pay Nashville a visit in person. But it was all
surmise, for he alone knew the purpose. When we came to the river we saw
a Yankee scout on the opposite bank, within hailing.
In his quick way the General demanded, “Whose command is that?” They
replied, “Morgan’s scouts from Nashville. What command is that?” The
General replied, in a real New England tone, “Ninth Kentucky Cavalry
from Murfreesboro,” and added, “Have you any late papers?” When the
Yankee officer, whose name was Morgan, replied that he had, the General
remarked that he would send some of his men over for them. As the Stone
River was very high, we crossed in a ferry-boat, some half a dozen of
us, in charge of “Captain Tom.” When we gained the opposite bank we rode
carelessly up the slope, filed right and left, and enclosed the captain
and six of his men before they suspected or had time to say us nay. Of
course the late papers were soon in our hands.
There was one man a little distance off whom we could not encircle, and
on seeing our action he took wing to flee away, but he was not quicker
than one of our scouts who pursued him. It was a hot but short chase,
for the scout’s second shot from his six-shooter unhorsed him. He proved
to be an Indian, having long black hair. His steed he rode like “a thing
of life.”
The scout that shot him, and who was warmly praised for his gallant
conduct, while disarming him of certain unnecessary articles, espied,
unpleasantly near, a line of battle. This line had been formed and left
there by the captured officer, who had gone to the ford to make some
observations. On reporting this information to the General he ordered us
to cross back, with our prisoners. As the ferry-boat could not carry
all, three of the boys swam it on their horses. This collision with the
enemy probably foiled the plans of the General, for he countermarched,
and, after scouting some, returned to camp.
On another occasion, when our company was scouting in the direction of
Lebanon, on arriving at the “twelve-mile post” from that place,
intelligence reached us that the enemy was in force in the little
village of Statesville, which was on our short left, six miles distant.
Being on the lookout for specimens of that description, it was soon
determined that we would go and see for ourselves. It was a well-known
fact that scouts never reported “what others had seen,” but what they
themselves had actually seen “with their own eyes.” Therefore, we filed
off on the road leading to Statesville, advancing at a double-quick
pace. The enemy’s rear-guard was in sight when we reached the town, but
was marching in the direction of Auburn.
Several Rebels who had been badly wounded by the Yankees, were in town,
and the female inhabitants were in a high state of excitement, many
women running out into the street to intercept our march, and begging
and imploring us not to advance farther with such a band, telling us the
enemy’s force was very large, and included infantry, cavalry, and
artillery. However, very little heed was paid to their story, but with
“fire-lit” eyes, color in the cheeks, and a terrific yell, such as only
Rebels could give, we charged at a pace by no means slow, irrespective
of numbers, driving the rear upon the first regiment hurriedly and
confusedly. The rear regiment was compelled to face about and form line
to the rear in support of its guard.
This was the principal object for which we charged, to cause them to
show “an inferior force” their entire number. Before we left them we had
the satisfaction of seeing the number of regiments of infantry, cavalry,
and pieces of artillery, all of which took position to the rear in
anticipation of a general attack. Our purpose attained, with a parting
salute into their main line we disappeared on a left-hand road leading
to Alexandria and back to the pike we so recently had left. We galloped
away much to their surprise and mortification.
It was five miles to Alexandria, seven to Liberty, making twelve miles
in all, and the enemy when we left was within eight miles of either
Liberty or Auburn on a road that struck the pike from Liberty to
Murfreesboro at right angles and half way between the places, and this
was the reason for our haste to report to camp near Liberty, where most
of the brigade had arrived the previous day.
When two miles from Liberty we met General Morgan and staff, who had
just come from McMinnville. His first question was:
“Boys, where are the Yanks?”
It was a surprise to him to receive for reply:
“General, four thousand, composed of infantry, cavalry and artillery,
commanded by General Hall, passed through Statesville scarce an hour and
a half ago on the road intersecting with this pike three miles distant.”
Thanking us for such prompt intelligence, he dismissed us with
instructions to go to our quarters in town and report to him at
daylight.
Armed cap-a-pie, not sooner did the first gray streaks of morning appear
in the east than the company were “fronted into line” at the General’s
headquarters, for duty. On receiving his instructions—ever brief and
pointed—we moved off rapidly in the direction of Auburn to execute the
orders, “Find the enemy, attack and hold him in check until you are
relieved by the brigade which will soon follow you.” This done, nothing
more would be required of us during the day.
Down the pike we flew at a frightful rate, and soon came in sight of
Auburn and, a little farther on, the smoke of the enemy’s camp-fires.
Yet, without reining our horses, we passed through the town, up the
pike, and into a dense cloud of smoke rising from the deserted
camp-fires. But, lo! the birds had early flown in the direction of
Murfreesboro. Again that oft-repeated command, “Double quick; forward,
march!”
Rowels were used eagerly, and our chargers, with nostrils distended,
answered with increased speed. Arriving at farmhouses on the way we were
told that the enemy was only a short distance ahead, and that the
officers were hurrying their men forward by reminding them that “Morgan
will get you,” etc.