Murfreesboro. They discovered us almost as soon as we espied them,
informing us “gently” of the fact, with a round of grape and canister
shot, and thereby wounding one of the vidette’s horses severely. The
second shot exploded but a short distance above my head, while I was
leading the company, “Captain Tom” being with the videttes.
We pressed steadily on, however, until the advance opened on the cavalry
guarding the rear. Then right-obliquing and forwarding into line,
leaving our horses in charge of No. Three, we dismounted to fight,
deploying as we advanced. The enemy’s main force could be seen
distinctly just beyond the edge of the town, the rear-guard holding
possession of the village. On consolidating with the fire of the advance
the cavalry guarding the enemy’s rear gave way; but soon after a squad
of “Web-Foots” was seen hurrying up the pike to the post which the
cavalry had deserted.
The boys made the discovery quickly, warning each other with, “Look out,
boys; here come the Webs!”
We had already gained a position in an open field, protected by a large
fence on our left and front, and as the infantry advanced in fours up
the pike we opened so hot a fire upon them that they retreated also. At
the same time their main force was in an open field, with a regiment on
each flank, field and staff in the center, forming one of the grandest
“hollow squares” that we ever saw. Their ordnance was stationed on the
pike, well supported. It was a magnificent sight and admirably executed.
They doubtless believed that we were about to charge them, but we had no
such intention.
One of the General’s aids, Captain Williams, of South Carolina, informed
us the command was near. Until they reached us we were under a terrific
fire of shot and shell, with no alternative save to hold our position
until relieved. It was a glad sight to us to see the Third Kentucky
Cavalry take post immediately on our left and rear, followed closely by
the Second, which formed on our right, and the Tenth, which took place
on our extreme left. We knew by this that the General’s eye was upon us,
and our anxieties were over.
The column advanced, and we were relieved with liberty to act as we
pleased. Well, we pleased to go around the enemy and strike him between
that place and Murfreesboro, which we did successfully, capturing
seventeen flying cavalrymen, the Yankee general’s horse fully equipped,
exterminating a member of the “Freedmen’s Bureau” who was found in arms
against his friends and country, and then pursued a detachment of
cavalry with a few miles of their main encampment, which perhaps had
been sent for reinforcement.
On returning to the scene of action, the firing, which had been very
severe, had ceased and we were in some doubt as to how the battle had
terminated. But while passing near the enemy he took the liberty of
throwing a few shells, without injury to any one, which was good
evidence that he was in defiance still. On finding and reporting to the
General, he was exceedingly angry; and well might he be—the ammunition
had been exhausted, many of his “bravest and best” had fallen, and the
enemy was still unconquered.
Our lines went forward with great spirit and gallantry to their rear,
but unfortunately we compelled the Yankees to take refuge in one of the
best positions to be found anywhere. This was on a hill in shape
resembling a pyramid, in the center of a valley, not connected with the
neighboring range, thickly wooded and naturally fortified with immense
rocks, which afforded ample protection to the enemy. We found it
impossible to dislodge him from this position, although our troops
fought desperately.
The General justly complained that there was not concert of action, and
seemed determined to take them, ammunition or not. But ere the assault
began the Yankees were heard loudly cheering, and we knew reinforcements
had arrived.
Quickly turning to the boys, the General told them to halloa manfully,
and such yells filled the air as were never heard before, I am sure. He
then dispatched an aide to the officer commanding his artillery, with
instructions to silence the Yankee battery.
In the short space of half an hour nine men were killed and fifteen
wounded—surely a great sacrifice of lives just to silence a battery. But
they hushed the Yankee and compelled him to “limber up.” This was the
conclusion of the battle of Milton.
With sad and depressed hearts we sullenly withdrew and began our march
to camp. Foiled, but not whipped, we always remembered it as a blank
page in our book of successes. Although the enemy received heavy
reinforcements, he had not the impudence or pluck to follow us. Our
encampment was reached late, and we all went to sleep without being
rocked.
To mention all of our actions would be to write a voluminous history.
Such a purpose I have not the mind nor the time to undertake, and if I
had you would not, I fear, have sufficient patience to follow my
meanderings. I will only “touch and go.”
At one time, being advised by a scout that the garrison stationed at
Carthage had crossed a large foraging party to the south bank of the
Cumberland, we quickly mounted and started in that direction. The
outpost which had been pushed forward in case of a surprise was soon
discovered on a distant hilltop. A halt was ordered, preparatory to
making a charge on horse. This was contrary to our usual custom, as we
generally dismounted to fight. It was plainly seen that the enemy
outnumbered us, there being upward of thirty, while our number was
scarce twenty-five. But in imagination we were much more.
Dismounting to tighten our saddle girths, buttoning up our “faded
grays,” and with everything closely rigged, we again mounted and
advanced at a brisk canter. We were not perceived until within gunshot.
We hoped to close on them before they could form, but although they
showed some confusion at our rapid advance, the commanding officer was
an old veteran, keeping his men well in hand and pretty steady, and much
to our surprise and without our consent gave the command to fire when we
were but ten yards distant. And yet the greatest wonder to all was that
none received a hurt. They were infantry, without a second shot unless
they reloaded, and it was not in our program to give them that
advantage, so they came to the position of “charge bayonets,” while we
reined our horses at a respectful distance beyond their reach. We
presented “navies” with the command “Surrender, and ground arms!” which
was instantly done, they perceiving our advantage over them.
Putting the prisoners under the protection of some of the company en
route to camp, we thought a further little venture might be interesting
as well as profitable. On descending into the valley leading into the
river we could see trains of wagons guarded by infantry scattered over
the various farms, gathering forage.
Seeing some half a dozen wagons on the nearest plantation with only a
small guard, we clapped spurs and went, helter skelter, right into their
midst, without saying so much as “By your leave, gentlemen.” Not a shot
was fired, so much were they surprised and frightened. Taking their guns
and putting the prisoners in the wagons with pistols unpleasantly near
to each driver’s head, we moved off at a pace that would rival an
express train, before the “Webs” had time to come to the rescue. We were
very certain they could not catch us; infantry never did. Liberty was
soon in view, and not long after we had the pleasure of turning our
spoils and prisoners over to the General.
At another time, while scouting in the vicinity of “old Rosey,” we
charged a large wagon-train out on a foraging expedition. They had a
guard much too numerous for us to capture, but we successfully ran
twenty of their wagons off in charge of their drivers, who were pressed
into service, and, though hotly pursued by a larger force, carried them
safely to camp.
After no little hot skirmishing, sometimes we could be found on the
banks of the Cumberland between Gallatin and Carthage attacking
gun-boats; at other times, chasing the enemy down by the Hermitage; then
at Murfreesboro fighting with Rosecrans’s outpost, or pursuing the
enemy’s cavalry and frequently being pursued ourselves by forces more
than our size. Very often we caused trains to lay over at way stations
by disconnecting the rails, and thus secured a variety of
“Shoulder-strapped gentry” in connection with other articles of value.
When the brigade accompanied us we had always the post of honor—the van.
Not few were the skirmishes on such occasions, for then we were a more
saucy and formidable band, knowing that our General was in supporting
distance. No slight barrier turned us back when the boys were all along.
During the winter’s campaign we twice gave up Liberty to the enemy so
that we could take position on Snow’s Hill, two and a half miles in our
rear, which nature had strongly fortified.
At the first engagement, after a severe contest, we repulsed and drove
them almost to their main lines in great disorder. The second ended not
so handsomely for us. By a flank movement, with superior numbers, they
compelled us to withdraw. But at neither engagement was the General or
Colonel Duke with us, and to this our failure may be laid.
We were commanded by Colonel Gano of the Third and Colonel Breckinridge
of the Ninth, and it was by them arranged that when the division under
General Stanley was advancing upon us that we were to fall steadily back
to Snow Hill and there give him fight. We were to act the part of
seeming to skirmish with him and, if possible, draw him into our
position. When that was accomplished we were to take post on our extreme
right and front and watch them to keep them from flanking us.
We perceived, however, that their intention was to flank our left, and
we hastened to our lines on top of the hill to report. Arriving
alongside of the battery, we dismounted and formed a line in advance of
our guns, all the time under a severe fire from the enemy’s artillery.
Meanwhile, one regiment after another was seen passing in the direction
of our left, we occupying the center. Very soon after the officer
guarding our left reported by a courier that the enemy was at his front,
the next courier said they were hard pressed, and the third courier from
the officer reported that he was compelled to give way before such odds,
and not until then was the Third Regiment sent to his support, followed
by the Fifth.
It was too late, however, to render the assistance needed or to regain
the position thus lost, though not too late to hold the enemy in check
until the withdrawal of our forces, which we had commenced to do. This
was our only alternative, for we were certainly outflanked.
The regiments withdrew in order, leaving us deployed as skirmishers, in
front of where our battery had been stationed, which was now on the way
to the rear, where we were soon ordered.
On reaching the road by which we were flanked the guns of the Third and
Fifth were opening sharply, and, not being under orders, “Tom” led us in
that direction for new adventures. In a few moments we were in it as
hotly as the rest, but to no effect. They had gained the position and it
was impossible to dislodge them.
Again, at all hazards, we were instructed to hold the rear, so that the
others could move off; but we did not tarry long however, though we
stayed long enough to have seven men badly wounded.
Retreating over a mile, we met Colonel Duke, who took command, to the
entire satisfaction of all, and formed his line of battle. This was done
to no purpose, however, for when the Yankees struck the main road they
took the Liberty end, expecting to capture at least a portion of the
command. In this they were mistaken, for we had withdrawn in time. They
went back to Liberty and encamped, while Duke kept the hill.
The scouts were sent out after dark to watch the enemy’s movements. We
had not proceeded far before we engaged a force which seemed to be equal
to us in number. We had a hot skirmish to drive them back. This force
was afterward discovered to be General Morgan and escort, who had just
arrived from McMinnville, and not knowing what had occurred, had struck
the road between us and the enemy. He laughed heartily the next morning
as we were pursuing the enemy through Liberty.
The enemy thought to hold his ground, but we made it so hot that to save
himself he was compelled to give way. However, a part of the rear-guard
was captured before they gained their lines. The enemy’s force consisted
of four brigades, two each of cavalry and infantry, with artillery
attached, while we could muster but one brigade and a limited amount of
artillery. Such a large force could not be handled successfully by us,
and all we could do was to work on their edges.
Before the winter was over this same force met the General and gained a
decided victory over him at McMinnville by driving “himself, wife and
staff, and one company of couriers” out of town, the brigade being
stationed at several different points some distance from his
headquarters. Even then he handled them so roughly that they pressed him
very timidly.
The General and Lieut.-Col. Martin of the Tenth Regiment were the last
to leave town. Passing down one street the Yankees tried hard to
intercept them; as it was, they met the head of the Yankee column, into
which they emptied two rounds from their pistols, unhorsing two of them.
At the same moment Colonel Martin was shot through and through, near the
center of his breast. However, he paid little attention to his wound,
for he joined his regiment that evening, ten miles distant.
With these and many more of such adventures the winter wore away, and
spring, “more sweet, more gay,” returned. The General’s brother, Maj. R.
C. Morgan, late of A. P. Hill’s staff, was ordered to take command of a
regiment under General Morgan, which was then forming, and which was
afterward called the Fourteenth Kentucky Cavalry. The scouts, by order
of the General, reported to the then Colonel, as our chief said “only
temporarily,” but we never left him until captured. Our letter in the
Fourteenth was B, and we were the Colonel’s pets. At the time we were
attached to the regiment it was encamped on Oby River, not far from the
State line, and about ten miles from the town of Burksville, Kentucky.
There were several new companies in our regiment whose officers knew
very little about military tactics. Company B, because of its long
experience, was styled “Veterans.” We were required by the Colonel to
drill these new companies, which was done daily for several weeks in
succession. The sergeants of Company B were oftentimes in command of the
battalion on drill; others drilled companies, our corporals commanded
platoons, and privates were in charge of sections, with their own
company officers in the ranks learning the arts of war, alongside of
their own men. I am pretty sure they will never forget the three drills
daily during our days of instruction. Company B certainly impressed them
with the belief that they were not only veterans, but men of energy and
of “long wind.” When they had received their education and their
“sheepskins” in proof our attention was called in other directions.
Scouting again became our duty, very often making short raids into
Kentucky, and patroling the Cumberland generally. I will give you only
one of our many expeditions, and that because you will probably take
more interest in it, a near relative of your family having been in
command.
A great many scouting parties had been detached to Albany so frequently
that it had become a disagreeable duty, the instructions given them
being nearly the same every time. When the time arrived for Company B to
go on duty it happened that the Albany scout was again the order of the
day. The instructions on reporting at headquarters were not only short,
but simple and easily understood. They were, “Proceed to Albany with
thirty men, and find out where the enemy is.”
Determined to do so, we filed out on the Albany road, but not before
Captain “Tom” remarked, “I hope that you will make the necessary
discoveries, for not until then will these long marches cease.”
Vowing that we would never return save with the intelligence required,
we galloped off. Crossing the Oby and Wolf rivers we commenced to ascend
the hills beyond, in the severest fall of rain that man ever witnessed,
which continued till dark, and when the detachment was within four miles
of Albany. The water ran down the sides of the mountain in torrents, and
it was with great difficulty that we ascended. Our horses could scarcely
keep their feet with such a fall of water against them.
Halting two miles from town and leaving all but three men and a guide to
await our return, we entered with caution the county-seat of Clinton
County. Not a light was visible to cheer the wanderers, and all was
still as death. The noise made by the clattering of our horses’ feet
sounded hollow and “passing strange.” It seemed as if we were hundreds
of feet below terra firma, passing through and exploring some
subterranean village. Well might it have been appropriately called “the
Deserted Village,” from its gloomy, desolate, and extremely sad
appearance.
After an interview with an old Southerner living near the town, who had
nothing reliable to communicate, and finding no enemy, we returned to
the place where the rest of the scouts had been left. Having previously
decided to send all of the men with the exception of six and the guide
to camp under the charge of a sergeant, we selected the best scouts and
horses.
Returning again to Albany, we took the Monticello road, with the full
and express determination to find the enemy if there was any on top of
the ground. When daylight appeared we had far advanced into Wayne
County, over which the notorious Yankee bushwhacker, “Tinker Dave
Beatty,” ruled with an iron will. Although the actions of some of the
inhabitants looked very suspicious, yet our little band advanced without
any interruption, but on the alert.
Crossing Poplar Mountain and passing into the valley, we halted to see a
friendly doctor; but not until our picket had been sent forward in case
of a surprise, for we suspected that the enemy was not far off. Calling
to see the doctor we found him absent, but his lady informed us that he
had gone to visit a patient near the “Yankee encampment,” and would soon
return. It was exciting to one’s nerves to hear that the enemy was so
near.
Mounting our horses we advanced scarce three miles, when we halted
opposite a widow’s house, whose son was in Wolford’s Yankee Kentucky
Cavalry. All of the surroundings intimated that the enemy was near, but
nothing save a sight of him would do us. Ordering two of the boys ahead
for “lookouts,” with the intention of soon following, we dismounted to
inspect the widow’s establishment to see if there was anything about
that had Uncle Sam on it, but discovered nothing worth carrying away. I
am, however, convinced of the fact that the widow sent a courier to camp
to apprise them of our whereabouts.
Just as we mounted there came the sharp report of a Minie, then another,
and still another in quick succession. We soon learned that there was
something in that direction that had “U. S.” upon it. As proof of that
fact, there came the videttes, flying like the wind, from whom I learned
that a large force of Yankee cavalry was hotly pursuing them. I quickly
instructed the guide and those with me to fall rapidly back to the gap
through which the road passes over Poplar Mountain, then gave them
orders to dismount and fight upon reaching there and if possible to hold
the gap, and I would join them in a short while.
The place selected was one that had been closely observed while passing
it, being a position possessing advantages closely resembling the Pass
of Thermopylae, so often quoted in history, and where a chosen few,
under Leonidas, defeated such multitudes. Do not let my comparisons
amuse you too much. I will confess they are sometimes used strangely and
no doubt inappropriately; yet there must be some likeness, you will
admit. Nor do I wish you to think the commander of this little band a
Leonidas, or the gap in the mountain Thermopylae. Most assuredly not;
but think you what it pleases, for it is time to end this topic.
Here come the Yankee cavalry, full tilt, the scouts being already out of
sight. But the “Black Horse,” which had so often proven himself true,
thereby gaining his rider’s entire confidence, stood firm, with his head
to the foe, violently champing his bit, eagerly and nervously watching
the approach of the then over-confident enemy, awaiting the word to go.
As they turned an angle in the road, less than one hundred yards
distant, we took the liberty of counting them. I counted seventeen, and
still they came; and as they came the cry was “Halt! Halt!”—a word with
no meaning in this case.
The “Black Horse” was still standing deathly still. The enemy opened the
firing about sixty yards off, to which one of Colt’s—English—best
replied twice in quick succession, and then the gallant “Black,” with
his rider’s permission, executed one of the most brilliant feats in
horse history. Rearing up and posing gracefully, he changed his front at
one leap, and quick as thought was in a dead run, followed by the Yanks,
firing and yelling, but to no purpose, for the “Black” had the heels on
them.
Dropping reins and turning half around in the saddle, several
well-directed shots were aimed back when occasion required it and
opportunity offered, and the shots seemed to carry some little influence
with them. We noticed that those leading the column were not so eager or
so particular to use their rowels too often, for fear of getting
disagreeably near.
When near the gap, where my men were lying in ambush, I reined up,
hoping to draw the enemy on; but the situation of the country looked so
suspicious that they held up also. Thinking they would pursue, I again
rode rapidly forward, passing through the gap without seeing a man, yet
knowing that they were there and on the alert.
But the suspicious foe could not be prevailed upon or enticed to follow
a single horseman through, imagining, doubtless, that there was a larger
force awaiting them in ambuscade. We remained there for some time, then
perceiving that it was not their intention to advance on us, and
apprehending a flank movement, we slowly withdrew on the road to Albany.
Two roads from beyond the gap led into town, and by using one of them we
could be intercepted. Knowing this, it was thought wise to leave town
over night, and strike the road a mile beyond, which we did with the
assistance of our guide.
On reaching Wolf River at midnight we found its banks overflowed, which
necessitated our swimming across with our horses. The same condition
existed at Oby, and we did not arrive at camp until a little after
daylight, when we at once reported all we knew to the Colonel, and then
went to our headquarters to rest, having been in our saddles nearly
fifty hours. Much to the delight of the scouts, this was the last foray
in the direction of Monticello.
Shortly after this occurrence the brigade had a very severe engagement
with the same forces at Greasy Creek, near Monticello; but we routed
them and drove them across the country so rapidly that quite a number
were drowned.
The General soon after this moved his command down to Carthage, crossing
the river above at Hardee’s Ford. He quietly advanced on the town, which
was garrisoned by a brigade, including infantry, cavalry, and artillery.
With his plans for attack almost in readiness, the General would have
issued orders for an assault had it not been for the instructions that
reached him from General Bragg, ordering him to make his last great
raid, which ended so unpleasantly.
I should have first related that the brigade, under the command of
Colonel Duke, before the fight at Greasy Creek, made a raid to
Alexandria and Lebanon, via Statesville and Beards’ Mills, with the
intention of cutting Minty’s cavalry brigade off from Murfreesboro,
forcing him to fight. But he would not stand, except to skirmish and
retreat. Company B continued the pursuit until within their lines. It
was afterward reported by a Yankee correspondent and published in the
_Louisville Journal_, that Minty’s cavalry had met and defeated John
Morgan near Lebanon, Tennessee, the article also telling of a “gallant
sabre charge” the Yankees had made, and what they did not cut into
pieces was run out of the country, etc. It was described in such glowing
terms that on paper it seemed most terrific. What a pity it was false!
All the charges made with their sabres on that day were not only few,
but “very far between” them and us, they using their spurs to make it
farther.
When General Morgan withdrew his forces from Carthage to go to the south
bank of the river he ordered each regiment to move by different roads in
the direction of Burksville, where the command was to be concentrated
preparatory to the “gallop” through Kentucky, Indiana and Ohio. The “gay
Fourteenth” marched via Liberty, McMinnville, Sparta, Cooksville, and
Livingston, reaching the encampment near the river opposite Burksville
on the last day of June, 1863.
As soon as all the preparations necessary to a long march were made,
such as issuing rations and ammunition, and providing for the “lame,
sick, and lazy,” the crossing of the Cumberland was begun on the evening
of the 30th of June. The first and second companies—A and B—of the
Fourteenth Kentucky succeeded in crossing, although the river could not
be contained within the limits of its banks; but it was by a difficult
swim. On gaining the north bank we were sent on an outpost that night.
It was not much unlike the crossing of the Delaware in the years gone
by, the difference being that “the Father of his Country” had to contend
against large masses of floating ice, with his enemy in the rear, while
the “horse thieves,” upon their horses, and armed and equipped for
fight, with the enemy in front, had to swim a boisterous river, covered
with large drifts of trees, a feat almost as difficult and far more
dangerous than crossing a river in boats, amid the ice.
On the evening of the second day of July our forces—twenty-two hundred
strong—had safely, with two exceptions, reached the bank north of the
river at three crossings near Burksville. The Fourteenth, meanwhile, had
all crossed, and gone to the front in the direction of Glasgow,
Kentucky.
You will notice that so far I have, intentionally, omitted to mention
the loss of men. Not that I do not remember, but because it would be a
sorrowful task, and a subject too sacredly sad for me to handle, since
many of them were my intimate friends and loved companions, and doubly
endeared to me on my finding them in the same line of battle with
myself.
Early in the morning of the second we were withdrawn from the Glasgow
road, and passed through Burksville on the road to Columbia, taking
charge of our front in that direction. As our column was passing through
town General Morgan detained about twenty members of Company B for
special duty. All of the members of the company were eager and anxious
to go with their General, but he only had use for the twenty. Soon after
the regiment left town, and the now “gay twenty,” with the General in
front, cantered out on the Glasgow road, on which the enemy had been
found in force a few miles from the river, with the object of making a
feint in our favor.
Our true line of march was via Columbia, but we wished to make a
diversion to impress the Yankees with the belief that our march was to
be via Glasgow. Going a few miles, we were met by a Yankee cavalry
regiment, who changed front to rear immediately upon the sight of our
scout, using their rowels with little mercy. Confusion and the twenty
scouts were soon among them, and what the former did not do, the pistols
of the latter accomplished.
The actions of one of the boys strangely and particularly impressed me.
A few days before the regiment that we were so hotly pressing had
captured and killed this scout’s brother. Learning this when pursuing,
he was one of the first among them, firing right and left, oftentimes
when his navy was against “his man,” five of whom felt the effects,
while the tears were streaming down his cheeks. I could not help
thinking, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.”
When the enemy realized the smallness of the force that was chasing
them, they halted in a strong position and showed fight; but our
General, who seemed more like our gallant Captain of old than he had for
some time, was too shrewd for them. Quickly detaching a single scout
around to their left flank secretly, with orders to fire his gun and
navies in rapid succession into their line, proved, much to our
amusement, to have the desired effect. Back they flew again, using their
rowels as vigorously as before. But we were soon in their rear, making
good use of time and pistols. Sabres were useless ornaments in our
service. The trooper that attempted to carry one would be forever after
a laughing stock for the entire command.
All of the twenty were ahead of the General, who was on his favorite
“Glencoe,” with hat in hand, cheering the boys with “Charge them, boys;
charge them!”—and right handsomely did they execute his orders.
Yet, on flew the Yankees, and after them went the twenty, in a dense
cloud of dust, never halting until we had chased the Yankee cavalry
through a brigade of their own infantry then in line of battle and
supported by artillery, which the immense cloud of dust prevented us
from seeing. We charged them so near that they were afraid of opening on
us for fear of doing injury to their own troops.
One of the boys, riding near the General, saw the line first, and caught
the reins of the General’s horse, stopping him instantly. At the same
moment a line of bristling bayonets were pointed out to the General. All
saw it, and quickly wheeling our horses, with spurs in flanks, went out
in true Indian style, lying flat on our horses, perhaps a little under.
When we had cleared the line so they could open fire, and not fire into
their own line, the whole line poured a volley at short range right into
us. But “fortune,” they say, “favors the brave.” Only one man received a
wound, Captain Tom of Company B, whose rein arm was broken, and who was
afterward, much to his regret, left at Burksville. With this exception
we got back to town safely.
At an early hour in the morning of the 3d, we were again in the saddle,
en route to Columbia, Col. R. C. Morgan’s regiment, the Fourteenth, in
advance. This honor the General entrusted to our charge to be kept
untarnished. How well the Fourteenth succeeded had best be told by
others than myself. My object is to tell you “some” of the events that
occurred.
The column passed up the same valley through which we marched the first
of the year on our return after the Christmas raid, when a large number
of horses disappeared, and the General promised the ladies that he would
hang and shoot every one of his scouts, without a court martial, etc.,
for such uncourtly, ungallant, and unsoldierly actions toward “good
Union people.” It afforded the members of Company B much sport as they
rode by these places of interest.
Gaining the upland, the command halted long enough for the regimental
commanders to read “special orders,” which were to govern the troops
during the march.
The advance moved on to Columbia about noon, where we found a squadron
of the First Kentucky Yankee Cavalry in possession of the town. Driving
their pickets in we advanced to the edge of the town, where we rode into
line and dismounted to fight.
In a few moments we were closely engaged with the enemy, commanded by a
Kentuckian, Captain Carter, afterward killed or shot by a member of
Company B. Carter fought his force well, being shielded by the houses;
but as soon as he was wounded they retreated. He, with other wounded,
fell in our hands. As only a brave man can do, he talked with the
soldier who visited him a few minutes before he died, telling the
Confederate that he was a gallant soldier and that he shot him in
self-defense and while in the service of his country. The gallant
Captain surely met his fate soldierly.
Supplying our wants we left town and marched within two miles of Green
River bridge (not the railroad bridge), which was defended by a regiment
of Yankee infantry inside of a strong stockade. Placing our picket out,
we encamped for the night.
The next morning, the Fourth of July, by some error of the A. A. G., two
regiments were put in advance of the Fourteenth, and by a further
misconstruction of orders they advanced against the stockade, which on
this side of the river was impregnable, and there were obstacles of
every description to impede a charge. Nevertheless, our troops hurled
themselves against it with great gallantry and fought desperately until
the General had them withdrawn. The troops were cut up badly, and many
of our “best and bravest” fell in this engagement, among them being
Colonel Shenault of the Seventh Kentucky, Major Brent of the Sixth,
First Lieut. Chas. Kirtley of the Thirteenth Kentucky, commanding his
company at the time, and many other gallant men and officers.
I cannot say who was the author of this movement, which was not a
skilful move certainly, for we had to flank it finally to gain the pike
beyond. By using our artillery on the opposite side they could have been
shelled into submission, beyond reach of their rifles.
The brigade halted to feed at Campbellsville. Mounting again at dark, we
did not halt until in front of Lebanon, about three o’clock in the
morning. At daylight we advanced on the force garrisoning the town,
which was the Twentieth Kentucky Yankee Infantry under Col. Chas.
Hanson, a brother of the colonel of the Second Kentucky Infantry,
afterward a general in our service, killed at Murfreesboro.
The garrison, as we advanced into town, had posted themselves in brick
houses, depot buildings, and churches. But forming our line in a circle
enclosing the town we moved to the attack. A street fight is one of the
most desperate modes of warfare known to a soldier. The advantage is
strongly against the storming party.
The Fourteenth charged mounted to within seventy-five yards of the
railroad depot, and dismounted under the most deadly fire that we ever
saw. The artillery took position on our right, opening on the depot in
dead earnest. At every report the boys would cheer, the building
tumbling at every discharge. Before the General commenced the assault he
sent in a flag of truce to Colonel Hanson, demanding an immediate
surrender; but if he would not consent, a limited time would be allowed
to him to remove all non-combatants. He would not permit the inhabitants
to leave, however, thinking they might prove to be a protection to his
force, as we would probably not cannonade the town while the women and
children remained. In that the Colonel was badly mistaken. His troops
numbered about six hundred, and all fought desperately to keep the boys
out of the houses. But the cavalry would go up and in. Some of our
troops would frequently run their guns and pistols through the windows
and fire, while others would storm the doors and gain their entrance.
The fight was raging terribly when Thos. H. Morgan, first lieutenant of
Company I, Duke’s regiment, a brother of the General, while acting
aide-de-camp and gallantly bearing orders, was shot through the head,
causing his instant death. This happened in sight of the General, who
became so enraged at such inhuman fighting that he sent his aides flying
with orders to burn and destroy, which soon brought our brutal foe to a
sense of feeling.
The whole town was quickly in a blaze and getting disagreeably hot. The
engagement had lasted from morning until noon, and but for the burning
would have lasted longer, at a great sacrifice of life. The white flag
appeared in many places at the same time. Before it was discovered or
acknowledged they were nearly “rare done.” Everything but hot stoves
suffered that day. The troopers, not without cause, were much enraged,
and they could scarcely be controlled by their officers.
During the taking of Lebanon two Yankee regiments were within two miles
of the town, but would not and did not come to the rescue. The officer
in command was afterward relieved for his timid and cowardly action. It
was proven that he was half a day marching seven miles.
When the General was ready to march he privately detached a piece of
artillery out of town, in charge of an officer, with instructions to
shell the town. The order to mount had been given, but the boys fell
slowly into line. However, the explosion of the first shell was
sufficient to place all in line, ready for marching, as the General
expected.
We moved out on the Springfield road, arriving at that place before
night, with the prisoners, who were paroled. The advance halted to feed
six miles beyond the town, on the road to Bardstown. The brigade stopped
nearer the town. One of the officers of Company B was killed at Lebanon,
another captured while en route to Bardstown the night we left
Springfield, so that when the advance reached Bardstown I was the only
officer in Company B, in which there were seventy-five men, which kept
me pretty active during the trip.
The night’s march to Bardstown was one of the darkest we ever
experienced. It was impossible to see even your fellow-soldier in the
same set riding by your side. We halted near but not in sight of the
city, and conferred with Captain Sheldon of Company C, Second Kentucky
Cavalry, who had been the morning previous detached on a scouting
expedition in the vicinity of Bardstown.
After meeting and skirmishing with, chasing, and being chased by a
detachment of the regular Yankee cavalry, he had eluded and followed
them, without their knowledge, into town, where, finding them quartered
in a livery stable, he formed his line around, and barricaded the
streets and alleys so strongly and successfully that they could not get
out except at great sacrifice. Under Captain Sheldon’s guidance Colonel
Morgan dismounted his regiment to go to the relief of Company C,
supporting him until morning, when an immediate surrender was asked. The
Major commanding, however, refused to comply.
The brigade having arrived about daylight, a piece of ordnance was
brought to bear upon the stable, the “expression” of which appeared so
ferocious that the Major submitted and hung out his white flag without
further hesitation. The Major, a lieutenant, and fifty men surrendered,
with as many horses, splendidly equipped.
Feeding and breakfasting, we were soon moving for the “Lew” and
Nashville Railroad south of Shepherdstown, and not more than twenty
miles distant from Louisville. The head of the column reached the
railroad about the hour that the evening passenger train north was due.
The General, who was riding with the advance, sent Company A of the
Fourteenth to the road on our left to obstruct the cars after they
passed. Company B was ordered to intercept them in front.
We had just arrived at the crossing when the train hove in sight. Quick
as thought the General had one of Burns’s field pieces upon the track,
and sent its contents booming down the track, checking the train, and
almost instantly the engineer commenced reversing his engine. But
Company B, which was rapidly advancing, put a stop to its wild career.
The guard on the train, consisting of thirty or forty infantry,
contested their ground stubbornly. Getting out on the opposite side from
us, they used the train for breastworks. But, to use a soldier’s term,
“we went for them,” dislodging and driving them into the woods.
After ordering the driver to move his engine up to the crossing, Company
B, already formed, escorted her to the General’s presence.
Her passengers were principally Yankee officers, field and staff, from
whom I fell heir to several useful articles—without their consent, I
imagine, if their faces were a true index to their feelings. Nor could I
blame them much, for the cavalry boots, No. 6, were splendid, the navies
handsome, and the swords and rigging rich and beautiful. Besides all of
these, the boys appropriated some valuable property, such as gold and
silver watches, meerschaum pipes, greenbacks and specie, etc. The U. S.
mail numbered over a hundred sacks, which were turned over to the
brigade A. Q. M., with the exception of a few sacks the boys reserved
for their own use. The General let all the passengers retain their
effects, save the military, and without injury, and ordered the train to
return to Elizabethtown.
Burning a stockade and bridge, we continued our march until three
o’clock and then encamped until morning. Late as it was, the boys built
small fires to open and examine their mail by.
Hardly a moment elapsed, “day or dreaming night,” but what we were
capturing the enemy’s forces, sometimes in small and often in large
numbers. At daylight on the morning of the 7th we were found in the
saddle en route to Brandenburg on the Ohio River, and forty or fifty
miles below Louisville, Kentucky.
The advance, after a few exciting adventures, marched into the above
place just after dark, and found two steamers lying at the wharf, which
Capt. Sam. B. Taylor, of the Tenth, who had been sent on that service
early in the day, had captured without much difficulty. The steamboat
_Alice Dean_ was taken while lying at the landing, and soon afterward
the steamboat _General Combs_ appeared in view, coming up the river.
Captain Taylor, commanding the _Alice Dean_, went out to meet and escort
the _General_ into the wharf, very much to the astonishment of the
captain and the passengers.
I could mention, and yet it will be omitted, much that happened during
the night and the next morning, or rather the next day, which was spent
crossing over “Jordan” into the “Promised Land.”
Upon our arrival we dismounted to form line on the beach until the
brigade came up. We then returned to our horses to feed them and to
steal a little nod, if such were possible. Some of the boys gave
champagne parties that night in the meadow, which doubtless was taken
from the stores of one of the steamers; as also were a few other
luxuries that had so mysteriously come into their possession. After
satisfying their unnatural appetites all took a sly snooze, dreaming of
home and of the fair fields beyond the waters.
Tired nature must have its requisite amount of rest; it may be overtaxed
for a long time, but sooner or later exhaustion will come, when the
body, in spite of all we can do otherwise, will repose. Many have been
the times when I would have given worlds, if I possessed them, to lie
down in a fence corner with permission to sleep a few hours. But the
enemy was in front, and the watchword was “forward, march.” After
crossing the Ohio we never halted except to feed, to fight, and to
destroy U. S. property.
Our balmy slumbers were very easily disturbed by an explosion of a shell
in our midst, thrown from a piece on the Hoosier State side. Burns’s
battery returned the fire, and at the second shot dismounted the Yankee
gun, a splendid rifled cannon, that afterward fell into our possession.
It occupied the entire day of the 8th to effect the crossing, there
being many interruptions. Four or five gun-boats tried hard to intercept
us, but our rifle field-pieces of longer range kept them at arm’s
length, and finally compelled them to take shelter behind a point in the
river.
Several U. S. transports, loaded with troops, had accompanied the
gun-boats down from Louisville, and partly disembarked them on the
Indiana side. But Duke’s and Ward’s regiments, who had first crossed,
were on hand to receive them, and drove them pell mell on the boats
again, which steamed up the river hurriedly beyond their reach. The
_General Combs_ and _Alice Dean_ ferried all over safely by sunset. One
of them, the latter I think, was a U. S. transport. She was set on fire
and burnt up. A poor reward for her gallant and faithful service. The
_General Combs_, being private property, was liberated with many thanks
for her efficient services.
The command that night, which was intensely dark, marched on Corydon. We
appeared before Corydon early in the morning of the 9th. The advance,
then in command of Captain Hines, moved upon the enemy in front, met
their outpost, a company of cavalry, and on exchanging a few shots drove
them back into town. Hines’ company was the first and Company B the next
in order for that day’s march; therefore, when his company engaged the
enemy, Company B supported him. Regiments when marching have it so
arranged that each company has its respective days for marching at the
head of the column, it being easier to march at the front than at the
rear of a column, and thus they change alternately.
While the advance was passing a farmhouse the proprietor was suddenly
seized with a patriotic feeling, and taking down his old fusee
deliberately fired into our line, killing one of Hines’s men. This
enraged the boys, and one of them, who had been riding by the side of
the one killed, threw himself from his horse, cleared the enclosure at a
bound, and with a chunk of fire from out of the house, set it on fire,
leaving the patriotic gentleman in the second story to take care of
himself.
I know you have heard many wonderful stories about our burning private
property on that raid. If any other than this house was burnt, I am not
aware of it. All other property that I saw burning was U. S. Government
property, and that we considered our sacred duty to destroy whenever and
wherever we found it, especially if we did not have transportation for
it.
When almost in sight of town we turned off of the main approach upon a
side road, leading to the right and the rear of the town, with the
intention of flanking and getting in the enemy’s rear, while the brigade
assaulted in front.
We had not proceeded more than one-half mile when we noticed three women
standing in a yard in front of a house, crying bitterly and wringing
their hands as though their hearts would break. The column passed
silently and respectfully, but the silence lasted only until they had
passed the house, then you might have heard them saying to each other,
“Look out, boys, the Yankees are near,” and soon all were closely
inspecting their arms, capping their Enfields, and arranging navies so
as to be speedily handled. Those women, by their tears, informed us in a
simple, but reliable, way that the enemy was close by. Soldiers do not
know a truer sign. Anticipation of a battle and the anxiety concerning
the safety of some loved one caused those tears to flow. This we well
knew by actual experience and observation.
So it happened. We had gone scarce two hundred yards before our line
received a terrific and well directed volley from nearly three hundred
stands of arms, wounding and killing twelve of our column.
In an instant the line was dismounted, and forwarding quickly into a
line of battle charged them with a yell and with great determination,
driving them with no little loss from their ambuscade, with little loss
to ourselves.
While pursuing them hotly, to within a short distance of the road in the
rear of the town, our foe unexpectedly ran into the Third Kentucky, who
had flanked the town on the left, and to them they surrendered without
conditions. But until the white flag was hoisted we never ceased firing,
neither could the Third resist the temptation of giving a broadside to
bring them to a stand. The prisoners were taken into town by the Third.
We advanced out the Albany road, and it was not long before we
discovered a squad of Yankees, although we remained unnoticed by them.
Company B received orders to attack them. By advancing to the brow of
the hill we concealed ourselves behind a fence until the enemy ascended
quite near, then rising and firing my navy, that being the signal for B
to open fire, we poured such a hot fire into them that it caused a
stampede unrivaled in war, which I shall never forget if I should live
for a thousand years. I will wager that “Harrison County Home Guards”
can beat the world running, get them frightened or panic stricken.
Mounting our horses again we marched till we arrived at the forks of the
road, four miles from town, where Hines concealed his force, except
Company B, in an orchard behind a thick hedge. He then ordered my
company to take post in a large log stable, immediately within the fork,
with instructions to invite all passersby in, as they arrived.
Upon concealing my men I took position alongside of the road, and as the
Yankees came by in twos, fours, and up to companies, hurrying to Corydon
to reinforce Colonel Jordan, the commandant, I would step out, as a
representative of the “Home Guards,” and take them in charge, or rather
in the stable, disarm them gently, and send them under guard to Captain
Hines.
This deception was successfully carried on till the firing in town had
ceased, when we started to the town with over one hundred prisoners,
which, as we confidently supposed, was in the possession of our men.
Turning our prisoners over to the provost guard, who had nearly seven
hundred to parole, we were soon on the road to Salem, Colonel Dick
commanding.
As we advanced every mile had to be strongly contested for. Militia,
home guards, and regular troops were on every hill top, bushwhackers and
armed citizens behind every tree, and hardly a moment elapsed but you
could hear the Minie’s sharp report. Everything was in an uproar.
Families deserted their dwellings to hide in the woods. Yet nothing
stopped us. On we galloped, driving all obstructions from our front,
entering the town of Salem some time before night, and capturing nearly
five hundred regular soldiers, militia, home guards, bushwhackers, and
fighting citizens. It would be difficult to say which was best
represented.
When the men had been supplied with a variety of necessaries, such as
boots, hats, etc., the advance left Salem, the county-seat of Washington
County, and moved out on the road to Lexington, the county-seat of Scott
County. We stopped at a little village, four miles from Salem, to feed
and rest our wearied horses, and to get something refreshing for
ourselves. The main force halted long enough in Salem to feed, and
destroy all military supplies, together with the large depot buildings.
During our stay in the little burg some of the boys went into a Dutch
shoe shop and purchased a number of pairs of home-made boots, paying for
them in Confederate funds. While a portion were buying, others were
securing suitable pairs without the Dutch woman’s knowledge, who was the
acting saleswoman. She at last detected them in the act of shoplifting,
and such a cry arose as never was heard before—the most distressing and
heartbreaking cries that mortal ever gave vent to. Our commander, on
hearing the uproar, and thinking a murder was being committed, came
double-quick to the scene of action to ascertain the cause of the sudden
alarm. On his learning what the difficulty was he attempted to pacify
the Dutch woman by settling the amount in current funds. But with no
success. She would not listen to anything; she was “forever ruined.” It
was one of the most laughable scenes associated with the raid, and one
the actors will long remember.
As soon as our steeds were a little refreshed we mounted and pressed on
to Lexington, followed closely by the brigade. As we moved forward there
was nothing but a succession of charges. It seemed the entire population
was in arms, behind every bush the enemy was to be found. Shots flew
thick and fast. Dogs howled, horses neighed, cattle lowed, and every
living creature was sending forth some distressful and pitiful noise.
Still on we galloped, very often hotly chasing detachments of the enemy
and riding them down without a sigh of regret. When within seven or
eight miles of the Jeffersonville and Indianapolis Railroad we commenced
descending from the hills into the valley, meeting parties of from ten
to fifty citizens with axes on their way to the highlands to obstruct
our line of march by blockading the road with trees. Such orders had
been telegraphed to them by Governor Morton, which news “Lightning” had
previously intercepted, and was one reason for our rapid marching. The
poor citizens suffered that day in mind, and also, I expect, in pocket,
their new axes being sadly treated, so much so that I doubt if they ever
found the edge again. We got the edge off them without any difficulty.
Company B formed the head of the column on this day, and when within six
miles of the railroad was detached with orders to hasten to Vienna.
Putting spurs to our steeds we passed the videttes at a brisk canter. En
route we met several parties of wood choppers, hurrying to the
blockading-ground.
Passing Company B off as Washington County Home Guards, we urged them
forward by telling them that Morgan had passed through Salem. In a very
few moments we had charged into Vienna, accompanied by our operator. We
found all the inhabitants in the streets at two hundred yards distance.
This looked suspicious, for many of them were in Yankee uniforms, which
signified to us that it was a solid line of battle. But this was no time
to hesitate. Our instructions were to take the town, and into town we
went, pell mell, feeling very much like a man who expected to be shot
at; but we were agreeably disappointed, as it happened. There were many
soldiers, but all unarmed.
The women were soon crying, begging, and imploring us to spare their
children. The boys heard this with amazement, and asked the women if
they thought we were barbarians that they should think we could hurt
women and children. The men assured them that not a hair of their heads
would be injured, nor would they wound their feelings in any way.
Quieting them as best we could, we ordered all in their houses excepting
the men. These a sergeant with a guard took charge of.
Another sergeant was sent after the U. S. operator, who was found at the
house by the side of his Dulcinea, little dreaming that Morgan’s men had
possession of his office. When Sergeant T. inquired for him he arose,
saying he was the gentleman asked for. The sergeant informed him that he
had business for him to attend to in his office. On their walk down to
the depot he eyed the sergeant closely. The sergeant noticed this, and
asked him if he did not think he knew him. He replied, “I am not sure,
but I think you are one of Morgan’s men.”
He was quite certain of that fact a little later, after he had been
turned over to “Rebel Lightning,” who had some trouble in getting the
necessary signal known to the operators. But on seeing a navy pistol
presented he was more communicative.
On “Lightning” receiving the necessary news a courier was dispatched
post haste to the General, and soon after another. The track was also
destroyed on both sides of the town, and when the General arrived all
orders had been executed, destroying what U. S. stores had been found
there, and burning the depot and railroad bridges.
The command moved on to Lexington that night, where, arriving about
midnight, we fed and rested until morning. The “home protection”
stationed there left on our approach.
At an early hour the next morning several companies of the enemy’s
forces marched into town, without knowing who was there. None of our
troops was in the town at the time, but General Morgan, with a small
bodyguard, the rest of his men being encamped near by feeding. Both
parties were struck with surprise, and for some moments all was
confusion. However, the General did not long hesitate before he sent a
courier to us to come to his assistance.
Mounting our horses we soon galloped to his relief, though too late to
have a tilt with the Northmen, for before we could report they had
suddenly disappeared. With such an opportunity, what simpletons they
were not to attempt a capture and perhaps be able to carry off our
General. Had they been men of nerve they might have accomplished that
which would have secured them a brilliant place in Yankee history. Yet
they lacked the pluck.
Receiving our instructions the Fourteenth moved off in the direction of
Vernon, the county-seat of Jennings County, through which runs the Ohio
and Mississippi Railroad, and also a railroad running from Columbus, a
point on the Jeffersonville and Indianapolis Railroad, to Madison on the
Ohio.
Vernon was reached in the afternoon, where a large force had collected.
We deeply impressed them with the idea that we intended to give them
battle, but this was only done to draw their attention from certain
military supplies, railroad and railroad bridges, the depot, etc., that
we designed destroying.
We then continued our march to Versailles, making sad havoc with all
railroads and public property, and at the same time our detachments were
operating on each flank, by which the Yankees were deceived as to our
whereabouts, reporting us very often at as many as twenty towns almost
at once. When we reached Versailles the inhabitants made a grand mistake
in taking us for Federal soldiers, and not until we were leaving did
they learn that we were Rebels. One old lady declared she knew it, had
known it all the time. But I am afraid not, if I am to be guided by her
actions and from the bountiful way she provided our men with such a
variety of nice edibles.
One mile from town a force in ambush fired on the advance, and then ran,
we after them full-tilt, giving them fits every jump until the road was
entirely clear.
The many towns between Versailles and Hamilton, Ohio, could not be
mentioned under several pages, and besides I cannot call them all to
mind. Yet I do remember that every town, day, and hour had its stirring
adventures. The command was almost worn out, and dead for want of sleep
and rest. Yet on and on we marched. Soon Hamilton, Big Miami River, the
canal and railroad were in sight, and while descending the hill a
magnificent view was before us. The valley beyond possessed a great
variety of beautiful scenery; the town itself was very handsome and
beautiful; and the canal, river, and railroad gave the finishing touch
to as grand a picture as nature affords. We remained but a short time in
Hamilton, yet long enough to exchange some of our wearied horses for
some fresher ones. Then passing through we halted to feed beyond the
city limits.
Soon the column was moving, and during the night’s march passed within
seven miles of the Queen City, where a detachment, previously
instructed, drove their outpost in, causing unbounded excitement in
“Porkopolis.” It was without doubt the darkest of all nights. The troops
were almost exhausted for want of sleep. Many of them during the night,
while asleep, wandered off on some of the many side roads,
notwithstanding the officers’ vigilance to keep all awake by riding from
the head of their companies to the rear and back again, and constantly
urging them, if they loved their country’s cause, to keep each other
awake. Oftentimes I have seen on that raid both man and horse nodding
together, and at such times the horse staggering like one intoxicated.
The Little Miami and railroad to Columbus were crossed before the day
appeared.
During the next day Camp Dennison was threatened but not attacked.
Several hundred wagons were found near by and burnt, as well as a large
quantity of other stores. With the advance Company B was again the
first, and early in the morning was detached to cut the railroad.
On reaching the scene of operations a detail was advanced toward
Dennison, who met the enemy’s outpost near a bridge, and, after a sharp
and well-fought skirmish, drove the Yankees away, capturing several of
their horses fully equipped.
We had scarcely time to put two large ties into a cattle gap like the
letter X and to cut the telegraph wire, before we saw a train of
passenger cars coming like a whirlwind around a curve. They certainly
had seen our main column and were trying to get away. At the first
intimation of her approach we disappeared into a cornfield immediately
alongside. The train shot past like a blazing meteor, and the next thing
we saw was a dense cloud of steam above which flew large timbers. Our
next sight startled our nerves, for there lay the monster floundering in
the field like a fish out of water, with nothing but the tender
attached. Her coupling must have broken, for the passenger carriages and
express were still on the track, several yards ahead. Over three hundred
raw recruits were on board, bound for Camp Dennison. They came tumbling
and rolling out in every way imaginable.
Company B was in line ready for action, when we discovered they were
unarmed, except for a few having side-arms. All submitted without a
single shot, and were sent under guard to the General.
Examining and closely inspecting the prize, orders were received to set
her on fire. Just before leaving a locomotive came down from Dennison to
see what had caused the train’s delay; but when the engineer discovered
our men galloping to his rear to intercept his retreat, he put his
engine back at her utmost speed and escaped capture.
There were but two persons hurt at the above break up, and they were the
engineer and the fireman. The former was a little scalded and the latter
had a bone fractured. Permission was given to several of his friends to
carry him to the nearest house and liberty granted them to take care of
him.
Soon we were again at the head of the advance, after an hour’s absence,
perhaps. Our main force passed to the left of Georgetown several miles,
but the advance, according to instructions, made a flank march and went
to the county-seat of Brown County, where we halted to dine, feed, and
see the “Lion.” We overtook the command at ten o’clock that night and
took our position in front.
The next day we crossed the canal leading from Portsmouth to Cleveland,
and the Scioto River, marching through Jackson about midday, dispersing
a large force of Ohio militia who were guarding the railroad to Ironton
and burning depot buildings, railroad and other property belonging to
the so-called “Uncle Sam.”
At four in the evening we entered the town of Chester in Meigs County,
after great difficulty. Every bridge had been destroyed in our front,
and at every pass and ravine the road was blockaded and defended by
troops in concealment, but we never failed to dislodge and drive them
confusedly away. A large number of “blockaders” were captured and,
accompanied by a guard, were compelled to clear away the obstructions
that many of them had assisted in making. Poor fellows, they felt their
time had come, so badly were they frightened. They would no more halt
when we were after them than they could fly. Oftentimes the boys would
dismount and go in pursuit of these bushwhackers and command them to
halt, but on they ran, like some one that had escaped from the deaf and
dumb asylum, never stopping until the boys laid violent hands upon them,
holding them fast by main force. Even then they would strive hard to get
away, just as some wild animals would do. At times it was difficult to
keep the boys from shooting them down for such actions.
Halting in Chester for the arrival of the General and forces, we had a
delightful time, certain delicacies having been prepared by the ladies
for their gallant and patriotic defenders.
On General Morgan’s arrival we moved on to the river at a double quick,
never reining our horses until dark, and then we were on the bank of the
Ohio. We soon captured the picket of the forces guarding the ford, which
consisted of three hundred militia from Marietta, with three
field-pieces, and though strongly entrenched they left the country as
soon as they heard of our arrival, leaving their guns in our charge.
Our brigade and artillery did not come up until midnight. It was then
extremely dark and foggy, and knowing that we undoubtedly would have to
swim a part of the way, at least, across the river, and that it would be
extremely difficult to get our battery over it, it was thought advisable
to delay until daylight and fair play. I am now confident that had we
attempted it very many of our men would have been drowned. Every one was
broken down with fatigue, and thus the delay.
Twice during the night I was ordered with twenty of Company B to cross
the river in search of flatboats, but failed to secure any. If we had
not been under orders, how easily we could have escaped the coming
disaster, and yet we never suspected that such would be our fate.
When daylight appeared couriers from every part of the field were seen
flying to headquarters. One reported that the rear was attacked, the
next our right, and another, our left, and soon the engagement was
general and hotly contested. Duke, with two regiments, drove General
Judah’s forces back, but being struck in the flank by another force, he
retreated. The enemy, so much our superior in numbers, we being reduced
to not more than fifteen hundred, if that, had all the advantages,
assisted by small gun-boats that had succeeded in getting above the
shoals by a rise in the river. Several Yankee officers informed me
afterward that over sixty thousand regular troops, not mentioning
militia, home guards, bushwhackers, and armed citizens, were opposed to
us on that day. However, until noon, we lost little of our position; but
it was very evident that we would have to yield finally, or run for it.
Seeing this, the General knew he would have to sacrifice a part of his
force to save the other. While a portion was holding the Yankees in
check, under a terrible fire of shot and shell, our General made his
escape up the river with the remainder. And for the first time a white
flag, the sign of surrender, was seen in charge of an officer going to
the enemy’s lines.
On sight of the flag the old scouts begged me to lead them out; but this
I could not do, except by the permission of my superior officer, and
when I asked the Colonel he refused me that liberty, saying it would be
impossible or at a great sacrifice of men. I replied on behalf of the
scouts that all were ready and willing to run that risk, particularly
when imprisonment with all its horrors was staring us in the face.
Still, the Colonel would not consent. Had we attempted without his will,
and succeeded in cutting our way out, and he been captured, it would
have been called a glorious deed. On the other hand, if he had, through
some mysterious way, been extricated, our leaving without orders of our
superior would have been branded as desertion. But the fight was over,
and we prisoners of war.
I will not continue my sketch further. You are well posted as to events
which have transpired since the 19th day of July, 1863, the day of our
capture. I have written only a very limited account of what happened,
and in a humble way; but if it pleases as well as interests her for whom
it was designed, I will be richly and amply rewarded for this feeble
struggle.
I will say in conclusion, my dear sister, that this unadorned outline
was written and intended for your eyes alone, free from comment, for the
memory of comrades gone is sacredly dear.
Very affectionately yours,
FRANK.
N. B.—Not being with General Morgan after the 19th of July, it would be
impossible to relate his further adventures.
FRANK.
Completed December 23d, 1865,
expressly
for a
Christmas Present.