[Illustration:
_COLONEL OLIVER H. PAYNE._
]
THE
Campaigns of the 124th Regiment
OHIO VOLUNTEER INFANTRY,
WITH
ROSTER AND ROLL OF HONOR.
BY
G. W. LEWIS,
MEDINA, O.
* * *
MANUFACTURED BY
THE WERNER COMPANY,
AKRON, O.
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
_LIEUTENANT COLONEL JAMES PICKANDS._
]
DEDICATION.
_TO all the noble men of the One Hundred and Twenty-Fourth Regiment,
Ohio Volunteer Infantry, living, and to the memory of those dead, who
counted as nothing all of sorrows, dangers, marches, battles, wounds and
death, that our common country might not perish, and that liberty might
be proclaimed to all the inhabitants thereof, this unworthy record of
their glorious deeds is dedicated by the_
_AUTHOR_.
[Illustration:
_MAJOR JAMES B. HAMPSON._
]
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION, 7
FROM CLEVELAND, OHIO, TO MANCHESTER, TENN., 11
SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF THE CAMPAIGN OF CHATTANOOGA, AND THE BATTLE 35
OF CHICKAMAUGA,
THE SIEGE OF CHATTANOOGA, THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN, AND THE 77
STORMING OF MISSIONARY RIDGE,
THE EAST TENNESSEE CAMPAIGN, AND THE MARCH FROM CHATTANOOGA TO 107
KNOXVILLE,
THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN, 133
FROM ATLANTA TO NASHVILLE, 179
ROSTER.
FIELD AND STAFF, 217
COMPANY A, 219
COMPANY B, 225
COMPANY C, 230
COMPANY D, 237
COMPANY E, 244
COMPANY F, 249
COMPANY G, 254
COMPANY H, 258
COMPANY I, 264
COMPANY K, 269
UNASSIGNED RECRUITS, 273
ROLL OF HONOR, 275
[Illustration:
_SURGEON JAMES W. SMITH._
]
INTRODUCTION.
The campaigns of the One Hundred and Twenty-fourth Regiment, Ohio
Volunteer Infantry, if written at all, should have been written nearer
the close of the war, while the stirring scenes and events of those
years of daring, duty and glory were vivid in the mind of the writer.
The "Campaigns" should have been written by one that had intended to
write them from the first, and had made such due and proper preparation
during the time the same were going forward as would enable him to
collect the necessary data for a correct and valuable history of the
men, the companies and the regiment as an entirety. The "Campaigns"
should have been written by one that had as full knowledge of the entire
regiment as the author of these imperfect sketches had of the company he
commanded during the service. Some of these campaigns were written for
the purpose of preserving the events therein narrated, and by
solicitation were delivered before the "permanent organization" of the
regiment at its annual reunions, held from time to time, in the vicinity
where the regiment was organized. Some, by mere chance, were published
in the soldier papers of the country, and copied into others; but not
until very recently did their author contemplate putting them into their
present form, and only after a very strong desire had been expressed by
the regiment, at one of its reunions, that some attempt should be made
to preserve the deeds of the heroic men, living and dead, that composed
one of the truest and best regiments that ever marched beneath the
colors of the republic, did the author determine to undertake the work
that is now consummated.
It is the opinion of the author, in putting this book into the hands of
those who did so much to make the history it seeks to perpetuate, that
the most striking thing about it is its imperfections, its inaccuracies.
And this, to a certain extent, needs be so, as the events it
commemorates were written, almost altogether, from memory, and that
after more than twenty-five years after the facts narrated took place;
and many a time, while recalling those marches, battles and sufferings
of those brave men that struggled "to keep the flag in the sky during
all those dark years," it occurred to the author—could he only have the
memory of each of the survivors of that grand body of men, how much more
complete, accurate and interesting his work would be to them for the
perusal of whom it is intended. And again, the experiences of a modest,
but quite busy, professional career, for many years, has taught the
author that the same event is never seen by all alike, never remembered
by all alike, and could not be written by all alike, though all were
equally desirous to tell nothing but the truth.
In these "Campaigns" there has been no desire to gloss over the mistakes
and imperfections of the actors of the greatest drama that was ever
enacted in the world's history; but in the criticism of them the author
has had continually in mind the fact that, generally, all was done with
the best endeavor, with a purpose and patriotism that has not a parallel
in history. And sometimes it seems to be better to note a few faults,
that the work may seem real, not fabulous; that we write of men, not of
angels.
It was the original purpose to present engravings from portraits of the
field and staff, the original captains of the companies and some others,
but too much time had run to carry out, entirely, this design. We could
not publish engravings of each member of the regiment, though we are
aware that nearly all are worthy of such honor, and we thought to be
content with publishing engravings of the representative men of the
regiment, but in this we have succeeded only in part.
The "Roster and Roll of Honor" attached to the "Campaigns" is the one
published by the direction and authority of the State of Ohio. It is far
from being perfect, but the best that could be furnished, under all the
circumstances, and is worth a great deal more to each member of the
regiment in the form presented herein, than it is as published by the
authority of the state.
And now we say, go, thou little imperfect production, into the hands and
homes of those with whom we served, suffered, and still love. If this
poor souvenir of so good a service, and so many and great sacrifices,
revives the memories and stirs those brave hearts to whose services no
pen and no tongue can do justice, our desires are accomplished.
G. W. LEWIS,
Major 124th Regiment, O. V. I.
_Medina, O., February 17, 1894._
[Illustration:
_SURGEON DEWITT C. PATTERSON._
]
The Campaigns of the 124th Regiment,
OHIO VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.
FROM CLEVELAND, OHIO, TO MANCHESTER, TENN.
The One Hundred and Twenty-fourth Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry, was
born of the great impulse of patriotism that swept over the country in
the latter part of the summer of 1862, occasioned by the necessity for
the "300,000 more" to put down the slaveholder's rebellion. The greater
part of the regiment volunteered without the aid of a recruiting
officer. Company A was raised in Cuyahoga county, and the patriotic and
earnest William Wilson, afterwards its captain, seconded by that most
enthusiastic of men, Cleveland Van Dorn, afterwards captain of Company
D, were the leading spirits around which the brave men, that afterwards
were mustered into the service of the United States as Co. A, 124th O.
V. I., gathered, and became in fact what they were by letter, the first
of the regiment. Company A was organized with the intention of becoming
a part of the 103d O. V. I., but on going into camp, Captain Wilson
found that regiment already full, and finally determined to join his
fortunes, and that of his noble men, with those of the 124th O. V. I.,
to which regiment Oliver H. Payne had been commissioned as lieutenant
colonel, and James Pickands, formerly of the 1st O. V. I., as major.
Company B was organized, almost exclusively, from the young men of the
western townships of Medina county. Spencer township furnished the
greater number, some forty enlisting from that township in one day,
August 12th. Litchfield township furnished a goodly number, while Homer,
Harrisville, Chatham, La Fayette helped to swell the ranks, while a few
came from Wayne, some from Lorain, and later the youngest member, John
M. Bowman, was consigned by his patriotic mother, residing in Cleveland,
to the care of Company B. This company, or rather body of men, was sent
into Camp Cleveland by order of the Military Committee of Medina county,
composed of Judge Samuel Humphreville, John B. Young, Esq., and Mr. John
Rounds. This body of men, by the intercessions of the committee with
Governor Todd, was suffered to elect its commissioned officers, and, as
the result, George W. Lewis was chosen captain, John Raidaie, first
lieutenant, and Charles M. Stedman, second lieutenant. When this company
came to be mustered into the service of the United States, it had so
many men that a number of them had to be mustered in other companies,
and were afterwards transferred back to the company in which they had
enlisted. This was also the experience of Company A.
Company C was mostly raised in Cuyahoga, and Robert Wallace, afterwards
its captain, and John O'Brien, afterwards its second lieutenant, seemed
to be the nucleus around which the good men of Company C appeared to
form. Many of them were from the "Emerald Isle," and proved their honor
and daring on many hard fought fields of the campaigns of the regiment
in after days.
Company E came in from Lorain county, and John W. Bullock was made its
captain. But time and space forbid a more extended notice of the
different parts of an organization that was first-class, singly, or as a
whole, more than to say that Company D was brought into camp by Captain
George W. Aumend, the company being raised mostly in Henry county.
Company F was raised from the northern part of the state, and was
commanded by Captain Horace E. Dakin. Company G had many men from
Cincinnati, but was, in fact, recruited from all parts of the state.
Captain William A. Powell was its first captain. Company H was
recruited, mostly, in Cleveland, and its first captain was that
accomplished officer, Eben S. Coe. Company I was largely from
Cincinnati, with the late lamented James H. Frost as its first captain,
while Company K seemed to be a sort of an overflow from almost anywhere.
Hiram H. Manning was its first captain, and he was not mustered as such
until November 10th, 1863. It seemed for a long time to be a sort of
"motherless colt" of the regiment, and fared accordingly, but it never
failed in action, if it did not always have the care a company should
have.
In Camp Cleveland we took our first lesson as soldiers. Here the
"Awkward Squad" might have been seen, at almost all hours of sunlight,
being drilled by one a very little less awkward than themselves. The
"halt," "right-dress," "forward," "steady there," "eyes right," "eyes
left," "right wheel," etc., etc., given in the tones of a Stentor, might
have been heard on the parade grounds of Camp Cleveland, in season and
out of season, during all the fall and early winter of 1862. We were not
well up in the manual of arms here, as I do not remember that we had
muskets for all the men in this camp.
Camp Cleveland, during the time our regiment was there, was a hard place
for the young volunteer. Calls were constantly being made by the
relatives of the volunteers, and visits were constantly being solicited
and made to the old homes, so that, in time, the best officer(?) was the
one that granted the greatest number of "leaves of absence." Under such
circumstances, anything like the discipline necessary to perfect the raw
but patriotic volunteer into the well drilled and efficient soldier was
out of the question, and many a line officer was relieved of a very
heavy burden when January 1st, 1863, came, and our regiment was
furnished transportation toward the seat of war. None of the living
members of the 124th will have forgotten the terrible snowstorm at
Elizabethtown, Ky.
About the first of February, 1863, it seems a large number of regiments
were assembled at and near Louisville, Ky., to be forwarded to augment
the Army of the Cumberland, under the then victorious, and very popular,
General Rosecrans. Our regiment was paid off before we started on that
ever memorable expedition "down the Ohio," and up the Cumberland river
to Nashville, Tenn. Those were the times that tried the souls of the
company commandant. We had never been mustered for pay, and without
anyone, at first, to instruct us, that which afterwards seemed very
simple, was then a mountain of responsibility and worry. The captain
that could not get his muster rolls so they would pass the inspection of
that prince among gentlemen, Paymaster Major John Coon, could not have
his company paid, and anxiety is never a very great auxiliary to the
completion of a new and hard task. But those of us that looked upon this
financial officer in a sense akin to dread, found him a genial
schoolmaster, and he not only instructed us in our duties, but followed
us down the river until the last company of our regiment had received
its pay. The larger share of this money was sent home to wives and
children, and friends (some to creditors) in our own Ohio.
I have often wondered why the government did not march this force, that
was assembled at Louisville, to Nashville. The distance was one hundred
and eighty miles, connected by one of the best macadamized roads in the
country; and could we have been permitted to make the march by easy
stages, we would have been half soldiers by the time we reached
Nashville, and in a condition of health and soldierly prosperity very
much to be desired. But the way we were sent by the old stern-wheelers,
it occupied eleven days to make the trip, with no fire to keep us
comfortable or for cooking our rations, while the nights were spent in
shivering on the cheerless decks of those old wheezy and stinking boats,
which to all appearances had not been cleaned since the carpenters laid
their keels. Many a man was lost to the service of his country from this
method of his transportation, and many a man dates the loss of his
health from those eleven days of suffering and exposure. But whoever
writes of wars must write of mistakes; but we will think that everything
was intended for our good, by those that had the good of the country in
their keeping. The night we approached Nashville, we heard heavy firing
up the river, and found the next morning on coming up to the site of
Fort Donelson, that a portion of Wheeler's command had made an attack
upon the small garrison, and had been repulsed with a very severe loss,
considering the number engaged.
We went ashore and saw the dead confederates lying all about a piece of
artillery, that it seems they had endeavored to take by charging the
same; but the gun manned by the brave Illinoisans that composed the
garrison, made fearful havoc in the ranks of Wheeler. The officer that
lead the charge, Col. Overton, lay dead near the piece, and we were told
he was the same man that owned the estate where we first made our camp
in Tennessee. The killed of the garrison had been gathered under a shed,
and were composed in what seemed to me to be a long row, and as I looked
upon their upturned faces, pallid in death, and ghastly with wounds, I
thought I had already seen enough of war. We returned to our boat, and
steamed slowly up to Nashville. Going from Donelson to Nashville we saw
the river gunboat, Concord. It was claimed that this boat had taken part
in the fight of the day before, and we looked upon it, not only with
curiosity, but with admiration, it being the first specimen of Uncle
Sam's navy that many of us had ever seen. On arriving at the levee at
Nashville, we disembarked, and forming the regiment in column of company
front, with our band playing, and colors flying, we marched through the
principal street of the city. But how different from Cleveland, O. Not a
friendly face greeted us. Hardly a citizen was to be seen on the
streets, and not a salute nor a shout welcomed us to this one of the
most treasonable cities of the confederacy. We now, for the first time,
realized that we were in the land of the rebellion. We moved that
evening out to Overton Heights on the Franklin pike, and went into camp
on the very spot where the same regiment, as veteran soldiers, on the
sixteenth day of December, 1864, scattered the last of Hood's infantry
on the memorable field of Nashville.
In a few days we marched to the village of Franklin, eighteen miles by
the pike from Nashville. This march was a very trying ordeal for us
green soldiers. The most of the men carried luggage enough to overload a
mule, and such knapsacks as the men staggered under in this little
march, would have been a matter of amusement later in the war.
On arriving at Franklin, we went into camp on the north side of the
Harpeth river, that forms the northern boundary of the village, and
commenced soldier life in earnest. This place was occupied as an outpost
of General Van Dorn's division of Bragg's army, but what few rebels were
on duty here did not seem to care to try titles with us. Here, our
major, James B. Hampson, came to us, and being a member of the old
Cleveland Grays, and also having seen service in one of the earlier
regiments of the Ohio troops, was a very valuable acquisition to us in
the way of an instructor. His soldierly bearing and pleasant manner won
all our hearts. He instructed us in the "manual of arms," taught us the
"load in nine times," while in regimental and brigade drill he was a
regular God-send to the ignorant officers of the line, that the most of
us were. Here we had to attend the "school for the officer" and recite
from Casey's Tactics to our young colonel, and many the hour we spent
with him, ere the, to us, at that time, mysterious positions in which a
regiment could be formed were thoroughly mastered. Some of our officers
could learn nothing from books; but for school-teachers, like Captain
Van Dorn, and preachers, like Captain Stratton, it was nothing but fun
to repair to the Colonel's quarters to recite to one that had an earnest
desire to make capable officers of us all. We were now in the presence
of the enemy, and Forrest's cavalry used often to lope up to our pickets
to see what we looked like; and it was no infrequent occurrence for the
dreaded "long-roll" to call us from our slumbers to stand at arms for an
hour on the regimental parade ground. I remember one morning that we
were thus called out, and Company C, under Lieutenant O'Brien, was a
little late in taking its place in the line. Soon we heard it coming on
the double quick, while the "rich Irish brogue" of the lieutenant in
getting his company into line attracted our attention more than any
advance of the enemy that we apprehended (for by this time we had
discovered that this standing at arms was a scheme of old granny Gilbert
to give our hospitals practice); finding his place in the line, in some
way, his last command was, "Sthand fast company _say_, and I'll lay me
bones wid ye."
In the school of the officer, I remember his attempt at recitation that
ran something like this: "The ordly sagint thin advances tin paces,
surrur! nah!—two paces—I don't know, surrur." The big-hearted Irishman,
that did the fine work on the Perry monument, cutting the guard chain of
his watch out of the solid marble, at last learned that he was not
intended for an officer, though brave and patriotic, tendered his
resignation, and that was the last we ever saw or heard of Lieutenant
John O'Brien.
But while instructions in the movements of the company and regiment were
necessary, and we all tried to profit by the same, facility in
recitation did not necessarily make the valuable officer. As an
instance, our Methodist minister, Captain Daniel Stratton, was
Wonderfully fluent at the recitations, and became quite well drilled,
but at our first great battle, Chickamauga, he deserted his company, as
we were coming into the action, _in the face of the enemy_, and was
saved from the fate of his conduct by the great heart of Colonel
Pickands. He said to the colonel, "when I thought of my wife and dear
children at home I could not advance a single step towards the front."
But he advanced pretty well towards the rear, for after two days of
dreadful fighting and the third day in offering battle to an enemy,
nominally victors, but thoroughly whipped (save the magazine writers),
we came to Chattanooga and found our preacher in very comfortable
quarters, with his resignation ready written out, which was accepted by
our regimental commandant. Could our Irish lieutenant have done worse?
The march, the campaign, the skirmish line, the picket duty, the battle,
after all, were the true tests of soldierly qualities. Many a man, many
an officer, arose in our estimation, after we saw him tried in the
ordeal of battle, for whom we entertained but very little respect
before.
At Franklin we had to do picket duty by company out south of the
village, our line running along near the residence of one of the high-
toned families of the town, by the name of Atkinson. At his residence
our reserve post was established, and we posted a guard to protect the
family, which consisted of the old gentleman, quite aged, his wife and a
beautiful daughter, bearing the common but genial name of Sally. There
were two sons, but both were serving in General Frank Cheatham's
division of the rebel army. Sally was quite an expert singer, and played
the piano reasonably well, and, to entertain us, she was kind enough to
sing some of the war songs of the confederacy. I remember pieces of
those songs to this day; one went like this:
"Hurrah, hurrah, for southern rights hurrah,
Hurrah for the bonny blue flag, that bears the single star."
And another:
"No northern flag shall ever wave
O'er southern soil and southern graves,
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land,
In Dixie land we'll take our stand,
And conquer peace for Dixie."
These rebel war songs and others might have been heard floating out on
the soft evening air, near the old locust grove, and no one of the brave
men that did duty there thought any the less of the pert and plucky
rebel girl. We laughed at her wit and the raillery that she heaped on
us, calling us invaders. But the colonel of the 125th was one day on
duty as officer of the day, and hearing of the rebel girl and her songs,
reported the matter to old granny Gilbert, who issued an order that had
the effect of an injunction, and we heard no more of the sweet voice of
Sally Atkinson while we did duty at Franklin. Colonel Opdyke was an
excellent officer in many respects, but a pronounced martinet, and had
not a particle of humor in his composition. There was a rumor in the
regiment that our Colonel Jim, as we sometimes called him, was a little
sweet on Sally, but I think there was nothing of it, and for the sad
fate of Sally and her two brothers, see the last campaign of this book.
We had not been long in Franklin before our experience in
transportation, heretofore referred to, began to have its deadly effect.
The typhoid fever and camp diarrhœa became alarmingly common. Our men
sickened and were sent to the general hospital at Nashville, where very
many died, and many were discharged, as unfit for further military duty.
Not any one of the hard fought battles of our campaigns so depleted our
ranks as our stay at Franklin. The water was of the limestone formation,
and did not seem to agree with those that were comparatively well, much
less those that were sick. I think that every old soldier will agree
with me that the march, while more fatiguing, is more healthful than the
camp.
While at Franklin we had the misfortune to be under the command of one
General Gilbert, a regular army officer. A man that the government had
educated at great expense at West Point, and had kept in service for
years after, and yet had no process of determining that he had no sense.
This man, that might possibly have commanded a company under a careful
colonel, was placed in command of all the forces around Franklin. I am
sorry to say it was under the command of this imbecile that we first met
the enemy. Colonel Coburn's brigade, which was composed of the 85th and
33d Ind. V. I., the 19th Mich. V. I., the 22d Wis. V. I., the 2d Mich.
Cav., a part of the 4th Ky., and a part of the 9th Pa. Cav., with a
light battery of six guns and a small train of wagons for forage, was
ordered in the direction of Columbia. Our regiment accompanied the
expedition as train guard. We moved a short distance the first day out
and went into camp, having seen a few rebel cavalry, and having received
the fire from a rebel gun or two that did no damage to us, save the
breaking a musket stock for one of our men. The next morning we moved
out of camp, and I remember watching the 19th Mich., it was such a
large, fine looking body of men, and moved down the pike toward Thompson
Station. Colonel Coburn soon developed the enemy in force, and so
reported to General Gilbert, who sent back an order for him to advance
and engage the enemy, intimating that the commander of the brigade was a
coward. Colonel Coburn then advanced and engaged the rebels, but his
little force was outflanked on either side by the superior numbers of
the enemy, and though fighting heroically, were soon surrounded and
captured, save the battery that ran over the rebel infantry, and a small
part of the 22d Wis., a part of one company, the cavalry force; and had
it not been for our good luck in being on duty with the wagons, we would
also have been taken. As it was, nothing saved us but the best of
running, and in a long race at that. We came into camp that night badly
used up, and very much disgusted with our old granny Gilbert, having
seen and run away from the battle of Thompson Station. The government
expended Colonel Coburn's brigade and the lives of many brave men to
learn, what every soldier about Franklin knew from the first, that
Gilbert was not fit to be in the command of anybody.
While at Franklin we built a very fine fort, situated northwesterly of
the village, and near our camp. The fort was built of earth, regularly
laid out with angles, and a deep moat surrounding the entire work. The
embrasures were well protected with gabions made of cane bound in
bundles, and in the center a fine magazine was constructed.
Heavy guns were brought from Nashville, and mounted _en barbette_. Why
the fort was built none could tell. The chances that it would ever be of
use to the cause of the Union were one thousand to one against the
proposition, but at the battle of Franklin, November 30, 1864, it paid
large interest on the investment. Those big smooth-bore guns shelled the
cotton field, south of the village, over which the rebels charged, in a
manner which was fearful to behold. We that had worked so many days on
that fort, felt that we were well repaid for our toil.
While the fort was building, it occurred to Colonel Payne that the
"contraband of war" might be useful in this work, so he ordered
Lieutenant Raidaie to take a detail of men, and go forth and bring in
such of the bondmen as he could find that were able to do the work
required. So the lieutenant sallied forth in the direction of Roper's
Knob, and he was rewarded by finding large numbers of the aforesaid
"contraband," as the slave owners of Kentucky had sent their slaves into
Tennessee, to keep them as far away as possible from the union lines.
These slaves we kept in camp until the fort was completed, and all that
desired were permitted to return to the places from whence they were
taken; but many of the younger ones stayed with us, and engaged
themselves as servants to the officers. But it was wonderful with what
alacrity these poor ignorant colored people performed the work required
of them. They seemed to realize that they were working for themselves.
March 9th, 1863, we left our camp at Franklin, General Gordon Granger in
command, and marched to within about a mile of Spring Hill, passed by
and over the battle field of March 5th, Thompson Station, but saw no
evidences of the late unequal, but sanguinary contest, save a few broken
guns and some dead horses. We went into bivouac at night, having no
tents with us. We marched thirteen miles. The next day it commenced
raining and we were all wet to the skin, but nothing daunted, we went at
work and fixed up shelter, and at about ten a. m. we had marching
orders. We marched about three miles, it raining all the time. Company B
received a detail to furnish twenty-five men for picket duty, which was
filled with healthy men, and quite a number of sick men in camp, and the
number ailing in the regiment was far from being inconsiderable. But we
found the next day that this movement toward Columbia did not mean
anything, and we were ordered back to Franklin, which was only a march
of seventeen miles, but we came into camp that night as stiff and sore
as foundered horses. We had no battle, we had lost no men, but take it
all in all, we were the better soldiers for the experience we had
gained.
We had now been in Franklin three months, and had put in the time in all
the ways in which a soldier's life is made up. Now, hardly a day went by
that the rebel cavalry did not appear at our picket line, and frequently
a lively skirmish would occur between our cavalry and a detachment of
that of our enemy. The losses of the rebels were always enormous(?)
while ours were entirely insignificant. The early part of April the
rebels made a raid on our rear, and destroyed a bridge on the railroad
about six miles north of Franklin, which caused us very much annoyance,
for at that period in our history, as soldiers, we thought we were badly
treated if we did not get our letters regularly from home.
June 2d, 1863, was our last at the camp at Franklin. Here, we had
learned very much of the duties of the soldier. We had not been slack in
our work, and had become quite proficient in the company, regimental,
and brigade evolutions. Here we had bidden good-bye to very many of our
men, and our companies were small compared to what they were when we
came to this camp; but our colonel consoled us by insisting that the
fighting number of one hundred men, for all causes, was about sixty, and
we found afterwards that the estimate of our young colonel was not far
from the mark. This day we struck our tents, and marched to Triune, a
distance of but thirteen miles, but the weather was so excessively hot
that our men suffered a great deal; but we had learned some wisdom from
our former experience, for our knapsacks were not nearly as large as
when we left Nashville. We remained in Triune until the twenty-first day
of June, during which time we were stirred up by skirmishes very
frequently, but the skirmishing was done mostly by the cavalry, on the
respective sides, and the usual large stories were told in camp of our
immense superiority over the enemy. While at Triune, one of our fellow
citizens from Ohio, C. L. Vallandigham, was sent through our lines "to
his friends in the south," as Mr. Lincoln humorously put it. We were
usually very glad to see anyone from home, but we were not at all proud
of this representative from Ohio.
We now saw what we regarded as indications of a general advance on the
position of the enemy, and it seemed to be our fate to be compelled to
march to the extreme left of the army to join the brigade to which we
had been assigned while at Triune. We were assigned to what was called
Hazen's brigade, composed of the 41st O. V. I., the 9th Ind. V. I., the
93d O. V. I., the 6th Ky. V. I., and our regiment, commanded by General
Wm. B. Hazen, the first colonel of the 41st, an officer in every way
qualified for the command assigned him. This day we marched over the
battle field of Stone river, through the dense cedars that figure so
conspicuously in the descriptions of that terrible engagement of the
closing year of 1862. We marched through the village of Murfreesborough,
and out one and one-half miles east of the town, and went into camp,
having come that day a distance of twenty-two miles, with less fatigue
and suffering than any we had formerly made. The next day we marched to
Readyville, a distance of twelve miles, and found our brigade. Here we
fixed up a nice camp, and were informed we would stay for some time.
This was as desolate a part of the south as it was ever our fortune to
tread over. It did not seem to be inhabited to any great extent, and was
as woodsy as Ohio seventy-five years ago. On the twenty-fourth of June
we broke up our camp and marched directly south through Bradyville, a
city consisting of three houses. We saw the burning of a great amount of
provisions before leaving Readyville that we concluded had to be
abandoned for lack of transportation. We marched this day about seven
miles in a very severe rainstorm. We were now informed that we were
after General Bragg, and we might expect a general engagement at any
time. The next day we marched not to exceed six or seven miles, and came
to a very long, steep hill that gave our artillery and train great
difficulty in the ascent. The roads we came over this day were the worst
we had so far encountered, but when we were on the top of this hill we
were on a broad shelf or table-land lying directly west of the
Cumberland mountains that seemed good for nothing, save to illustrate
the great variety of the works of Almighty God. The next day we stayed
in camp all day, waiting for our train to come up. It rained almost all
day long. The next day, June 27th, company B was detailed to help the
train along. They came to what is called the Long Branch of the Duck
river, and the men had to build a brush bridge across the stream, and
after getting mired in the quicksands time and time again, they finally
succeeded in getting the train over. This company did not get in to join
the regiment until the next morning, and then came wet, weary, and not
in their usual sweet temper.
The next day, Sunday, we marched but four miles and camped in a wood (I
do not remember of seeing any fields); but one thing justice requires to
be said for this table-land country, the water was simply exquisite. We
were now reported to be within forty-two miles of Manchester, and we
were informed that we were now making a grand flank movement that was to
cut off the retreat of Bragg, and by which we were to capture his entire
army, and, in fact, we were making this grand flank movement at the
rapid(?) rate of from seven to ten miles per day. On the twenty-ninth we
crossed the east branch of Duck river and did little but get our train
over this miry stream. This same weary marching continued until the
fourth day of July, and finds us on the Elk river, at Morris Ford,
awaiting the arrival of the pontoons. It had rained almost incessantly
for the last fourteen days, and very many of us had not had our clothing
dry in that time, but the weather was warm and none of us seemed to take
cold; I remember one day of this march that it was so very hot that the
men fell out in great numbers, and when we halted at night, no company
of the regiment could show more than one stack of muskets; but before
morning the good faithful boys came in, and the next day were ready to
resume their arduous duties. On July the 8th we arrived at Manchester,
and found that General Bragg had escaped us, and had crossed the
mountains into the valley of the Tennessee. We had not seen a rebel
since leaving Triune, and owing to the condition of the country and
roads, if we had seen one he must have been dead, for we did not move
fast enough to overtake a live one. No battle had been fought, though
one day we heard heavy firing in the direction of Tullahoma.
And so ended the summer for the 124th O. V. I., and also, in fact, for
the Army of the Cumberland. Although General Rosecrans had not succeeded
in bringing Bragg to an engagement, he had driven him from middle
Tennessee, the great rebel recruiting ground for men, animals, and
supplies, and while the victory was bloodless, it was in no small sense
important to the union cause. The unionists of east Tennessee saw in it
their coming deliverance, while the depressing effect of a retreat told
upon the confederate forces. Since leaving Franklin our regiment had
marched over one hundred and fifty miles, which, considering the weather
and the state of the roads, was an accomplishment that had a tendency to
increase our confidence, and prepare us for the more arduous duties that
fell to our lot after we crossed the great mountains and commenced
operations in the valley of the Tennessee—the key to the conquest of the
confederacy.
[Illustration:
_QUARTERMASTER WILLIAM TREAT._
]
SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF THE CAMPAIGN OF CHATTANOOGA
AND THE BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA.
If you ask, to-day,[1] the young man of twenty-five years, married and
his little ones growing up in health and peace about him, what he
recollects of the war for the suppression of the rebellion, his answer
must be "nothing." He will say, "I was not born until after the war had
been on one year. I remember nothing about the war, as you call it, for
the suppression of the rebellion."
Footnote 1:
Written in 1887.
If you ask the man of thirty years, in full business life, a leader of
society, the same question, his answer will be undoubtedly, "I remember
but little about the war; I was but four years old when the war broke
out. I remember sometime during the war seeing the soldiers, in their
blue coats and bright buttons and arms, as they marched along to the
station _to go to the front_, as they said. I remember hearing the
_drumbeat_, I recollect feeling the _heart-throb_, as I saw the flag
which they bore aloft. I was but nine years old when the war ended. I
remember that when the boys came back, battered and scarred, in their
dirty and faded uniforms, their flag in tatters, their faces bronzed and
burned by the southern sun, that of them that met them at the station
many wept, because so many that went away with them _returned not_."
And so, to the majority of those to-night, the war is but a matter of
history and legend of story and of song.
The recollections of those years from 1861 to 1865 are, in many minds,
as indelible as though graven on brass, or chiseled in marble.
Those of you who have personal recollections, as well as those familiar
with the history of those times, will remember that the summer of 1863,
so far as the Army of the Cumberland was concerned, was spent (as was at
one time said of the Army of the Potomac) in "masterly inactivity;" and
although after the battle of Stone river the army occupied a line as far
south as Franklin and Murfreesboro, Tenn. And though the army, under the
now immortal Grant, had captured one entire rebel army, and had opened
the "Father of Waters," so long closed at Vicksburg; and though the
gallant Meade had met the invaders at Gettysburg and hurled him back, in
defeat and confusion, to his old lair beyond the Potomac, the Army of
the Cumberland, under General Rosecrans, as late as August had barely
gained the foothills of the Cumberland mountains.
The Cumberland mountains run in a direction south of west and north of
east, and for most of the way are composed of two considerable ridges,
some two thousand feet above the valley of the Tennessee. These ridges
are broken at Chattanooga by the Tennessee river, and so bold and abrupt
is Lookout mountain on the south side of the river, that one can almost
conclude that some great convulsion of nature had reft it asunder from
its corresponding ridge on the north side.
This chain of mountains, this deep and broad river, lay between our army
and that of the enemy when the march commenced southward in August,
1863.
The corps to which my regiment was attached, the 21st, under General
Crittenden, and the 14th Corps, under General George H. Thomas, crossed
the mountains above Chattanooga, while General McCook's Corps, and the
Reserve Corps under General Gordon Granger, crossed at and below
Chattanooga.
And while in the effort of crossing this great mountain range and river,
the right and left wings of the army must have been seventy-five miles
apart, and neither near enough to aid the other in case of an attack. I
am almost at a loss to know how the Army of the Cumberland was put south
of mountains and river; whether by the ability of Rosecrans, or the
stupidity of Bragg, the feat was accomplished.
And while there was many a mountain defile that would have answered for
a modern Thermopylæ, happily for us the _three hundred Spartans_ seemed
to be wanting.
The early part of August, 1863, found us encamped at Manchester, Tenn.,
at or near the head waters of the Duck river after the close of the
Tullahoma campaign, if it is proper to call that a campaign, that was
simply a retreat on the part of the confederates, and pursuit on the
part of the federal forces.
Manchester is situated on what is known as the table-lands of Tennessee,
and though high and supplied with the most delightful water, very many
of our men were sick by reason of the exposure on the campaign just
closed, and had to be sent back to hospitals or sent home on furlough,
which latter was very seldom done; and when accomplished costing great
pains and anxiety. If our national policy had been to furlough our
worthy sick, instead of sending them off to the inhospitable hospitals,
to be experimented upon by the graduates, fresh from our medical
colleges, to pine away with homesickness, be crowded together in great
numbers "into the wards of the whitewashed halls, where the dead and
dying lay," when a few days and weeks at home with its cheering
influences and home diet, _something mother could fix up_, would have
restored, without doubt, thousands of brave men to health and duty, that
by reason of the narrow, niggardly, treat-every-man-as-a-coward policy
of the government, went down to needless and untimely graves.
I have read accounts of the neatly arranged graves of these men with the
beautiful marble headstones, furnished at the expense of the government,
in our great national cemeteries; but I never think of those great
armies of the dead but I think, _how many might have been saved_. Very
many of those headstones are more monuments to the lack of good sense on
the part of the government, than a noble and patriotic generosity.
Nearly all of our soldiers that died of disease in hospitals, could and
should have been sent home and saved. I remember very well it was never
any trouble to procure a leave of absence for a sick or wounded officer,
but to procure one for a poor private in the ranks was altogether a
different matter.
It may not be out of place for me to give you a brief account of an
effort that I made to procure furloughs for three most worthy sick men,
while at Manchester, just before we started on the Chattanooga campaign.
These men were afflicted with that terrible disease, that with the aid
of the government and its surgeons has slain its tens of thousands,
known as camp or chronic diarrhœa. I made out an application for
furloughs for these men, knowing full well that the time was very brief,
that we must leave these brave men to the care of entire strangers—men
that did hospital duty, as they did any other, because they were ordered
to; and knowing full well that, in all human probability, they would
never return to the regiment if they were sent to the hospital, I
determined to make a great effort to save them. I procured a very
earnest indorsement from our regimental surgeon, Major Dewitt C.
Patterson, than whom a more competent or kinder hearted surgeon never
had the health of a regiment in charge, also the very favorable
indorsement of our colonel; but he refused to give me leave to carry the
application to brigade headquarters, for good reasons, no doubt, as he
informed me that the application must go through the regular channel. I
told him "the application might get back in time to attend the funeral,
but never to do these men any good." I immediately went to the
headquarters of the brigade commandant; he examined carefully the
application, wanted to know the urgency of the matter, and after I had
explained to him all I could, and after I had urged everything I could
think of that I thought would help the case of the sick men, he coolly
took the application from my hands, indorsed it "disallowed," and
ordered me to my regiment, saying, "we are not granting furloughs on the
eve of starting on a campaign."
I was somewhat disheartened, but not altogether discouraged. I
immediately repaired to General Palmer's headquarters, who commanded the
division. The general treated me with great politeness, heard all I had
to say, and then informed me that no furloughs were being granted; said
"he would excuse me for bringing up the application without leave,"
kindly ordered me to my regiment, and advised me "give up the
enterprise, if I wished to save myself from the disgrace of a court-
martial," which, as we soldiers all know, is a _court organized to
convict_.
I then turned my steps toward the headquarters of General Crittenden,
commanding our corps; he treated me with great brusqueness, not only
refusing the indorsement I so much desired, but severely censured me for
not sending the application through the regular channel. He gave me the
usual complimental (?) order, "Immediately repair to your regiment,
sir!" I was "cast down, but not destroyed;" I had just one ground of
hope left me, and that was centered in "Old Pap Thomas."
These various headquarters that I had visited were all situated at or
near Manchester, and I applied to them all the same day; but the
headquarters of General Thomas was at Winchester, more than sixty miles
from our camp. The point now was how to get to Winchester? I went to the
colonel and applied for a pass for that place, which, luckily for my
purpose, he granted me without asking me what I wanted it for. We had a
train down in the morning and back at night; so the next morning, armed
with my pass and my badly _disallowed_ application in my pocket, I took
the train for Winchester. With my heart away up in my thorax, I
approached the headquarters of the old general. I was compelled to wait
a long time, it seemed to me, to obtain an interview with him; he
received me very gravely, yet kindly, and carefully listened to all I
had to say; he wanted to know "if the men would be able to go home if
the furlough should be granted?" I insisted they would if granted
immediately, and that must be my excuse for not sending the application
through the regular channel. I urged upon the general the fact that so
many of our men were dying in the hospitals of that terrible disease.
The old iron-faced general turned to a member of his staff that was at a
table writing and told him to indorse the application _allowed_. I then
asked the general if he would indorse on the same, leave for me to take
it in person to General Rosecrans. This he most cheerfully did, and
General Rosecrans issued the furloughs without another word of
explanation.
[Illustration:
_ADJUTANT SHERBURN B. EATON._
]
The next morning the sick boys were taken to the train, and started for
Ohio. In sixty days two of them returned for duty, were in every battle
of the regiment, and were honorably discharged. The other was discharged
for disability. One of them, after the war, made himself a home in
California, the other I meet often, but I never see him but I think how
much he owes to that noble "Old Pap Thomas."
In a few days after we were ordered to get ready to march, and the first
day brought us to a beautiful mountain river, on the banks of which we
went into camp, near a small quaker village called Irvingville, I think.
The next morning we had to ford the river, which was cold and in some
places quite deep. This brought us to the first range of the Cumberland
mountains. Our regiment was detailed to assist the wagon train up the
steep mountain road, which duty occupied our attention the greater part
of the day. That night we encamped on the mountain, and enjoyed a most
refreshing sleep in the cool invigorating mountain air. The next day we
marched down off from this ridge into the Sequatchie valley. This valley
is some mile or more, perhaps, in width and runs down to Chattanooga,
and we entered it some six or eight miles from its head. Through this
valley runs a pure cold stream of water—a thing always prized by an army
or camping party.