to get hard up and threatened suspension. Now, for the purpose of being
understood by the Sons of Veterans and the young people that hear me,
suffer me to explain. A _ration_ is an allowance, issued by the
commissary department, of the various things on which soldiers are fed,
to-wit: hard bread (called hard-tack), bacon (sometimes called sow-
belly), fresh beef, beans, rice, coffee, sugar, salt and pepper, and
sometimes, under favorable circumstances, soft bread. Now a full ration
is ample for three meals, and sometimes a little to spare when _full_.
We had not been in a state of siege long (owing to the defective
transportation of which I have spoken) before we were put on half
rations, that is, one-half of three meals or one and one-half meals a
day; and before many days after we were put on quarter rations, that is,
three-fourths of one meal a day. Now any of you that have tried to live
on less than enough for one meal a day (and are no relation to Dr.
Tanner) will realize the situation we were in. While our rations were
short and, in fact, fast growing less, the health of the men was
materially impaired. The truth is, as a rule, while in camp soldiers eat
too much, and exercise too little. The quarter rations were helped out
by stealing corn from the famishing mules, which the soldiers parched
and ate. The mules and horses that were not sent to the rear died of
starvation, so that, at the time the operations began against the
position of the enemy, we had not a horse to move a gun. Could we have
moved our light batteries on to the Ridge, immediately after the
assault, the loss to the enemy would have been much more severe. But
while the starvation, the enforced fast that we suffered, may have been
beneficial to the health of the men, their morals seemed to decrease in
a corresponding ratio. Stealing whatever one could get his hands on to
eat became not only prevalent, but popular. The brigade commissaries had
to be guarded to keep them from being plundered, while not infrequently
the guards proved to be simply cappers for the hungry thieves of the
regiments from which they were respectively detailed. Officer's mess-
chests were raided; and one could not get up in the night without seeing
some adventurous fellow slipping through the rows of tents with a box of
hard-tack on his shoulders. Holes were excavated under the floors of the
tents, and used as storing places for the plunder obtained by these
nocturnal adventures. I now distinctly remember one "Israelite, in whom
there was no guile," of company I, that the boys for short called "Jew
Jake," that more than kept his mess in hard bread during that time of
scarcity. But the sad part of the whole business was that, while the
raiders and plunderers had all and more than they needed in the way of
bread, the honest ones had comparatively less, as the commissary
department distributed with absolute fairness the scanty rations it had
to issue. And for once there was no favoritism shown to the officers. An
officer could not buy more than was issued for a ration to a private
soldier. But I am, as I remember it from this great lapse of time, in no
situation to be very hard upon those volunteer commissary sergeants that
were so willing to help issue rations, even if they had to go on night
duty, for, as I now remember it, Jew Jake was a great friend to the mess
of which I was a member. And when the time was that the new white hard-
tack looked brighter and better than silver dollars to a people's party
man, no questions were asked as to how they were issued.
But the day of our deliverance was fast approaching. Above the village
and on the river, inside of our lines, was an old steam sawmill that
probably had not turned a wheel since the war began. This was discovered
by some one, put in order by some soldier (for we had plenty of soldiers
in our ranks that could repair and put in running order, anything from a
watch to a locomotive), and, on taking a stroll in that direction one
day, I saw a gang of soldiers sawing two-inch planks. These planks were
slipped into the river, and landed further down town for further use in
the great drama that we were preparing to enact. We had not been penned
up long in Chattanooga before the country became aroused at the danger
to the Army of the Cumberland. Luckily for us almost everyone saw our
danger save General Bragg, and he seemed to have no hostile designs on
our army. Truly, it seems to me, General Bragg was the General McClellan
of the confederate army, without McClellan's powers of organization and
his delight in grand reviews.
As I have stated before, the authorities superseded General Rosecrans,
and put the Army of the Cumberland, and all other forces to be
assembled, in command of the "Hero of Vicksburg," "the silent conqueror
of rebel armies and strongholds." But that was not all; the government,
by the aid of the matchless executive ability of Edwin M. Stanton,
President Lincoln's war secretary, withdrew the 20th Corps, commanded by
General Joe Hooker, from the Army of the Potomac, transferred them by
rail and put them into camp at Bridgeport, on the Tennessee river about
fifty miles below Chattanooga, in seven days' time. This was the most
rapid movement of troops ever known in the world's history. In the
meantime General Sherman with his western veterans was on the long march
from the Mississippi, headed for Chattanooga. I remember one night the
rumor came by "the grapevine telegraph," "Hooker was at Bridgeport,
Ala.," and soon the shout "Hooker has come—Hooker has come—Hooker's at
Bridgeport" ran along our lines. Even the never ending seven-up was
abandoned, and the men gathered in squads to inquire and discuss our
prospectively bettered condition and situation, while the officers
hastened to headquarters, anxious to have the rumor confirmed. It was
not long before an officer from the 20th Corps was seen in Chattanooga,
and then the enthusiasm of the Army of the Cumberland knew no bounds.
But Lookout valley was in the possession of the enemy, and it was the
purpose of General Grant to lodge General Hooker's Corps in that valley,
preparatory to swinging it around the north side of Lookout mountain.
Day after day the sound of the ax and the hammer might have been heard
at the steamboat landing in front of the village. It was the building of
boats from the material sawed at the mill above. The boats were
constructed on the pontoon pattern, not deep, but wide, and if the
rebels took notice of the work they would have been justified in
believing from appearances, that our intention was to construct a
pontoon bridge across the river from Chattanooga. But that was not the
intention. One day there came an order from General Hazen, who commanded
our brigade, to furnish so many men, picked men, on account of their
known bravery and soldierly character. Also, a certain number of
officers to be selected for the same qualities. We furnished the
requisite number from company B, and so did each company of the
regiment, but the name of your unworthy speaker was not on the list of
officers. He was not either among those _called_ or _chosen_. Of course,
I did not know that our gallant Colonel Pickands considered me worthy
for the expedition at hand; but I did know that my saber had been
hanging idly in his tent "for low, these many days," and being there
duty was not for me until I was again put in possession of the same. So
I stayed in camp with Captain Powell of company G and some other
officers and men; because, while all were brave enough, all could not be
chosen. I think the number selected from our brigade was three hundred,
commanded by that prince among fine officers, the late lamented General
Hazen.
That night the detail were all gotten ready and down to the landing; and
at midnight, when the young moon had hidden its bright crescent behind
the Cumberlands, and the fog from the river had wrapped the base of old
Lookout in an impenetrable cloud of mist, the "three hundred" embarked
silently, and the current of the river bore them down to the point where
the work was to be done. They swept along without accident; and not even
the sleepless rebel pickets, that lined the left bank of the river,
discovered their presence. Just before the sun began to chase away the
darkness from the east they halted at Brown's Ferry, the place of their
destination. Their boats were hastily shoved ashore and the skirmish
line formed, and before the rebels in Lookout valley knew what was going
forward, the "three hundred" of our brigade awoke them from their dreams
by the crack of their muskets, as they scattered the rebel picket line
posted along the river, and before the sun was up Hooker's legions were
pouring into the valley and on their way to the north base of Lookout,
and by the time the sun had set that day Hooker's skirmish line was in
sight of Chattanooga.
This signal success at Brown's Ferry, more remarkable for the boldness
of its plan and the daring with which it was executed than anything
else, did not cost our brigade the loss of a man, either killed or
wounded, but it gave Hooker a foothold in Lookout valley whereby he
swept it of rebels and opened up _our cracker line_, as the boys called
it, and in a few days we had full supply. From the date of the
expedition to Brown's Ferry whatever there was of the siege of
Chattanooga was raised.
THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN.
Not many days after the capture of Lookout valley by Hooker the head
column of General Sherman's troops came up on the west side of the river
and commenced laying a pontoon bridge across, and soon the western boys,
all dusty and begrimed by their long march, came filing through our
camps. To say they received a hearty welcome from the Army of the
Cumberland is drawing it mildly. They were no _paper collar soldiers_.
They not only had the bearing of veterans, but victors. They marched out
east of town and went into camp near Tunnel hill. Even soldiers often
have but little idea of the time it takes to move a great army of men
from one position to another. It consumed an entire day for General
Sherman's army to pass out to their camp.
The twenty-third day of November, 1863, the Army of the Cumberland moved
out late in the afternoon, none of us knowing the purpose. We formed in
a continuous line of battle with a heavy skirmish line well in the
front. At the word of command we all moved in the direction of the
ridge.
Before the rebels seemed to be aware of what was intended we had come up
to our picket line, and that also advanced with our skirmishers, when
the rebel outposts in most places gave way without showing much
resistance. But where the rebel line crossed Orchard Knob they had quite
respectable rifle pits which they defended with some spirit, causing the
41st O. V. I. some trouble in dislodging them, and thereby we had some
few men wounded in our brigade. This line, formerly occupied by the
rebel outposts, we at once commenced fortifying by throwing up strong
rifle pits of earth and stone. We then advanced our skirmish line well
out toward the base of the ridge. One of the prisoners that we captured
said: "Weuns thought youns was coming out for a review, we didn't think
youns was coming out to fight weuns." We informed the Johnny that
General Grant was commanding us, and he was not a review general. That
night we bivouacked on the line, working on the rifle pits by details.
It might be well enough to here remark that the saber of the subscriber,
that had so long hung in the tent of Colonel Pickands, was shortly
before this forward movement returned, owing to the fact that the little
unpleasantness that had occurred with General Willich had fallen into
the condition of "inoxous disuetude," and your humble servant was
permitted to carry that then and now totally useless appendage of an
officer until the muster-out man relieved him therefrom.
For fear some of you may think my offense was more serious than it was,
and that all may know just how severe army discipline was in those times
when men for the good of their country submitted to the petty tyranny
and whims of their superiors, I have concluded to relate the experience
I had of being under arrest. It was one of those beautiful Indian summer
days when, under conditions of peace, bare existence is a luxury, I had
command of the reserve post in front of Fort Wood. To relieve the tedium
of the hour, myself and three non-commissioned officers on duty with me
were engaged in the _army orthodox_ game of "seven-up." On looking to
the eastward I saw a general officer and his staff approaching as they
came over the top of a hill. I immediately turned out the reserve, and
when the cavalcade rode up I gave the order "present arms," which was
obeyed in good style, but instead of General Willich and his staff
riding away with a kind good morning, he said, "Captain, you report mit
your Colonel under arrest," and without telling me what the "head and
front of my offending" consisted of, I started back to the headquarters
of my regiment. I deposited my _cheese knife_ with the Colonel, and he
directed me to report to the brigade commander, and he directed me to
report to General Willich, whom I found in an old log house. I made
known to him my business. After producing a snuffbox as large as an army
frying pan, and after filling very well his nasal appendage, commenced
in about this style: "Cap'n, you blay cards mit your men. _I blay
cards._ I blay cards mit officers, but not mit men. You blay cards mit
your men—mit your enlisted men. Your men not have respect mit you. Then
when you come mit the battle, you lose control mit your men, you company
preaks, the regiment preaks, and the brigade goes to the tyfle. You go
mit your quarters, I prefer charges mit you." Here was a splendid
Prussian officer that at this late period of the war had not learned the
value of the volunteer soldier and that it was perfectly safe to treat
him when off duty like any other gentleman of equal merit. This fact was
known in our regiment from the start, and the difference between the
officer and the enlisted man was never asserted only for the purpose of
duty—the good of the service. The charges of the brave Prussian officer
were preferred in due time, and, before this movement that I have
described, were withdrawn at the instance of General Wm. B. Hazen, and
that was the last that was ever heard of the charges of "blaying cards
mit your men."
November 24th the mist hung heavy on the summit of Lookout and almost
hid the monarch of the Cumberlands from our view. Nothing occurred to
break the monotony of the soldier's life until about half past ten
o'clock a. m. a heavy firing commenced on the other side of Lookout from
us, and rumor (the soldiers telegraph) said "that Hooker was advancing
up the west and north sides of the mountain." This did not long lack
confirmation, for our fort on Cameron Hill soon commenced shelling the
woods that covered the mountain, save a cleared field just below the
palisades, in a very spirited manner. This fire was returned by the big
rebel guns mounted on the summit of Lookout, just above the palisades,
but for some reason seemed entirely ineffective.
How many of those present ever heard a vigorous cannonading in a
mountainous country? Of course, nearly all the old soldiers present to-
day have. The mountain ridges were so situated around Chattanooga that a
single discharge of a cannon would be repeated by the echo five and six
times, the second and third nearly as loud as the first discharge.
You can therefore imagine the grandeur of an artillery duel in these
mountains. General Grant ordered a battery down near Chattanooga creek,
that runs between the town and the base of the mountain, which did
effective work in shelling the woods all day, and must have been most
terribly annoying to the rebels. It was not long before we could tell by
the firing coming nearer that Hooker's veterans from the east were
driving the rebels before them, and soon the lines of blue smoke could
be seen rising above the trees. All eyes were now centered on Lookout,
and in a short time we could see the rebels had fallen back to the open
field below the palisades, in which at that time stood a farm house.
Presently we could see the lines of blue coming from out the woods into
the open field, and from their direction and extension they must have
reached from the base of the mountain to the palisades. The fighting
seemed heaviest on the east side of the open field; but nothing could
withstand the force of the constant charge that Hooker was making, and
when the sun went down the rebel line was driven back well along the
east side of the mountain and nearly opposite the west end of Missionary
Ridge. The skirmish lines kept up a constant fire until after midnight,
marking their positions by the continuous blaze of the musketry. Two
lines of musketry running up the steep sides of a mountain in plain
view, and constantly belching forth their tongues of flame, is a sight
most inspiring, and seen only once in a lifetime.
That night the rebels abandoned Lookout, and the next morning we greeted
the grand old stars and stripes floating proudly from the summit of that
mountain peak, in place of the traitorous emblem that we had been
compelled to gaze upon, in disgust, for so many long sad weeks.
THE BATTLE OF MISSIONARY RIDGE.
We fought the battle of Missionary Ridge with the great victory of the
battle of Lookout mountain as an inspiration, and the flag the gallant
Hooker planted there waiving above us.
Some have supposed that the battle of Missionary Ridge was fought
without any definite plan save to find the enemy and fight him, but this
is an error. While the battle of Missionary Ridge was a brilliant
success, could General Grant's plan have been carried out Bragg's entire
army must have been destroyed or captured. Hooker was ordered to
withdraw from the mountain early in the morning of the twenty-fifth,
cross Chattanooga creek and move up the valley to Rossville, and thereby
substantially turn Bragg's left flank. Sherman was to attack his right
flank at Tunnel Hill, while Thomas, in direct command of the Army of the
Cumberland, was to hold the center, and fall on his rear the moment he
saw any indications that Bragg was withdrawing to support his right or
left. But it was never intended that the ridge should be climbed in the
face of the enemy, without either of his flanks being turned or shaken.
No general ever dreamed of the storming of Missionary Ridge before the
charge began. The best plans of battles often fail of execution. When
General Hooker struck Chattanooga creek he found a stream he could not
ford, and was compelled to bridge in face of the enemy and under a heavy
fire. And instead of being able to reach Rossville early in the day, as
was expected by Grant, he found himself confronted by the enemy more
resolute and determined than had opposed him on the mountain the day
before.
Sherman opened the battle on our left with great vigor and
determination, and from our position we could see his charging columns;
but he found the enemy in a very strong position, naturally, improved by
very strong works, and he seemed to make little, if any, progress.
Our line ran through the edge of a small growth of timber. To the front
there was a soap-stone plateau of about six hundred yards, before
reaching the base of the ridge, where ran a line of the enemy's rifle
pits well filled with infantry. Our skirmish line covered the entire
front of the brigade, and soon after our position had been taken Colonel
Pickands came to the officers of the regiment with the order that "at
the firing of six guns from Fort Wood, and the sounding of the
_forward_, we must face to the front, and not suffer ourselves to be
checked until we put ourselves into the rebel works at the base of the
ridge."
No emotion was visible in the soldierly face of our brave colonel, save,
perhaps, a little more violent chewing of a large quid of the weed that
added rotundity to his bronzed weather-beaten cheek. His further order
was that we inform each man in the ranks of what was expected of him.
Commanding at the time company B, it was my painful duty to break the
news to those that I had known from boyhood, and that I had learned to
love as brothers. No one that I communicated the order to, but turned
pale.
If the Light Brigade, that Tennyson has immortalized, was ordered "into
the jaws of death, into the gates of hell," what was to be our fate
when, the moment our line struck the open plateau, one hundred guns
would be opened on us from the summit of the ridge; while the infantry,
safe in its works at the foot of the ridge, would be in deadly range
from the moment we emerged from the little strip of timber that
concealed our line. Now there was nothing to do but wait. Now the time
hung heavy. Now the soldier's thoughts were filled with home and the
loved ones left behind, and what would become of them if he should fall
in the terrific charge that he knew would soon have to be made.
It is the dreadful waiting that is more terrible than the shock of
battle. When once within the storm of the leaden hail the soldier seems
to rise to a higher plane of life; and while his comrades fall around
him, the din of battle in his ears, the groans of the wounded and dying,
the shouts of defiance of the enemy, and encouragement of his comrades
are ringing out on every hand, he feels as much the master of the storm
of battle as the eagle of the storm cloud.
But the waiting at last comes to an end. Hooker has found more
difficulties in pushing his column to the right of the ridge and in the
direction of Rossville, than had been anticipated, and as the sun was
slowly sinking toward the crest of Waldron's Ridge the cannon belched
forth from Fort Wood.
Every soldier of the 124th was instantly in position, and as the silvery
notes of the bugle sounded the _forward_, and breaking the awful silence
after the cannon's reverberations had ceased, the 124th, with clutched
muskets, rushed forth to the charge of death. As soon as we emerged from
the line of timber the rebel guns opened on us, and the whole ridge from
right to left blazed like a volcano. The earth trembled and shook as
though in the throes of an earthquake, while grape, canister, shell and
shrapnel bounded on the stony plain, like peas on the threshing floor.
The rebel infantry at the base of the ridge, seeing the impetuosity of
the charge, left their works and fled to their main line at the summit.
The terrible order had been obeyed. We had put ourselves into the rebel
works at the base of the ridge; and, looking back over the way we had
come, we saw the solid ranks of infantry moving toward us. The rebel
artillery from the top of the ridge opened terrible gaps and lanes in
those ranks of blue; but nothing daunted, onward, with steady step, they
come, until they mingle with us at the foot of the ridge. The terrible
order had been obeyed, and the mercenary soldier would have been content
to have remained in the comparative security afforded by the hill. Not
so the grand old Army of the Cumberland; not so the grand old 124th.
_Without orders_ the charge was at once resumed. The ridge in our front
is eight hundred feet above the level of the Tennessee; in some places
almost perpendicular, but in our front not so abrupt, but so steep that
the ascent was difficult to one without arms and accoutrements. On
rushed the gallant army; on rushed the gallant regiment. Every soldier
had all the ardor of a Phil. Sheridan. No opportunity to return the
galling fire. Comrades falling at every step, but at last the summit is
gained. The enemy completely routed. The guns of the rebels turned.
Plenty of ammunition found, but no friction primers. The ingenuity of
the 124th is equal to the occasion. A boy shouts "_stand back_," fires
his musket on the breech of the cannon, and the shell goes screeching
toward the ranks of the retreating enemy, adding consternation to panic.
On the left of where we broke the line the enemy still held out against
the heroic charge of the gallant Willich. Instantly a line of the 124th
is formed, the left half-wheel executed, and the rebels, finding their
flank attacked, crumble and finally flee in dismay. A battery of
artillery is descried in the front, being moved to the rear. Instantly
and without orders a few men form a skirmish line and advance, and in a
few seconds every horse is shot down. The guns proved to be a part of
the celebrated Loomis battery, taken by the rebels at Stone river.
But the red sun had gone down behind the ridge of the Cumberlands. The
stars and stripes float proudly from the entire length of Missionary
Ridge, where but a few hours before the flag of the traitor floated in
defiance of law and right. Then went up such a shout from that mountain-
top, as was only heard, "when the morning stars sang together, and all
the sons of God shouted for joy."