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Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
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FOUR MONTHS IN LIBBY,
AND THE
CAMPAIGN AGAINST ATLANTA.
BY
CAPT. I. N. JOHNSTON,
CO. H, SIXTH KENTUCKY VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.
CINCINNATI:
PRINTED AT THE METHODIST BOOK CONCERN,
FOR THE AUTHOR.
E. P. THOMPSON, PRINTER.
1864.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864,
BY I. N. JOHNSTON,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern
District of Ohio.
PREFACE.
I might plead, with truth, "the solicitations of friends" as my
apology for appearing in print; but as mine is an unpracticed pen,
the public, perhaps, may demand a better reason. Without any crime
I have been an inmate of the foulest of Southern prisons, and a
companion of the brave men whose condition and treatment has called
forth the sympathy of the nation, and which will yet call forth the
condemnation of the civilized world. I was one of the party that
planned and executed one of the most remarkable escapes known to
history--the record of which will be enduring as that of the war
itself. The labors and perils of which I was a partaker will, I am
well assured, give an interest to these pages which the charm of
style can never impart to a tale wanting in stirring incident. I
write, then, simply because I have a story to tell, which many will
take pleasure in hearing, and which, I doubt not, in after years
will employ a more skillful pen than mine.
Those with whom I have sat around the camp-fire, shared the
weariness of the march, and the dangers of the battle, will like
my story none the less for being plainly told; and my companions
in Libby, and the partners of my flight, will think of other
matters than brilliant sentences and round periods, as they read
these pages. I claim no leadership in the enterprise of which I
write--the time has not yet come to give honor to whom honor is
due; the reason of my silence in this respect will appear in the
course of my narrative.
When I began these pages I had no intention of carrying the reader
beyond my escape from Libby. I have, however, been induced to add
an account of Sherman's great campaign against Atlanta; and while
this will, perhaps, have less interest for the general reader, it
will possess more for those who were with me in that memorable
march. My friends, I am sure, will be indulgent; may I express the
hope that all others will have their sympathies too much aroused
for our brave boys, still in prison, to be critical?
I. N. JOHNSTON.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
ENTERING THE SERVICE.
Character of the age--My own experiences--Object of my
book--Entering the service--Elected Captain--The 6th
Kentucky--Its deeds PAGE 9
CHAPTER II.
SHILOH AND STONE RIVER.
My first battle, and how I felt--Wounded and left on the
field--Disasters of first day and final triumph 21
CHAPTER III.
CHICKAMAUGA.
The battle--Am taken prisoner--Trip to Richmond--Incidents
on the way--Star-Spangled Banner sung in Dixie--Kind
treatment--Arrival at Richmond 33
CHAPTER IV.
FAILURES.
Richmond--The prison--Treatment of Prisoners--Plans of
escape--Sad Failures--Prospect of success 46
CHAPTER V.
THE TUNNEL.
A new plan adopted--Nature of the task--In the tunnel--Maj.
M'Donald's adventure--My own disappearance--Given
up as escaped--Fislar's story 65
CHAPTER VI.
CELLAR LIFE.
My home and company--Great alarm--Still safe--The work
renewed--Success--Last night in Libby--Words on leaving 81
CHAPTER VII.
THE ESCAPE.
The last night--Farewell to Libby--Sufferings and dangers
--The North Star our guide--The faithful negro--A false
friend--Almost retaken--The contrast 95
CHAPTER VIII.
UNDER THE FLAG AGAIN.
In the swamp--Meeting our pickets--Warm welcome--Kind
treatment--Interview with General Butler--Arrival at
Washington 113
CHAPTER IX.
RETURN TO THE FRONT.
Return home--How I spent my furlough--Join my regiment
--Changes--Forward movement--Tunnel Hill--Rocky
Face--Resaca 127
CHAPTER X.
ON TO ATLANTA.
Confidence in our leader--Tunnel Hill and Rocky Face
Mountain--Pursuit of the enemy--Johnston's strategy--In
command of my regiment--Battle near Dallas--Night on the
battle-field--Reflections 142
CHAPTER XI.
MARCHING AND FIGHTING.
Reminder to the reader--Sherman, Howard, and Thomas in
council--The attack and repulse--The Sixth Kentucky in
front again--In the trenches--Guarding train--Forward
march 155
CHAPTER XII.
SHERMAN STILL FLANKING.
Pine Mountain and death of Gen. Polk--Georgia scenery
--Before Kenesaw--The unreturning brave--Marietta ours
--Across the Chattahoochee 167
CHAPTER XIII.
BEFORE ATLANTA.
Intrenching all night--Gallant exploit of the First and
Third Brigades--Atlanta in view--In the trenches before
the city--The Sixth Kentucky ordered to Tennessee--Turning
over my command--A parting word 180
FOUR MONTHS IN LIBBY.
CHAPTER I.
ENTERING THE SERVICE.
Character of the age--My own experiences--Object of my
book--Entering the service--Elected captain--The 6th
Kentucky--Its deeds.
I am a soldier, a plain, blunt man; hence, what I have to say
will have the directness of a soldier's tale. The age in which
we live is a heroic one; boys who four years ago were at school
or guiding the plow are now heroes; we have battle-fields enough
for all time, and names on the page of history eclipsing those
of the great captains of the past--names that the world will not
willingly let die. Reason as we may, there is a charm about the
story of a great war that few are able to resist; grave scholars go
into ecstasies over the tale of Troy; and the youth, whose reading
is confined to the old family Bible, devours with avidity those
portions which tell of the exploits of Samson or the triumphs of
David; and it is the fearful conflicts which they describe that
give such interest to the Paradise Lost and Bunyan's Holy War. What
boy's blood has not been stirred by the story of Bunker Hill, the
exploits of a Marion, and the fall of Yorktown? What youth has not
wept as he read the story of Warren's death, or the sadder story of
the execution of Hale, the proud young martyr of liberty? and in
generations to come the youth of this land, with burning cheek and
tearful eye, will read how Ellsworth fell, just as he had torn down
the emblem of treason; and how the gallant young Dahlgren died,
almost in sight of the sad captives whom he desired to deliver. Who
has not been thrilled with horror at the cruelties inflicted by
the minions of the British King upon the colonists taken in arms
for a cause the most noble, and consigned to the living grave of
the prison-ship? and yet these cruelties have been repeated, with
even increased malignity, at Belle Isle and Libby Prison.
I have experienced nearly all the fortunes of a soldier, and can
therefore speak from my own personal observation. I have felt that
ardent love of country which has taken so many from the peaceful
pursuits of life to the tented field. I know something of the stern
joy of battle, the rapture of victory; I am familiar with the long,
weary march, want of food, and thirst, which amounts to agony;
nay, I have been stretched almost lifeless on the battle-field,
know something of the long, weary hours of slow recovery from
painful wounds, and, harder than all, long months of sad, weary,
and almost hopeless captivity, and the joy, too, of escape from
what almost seemed a living tomb. And though young, wanting the
large experience of some, and the culture of others; yet my plain,
unadorned story, I feel well assured, will not be told in vain.
I shall make no apology, then, for any literary defects; the work
I propose is not one of art or imagination, but a record of facts;
and in whatever other respects it may fail, it will, at least, have
the merit of truth. Moreover, I write mainly for my companions
in arms, my comrades by whose sides I have fought, and with whom
I have suffered; and if, in fighting over again our battles,
rehearsing our common dangers, privations, toils, and triumphs, I
can minister to their pleasure, my task will not be a useless one,
and my little book will long be a link to bind together hearts that
danger has only endeared.
Nor am I without hope that I shall be able to awaken an interest
for the soldier in the minds of those who never have passed through
scenes such as I describe. He who unselfishly bares his breast to
the storm of battle, who stands between peaceful homes and danger,
who suffers that others may be safe, certainly deserves well of his
country; and never have any soldiers established a better claim on
the gratitude of their country than the soldiers of the Union. As a
nation, we have honored the men who achieved our independence: we
ought never to forget those who struck for home and native land,
when all that the heart holds dear was imperiled, and the very life
of the nation threatened by armed traitors.
If a man's acts are regarded as the exponents of his patriotism,
mine, I feel assured, will not be questioned, and yet at the same
time I feel at perfect liberty to honor kindness, truth, and
magnanimity in a foe; and wherever these are found, even in an
enemy, I shall not be slow to acknowledge it. Having now, as I
trust, established a good understanding between myself and readers,
I shall proceed to cultivate still further their acquaintance by
a free and unreserved statement of whatever may seem to be of
interest prior to my life in Libby.
Like thousands of my fellow-soldiers, I am a farmer's son. The
only college with which I have had any acquaintance is the
old-fashioned log school-house; and a few years ago I as little
dreamed of being an author as I did of being a soldier; my only
literary achievements heretofore have been sundry epistles to the
fairer portion of creation, and in that department I am not able to
declare positively that the pen is mightier than the sword, as I
rather incline to the opinion that few things have more influence
with that portion of humanity than soldierly bearing and a suit
of Federal blue. And had I rested my claims to their favor upon
authorship, I fear it would have proved but a broken reed. My
military career, however, I have not found to be an impediment, and
even an unsightly wound was not a deformity in the eyes of her who
was dearest to me.
You will be disappointed, kind reader, if you expect from me a
history of the causes of the war. I am not sufficiently skilled in
the political history of the country for such an undertaking, and,
indeed, there is no necessity for it, as it has already been done
by far abler hands than mine. Still, in a contest like the present,
every man should have reasons for his course, especially when that
course involves personal danger and sacrifices the greatest a man
can make--sacrifices which, if need require, must not stop short of
life itself.
My own reasons are those of thousands of others, but they are not
those of the mere politician; they are the reasons of the man and
the patriot who loves his country with an unselfish love, and loves
that country most, not in the days of peace and prosperity, but
when the clouds are darkest and perils and trials beset her round.
A milder, freer Government than ours the world never saw; we knew
not that we had a Government, by any burdens that it imposed upon
us; it was only by the constant flow of blessings we enjoyed that
we were conscious of its existence. Our history, though short, was
glorious; our future full of the brightest promise, and the hopes
of the toiling and oppressed millions of Europe were bound up in
our success.
Though not an adept in the theory of government, I could not be
blind to its practical workings; though no politician, I could
not be insensible of the manifold blessings which it secured.
I remembered the wisdom of those men who gave shape to our
institutions; I remembered the price at which independence was
purchased; I remembered that it was not without blood that those
blessings were gained; and now that all that the wisdom of a
Franklin, Hancock, and Adams had devised--all that for which a
Washington had fought, for which Warren had bled, was in jeopardy,
I felt that in such a cause, and for such a country, it would be
sweet even to die.
No love of war and bloodshed led me to the field; the charter of
our independence was sealed with blood, the very blessings of civil
and religious liberty which we enjoy I felt to be purchased by
noble lives freely given; and to preserve them for generations yet
to come I felt to be worth as great a sacrifice. God grant that
the effort may not be in vain! God grant that the fierce struggle
which has filled our land with weeping may be followed by all the
blessings of a lasting peace!
Under the influence of the sentiments just expressed, no sooner was
the flag of my country insulted, and an attempt made by bold, bad
men to pull down the fairest fabric ever devised by human wisdom
and cemented by patriot blood, than I determined to do my utmost to
uphold the starry banner; and seeking no position save that of one
of my country's defenders, I volunteered for three years. Nearly
one hundred young men, mostly from my own locality--Henry county,
Ky.--enrolled themselves at the same time, and became soldiers of
the Union. We all had much around us to render life pleasant, and
home dear; but the call of our country in her hour of need sounded
in our ears, and we could not permit her to call in vain. After
the organization of our regiment--the Sixth Kentucky Volunteer
Infantry--the young men from my part of the county selected me as
their captain, and I have had the honor of commanding Company H,
of the Sixth Kentucky Volunteer Infantry, till the present time.
I have been with that company in several of the bloodiest battles
of the war, and in a number of severe skirmishes; and having seen
its members time and again under the enemy's fire, I take pleasure
in saying that a better and braver band of men never shouldered
muskets or faced a foe upon the battle-plain. Indeed, the Sixth
Kentucky has a record of which it may well be proud; its steady
endurance in resisting an attack, and its fiery valor when hurling
its ranks on the foe, has covered it with well-deserved renown.
Shiloh, Stone River, and Mission Ridge have witnessed its prowess;
its ranks have been thinned in many a fierce and bloody assault,
and of those who yet follow its flag to victory, and of those who
fill a soldier's grave, it shall be said, they were heroes, every
one.
And yet it checks our exultation, brings tears to the eyes and
sadness to the heart to think of the sad ravages that war has
made in the ranks of those noble men. Where are they now? Some
have met death on the field, and fill unmarked graves far, far
from home; others escaped death on the field to perish by slow,
wasting disease in camp and hospital. Some, with mutilated limbs
and features disfigured with ghastly wounds, have sought the rest,
quiet, and sympathy of home; while others in rebel prisons drag
out a wretched existence, feeling all the pain and heart-sickness
of hope deferred. On earth many of them will meet no more; yet,
when the survivors meet in the years which are to come, when the
sounds of strife have ceased, they will speak in low tones of the
cherished dead, and drop a tear to their memory, and remember with
pride that they themselves were on many a well-fought field with
the Sixth Kentucky.