received reinforcements from Virginia, principally under
Breckinridge. Rosecrans, hastily assembling as large a command as
possible, determined to attack. On the last day of December, 1862, and
the first and second of January, 1863, these armies fought one of the
bloodiest battles of the war about two miles north of Murfreesboro
along Stone River.
General Rosecrans issued a confidential order for a general attack
by the whole army at eight o'clock, December 31st. Colonel Shepherd,
officer of the day for the whole army, rode the lines to see the
leading commanders were prepared to make the common assault on time.
I rode with Colonel Shepherd all night, and everything seemed to be
fairly understood, but General Bragg was informed, massed his troops
on the left and assaulted our whole right wing, commanded by General
McCook, capturing most of the batteries before the horses were
harnessed. Rousseau's reserve division and the regular brigade reserve
of his division were the first in our army seriously in action. I was
with Colonel Shepherd and General Rousseau when our right was crushed.
General Thomas excitedly ordered Rousseau to "put the regulars in the
cedars and drive those devils back." We thrust in our battery under
the protection of the cedar trees and rocks in time to check the
victorious Confederates, giving Rosecrans time to reform his routed
right and establish a new line.
That night Doctor Webster Lindsly and I, with the permission of the
Confederates, visited the field to care for the wounded, where I
carried Captain Mack to the hospital. I found a young man, mortally
wounded, a cannon ball having struck his abdomen. He said, "I know I
am going to die. Write my mother that you saw me here." I wrote down
his name and address, but I lost it. I have regretted it ever since,
especially as I could not remember the name.
During the first day our forces were worsted, our supply trains cut
off, and, the men carrying no rations, were hungry. Our entire right
wing was doubled back on the left, the enemy were in front and rear,
and the night was exceedingly cold. It was midnight before the
excitement and confusion abated sufficiently to allow the men a little
rest.
When I lay down, I rolled up in my saddle blanket near Captain R. L.
Morris, a personal and intimate friend. But I was not to sleep yet.
Colonel Shepherd sent me several miles to the rear with orders to
seize some unguarded wagons which were filled with hard bread and
bacon for the daybreak breakfast.
I folded my blanket, laid it on the ground and carried out the
instructions, bringing the wagons back with me. When I returned, my
blanket was missing.
The loss was discouraging, and I was cold, but as Morris said he knew
nothing of it, there was nothing to do but pass the night as best
I could. The next morning I noticed Morris had not only his saddle
blanket, but another, tied in a roll behind. I asked where he got it
and he retorted it was no concern of mine. I thought the circumstances
sufficient to warrant an explanation, and he became angry, exclaiming,
"Do you suppose I would steal your blanket, Mills?"
"No," I said, "I don't, but I would like you to untie your blanket and
let me examine it."
He untied it, and I showed him my initials worked in one corner with
yarn.
Laughing, he said, "Well, Mills, I give it up. That is your blanket.
Take it. I stole it, knowing government blankets were as alike as two
peas. I wouldn't steal under ordinary circumstances, but such a night
as last night would justify a man in doing anything to keep warm."
Bragg assembled half his army on our extreme left during the
night, intending to destroy our left as he had our right. General
Breckinridge crossed the river opposite our extreme left, expecting
to surprise us, but Rosecrans fortunately received notice and
concentrated five hundred pieces of artillery on our left, unknown to
Breckinridge.
The Confederates were literally cut to pieces with our artillery. On
the right we could see nothing, but heard the roar of cannon for at
least an hour, not knowing the result. Suddenly the firing ceased, we
heard a cheer and, crossing a ridge to our left a sergeant galloped
between the lines, carrying an inverted Confederate flag. Although
this sergeant was in easy gunshot of the Confederates, not a single
shot was fired at him.
The third day of the battle resulted decisively. Bragg retired toward
Chattanooga.
On September 19 and 20, Chickamauga, the most sanguinary battle of the
war, was fought. Here the regular brigade (one battalion each of the
15th, 16th and 19th, and two battalions of the 18th, with Battery H of
the 5th Artillery) lost over thirty-three per cent of their strength
in killed, wounded and missing, and during the fight, the battery
was taken by the Confederates, all the horses killed, but the guns
recaptured later on.
At the close of this battle, my company, the largest in the brigade,
was selected for picket duty to cover the brigade front. Lieutenant
Freeman, the adjutant, posted me close to the rebel lines. He rode
out a couple of hundred yards and was taken prisoner by rebel pickets
springing from behind trees, and sent to Libby Prison, from which he
escaped through a tunnel in time to join Sherman's army near the sea.
During the entire night our picket line was compelled to listen to the
shrieks and cries for water and help from the wounded and dying, who
lay immediately in front, but whom we were unable to assist, although
they were only a few hundred yards from us. Some time after midnight
an order came for a change in the position of the army, which moved
our brigade a mile and a half to another position. As Freeman was
absent, the regimental commander was unaware of the exact location of
my company; and, in the morning, hearing no noise from the location of
the regiment, I sent a sergeant to find out the cause. The sergeant
returned, reporting that the regiment and the troops adjoining had
abandoned the field, so I relieved my company and marched, following
the trails of the different regiments, and finally arrived at their
line of battle. I did not see Freeman again until on recruiting duty
at St. Louis.
Rosecrans was practically defeated at Chickamauga and retired to
Chattanooga, where Thomas concentrated his army for defense. Bragg
besieged the city with so large an army it was found necessary to
reinforce the Army of the Cumberland by the Army of the Tennessee,
under Grant and Sherman, and two divisions of the Army of the Potomac,
under Hooker.
General Thomas, who succeeded Rosecrans, was besieged and on half
rations for months, the Confederate cavalry cutting off supplies.
Finally there came the wonderful battle of Missionary Ridge, with
Grant commanding the whole army; Hooker, the right (Lookout Mountain);
Thomas, the center; and Sherman, the left. Hooker took Lookout during
the night, but neither army knew it until daylight. As the sun rose, a
bugle was sounded and a sergeant and three men presented to the breeze
a large American flag from the point of Lookout Mountain, announcing
the defeat of the Confederate Army. The whole Federal Army took up the
cheer that swept from right to left.
By ten o'clock, Thomas' army, numbering perhaps twenty thousand men,
was in battle line at the foot of Missionary Ridge, five hundred feet
high, well designed for defense. Three guns from Thomas' headquarters
was the signal for the whole line to charge.
Thomas' army stood for hours, with fixed bayonets, reflecting dazzling
sun rays to the Ridge.
At last we heard the signal and cheered as we charged. The
Confederates reserved their fire until we had passed up one-third
of the ridge, when they opened fire. Their guns were so depressed,
however, that the recoil destroyed their accuracy, and the shells
went over our heads. Finally my company arrived so close I heard one
of their gunners call out, "Half-second fuse," which meant that the
shell would explode one-half second after it left the gun. It seemed
difficult to believe that we could mount that rough mountain ridge and
drive the Confederates away from their five hundred pieces of cannon,
but no part of the line was ever halted. In half an hour the whole
Confederate line was in our possession.
After this defeat, Bragg retired towards Atlanta, to which we also
went.
At the battle of Jonesboro, near Atlanta, Captain Andy Burt and I
had many men wounded. Visiting these men in a large tent containing
perhaps seventy-five men, we found that certain Union Christian
Societies had pinned upon its white walls large placards reading, "Are
you prepared to die?" "Prepare to meet your God." As soon as Burt saw
these senseless signs, he tore them down, stamping them under his
feet, crying out, "Never say die, men! Never say die!" A badly wounded
sergeant of my regiment answered, "If more officers like this visited
us, there wouldn't be so many of us die!"
One of the most distinguished field batteries in the army was
raised by the Chicago Board of Trade. Commanded by a fine-looking
young German, Captain Dilger, this battery was given carte blanche
to proceed where it pleased to do the most destruction, and his
men seemed to be inspired with his own spirit and ambition. In his
buckskin suit he would ride about, seeking a place to set up his
battery to advantage. Dashing even beyond the skirmish lines, he would
go into action and do all the destruction he could before the enemy
could get his range, and as suddenly disappear.
At New Hope Church, Lieutenant Bisbee (now Brigadier General, retired)
and I, with our two companies, were on picket duty when Dilger's
battery passed through our lines and into action. Knowing the
Confederates would soon get his range, our men protected themselves
behind rocks and trees. Bisbee and I were behind a pine tree twenty
inches in diameter, when a solid shot cut the tree in two, throwing
us to the ground with splinters in our bodies. Neither of us was
seriously wounded, and we returned to duty in a few days.
The regular brigade was so depleted with losses, discharges and
failure to enlist that it was determined to send it while waiting
recruits to camp on Lookout Mountain, overlooking Chattanooga. As the
senior officer of the 18th Infantry, I marched it to the mountain for
indefinite encampment.
At this time General Steedman, with ten thousand men, was ordered to
defend Chattanooga in the apprehended march of Hood to Nashville.
Learning I was out of active service while my regiment recuperated,
Steedman called me to his staff as inspector general of his
provisional corps. When Hood avoided Chattanooga, we moved the whole
ten thousand men, reaching Nashville and joining Thomas just in time
to escape being cut off by Hood's army.
Hood, relieving Bragg, invested Nashville and, on December 16,
1864, the Battle of Nashville took place. Hood's retreat toward the
Cumberland River was disastrous, but floods saved his army. We were
unable to cross streams over which he had destroyed the bridges.
Thomas ordered Steedman to Murfreesboro to entrain ten thousand men
for Decatur, Alabama, to prevent Hood's crossing.
We halted Sunday morning at Huntsville to repair some small bridges.
While waiting, a bell began to ring for church services, and the
General suggested that we all attend. A dignified, gray-haired old
man mounted the pulpit, and began the services, bringing in with more
than necessary vehemence the prayer for Jeff Davis and all those in
authority. General Steedman, a man of intense passion combined with
the tenderest affection, was bitterly insulted, but he remained until
the services were completed. Retiring from the church, he arrested the
preacher and placed him under guard. He was the Reverend Dr. Ross of
Knoxville, Tennessee, who some years before had canvassed the Northern
States with Parson Bronlow in a political-religious discussion of
slavery. In that canvass Parson Bronlow took the side of slavery and
Dr. Ross the opposite. They had now each honestly changed their views
completely.
When the Doctor was brought in, the General exclaimed, passionately,
"Dr. Ross, have you no more respect for the authorities of the
Federal Government than to pray for Jeff Davis in their presence? If
you have no more respect, have you no more sense?"
The Doctor stood calmly and said, "I have more respect for my
conscientious convictions as a minister, my creed in religion, and my
God than I have for the authorities of the United States Government.
If I have committed any crime in your eyes, you have the power to
punish me; but I shall cheerfully accept any punishment you choose to
give me, even to death."
The General made no reply for some time, but finally said, "Very
well, sir; I will carry you along with the command as a prisoner."
The Doctor replied, "General, I am perfectly willing to go with your
command, but I am too old to march. I will do the best I can." He
appeared to be about sixty-five or seventy years old, quite gray and
rather feeble.
The General replied, "Very well, sir, I will give you
transportation--I will give you an ambulance, and" with some oaths,
"I will give you an escort of your own color." We had three brigades
of colored troops in the command, and the Doctor was of so dark a
complexion as almost to suggest a mixture of blood.
Dr. Ross was carried on the cars and, later, on an ambulance with
a colored escort. But General Steedman realized he had made a
mistake. When General Roddy (commanding the Confederates on our
front) requested an exchange of prisoners, General Steedman gave me
instructions to give Dr. Ross any military rank that would secure his
exchange. We had no difficulty in making the exchange, together with
many others.
When my regiment was withdrawn from active service to Lookout
Mountain, Tennessee, for reorganization, Lieutenant William H. Bisbee
was my adjutant.
The beauty and symmetry of his reports was marked, but some apparently
irrelevant figures excited my curiosity. Written in rather large
figures in bright red ink was, "S-T-1860-X." Asked why he had made
use of these particular letters and figures, he said he had copied
them from a manufacturer's trade-mark for "Hostetter's Bitters,"
which, translated, read, "Started trade in 1860 with $10.00." He had
noticed papers from Washington with red ink figures which he could
not understand, and so interspersed the notations throughout his own
reports, knowing that no one would understand them, but believing it
would be assumed to be the result of much study and care!
Sure enough, in due time Bisbee received a personal letter from the
Adjutant General of the Army, complimenting him on the most perfect
monthly returns ever submitted by any regular regiment.
The Confederates had a fort at Decatur, and we had some gunboats on
the river. General Steedman sent me at night to get such information
as the naval commander could give about Decatur and the Confederate
supplies supposed to be there. Employing a boatman to carry me to the
gunboat Burnsides, commanded by Lieutenant Moneau Forrest, I reported
myself staff officer from General Steedman, and asked the commander
whether he could assist us in crossing the river with the Federal
transports to take Decatur and its supplies. Learning he could protect
Steedman's crossing and could assemble enough transports to carry the
ten thousand men across in a short time, and would assault Decatur
with his gunboats, I reported to Steedman. He and his staff officers
crossed with his army in the early part of the day, leaving me on
the gunboat. He assaulted Decatur from the rear, while the gunboats
assaulted from the river.
This was my only naval engagement. Several men were lost, and the
missiles from the Confederate guns tore up the planks of the deck.
Decatur surrendered, and we had the supplies which Hood was unable to
take.
We pursued Hood's straggling army, the rear guard of which was
commanded by General Roddy, and on the 21st day of December, 1864,
after a lively chase in a drenching rain, arrived at "Swope's House,"
a plantation six miles from Courtland.
The general camped midway between the road and the house. We were wet,
and the General sent me to ask if the occupants of Swope's residence,
a large, typical Southern home, would permit us to enter.
When I knocked at the door a lady appeared, but she slammed the door
in my face! Reporting to the General, he excitedly called his staff to
follow, and rapped violently at the door. The same lady appearing, he
said to her, very sternly, "Madam, is there a man in this house?" She
replied quietly, "Yes."
"Tell him General Steedman wants to see him." In a few minutes a
gray-haired man, about seventy, asked us what was desired.
The General replied, "I sent one of my staff officers here to request
a simple courtesy, usually accorded foe as well as friend--simply to
warm by your fire. This officer was insulted by one of the ladies
in your house. You can prepare the fire yourself or I will have it
prepared for us."
Mr. Swope replied he would have it prepared as quickly as possible.
We visited some of the camps, and on our return found a cheerful fire
in the parlor. The room was bare of everything but chairs, everything
in the way of ornaments that could be stolen having been removed. But
the fire was comfortable, and we stayed until the orderly announced
our camp supper was ready.
A young man on our staff, Davis by name, was something of a ladies'
man. While we enjoyed the fire, he encountered a young lady in the
hall. Strange to say, the lady greeted him cordially--an unaccountable
thing to those men who approach the feminine sex with difficulty. They
laughed and joked, another lady appeared, and there was quite a gay
scene.
One of the ladies was Captain Swope's daughter, and the other a cousin
from Nashville. We had been there for some time, and as she had heard
nothing since the battle she was anxious for news from Nashville.
Returning to the house after supper, all the ornaments had been
returned to the parlor, curtains were hung, rugs and carpets down, the
center table had regained its cover, and was piled with books. Davis
introduced the ladies to the whole party.
Picking up an autograph album, I saw the signatures of Jeff Davis,
Beauregard, Bragg, and many prominent officers of the Confederacy.
Between the leaves was an order reading as follows:
"_Headquarters, District of the Etowah, In the Field, Swope's
House, Northern Alabama, December 21, 1864. Special Order
No.----._
"Immediately upon receipt of this order, Doctor----, in charge
of Post Hospital at Courtland, will deliver to Captain Swope
the basket of champagne seized in the express office by him on
yesterday. By order of General P. D. Roddy.
.....................
"_Adjutant General._"
The Generals of both armies commanded districts of the same name,
"Etowah." I turned the sheet over and wrote as follows:
"_Headquarters, District of the Etowah, In the Field, Swope's
House, Northern Alabama, December 22, 1864. Special Order
No.----._
"Immediately upon receipt of this order, Captain Swope,
Quartermaster in the Confederate Army, will turn over to Major
General Steedman and staff the basket of champagne recovered
from Doctor----, in charge of the Post Hospital at Courtland,
and mentioned on the opposite side of this paper.
"By order of Major General Steedman.
ANSON MILLS,
"_Captain, 18th Infantry, Inspector General_,
_District of the Etowah_."
Both the ladies eyed me intently. I laid the book on the table, and
one of the ladies picked it up and read the paper. She passed it to
her cousin, who also read it, and, after a short conference, they
went upstairs. Soon Mr. Swope entered, asking, "Can I speak with
Captain Mills?"
I announced myself and he said, "My dear sir: your order is good. I
would obey it with pleasure were it possible, but, unfortunately,
I was unable to recover the champagne. It was used in the hospital
before this order was presented to the doctor. I regret exceedingly
that I am unable to do so, for I realize the propriety, in case it
were possible."
By this time we were well established in good relations with the
family. Our evening passed as pleasantly there as anywhere during the
war, and we flattered ourselves the family was as reluctant to part
with us as we with them.
On the 23d of December we established headquarters at Courtland,
abandoning a vigorous pursuit of Hood. The next day in Steedman's
office, Oakly Bynam came in and greeted him as a fellow Mason, and
asked for help. He had bought several thousand bales of cotton,
which the Federal troops were destroying. He wanted a permit to
ship it to Louisville by the government vessels then in the river.
Steedman angrily told him that neither former friendship nor Masonic
brotherhood should influence him to aid one willing to play "Good
Lord, good devil" to either the Confederates or the Federals who might
be in control.
That night Mr. Bynam told me he had several thousand bales of cotton
worth a dollar and a half a pound in Louisville; and that, if the
soldiers burned it, it would ruin him; but that if I had sufficient
influence with General Thomas to allow it to be shipped north, he
would make a fortune and would divide it equally with me! Of course, I
declined, and most of the cotton was burned by Steedman's army.
[Illustration:
MAJOR GENERAL JAMES B. STEEDMAN.
BRIGADIER GENERAL O. L. SHEPHERD.
BRIGADIER GENERAL H. B. FREEMAN.
BRIGADIER GENERAL WM. H. BISBEE.
]
AFTER THE WAR
In February, 1865, the War Department detailed three officers from
each of the new regiments for recruiting service, selecting those who
had served longest during the war. I headed the list of my regiment,
and was sent successively to Toledo, Zanesville and St. Louis, where I
again met the former adjutant, Freeman. (He died recently, a brigadier
general.) He was also on recruiting duty, and we were both ordered to
Jefferson Barracks to reorganize our companies from the men we had
enlisted. Almost all of these were volunteers discharged in St. Louis.
I was ordered with my own and Company A, commanded by Lieutenant
Carpenter, to Fort Aubrey, Kansas, _via_ Leavenworth, to relieve two
companies of one-year Ohio volunteers, whose time had expired, and
who were near mutiny. I left St. Louis December 5, 1865. The weather
was so cold, and the supply train furnished me at Fort Leavenworth
so inadequate, that I seized and exchanged wagons and teams with a
quartermaster's train returning from Santa Fe. One of my men froze to
death on the journey, and several were severely frost-bitten.
I found the Walnut Fork of the Arkansas River impassable from floods,
and traveled without a trail from Fort Larned for three days, until I
could cross, thence moving south toward Fort Aubrey, as I supposed.
During the march a hostile band of Cheyenne Indians (called "dog
soldiers") under young Bent, a half-breed, attempted to surprise us.
Frustrated, they followed us into the Arkansas River, four miles above
Fort Dodge. The Indians asked for parley, during which I discovered a
captive American girl, who attempted to talk to me, but was silenced
by the chief. I was later instrumental, through the Indian agent,
Major Wyncoop, in securing the ransom of this girl, Mary Fletcher.
Leaving A Company at Fort Dodge, I took my own to Aubrey, where I
relieved the Ohio volunteers. I remained until April, relieving the
monotony by killing some of the buffalo which covered the whole
country, riding a spirited horse which could overtake any buffalo.
My company clerk was Henry Garrells, an excellent penman and
accountant, but so near-sighted I had to get special permission to
enlist him. He was not only the most unprepossessing man I ever
saw, but one of the most troublesome drunkards in the army. He got
drunk periodically, generally selecting a time when urgency in the
preparation of company papers was most desired. When under the
influence of liquor, he was absolutely uncontrollable, requiring two
or three men to keep him from violence. When sober, he was one of the
mildest mannered men I ever saw.