A Zanesville paper published the letter. When the boys of his company
read it they obtained spades, called on the soldier who had drawn so
heavily on the credulity of his friends, and told him they had come to
bury the dead. The poor fellow protested, apologized, and excused
himself as best he could, but all to no purpose. He is never likely to
hear the last of it.
I am reminded that when coming from Bellaire to Fetterman, a soldier
doing guard duty on the railroad said that a few mornings before he had
gone out, killed two secessionists who were just sitting down to
breakfast, and then eaten the breakfast himself.
AUGUST, 1861.
1. It is said the pickets of the Fourteenth Indiana and the enemy's
cavalry came in collision to-day, and that three of the latter were
killed.
It is now 9 P. M. Sergeants are calling the roll for the last time
to-night. In half an hour taps will be sounded and the lights
extinguished in every private's tent. The first call in the morning,
reveille, is at five; breakfast call, six; surgeon's call, seven; drill,
eight; recall, eleven; dinner, twelve; drill again at four; recall,
five; guard-mounting, half-past five; first call for dress-parade, six;
second call, half-past six; tattoo at nine, and taps at half-past. So
the day goes round.
Hardee for a month or more was a book of impenetrable mysteries. The
words conveyed no idea to my mind, and the movements described were
utterly beyond my comprehension; but now the whole thing comes almost
without study.
2. Jerrolaman went out this afternoon and picked nearly a peck of
blackberries. Berries of various kinds are very abundant. The fox-grape
is also found in great plenty, and as big as one's thumb.
The Indianians are great ramblers. Lieutenant Bell says they can be
traced all over the country, for they not only eat all the berries, but
nibble the thorns off the bushes.
General Reynolds told me, this evening, he thought it probable we would
be attacked soon. Have been distributing ammunition, forty rounds to the
man.
My black horse was missing this morning. Conway looked for him the
greater part of the day, and finally found him in possession of an
Indiana captain. It happened in this way: Captain Rupp, Thirteenth
Indiana, told his men he would give forty dollars for a _sesesh_ horse,
and they took my horse out of the pasture, delivered it to him, and got
the money. He rode the horse up the valley to Colonel Wagner's station,
and when he returned bragged considerably over his good luck; but about
dark Conway interviewed him on the subject, when a change came o'er the
spirit of his dream. Colonel Sullivan tells me the officers now talk to
Rupp about the fine points of his horse, ask to borrow him, and desire
to know when he proposes to ride again.
A little group of soldiers are sitting around a camp-fire, not far away,
entertaining each other with stories and otherwise. Just now one of them
lifts up his voice, and in a melancholy strain sings:
Somebody ---- "is weeping
For gallant Andy Gay,
Who now in death lies sleeping
On the field of Monterey."
While I write he strikes into another air, and these are the words as I
catch them:
"Come back, come back, my purty fair maid!
Ten thousand of my _jinture_ on you I will bestow
If you'll consent to marry me;
Oh, do not say me no."
But the maid is indifferent to _jintures_, and replies indignantly:
"Oh, hold your tongue, captain, your words are all in vain;
I have a handsome sweetheart now across the main,
And if I do not find him I'll mourn continuali."
More of this interesting dialogue between the captain and the pretty
fair maid I can not catch.
The sky is clear, but the night very dark. I do not contemplate my ride
to the picket posts with any great degree of pleasure. A cowardly
sentinel is more likely to shoot at you than a brave one. The fears of
the former do not give him time to consider whether the person advancing
is friend or foe.
3. We hear of the enemy daily. Colonel Kimball, on the mountain, and
Colonel Wagner, up the valley, are both in hourly expectation of an
attack. The enemy, encouraged by his successes at Manassas, will
probably attempt to retrieve his losses in Western Virginia.
4. At one o'clock P. M. General Reynolds sent for me. Two of Colonel
Wagner's companies had been surrounded, and an attack on Wagner's
position expected to-night. The enemy reported three thousand strong.
He desired me to send half of my regiment and two of Loomis' guns to the
support of Wagner. I took six companies and started up the valley.
Reached Wagner's quarters at six o'clock. Brought neither tents nor
provisions, and to-night will turn in with the Indianians.
It is true that the enemy number three thousand; the main body being ten
or fifteen miles away. Their pickets and ours, however, are near each
other; but General Reynolds was misinformed as to two of Wagner's
companies. They had not been surrounded.
To-morrow Colonel Wagner and I will make a reconnoissance, and ascertain
if the rebels are ready to fight. Wagner has six hundred and fifty men
fit for duty, and I have four hundred. Besides these, we have three
pieces of artillery. Altogether, we expect to be able to hoe them a
pretty good row, if they should advance on us. Four of the enemy were
captured to-day. A company of cavalry is approaching. "Halt! who comes
there?" cries the sentinel. "Lieutenant Denny, without the countersign."
"All right," shouts Colonel Wagner, "let him come." I write with at
least four fleas hopping about on my legs.
5. To-day we felt our way up the valley eight miles, but did not reach
the rebels.
To-night our pickets were sure they heard firing off in the direction of
Kanawha. If so, Cox and Wise must be having a pleasant little
interchange of lead.
The chaplain of the Thirteenth Indiana is the counterpart of Scott's
Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst, or the fighting friar of the times of Robin
Hood. In answer to some request he has just said that he will "go to
thunder before doing it." The first time I saw this fighting parson was
at the burnt bridge near Huttonville. He had two revolvers and a hatchet
in his belt, and appeared more like a firebrand of war than a minister
of peace. I now hear the rough voice of a braggadocio captain in the
adjoining tent, who, if we may believe his own story, is the most
formidable man alive. His hair-breadth escapes are innumerable, and his
anxiety to get at the enemy is intense. Is it not ancient Pistol come
again to astonish the world by deeds of reckless daring?
We have sent out a scouting party, and hope to learn something more of
the rebels during the night. Wagner, Major Wood, Captain Abbott, and
others are having a game of whist.
6. Our camp equipage came up to-day, so that we are now in our own
tents.
Four of my companies are on picket, scattered up the valley for miles,
and half of the other two are doing guard duty in the neighborhood of
the camp. I do not, by any means, approve of throwing out such heavy
pickets and scattering our men so much. We are in the presence of a
force probably twice as large as our own, and should keep our troops
well in hand.
Our scouts have been busy; but, although they have brought in a few
prisoners, mostly farmers residing in the vicinity of the enemy's camp,
we have obtained but little information respecting the rebels. I intend
to send out a scouting party in the morning. Lieutenant Driscoll will
command it. He is a brave, and, I think, prudent officer, and will leave
camp at four o'clock, follow the road six miles, then take to the
mountains, and endeavor to reach a point where he can overlook the enemy
and estimate his strength.
7. The scouting party sent out this morning were conveyed by wagons six
miles up the valley, and were to take to the mountains, half a mile
beyond. I instructed Lieutenant Driscoll to exercise the utmost caution,
and not take his men further than he thought reasonably safe. Of course
perfect safety is not expected. Our object, however, is to get
information, not to give it by losing the squad.
At eleven o'clock a courier came in hot haste from the front, to inform
us that a flag of truce, borne by a Confederate major, with an escort of
six dragoons, was on the way to camp. Colonel Wagner and I rode out to
meet the party, and were introduced to Major Lee, the son, as I
subsequently ascertained, of General Robert E. Lee, of Virginia. The
Major informed us that his communication could only be imparted to our
General, and a courier was at once dispatched to Huttonville.
At four o'clock General Reynolds arrived, accompanied by Colonel
Sullivan and a company of cavalry. Wagner and I joined the General's
party, and all galloped to the outpost, to interview the Confederate
major. His letter contained a proposition to exchange prisoners captured
by the rebels at Manassas for those taken at Rich mountain. The General
appointed a day on which a definite answer should be returned, and Major
Lee, accompanied by Lieutenant-Colonel Owen and myself, rode to the
outlying picket station, where his escort had been halted and detained.
Major Lee is near my own age, a heavy set, but well-proportioned man,
somewhat inclined to boast, not overly profound, and thoroughly
impregnated with the idea that he is a Virginian and a Lee withal. As I
shook hands at parting with this scion of an illustrious house, he
complimented me by saying that he hoped soon to have the honor of
meeting me on the battle-field. I assured him that it would afford me
pleasure, and I should make all reasonable efforts to gratify him in
this regard. I did not desire to fight, of course, but I was bound not
to be excelled in the matter of knightly courtesy.
8. Major Wood, Fifteenth Indiana, thought he heard chopping last night,
and imagined that the enemy was engaged in cutting a road to our rear.
Lieutenant Driscoll and party returned to-day. They slept on the
mountains last night; were inside the enemy's picket lines; heard
reveille sounded this morning, but could not obtain a view of the camp.
Have just returned from a sixteen-mile ride, visiting picket posts. The
latter half of the ride was after nightfall. Found officers and men
vigilant and ready to meet an attack.
Obtained some fine huckleberries and blackberries on the mountain
to-day. Had a blackberry pie and pudding for dinner. Rather too much
happiness for one day; but then the crust of the pudding was tolerably
tough. The grass is a foot high in parts of my tent, where it has not
been trodden down, and the gentle grasshopper makes music all the day,
and likewise all the night.
Our fortifications are progressing slowly. If the enemy intends to
attack at all, he will probably do so before they are complete; and if
he does not, the fortifications will be of no use to us. But this is the
philosophy of a lazy man, and very similar to that of the Irishman who
did not put roof on his cabin: when it rained he could not, and in fair
weather he did not need it.
9. Pickets report firing, artillery and musketry, over the mountain, in
the direction of Kimball.
The enemy's scouts were within three miles of our camp this afternoon,
evidently looking for a path that would enable them to get to our rear.
Fifty men have just been sent in pursuit; but owing to a little
misunderstanding of instructions, I fear the expedition will be
fruitless. Colonel Wagner neither thinks clearly nor talks with any
degree of exactness. He has a loose, slip-shod, indefinite way with him,
that tends to confusion and leads to misunderstandings and trouble.
I have been over the mountain on our left, hunting up the paths and
familiarizing myself with the ground, so as to be ready to defeat any
effort that may be made to turn our flank. Colonel Owen has been
investigating the mountain on our right. The Colonel is a good thinker,
an excellent conversationalist, and a very learned man. Geology is his
darling, and he keeps one eye on the enemy, and the other on the rocks.
10. My tent is on the bank of the Valley river. The water, clear as
crystal, as it hurries on over the rocks, keeps up a continuous murmur.
There will be a storm to-night. The sky is very dark, the wind rising,
and every few minutes a vivid flash of lightning illuminates the valley,
and the thunder rolls off among the mountains with a rumbling, echoing
noise, like that which the gods might make in putting a hundred trains
of celestial artillery in position.
11. Lieutenant Bowen, of topographical engineers, and myself, with ten
men, carrying axes and guns, started up the mountain at seven o'clock
this morning, followed a path to the crest, or dividing ridge, and
felled trees to obstruct the way as much as possible. Returned to camp
for dinner.
During the afternoon Lieutenant W. O. Merrill, Lieutenant Bowen, and I,
ascended the mountain again by a new route. After reaching the crest, we
endeavored to find the path which Lieutenant Bowen and I had traveled
over in the morning, but were unable to do so. We continued our search
until it became quite dark, when the two engineers, as well as myself,
became utterly bewildered. Finally, Lieutenant Merrill took out his
pocket compass, and said the camp was in that direction, pointing with
his hand. I insisted he was wrong; that he would not reach camp by
going that way. He insisted that he would, and must be governed by some
general principles, and so started off on his own hook, leaving us to
pursue our own course. Finally Bowen lost confidence in me, said I was
not going in the right direction at all, and insisted that we should
turn squarely around, and go the opposite way. At last I yielded with
many misgivings, and allowed him to lead. After going down a thousand
feet or more, we found ourselves in a ravine, through which a small
stream of water flowed. Following this, we finally reached the valley.
We knew now exactly where we were, and by wading the river reached the
road, and so got to camp at nine o'clock at night.
Merrill, who was governed by general principles, failed to strike the
camp directly, strayed three or four miles to the right of it, came down
in Stewart's run valley, and did not reach camp until about midnight.
On our trip to-day, we found a bear trap, made of heavy logs, the lid
arranged to fall when the bear entered and touched the bait.
12. This is the fourth day that Captain Cunard's company has been lying
in the woods, three miles from camp, guarding an important road,
although a very rough and rugged one. Companies upon duty like this,
remain at their posts day and night, good weather and bad, without any
shelter, except that afforded by the trees, or by little booths
constructed of logs and branches. From the main station, where the
captain remains, sub-pickets are sent out in charge of sergeants and
corporals, and these often make little houses of logs, which they cover
with cedar boughs or branches of laurel, and denominate forts. In the
wilderness, to-day, I stumbled upon Fort Stiner, the head-quarters of a
sub-picket commanded by Corporal William Stiner, of the Third. The
Corporal and such of his men as were off duty, were sitting about a
fire, heating coffee and roasting slices of fat pork, preparing thus the
noonday meal.
13. At noon Colonel Marrow, Major Keifer, and I, took dinner with
Esquire Stalnaker, an old-style man, born fifty years ago in the log
house where he now lives. Two spinning-wheels were in the best room, and
rattled away with a music which carried me back to the pioneer days of
Ohio. A little girl of five or six years stole up to the wheel when the
mother's back was turned, and tried her skill on a roll. How proud and
delighted she was when she had spun the wool into a long, uneven thread,
and secured it safely on the spindle. Surely, the child of the palace,
reared in the lap of luxury and with her hands in the mother's
jewel-box, could not have been happier or more triumphant in her
bearing.
These West Virginians are uncultivated, uneducated and rough, and need
the common school to civilize and modernize them. Many have never seen a
railroad, and the telegraph is to them an incomprehensible mystery.
Governor Dennison has appointed a Mr. John G. Mitchell, of Columbus,
adjutant of the Third.
14. Privates Vincent and Watson, sentinels of a sub-picket, under
command of Corporal Stiner, discovered a man stealing through the woods,
and halted him. He professed to be a farm hand; said his employer had a
mountain farm not far away, where he pastured cattle. A two-year-old
steer had strayed off, and he was looking for him. His clothes were
fearfully torn by brush and briars. His hands and face were scratched by
thorns. He had taken off his boots to relieve his swollen feet, and was
carrying them in his hands. Imitating the language and manners of an
uneducated West Virginian, he asked the sentinel if he "had seed
anything of a red steer." The sentinel had not. After continuing the
conversation for a time, he finally said: "Well, I must be a goin'; it
is a gettin' late, and I am durned feared I won't git back to the farm
afore night. Good day." "Hold on," said the sentinel; "better go and see
the Captain." "O, no; don't want to trouble him; it is not likely he has
seed the steer, and it's a gettin' late." "Come right along," replied
the sentinel, bringing his gun down; "the Captain will not mind being
troubled; in fact, I am instructed to take such men as you to him."
Captain Cunard questioned the prisoner closely, asked whom he worked
for, how much he was getting a month for his services, and, finally,
pointing to the long-legged military boots which he was still holding in
his hands, asked how much they cost. "Fifteen dollars," replied the
prisoner. "Fifteen dollars! Is not that rather more than a farm hand who
gets but twelve dollars a month can afford to pay for boots?" inquired
the Captain. "Well, the fact is, boots is a gettin' high since the war,
as well as every thing else." But Captain Cunard was not satisfied. The
prisoner was not well up in the character he had undertaken to play, and
was told that he must go to head-quarters. Finding that he was caught,
he at once threw off the mask, and confessed that he was Captain J. A.
De Lagniel, formerly of the regular army, but now in the Confederate
service. Wounded at the battle of Rich mountain, he had been secreted at
a farm-house near Beverly until able to travel, and was now trying to
get around our pickets and reach the rebel army. He had been in the
mountains five days and four nights. The provisions with which he
started, and which consisted of a little bag of biscuit, had become
moldy. He thought, from the distance traveled, that he must be beyond
our lines and out of danger.
De Lagniel is an educated man, and his wife and friends believe him to
have been killed at Rich mountain. He speaks in high terms of Captain
Cunard, and says, when the latter began to question him, he soon found
it was useless to play Major Andre, for Paulding was before him, too
sharp to be deceived and too honest to be bribed. When De Lagniel was
brought into camp he was wet and shivering, weak, and thoroughly broken
down by starvation, cold, exposure, and fatigue. The officers supplied
him with the clothing necessary to make him comfortable.
15. I have a hundred axmen in my charge, felling timber on the
mountain, and constructing rough breastworks to protect our left flank.
General Reynolds came up to-day to see De Lagniel. They are old
acquaintances, were at West Point together, and know each other like
brothers.
The irrepressible Corporal Casey, who, in fact, had nothing whatever to
do with the capture of De Lagniel, is now surrounded by a little group
of soldiers. He is talking to them about the prisoner, who, since it is
known that he is an acquaintance of General Reynolds, has become a
person of great importance in the camp. The Corporal speaks in the
broadest Irish brogue, and is telling his hearers that he knew the
fellow was a _sesesh_ at once; that he leveled his musket at him and
towld him to halt; that if he hadn't marched straight up to him he would
have put a minnie ball through his heart; that he had his gun cocked and
his finger on the trigger, and was a mind to shoot him anyway. Then he
tells how he propounded this and that question, which confused the
prisoner, and finally concludes by saying that De Lagniel might be d--d
thankful indade that he escaped with his life.
The Corporal is the best-known man in the regiment. He prides himself
greatly on the Middle Fork "skrimage." A day or two after that affair,
and at a time when whisky was so scarce that it was worth its weight in
gold, some officers called the Corporal up and asked him to give them an
account of the "skrimage." Before he entered upon the subject, it was
suggested that Captain Dubois, who had the little whisky there was in
the party, should give him a taste to loosen his tongue. The Corporal,
nothing loth, took the flask, and, raising it to his mouth, emptied it,
to the utter dismay of the Captain and his friends. The dhrap had the
effect desired. The Corporal described, with great particularity, his
manner of going into action, dwelt with much emphasis on the
hand-to-hand encounters, the thrusts, the parries, the final clubbing of
the musket, and the utter discomfiture and mortal wounding of his
antagonist. In fact by this time there were two of them; and finally, as
the fight progressed, a dozen or more bounced down on him. It was
lively! There was no time for the loading of guns. Whack, thump, crack!
The head of one was broken, another lay dying of a bayonet thrust, and
still another had perished under the sledge-hammer blow of his fist. The
ground was covered now with the slain. He stood knee-deep in secesh
blood; but a bugle sounded away off on the hills, and the d--d
scoundrels who were able to get away ran off as fast as their legs could
carry them. Had they stood up like men he would have destroyed the whole
regiment; for, you see, he was just getting his hand in. "But,
Corporal," inquired Captain Hunter, "what were the other soldiers of
your company doing all this time?" "Bless your sowl, Captain, and do you
think I had nothing to do but to watch the boys? Be jabers, it was a day
when every man had to look after himself."
16. The opinion seems to be growing that the rebels do not intend to
attack us. They have put it off too long.
A scouting party will start out in the morning, under the guidance of
"old Leather Breeches," a primitive West Virginian, who has spent his
life in the mountains. His right name is Bennett. He wears an antiquated
pair of buckskin pantaloons, and has a cabin-home on the mountain,
twelve miles away.
A tambourine is being played near by, and Fox, with a heart much lighter
than his complexion, is indulging in a double shuffle.
There are many snakes in the mountains: rattlesnakes, copperheads,
blacksnakes, and almost every other variety of the snake kind; in short,
the boys have snake on the brain. To-day one of the choppers made a
sudden grab for his trouser leg; a snake was crawling up. He held the
loathsome reptile tightly by the head and body, and was fearfully
agitated. A comrade slit down the leg of the pantaloon with a knife,
when lo! an innocent little roll of red flannel was discovered.
The boys are very liberal in the bestowal of titles. Colonel Hogseye is
indebted to them for his commission. The Colonel commands an ax just
now. Ordinarily he carries a musket, sleeps and dines with his
subordinates, and is not above traveling on foot.
Fox's real name, I ascertained lately, is William Washington. His
brother, now in the service of the surgeon, is called Handsome, and
Colonel Marrow's servant is known by the boys as the Bay Nigger.
17. Was awakened this morning at one o'clock, by a soldier in search of
a surgeon. One of our pickets had been wounded. The post was on the
river bank. The sentinel saw a man approaching on the opposite side of
the river, challenged, and saw him level his gun. Both fired. The
sentinel was wounded in the leg by a small squirrel bullet. The other
man was evidently wounded, for after it became light enough he was
traced half a mile by blood on the ground, weeds, and leaves. The
surgeon is of the opinion that the ball struck his left arm. From
information obtained this morning, it is believed this man is secreted
not many miles away. A party of ten has been sent to look for him.