The latter is the property of Augustus Cæsar, the esquire of Adjutant
Wilson. Cæsar restrains the opossum with a string, and looks forward
with great pleasure to the time when he will be fat enough to eat. The
coons are just now playing on the wild cherry tree in front of my tent,
and several colored boys are watching them with great interest. One of
these, a native Alabamian, tells me "de coon am a great fiter; he can
wip a dog berry often; but de possum can wip de coon, for he jist takes
one holt on de coon, goes to sleep, an' nebber lets go; de coon he
scratch an' bite, but de possum he nebber min'; he keeps his holt, shuts
his eyes, and bimeby de coon he knocks under. De she coon am savager dan
de he coon. I climbed a tree onct, an' de she coon come out ob her hole
mitey savage, an' I leg go, an' tumbled down to de groun', and like ter
busted my head. De she coon am berry savage. De possum can't run berry
fast, but de coon can run faster'n a dog. You can tote a possum, but you
can't tote a coon, he scratch an' bite so."
The gentlemen of the South have a great fondness for jewelry, canes,
cigars, and dogs. Out of forty white men thirty-nine, at least, will
have canes, and on Sunday the fortieth will have one also. White men
rarely work here. There are, it is true, tailors, merchants, saddlers,
and jewelers, but the whites never drive teams, work in the fields, or
engage in what may be termed rough work.
Judging from the number of stores and present stocks, Huntsville, in the
better times, does a heavier retail jewelry business than Cleveland or
Columbus. Every planter, and every wealthy or even well-to-do man, has
plate. Diamonds, rings, gold watches, chains, and bracelets are to be
found in every family. The negroes buy large amounts of cheap jewelry,
and the trade in this branch is enormous. One may walk a whole day in a
Northern city without seeing a ruffled shirt. Here they are very common.
The case of Colonel Mihalotzy was concluded to-day.
5. General Ammen was a teacher for years at West Point, at Natchez,
Mississippi, in Kentucky, Indiana, and recently at Ripley, Ohio. He has
devoted particular attention to the education of children, and has no
confidence in the usual mode of teaching them. He labors to strengthen
or cultivate, first: _attention_, and to this end never allows their
interest in anything to flag; whenever he discovers that their minds
have become weary of a subject, he takes the book from them and turns
their thought in a new direction. Nor does he allow their attention to
be divided between two or three objects at the same time. By his method
they acquire the power to concentrate their whole mind upon a given
subject. The next thing to be cultivated is _observation_; teach them to
notice whatever may be around, and describe it. What did you see when
you came up street? The child may answer a pig. What is a pig, how did
it look, describe it. Saw a man, did you? Was he large or small? How was
he dressed? A room? What is a room? Thus will they be taught to observe
everything, and to talk about what they observe, and learn not only to
think but to express their thoughts. He often amuses them by what he
terms opposites. To illustrate: He will say "black," the child will
answer "white." Long, short; good, bad; heavy, light; dark, light.
"What kind of light," he will ask, "is that kind which is the opposite
of heavy?" Here is a puzzle for them. Next in importance to observation,
and to be strengthened at the same time, is the _memory_. They are
required to learn little pieces; short stories perhaps, or songs that
their minds can comprehend; not too long, for neither the memory nor the
attention should be overtaxed.
7. As General Ammen and I were returning to camp this evening, we were
joined by Colonel Fry, of General Buell's staff, who informed us that
General Robert McCook was murdered, near Winchester, yesterday, by a
small band of guerrillas. McCook was unwell, riding in an ambulance some
distance in advance of the column; while stopping in front of a
farm-house to make some enquiry, the guerrillas made a sudden dash, the
escort fled, and McCook was killed while lying in the ambulance
defenseless. When the Dutchmen of his old regiment learned of the
unfortunate occurrence they became uncontrollable, and destroyed the
buildings and property on five plantations near the scene of the murder.
McCook had recently been promoted for gallantry at Mill Springs. He was
a brave, bluff, talented man, and his loss will be sorely felt.
Captain Mitchell started home in charge of a recruiting party this
morning. I am anxious to fill the regiment to a thousand strong.
8. General Ammen was at Buell's quarters this evening, and ascertains
that hot work is expected soon. The enemy is concentrating a heavy
force between Bridgeport and Chattanooga.
The night is exceedingly beautiful; our camp lies at the foot of a low
range of mountains called the Montesano; the sky seems supported by
them. A cavalry patrol is just coming down the road, on its return to
camp, and the men are singing:
"An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain,
Oh! give me my lowly thatched cottage again;
The birds singing gayly, that came at my call,
Give me them, with the peace of mind dearer than all.
Home, home, sweet home, there is no place like home;
There is no place like home."
9. I have sometimes wondered how unimportant occurrences could suggest
so much, but the faculty of association brings similar things before the
mind, and a thousand collateral subjects as well. The band of the Tenth
Ohio is playing. Where, and under what circumstances, have I heard other
bands? The question carries my thoughts into half the States of the
Union, into a multitude of places, into an innumerable variety of
scenes--faces, conversations, theatres, balls, speeches, songs--the
chain is endless, and it might be followed for a lifetime.
10. The enemy, a thousand strong, is said to be within five miles of us.
One hundred and sixty-five men of the Third, under Major Lawson, and
five companies of cavalry, the whole commanded by Colonel Kennett, left
at two o'clock to reconnoiter the front; they will probably go to the
river unless the enemy is met on the way.
A negro came in about four o'clock to report that the enemy's pickets
were at his master's house, five miles from here, at the foot of the
other slope of the mountain. He was such an ignorant fellow that his
report was hardly intelligible. We sent him back, telling him to bring
us more definite information. He was a field hand, bare-footed,
horny-handed, and very black, but he knew all about "de mountings; dey
can't kotch him nohow. If de sesesh am at Massa Bob's when I git back, I
come to-night an' tell yer all." With these words, this poor proprietor
of a dilapidated pair of pants and shirt, started over the mountains.
What are his thoughts about the war, and its probable effects on his own
fortunes, as he trudges along over the hills? Is it the desire for
freedom, or the dislike for his overseer, that prompts him to run five
miles of a Sunday to give this information? Possibly both.
Cæsar said to the Adjutant, "Massa Wilson, may I go to church?" "What do
you want to go church for, Cæsar?" "To hear de Gospel." One day Cæsar
said to me, "Co'nel, you belongs to de meetin don't you?" "Why so,
Cæsar?" "Kase I nebber heard you swar any."
To-day one of the pet coons got after a chicken. A young half-naked
negro took after the coon; and a long and crooked chase the chicken,
coon, and negro had of it.
12. At five o'clock the members of the court met to say good-by, and
drink a dozen bottles of Scotch ale at General Ammen's expense. This was
quite a spree for the General, and quite his own spree. It was a big
thing, equal almost to the battle of "Shealoh." They were pint bottles,
and the General would persist in acting upon the theory that one bottle
would fill all our glasses. Seeing the glasses empty he would call for
another bottle, and say to us, "Gentlemen, I have ordered another
bottle." The General evidently drinks, when he imbibes at all, simply to
be social, and a thimble-full would answer his purpose as well as a
barrel.
The court called on General Buell; he is cold, smooth-toned, silent, the
opposite of Nelson, who is ardent, loud-mouthed, and violent.
17. Colonel Keifer has just received a telegram informing him that he
has been appointed Colonel of the One Hundred and Tenth Ohio. I regret
his departure too much to rejoice over his promotion. He has been a
faithful officer, always prompt and cheerful; much better qualified to
command the regiment than its Colonel.
Watermelons, peaches, nectarines, are abundant. Peaches thrive better in
this climate than apples. I have eaten almost the whole of a watermelon
to-day, and am somewhat satiated. The melon had a cross (+) on the rind.
I enquired of the negro who brought it in, what the mark meant, and he
replied, "de patch war owned principally by a good many niggars, sah,
an' dey dewided dem afore day got ripe, an' put de mark on de rine, to
show dat de p'tic'lar melon belonged to a p'tic'lar niggar, sah."
Governor Tod is damaging the old regiments by injudicious promotions. He
does in some instances, it is true, reward faithful soldiers; but often
complaining, unwilling, incompetent fellows are promoted, who get upon
the sick list to avoid duty; lay upon their backs when they should be on
their feet, and are carousing when they should be asleep. On the march,
instead of pushing along resolutely at the head of their command, they
fall back and get into an ambulance. The troops have no confidence in
them; their presence renders a whole company worthless, and this company
contributes greatly to the demoralization of a regiment.
22. A little vine has crept into my tent and put out a handsome flower.
General Buell and staff, with bag and baggage, left this morning.
25. Ordered to move.
29. We are at Decherd, Tennessee. I am weak, discouraged, and worn out
with idleness.
The negroes are busily engaged throwing up earth works and building
stockades. To-night, as they were in line, I stopped a moment to hear
the sergeant call the roll, "Scipio McDonald." "Here I is, sah."
"Cæsar--Cæsar McDonald." "Cæsar was 'sleep las' I saw ob him, sah."
These negroes take the family name of their masters.
The whole army is concentrated here, or near here; but nobody knows
anything, except that the water is bad, whisky scarce, dust abundant,
and the air loaded with the scent and melody of a thousand mules. These
long-eared creatures give us every variety of sound of which they are
capable, from the deep bass bray to the most attenuated whinny.
The Thirty-third Ohio was shelled out of its fortifications at Battle
creek yesterday. Colonel Moore is in the adjoining tent, giving an
account of his trials and tribulations to Shanks of the New York Herald.
Fifty of the Third, under Lieutenant Carpenter, went to Stevenson
yesterday; on their return they were fired upon by guerrillas. Jack
Boston shot a man and captured a horse.
SEPTEMBER, 1862.
4. Army has fallen back to Murfreesboro.
5. At Nashville.
6. To-night we cross the Cumberland.
7. Bivouacked in Edgefield, at the north end of the railroad bridge.
Troops pouring over the bridge and pushing North rapidly. One of Loomis'
men was shot dead last night while attempting to run by a sentinel.
10. The moving army with its immense transportation train, raises such a
cloud of dust that it is impossible to see fifty yards ahead.
11. Arrived at Bowling Green. The two armies are running a race for the
Ohio river. At this time Bragg has the lead.
OCTOBER, 1862.
3. At Taylorsville, Kentucky. Our first day's march out of Louisville
was disagreeable beyond precedent. The boys had been full of whisky for
three days, and fell out of the ranks by scores. The road for sixteen
miles was lined with stragglers. The new men bore the march badly. Rain
fell yesterday afternoon and during the night; I awoke at three o'clock
this morning to find myself lying in a puddle of water. A soldier of
Captain Rossman's company was wrestling with another, and being thrown,
died almost instantly from the effect of the fall.
4. At Bloomfield. Shelled the rebels out of the woods in which we are
now bivouacking, and picked up a few prisoners. The greater part of the
rebel army is, we are told, at Bardstown--twelve miles away.
5. Still at Bloomfield, in readiness to move at a moment's notice.
7. Moved to Maxville, and bivouacked for the night.
PERRYVILLE.
8. Started in the early morning toward Perryville. The occasional boom
of guns at the front notified us that the enemy was not far distant. A
little later the rattle of musketry mingled with the roar of artillery,
and we knew the vanguard was having lively work. The boys marched well
and were in high spirits; the long-looked for battle appeared really
near, and that old notion that the Third was fated never to see a fight
seemed now likely to be exploded. At ten o'clock we were hastened
forward and placed in battle line on the left of the Maxville and
Perryville road; the cavalry in our front appeared to be seriously
engaged, and every eye peered eagerly through the woods to catch a
glimpse of the enemy. But in a little while the firing ceased, and with
a feeling of disappointment the boys lounged about on the ground and
logs awaiting further orders.
They came very soon. At 11 A. M. the Third was directed to take the head
of the column and move forward. We anticipated no danger, for Rousseau
and his staff were in advance of us, followed by Lytle and his staff.
The regiment was marching by the flank, and had proceeded to the brow of
the hill overlooking a branch of the Chaplin river, and was about to
descend into the valley, when the enemy's artillery opened in front with
great fury. Rousseau and his staff wheeled suddenly out of the road to
the left, accompanied by Lytle. After a moment spent by them in
consultation, I was ordered to countermarch my regiment to the bottom of
the hill we had just ascended, and file off to the right of the road.
Loomis' and Simonson's Batteries were soon put in position, and began
to reply to the enemy. A furious interchange of shell and solid shot
occurred, but after a little while our batteries ceased firing, and we
had comparative silence.
About 2 o'clock the rebel infantry was seen advancing across the valley,
and I ordered the Third to ascend the hill and take position on the
crest. The enemy's batteries now reopened with redoubled fury, and the
air seemed filled with shot and exploding shells. Finding the rebels
were still too far away to make our muskets effective, I ordered the
boys to lie down and await their nearer approach. They advanced under
cover of a house on the side hill, and having reached a point one
hundred and fifty yards distant, deployed behind a stone fence which was
hidden from us by standing corn. At this time the left of my regiment
rested on the Maxville and Perryville road; the line extending along the
crest of the hill, and the right passing somewhat behind a barn filled
with hay. In this position, with the enemy's batteries pouring upon us a
most destructive fire, the Third arose and delivered its first volley.
For a time, I do not know how long thereafter, it seemed as if all hell
had broken loose; the air was filled with hissing balls; shells were
exploding continuously, and the noise of the guns was deafening; finally
the barn on the right took fire, and the flames bursting from roof,
windows, doors, and interstices between the logs, threw the right of the
regiment into disorder; the confusion, however, was but temporary. The
boys closed up to the left, steadied themselves on the colors, and stood
bravely to the work. Nearly two hundred of my five hundred men now lay
dead and wounded on the little strip of ground over which we fought.
Colonel Curren Pope, of the Fifteenth Kentucky, whose regiment was being
held in reserve at the bottom of the hill, had already twice requested
me to retire my men and allow him to take the position. Finding now that
our ammunition was exhausted, I sent him notice, and as his regiment
marched to the crest the Third was withdrawn in as perfect order, I
think, as it ever moved from the drill-ground. The Fifteenth made a
gallant fight, and lost heavily both in officers and men; in fact, the
Lieutenant-Colonel and Major fell mortally wounded while it was moving
into position. Colonel Pope was also wounded, but not so seriously as to
prevent his continuing in command. The enemy getting now upon its right
and rear, the regiment was compelled to retire from the crest.
After consultation with Colonel Pope, it was determined to move our
regiments to the left, and form a line perpendicular to the one
originally taken, and thus give protection to the rear and right of the
troops on our left. The enemy observing this movement, and accepting it
as an indication of withdrawal, advanced rapidly toward us, when I about
faced my regiment, and ordered the men to fix bayonets and move forward
to meet him; but before we had proceeded many yards, I was overtaken by
Lieutenant Grover, of Colonel Lytle's staff, with an order to retire.
Turning into a ravine a few rods distant, we found an ammunition wagon,
and, under a dropping fire from the enemy, refilled our empty cartridge
boxes. Ascertaining while here that Colonel Lytle was certainly wounded,
and probably killed, I reported at once for duty to Colonel Len. Harris,
commanding Ninth Brigade of our division; but night soon thereafter put
an end to the engagement.
We bivouacked in a corn-field. The regiment had grown suddenly small. It
was a sorry night for us indeed. Every company had its long list of
killed, wounded, and missing. Over two hundred were gone. Nearly two
hundred, we felt quite sure, had fallen dead or disabled on the field.
Many eyes were in tears, and many hearts were bleeding for lost comrades
and dear friends. General Rousseau rides up in the darkness, and, as we
gather around him, says, in a voice tremulous with emotion: "Boys of the
Third, you stood in that withering fire like men of iron." They did.
They are thirsty and hungry. Few, however, think either of food or
water. Their thoughts are on the crest of that little hill, where
Cunard, McDougal, St. John, Starr, and scores of others lie cold in
death. They think of the wounded and suffering, and speak to each other
of the terrible ordeal through which they have passed, with bated breath
and in solemn tones, as if a laugh, or jest, or frivolous word, would be
an insult to the slain.
They have long sought for a battle, and often been disappointed and sore
because they failed to find one; but now, for the first time, they
really realize what a battle is. They see it is to men what an arctic
wind is to autumn leaves, and are astonished to find that any have
outlived the furious storm of deadly missiles.
The enemy is in the woods before us, and as the sentinels occasionally
exchange shots, we can see the flash of their guns and hear the whistle
of bullets above our heads. The two armies are too near to sleep
comfortably, or even safely, so the boys cling to their muskets and keep
ready for action. It is a long night, but it finally comes to an end.
9. The enemy has disappeared, and we go to the hill where our fight
occurred. Within the compass of a few rods we find a hundred men of the
Third and Fifteenth lying stiff and cold. Beside these there are many
wounded, whom we pick up tenderly, carry off and provide for. Men are
already digging trenches, and in a little while the dead are gathered
together for interment. We have looked upon such scenes before; but then
the faces were strange to us. Now they are the familiar faces of
intimate personal friends, to whom we are indebted for many kindly acts.
We hear convulsive sobs, see eyes swollen and streaming with tears, and
as our fallen comrades are deposited in their narrow grave, the lines of
Wolfe recur to us:
"No useless coffin inclosed his breast;
Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him,
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
* * * * *
Slowly and sadly we laid him down
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone,
But left him alone with his glory."
13. We are in a field near Harrodsburg. Moved yesterday from Perryville.
We are without tents. Rain is falling, and the men uncomfortable.
Many, perhaps most, of the boys of the regiment disliked me thoroughly.
They thought me too strict, too rigid in the enforcement of orders; but
now they are, without exception, my fast friends. During the battle of
Chaplin Hills, while the enemy's artillery was playing upon us with
terrible effect, I ordered them to lie down. The shot, shell, and
canister came thick as hail, hissing, exploding, and tearing up the
ground around us. There was a universal cry from the boys that I should
lie down also; but I continued to walk up and down the line, watching
the approaching enemy, and replied to their entreaties, "No; it is my
time to stand guard now, and I will not lie down."
Meeting Captain Loomis yesterday, he said: "Do you know you captured a
regiment at Chaplin Hills?" "I do not." "Yes, you captured the Third.
You have not a man now who wouldn't die for you."
I have been too much occupied of late to record even the most
interesting and important events. I should like to preserve the names of
the private soldiers who behaved like heroes in the battle; but I have
only time to mention the fact that our colors changed hands seven times
during the engagement. Six of our color bearers were either killed or
wounded, and as the sixth man was falling, a soldier of Company C, named
David C. Walker, a boyish fellow, whose cheeks were ruddy as a girl's,
and who had lost his hat in the fight, sprang forward, caught the
falling flag, then stepping out in front of the regiment, waved it
triumphantly, and carried it to the end of the battle.
On the next morning I made him color bearer, and undertook to thank him
for his gallantry, but my eyes filled and voice choked, and I was unable
to articulate a word. He understood me, doubtless.
If it had not been for McCook's foolish haste, it is more than probable
that Bragg would have been most thoroughly whipped and utterly routed.
As it was, two or three divisions had to contend for half a day with one
of the largest and best disciplined of the Confederate armies, and that,
too, when our troops in force were lying but a few miles in the rear,
ready and eager to be led into the engagement. The whole affair is a
mystery to me. McCook is, doubtless, to blame for being hasty; but may
not Buell be censurable for being slow? And may it not be true that this
butchery of men has resulted from the petty jealousies existing between
the commanders of different army corps and divisions?
19. Encamped in a broken, hilly field, five miles south of Crab Orchard.
From Perryville to this place, there has been each day occasional
cannonading; but this morning I have heard no guns. The Cumberland
mountains are in sight. We are pushing forward as fast probably as it is
possible for a great army to move. Buell is here superintending the
movement.
24. In the woods near Lebanon, and still without tents. Bragg has left
Kentucky, and is thought to be hastening toward Nashville. We shall
follow him. Having now twice traveled the road, the march is likely to
prove tedious and uninteresting. The army has been marching almost
constantly for two months, and bivouacking at night with an
insufficiency of clothing.
The troops are lying in an immense grove of large beech. We have had
supper, and a very good one, by the way: pickled salmon, currant jelly,
fried ham, butter, coffee, and crackers. It is now long after nightfall,
and the forest is aglow with a thousand camp-fires. The hum of ten
thousand voices strikes the ear like the roar of a distant sea. A band
away off to the right is mingling its music with the noise, and a mule
now and then breaks in with a voice not governed by any rules of melody
known to man.
NOVEMBER, 1862.
9. In camp at Sinking Spring, Kentucky. Thomas commands the Fourteenth
Army Corps, consisting of Rousseau's, Palmer's, Dumont's, Negley's, and
Fry's divisions; say 40,000 men. McCook has Sill's, Jeff C. Davis', and
Granger's; say 24,000. Crittenden has three divisions, say 24,000. A
large army, which ought to sweep to Mobile without difficulty.
Sinking Spring, as it is called by some, Mill Spring by others, and by
still others Lost river, is quite a large stream. It rises from the
ground, runs forty rods or more, enters a cave, and is lost. The wreck
of an old mill stands on its banks. Bowling Green is three miles
southward.