SERVICE IN FIVE STATES.
THE ARMSTRONG RAID.
The reader will remember that in closing the previous chapter I stated
that Company E had been ordered to leave Missouri and take post at
Columbus, Kentucky. The company was not then designated by letter, as it
belonged to no regiment, but was known as the Hardeman Avengers. In
company with our sturdy friends, the Haywood Rangers, afterwards Company
D of the Seventh Tennessee Cavalry, we reached Columbus the first day of
September, 1861, being about the first troops to occupy an advanced post
among a people, who were then making a rather unsuccessful effort to
play the role of neutrals. We were now in a “hog and hominy” country,
and the soldiering was of the holiday kind. We made long marches through
the Purchase and saw many evidences of Southern sympathy. Indeed, the
whole population seemed to be friendly to us, as even those with
Northern sympathies prudently kept quiet. Then, as now, I accorded
people the right to think as they pleased, and to act upon their
convictions. Throughout the contest, I zealously held to the principle
that we should not make war upon old men, women and children. In the
light of this principle, I was able to enjoy to the fullest extent a
ridiculous attempt at concealment of real sentiment. For instance,
somewhere in the Mayfield country, the column was one day passing a farm
house upon the veranda of which was sitting a corpulent old gentleman,
whose adipose matter hung sufficiently low to largely cover his femurs,
as he sat with his pedal extremities slightly elevated on the rude
baluster. While he wildly gesticulated he lustily shouted, “_Hurrah for
Jeff Davis and the Southern Confederacy!_” At another part of the house
a little girl was making strenuous efforts to haul down the stars and
stripes, which doubtless was emblematic of the real sentiments of the
household. The old fellow “got the horse laugh.” In our peregrinations
through the several counties of the Purchase it seemed to me that we
were riding much to little purpose, as the Federals ventured little
beyond their lines at Paducah. I learned afterward that these exercises
made us take on the ways of a soldier, and taught us valuable lessons in
the bivouac. These stood us in good stead when, afterwards, we were
forced to use to the best advantage very scanty resources.
In this month of September, 1861, it was learned that a force of
Federals had occupied an advanced camp on Mayfield creek near
Blandville. The five companies of Tennessee Cavalry having been
organized into what was, for some months, known as Logwood’s Battalion,
were ordered to attack this force. Here we were to hear bullets whistle
for the first time. The command seemed to be eager to enjoy the
sensation of battle. As a private, I was supposed to be in profound
ignorance of the “plan of campaign,” but I could see enough to know that
the maneuvering was for the purpose of surrounding the camp and forcing
a surrender. Our company was drawn up in the woods within gunshot of the
enemy, but we had no clear view of their actions. There was random
firing on both sides, but there was no fixed purpose to press the
fighting. Green as we were, we would have gone into that camp, had we
been so ordered. There were men in that line, who afterwards, as
officers and privates, became famous fighters and, in many cases, went
to death on the firing line. Almost any one of Forrest’s real veterans
would, at a later day, have considered it a light undertaking, with the
backing of five hundred such men, to have “gobbled up the whole
thing”--perhaps without the firing of a gun. And yet nobody seemed to
be blamed for the failure of this expedition, for we were all ignorant
of real war. We had had another lesson in that which would eventually
make us veterans. We had heard the buzz of bullets.
The engagement turned out to be a trifling affair, though there was some
excitement in the ranks, especially about the time Mike McGrath of the
Haywood Rangers had his horse shot under him and had to leave the scene
mounted behind another soldier. It was not so funny then, but the little
things done in the excitement gave occasion for joking when we got back
to our quarters. There was a well known citizen who seemed to be acting
as our guide. They called him Captain Blake. Sixteen years after that,
while making an extensive trip in Texas for a well known newspaper, I
found this Captain Blake holding a prominent office in the town of
Granbury. Our short experience as soldiers together was then a pleasant
reminiscence, but he, too, had become a veteran by coming south with the
Kentucky troops and never returning to his home till after the
surrender.
About this time we received into the company four Kentuckians, three of
whom cut some figure as private soldiers and helped to make Company E
noted for its steadiness in battle and promptness to act in emergencies.
These were John Duncan, Cad Linthicum, Ranse Billington and an old
fellow whom we all knew as “Old Fulton.” The first three were typical
young men of the Purchase, reared in the hills bordering the Ohio river
bottoms. They were true sportsmen in all that the term implies, but were
never so busy in a game of poker, or so much interested in discussing
the good points of “Forrest’s sorrel” or of “Treadwell’s gray” that they
could not, on a moment’s notice, have mounted their own good steeds and
been off at a rattling pace to an important picket post, or upon an
adventurous scout. The sandy hair, the clear blue eye, the firm set jaw
of Duncan--the rollicking manner, the girl-like cheeks, the merry shout
in battle of Linthicum--the even temper, the great good humor, even when
facing peril, of Billington, and the fine horsemanship of each made them
men of mark among their comrades, while their apparent lack of fear and
love of adventure won the absolute confidence of their superiors.
Linthicum was wounded at Collierville, Tenn., in October, 1863, about
the time that the Thirteenth Regulars with General Sherman and staff
were hastily abandoning their train from Memphis to take refuge within
the Federal works. Duncan was shot through both arms in the fight at
Prairie Mound, Miss., where Jeffrey Forrest was killed. A few months
before the surrender, these three men were transferred to Henderson’s
Scouts, in which they found service exactly suited to their inclination.
Happily, they lived to return to their beloved Kentucky, where, as good
citizens, they spent many years in peaceful pursuits. They have passed
to the great beyond.
Well, as to “Old Fulton.” I should say he had been reared in an
atmosphere of gall, wormwood and vinegar. With a desperate temper and no
sweetness of soul, upon the slightest provocation he would fly into a
towering rage. If asked as to his age, a tart reply, interlarded with
oaths, was the result. His stringy hair and long flowing beard were
evidences of age. His cadaverous appearance, high cheek bones, piercing
gray eyes, alert head set in a long skinny frame, and his fiery passions
would have presented an interesting study to the excursionist into the
fields of anthropology. This old Kentuckian had joined the Tennesseeans
for the purpose, as he said, of soon killing a few Yankees. He never
gratified his supreme desire, for within a few months, having, perhaps,
tired of camp life, he got his discharge and set his face towards
Kentucky. After his departure, we could revert with amusement to “Old
Fulton’s” effort to start a camp fire at Island No. 10, with wet wood.
When the smoke had blinded the old man, and his patience and wind were
exhausted, he leaped upon the pile of fagots and, uttering violent
oaths, kicked them in every direction. This exhibition of temper was
rather amusing.
About the first of October, 1861, Haywood’s and Neely’s companies were
ordered to Camp Beauregard in Graves county to picket and scout for
Bowen’s brigade. This was a charming place for holiday soldiering,
situated near the village of Feliciana. As the cavalry was encamped
outside the infantry lines and there was little fear of attack, the
discipline was sufficiently lax to permit us to draw upon the
surrounding country for luxuries. These consisted of such things as old
hams, chickens and “peach and honey.” The boys did not neglect their
opportunities. But life at Camp Beauregard was soon to be a thing of the
past. The Federals were known to be making a move from Cairo. We reached
Columbus just in time to witness the battle of Belmont across the river.
This was the 7th day of November. Grant’s army was driven back to their
transports. Here we saw Federal prisoners for the first time, and as
many of them were wounded, we seemed to be a little nearer real war.
Going into winter quarters we entered upon the monotonous duty of
picketing the Milburn road. Dreary nights and weary days. Dull camp
routine and nothing to excite interest. But there was to be a change.
The news that Fort Donelson had fallen came in the last days of
February. The excitement meant that we were leaving Kentucky. With our
friends, the Rangers, we were ordered to Island No. 10. Here our
hardships increased, as we were poorly supplied with tents and cold
rains were falling. The gunboats were replying to our heavy guns, but to
little purpose, as the range was poor. They would send an occasional
shot clear into the timber, and there was no telling when one might land
right in our camp. Our nervousness on this account soon wore off, as we
were exposed thus for seventeen days. In the meantime, the river rapidly
rose and there was a rushing current through Reelfoot Lake in our rear.
This put us on an island. I know that our captain wished to be ordered
to the main land. The order came, but there was great fear that it would
be countermanded, as Mackall was just superseding McCown, who had given
the order. There was hot haste to get beyond the reach of orders. After
floundering around for a day in trying to reach a steamer, which it was
said would be available in the back water, we concluded that our only
resource was to reach a dry spot on the lake shore and collect a few old
flatboats and to reach the east side. In making our way to the lake we
found much of the back water up to the saddle skirts. We readily secured
one old rickety boat, which would carry five men with their horses and
accoutrements. As the lake here was five miles wide, and the water still
rising, our crossing would surely be slow and perilous. At this
juncture, Tom Joyner, George Bradford and I rode five miles along shore,
secured a boat, and having led our horses aboard, pulled for the camp.
Everything went well with the ten men and ten horses till we were “half
seas over.” Then an adverse wind struck our boat, while the other boat,
already much in advance seemed to glide over the water. It was
exasperating, but we “hove to” by the side of a friendly raft of logs
and awaited more propitious breezes or a lucky calm. We were fortunate
in reaching land before nightfall and in getting a good supper at a farm
house. But next morning the boats must be carried over that stretch of
water in order to rescue our fellow soldiers from an impending peril.
When we reached the camp only a detail had been left there to inform us
that the rest of the command had gone aboard of a steamer in the back
water, which was on its way to Randolph. One time happy they! Thrice and
four times happy we! We had escaped the perils of the deep waters and
the terrors of a Northern prison. Some of us had had a twenty-mile ride
on Reelfoot, but strenuous effort had been rewarded.
We had a long ride to Bolivar, and reached home just in time to hear the
guns at Shiloh. Four companies of infantry, one of artillery and one of
cavalry, recruited in Hardeman county, were in that battle. Harrowing
rumors of our losses came thick and fast, and little else was discussed.
The death of Johnston and the retreat of the army seemed to us like a
crushing defeat. Stragglers and wounded men from the army began to pass
through the country and spread the news of the disaster. Then came the
news that Island No. 10 had surrendered. It was a time for solemn
thought--for quiet deliberation. The holding of the great river became
now a doubtful proposition. This involved the abandonment of West
Tennessee. A few of our men even now went to their homes to stay. The
faithful set about reorganizing the company, which was to await orders.
We were really making a fresh start for the war under discouraging
circumstances. Our sacred honor and plighted faith to our state were
involved. It was no time for faint hearts. Death before dishonor seemed
to be the prevailing sentiment and when we got on the move, the old time
spirit returned.
We had now seen scarcely a year of service, but had traversed parts of
three states and crossed and recrossed the Mississippi river. At
Trenton, we were to take our place as Company E in what was for many
months known as the First Tennessee Cavalry under Colonel W. H. Jackson.
In numbering by seniority, we took the seventh place, though some of the
companies composing the regiment were among the first to volunteer.
There was the usual jealousy on the part of some because an outsider had
been placed over us as Colonel, but Jackson was a trained soldier, and
constantly grew in favor with officers and men. If Jackson did not
apparently have the dash of some other officers, his impression on
soldiers was of solidity, good sense and firmness. Judging from
incidents of the service, he must have had the implicit confidence of
Van Dorn and Forrest. More could not be said of any soldier.
But we must give up Tennessee--a sad thought. After a clash with some
Federal Cavalry at Lockridge’s Mill, in Weakley county in which there
was more of stampede than of fighting on their part, we retired toward
the state line. We moved out leisurely, as no force was crowding us. We
heard the noise of battle at Memphis on the 6th of June, 1862, and
camped that night at Germantown. We soon heard of the defeat of the
Confederate fleet in front of the city and of the Federal occupation.
Next day found us in camp on Coldwater river, a few miles from Holly
Springs. Then began a series of marches and countermarches in North
Mississippi and trips to the borders of Tennessee. In one of these, a
detachment of our command came near capturing General Grant at the house
of Josiah Deloach. This gave rise to the story, after the war, that for
his timely warning on the occasion Grant made Deloach postmaster of
Memphis.
If I were to attempt to record more than a tithe of the events incident
to our service in Mississippi during our first summer there, or do more
than to touch the high places, as I skim along, these reminiscences
would be too tedious for perusal.
William J. Tate, who had been elected lieutenant at the late regimental
reorganization, was now promoted to the captaincy of Company E. Suffice
it to say here that he had no superior as an officer in the regiment,
and I shall have something more to say of him, when I come to speak of
his death.
But the Armstrong raid. This was an expedition into West Tennessee under
the command of General Frank Armstrong. Advancing by way of Grand
Junction, we encountered a Federal force near Middleburg the 29th of
August. There was some fighting between the Second Missouri Cavalry
under Colonel McCulloch and the Second Illinois under Colonel Hogg, who
was killed. In a combat at close quarters between McCulloch and Hogg,
the latter was killed by Tom Turner, a young Missourian, to save the
life of McCulloch. Captain Champion of the Second Missouri was killed
here. As his body was borne from the field by two of his troopers, I
saw, for the first time, a dead Confederate, who had been slain in
battle. As the purpose of the raid seemed to be the cutting off of the
army at Bolivar by tearing up the railroad, which led to its base of
supplies, we crossed Hatchie river and struck the railroad at Medon. The
Federal garrison here was small, but without artillery we found it
impossible to dislodge them, so well were they protected in and about
the depot with cotton bales and other material. Nothing was accomplished
by the attack and several Confederates were either killed or wounded. It
did so happen that Company E, in the charge on foot at the old brick
church, passed over the same ground where it had been so royally
entertained by the people of that vicinity the day it was mustered into
service. Here Captain Bassett of Company C, Memphis, and Major
Duckworth, afterwards Colonel of the regiment, were severely wounded,
Bassett being permanently disabled. The command drew off to the east and
went into camp at the Casey Savage farm. The Federals having received
re-enforcements presented a bold front next morning when we passed to
the west of the railroad. Here was a fine chance for a fight of which we
did not avail ourselves, though the enemy were in an open field. With
our force, we could have driven them to shelter or effected their
capture. This was the first day of September, 1862, and we were to fight
the battle of Briton’s Lane that day. We were to encounter a force,
consisting of two infantry regiments, a section of artillery and a small
detachment of cavalry. Our army could have enveloped them, and should
have done so. The regiments were fought in detail, some of them scarcely
getting into the engagement at all. The Seventh Tennessee was ordered to
charge on foot through a corn field, from which the fodder had been
stripped, against a heavy line of infantry lying behind a stout worm
fence and in the woods. A galling fire was poured into Company E, but
some of its men reached the fence. Dr. Joe Allen of Whiteville mounted
the fence and fell dead on the enemy’s side of it. John Bradford of
Toone, and Willie Wendel, a school boy of Bolivar, were killed near the
fence. D. E. Durrett of Bolivar received a wound which put him on
crutches to the day of his death, which occurred a few years ago, and
Tom Joyner and John Fortune were severely wounded. How so many men got
out of that field alive is one of those unaccountable things that
sometimes occur in war. The whole command was discouraged by the
operations of this raid, and thought that, if we had gained anything at
all, we had paid dearly for it. The weather was hot and dry. When we
returned to Mississippi the men were thoroughly dispirited and their
horses in bad condition. True soldiers quickly recover from a disaster,
when well treated in camp, and even horses seem to follow the example of
the men. How sweet was the rest just then! But this respite was not for
long. Even then Van Dorn and Price were arranging the details to attack
Rosecrans at Corinth.