My Return to My Company and Regiment on May 25, 1864.
I found the boys of my company, and a happy meeting it was. They
surrounded me and treated me royally, asking many questions in regard
to my capture and prison life. Oh, how glad I was to get back among
them once more! But alas! some of the number were missing, never to
return. Some had died, others been killed in battle since I had last
been with them. Our camp was located in a pleasant grove of tall
trees, with a well of good water near by. Our captain thought I was
not yet well enough to do duty, and therefore did not issue any
firearms to me.
A few days later part of the company was sent out to reconnoiter, and
I concluded to go with them for recreation, and thought it would be of
more benefit to me than medicine. I procured a sabre and carbine from
one of the boys who was not able to go with us. We went out quite a
distance from camp, to see what we could ascertain in regard to the
enemy, but failed to find any. We stopped at a farmhouse where we
bought some milk and a few biscuits, which tasted delicious.
We returned to camp without any special excitement, and I felt quite
refreshed. It was now the early part of July, 1864, and time passed
away as usual, with the ordinary guard and picket duties, and
occasionally going outside the lines on scouting expeditions. My
health still continued to improve slowly. Nothing special occurred to
create any great excitement until Aug. 21, 1864, when in the morning,
about three o’clock, we heard firing on the picket line, which was
more than ordinary skirmishing. The firing awoke some of us
immediately, and in about a minute all was alive and bustle in our
camp. The regimental bugle sounded “boots and saddles,” which meant
get your boots on and saddle your horses. And then another call came
to mount and fall in, which meant get in line, ready to march, and we
proceeded to do this as quickly as possible. Before we were able to
form in line we heard the enemy galloping toward the city on the main
road, within thirty or forty rods of our camp. As it was not yet
daylight we were unable to see them. They proved to be quite a large
force of Gen. Forrest’s cavalry. They came to the picket line, fired a
few volleys, and broke right through with their main column, and fired
into a regiment of infantry which was camped a short distance inside
the picket line, killing several of their number. As there were not
many troops camped inside the city, the Confederate cavalry had almost
a clear road to the center of the city. Their object was to capture
the General in command, rob the postoffice, and any other mischief
they could do. They nearly accomplished their object. The General in
command of our troops here had his headquarters in a house, and the
Confederates came to the front door so suddenly that he had only time
to get out of bed, grab his clothes, and escape through a back door.
Some of the enemy got upon the steps of the postoffice, but were
driven away by a squad of infantry who fired on them from across the
street. While this was going on in the city, twenty-five of Co. C, I
being of that number, were detailed to move out toward the picket line
to ascertain what was there, and whether or not there was any
considerable force of Confederates. Before reaching the place where
the picket line was usually located, we discovered a long line of
cavalry standing quietly, and at first were unable to tell whether
they were friend or foe, on account of its not being quite light
enough. We moved up within a short distance of them, and found them to
be Confederate cavalry, which had been left there as a reserve, as we
learned later. They did not fire upon us, as they no doubt supposed
that we were some of their own men returning from the city. We
immediately faced about and moved toward the city and our camp, and
soon found ourselves in a bad predicament, with a long line of the
enemy in front and another in our rear. As I stated before it was
scarcely light enough to distinguish objects at a long distance, and
we were within four or five rods of the enemy’s line, which was just
returning from the city, before the discovery was made that we were
enemies to each other. Then firing commenced and we immediately saw
our dangerous position, being threatened in front and rear with a
force of the enemy more than ten times our number, and we knew what
our fate would be if we remained there a moment longer—that we would
be made prisoners. Our only means of escape were some small spaces
open on the flanks. We struck out for these, every man as fast as
horse power could take him. In this little skirmish our force of
twenty-five was nearly annihilated; one being killed, several made
prisoners, some slightly wounded, and a number injured by their horses
falling into washouts, which were plentiful in this section. The
balance were scattered in different directions in order to make their
escape. I escaped without injury, receiving only bullet-holes through
my right trousers leg, but they did not cause me any pain. Two of the
horses belonging to our party became unmanageable. The rider of one,
William Orris, was carried through between two Confederates, who had
their guns in position to shoot when they saw him approaching them.
They both fired, just as he was within a few feet of them, and both
missed him, but one fired so close to his head that his hair was
singed. He was carried safely through the lines to our forces. The
other one, Elmer Hunt, was carried by his horse through the
Confederate forces, and also arrived in our lines in safety. The
balance of our number that were left got through, some one way and
some another. When the Confederates saw that we were determined to get
away they started to follow us, and as I was riding up a hill along a
fence I heard them coming toward me, shooting and yelling, “Halt,
halt, you Yank!” but Yank wouldn’t halt worth a cent. I had other
business just over the fence in a cottonfield. It seemed to me that I
never was in such a big hurry to go somewhere in my life, as I was
when riding up that hill, and I did not heed the Johnnies’ advice, who
were trying so hard to persuade me to stop. As the saying is, a person
could have played checkers on my coat tail if I had possessed one, but
I had on a cavalry jacket. I was riding an extremely tall horse of
several colors, an Arabian, spotted something like a giraffe. He was
owned by Uncle Sam, and when riding up that hill he appeared to be
about seventy-five hands high, especially when I fell off at the
cottonfield. I must have presented a comical spectacle when going up
that hill. I don’t wonder that the Confederates followed me so
industriously.
When I reached the cottonfield my horse made a short turn at a fence
corner, and the saddle girth being quite loose allowed the saddle to
turn and I found myself on the ground, in a second, badly scared. As
the saying is, “I might as well have been shot as to have been scared
to death.” I was determined that they should not again make me a
prisoner. So I jumped up, and as quickly as possible ran through under
the fence into the cottonfield, and up between two rows of cotton,
which were about four feet in height and quite bushy, and by stooping
down I was enabled to keep out of sight. After running some distance I
lay down in the row and remained there, awaiting results. The enemy
did not follow me into the cottonfield, but after remaining there
perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes I heard horsemen coming up through
the field, and in a few moments a large number of the Confederate
cavalry rode past me, in the second or third row from where I was
lying and expected every moment that they would call me to get up, and
I would be their prisoner. But they passed by without discovering me.
If they had but stopped and listened, they might have heard my heart
beat, but they would undoubtedly have mistaken it for a bass drum. All
sorts of visions of the horrid prison pens passed through my mind in
these few moments. Soon after the Confederates passed out of my
hearing I quietly arose to see what could be discovered. The enemy had
now all disappeared, and I looked around and saw one of my squad,
Giles Hodge, who was in a similar predicament as myself, and had just
risen out of the cotton about twenty-five or thirty feet from me. We
looked at each other and exchanged congratulations on our good fortune
in escaping capture by the enemy.
It was at once discovered that the Confederates had all passed out of
our immediate vicinity and that our troops were preparing to follow.
Hodge and myself then walked back to camp, where we found our horses,
to our surprise and joy. Comrade Hodge is now living in Lee Center,
Ill., and Comrade Orris in Triumph, Ill. Comrade Hunt I believe lives
in Davenport, Iowa.
During the morning engagement, James Coss, of Co. C, who remained with
the main portion of the 7th, chased and captured a Confederate
lieutenant. During the chase Jim’s hat fell to the ground, which he
could not pick up, as he was obliged to keep his eyes upon his
prisoner, and therefore escorted his captive nearly two miles, to the
General’s headquarters, bareheaded. The General congratulated Jim and
presented him with a hat.
After procuring our horses, we readjusted the saddles, mounted, and
also went in pursuit of Gen. Forrest’s forces. After catching up with
our company and regiment the boys began laughing at us, on account of
our peculiar way of making our escape. While Hodge and I were lying in
the cottonfield the ground appeared to be as attractive as a magnet,
and we were about as flat as a hardtack. And about the time that the
Confederate cavalry was passing by us I imagined that the old
Confederate prisons were almost in sight. It did seem as though I
thought of a thousand things in one moment of time. I was almost
certain that if I was captured then and taken back to prison it would
end my days, as I was yet in rather a poor condition of health from
the effects of my former imprisonment.
We followed the Confederates some time, when we met Gen. Forrest with
several of his command carrying a flag of truce, and of course,
according to the rules of war, we were obliged to halt until the party
returned to its command. I never learned the object of the truce
party, but I had a good view of Gen. Forrest on this occasion, and
well remember his form. He was a large man, and wore a broad-brimmed
hat, but I did not see his face. After their return we again resumed
the pursuit, and continued until late in the day, and then returned to
camp. Everything remained quiet about the camp until I think some time
in August, or the early part of September, when we received orders to
move our camp a short distance east of Memphis to a place called White
Station, located on the Memphis and Charleston Railroad.
While camped there I had a slight experience with bushwhackers, while
on outpost picket duty. On a bright moonlight night in September, as I
was sitting on my horse in the shade of a large forest tree, in the
woods and close to the road, keeping watch of things in front, my
attention was suddenly attracted by something glistening in the
moonlight, a short distance beyond a patch of underbrush and
apparently very near the road. I kept my eye peeled, as the saying is,
and soon saw some object quietly and slowly moving about in the
vicinity where the glistening object had been seen. I immediately held
a consultation with myself and very soon rendered a decision, as
follows: I decided that if what I saw was a person or a number of
persons with good intent, who wanted to come into camp, they would
come along the road without hesitation or trying to keep so quiet, nor
would they be prowling about in the brush so near the picket post. And
I further decided that what I saw was one or more bushwhackers, trying
to discover the man on outpost and shoot him, as they did sometimes
when opportunity afforded. But they did not see me because I was hid
behind and in the shade of a large tree. I finally fired at what I
supposed to be bushwhackers, and the report of my gun brought the men
composing the reserve picket out to ascertain the trouble. They rode
outside the picket line some distance, but could find no bushwhackers,
but found fresh tracks of three men in the dusty road in the vicinity
of where the moving object had been seen. In a short time all was
quiet again and I resumed my watch.
We remained at White Station until some time in October, when a number
of us whose three years’ service had expired were sent to Springfield
to receive our discharge, which we received Oct. 15, 1864, and were
now free citizens, and immediately returned to our homes. I had now
served Uncle Sam three years and four months. The war was fast drawing
to a close. When I arrived at home the majority of my boy companions
were yet in the army, many of them never to return, having been killed
in battle or died in hospital or prison.