On the 25th of October, the brigade left Chattanooga for Shell Mound.
Early in the morning, before the sun had risen, the Fifty-Ninth broke
camp and marched down to the river. The other regiments of the brigade
were crossing over on the pontoon bridge below town, and the
Fifty-Ninth fell into column at the proper time and crossed over.
The bridge at this point is about three hundred yards long, and
requires fifty-two pontoons to float it. A few nights before the
regiment crossed, the rebels sent a large raft, made of heavy timber,
down the river, which striking the bridge, stove it into pieces. It did
not take long to repair it, and very little damage was done by this
sharp trick.
After crossing, the command took the road leading down through the
river bottom lands for five miles, when it reached the foot of the
Sequatchie Mountain. Here it rested a short time, and the men refreshed
themselves with a hard tack and a slice of bacon. Before them now looms
up a mountain, around the side of which winds a road four miles long,
which they must climb. The bugle sounds, and the march up the mountain
commences. Had there been nothing to attract attention on the way, the
march would have been a toilsome one, but as it was, the men did not
think of getting weary. The road in many places was marked by objects
of much interest on the side of the road next the mountain. Masses of
rock of all shapes and of every dimension meet the view. Some of these
appeared just ready to fall, and crush the column as it passed. Here
was one forming a perpendicular wall, of a hundred feet in height, and
three hundred in length; and then another of as large dimensions, in
appearance like to an old ancient castle set in the side of the
mountain. Here is another, with an opening to a cave within, of unknown
extent. There issues a stream of limpid water large enough to turn the
wheels of fortune; and not far from this, a beautiful jet of pure, cold
water bursts, as it were, from out the solid rock, and trickles along,
way down the mountain, in pearly drops. At the foot of the mountain,
the Tennessee River urges its way through its narrow rock-bound
channel, in billowy grandeur. It is only now and then that its waters
can be seen from the line of march, but when they are, it is only to
cause a frequent turning of the eye in that direction to get another
glimpse.
In this passage up the mountain, there is one place, of half a mile in
length, which is called the "Narrows." From the high bluffs, on the
opposite side of the river, a minnie ball may be thrown against the
rocks above the road, on the Sequatchie Mountain. Several mules and one
or two men had been killed while passing these narrows by rebel sharp
shooters, from the bluffs across the river. Two or three shots were
fired at the column now passing, but no one was hit. About one o'clock
the regiment arrived at the summit of the mountain, and there halted
for dinner.
After dinner and an hour's rest, the march was continued. The road now
taken is called the Old Ridge Road. It leads along the summit of this
ridge for twenty miles. Sometimes the ridge is just broad enough for
the passage of a single wagon, and at these places you can look down,
down, down, until your head swims. There are some very good "look out"
points on this ridge.
The regiment went into camp on the evening of the 26th, near one of
these points, and had the pleasure of witnessing the departure of Old
Sol, as he disappeared below the horizon. It was a pretty sight. During
the twilight they had an opportunity of looking up and down the
Sequatchie Valley, as it lay in the depths below. It had the appearance
of being a very rich and finely cultivated country. Farms and farm
houses were quite numerous and seemed snug and inviting.
The descent from this mountain summit commenced early on the morning of
the 27th, and after ascending and descending innumerable acclivities
and declivities, the regiment went into camp on the bank of the
Tennessee River. Here it was expected that the command would be ferried
across the river, at what was called Brown's Ferry, but after about two
hours in quarters, the order came to march. It was still about seven
miles to Shell Mound, and this was the distance now to be marched. The
sun was setting, as the regiment moved out, and about nine o'clock it
crossed the river at Shell Mound, and went into camp again.
Shell Mound is seven miles above Bridgeport, and twenty-one below
Chattanooga. To get from Chattanooga here, the command had marched
sixty-miles. Shell Mound derives its name from the innumerable quantity
of shells that is piled up there. The entire mound is composed of
muscle shell, as though they had been hauled there and tilted from the
cart. Their number is most astonishing. It might be supposed that all
the muscles from the first creation to the present time had made this
their charnel house.
If some shrewd Yankee should ever take it into his head to load a few
flat-boats with these shells, and have them pulverized and barreled up,
he could make a fortune by selling the powder as a fertilizer for
Northern farms. This bed of shells is ten feet deep at the river brink,
and covers several acres, in some places to a greater depth.
At this place is another great curiosity--the "Negro Jack Cave," as it
is called by the natives. The entrance to this cave is large--perhaps
twenty feet wide, and fifteen feet to the arch above. The arch is most
beautifully turned, smooth and regular. The smoke from the fires which
have been kindled under this arch has given it a cloudy appearance,
which is very pretty. This is a saltpetre cave, and the rebels have had
very extensive works through it. Around the entrance, on the outside,
are furnaces and kettles; on the inside are hundreds of filterers, or
hoppers, for filtering the clay, which holds the saltpetre. On
penetrating fifty or sixty feet within, the light disappears, and it is
necessary to use torches or candles to see the way over the slimy
hillocks of mud and broken stone, which fill the passages. The cave is
said to be fifteen miles in length. There is a large stream of water
running through it, which has been ascended by canoes for ten miles,
from the entrance. This stream flows out from an opening a short
distance to the right of the mouth of the cave, in size sufficient to
turn a large grist mill. It is crossed on a plank bridge, about five
hundred feet from the mouth of the cave. The water can not be seen, but
a stone dropped from the bridge can be heard as it plunges into the
water far below. The walls, in some places, are very rough, and in
others quite smooth.
Some distance, after crossing the river, you come to a small chamber,
which is very pretty. It is, perhaps, twenty feet square. The ceiling
is ornamented with stalactites, resembling icicles, and the walls are
perpendicular and smooth. The corners and the edges of the ceiling are
as though they had been ornamented by some master workman. There are
many different passages leading from the main entrance, and great
attention is required, or you lose your way.
When Buell's army was here some of his boys got lost in this cave, and
were three days in finding the way out, and would not then if a band of
music had not went in, and blowed their instruments, which were heard
by the wanderers, and thus discovered to them the direction they ought
to take. While seeking their way out, these boys came across the body
of a Lieutenant, who had lost his way, and thus perished. This cave
received the name of "Negro Jack" because of its having been the hiding
place of an old negro by that name, in an early day.
There had been a small town at Shell Mound, and the railroad depot was
yet standing when our boys got there, but the next morning it was torn
down to make shelters and fires for the men. It was a nice brick depot,
and its destruction ought not to have been allowed. It was the last of
Shell Mound City. The saltpetre works are all destroyed, and there is
nothing here now of interest but the pontoon bridge across the river.
The regiments lay at Shell Mound two days, and then moved up to
Whitesides, seven miles nearer Chattanooga. Here the brigade went into
winter quarters. Whiteside Station is fourteen miles below Chattanooga,
and is at the foot of Raccoon Mountain, in Marion County, Tennessee.
Camp is situated on the side of the mountain, just above the railroad,
and is within protecting distance of the "Falling Waters" railroad
bridge, now in course of reconstruction. This bridge was destroyed by
the rebels on the approach of Buell's army. It was a fine structure,
and cost ninety-five thousand dollars. It was five hundred feet in
length, and ninety-five feet in height.
The mountain summit is at least a thousand feet above camp. Near the
top is a large ledge of rock, and just below this ledge is an opening
to a coal mine. These mountains are full of coal, and there are several
mines within a short distance of camp.
The chute from the one above the depot, deposits the coal near where it
is loaded upon the cars for shipment. These chutes are square tunnels,
made of boards. By putting the coal in at the top, it is conducted,
with the rapidity of a cannon ball, to the bottom. The boys are now
amusing themselves by throwing large stones into this chute, and
watching them come out at the bottom. Below camp runs a small mountain
stream called the "Falling Waters." On the opposite side of this stream
rises another mountain, to the height of two thousand feet. The Ninth
Indiana Regiment is stationed on the summit of this mountain.
While at Chattanooga, the army was reorganized, and, instead of four
regiments, there were now eight in a brigade. Colonel Post was now
acting as President of a Board of Claims, and Colonel Gross, of the
Thirty-Sixth Indiana, was in command of the brigade. The brigade
consisted of the Fifty-Ninth Illinois, Seventy-Fifth Illinois,
Eightieth Illinois, Ninth Indiana, Thirty-Sixth Indiana, Ninety-Sixth
Ohio, and Eighty-Fourth Illinois Regiments. The eighth regiment had not
yet joined the brigade.
Colonel P. Sidney Post, on relinquishing the command of the First
Brigade of General Davis' old division, which was consolidated in the
new organization, issued the following order:
"HEADQU'RS 1ST BRIG., 1ST DIV., 20TH ARMY CORPS,
"Chattanooga, Oct. 16, '63.
"_General Order No. 51._--In the organization of the army, this
brigade will lose its identity, and be transferred to another
division and corps. Organized on the banks of the Ohio more than a
year ago, it has traversed Kentucky and Tennessee, scaled the
mountains of Northern Alabama and Georgia, and now terminates its
existence on the south bank of the Tennessee. The year during which
it has remained intact will ever be remembered as that in which
the gallant armies of the West rolled back the advancing hosts of
the rebellion, and extinguished the Confederacy in the valley of
the Mississippi. In accomplishing this glorious achievement,
you--soldiers of the First Brigade--have performed no mean part. On
the laborious march you have been patient and energetic, and in the
skirmish and battle second to none in stubborn valor and success.
In one year you lost upon the battle-field eight hundred and fifty
heroic comrades. Baptised in blood at Perryville, this brigade led
the army in pursuit of the retreating foe, and again attacks him at
Lancaster, whence he fled from Kentucky. In the mid-winter campaign
it opened the battle at Stone River, by attacking and driving the
enemy from Nolensville, on the memorable 31st of December, together
with the rest of the Twentieth Army Corps valiantly met the attack
of the concentrated opposing army. At Liberty Gap, and in the late
battle of Chickamauga, it performed well the part assigned it, and
finishes its honorable career weaker in number but strong in the
confidence and discipline of invincible veterans. For the able and
hearty co-operations its commander has received from the officers,
and for the cheerful support yielded by its gallant men, he returns
his sincere thanks. No petty jealousies, no intrigue or
demoralizing influences, have ever disgraced and paralyzed our
efforts for the country's cause; and the commander unites in the
just pride which all feel in the history of, and in their
connection with, the First Brigade, First Division, Twentieth Army
Corps.
"P. SIDNEY POST,
"Colonel Commanding Brigade."