Reconnoiters Hickory Flats with a squad of seven men--Shoots
at the mark--Orders to march with two days' rations--Cause
of the alarm--Reconnoiter beyond Whitesville--Major Mudd's
trap--"Bunker" entices the rebs into it--Rides into the
trap behind a rebel Captain--Sent out beyond
Pocahontas--Passes as a rebel artillerist--Secesh citizen
stands guard for him--The very kind secesh lady--The
anxious wife--Discovers guerrillas burning a human being.
Near the close of September, General Hurlbut arrived at Bolivar, with
his division, from Memphis, and assumed command of the post. General
Ross recommended me to him as a reliable and successful spy. I knew the
General, but had never worked for him. I will here acknowledge that I am
indebted to General Hurlbut for some of the best lessons that I have
ever received in regard to my duties as a spy.
The first time that I went out for General Hurlbut, he told me that he
wanted I should go out to the Hickory Flats, and scout all over the
flats and see if I could find any rebel cavalry. I asked the privilege
of taking seven men with me, which was granted, and I was told to select
such men as I preferred. At that time detachments of the enemy, mostly
cavalry, were scattered about the country, watching for opportunities
to annoy us, by attacking our forage parties, and making raids upon the
railroad that we depended upon to transport our supplies. It had been
extremely difficult to find such detachments, because they usually
stayed but a short time in a place, and generally encamped in some back,
out-of-the-way place, concealed by swamps, woods, and cane-brakes,
reached by unfrequented roads or paths. The object of my trip was to
examine thoroughly the Hickory Flats and its vicinity for any such
detachments.
I selected my men, and proceeded to the place and examined it, so far as
I could, on the day that I went out. I remained there over night, and in
the morning resumed my work, and by noon had thoroughly reconnoitered
the locality, without having discovered any detachments of the enemy. We
then eat dinner, and prepared to return.
As we were about to leave, Sergeant Downs, one of my squad, proposed
that, inasmuch as we were fifteen miles away from camp, I allow the men
to shoot a few rounds at a mark, for practice. Not thinking that there
_might_ be any serious consequences resulting from it, I consented. We
all engaged in shooting, following one after the other in quick
succession, until we had fired, in all, forty-seven shots. I was not
aware that any other scouting party had been sent out. Having finished
our shooting, we returned to camp. It was late when we arrived, and,
being very tired, I deferred reporting to General Hurlbut until the next
morning.
About 2 o'clock in the morning the troops were wakened up, and given
orders to put two days' cooked rations in their haversacks, and be ready
to march at a moment's notice. It seemed a strange move for me, for I
thought that I was as well posted as any body of the whereabouts of the
enemy. I could not comprehend what the move meant.
My curiosity became so excited about it, that I started for
head-quarters to report much earlier than I otherwise would have done.
As I passed the different camps, every thing was bustle and hurry, with
preparations for a march. The cavalry horses were saddled and the
artillery horses harnessed, in preparation for a move. Something was up,
sure, and I wondered what it could be.
"What's up? What do you think is the matter?" said I, calling to an
artilleryman, as I passed.
"The cavalry that went out yesterday reported a large force of rebel
cavalry on the Hickory Flats, and I expect that we are going out there,"
was the reply.
It was all clear enough then! I had done the mischief! I felt badly
worked up about it. I knew that I had no business to fire a gun; but I
was so far away that I did not suppose any of our forces would hear it.
It was my first scout for General Hurlbut, and I expected that it would
destroy his confidence in me. I expected a severe rebuke, at least, and
I dreaded to report. I determined, however, to face the music, let come
what would; so I went in.
"Good morning, General," said I, saluting him as I went in. "I have got
back."
"Good morning, Bunker. What's the news?"
"Nothing; I haven't got any news this morning."
"Where did you go?"
"I went right where you told me to go--out to Hickory Flats, and back,
by way of Middleburg, to camp."
"Have you been out to the Hickory Flats?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see any rebel cavalry there?"
"No, sir, I did not."
"Well, Bunker, your report and that of the cavalry don't agree at all."
"I can't help it, General; I have been right where you told me to go,
and I did not see any rebel cavalry."
"_Bunker!_" said the General, with emphasis, "_do you come here and tell
me that you have been down on the Hickory Flats, and that there is no
rebel cavalry there?_"
"Yes, sir, I do. I know what the trouble is. I expect that I'll catch
"Hail Columbia" now! I caused the mischief."
"How so?"
"After I finished my reconnoissance yesterday, before starting back, I
allowed the men to fire at the mark, and they kept up a pretty brisk
fire until they had fired forty-seven shots. I suspect that the cavalry
has been out there and heard it. I knew that we were fifteen miles away
from camp, and I did not think that we might cause an alarm by it."
"That's a _fact_, is it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well; that will do. Be careful the next time."
An hour later all was quiet in camp; the horses were unharnessed, and
every thing moved off as usual.
* * * * *
A little incident took place during a reconnoissance to a small town on
the right bank of the Hatchee River, west of Whitesville, some time in
September, 1862, that I will here narrate.
A brigade of infantry, a regiment of cavalry, a battery of artillery,
and the detachment known as the "mule cavalry" constituted the force.
The cavalry was the 2d Illinois, under the command of Major Mudd. When
within four miles of the town, the infantry and artillery halted, and
the 2d Illinois and mule cavalry went on to the river.
On several occasions, scouting parties of cavalry had dashed into the
town, and they had always found some rebel cavalry, who, on the approach
of the Federal cavalry, would skedaddle, taking a path that led to a
ford across the river, and hide themselves among the canes that grew
upon the bottoms along the river. To prevent their escape, on this
occasion, Major Mudd sent two companies and the "mule cavalry" by the
road into town, and took the balance of his command down the river to
the ford that I have mentioned, and disposed his men among the canes in
such a way as not to be seen from the side of the river next to the
town, and, at the same time, be able to capture all that crossed at the
ford.
I accompanied the Major, and, after he had got his men satisfactorily
arranged, I undressed and waded to the opposite side to see how things
looked there. Having dressed myself, I proceeded to examine the
locality. I found that, at a few paces from the river, there was a path
that turned down the stream and crossed at a ford below where the Major
had set his trap. It was then too late to change the disposal of the
men, so I resolved to act as "stool-pigeon" to the Major's trap. I
stationed myself where I would be in plain view of any person that might
take the wrong path, and whenever a man would incline to turn down the
river, I would motion to him to come toward me, as if I mistrusted there
was something wrong down below, and as he came up, I would say to him,
as if by way of caution, "There is Lincoln cavalry down there; you had
better cross here."
Some rode across the ford without any enticing, and others inclined to
take the wrong path; such I would entice to take the right path. In this
I was successful at every attempt. My dress being like that of a
citizen, they did not mistrust my character. I had succeeded in enticing
five men into the trap, when a rebel Captain made his appearance, with a
pair of beautiful mouse-colored mules, as sleek as moles, and manifested
a disposition to take the wrong path. He was riding one of the mules
himself, and a colored boy was riding the other. I motioned to the
Captain to come toward me. As he came up--
"There is Lincoln cavalry down that way," said I; "you had better cross
here. What's the matter up in town?"
[Illustration: WHOA, MULE! CAPTURED, BY G--D!]
"The town is full of Lincolnites!"
"They'll be down here directly, then, I reckon. I had better get out of
this. Won't you let me get on behind you and ride across?"
"Yes, come this way." He rode alongside of a bank of earth, and I
straddled the mule, behind him. We crossed the stream, and had ascended
the bank on the opposite side, when, discovering the Lincolnites, with
their carbines leveled at us, he exclaimed, "Whoa, mule! Captured, by
G--d! Both of us! I swear, that's too bad! Here I am, within five miles
of my command, and captured!"
"That's a fact, Captain, but we can't help it now. I expect we had
better ride on up; it's no place to trade jack-knives here!" So we went
on.
"Whew!" said the Major, "that's the way I like to see you come; when you
come, come double!"
We rode up to the Major, who ordered us to dismount, and, taking
possession of the mules, he said, pointing to the group he had already
captured: "There, you had better go right down there, out of sight;
that's the best place for you. How do you like my trap, Captain?"
"I think it's a very good one; it caught me mighty nice!"
He felt sold over his capture, and doubly so when he learned that _I_
had _enticed_ him into the trap. The Major having succeeded in
entrapping eighteen "very fine" rebs, we returned with the brigade to
Bolivar.
On the 3d day of October, General Price attacked General Rosecrans at
Corinth, Miss., and, after a severe engagement, was defeated and
compelled to retreat. General Hurlbut immediately marched the troops
under his command to General Rosecrans' assistance. On his way, he met
the rebel army on its retreat, while it was crossing the Hatchee River,
and completely routed it.
A few days after the return of General Hurlbut's command to Bolivar, he
sent me out to find where the scattered fragments of General Price's
army were concentrating. I was allowed to take a man with me, and was
requested to make the trip as quickly as possible. As I was about
leaving the General's quarters, he called to me, "Here, come back!" I
went back, and he continued: "I want you to understand that you are to
work for me now. I don't want you to tattle on the picket line. I have
been told that you have sometimes reported to your Colonel; you might as
well report to a _corporal_ as to a Colonel, unless he sends you out. I
want you to report to me."
"General, explain to me, if you please, what that means. I have never
reported to a Colonel but once."
"Well, _that's once_ too much. That's the reason the detachment of
Armstrong's cavalry was not captured, that you reported to General Ross,
the other day."
I begged the General's pardon, and promised to do better. I have been
very careful since not to report to any body but the officer that sent
me out.
I selected Sergeant E. W. Quackenbush, of the 20th Ohio, to accompany
me. He had been with me on previous scouts. We were on foot, disguised
like rebel soldiers belonging to artillery.
Owing to the lateness of the hour of our departure, when night came on
we had made but about seven miles. Stopping at the gate in front of a
farm-house, just before dark, and, addressing the man of the house, who
was standing on the porch, I said: "Halloo, mister, can we get a little
supper here, and stay all night?"
"Well, no, sir; the Yankees have done taken all that I had; you can't
get any supper here."
"Partner," said I to the Sergeant, "let us go on. Blast that man's
picture! he'll hear from me some day to pay for treating his _own
soldiers_ in that way!"
"Hold on, soldiers!" said the man; "where do you belong?"
"I am Orderly Sergeant of Price's 1st Battery of Artillery," I replied,
"and this man with me belongs to the same battery. We were captured by
the Yankees, and have succeeded in getting away from them; we have been
without any thing to eat for twenty-four hours."
"Yes, yes!" said the man's wife, who had heard what had been said; "you
_can_ have something to eat, and you can have the best bed in the house!
Come in, boys, come in."
We went in and sat down. "You were in the fight on the Hatchee, the
other day, were you?" said the man.
"Yes, till we got captured."
"Well, how did the fight come off?"
"I can't tell you very much about it. When we had fired only three
rounds, some Lincoln cavalry charged right up to us, and captured us and
our battery, and immediately sent us to the rear; consequently, I don't
know much about it."
"I declare!" said he; "I _would like to hear_ from the fight!"
"Have you lived in these parts long?"
"Yes, I was raised in this county."
"You have taken the _oath_ to the Lincoln Government, I suppose?"
"Yes, we _all_ do that. I was obliged to do it, but I don't consider it
binding at all. I have been in the Confederate army fifteen months! You
didn't know that, did you, boys?"
"No; you had better keep that thing to yourself, for if the Yankees find
it out they'll hang you."
"Pshaw! I am not afraid of their finding it out. But, come boys, I see
that supper is ready; sit up and eat some supper."
The lady of the house had prepared us a meal worthy of veterans in a
nobler cause than we feigned to represent. The table was bountifully
supplied. In times of peace a better table would rarely have been set.
It had been a long time since our eyes had rested upon such a meal. I
think, however, that we did the subject justice.
Having finished our supper and shoved back, the Sergeant began to show
signs of drowsiness, and in a few minutes was asleep in his chair.
"That's a _brave, gallant soldier_," said I. "Very few men have the
_daring_ and the _courage_ that he possesses; but I see that the _poor
fellow is tired out with his hardships, and has gone to sleep_."
"_Poor soldier!_" exclaimed the lady. "_How the poor soldiers do have to
suffer!_"
"Yes, and there are very few persons, outside of the army, that realize
the hardships and sufferings that the soldiers have to endure."
"_God bless their brave hearts!_" she exclaimed; "_How I do pity them!_"
The "poor soldier" was wakened up and shown to bed. Before retiring, I
took off my belt and revolver, and, handing it to the man, I said: "Now,
mister, I would like to ask another favor of you. Can't you take this
revolver and keep watch for us to-night, while we sleep, so that we can
_both_ get one good night's sleep? Can't you afford to do that much for
us? We have got away from the Yankees, and we don't want to be captured
again."
"Yes, I'll stand guard for you. How did you keep the Yankees from taking
your revolver?"
"I had it rolled up in my coat, and I carried my coat under my arm; they
did not suspect that I had one."
"Well, that was lucky, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was lucky for me, but my partner lost his."
I then retired to bed. Before I had gone to sleep, the man visited my
room, and said: "If the Yankees come, you must unhook the window-blind,
shove it open, and jump out, and run down into a gully behind the stable
and hide, and when the Yankees are all done gone, I'll come down and
tell you." For some time before closing my eyes in sleep, I could hear
the man pacing back and forth across the floor, like a sentry pacing
his beat. The night passed away and we enjoyed a most refreshing sleep,
under the "_guarding influence_" of our secesh friend. We arose early in
the morning to renew our journey, and found our guard still on duty. We
were about to leave, when the man said, "You'll stop with us to
breakfast, won't you?" "No, I thank you; we should be glad to, but we
_must_ go, for I am afraid that the Yankees will be after us by-and-by,
and we do not want to get captured again. We are under very great
obligations to you for our excellent supper and the refreshing sleep
that we have had. You have been a soldier, and you know, by experience,
_how very grateful_ a soldier feels for such kindness." We then shook
hands with him and his wife, bade them a good-by, and went on.
When we had traveled about six miles, we came to a large, fine, white
house, with every thing about it that indicated wealth and refinement.
Our walk had created an appetite for breakfast, and we concluded to give
the people of the house a call. I noticed, as we entered, that breakfast
was about ready. Addressing myself to the lady of the house, said I,
"Can we get some breakfast here this morning? We are in rather a tight
place. We were captured by the Yankees in the fight on the Hatchee, and
we have run away from them; they have robbed us of all our money, and we
have got nothing to pay you with."
"Why, certainly you can have some breakfast. How you _poor soldiers do
have to suffer_! Sit down and rest yourselves."
We sat down, and but a few minutes elapsed before breakfast was ready,
when we were invited to sit up with the family. The Sergeant was seated
next to the lady, and I next to him. I had finished my breakfast, and
was about shoving back, when the lady of the house said: "_Don't be in a
hurry, my dear soldiers; eat all you want_; we have got plenty. You
don't know when you will get any thing to eat again."
I thanked her, and shoved back. When the Sergeant had finished, she
said: "_Now, dear soldiers_, fill your pockets with those nice wheat
biscuits. The Lord only knows when you will get any thing more. _How I
do pity you!_"
The Sergeant declined, but she insisted. "You _must_ take some. As
likely as not you won't get any thing again for several days; _do_ take
some. Here, take these," (and she began to stuff them into his pockets,
which she continued until she had filled them full.) "_There_; how
nicely they will relish."
"Partner," said I, "we had better be getting back to the woods again,
for the Yankees might come along and find us."
"Yes," said the lady, "_do be very careful_. Don't let them take you if
you can help it, for you don't know how much you might have to suffer.
_How glad I am to help you!_"
Thanking her for her good wishes and kindness, we proceeded on our way.
That lady was a _noble, generous-hearted_ woman, and her eyes sparkled
with crystals of sympathy while she was bestowing upon us those little
acts of kindness. So full had she filled the Sergeant's pockets with
cakes, that they rendered him uncomfortable while walking, and he was
obliged to throw part of them away.
The next house that we stopped at was occupied by an elderly lady, who,
when we entered, was engaged in churning. She invited us to be seated,
and then said: "Have you been in the fight?"
"Yes, we were in the fight and were captured, and have made our escape."
"Dear me! how anxious I do feel about my husband!"
"Was he in the fight?"
"Yes, he took his gun and went down to help whip the Yankees; I am so
afraid that he is killed that I don't know what to do! What a dreadful
thing it would be if he should get killed!"
We listened to the lady's expressions of anxiety about her husband until
the churning was finished, when she gave us some buttermilk to drink,
which, with some of our nice wheat cakes, made us an excellent lunch.
From there we went on, without seeing any thing of interest until we
came to the vicinity of Middleton. As we approached that place, we saw a
dense smoke arise, and smelt a peculiar odor, which was so strong and
peculiar as to attract our attention, and lead us to suspect that all
was not right. We moved along cautiously, keeping a sharp look-out for
soldiers or guerrillas. As we rose to the top of the hill to the west of
the town, we could see a large fire, and about thirty men standing
around it, with long poles in their hands. The odor that arose was
almost intolerable. This was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. We crept
up as near as we could without exposing ourselves to full view, and
then--_oh, horrible to tell!_--we could see the men move about
excitedly, and push with their poles something into the fire. Then
sparks would fill the air, and we could hear screams like those of human
beings. Amid the screams would arise horrid oaths, and cries of "_Bring
on another!_"
I did not see a human form in the fire; but that _odor, those screams_,
intermingled with such _horrid blasphemy_, was _unmistakable evidence_
that some poor mortal was suffering the _hellish torture_ of a band of
guerrillas! Perhaps some brave soldier, unable to keep up with his
command on its return from the late battle; or some citizen, whose
loyalty made him dare to breathe his sentiments; or, some poor mortal so
unfortunate as to possess a sable complexion, was there, immolated upon
the altar of fiendish revenge. As much used to sights of suffering as I
have been, the recollection of that scene, as I call it to mind, makes
me shudder to think of it.
We did not dare to remain there long, lest it might be our turn next to
gratify their hellish barbarism. We went back down the hill, and took
off in another direction. We soon found the country full of guerrillas
and squads of soldiers, that had become routed during the fight. They
were gathering together in small squads wherever they could, some with
arms and some without. The victory to the Federal troops had been a
complete route of Price's army.
I did not go as far as I had intended to go, because the state of the
country was such that I deemed it imprudent to venture further; so we
returned to camp the next day. I did not find out where the scattered
troops were concentrating.