BRAGG’S INVASION OF KENTUCKY.
Our army was moved to Chattanooga, Tenn., by two routes: one by Selma,
the other by Mobile. We went by train to Mobile, and there embarked on
the side-wheel steamer _Dixie_, and were three days and nights reaching
Montgomery, Ala., where we camped a few days, and then went by train to
Atlanta, thence to Chattanooga. While we were on the Alabama River near
Selma our boat landed for wood, and the boys spied a watermelon patch,
and in a few moments the entire crop, green or ripe, had disappeared.
In the meantime the owner boarded the boat, and Colonel Fields ordered
every man to pay the farmer for the melons, and that he should be paid
for either green or ripe; and the farmer got his pay. We remained for
some days in Chattanooga, and on August 19 we were ferried across the
Tennessee River on a steamboat, and took up our line of march across
Walden’s Ridge toward Pikeville and Sparta. When we reached Sparta,
it was in ashes. Instead of proceeding to Nashville, we went to
Gainesboro, where we crossed the Cumberland River, and were on the dark
and bloody ground of Kentucky. While the march over Walden’s Ridge and
the Cumberland Mountains was a little fatiguing, they did not compare
with Cheat and other Virginia mountains. Yet we were to encounter a
march which was full of suffering, but of a variety which we were to
experience for the first time. After we left Tomkinsville, Ky., we
met a drought then prevailing in Kentucky. The dirt roads were very
dusty, and sometimes we could not see ten feet ahead. The perspiration
caused clots of mud to form in our eyebrows, hair, whiskers, and
mustaches. At nightfall when we went into camp, very little water could
be found, and frequently we drank out of the ponds in the barn lots.
How many wiggletails and tadpoles I have drunk will never be known.
When we reached Glasgow, Ky., General Buell was moving his army out
of Nashville. There was a garrison (well fortified) of four thousand
Federals at Woodsonville, a village of three or four houses opposite
Munfordville, Ky. It was General Bragg’s intention to capture this
fort before General Buell could reach there. A short time previous
to this, General Chalmers, of Mississippi, had stormed this fort and
lost twelve hundred men. Our object was to get in the rear of these
fortifications. We left Glasgow at sunrise with one day’s rations, and
marched rapidly in an easterly direction. We had some twelve thousand
men and twenty-seven pieces of artillery. In marching along the road
shaded by a lot of black-jack trees, we saw a countryman with a barrel
of water on a sled drawn by a horse. We did not ask for a drink, but in
a few moments the barrel was empty. The poor fellow said: “I have not a
drop of water at home, and my wife and children are suffering.” We felt
sorry for him, but such is war.
We crossed Green River before midnight, and about 3 A.M. we were in
Munfordville, and formed a line of battle in the suburbs of the town.
Company B was in the cemetery, and I slept until sunup with a grave
for a pillow. Our artillery had been placed in position not far from
the Louisville and Nashville bridge, and considerably higher than the
Federal fort in Woodsonville. They saw that we were in a position to
shell them out, and at sunrise up went the white flag, and we marched
four thousand prisoners out and paroled them. The advance of General
Buell’s army had reached Bowling Green; and in a few days many of
his men reached our line without guns and surrendered, saying that
they were tired of the war. After the capture we expected General
Bragg to do one of two things: either move on General Buell at Cave
City, or go to Louisville. The authorities in Louisville expected the
latter, and every able-bodied man in Louisville was called on to throw
up fortifications; but General Bragg did neither of the two things
expected, but he marched us eight miles toward Louisville and went
into camp at Bacon Creek. Next day he marched us back to Munfordville,
and then again to Bacon Creek; and one night we camped at the side of
the old stage road near Bacon Creek, and it poured rain all night.
The little sleep I got was on three rails. From Bacon Creek the army
moved through Elizabethtown, Hodgenville, New Haven, and went into
camp at Bardstown, Ky., twenty-seven miles from Louisville. While
here Governor Hawes was inaugurated Governor of the State. General
Bragg issued a proclamation calling on the Kentuckians to flock to his
standard, and we fired a few volleys from the artillery, which broke
all the glass in the windows of the courthouse. While we were in camp
at Bardstown, General Buell’s army marched to Louisville; and while
we were playing soldier and living high in the blue grass country and
losing men, General Buell was recruiting his army, and was soon ready
for an advance; and we moved to Springfield, Perryville, Danville, and
from Danville to Harrodsburg, and then back to Perryville—a forty-mile
march to no purpose, for we did not need the exercise. On the night of
October 7, 1862, we marched again through Harrodsburg and bivouacked
after midnight in the suburbs of the little town of Perryville. When we
formed in line and stacked guns for a few hours’ rest, Company B was
again in a cemetery. Was it a bad omen that twice recently our company
slept in a cemetery?
Next morning Company B moved out of the cemetery to cook one day’s
rations. Seven of my mess dipped their hands in the same skillet. They
were all stalwart men of brawny arm. That evening when the smoke of
battle lifted, five of my comrades were dead, and the sixth wounded.
Early in the morning we formed in line and moved slowly through the
town on the Harrodsburg pike, which we left some half mile beyond
Perryville, and turned to the left, crossing Chaplin Creek, or river,
as it is called there. About three o’clock we were in line of battle on
our extreme right and in a valley of the Chaplin River two and one-half
miles from Perryville. There had been some skirmishing before our
arrival, and about three o’clock the musketry and cannonading became
quite brisk, the shells falling around us as we climbed the fence in
battle line. We crossed Chaplin River, ascended a high bluff, and when
we reached the height Colonel Savage’s Sixteenth Regiment was hotly
engaged with the enemy. To uncover from Colonel Savage we had to move
by the right flank, and while executing this move some of our men were
wounded. When we uncovered, we again moved by the left flank. General
Leonidas Polk rode up and asked: “What regiment is this?” The answer
was: “The First Tennessee.” He then said: “Capture that battery.”
It was Parsons’s eight-gun battery, supported by an Ohio brigade
(Germans) in command of General Jackson, of Hopkinsville, Ky. They
would not stand the charge, but ran in great disorder, leaving the
battery in our possession. In attempting to rally them General Jackson
was killed, and his body fell in our line of march. On a hill in the
rear of where we captured the Parsons battery was Bush’s Indiana
battery, supported by the First and Twenty-first Wisconsin Regiments
and another brigade of infantry. In charging this battery we uncovered
our left flank, and were subjected to an enfilade fire from the enemy,
which played havoc with our men. We had ten men killed in attempting
to carry the colors. We lost some two hundred and fifty men in a short
time. Our boys got so close to the battery that the smoke covered
them. Young Tom Lanier was killed some thirty feet from the battery,
not by the artillery, because we were under the crest of the hill,
and the pieces could not be depressed so as to reach us, but the men
supporting the battery were the ones that caused most of our trouble.
Colonel Patterson was slightly wounded in the wrist, but he tied a
handkerchief around it and continued to give orders until a grapeshot
hit his mustache, going through his head, killing him instantly.
Captain Pilcher was quartermaster, but he was in the thickest of the
fray, receiving a wound that came near causing his death. Company B
lost fourteen killed and thirteen wounded. Among the dead was a young
man named Robert S. Hamilton. He came to Nashville in 1860, and was a
proof reader in the Southern Methodist Publishing House. We were very
intimate friends. He was an ardent secessionist, while his family in
Kentucky were divided on the war question. In the charge Robert was
shot through the forehead, and fell not far from where Tom Lanier and
gallant Jack Goodbar fell. Colonel Fields detailed me to stay and take
care of the wounded and do the best I could to bury the dead. After
getting all the wounded off, with the aid of reflected rays from a
burning barn which the exploding shells fired, I penned the following:
BATTLEFIELD, PERRYVILLE, KY., October 8, 1862.
_Mrs. W. C. Hamilton, Lexington, Ky._: Robert was killed in gallant
charge this evening. Will take care of remains until you arrive.
MARCUS B. TONEY.
Mrs. Hamilton was Robert’s sister-in-law, and I wrote to her because
his brother, W. C. Hamilton, was a Union man, and Robert never wrote
a line to him; but all his correspondence was with his sister-in-law,
and he always read her letters to me; therefore I wrote to the
sister-in-law rather than to the brother. The blue and the gray mingled
together all that night removing the wounded. I approached one of the
blue and asked him if he would deliver the note to Mrs. Hamilton, and
he promised me that he would.
It was a sad sight that night as I gazed upon the upturned, ghastly
faces of our dead; and the cries of the wounded for “water!” “water!”
“water!” were heartrending. Before daylight all of our wounded had
been brought from the field. A farmer named Goodnight, who lived some
half mile from the battlefield, had deserted his house on the eve of
battle, and we turned it into a hospital. On the second floor in the
small room were the following: J. H. Woldridge, B. P. Steele, T. H.
Maney, M. B. Pilcher, Mac Campbell, Lute Irwin, J. H. Wheless, and
Lieutenant Hammond. These eight men were my patients. Four of them were
on the bedsteads and four on the floor. Comrade Woldridge lost both of
his eyes, and Captain Pilcher, Captain Steele, Lieutenant Maney, Mac
Campbell, and Lute Irwin were all badly wounded. For three nights I did
not close my eyes in sleep.
About the third day after the battle a messenger came upstairs and
said that a lady was in waiting to see me. This was my first meeting
with Mrs. Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton was with her, and they brought a
hearse and casket, and a carryall with blankets and provisions for
our wounded. I accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton to the battlefield.
I had buried twenty-seven of the Rock City Guards in a gully near by
where they fell, and not far from the battery that they charged so
gallantly. I did not have any implement to bury with, but with the use
of a breastplate taken from the body of a dead Federal I invented a
tool which formed a kind of scoop, and with this covered our boys with
the dirt. I had buried Robert Hamilton at the head of the twenty-seven,
and when we reached the spot I raked the dirt from his face and
said: “Mrs. Hamilton, this is Robert.” “Is it possible,” she replied,
“that these are Robert’s remains?” I said: “I will soon satisfy you.”
Reaching down, I caught one of his hands, and, brushing the dirt away,
I said to her: “Do you see this?” She replied: “I am satisfied.” Robert
was a very studious young man, and in his deep studies I have seen
him bite his nails to the quick, and frequently brought blood. When
Mrs. Hamilton saw the hand and the condition of the finger nails, she
knew they were Robert’s. When the body was taken to the hospital and
prepared for burial, there was no doubt in her mind. We expected to
bury W. J. Whitthorne, of the Maury Grays, Columbia, Tenn., but the
body could not be found. He was shot through the neck, and Dr. Buist
said that he would not live until we got him to the hospital. Billy
Whitthorne, as we all called him, is living this year (1907). He raised
a company at Columbia during the Spanish-American War, and went to
the Philippines. He was elected major in the regular army, and later
lieutenant colonel of the First Tennessee National Guards, and I am
a private in Company B, Confederate Veterans, of the Guards. We had
a similar case in John Sullivan, the gallant Irishman of the Martin
Guards. His wife accompanied him to the war, and was very valuable in
assisting the boys in needlework and cooking. Sullivan had a hole in
his forehead that exposed a part of the brain. Mrs. Sullivan was at
the hospital when the fight was going on, and when we reported after
midnight that John was left on the field for dead she said that she
would go out and look after him. She was a stalwart woman, and brought
John on her shoulder to the hospital. About two weeks after that
Dr. Buist bought a carryall, placed Captain Woldridge, Mr. and Mrs.
Sullivan in it, and started them through the country to Pulaski. Near
Lebanon, Ky., they were captured and sent to prison.
A few weeks after the battle Captain Steele was removed to Harrodsburg,
and Mrs. C. H. Rochester came after Captain Pilcher, T. H. Maney, S. B.
Shearon, and myself, and we were taken to her residence, near Danville,
Ky., where we were royally entertained. Colonel Rochester and the elder
sons were in the Confederate army, leaving Mrs. Rochester and the young
ladies and boys at home. The families of Captain Merritt S. Pilcher,
George S. Kinney, and Henry C. Hensley had refugeed from Nashville to
Louisville.
Dr. Buist sent a message to Captain M. S. Pilcher saying that if Matt
were sent to prison he could not possibly survive. Captain Merritt
Pilcher had a stanch friend in Louisville, Mr. John B. Smith, who stood
very close to General Jere Boyle, commanding that district, and through
his influence we received the following:
HEADQUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF KENTUCKY.
LOUISVILLE, October 13, 1862.
The bearers hereof, Capt. Matthew B. Pilcher and Private Marcus B.
Toney, will be allowed to report at these headquarters without a
guard so soon as the wound of Captain Pilcher’s will permit.
JERE BOYLE, _General_.
We remained at Mrs. Rochester’s nearly four months, and almost
despaired of getting Captain Pilcher to Louisville. In addition to
his great suffering from the wound, a spell of pneumonia gave him a
setback. Soon after convalescing he came near bleeding to death, and I
mounted a horse and went rapidly to Harrodsburg for Dr. Buist. Finally
he recovered so far as to allow us to proceed, and he desired to go
via Lexington to visit for a few days his relatives, Mr. Hiram Shaw
and family; so we proceeded to Nicholasville by stage, and thence to
Lexington by rail. Mr. Shaw was a stanch Union man, and was a dealer in
gents’ furnishing goods. A few weeks before we reached there, General
Morgan’s men raided his store, exchanging their old headgear for his
fine hats, and some of the boys wore off his best tiles; therefore I
felt a hesitancy in going to the Shaw domicile. But we were treated
in a most generous manner. A few nights after reaching there, we paid
a visit to another family of the Shaws, where there were three young
ladies. General J. Q. A. Gilmore was a visitor, and he asked one of
the ladies who we were. She informed him, and the next day we received
orders to report to General Gilmore’s headquarters. Accordingly we did
so, and he said in a very brusque manner: “I wish to know by whose
authority you Rebels are free.” I replied, “By authority of General
Jere Boyle, of Louisville”; and I placed our parole in his hands. He
glanced over it, and said: “This is not General Boyle’s district; I am
commanding here, and my name is General J. Q. A. Gilmore. You will get
ready to go to Louisville with a guard this evening. Report here at
three o’clock.” I said: “All right, General Gilmore. Your order will be
obeyed, but we were ignorant of the infringement on your territory.”
At 3 P.M. we were there, and so was the guard with his gun. We wired
Captain Pilcher that we would be in about 8 P.M., under guard. When we
reached Frankfort, we found that the railroad bridge had been burned,
and we had to cross on the ferry. In going through the city many ladies
turned out and escorted us to the ferry. When we reached Louisville,
Captain Meritt S. Pilcher was pacing up and down the platform, and
appeared more disturbed than we were. After greeting us, he said:
“Boys, I have been trying all day to see General Boyle; but one of
his children has smallpox, and he is at home. The officer of the day
says he cannot release you, and you will have to go to prison at Tenth
and Broadway.” We could do nothing but obey. When we reached the pen
we found there four hundred prisoners who had been captured at Fort
Donelson. It was quite a filthy place, without sleeping accommodations.
We had some salt pork, stale bread, and coffee without sugar. As we
had been living for four months on the fat of the blue grass region,
we could not eat the prison diet, and were glad to hear our names
called at the wicket about nine o’clock next morning, where we signed
parole to the National Hotel; and when we reached the sidewalk we
found Captain Pilcher and Mr. John B. Smith with a carriage, and they
escorted us to the hotel. We remained at the hotel for six weeks,
waiting for the flag-of-truce boat for exchange. After the first week’s
confinement at the hotel, General Boyle extended our parole so as
to allow us to attend church on Sunday, and we first went to Sunday
school and then went to services at 11 A.M. Sometimes we went to hear
the big gun of the Baptist Church, Dr. Lorimer, and then to hear Dr.
Craik, of the Episcopal Church, and at 3 P.M. we attended vespers at
the Cathedral, and at night church again. One Sunday morning in Dr.
Lorimer’s church Captain Pilcher was asked to teach the Bible class,
and in the class were some of the boys in blue. The Southern people in
Louisville treated us with much consideration and kindness, and the
people who differed with us on the war issue treated us with respect.
In the churches and on the streets we were frequently detained for hand
shakes. We wore Confederate uniforms, but General Boyle requested that
the brass buttons be covered. The Southern ladies visited us frequently
at the hotel, and we returned many of the visits at their residences on
Sunday. I recall these names among those who were exceedingly kind to
us: Miss Fanny Jack, Miss Kate Quarrier, Miss Mary Miller, Miss Anna
Caldwell, Miss Nina Smith (who after the war married Mr. H. Victor
Newcomb, and later Mr. Ten Broeck). Captain Pilcher and myself did not
indulge in wine, so we were much amused to receive from Miss Fanny
Jack a bottle of wine with this toast: “Believe that in every drop of
wine contained in this bottle is _mingled_ a heartfelt prayer for the
_ultimate_ success of the Southern Confederacy.” Evidently it was the
toast which Miss Fanny wished us to enjoy rather than the wine. So the
time drew near when we were to journey to Fortress Monroe for exchange
at City Point, and Mr. John B. Smith called on General Boyle for an
order to proceed without a guard. General Boyle said that he could
favor us only as far as Cincinnati, and gave us the following:
HEADQUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF KENTUCKY,
LOUISVILLE, April 9, 1863.
_General Ambrose E. Burnside, Cincinnati, Ohio_: Capt. M. B. Pilcher
and Private M. B. Toney have been on parole from these headquarters
since the battle of Perryville, and have faithfully kept it. I will
therefore be obliged if you will allow them to proceed to Fortress
Monroe without a guard.
JERE BOYLE,
_General Commanding Department of Kentucky_.
Armed with this document and escorted by a large number of friends, we
proceeded to board the steamer _General Lytle_. One of the ladies had
purchased for me a large silk handkerchief. It was plain on one side,
but on the other was the bonnie blue flag, and as the _General Lytle_
steamed out from the levee Captain Pilcher and I were on the hurricane
roof, and I unfurled my banner to the breeze, and received the cheers
from the assembled multitude on the levee. We stopped at the Burnett
House. Next morning at breakfast I said to Captain Pilcher: “There is
General Burnside.” He was sitting two tables from us. General Burnside
at that time was trying Mr. Vallandigham for treason, and banished him
through our lines at Shelbyville. I agreed with Captain Pilcher not
to report as yet to General Burnside, because there were some friends
in Covington whom we wished to meet, and did meet in our room at the
hotel; and they got into such a boisterous discussion that one of
them said: “Hush, boys; walls have ears.” When we reported to General
Burnside with General Boyle’s letter, I noticed his brows contract, and
he looked at us fiercely and said in a very abrupt manner: “This is a
very peculiar request from General Boyle, and one entirely contrary to
War Department orders. _I cannot grant it._” I replied: “Very well,
General; do with us as you will, as we are subject to your orders.” He
thought a while and said: “I will do this: place you in charge of a
lieutenant with his side arms. That will be better than going with a
soldier and gun over you. Report here at six o’clock to take the train
for Baltimore.” We reported at six o’clock, and met the lieutenant,
whom we found to be a nice gentleman and very companionable. We arrived
in Baltimore and registered at the Barnum Hotel. After supper we
retired early.
The next morning the lieutenant, after a visit to the provost marshal’s
office, said that the flag-of-truce boat would not sail for several
days, and that they had smallpox very bad there. He said that we would
remain in Baltimore. After breakfast he said: “Boys, I am going to
see the city. I know you do not wish to go with me, and I don’t care
to stay with you. If you are arrested, tell them to wait till I come
with the papers.” Captain Pilcher and I had a letter to Noah Walker,
wholesale clothier, and we started to his store, but had gone only two
squares when we were arrested as spies. We told the detective that we
were under orders for exchange, and under the control of a lieutenant
of the United States Army, and if he did not believe our story he could
accompany us to the hotel, which he did, and waited several hours. When
our lieutenant returned he was very angry, and cursed and abused the
detective severely. Next morning I said: “Lieutenant, we want to call
at Noah Walker’s. We wish you would go with us to the door, where you
can leave us and resume your sight-seeing.” So he did. We presented
our letter to Mr. Walker, and had a pleasant chat with him. He inquired
especially after his friends in Louisville. When we arose to take our
leave, he said: “Boys, wait a while. Come this way.” We followed him
up four flights of stairs. Coming to the fifth story, he unlocked a
door and we entered another narrow flight of stairs; he locked the
door on the inside, and put the key in his pocket. When we reached the
head of the stairs, we found a large stock of Confederate uniforms.
He said: “Mum is the word. I am running the blockade with these; and
if it were known by the Federal authorities, my entire stock would be
confiscated.” We told him that our lips would be sealed. He said: “I
did not bring you up here for a display, but I want each of you boys to
select an overcoat.” We did so, and he sent them to the hotel. The next
morning we took passage on the Bay Line steamer for Fortress Monroe.
Just after leaving Baltimore I saw a commotion in the ladies’ cabin,
and heard the word “Rebel” uttered excitedly. Presently the captain
came to us and said: “Boys, I have an old lady aboard who is a regular
virago. She says that she does not want to travel on the same boat with
Rebels. I told her that you had paid first-class fare and were entitled
to cabin-fare passage, but that doesn’t quiet her. She is creating a
terrible furor with the passengers. I wish you would go down on the
deck. I will send your supper to you, the best we have on the table,
and after supper I will bring you up to your stateroom.”
The captain was a Baltimorean and a Southern sympathizer, and to
accommodate him we went below till after the old lady retired, when
we turned in to dream of the flag of truce. I hope the old lady has
reached that land where there are no Rebels to molest or make her
afraid.
When we awoke next morning, we were landed near the truce boat. The
lieutenant took a receipt for us from the exchange officer, and bade
us good-by as if he were sad in leaving us. I am sure we were sorry to
give him up, as he was exceedingly kind to us. I wish that I had kept
his name. We asked to be remembered to General Burnside for sending
such a clever officer with us. Soon after boarding the truce boat we
were sailing up the historic James River. The next morning we landed at
City Point, where a like number of Federals were to be exchanged for
us. Many cases of smallpox were on the lower deck of our truce boat,
and it was difficult to get help to unload. Finally the captain said
that if they were not removed he would take them back, so I volunteered
to carry the patients off.
The exchange officer said that he would have to separate the officers
and privates and send us to our commands in that manner. He was
rather brusque in his order, which irritated us. Captain Pilcher
said: “We have been in the hands of the enemy for six months. They
not only would not allow us to be separated, but treated us in a more
respectful manner than you have.” This appeared to put a quietus on the
officer, and he allowed us to proceed together, which we did as far
as Knoxville, when we separated on account of the following accident.
About fifteen miles west of Bristol, at three o’clock in the morning,
Captain Pilcher and I, with a lot of soldiers, were in the rear car,
when a brake beam broke and fell in front of our trucks, throwing our
car from the track and dragging it until it reached a sharp curve,
when the coupling pin broke and we turned over several times, landing
near the edge of the Watauga River. Captain Pilcher said that the
first voice that he heard from the groans of the wounded was my query:
“Captain, are you hurt?” He replied: “Yes; take these wounded men off
of me.”
As soon as we went over the lamps were smashed and it was very dark;
but with the assistance of a comrade who had only a few bruises like
mine, we succeeded in getting Captain Pilcher out through the end
window. His arm was broken, but on arrival at Knoxville he said that he
thought he would be able to travel in a week. As I had been absent for
six months, I was anxious to get back.