THE CHICKAMAUGA CAMPAIGN.
I found the regiment on Duck River in the suburbs of Shelbyville. I was
glad to be with the boys again. I did not rest long, for the regiment
was busy making detail for digging fortifications, and I worked with
pick and shovel.
The two great evils attending war are drinking and gambling. In 1863
the drink habit was much lessened in our army because the drinks were
scarce and hard to get. Mr. McGrew kept a drug store on the Square in
Shelbyville, and by some means it was ascertained that he had some
whisky in the cellar, and one night some soldiers got into it and took
the whole stock, consisting of about half a barrel; and the old mill,
situated on the river, was frequently robbed of its stock; and in
unloading commissaries at the depot the soldiers would make _mistakes_
and throw meat under the depot, and at nightfall bring it to camp.
The mania for gambling continued unabated. I have seen men gamble all
night, and do a good deal of nodding on duty the next day. If they
did not have money to gamble with, chips for fun would not be much
amusement. I have seen on the march, just previous to an engagement,
bits of pasteboard (decks of cards) scattered along so that the line
of march could almost be designated by the scraps, and also by letters
torn and scattered, because a soldier did not wish to be found dead
on the field of battle with a deck of cards in his pocket, or prying
eyes to read his letters from home; but I have never yet seen a soldier
discard the little pocket Testament that his mother gave him when she
sent him forth with her prayers.
[Illustration: THE GAMBLING MANIA.]
Shelbyville was a place that could easily be flanked, and Rosecrans
was preparing for it. General Bragg hoped to give him battle on better
vantage ground (for us), and selected Tullahoma, and we prepared to
retire to that point in good order if General Rosecrans would permit.
Our army commenced to retire—the infantry in front, General Wheeler’s
cavalry in the rear. Early in the morning I was on detail to proceed
to the Nashville and Chattanooga depot and load up the commissaries.
We worked with a will, and thought that we could get everything in the
cars, but some of the detail early in the day found a lot of whisky and
commenced to get drunk. About 3 P.M. we heard a tremendous boom, boom
of our artillery on the Square, followed by a fusillade of musketry.
The Federal cavalry had approached from the front and flank. Lieutenant
J. R. McDaniel’s (or Wiggins’s) battery made a gallant resistance, and
succeeded in getting his pieces away with the loss of only two. He
lost a number of his men, however, the enemy riding into their midst
and cutting them with sabers. In attempting to cross the Duck River
bridge General Wheeler found it blockaded and swam his horse above it,
having the belt of his sword shot away. As soon as I saw the stampede
on the Square I ran into the depot, got some clothing and shoes out
of a box there, and went down under the depot (which had open sides)
and bivouacked in the dust with hogs and fleas, which were very
industrious. After leaving the Square the Federal cavalry rode rapidly
toward the depot. One of my detail, seeing them coming, staggered out
near the Barksdale House and said that he could whip the whole Yankee
army. It was only a short while before he was in Nashville, and later
in Fort Delaware. I remained with my companions (hogs and fleas, and
the dust made a pretty soft bed) till late in the night, and then by
the aid of the stars kept in the direction of Tullahoma, where I found
the First Tennessee next day in a beautiful black-jack grove about
one mile north of the town. In front of the grove an avenue some two
hundred feet wide by one mile long had been cut out, and it was a
splendid place to fight in the open; but the enemy chose not to fight
there. General Rosecrans’s scouts came within three miles of us, our
cavalry interposed, and General Starnes was mortally wounded. After a
few days’ rest we commenced to retire toward Chattanooga, and it was a
rough march over the mountains, but nothing in comparison with Cheat
Mountain. Soon after reaching Chattanooga we were put to work building
two immense forts—one near where the Stanton House is now, and the
other near the city cemetery, in the eastern suburbs of the city. The
only service that the forts rendered was to conceal in the dirt bacon
stolen from the cars, and hid there until a favorable time to remove it
to the camp.
We had been in Chattanooga but a short time when General Rosecrans
occupied Walden’s Ridge and Raccoon Mountain. About the 15th of August
our army moved out of Chattanooga. I did not know where we were going.
In fact, it is not the business of a private soldier to know anything
except to obey orders. I did not like to leave the forts, upon which
we had expended so much labor, knowing that in a short while the enemy
would be enjoying the fruits of our labor. We moved down the valley
via Rossville, McLemore’s Cove, and next day reached Lafayette, Ga.,
where we camped; the following day we faced again toward Chattanooga,
and early next morning crossed Chickamauga River at Lee and Gordon’s
Mill, and were soon drawn up in battle array, when General Maney
stood up in his stirrups and made a speech to the Tennessee boys,
saying: “We shall soon have an opportunity of striking again for our
homes and firesides, and to acquit ourselves like men worthy of the
old Volunteer State.” Soon the firing of pickets gave notice that
the battle of Chickamauga was about to begin. As the First Tennessee
Regiment moved in line through a thick wood of oak and pine, we struck
the enemy, who were posted on a hill much higher than our position.
General Cheatham rode in advance of the line with hat in hand, and
said: “Come on, boys.” The First Tennessee charged gallantly amidst a
terrible cannonade. A shell exploded in front of us, a piece striking
the shoulder of Lieutenant W. H. Webster, of the Maury Grays, from
which he soon bled to death. The enemy’s infantry retired before our
charge, and we reached the crest of a ridge and were ordered to “lie
down.” While in this position Ensign Joe Campbell raised up on his
arm, and a shot from the enemy pierced his brain, and he was instantly
killed. The next day we were moved to the right of our army and held
in reserve nearly the entire day, and late in the evening participated
in the final charge over the enemy’s breastworks of black-jack logs,
and Chickamauga was ours, and the enemy on retreat to Chattanooga, ten
miles distant. General Bragg has been much criticised because he did
not capture General Rosecrans’s army before it was safely ensconced in
the forts upon which we had expended so much labor. If General Bragg
had had a sufficient force of fresh cavalry, the feat might have been
accomplished; but it must be borne in mind that we had been on the
move some five days and nights, with little sleep and short rations,
and when the final charge came, about dusk of September 20, our men
fell down with the dead and wounded of the enemy inside of their former
breastworks, and went to sleep. The next day we moved leisurely up
to the crest of Missionary Ridge, and we lost comrade Eugene Topp,
of Pulaski, who was shot by the enemy’s pickets as we ascended the
ridge. From Missionary Ridge we could see the enemy scattered around
Chattanooga, and occupying our former forts. We moved down from the
ridge and went into camp at the base, facing toward Chattanooga. We
also occupied Lookout Mountain, and had one piece of artillery on the
Point; but we could not throw a shell to the Nashville and Chattanooga
depot, which was about three miles distant on an air line. Soon
afterwards General Grant succeeded General Rosecrans, and he had a
lot of guns casemated at Moccasin Point. We could look down on his
batteries, but we could not depress our pieces so as to give him any
trouble. A party of us would gather at the Point to attract his fire,
and as soon as we would see the smoke, down we would fall, and the
shell would whiz over us. Our pickets were on the bench of the mountain
below the Craven House, and extended up Lookout Creek. A shell from
Moccasin Point killed and wounded five of our men at one time. I was
on picket duty one day on Lookout Creek, a Federal on the other side.
You could take a run and jump across. I asked him how rations were.
He replied that they were living on ox-tail soup. He said that Joe
Wheeler had burned a number of bridges on the Nashville and Chattanooga
Railroad between Nashville and Chattanooga, and that General Grant had
started a train of some two hundred wagons with commissary stores,
and when they reached Sequatchie Valley Joe Wheeler again appeared on
the scene and burned the entire train; the army was therefore greatly
reduced in supplies.
In 1863 Chattanooga was not much of a town; Market was the principal
street, and that was filled with a lot of insignificant shanties,
hence General Grant’s army camped over the hills upon which beautiful
residences are now located. His tents extended from the fort near
the Stanton House to the river, while General Hooker’s tents covered
Raccoon Mountain. From the top of Lookout Mountain it was a grand scene
at night—the bright camp fires of this large army; and at nine o’clock
the many bugles would blow taps, after the music from many bands had
floated upward. On the night of November 24, 1863, we moved off of
Lookout Mountain and took our position on Missionary Ridge. Part of
the First Tennessee Regiment line was directly over the tunnel. From
this position we could clearly see the entire line of General Grant’s
army moving out of Chattanooga in order of battle, extending nearly
to Rossville. Just below where the Cincinnati Southern bridge is now
located could be seen General Sherman’s army crossing on steamboats,
and it did not take him a great while to get a battery on one bench of
Missionary Ridge, which was separated from our ridge by Chickamauga
River and the Western and Atlantic Railway. I think his position was
some higher than ours, and his battery annoyed us without doing much
damage. General Grant’s lines were drawing nearer and nearer to us,
and our batteries were belching forth, and we could now and then see
his men scatter from an exploding shell. Nearer and nearer they came
until we could see the glittering steel and the flash of the officers’
swords in the sunlight; nearer and nearer they came until lost to sight
at the base of Missionary Ridge. We then took our position on the
crest of the ridge, lying down and waiting for them to come in sight.
We did not have a great while to wait. Soon we saw the long line of
bluecoats advancing. We were hugging the ridge so closely that nothing
but our heads peered over; so it was not so easy to see us, as the
bushes were quite thick and many large trees were on the ridge. When
the bluecoats got within a hundred feet of us the firing commenced,
and they continued to advance, when Colonel Fields said: “Fire, boys,
and charge.” Down the ridge we went, the enemy keeping ahead of us.
We got so close to them that Colonel Fields hit a Federal on the head
with a rock, and comrade John Branch grabbed at the colors, tearing out
a piece, but the sergeant got away with them. We followed them to the
base of the ridge, where the town of Sherman Heights is now located.
Finding them in the trenches which we had once made, we returned to the
top of the ridge. It was now dusk, and we were still in line of battle
and drawing some rations, when the order came to get away as quietly
and quickly as possible. General Grant had pierced our center, and all
were in danger of capture. We were the worst disappointed soldiers in
the army. We thought our whole line as far as Rossville had made the
same movement that we had, and would next move on General Grant and
capture his army before it could get to our forts in Chattanooga.
Well, we did not stand upon the order of our going, but went out as
rapidly as possible, every fellow taking care of himself. We went
down many ridges and crossed the Chickamauga River on the Western and
Atlantic Railroad bridge, and afterwards burned it. The next day we
came to Chickamauga Station. There was a large pile of bacon there
ready to be burned rather than to have it fall into the hands of the
enemy. I fixed my bayonet and selected a small side of bacon through
which I ran the bayonet, and was marching along thinking what a nice
fry I would have for supper, when the enemy’s guns opened on us, and
the skirmish known as Cat Creek took place. I had to unfix my bayonet
in order to load my gun, and the bacon was lost. Samuel Seay was
wounded in this skirmish, and he begged the boys not to leave him in
the hands of the enemy. We told him we would not, unless they got
us; so four of us shouldered him, and we would now and then call for
relief. We marched till late in the night before reaching Ringgold; and
although Sam Seay was a light man, he got heavier and heavier. At one
place where we crossed the Chickamauga River I got very wet, and it was
a cold night—November 26. I rolled up my trousers as high as I could,
and four of us started across with Sam, and I got into a hole up to my
waist. Finally we reached a clump of black-jacks near Ringgold, through
which ran a country road well filled with autumn leaves, and here we
made our bed. We were sleeping soundly at sunrise when General Walker
came riding swiftly, saying: “Get up, men; the Yankees will soon be
here, and they will cut your throats.” We moved out promptly, and as we
had been the rear guard the day previous, we were now in the advance.
We had just reached the narrow place where the stream is spanned by
the railroad bridge, when the battle of Ringgold was fought; but we
continued our retrograde movement until Dalton was reached, and, after
camping there for some days and the weather getting cold, we built
winter quarters south of Dalton.