THE BATTLE OF PERRYVILLE.
Referring back to the balance of the brigade we left formed on the pike,
nine miles from town: Couriers were sent them and to our little battery,
to follow us and catch up as fast as they could, which they tried to do.
When near the Fair Grounds they fell into the enemy’s infantry and
artillery support, but successfully moved around them, losing only a few
killed and wounded and taken prisoners; our loss in killed and wounded
was very small.
The cause of our being cut off was through General Wheeler, who had
occupied the Taylorsville Pike, moving into Bardstown the night before,
sending a courier to Colonel Wharton with a dispatch ordering him to
move in also. This courier was captured, which of course, proved
valuable information to the enemy and on which they acted by throwing
this heavy cavalry, infantry and artillery forces across our line of
retreat.
This brilliant achievement of Wharton’s extricating his brigade from
this trap, secured his promotion to that of Brigadier-General, the same
as Forrest’s exploit in the capture of Murfreesboro had secured his
commission as Brigadier-General.
After leaving Bardstown our army continued its movement towards
Perryville, its rear covered by our cavalry, all under the command of
General Joe Wheeler. We pursued the same tactics that we did between
Louisville and Bardstown, taking up favorable positions only to be
driven from them by the large force of the enemy, usually by their
superior artillery and heavy flank movements, thereby retarding their
advance and giving our infantry, artillery and wagon train ample time to
keep out of their way, also enabling some part of the cavalry to collect
valuable army stores, such as provisions, stock, etc.
At Perryville we were forced to call a halt and give battle, our right
wing, commanded by General Polk, becoming actively engaged about two
o’clock in the evening.
The battlefield selected was one of the most favorable to both armies
that could have been wished for, except that the extreme left wing of
the Federal Army was caught without water until they succeeded in
reaching a spring. Both lines of battle were on wooded ridges,
intervened by a gentle valley from one and a half to three miles wide,
these ridges terminating not far from Doctor’s Creek where there was
considerable water, and which was commanded by our lines. At the head of
the valley another wooded ridge sprang up about equidistant between the
terminations of the two first mentioned ridges.
About ten o’clock we were ordered to our extreme right, commanded by
General Cheatham and our line of march in the rear of the infantry line
was discovered by the enemy, causing a concentration of their artillery
to such an extent that we were forced to drop to the rear out of their
sight. Finally we were ordered up on this wooded ridge commencing in the
center of the valley, as a corps of observation, to watch the enemy’s
extreme left and frustrate any flank movements they might undertake.
I forgot to mention that the artillery on both lines opened about
daylight and gradually developed on both lines to about one o’clock, the
infantry of both lying down and keeping out of sight. While on the ridge
as stated, acting as a corps of observation, General Wharton, with his
field glass, discovered a body of Federal cavalry, loaded with canteens,
at a spring at the foot of the mountain they were occupying and called
to the command, “About a half dozen of you get off your horses and drive
that cavalry away from the spring.” As the mountain or ridge we were on,
on the side next to the enemy, was very rocky and precipitous, the
necessity of dismounting was apparent. I, with five or six others,
obeyed the order and we were soon down in the valley, charging this
spring, when this cavalry, with their long range Spencer rifles, took
position behind a rock fence and opened on us. We had only one long
range gun, in addition to six-shooters and knowing that the eyes of our
own command, as well as Cheatham’s Division of infantry were watching
us, we never considered a halt, but charged right on to them and, with
our pistols, drove them away from the spring. We followed them around
the foot of their ridge, past a house in the rear of the ridge, then
down a line of fence, while they passed into the field and finally into
a cedar thicket. We decided that we had better retire. We had started to
do so, when one of these fellows came out of the thicket, riding a gray
horse and called to us, waving his pistol. We turned loose on him with
our pistols and drove him back into the thicket. We again started to
retire, when he made his appearance again, pursuing the same tactics,
when one of our boys, who had an Enfield rifle, the only gun in the
party, crept down the outside line of the fence, unseen by them, until
about even with the thicket and when the fellow made his appearance
again, the third time, he fired on him, tumbling him off his horse. This
brought a shout from our party, when simultaneously with our shout, a
battery opened on the extreme left of the ridge, almost right over us,
but they were not shooting at us. Still we knew unless we hurried out of
there, we would be caught, and immediately proceeded to do so. When we
got in sight of the ridge occupied by our cavalry, we discovered the
object of their artillery fire, which was shelling a party General
Wharton had sent around, leading our horses, to bring them to us. Before
we got half way across we found our regiment sweeping around the foot of
the mountain, across the valley, up on the enemy’s ridge and as soon as
they were out of sight in the dense woods on the ridge, they fell into
the enemy’s infantry behind a stone fence, which poured volleys into
them and it is hardly necessary to say, badly scattered them, and they
left a number of killed and wounded on the field. In the meantime,
General Cheatham and staff had been seen crossing the valley to the
point where our regiment was engaged, followed by his strong line of
infantry. General Cheatham called to our scattered forces to “take this
cavalry out of here and let my people take a hand,” which they did as
soon as they got within range of this stone fence. This fence was
defended by the enemy’s infantry at close quarters with clubbed guns and
bayonets, but they finally yielded and were driven, inch by inch, off
the mountain to their rear. This was the opening of the battle of
Perryville and occurred about two o’clock in the evening. Among the dead
left temporarily on the field was Captain Mark Evans, shot through the
center of the head. The reader will remember that a few days before he
saved my life and assisted me in swapping horses with the Federal in the
Bardstown fight.
After rallying his forces General Wharton moved around in the rear of
this wooded ridge and, while moving parallel with this ridge in the
valley beyond, discovered an ordnance train in a lane about a quarter of
a mile to our right, and prepared to charge it. Immediately a battery of
four pieces opened on us on our flank, compelling us to withdraw, as we
were satisfied that this battery was supported by a heavy force of
infantry. Under this fire of artillery we had a complete set of fours
cut down by one cannon ball or shell that passed through the bodies of
four horses, cutting off both legs of one man below the knee, but not
injuring the three other men, who mounted behind other comrades and rode
off the field. This set of fours was just in front of the set of which I
constituted a part and, on the spur of the moment, I stopped with our
wounded friend to assist him. When attempting to hand him my canteen, to
give him water, my horse pulled back completely out of his reach,
preventing giving him water, which I could not throw to him, as the
stopper of the canteen was lost, when Jared Gross, seeing our
predicament, came back to assist me. Our command, in the meantime, had
gone forward into a piece of timber, out of sight of the artillery. When
Jared rode up pretty close to me I suggested that we had better keep
apart as this artillery had the range on us, and we had barely separated
when they fired another shot which cut the side of the mountain and
would certainly have got us both if we had failed to separate. We were
compelled to leave poor Duncan on the field, where he was afterwards
attended by our surgeon and taken to a house and left inside of the
enemy’s lines the next day. We never heard of him any more, assuming
that he died, as the shock was too great, in connection with the loss of
blood, for him to survive.