CONTENTS.
| Beginning of the Great Rebellion, April 12, 1861, | 15 |
| Beginning of Three-year Service—Camp Butler and Bird’s Point—Night Trip to Belmont—A Reconnaissance into Western Kentucky, | 23 |
| New Madrid, Point Pleasant, and Island No. 10, | 39 |
| Up the Rivers to Hamburg Landing, and Thence by Land to Corinth and Cortland, Ala., | 47 |
| From Northern Alabama to Nashville, Tenn., and Its Occupation by Us—Fight at Lavergne and Many Skirmishes, | 55 |
| The Advance on Murfreesboro—Battle of Stone River—Occupation of Murfreesboro by the Federals—Cripple Creek and Tullahoma Campaign—Advance on Chattanooga and Chickamauga—Stuck in the Mud—Orders to Prevent Foraging, | 65 |
| Battle of Chickamauga—Two Days of Fearful Fighting—The Federals Holding Chattanooga, | 93 |
| My Capture by the Confederates—Good-bye to My Faithful Horse—Introduction to Confederate Diet—Packed in Box Cars During a Journey of About Nine Hundred Miles—Fearful Suffering, | 119 |
| Entrance into Belle Island Prison Pen—Discouraging Outlook—Libby Prison, and the Smith Prison, | 137 |
| Our Return to Danville—Many Sick with Smallpox—Smallpox Hospital, and Convalescent Camp, | 155 |
| Escape from Prison—Much Suffering—A Number of Narrow Escapes from Recapture and Finally Taken In, | 163 |
| Our Recapture and Return to Prison—Four Days in County Jail Behind the Bars—Journey to Richmond, and Pemberton Building, | 189 |
| My Second Entrance into Belle Island Prison Pen—Intense Suffering from Cold and Hunger—Many Die, | 199 |
| Under the Protection of “Old Glory” Once More—Caught in a Terrific Gale and Nearly Shipwrecked—Land at Annapolis, Md.—Stripped, Scoured, and Dressed in New Uniforms, | 221 |
| My Return to My Company and Regiment, May 25, 1864, | 233 |
| Reminiscences of George W. Westgate, | 245 |
| Letter from Calvin W. Hudson—His Escape, Recapture, and Escape the Second Time, | 249 |
| The Consequences of War, | 255 |
| A Chapter to the Boys and Girls, | 263 |
| Birth of “Old Glory,” | 271 |
| The Consequences of Secession, | 273 |
| A Talk with the Comrades, | 281 |
Then.
Now.
CHAPTER I.
Beginning of the Great Rebellion in the United States of America, April 12, 1861.
The “Star of the West,” a United States boat, was fired upon by the rebel batteries in Charleston harbor on Jan. 9, 1861, which some people claim as the beginning of the War of the Rebellion; but the firing on Fort Sumter was the time when the war was really inaugurated.
Fort Sumter, a United States fort located at the entrance to Charleston harbor, was fired upon by the Confederates, April 12, 1861, and Major Anderson, who was in command of the fort, was obliged to surrender to them.
This caused great excitement throughout the United States. Soon after a call was issued by President Lincoln for 75,000 three months’ troops, which was responded to in a very short time. Patriotism ran high, and it seemed to most of us that the government should be defended at all hazards. The fife and drum were soon heard on the streets of Mendota, Ill., and throughout the loyal States. Quite a number of young men, including myself, from Mendota and vicinity, at once signed our names to the roll of enlistment. I was now 19 years of age, and considered it my duty to help defend the flag.
By the latter part of April a company of about 100 was organized in Mendota, with Capt. Rust as commander. We were drilled here for a few days before leaving for Springfield. We were all rather green in regard to military affairs and it was laughable to see the performance. There was about as much awkwardness shown as there would be in breaking a pair of young oxen. In a few days we started for Springfield, Ill. On the day of our departure, which was April 19, 1861, the excitement in Mendota was beyond description. It was probably as intense as when McClellan’s army left Washington for the capture of Richmond. People came flocking into town from all the surrounding country and villages, with flags flying, to see the soldiers start off for the war. The streets were crowded with people who came to bid us the last good-bye. Flags were unfurled and speeches made in honor of our departure.
About 11 o’clock all who had enlisted were formed in two ranks in front of the Illinois Central freight house, facing toward it, when a Miss Davis, who stood upon a raised platform at the northwest corner of the building, delivered an appropriate address, presenting us with an elegant flag in behalf of the citizens of Mendota. This was responded to in a happy manner in behalf of the company by L. B. Crooker, a chubby farmer boy about 20 years of age, who had drifted to Mendota for the purpose of studying law, and who had also enlisted.
He afterwards served his country with honor during the greater part of the war, receiving several severe wounds while serving as a commissioned officer. At the expiration of his term of service he returned home and studied law, which profession he followed for a number of years, serving also in various offices.
Presentation of the Flag at the Freight House.
About 12 o’clock we marched to the depot, and an immense crowd of people gathered around us, bade us good-bye, and we boarded the train and were soon on our way to Springfield, where we arrived the following morning and met a number of companies from different parts of the State. A few days after our arrival we were organized into a regiment, which required ten companies. The Mendota company was made Co. B, and the regiment the 12th Illinois Infantry, with Col. McArthur in command, who was subsequently commissioned Major General.
The Mendota company contained more than the required number of men. Among the surplus bone and sinew who found no place in the home company were L. B. Crooker, James W. Larabee, William Eckert, George C. Loomis, S. P. Whitmore and myself, who all determined to stick together and stay in service. We immediately began looking about for an opening large enough to hold these six husky farmer boys, and it was at last accomplished by entering Co. H of the same regiment. This was from Tiskilwa, and was commanded by Capt. Swain, who subsequently lost his life at Shiloh. We remained together in the same mess until discharged at the end of three months.
It was now imagined that we were going south to crush the Rebellion at once, but, alas, we failed to realize what was before us. Little did we think that it would require four long years to end the great Rebellion. We remained here several weeks, passing the time in drilling and running about town. On May 25 we were transferred to Caseyville, Ill., about ten miles east of St. Louis, where we remained a month or more. While here we received a good many instructions in military tactics, and soon considered ourselves equal to Napoleon or any other great general.
The Kicking Musket.
The guns we received were of the old kicking variety, and could kick equal to a mule. I can well remember having a very lame shoulder from the effects of discharging one of these firearms. It reminded me of a story I heard when I was a boy, about an Irish soldier in an Illinois regiment during the Mexican War. One day during a small engagement the soldier fired at the enemy with one of those kicking guns, which knocked him over backward flat on the ground. His captain, thinking that he was shot, said, “Mike, are you wounded?” He replied, “Captain, it seems as though I had the wrong end against my shoulder.”
The latter part of June the 12th was transferred to Cairo, Ill. We marched across the country from Caseyville to East St. Louis, then got on board a steamer and went down the Mississippi, arriving at our destination on the following day. The only excitement occurring on the way down the river was caused by a man on the Missouri shore waving a rebel flag at us while passing. We went into camp at Cairo on the river bottom behind the levee, our camp being about ten or fifteen feet below high water mark in the river. The levee was constructed for the purpose of keeping high water in the river from overflowing the city. This camp proved to be worse than any experienced during all our subsequent three years’ service. While here we received a visit from Gen. McClellan, who addressed us.
We remained here during the balance of the three months’ term, and nearly all of us were sick, caused by the malaria of the river bottoms and other causes. After the expiration of the three months’ term of service I enlisted for three years, in Co. C, 7th Illinois Cavalry. L. B. Crooker, James W. Larabee, and S. P. Whitmore enlisted in Co. I, 55th Illinois Infantry, William Eckert remained at home, and George C. Loomis remained in Co. H of the 12th, became a sergeant, and was twice wounded, losing his right arm at Altona. L. B. Crooker received promotion as a solace for four wounds, and Larabee was twice wounded, receiving the grade of sergeant, and brought home a glorious decoration in the form of a Congressional medal for gallantry, a proper reward for his splendid soldiership.
CHAPTER II.
Beginning of Three Years’ Service.—Camp Butler and Bird’s Point.
The three months’ service ended in August, 1861, and I enlisted for three years in Sept., 1861. Was discharged Oct. 15, 1864, serving in all three years and about four months. The 7th was organized at Camp Butler, near Springfield, Ill., in the fall of 1861, where it was partly drilled. Prescott Bartlett, of Sublette, Ill., was chosen captain of Co. C, John H. Shaw of Lee Center, Ill., first lieutenant, and B. F. Berkley, of Sublette, Ill., second lieutenant. S. H. Richardson was orderly sergeant, and James Henderson commissary sergeant. The names of other sergeants were R. D. McCord and David S. Porter, and the corporals I have forgotten. In November the regiment was transferred to Bird’s Point, Mo., where it went into winter quarters and remained until about March 1, 1862.
“Home sweet home.”—A Scene in Winter Quarters.
The picture represents a camp in the idle days between the great campaigns. The army has settled down to weeks of forced inaction, and the men make themselves as comfortable as the means at hand will allow. They have shown wonderful thrift and industry in housing themselves. The tent in the foreground shows this. Its builders have made a pen of logs neatly chinked with chunks and clay to keep out the wind. They have built a fireplace of clay and used an old plow on top of the chimney to assist the draft. The roof is made of pieces of shelter tents and ponchos and at the entrance has been laid a pavement of pork-barrel staves to keep mud from being carried into the sleeping apartment. The other tents in the distance show similar devices. The whole is as accurate a picture of a winter camp as the camera could make.
The veteran in the foreground is a man whose love of music is so strong as to be irrepressible. He has constructed a fiddle out of a cigar box and such other material as he could lay his hands on. It shows as much ingenuity as his tent. Probably the tail of the Colonel’s horse has suffered to furnish hair for the bow. The music made is far from that which could be drawn from a high-priced instrument, but he and his boy listener enjoy it a hundredfold more than the most cultivated listener ever did high-priced strains. And he plays the tune that always went most directly to the soldier’s heart, “Home, Sweet Home.”
While at Bird’s Point the 7th performed the ordinary camp and picket duties, occasionally going out on a scouting expedition, making a visit to the vicinity of the enemy. Every morning about daybreak four men from the cavalry were sent out on the road leading from the camp outside of the picket line for the purpose of preventing a surprise by the enemy. One morning, some time after they had gone out as usual, the four horses returned to camp riderless and with blood-stained saddles. A force of the boys was immediately sent out to investigate. After they had passed some distance beyond the picket lines, the bodies of the four men were found lying in the road dead, and almost riddled with buckshot, supposed to have been fired from shotguns. It was evidently the work of bushwhackers, as there was a large log lying within a few feet of the road and parallel with it, and behind this in the soft ground were seen tracks made by a number of men, and the conclusion was reached that these bushwhackers had concealed themselves behind the log and awaited the approach of the four men until they were very near. They then fired upon them, probably killing them instantly.
Gen. Oglesby was in command of the camps on Bird’s Point, during the winter of 1861-1862. I remember him well, as I was an orderly at his headquarters a number of times while on the Point. Gen. Oglesby appeared to me as being an officer who fairly well understood his business, and attended to it. In some respects he appeared like Gen. Grant, modest, kind, and thoroughly loyal to his country. Gen. Oglesby was not of the aristocratic class, but appeared neatly dressed, and was an officer who used good common sense in commanding his troops.
Soon after our arrival here we began the construction of barracks for winter quarters, which were built of logs in log house fashion. Co. C’s building was a long, one-story structure, with bunks for beds, which contained straw and made very comfortable sleeping places.
About Christmas time nearly all were supplied with good things from home. I can never forget the luxuries we received. They were just delicious. I received a box containing a roast turkey, a number of pies, cakes, and other things too numerous to mention. We had just moved into our new barracks, and stored away our delicacies for safe keeping until wanted. Late one afternoon, when nearly all of us had gone to water our horses, one who remained in camp lit a candle and placed it under the bunk to aid him in searching for something he had lost. The lighted candle immediately set fire to the straw in the bunk and in a few minutes the whole building was in a blaze. When we returned our good things had nearly all been destroyed by the fire. Scarcely anything was saved, and thus our anticipations of grand feasts and dinners were dashed away. We were obliged to be content with hardtack, bean soup, and bacon.
The event of the day was falling in for soup, prepared by the cook on detail for the day, in his open-air studio. It was an article that would not pass muster at a fashionable restaurant, but it was hot, there was usually plenty of it, the beans were abundant and as good as Michigan or New England soil could produce, the pork was the finest product of the Illinois pork raisers, and if the cook had been mindful of his duty, had cooked the soup long enough, and stirred it diligently to prevent its burning, it was very appetizing, went right to the spot, and built fine locomotive apparatus for the future marching and battling. If on the other hand he had been careless and lazy, there was likely to be a summary court-martial, and he was lucky if he escaped with nothing worse than being tossed in a blanket. When one looks on the steaming pot, the words of the old refrain rise at once to mind.
“Beans for breakfast,
Beans for dinner,
Beans for supper,
Beans, beans, beans.”
“Fall in for soup.”—A Scene in a Winter Camp.
Our blankets and shelter being also gone, we were poorly prepared for winter. But ere long we were furnished with tents and new blankets, and were comfortable again.
George Westgate, George McKeen, William Orris and myself occupied a tent together. It was a small one, and after lying down to sleep we occupied all the floor space except about two feet of its length at our feet. This was occupied by a small sheet iron stove, cooking utensils, and a water pail. One evening after retiring Westgate began tickling my face with a straw. He thought it a good time to have a little fun at my expense, as I had been out on picket duty the night previous and was very tired and sleepy. Having fallen asleep Westgate began teasing, which of course awakened me. I insisted that he should stop bothering me which he did until after I fell asleep again, and then resumed his work of tormenting me. Finally I told him that I would put him out of the tent if he did not stop, and becoming impatient I jumped up and the scuffle commenced. After a few tumbles about the tent, Westgate struck one foot among the cooking utensils and finally stepped into the water bucket, which was full of water, causing it to splash about the tent and into the faces of Orris and McKeen, which roused their tempers and they yelled, “Eby, put him out!” At this juncture of the performance Westgate was willing to capitulate. He was in trouble, his foot being forced into the bucket in such a position that it was a difficult matter to extricate it. I had failed to put him out of the tent, but his unfortunate position put an end to the scuffle. Our attention was now turned to helping him out of his difficulty. The feet being of the largest kind used for plowing corn in Illinois, and the utensil being only the regular size, pretty near a surgical operation was necessary. The following morning, the boys on hearing of our affair of the previous night, declared that they did not believe impossibilities, as Westgate could never have crammed a foot the size of his into a common water bucket.
A few days later quite a number of troops composed of cavalry were sent out on a scouting expedition, down the Mississippi on the Missouri side to a small town named Belmont (the scene of Gen. Grant’s first battle), where a Confederate battery was supposed to be located. This was about twenty miles from our camp, and we made the journey mostly during the night. We found nothing of importance on our trip except when we struck the river, near Belmont, where we discovered a Confederate gunboat in very close proximity, but the land battery was a hoax. It being in the nighttime, we were unable to see the boat distinctly, but could see enough of it to satisfy us that it was a dangerous concern. We kept quiet, and left that neighborhood as soon as possible, going in the direction of camp. On the way we came in contact with an enemy in the form of a small flock of geese not far from a farmhouse. One of the men who was in advance of us a short distance caught sight of them first. They hissed at him, and he called out: “Boys, I have found a squad of rebels, and they hissed at me. They should be made prisoners and taken along to camp.” We immediately went to our comrade’s assistance and the capture was soon made. Of course, according to the rules of war, we were obliged to put them under guard and take them to camp. The reader may guess what became of the geese. This being the day before Christmas, these captures were appropriate, and after the manner of Yankee soldiers were duly assimilated.
On the way to camp, the night being intensely dark, the proper trail was missed and we became entangled in dense thickets. Hats were lost, clothes were torn, faces were scratched and disfigured. The reader can imagine the amount of patience required of us to keep a smiling face on this occasion. As we rode through the thickets we endeavored to keep in line or march in military order, that is by twos, and follow the file leaders. The man who did not receive a severe whack in his face, by a branch of a tree bent forward by his file leader until it received a very high tension, then came back with tremendous force against him, perhaps almost dismounting him, was considered out of place. Some of the language fired off into the night air would not be considered appropriate at a Sunday-school picnic. The man who emerged from this affair with a smiling countenance was looked upon as being a saint. We arrived in camp at Bird’s Point about noon the following day, looking like a lot of Indian warriors with their war paint on their faces, being scratched and battered by riding through the thickets.
In January, 1862, an army was organized here for the purpose of making a reconnaissance into western Kentucky. It was in command of Gen. U. S. Grant, and Co. C, 7th Illinois Cavalry, was detailed as his escort on this expedition. The troops consisted of quite a large force of infantry and artillery from Bird’s Point and other places. We were out six or eight days, but did not encounter the enemy in large force. The weather a part of the time was very unfavorable, and we rode for two days while the rain was pouring down. I was on outpost picket during the night following the first rainy day. The rain continued nearly all night, and the sergeant in command of the relief failed to find my post on account of the dense darkness. Therefore I was not relieved until morning, having stood in the rain with my horse all night, keeping a good lookout for the enemy. When arriving in camp, after daylight, the rain was still falling in torrents. I was thoroughly wet, sleepy and tired, and the boys accused me of being cross, which I dared not deny. Having just lain down to take a little nap when the bugle sounded for boots and saddles, I jumped up, feeling as the boys had accused me. All this time the rain continued. The order soon came to move forward. We mounted and started on the way back toward Bird’s Point, riding nearly all day in a pouring rain.
Late in the afternoon the wind commenced blowing cold from the northwest, and it began to freeze and snow a little. Just before dark we were given orders to halt and go into camp in the woods, by the roadside, which was obeyed. We cared for our horses as best we could and proceeded to build fires. Co. C started a fire under a large log, which soon blazed up sufficiently for us to warm ourselves. We had some hardtack and bacon, which we proceeded to devour. After supper I fixed up a sort of a bed near the log, by placing considerable rubbish on the ground, in order to keep out of the mud, and covering this with brush and leaves. I then pulled off my fine cavalry boots and set them up near the fire, in order that they might dry out, and then retired. When I arose in the morning and took hold of my boots I found them brittle in some parts, having been scorched by the fire during the night. When putting them on they broke, so that they were ruined.
After breakfast we again moved on toward Bird’s Point. During the day, when riding along the road, two of our soldiers belonging to an infantry regiment were discovered a few rods away who had just killed and dressed a hog, and had it hung up to a tree. (As I previously stated our Co. C was escort for Gen. Grant on this expedition.) Of course the General also discovered the men and dressed hog, and immediately gave the command to halt, which was promptly obeyed. The General rode out of ranks and called to the men who had the hog. They walked up near him and he proceeded to lecture them, as I well remember, being within twenty-five or thirty feet and overhearing the whole conversation. The first question the General asked was, “Where did you procure that hog?” The answer was, “Foraged it.” The General then spoke as follows: “Men, do you not know that kind of work is strictly against orders?” He talked to them as a father would to his sons. He then said, “Sergeant, take charge of these men under guard, and report them to headquarters.” The order was then given, “Forward,” and we rode toward Bird’s Point. I could not help thinking about that delicious looking fresh pork, but it was a consolation to know that the boys who came after us would not let it go to waste. I never learned what became of the two soldiers nor the hog. I was too bashful to tell the General about my craving appetite for some of it.
This was our first experience under the immediate command of the great General Grant, and belonging to the escort I was in close contact with him a number of days, and had an opportunity of studying his character. Of course he was then comparatively obscure, but had reputation enough in this part of the army to arouse curiosity. The impressions of an immature youth, if not valuable, may be characteristic of the time and place.
Gen. Grant had not the imposing stature that we in our then romantic notions regarded as heroic. He was quiet, kindly and considerate under all circumstances. He indulged in no parade and wore no fine feathers, as the picture books had caused us to expect. His alertness to see, and his fairness to correct all breaches of discipline, were displayed in the incident above alluded to, while his gentle but firm way of applying the remedy was impressive.
These characteristics are now a matter of history, but were then only known to those in his immediate presence. While Gen. Grant, in this our first experience in his presence, at first disappointed us in lack of fuss and feathers, he impressed us with confidence that he knew his business and attended to it, and we began to think that the high stepping generals so implanted in our youthful minds were not so much needed as practical ones of another mold.
I think we arrived in camp at Bird’s Point the following day, remaining there during about all the month of February, doing the ordinary camp, picket and scouting duties.
CHAPTER III.
New Madrid, Point Pleasant and Island No. 10.
About March 1 the movement began down the Mississippi on the Missouri side of the river to New Madrid, and later to Point Pleasant, where the 7th went into camp, remaining there about three or four weeks, doing ordinary camp and picket duties. The camp was located in the woods, which contained some very large trees. One night a terrible tornado passed through our camp, uprooting trees and blowing down nearly all the tents. The trees crashed down among the men and horses, killing two men and a number of horses belonging to our regiment. Each company had one row of tents, and when the storm came on nearly all were asleep. A large tree nearly four feet in diameter came down with a crash, parallel and within a few feet of our row of tents, but leaving Co. C uninjured. We congratulated ourselves on our narrow escape. When our tent went down we jumped up and tried to get out from under it as quickly as possible. I scrambled out through a stovepipe hole in the upper part of the tent. I had some difficulty in passing through this small opening and the boys were obliged to come to my assistance. They extricated me, and then began laughing at me, about jumping through the chimney.
The camp was located a short distance back from the river out of reach of the Confederate batteries on the opposite side. They occupied several small forts on the east side of the river, and whenever we attempted to get water from it, or water our horses, they would open fire on us with their siege guns. On one of these occasions I saw an oak tree about fifteen inches in diameter which was cut nearly off by a shot from the large gun. Thereupon we abandoned the river, and procured water from a frog pond near the camp. We did not hesitate to use water from the pond because it was nicely covered over with a green scum.
Gen. Pope was in command of the land forces in this vicinity, and by this time had concentrated quite an army. One night during the stay at this place, one of the United States ironclads named Carondelet ran the gauntlet past Island No. 10 and came down the river to Point Pleasant without sustaining injury by the Confederate fire. The following day it captured the small forts located on the east bank of the river. I witnessed the whole affair, which did not continue a very long time. A few days after this the Confederate forces on Island No. 10 and vicinity surrendered to Gen. Pope.
General Pope, as I saw him, appeared to me like another one of those sound minded, honest, patriotic and well informed soldiers. He loved his country and his flag, and as he appeared to me and what I learned about him caused me to believe that he understood his business and attended to it. Gen. Pope, according to what I learned about him, possessed the right conception of the American volunteer soldier. He once said, “It is true and must in the nature of things always be true, that in a free country and among a free people the real heroes of every war are found in the ranks: men who have taken up arms with the sole purpose to serve their country, and with intelligent knowledge of the object for which they dare the perils of battle and disease.”
I had nearly forgotten to tell how well we were entertained a portion of the time while camping in the vicinity of Island No. 10.
Bombardment of Island No. 10.
Old Abe.
There were in the river six large United States mortars and a number of ironclad gunboats. The mortars were of very large caliber, capable of throwing a shell as large as an ordinary water bucket, in diameter I think twelve inches or more. The mortars were mounted on small flatboats, one on each boat. During a period of about three weeks, every half hour during night time as well as day, one of those large shells from a mortar was sent over to Island No. 10, and exploded with terrific force. Whenever one of those mortars was discharged it would fairly shake the earth about us. During a few nights in the beginning of the siege the noise made by those guns disturbed my sleep, but I soon became accustomed to it. The gunboats also annoyed the Confederates on the island, by throwing solid shot at them. While we were in the vicinity of Island No. 10 and New Madrid, we occasionally met the 8th Wisconsin Regiment, which carried by the side of its regimental flag the famous war eagle (Old Abe), whose photograph appears above. I well remember seeing this proud-appearing bird a number of times, while it was being carried, sitting upon its perch, beside Old Glory. It appeared to me about as large as a fair-sized turkey, and it served through a three years’ campaign, returning to its native State in safety, after passing through many battles. When Gen. Pope’s command had finished its work in the vicinity of Island No. 10 it went by steamers to Hamburg Landing, Tenn., near the battlefield of Shiloh.
Map of Island No. 10, and Vicinity.
CHAPTER IV.
Up the River to Hamburg Landing and Thence by Land to Corinth and Jacinto, Miss., Tuscumbia and Cortland, Ala.
Gen. Pope’s army, of which we (the 7th) were a part, on April 18 embarked on steamers and moved down the river toward Memphis, Tenn., but after going in that direction some distance our fleet of steamers faced about and steamed up the Mississippi River to Cairo. From thence up the Ohio to the mouth of the Tennessee and up the Tennessee to Hamburg Landing, Tenn., where we landed April 22. We were sent there for the purpose of assisting the armies of Buell and Grant (then under Gen. Halleck) who had fought the battle of Shiloh and were now preparing to follow the Confederate army, which was concentrating at Corinth, Miss.
While here considerable skirmishing was done. One day during the latter part of April, 1862, Co. C was ordered out, with Capt. Bartlett in command, to make a reconnaissance in the direction of Corinth. We moved out through a timbered country interspersed with considerable underbrush. When out a number of miles from the river, in looking across a small field to the opposite side, some horsemen were discovered through the open spaces in the brush, which on close investigation proved to be a line of Confederate cavalry. They had seemingly discovered us and were in line of battle and ready. Some of the boys did not wait for orders, but left the ranks and started toward the enemy, when the captain called out, “Keep in line,” “Get back in line,” but before they would get back some others would start out. The object of the Captain was to get all in line and then make a charge. While we were fooling in this manner the Confederates gave us a volley, mortally wounding one of our number named Dick Springer, of Sublette, Ill., who died a few days later. Just then the Confederates started to retreat and we charged on them as fast as horses could carry us. The excitement was intense, for it was a race between us and the enemy with the advantage on our side. We occasionally gave them a shot when opportunity afforded. In the pursuit several of the enemy were killed, a number wounded and a few taken prisoners. Some of their horses and saddles were also captured, and those of the enemy who remained ahead of us were chased into a swamp and there the pursuit was given up, it not being prudent to venture any farther. When the swamp was reached I looked about and counted and to my surprise there were only seven of Co. C together at the end of the chase. The remainder were strung out behind for a distance of nearly a half mile. A laughable and yet dangerous incident happened to one of our men in this chase. A large oak tree had fallen to the ground, and one of its branches projected out over the road unobserved by the rider who was going at full speed and came in contact with it. The horse ran under the branch, which caught the saddle, pulling it from the horse which passed on; the saddle stopped and the rider tumbled over the limb upon the ground. At the time of this reconnaissance a young attorney from Mendota, named William E. Beck, was visiting the company. He insisted on going out with us and the Captain furnished him a horse and some firearms. Although he was not an enlisted man he did as good service as any of us. This man became a leading lawyer and died a member of the Supreme Court of Colorado. We came out of this skirmish with the loss of one man, while the enemy’s loss was five or six killed and wounded and quite a number of prisoners.
Soon after this a part of the regiment went out on another skirmish, in which I did not participate on account of being on other duty. This proved to be quite an affair, as there were some infantry troops engaged and the enemy used artillery. Sergeant Porter (later captain) of our company had his horse killed under him by a cannon shot, but he was uninjured. The country between Hamburg Landing and Corinth was mostly timbered, having a great deal of underbrush. I noticed some of this brushy land had been farmed at some time in years past.
The whole army now slowly moved southwest toward Corinth, skirmishing along the way. Our regiment occupied a part of the line of battle, remaining in this position four days and nights, standing by our horses’ heads except while trying to sleep, or feed and water our horses. At night we endeavored to get some sleep and rest in the following manner: Alternately one man would hold two horses by the bridles while the other attempted to get some sleep by lying down in front of his horse, but this generally failed on account of occasional firing in close proximity, which would cause some of the horses to jump and thereby disturb us. When we were relieved at the end of the four days we were “played out,” as the illustration shows.
Played Out.
When the army arrived in front of Corinth, and was preparing to capture the place, we were surprised on the morning of May 29 to find that it had been vacated during the night, the Confederates having gone southward. Our regiment went to Booneville, where it remained several weeks. Then it was sent to Jacinto, Miss., a small town where we camped about a month, doing the ordinary military duties. While there everything seemed to be quiet, with no enemies to disturb us except millions of woodticks and swifts. This tick is a small gray-colored insect. They stuck on our horses in such a manner that we were obliged to scrape them off, or they would probably have tormented them nearly to death. The swift is a small four-footed animal formed like a lizard and the color of a frog. At night when we retired they would hop about us by the hundred. They are a noisy creature. One night after we had about all fallen asleep a swift jumped into one of our boy’s open shirt bosom, and scrambled about over his bare body, and he thinking it was a snake jumped up, yelling like a demon, arousing nearly the whole camp.
On July 20, 1862, the 7th broke camp and moved eastward into northern Alabama, to a place by the name of Tuscumbia, where we found one of the largest springs of water that I ever saw. It poured forth from a cavity in the rocks with such volume that as it flowed down over a bed of gravel a stream was formed almost knee deep to the horses, and twenty-five or thirty feet wide. The water was very clear, and so cold that the horses sometimes refused to drink it. We camped there a few days, and then part of the regiment moved on eastward to Cortland, Ala., where we found a most beautiful camping place, on the banks of a fine stream, along which were many springs of good water. The country in the immediate vicinity was quite fertile, and foraging was good, as not many of the enemy had passed through here previous to this. Peaches and small fruits were quite plentiful. One day some of the boys brought in a nice lot of fine peaches. The sight of these put me in the notion of making some peach pies. The commissary had previously issued some flour. My shortening for the pie-crust I procured by frying some bacon. (The bacon-flavored shortening was substituted for nutmegs and other flavorings.) I proceeded to mix the material for the crust which was a new experience for me. After the dough was made I looked about for a rolling pin, with which to prepare the crusts. I found one of those long champagne bottles, which answered the purpose very well. I placed the lower crust on one of our tin plates, and on this the prepared peaches, with plenty of sugar, and then put the covering on and placed it in a cast iron bake-oven. We built a fire around it, and occasionally took the lid off to inspect the process. The baking was soon completed, the pie taken out, and pronounced well done. After eating it we called it good, and I was congratulated on my success. Of course, you know, a soldier in our position would call anything good that could be eaten. But some of the boys declared that I had put the shortening in lengthwise. I thought if I was spared to get home I would try and get a position in a first-class hotel as baker.
Nothing of an exciting nature occurred during our stay at Cortland, except that we received a report one morning that the Confederates in small force were encamped in a village a few miles away. A squadron of our cavalry, in command of Capt. Bartlett, was immediately sent out in the direction of the village, to take the Johnnies in out of the wet, as we supposed. We moved along cautiously until arriving in the vicinity of the village, when we halted and formed to make a charge into the town. When all was ready the Captain gave the command “Forward, charge,” and away we flew into and through the town with drawn sabres, and found nothing to run against. Not a solitary “Johnny” was to be seen. It was like kicking against nothing. We were somewhat disappointed, but as I thought the matter over I concluded to be willing to be thus deluded.
CHAPTER V.
From Northern Alabama to Nashville, Tenn., and Its Occupation by the Federals.
Early on the morning of Aug. 28, 1862, the bugle sounded for boots and saddles. About fifty or sixty of Co. C, including myself, mounted and prepared to move, thinking that we were going on a scouting expedition some distance from camp. Therefore our blankets and small trinkets were left, with the supposition that we would return in the evening. We moved out, and after riding quite a distance, perhaps eight or ten miles, we met Gen. Palmer and staff, with a division of infantry and artillery. He was on his way north, to Nashville, Tenn., a distance of over one hundred and fifty miles. Co. C was employed as escort for the General on the journey, and we never returned to Cortland, losing our blankets and other things.
We were on the way a number of days, occasionally seeing a few of the enemy in our front and having a skirmish with them. During the fore part of the journey a scene was witnessed which I considered very aggravating. A short distance north of Pulaski, Tenn., we passed a cotton mill by the roadside. It was a two-story frame building, with quite a number of windows on the side next the road, and from each of these windows there peered many heads of women. As we were passing they hissed at us, and called out, “Run you cowards.” “They will catch you before you get to Nashville,” and many other insulting phrases. Gen. Palmer halted in front of the factory, and after listening to them a few minutes he said: “Ladies, do you know that these soldiers carry matches in their pockets? This building would burn nicely.” They took the hint and all was quiet.
One day when three of us were on advance guard we occasionally started forward on the gallop, and left quite a distance between us and the main force. When in the vicinity of Columbia, Tenn., my horse had gained some distance on the other two, and the road winding through the woods, I was unable to see whether the others were in supporting distance. I continued riding until the business street of Columbia was reached, when I halted and looked back, but could see neither of the boys. I waited, momentarily expecting their arrival. At a little distance I saw a small group of men in citizens’ dress. I rode up near them and ordered them to disperse, which they did. Why this was done I hardly know, unless because I thought a bold front would intimidate them, and cause them to believe that reinforcements were very near at hand. I felt somewhat uneasy, as previous to this we had found Confederate soldiers dressed in citizens’ clothes, and therefore had good reason to suspect some of the group as such.
I remained here on my horse in suspense, with carbine in hand, a minute or more before the arrival of my two comrades. The minutes seemed long on account of being in doubt. We waited here until the main column arrived, then passed on through the town, skirmishing with a few of the enemy during several days as we advanced, arriving at Nashville the 12th of September. Gen. Palmer was in command of the troops composing his division, and Gen. Negley, being senior, was in command of the district. Communication with the North and other parts of our army was entirely cut off, and we were unable to receive mail or supplies of any kind. The main part of the Union army in this vicinity had gone into Kentucky in pursuit of Bragg. The commissary stores were scant, and we were obliged to go out foraging sometimes in order to get enough to eat. While here we experienced a number of exciting incidents by way of skirmishing and small engagements with the enemy, who were continually lurking about our picket lines. I was now detailed as orderly at Gen. Palmer’s headquarters, in which position I served until Sept. 20, 1863, when I was made a prisoner of war at the battle of Chickamauga.
After being at Nashville some time Gen. Negley was informed that a force of Confederates, consisting mostly of infantry, to the number of several thousand, were encamped at Lavergne, Tenn., about thirteen miles from Nashville. The generals immediately laid plans for the capture of this camp. One night they sent out a brigade of infantry, which marched by a circuitous route to the rear of the Confederate camp, arriving there a little before daylight, but did not disturb the enemy until we attacked them in front. Our forces who made that attack were composed of Gen. Palmer and staff, Co. C, and a small force of infantry and cavalry; also several pieces of artillery.
At first we merely attacked their pickets, which drew the enemy’s attention toward us. At the same time the infantry assaulted them in the rear, causing their surrender to us, with the exception of their cavalrymen, who escaped. The Confederates had one piece of artillery, a four-pounder, which was disabled after firing a number of shots. This fell into our hands along with their entire camp equipage, including a large quantity of new uniforms which they had just received. We also captured a brigadier-general. During this engagement I witnessed something that I had never seen or heard of before. As I was looking directly at the Confederate four-pound cannon, which was perhaps eighty or one hundred rods from us, it was discharged and the instant that I saw the smoke issue from the mouth of the gun a small black speck was seen coming toward me and in a second or two it crashed into a rail fence close by. After it had struck the fence I was satisfied that the black speck I had seen was the ball from the cannon. Soon after this I heard a rattling noise to the left. I turned and looked in that direction and saw brick rolling down over the roof of a residence which was in close proximity. Evidently a ball from the Confederate gun came in contact with the chimney, causing a confusion about the house. While looking that way a man came out of the house and looked up at the chimney, apparently surprised at the condition of things. I concluded that the people in the house were in a perilous condition.
While this small engagement was in progress Gen. Palmer was busily engaged with his telescope, viewing the battlefield and directing the movements of troops. He stood upon a small strawstack in good view of the enemy, giving directions as composedly as if talking to pupils in a schoolroom. After the firing ceased we rode into the Confederate camp and found that we had captured many wagon-loads of property, which was loaded and hauled with us to Nashville.
The reader can comprehend to some extent (by the former descriptions of battle scenes) the hardships and desolation that people are compelled to undergo in countries where armies pass through in time of war. I often felt grieved for people in the South when their stock, grain and fences were appropriated for the use of the army. Of course a commander will not allow his soldiers to starve. If his trains cannot keep up with the troops he will order the commissary to gather provisions from the country through which they are passing (of course citizens were not allowed to starve), and when an army is on the march and goes into camp in the evening, the soldiers have not time to chop down trees for fuel, but take fences, and thereby the country is more or less desolated, generally more. I can remember when orders were given to the soldiers allowing them to take only the top rail off a fence for fuel, but each rail in turn became a top rail and in a few minutes the whole fence would disappear.
An exciting chase and skirmish.—One afternoon Lieut. Shaw of Co. C was ordered to take a squad of Co. C, some ten or twelve in number, and go outside the picket lines to see what he could discover in regard to the location of the enemy. After riding some distance across the country, Charles Evitts, William Orris and myself, who were advance guard, arrived near the top of a hill, and looking over its brow discovered three Confederates seemingly on outpost picket duty. We thought they were performing their duty in a very careless manner as they were dismounted. We fired, and of course the instant they heard the report of our guns they mounted their horses and rode away as fast as they could, one of them leaving his gun leaning against the fence. We immediately started to follow them at full speed. As we passed the picket station I slowed up and grabbed the gun which the Confederates had left and destroyed it (by throwing it down upon the stone road, which broke the stock off), so that it was of no further use to the enemy, and it would have been of no use to Uncle Sam. Then I followed on at a fast gait, overtaking the other two boys.
During the chase one of the three Confederates fell from his horse and we made him a prisoner; he having been shot through the arm by our first fire. We pushed on after the other two Johnnies, who gave the alarm to their reserve force which numbered probably fifty or sixty, who were just cooking their suppers beside the road in a ravine. As soon as the alarm was given of our approach they all mounted their horses and rode up the opposite hill in confusion, leaving their suppers cooking. Some of them even left their saddles which they had removed from their horses. The fun this time was on our side. It was laughable to see the Confederates hustling up the hill in such confusion with us, perhaps less than one-fifth of their number, in pursuit. The roads being very dusty at this time, and no wind blowing, the trail of dust we left behind us caused them to believe that there was a large force in pursuit, thus causing their hasty flight.
In this little skirmish we captured one prisoner, a fine double-barreled shotgun, a horse, some saddles and numerous other small articles, and returned to camp after dark in the evening.
Attacking the Confederates behind a stone wall.—Some days later while at Nashville we went out on another reconnoitering expedition into the enemy’s country, with a small force consisting of Co. C, Capt. Bartlett in command, two pieces of artillery and several companies of infantry, with Gen. Palmer in command of the whole. After marching some distance from camp we discovered a small force of the enemy, which gradually fell back before our advance until they reached a farmhouse, where a thick stone wall was found, used as a fence between the house and barn. The Confederates thought the wall a good stronghold, and took a position behind it, not being aware that we had artillery with us, and therefore considering themselves safe behind the wall. They opened fire on us, but we did not like to attack them with our small arms while in their fortified position. Therefore the general ordered the artillerymen to open fire on them. The first or second shot passed through the wall, and another one through the barn, which caused quite a commotion among them. The house also received a number of shots from the rifles. They immediately took to flight and we went down to inspect the barn and wall. I found one large hardwood timber in the barn nearly cut in two by a shot from our artillery. I do not remember of any one in our command being seriously injured during this engagement. We returned to camp, performing our military duties as usual. We experienced a number of skirmishes similar to the above during our stay at Nashville.
Nov. 7, 1862, brought good news to us. The Federal army from Kentucky arrived at Nashville, which opened communication once more with the North and our homes. We had not received any mail for about three months and were very glad indeed to receive letters from home, some of which had been on the way two or three months. The army was now being thoroughly reorganized, and named Army of the Cumberland, with Gen. Rosecrans in command; and preparations were made for the advance on Murfreesboro. We remained here at Nashville until Dec. 26, 1862.
CHAPTER VI.
The Advance on Murfreesboro—Battle of Stone River—Occupation of Murfreesboro by the Federals—Cripple Creek and Tullahoma Campaign—Advance on Chattanooga and Chickamauga.
The announcement was made on Christmas night, 1862, to the Army of the Cumberland, to prepare to march the following morning, with three days’ rations in the haversacks and cartridge boxes well filled. The reveille sounded loudly throughout the camps about Nashville early on the morning of the 26th, and all was alive, with thousands of busy soldiers preparing for the advance. The morning dawned drearily, with threatening clouds overhanging the sky, but preparations to move forward went briskly on. After breakfast the order came to strike tents and prepare to move soon. Regiment after regiment filed out on several different roads leading toward Murfreesboro, with fifes and drums playing inspiring music, which cheered the soldiers to a high degree.
But alas! How little did we know how many of our number, now so cheerful, would be laid low within a few days by the enemy’s bullets and that 9,700 of our number would be killed or wounded within eight days on the battlefield of Stone River.
The whole army was soon on the move, and outside of the picket lines. A skirmish line was pushed forward, and did not march many miles before the skirmishers of the enemy were met, who gradually retired. We continued to advance, sometimes meeting quite a force of the enemy, who repeatedly withdrew. This continued until we reached the vicinity of Stone River, Dec. 30, 1862.
During the march of the Army of the Cumberland from Nashville to the vicinity of Murfreesboro, which continued from Dec. 26 to the 30th, rain fell in torrents nearly every day, which caused the roads to become almost impassable. After thousands of horses had passed over the soft and water-covered roads, the mud was fearful, from four to six inches in depth and in some places half knee deep, and of the consistency of cream or very thick paint ready for use. The reader can judge by looking at the illustration whether it was a pleasure for the soldiers to tramp all day on a road in the above-mentioned condition, while the rain was pouring down.
The Army Marching Through Mud and Rain.
The soldiers were loaded as mentioned, following: First a knapsack, containing extra garments, underwear and blanket; also any trinkets that a soldier chose to have; second, a haversack, containing three or four days’ rations; third, a gun, a heavy belt with cartridge box containing 40 rounds, and last but not least, a canteen full of water. The cavalry and artillery fared but little or perhaps no better than the infantry on those muddy roads, as the tramping of the horses caused the mud to splash in such a manner that both horses and riders became literally plastered with it, which gave them a job of cleaning up. It requires grit and a good constitution to march all day on a slushy road with rain pouring down, and then go into camp at night and lie down to sleep on the muddy ground with rain-soaked clothes. It also requires ironclad patriotism, to keep a smiling countenance under these conditions.
The haversack and canteen were as essential to a soldier of the War of the Rebellion from 1861 to 1865 when on a long march as a tender is to a railroad locomotive. The locomotive when running would soon become powerless if the tender did not accompany it to supply fuel and water with which to create power to enable it to travel.
That was also the fact with the soldier. If he did not have the indispensable haversack and canteen well filled, attached to himself when on the march, he could expect that his locomotive power would fail in a short time and he would become unable to march. The haversack generally contained the following articles when filled for the march: First, a quantity of the genuine, indispensable, hard-as-a-rock-Uncle-Sam-hardtack, sometimes animated hardtack; a slice of bacon, sometimes animated; a small package of browned coffee, a small quantity of sugar tied up in paper and tucked away in a corner, and last but not least, a pinch of salt. But why was salt needed? The bacon was salty, and the hardtack did not need salt, and it would not have improved the coffee. The salt appears to be a mystery, but perhaps it was not a mystery to the soldier. Some people may not understand the meaning of the words, “animated hardtack.” Therefore we will explain. Animated hardtack was that which was inhabited by the larvæ of flies, a footless insect or grub, but plainly speaking, a maggot. The soldiers of the war from 1861 to 1865 were occasionally treated to a few rations of animated hardtack and animated bacon also, perhaps by mistake. In such cases the soldiers were liable to find a portion of their rations escaping.
The canteen generally contained water, but there were occasions when it did not contain water; perhaps milk, if a cow could be found, and the finder chanced to be an expert milker, capable of milking into the small mouth of a canteen. The haversack was not a thing of beauty, nor was it ornamented, especially after it had been in use during a considerable length of time. It was generally constructed of heavy canvas, and of course after the greasy bacon had been stored in it and carried on those long marches in that broiling Dixie sun, and on dusty roads, it became a slick-appearing object as the canvas became saturated with grease from the bacon and then a coat of dust adhered to it, which, after considerable wear and several alternate coats of grease and dust, made it as polished as a looking-glass. A story was circulated during the war about some remarks that a southern lady made when a number of our regiments were passing. She said, “There are the proudest lot of Yanks that I have seen. Every fellow has a looking-glass hanging to him.” She evidently mistook the glossy haversacks for looking-glasses.
Now after marching all day loaded, as previously described, the soldiers would receive orders to halt and go into camp by the roadside in their order of march. The camping place sometimes was in a muddy cornfield or cottonfield, and other times in the woods. After each regiment and company were assigned to a place to be occupied during the night, arrangements were made for the purpose of procuring fuel and water, and if sticks could be found the proper size the pup tents were erected, after which the boys would proceed with the preparations for getting supper, which were generally not very elaborate, as the cooking utensils during a long march were few, consisting of a tin cup, in which the coffee was boiled, and a small branch of a tree fifteen or eighteen inches in length and pointed at each end. One end was stuck in the ground at an angle of about 45 degrees, and a slice of bacon hung on the other end near enough to the fire to make it broil and also make it palatable. The coffee was next in order. The butt end of a gun was substituted for a coffee mill on these occasions. The coffee was boiled in a tin cup, or a very small coffee pot if the soldier chanced to have one, until it became strong enough to float an iron wedge (as the boys termed it). When supper was ready they would sit on the ground in small groups and gnaw at their hardtack and bacon. If the weather happened to be cool they would sit in a circle around a small campfire and eat and talk until they became sleepy or taps sounded for lights out. Then a sleeping place was prepared. If their camping place was in a cornfield a few cornstalks or other rubbish would be gathered and placed on the ground for a bed, and when about ready to retire they would perhaps be surprised by the orderly who called their names for extra picket duty, perhaps to go on outside picket. They go out to their post of duty and perhaps about the time that they are posted rain begins falling. A long, dreary night is spent by watching for the enemy. Morning dawns and the rain still continues falling. The men are called in off their post of duty. When they arrive in camp the bugle sounds to fall in ready to march. Then another call forward when they begin their march for the day without breakfast or making their toilets. But after marching some distance hunger begins to gnaw, and a few hardtack are found at which they begin to nibble as they march. Hungry, sleepy, and tired, they continue to march all day on the muddy roads, while rain is pouring down, for $13 per month for the purpose of perpetuating our glorious government.
On the morning of Dec. 31 the memorable battle of Stone River, or Murfreesboro, began. At daylight Gen. Bragg, who was in command of the Confederates, made a furious attack upon the right wing of the Federal army, and drove it back, but at a fearful cost. A temporary panic followed immediately on our right wing, mostly among the army wagon teams and runaway horses, and horses from which riders had been shot. All these came rushing back at a furious rate. I witnessed a portion of the above scene and have no desire to see another like it. I well remember seeing a six-mule team with army wagon attached running at full speed over a rail fence, brush, rocks and logs. At the same time I saw wounded soldiers covered with blood, horses perhaps in a similar condition, all with a mad rush making their way toward the rear. The above was only a sample of other such scenes.
After the right was driven back the Confederates concentrated their forces upon our center and the right of the left, which were composed of Palmer’s and several other commands, who repulsed the Confederates with great loss. Our artillery swung into line on the run, and poured forth its deadly missiles into the enemy’s ranks.
Nothing in war is more exciting than to see a battery go into action. It has been drilled incessantly for months, perhaps years, for just such a crisis—for the moment when it can gallop directly into the very hell of the battle and throw all of its terrific power into a few minutes of awful work in deciding the contest. Day in and day out men and horses have been unweariedly drilled for a few moments of intense action at a critical time. Time and fatigue have been disregarded, to train them thoroughly as parts of a great machine of destruction. They have become such integral parts that they go through their duties automatically, as if they were second nature.
Going Into Action.
Nothing deranges the perfect operation of the terrific machine. They will dash into the midst of the fight, where the shells are spreading wild havoc and the deadly rifle balls patter like rain, without a thought of their surroundings, and open their volcano on the enemy without making a blunder or missing a motion. A man is torn to fragments by a shell and another instantly steps into his place; a horse is shot down, he is immediately cut out and another hitched in his place. The guns bellow uninterruptedly, no matter what havoc the enemy’s missiles are creating around them. It is the grandest yet most awful spectacle that war affords.
The Confederates made three or four desperate attempts to break this portion of our line, but failed and were repulsed each time, and remained nearly all the balance of the day under cover. During the day the shattered divisions of the Union army from the right were reorganized and were soon ready for action. The day was now far spent and the firing about at an end. The troops were mostly concealed in the woods or behind knolls, so as to be out of reach of the enemy’s fire. Shortly before the sun disappeared in the west I rode out into a small open space where my curiosity led me. Near by was a long line of infantry lying behind the crest of a knoll flat on the ground. When I was within a couple of rods of them two of the men looked around at me and one of them said, “You better get away from there.” He had hardly spoken the words when several bullets from Confederate sharpshooters, who were concealed in a cedar thicket, whizzed uncomfortably close to my ears, and I took the hint, and in a very short space of time I was out of sight in the woods, where a portion of our troops were posted.
The day’s battle was now ended and everything seemed to be quiet along the lines. Darkness soon settled down over the battlefield and we proceeded to get something to eat. This was New Year’s eve, and the army held watch-night, but not in the same style that we do at home. A good portion of the soldiers slept upon their arms. I distinctly remember that night, the moon shone brightly the fore part of the night and all was quiet in our front. All that could be heard was the rumbling of the ambulance wheels rolling over the battlefield, hauling the wounded to the hospital.
The morning of Jan. 1, 1863, dawned drearily upon us, but before noon it cleared off and the sun shone and Nature smiled lovingly upon the field of the previous day’s carnage. The day passed without a general engagement, but the lines of the army were being reformed and preparations were made for another battle the following day.
The Lull in the Fight.
The illustration is full of the spirit of war. It represents the lull which comes after one attack has been repulsed before another is made. The men behind the rude, hastily-constructed but quite formidable defenses, are having a brief respite. They know that it is only a respite, but are making the most of it. They will get what comfort they can in the meanwhile. It is probable they will be attacked again soon, but while they are ready and willing to meet it they are borrowing no trouble about it. They feel that they can repulse it as certainly and easily as they did the other. If the hour has any comfort in it they are going to enjoy it. The squad of prisoners in the foreground is very eloquent. It shows how the Confederate conscription was forcing into the ranks “all classes and conditions of men.”
The capture of prisoners had become so common a thing that the squad hardly excites a ripple of interest among the men. They hardly look up from their cooking or their game to observe the new captures, who simply go to swell the tens of thousands already in our hands.
Jan. 2 opened with some firing along the line, and late in the afternoon became a general engagement on our left, which resulted in a complete defeat of the Confederates. About the time that this battle of Jan. 2 fairly began, Lieut. John H. Shaw, of Co. C, 7th Illinois Cavalry climbed a tall forest tree for the purpose of locating the enemy and directing the firing of our artillery, which he did with good success. And while he was up in the tree, sitting upon a limb four or five inches in diameter, viewing the enemy with a large telescope, a cannon shot cut the limb off about 7 or 8 feet from where he was sitting. The Lieutenant told me that it was quite a nervous shock to him, and he scrambled down from that tree faster than he went up.
During this engagement Gen. Palmer sent me on an errand, and on the way I was obliged to pass through a line of our artillery posted on the west bluff of Stone River. On my return trip, when riding through the line and within ten or fifteen feet of one of the guns, I saw the axle cut from under it by a shot from the enemy. The beautiful brass gun tumbled to the ground. The battle was raging fiercely, causing havoc all about. Shells were exploding and shrieking through the air. Solid shot was plowing the earth and throwing the ground in showers around us. It seemed as if the whole Southern Confederacy had broken loose upon that spot. Rifle and musket balls were doing their share of execution also. After passing the line of guns I found myself among the artillerymen and horses, where an alarming confusion was found, caused by the fearful execution of the enemy’s fire, which appeared to be concentrated right on that place. When near one of the artillerymen, on his horse, I saw the upper part of his head disappear. A cannon shot did the work, and he fell from his horse a corpse. By what I have just mentioned the reader can judge in regard to the condition of things during a battle, as this was only a sample of many similar scenes.
After extricating myself from the confused mass I made my way back to headquarters and reported to Gen. Palmer, and considered myself extremely fortunate in running the gauntlet of the enemy’s fire without injury to myself or horse.
Soon after making my report to the General the famous charge took place across Stone River by Gen. Negley’s division and other troops. Negley’s division formed the principal part of the charge. The men waded through water several feet deep, some of them waist deep. A few were shot while wading and fell into the water. The battle raged fiercely for a short time and the Confederates were repulsed with great loss. Gen. Rosecrans then ordered an advance and our soldiers obeyed with a cheer. We soon heard continuous cheering, and the Confederates were routed and on the run. Gen. Palmer was so elated over our success that he fairly stood up in the stirrups of his saddle and said, “The boys have got them on the run, the boys have got them on the run,” and swung his hat above his head. “Pap Palmer,” as he was called by some of the men, was loved by his soldiers, and as a consequence Palmer’s division nearly always held its line of battle, and did not know defeat.
Negley’s Charge Across Stone River, Jan. 2, 1863.
The day was drawing to a close, and the Confederates were falling back, leaving the battlefield in our possession. Thus ended the battle of Stone River. Just as it was getting dusk the General and I rode down across a portion of the field which had been occupied by the Confederates during the heavy firing from our artillery and musketry combined, and where Breckenridge’s corps lost 1,800 men in less than a half hour. We found the ground strewn with their dead so thickly that our horses could hardly pass through. It was a fearful sight to behold. The battle of Stone River proved to be a very hard-fought battle. The Federal loss was about 9,700 killed and wounded, and the Confederate about 10,000. The Federal army soon afterward occupied Murfreesboro, going into camp south and east of the town. The Confederacy had received another blow, but at a fearful loss of life. The Federal army was now being replenished with ammunition and other supplies, and remained in this vicinity during the winter months performing the ordinary military duties. Gen. Hazen’s brigade of Palmer’s division was camped 9 miles east of Murfreesboro on a high knob, where a signal station was located, and we received messages by signals from this station.
In the spring of 1863 Gen. Palmer moved his headquarters and a part of his division five or six miles east of Murfreesboro to Cripple Creek, where we remained until the latter part of June.