DEPARTURE FROM CRIPPLE CREEK.
Early on the morning of June 24th all were astir, and busily engaged in preparing to march. The word was given to be ready at 7 o’clock. The weather was quite cloudy, and indicated rain. At 8 o’clock it commenced raining; and shortly after, we were on the move, having bid adieu to Cripple Creek, which had so long been our home. The rain was now falling heavily, and so continued through the whole day.
After crossing the creek, we took a South-east course. The roads in many places were quite rough, but the country, generally, was level. We passed through a fine farming section, and the crops mostly looked flourishing, but somewhat backward, owing to the late spring frosts, which had delayed planting.
A march of six or eight miles brought us out on the Murfreesboro and Bradyville pike, and the roads were now in better condition. General Wood’s Division were here waiting for us to pass. A little further on, we found the Second Brigade, General Hazen, waiting to join us. Shortly after, we passed through the small town of Bradyville. About one mile beyond this, at a creek, a skirmish took place between some of the First Tennessee Cavalry and a party of Rebel Cavalry. Two of the Tennesseans were wounded, and, as usual, the enemy “skeedaddled.”
A halt was now made; and, after standing in the rain for an hour, we finally turned off the road, and camped for the night in a piece of woods. Thus ended our first day’s march from Cripple Creek.
The next morning was again rainy. Made a move at 6 o’clock, and found the roads rough and hilly. Had one very steep and bad hill to ascend, and found it necessary to double our teams; but it was some time ere all the guns and caissons were well at the top. We marched about five miles, and then halted for the wagon train to come up. The weather had now partially cleared. At 5 o’clock, seeing no prospect of the trains arriving that night, we finally camped. Some firing heard in the distance, on our left.
Next morning, the train had not reached us, and we could not move without it, as we were without provisions or forage. Were obliged to send back for feed for our horses. More rain was falling, and the roads were getting very heavy. About noon, the wagons arrived; but no further move was made, and we quietly remained in camp. Heavy firing was heard nearly all day. A general battle was reported as going on at Beech Grove, about twelve or fourteen miles distant. General Thomas’ Corps was engaged. Rumors were rife in camp, and several prisoners were brought in. Our camp was located at Holly Springs, about seventeen miles from Murfreesboro.
Saturday, June 27th. All hands were up at daylight, and prepared breakfast. The weather again cloudy. Firing on our right, still heard; but just before noon, ceased. At 12 o’clock, report came that General Thomas had defeated the Rebels and driven them, taking a large number of prisoners, and a lot of plunder.
At 1 o’clock, we once more got started, but the road was in a horrible condition; and after plodding slowly along for some six miles, we turned into a field near a creek and pitched our tents.
Sunday, June 28th. Morning cloudy. About 9 o’clock it commenced raining, but we were soon moving. Went two miles, and then prepared to camp; but the stumps and brush were so thick that it was some time ere we were enabled to pitch the tents. This was one mile from Manchester, and near a large creek, called the Barren fork of Duck river.
In the morning we were again moving, but nothing worthy of note transpired for several days.
Saturday, July fourth, eighteen hundred and sixty-three. This is the eighty-seventh anniversary of our National Independence, and here we are engaged in civil war. What would our old Revolutionary heroes say, could they but look in upon us? Ah! little did they dream when they laid down the sword and gun, that this country would ever again have cause to maintain her honor by sword-blade and cannon’s mouth; yet, this curse has been entailed upon us, by the vandal hand of the South. And now, to-day we stand up in a cause just as pure and holy as that for which our fathers fought in days gone by. We battle for our country as a whole; it must not, it can not be divided. Yes,
We’ll battle for our own true flag,
We’ll fight for every star;
In town, on plain, or beetled crag,
Our cause we’ll thunder far.
But, already a light—faint though it be—breaks over our war-tossed homes, and ’tis slowly but surely expanding. Ere another year be passed, we hope to see its effulgent rays light up all the dark corners of our land. That light, is the light of Liberty and Union.
But to our Battery.
We were now camped in the woods near Elk river, and there was but little prospect of our very soon getting out, as it rained almost uninterruptedly for several days, making our condition far from enviable. Our wagons, which had been left at Manchester, arrived early in the morning, as also did the train from Murfreesboro with provisions, which was hailed with delight. But still we were to be kept on half rations, as we had been for some time back.
During the afternoon the writer of this received two boxes of “good things” from home, and the men all gathered around him with open mouths and straining eyes.
There being a little “mountain dew” in one of the boxes, on inspection, it made some of the men feel in better spirits, and rather more patriotic.
Thus passed the 4th of July, 1863.
Tuesday, July 7th. About five o’clock in the afternoon cannonading was heard in the direction of Tullahoma, and from the regularity of the firing it was supposed to be occasioned by some good news. In a short time after, firing was heard much nearer, and evidently in General Thomas’s Corps, which was encamped on the opposite side of Elk river. One half hour later, the joyful news was received of the capture of Vicksburg, and the entire Rebel army of that place. The news spread like wild-fire through the camp, and every one was in high glee. Good news was also received from the army of the Potomac, which was now under the command of Major-General Meade.
Wednesday, July 8th. Early this morning received word to prepare for a move. Some of the batteries in our division fired a salute in honor of the victory achieved at Vicksburg. About half-past 7, we got started, and moved towards Manchester. The roads were in a horrible condition, and it was with difficulty that we were enabled to proceed. We passed through the town of Hillsboro, and here General Woods’s division went into camp while we pushed forward, and at 4 o’clock in the afternoon reached Manchester, a small town on the Chattanooga and Nashville railroad, and went into camp.
Our tents were pitched on the same ground that we formerly occupied, and on the following day we commenced clearing up and regulating the place, as it was evident that we were to remain here for several days. Shades of evergreens were erected over the tents, and the ground being hard and dry our situation was quite pleasant.
On Monday, July 13th, Generals Rosencrans and Crittenden, together with several other distinguished officers, arrived on the cars. They appeared to be on a tour of inspection; but after a short stop proceeded to McMinnville.
The Pay Master arrived on the following Wednesday, and took up quarters with Captain Standart. The next day we were paid for four months’ services, being up to July 1st.
The above comprises about all that occurred while in camp at Elk river, out of the usual course of camp life. The weather, while here, was quite hot, and frequent thunder storms ensued. Several prisoners were brought in at different times, and numerous foraging expeditions were sent out, and were generally successful, bringing in oats, rye, and hay. Farmers came in with wagon loads of potatoes, fruit and vegetables, which were readily bought by the soldiers. A number of men in our Battery built ovens, in which they baked bread, pies, etc.; and, as a general thing, we lived on the best the country afforded.
A few days before we left camp an addition was made to our Battery of twelve new members, who were enlisted on the Western Reserve, in Ohio. Orderly Sergeant Thompson, received his commission as Second Lieutenant, and William Camp was appointed Orderly Sergeant. William Broe, who was wounded at the battle of Stone river, rejoined us. Captain Standart was acting as Chief of Artillery for the division, and also sitting on the Court Martial board. We received a number of fresh horses from Nashville, together with a lot of new clothing. Several of the members who had been left in hospital at Murfreesboro, returned to duty. We remained in this camp just thirty-eight days.
At 3 o’clock on the morning of Sunday, August 16th, we were all aroused from a sound sleep, with the order to “turn out,” and “get ready to march.”
This was rather unexpected, and caused considerable surprise, as it was understood that no movement would be made until Monday. But, “no man knoweth what a day may bring forth.” So move it was, and at 8 o’clock we were “marching along.” About 10 o’clock we crossed Taylor creek, and headed towards McMinnville; but when we had proceeded some five or six miles it clouded up suddenly, and soon we were experiencing one of those thunder storms so peculiar to this region. In a couple of hours the storm had passed over, and the remainder of the day was quite pleasant. We reached Viola near sundown, and camped in a large field near the place.
At daylight all were up and had breakfast, expecting the usual early move. The morning was foggy, but at 8 o’clock the mist cleared away, and two hours later we were on the road.
We now turned off to the right, crossing a small creek; and, as we were now off the McMinnville pike, our expectations of going to that place vanished. We were once more nonplussed as to what was really our destination. As usual, various opinions were expressed.
It would really be laughable to an outsider to hear the surmises and “yarns” of the men about this, that and the other. One thing, however, was quite evident: that from the direction we were taking, we would soon be among the Cumberland mountains; and it further looked as if we were heading towards Chattanooga.
We soon found ourselves on a road over which we had marched nearly a year previous, and which leads from McMinnville to Altamont. This road is a succession of twists and turns, being similar to a street in Boston: it had no apparent beginning, nor ending.
After a tedious day of it—meeting with some slight accidents—at night we came near a large Female Seminary, and camped in the woods close by, and two miles from Collins river.
Started at 8 o’clock the next morning, and soon thereafter crossed Collins river. The road was now ascending, being in many places quite steep, and it was with much difficulty that we were enabled to transport our heavy guns. The horses were all pretty well used up at the end of the day, and some of them had given out entirely.
On Wednesday morning, according to orders of the previous evening, we got an early start, and at five o’clock were all on the road. The horses were suffering for want of food, as we had no forage for them, and we were obliged to send them back on the road for a supply.
The road now lay through a thinly settled part of the country, and very rocky and uneven. Water was scarcely to be obtained, and for the want of which there was much suffering. Frequent halts were found necessary, to rest both men and horses. At 2 o’clock we had made about fifteen miles; had now gained the summit, and were about to descend the mountain. We found this part of the road more heavy than that of the morning. In going down a steep pitch, the reach of the forge was broken, and a little further on, two caissons broke down. The men belonging to the detachments, together with the wagon maker, were left with them to make repairs. The remainder of the Battery continued on, and at 5 o’clock reached the small town of Dunlap, which is located in Sequatchie Valley, and one mile from the foot of the mountain.
At 10 o’clock on the morning of September 3d, we once more made a move, and about noon passed through the town of Jasper, making but a short halt. Five miles beyond the town, we crossed the Sequatchie river, and halted on its banks long enough to get dinner. At 4 o’clock we again moved forward, and continued on till about 8 o’clock in the evening, when we halted in a large field, about one mile from the Tennessee river.
Our orders were to unharness horses, but to be prepared to cross the river as soon as the moon rose. Accordingly none ventured to sleep; but we built large fires, cooked supper, and patiently awaited for the moon’s rising.
At 10 o’clock Miss Luna showed her face, which was the signal to move; and in a few moments we were on the way to the river. In a short time we reached its bank, and at once commenced crossing by means of ferry-boats; but it was daylight ere all were safely crossed, and at Shellmond.
Shellmond is nothing more than a railroad station, there being only the depot building to give it the name of a place. It is located on the Nashville and Chattanooga railroad, twenty-two miles from Chattanooga, and about sixteen from Stevenson, being on the South bank of Tennessee river. The place had been occupied by the Rebels a short time previous to our arrival, but they had been driven out by Union troops. The depot building, which is of brick, showed rough usage from the effects of cannon balls, shell and bullets—it being pretty well riddled.
About one mile from the depot is a large cavern, called the Knick-a-Jack Cave. Near by, are the salt works, which had been worked by the Rebels, but which were mostly destroyed by our troops, at the time the Rebels were driven out.
We remained in the above camp until the afternoon of September 5th, when, at 2 o’clock, we were once more on the move.
During our stay here, a large number of troops arrived from different points; and it was now plainly evident that our destination was Chattanooga, or its immediate vicinity, and all were in expectation of soon being once more engaged in deadly array with the enemy. The weather was extremely warm and sultry.
The division to which our Battery was attached, proceeded on the direct road to Chattanooga. In many places the road was narrow and rocky, and our progress was necessarily slow. The Tennessee river was frequently in plain view, and the road ran in close proximity to the railroad. We occasionally passed places where the Rebels had made a halt, and had hastily erected breastworks, or slight stockades, no doubt from fear of an attack from our forces.
At dark, all were anxiously awaiting for the order to encamp; but in this were disappointed, for we were still kept on the move. At half-past 9 o’clock we passed the ruins of the railroad bridge at Falling Waters. This bridge was formerly a splendid structure, but was now a complete wreck, having been destroyed by the Rebels. Three miles further, much to our gratification, we filed into a cornfield and camped for the night.
All were weary and well nigh worn out by the protracted march; but fires were soon lighted, and preparations made for supper.
It so happened that there was—to elegantly describe it—a hog pen near by, in which were several fine young “porkers,” and the men—though contrary to orders—were determined to make an inspection of the place. But how to manage the thing, without alarming the guard, was the question. Finally a plan was arranged: Two of the men were to stand sentry, while one, with axe in hand, and another with keen, glittering blade, were to knock on the head, and cut porkers’ throats. This done, they would be thrown out to the sentries, when they would at once drag them off into the field, where the initiated were to be lying in wait to receive them. But, alas! how often are poor mortals’ calculations vain. Owing to some blunder, the pigs took the alarm, and beat a hasty retreat into one corner of the pen, and their outcries soon brought a Major to the scene of action, who at once arrested all those who were in the vicinity of the pen, and all of whom were innocent of any crime. But to the guard-house they were marched, there to dream of pork in all its forms.
At daylight we were again on the move, and shortly after crossed the Georgia line, being the first time we had ever been in that State.
In many places there were evidences of a grand “skedaddle” having been made by the Rebels. The men now anxiously began to enquire along the road the distance to Chattanooga, and what about the enemy. To these questions they received about as intelligent answers as they might expect from a freshly imported Dutchman’s “Nix-cum-erouse,” as all we could learn was, that it was a “right smart distance,” and that Bragg had a “heap” of men, and us Yankees would wish ourselves “done gone.”
At noon, we arrived at Rock Cove mountain, and, on climbing to its summit, went into camp.
We remained here undisturbed during the following day, when, at evening roll-call, we were ordered to prepare to march. A large number of troops had come in during the day, and it was evident to all that something important was soon to occur.
At 1 o’clock on the morning of September 8th, we resumed our march, and without an incident, at night camped by the road-side. At daybreak the following morning, again moved forward, and just before noon arrived at the celebrated Lookout Mountain, and at once commenced its ascent. We were soon in plain view of Chattanooga; and from the top of this mountain the prospect of the surrounding country was grand and picturesque in the extreme.
Owing to the breaking down of a number of the transportation wagons, it was late in the day ere we were all safely over. But great was our surprise, on now finding ourselves faced in a contrary direction to Chattanooga. Soon, however, we learned that the enemy had evacuated the town, and were retreating towards Lafayette; so in that direction we shaped our course. Proceeding five miles further, we camped for the night.
The next day we continued the march, and now began to have skirmishes with the enemy’s rear-guard, and it was thought that a general engagement would soon be brought about.
Shortly before dark, we crossed the small river of Chickamauga, and two miles further on came to a halt.
We moved on the next morning, and after proceeding five miles, halted for dinner. But while we were quietly partaking of our food, a sudden and unexpected assault was made by a force of the enemy’s cavalry, which resulted in the capture of about fifty men of the First Kentucky Infantry, of our brigade, and who were on picket guard. So emboldened were the Rebels by their exploit, that they made a second dash, and into our very midst. But they met with a sudden check, and were soon put to flight, leaving several of their number dead and wounded in our hands. For the remainder of the day we were not disturbed, and lay in camp till the next morning.
The next day, at 10 o’clock in the morning, we arrived at the small town of Graysville. At this place were several mills and factories, which had been used in manufacturing various articles for the Confederates. These works were ordered to be destroyed, which was speedily accomplished, and soon thereafter we were again moving.
At 2 o’clock P. M., we reached the town of Ringgold. It was near this place that Colonel Creighton, and Lieutenant-Colonel Crane, of the gallant Seventh Ohio Infantry, were soon afterwards killed, while charging up the steeps at the head of their men.
We were here informed that the enemy’s rear guard had been driven from the town by our advance cavalry.
Remaining here for the night, early in the morning we moved forward; but not until we had destroyed the property of the rampant Rebels who resided in the place.
Passing through the town, we took a South-easterly course, and soon crossed Chickamauga river. After proceeding about eight miles, our column was suddenly brought to a halt, by our scouts coming in contact with the enemy’s rear guard. A lively skirmish now ensued, which resulted to our advantage, as several of the Rebels were killed and captured.
After this incident, we continued on our way, and at dark camped near Lee and Gordon’s Mills, which are situated on the Chickamauga river. Troops were constantly coming in, and there seemed to be a general concentration of our forces at this point. Something momentous was on the tapis.
Long ere daylight the following morning, we had made preparations to move, and were awaiting orders. From various movements going on in camp, it was apparent that the enemy were meditating mischief, as it was well known that they were in strong force in our immediate vicinity. About dark we changed our position by crossing the river.
At early dawn the next morning all were ready for orders. After waiting for some hours, word reached us that the enemy were retreating. Immediately we were pushed forward, and after going a few miles, arrived at a cross roads, when a halt was ordered.
It was now ascertained that the enemy were gradually falling back to the town of Lafayette, and where it was supposed they would concentrate their force and await an attack.
At 7 o’clock of the same evening, the clear, ringing notes of the bugle summoned us to our respective posts, and in less than ten minutes thereafter we were moving. But instead of going forward, a retrograde movement was made; or, in other words, we fell back. Here was mystery on mystery, to us soldiers, and many a sly wink, or ominous shake of the head, was exchanged. Two days later, however, plainly showed what this movement meant. All along the road flashed the camp-fires of the Union army. The night was cold and cheerless, and around the fires groups of weary, worn-out soldiers were gathered. Many a draft was made on some Confederate’s rail fence, for fuel to keep the fires going. Onward we slowly moved, sometimes through cornfields and woods. At 8 o’clock we turned into a large field, and now expected to go into camp. But in this were disappointed, for an hour later we were again ordered to proceed. Near midnight we turned into a cornfield, and, after considerable maneuvering, were ordered to pitch tents.
At peep-of-day, on the morning of September 18th, the camp was astir. Breakfast was hurried up, horses fed and watered, and soon we were ready to move. Orders were frequently given, and as often countermanded. Horses were harnessed and unharnessed, some half dozen times; but at last we made a go of it. Every few moments a halt was ordered; and thus it went until the day was nearly ended, and little progress had been made.
Shortly before dark we arrived at Gordon’s Mills and came to a halt. Considerable cannonading was now heard on our right, and Madame Rumor, with her thousand tongues, was busily circulating all manner of reports throughout the lines. One thing, however, was certain; and that was, matters must soon come to a focus, which the events of the following day will fully demonstrate.
At 8 o’clock, the same evening, our horses were harnessed and hitched to the guns; but hour after hour went by, and no word to move. Troops were constantly filing past our Battery. We huddled around the camp-fires and patiently awaited for orders. At midnight came the word to “forward,” and away we went. But little did we dream of what was in store for us the day following, and which resulted so disastrously to the Army of the Cumberland.