History of Morgan's Cavalry

by Basil Wilson Duke

Just twelve miles distant upon the other side, at Marrowbone, lay Judah's cavalry, which had moved to that point from Glasgow, in anticipation of some such movement upon Morgan's part as he was now making. Our entire strength was twenty-four hundred and sixty effective men—the first brigade numbering fourteen hundred and sixty, the second one thousand. This, however, was exclusive of artillery, of which we had four pieces—a section of three-inch Parrots attached to the first brigade, and a section of twelve-pound howitzers attached to the second. Videttes, posted at intervals along the river bank, would have given General Judah timely information of this bold crossing, and he would have been enabled to strike and crush or capture the whole force. But he depended on the swollen river to deter Morgan, forgetting that Morgan invariably did that which was least expected of him. As soon as the latter learned of the strange supineness and lack of vigilance of his foe, he commenced and hastened the work of crossing the river. About two or three p.m., the enemy began to threaten both brigades, but did not advance with determination. The Sixth Kentucky and Ninth Tennessee had all been gotten across at Burkesville by this time, and portions of the other regiments were also across, as well as two pieces of artillery. General Morgan formed this entire force, and led it to attack the enemy threatening Burkesville. He placed a portion of it in ambush at a point about a mile from the town, and, when the head of the enemy's column approached, fired such a volley into it as made it at once recoil. Then charging, he drove the enemy back in confusion and at full speed, never letting them halt until they reached the encampment at Marrowbone. He pursued the force which he had routed into the camp, but was repulsed in an attack upon the latter by the artillery and reserve forces there.

The effect of this bold dash, was to draw back the force threatening Johnson, also, and allow him to cross without molestation. Our loss was very slight—among other gallant fellows who were hurt, Captain Quirk was so severely wounded in the arm that he could go no further upon the expedition. Several prisoners were taken. The enemy, after this hint not to interfere, remained shut up in his encampment until we were no longer in any danger.

The division encamped that night about ten miles from the river, on the road to Columbia. A large party of Commissaries of Subsistence were with us, sent by General Bragg to collect supplies north of the Cumberland and bring them to Tullahoma, escorted by one of Morgan's regiments. A variety of causes conspired to prevent these gentlemen from returning at the time, and in the manner contemplated by General Bragg. In the first place, we learned, immediately after we had crossed the Cumberland, by men who came from the rear, that General Bragg had already commenced his retreat—this would considerably lengthen the distance which the Commissaries would have to drive their cattle. Secondly, General Morgan came to the conclusion that he had use for all of his troops, and that he would not detach the regiment which was to have guarded the cattle. This resolution not only prevented the cattle from being driven to General Bragg, but also decided the Commissaries not to return immediately. The country through which they would have had to pass, was infested by a set of bushwhackers, in comparison with whose relentless ferocity, that of Bluebeard and the Welch giants sinks into insignificance. Chief among them was "Tinker Dave Beattie," the great opponent of Champ Ferguson. This patriarchal old man lived in a cove, or valley surrounded by high hills, at the back of which was a narrow path leading to the mountain. Here, surrounded by his clan, he led a pastoral, simple life, which must have been very fascinating, for many who ventured into the cove never came away again. Sometimes Champ Ferguson, with his band, would enter the cove, harry old Dave's stock and goods, and drive him to his retreat in the mountain, to which no man ever followed him. Then, again, when he was strong enough, he would lead his henchmen against Champ, and slay all who did not escape. But it must not be understood that he confined his hostility to Captain Ferguson and the latter's men: on the contrary, he could have had, had he so chosen, as many scalps drying in his cabin as ever rattled in the lodge of a Camanche war-chief, and taken with promiscuous impartiality. There were not related of Beattie so many stories, illustrative of his personal strength and bull-dog courage, as of Champ Ferguson. I have heard of the latter having gone, on one occasion, into a room where two of his bitter enemies lay before the fire, both strong men and armed, and, throwing himself upon them, he killed both (after a hard struggle) with his knife. But Beattie possessed a cunning and subtlety which the other, in great measure, lacked. Perhaps he was more nearly civilized. Both of these men were known to have spared life on some rare occasions, and perhaps none were so much astonished, thereat, as themselves. On one occasion, Ferguson was called upon to express an opinion regarding the character of a man who had been arrested near a spot where bushwhackers had just fired upon the party he (Ferguson) was with, and, from several suspicious indications, this man was thought to be one of them. By way of giving him a chance, it was decided that Ferguson, who knew every man in that country, should declare his doom, influenced by his previous knowledge of him. Ferguson, somewhat to the astonishment of the tribunal, begged that he should be released, saying, that he knew he was a Union man, but did not believe that he was a bushwhacker. The man was released. Subsequently, Ferguson said, after a long fit of silence, "I have a great notion to go back and hunt that man. I am afraid I have done wrong, for he is the best shot in this part of the State, and, if he does turn bushwhacker, he will kill a man at every shot." Such extreme nicety of conscience was not attributed to Beattie, nor was he said to be as faithful to his friends as was Ferguson.

Such were the kind of men whom our friends, of the Subsistence Department, would have had to encounter, if they had gone back. There were, at the time, no Confederate troops in that country, and Champ Ferguson was resting in inglorious ease at Sparta. Dave Beattie had broken out of his cove, and was ready to hold "bloody assizes" as soon as he secured his victims. Our friends were not accustomed to "raiding" and to cavalry habits, but, after thorough reflection, they resolved, with a heroism that would have done honor to the heavy artillery service, not to return, but to face all the hardships and dangers of the expedition. They were gallant men, and endured the tremendous fatigue, and shared the hardships as cheerfully as if they had come legitimately by them.

The chief of this party, Major Highley (from Mobile), was as full of dash and as fond of adventure, as a man could be. He sought the front on all occasions, and soon became a thorough cavalryman in all respects. General Morgan placed him upon his staff and he proved a very efficient officer, and seemed much gratified that his commissaries had been cut off.

There was one case of almost abduction, however, which excited universal regret and commiseration:

An old gentleman, from Sparta, had come with the division to Burkesville to get a barrel of salt—as there was none to be had at Sparta. His benevolent virtues had endeared him to all who knew him, and, so, when it became apparent that he must go back, leaving behind him his purchase, and at the risk of fearful dangers, or follow us through the whole raid, he received much and unaffected condolence. He perfectly realized his situation. He knew that, if he fell into "Tinker Dave's" hands, he would be pickled without salt, and he had not the slightest idea of trying it on. And yet he felt a natural sorrow at going so far away from home. Some two weeks later, when we were in Ohio, and being peppered by the militia, he said to an officer of the first brigade with tears in his eyes, and a touching pathos in his voice: "Captain, I would give my farm in White county, Tennessee, and all the salt in Kentucky (if I had it), to stand once more—safe and sound—on the banks of the Calf-killer creek."

On the morning of the 3rd, the division resumed its march, pushing on to Columbia. Colonel Morgan's regiment, although included in the field return of the first brigade, was detached and used as an advance-guard for the column. In the afternoon, as we neared Columbia, this regiment came upon the enemy moving out from the town. In the skirmish which ensued, Colonel Morgan lost a few wounded—among the number Captain J.T. Cassell, who was shot in the thigh as he was charging with his accustomed gallantry. He was placed in an ambulance and went, in that way, through the raid, and escaped capture. Captain Cassell had been ordered to report to Colonel Morgan with his Company, a few weeks previously, and was acting as second in command of the advance-guard. Captain Franks of the Second Kentucky was ordered to report to Colonel Morgan, to fill the position left vacant by the disabling of Captain Cassell. After this skirmish had lasted a short time, the Second Kentucky was ordered up to support Colonel Morgan. Major Webber dismounted his men and attacked with great vigor. The enemy did not stand a moment—were driven back into the town, fought a short time from the houses, and were soon dislodged and driven pell-mell out of the town. Major Webber lost two men killed. The enemy's loss was also slight. It was a detachment of Woolford's regiment, and retreated toward Jimtown. Some disgraceful scenes occurred in Columbia as the troops were passing through. One or two stores were broken into and plundered. General Morgan immediately went to the spot, arrested the marauders, punished them, and compelled the restitution of the goods.

On that evening the division encamped six or eight miles from Columbia. A regiment of Federal infantry was stationed at Green river bridge, where the road from Columbia to Campbellsville and Lebanon crosses the Green river. General Morgan sent Captain Franks to watch them, who reported that, during the entire night, he heard the ringing of axes and the crash of falling timber. The next morning we learned what it meant. Early on the 4th the column was put in motion, and the second brigade (marching in front), soon came upon the enemy. Colonel Moore, the officer commanding the Federal force (a Michigan regiment), had selected the strongest natural position, I ever saw, and had fortified it with a skill equal to his judgment in the selection. The Green river makes here a tremendous and sweeping bend, not unlike in its shape to the bowl of an immense spoon. The bridge is located at the tip of the bowl, and about a mile and a half to the southward, where the river returns so nearly to itself that the peninsula (at this point) is not more than one hundred yards wide—at what, in short, may be termed the insertion of the handle—Colonel Moore had constructed an earthwork, crossing the narrow neck of land, and protected in front by an abattis. The road upon which we were advancing, runs through this position. The peninsula widens again, abruptly, to the southward of this extremely narrow neck, and just in front of the skirt of woods, in which the work and abattis was situated, is an open glade, about two hundred yards in extent in every direction. Just in front of, or south of this plateau of cleared ground, runs a ravine deep and rugged, rendering access to it difficult, except by the road. The road runs not directly through, but to the left of this cleared place. All around it are thick woods, and upon the east and west the river banks are as steep and impassable as precipices. At the southern extremity of the open ground, and facing and commanding the road, a rifle-pit had been dug, about one hundred and twenty feet long—capable of containing fifty or sixty men, and about that number were posted in it. When Colonel Johnson's brigade neared the enemy, he sent Cluke with his own regiment and the Tenth Kentucky, then greatly reduced in numbers, to cross the river at a ford upon the left of the road, and take position on the northern side of the river, and commanding the bridge.

This was intended to prevent the retreat of the enemy and keep off reinforcements that might approach from the northward. A flag of truce was then sent to Colonel Moore, demanding the surrender of his command. He answered, "It is a bad day for surrenders, and I would rather not." Captain Byrnes had planted one of the Parrots, about six hundred yards from the rifle-pit, and skirmishers had been thrown out in front of it. As soon as the bearer of the flag returned, Byrnes opened with the gun. He fired a round shot into the parapet thrown up in front of the trench, knocking the fence rails, with which it was riveted, into splinters, and probing the work. One man in the trench was killed, by this shot, and the rest ran (just as our skirmishers dashed forward) and retreated across the open ground to the work in the woods beyond. Now the serious business commenced. Artillery could not be used to dislodge them from the position which was meant to be defended in earnest. This open ground, between the points where were constructed the rifle-pit (which was only a blind) and the strong work where Moore intended to fight, is the flat summit (for crest, properly speaking, it has none) of a hill, or rather swell of land, which slopes gently away on both the northern and southern sides. Guns planted anywhere, except upon this plateau, and near its center, could not have borne upon the enemy's position at all—and, if they had been planted there, every cannoneer would have been killed before a shot could have been fired. The only way to take the work was by a straight forward attack upon it, and Colonel Johnson moved against it his brigade, or rather the two regiments of it, left on the southern side of the river. The men, gallantly led, dashed across the open ground and plunged into the woods beyond.