Confederate wizards of the saddle /

by Bennett H. Young

A suspicious firing was soon heard in the direction of Castalian Springs. Quirk’s scouts were doing their best and bravest to hold the Federals in check. They were retiring only because the numbers of the enemy were overwhelming, but the Enfield rifles were speaking defiance to their assailants, and if they were receding it was only because prudence bade them go. Colonel Cluke and his regiment were sent to aid in the show of resistance and the pressure, still increasing, became so great that Gano’s regiment, which in the meantime had arrived, was sent to their support.

Time was never more valuable to any army than to this little Confederate brigade now leaving Hartsville. The Cumberland River, difficult of fording, was in front, and an enemy three times as strong was now pressing vigorously behind.

The artillery, which had been brought along, together with the captured guns, was placed on the south bank to protect the crossing. Courtesy to the conquered ceased to be the order of the hour. The captured were urged and driven forward at the highest possible speed. Some were hesitant about going, but war knows nothing of the law of politeness and their captors demanded double quick march from the crestfallen and distressed prisoners. The wagons were placed in front. Two captured Parrot guns made splendid companions for the “bull pups.” These remained with the Division until General Morgan’s capture in Ohio, July 26th, 1863. One of these was called “Long Tom” and was the object of great admiration and was held in truest affection by the whole force.

As the Confederates approached the river, the infantry began to be very chummy with the cavalry. At the highest possible speed and with great haste they had marched away from the scene of their splendid achievement. They had not been subjected to the bath which a few hours before had been the fate of the horsemen and they had no fancy to ford the icy stream, even under the Federal pressure behind them. A glorious victory had been won, in the winning of which every part of the brigade had borne a distinguished part. Heroes of a common venture, they were alike jubilant over the brilliant work of the morning, and when they got down to the stream it required neither pleading nor threats for the infantry to secure seats behind the horsemen, and so, two on each steed, with their legs lifted high out of the cold water, the patient, gentle, useful horses carried the victors to the south side of the stream.

Among the triumphs and congratulations, the cavalry was not indisposed to be generous to the unfortunate prisoners, and after the infantry had been delivered on the south side, where they might defend any attack of the approaching Federals, now extremely annoying and persistent, they recrossed the stream, and each horseman took a prisoner behind him and thus ferried him over, but the pursuit became fiercer and stronger, and as the cavalry, which were fighting the advance from Castalian Springs approached the stream, the situation became so emergent that the unfortunate prisoners who had not gotten a seat behind the cavalry were forced into the stream, which reached their waists, and required a wade through the rapid, cold current. This was not done without some threats of violence, but the water was to be preferred to bullets, and reluctantly, and with loud protests against such violation of the laws of war, accompanied by all sorts of “back talk,” the Federal prisoners were rushed through the water and with a close line of horsemen on either side were hurried across the stream. The victors had not thought of parole. Even if they had, there was no time to carry out the details of such a process. The eighteen hundred prisoners would look well in the column of the returning heroes when they reached Baird’s Mills and Murfreesboro, and with grim grip, the Confederates held on to their prisoners. Here and there one dropped out, but almost the entire number was gotten safely over the river and finally delivered to the guards at headquarters.

The rear guard bravely defended every foot of the ground. They were anxious to get away, but prudence and pride alike required that they should make stubborn resistance, and with every expedient known to cavalrymen, they delayed the approach of the Federal forces. The Federal commander had some disquieting fears about the number of men that were engaged in the expedition, and he did not press the pursuit as savagely as he would have done had he known that less than seven hundred men were standing in the pathway he must travel to reach his adventurous foes, who were now divided by the rapid currents of the icy stream.

A part of the Confederate dead who so gloriously had died were left behind. Their enemies gave them burial. War destroys the tenderness of sentiment. The safety of their own lives was more important than the sepulture of the slain, however bravely they had gone down in the struggle. Most of the wounded were placed in wagons and ambulances, which were driven away from the scene of carnage and battle. The infantry, in defense of their wounded comrades, had the call been made, would have been extremely dangerous customers. The economics of war are ruthless. The living, the fighters, are to be considered, and then the maimed and dead. On the horsemen fell the burden of the defense of the rear. During all the expedition, the web-footed infantry had gotten the worst of the deal, and the cavalry, gay, happy and mounted, were disposed to place no unnecessary work upon their comrades who were trudging their way back to their comrades, who were longing to hear the tidings of what battle had brought to those who had been selected for so dangerous a mission.

If the infantry had looked with side glances at the cavalry when at Baird’s Mills, they had now lost the recollection of such ungenerous feelings in admiration for the horsemen who, dismounted, had manifested a courage and valor equal to their own, and who, in the charge and advance upon the enemy at Hartsville, and in standing off the Federal pursuers, had displayed an intrepidity that was not unworthy of any Kentucky Confederates, be they men who walked or men who rode to battle. Whenever Hartsville was recalled or its experiences were freshened in their minds, there was no distrust of the steadfastness of the 3rd, 8th and 11th Kentucky Cavalry, and the gallant 9th Tennessee, and by common consent the 2nd and 9th Kentucky Infantry admitted these regiments which had been with them at Hartsville into the full brotherhood of war’s heroes.

The captured guns and the four pieces brought by Morgan were pounding away on the south bank of the river and hurling shot and shell at the pursuers on the north bank, serving notice on the Federals that thus far and no farther could they come. It never entered the minds of the Federals that the Confederates were so few in number. They could not understand how any commander with the slightest prudence would expose his men to such risk as Morgan had dared. It would have been questionable for even cavalry to have undertaken such a campaign, but to jeopardize two of the best regiments of infantry in the army of Tennessee by marching and fighting so far from their military base, and with such liability to attack on the rear and flank, was inconceivable to the Federals who were pursuing. They concluded that there were at least three times as many in the battle as had captured their comrades at Hartsville. Colonels Harlan and Moore estimated Morgan’s fighting force at five thousand, and Federal officers declared that they had seen several regiments of infantry and cavalry standing across the river awaiting the return of their comrades who had gone over the stream and won victory at Hartsville.

By eleven o’clock the agony was past. The pursuit was ended. Joy and complacency filled the hearts of the infantry as they tramped back to Baird’s Mills. They did not ask to ride any more. The cavalry marched in the rear and stood guard and waited for approaching foes. None came. After crossing the stream, courtesy and generosity prompted kindness to the blue-coated prisoners. There was no word of unkindness spoken.