While the prisoners never became thoroughly posted in the principles of that Republic it looked at one time as if they would get, in an unpleasant manner, a knowledge of its practical workings. Enterprise was about forty miles from the seat of government of Jones. Held at Enterprise were about 100 officers of various regiments, (some of colored troops,) besides the officers of the 9th Cavalry and 3d Tennessee Cavalry captured at Sulphur Branch Trestle. The commander of the post was a Major Edward Ward, a resident of Indiana before the war, who had gone South in 1858, engaged in business, became identified with the people and interests of that section, and united his fortunes with those of the Confederacy at the breaking out of the war. He had not been so long away from the North as to have grown indifferent to his old home—he still had a soft place in his heart for Indiana. He invited the officers of the 9th to his headquarters and treated them as hospitably as his position and condition would allow. At roll-call at 10 o'clock, October 15, 1864, Major Ward informed the prisoners that he had just received information through his scouts that the Republic of Jones was threatening to capture the prison camp and massacre the prisoners, for the alleged reason that the imprisoned officers had commanded negro troops. He said he would not be able to protect them against the superior force and did not know what to do. The proposition of Major Lilly, following the announcement of the commander of the post, must have been in the nature of a surprise: "If you can not protect us allow us to protect ourselves." Major Ward asked what he meant by that. Major Lilly explained that he meant that the commander should place arms and ammunition in the hands of the prisoners, and then if they were murdered no blame could attach to him. Major Ward said that the arming of prisoners was without precedent, and would certainly be dangerous when they were numerically stronger than their guard. Major Lilly admitted that the proceeding was unusual, but the circumstances justified the innovation, and proposed that all the prisoners pledge their honor as officers and men to use the arms only in defence of themselves against the anticipated attack, and to surrender them when the danger was ended. The pledge was taken, and in the afternoon two wagon loads of muskets and one of ammunition were delivered to the prisoners, the guards were taken off, and each officer selected his gun and put it in condition for immediate use. Lieut. Harrod, who had not sufficiently recovered the use of his leg—wounded at Sulphur Branch Trestle—to be able to walk, was confined to the camp. Thus armed and equipped, the unwonted spectacle was presented of the Yank and Johnny marching side by side against the common enemy—Major Lilly, in the full uniform of the United States Army, with his gun at a right shoulder, by the side of a rebel, marching in the picket squad to the front. It was perhaps the earliest instance of the fraternizing of the Blue and the Gray.
The prisoners remained on duty three days and nights without being attacked. The enemy had learned that their plans were discovered and preparations made to meet them. A fight upon fair terms was not what they wanted, and they had withdrawn.
True to their pledged word the prisoners surrendered and stacked their arms—no gun nor man missing. They had shown that they were as honorable as brave, and from that time until they were sent North they were allowed greater freedom of movement—the guards simply patroled the camp. Citizens were allowed free access to camp, but the prisoners were not permitted to talk to them or the negroes on politics or the war.
THE HOOD CAMPAIGN.
Atlanta had fallen. Sherman, before starting on his "march to the sea," detached the Fourth and Twenty-fourth Corps, under command of Schofield, and sent them by forced march to Pulaski to watch Hood, who was at Florence, and to retard his advance into Tennessee until Thomas, who was at Nashville, could concentrate enough troops to—as Sherman pithily said—"take care of him." The main body of the 9th Cavalry had shortly before this been sent to Nashville to secure horses for mounting the regiment; a small number of each company only remained to guard the camp and stores.
About the 15th of November the forces from "the front" arrived, and soon our peaceful camp was the scene of warlike preparation. The beautiful slope which we had so long occupied was cut into rifle-pits, and just north of regimental headquarters a breast-work was raised, commanding the approaches from south and east.
Receiving information that indicated an advance of the enemy on Columbia by the way of Winchester, the works were abandoned. The infantry took up their line of march for Columbia, and the remnant of the 9th hastily loaded the camp equipments and stores and boarded the train for Nashville on the 23d of November, arrived on the morning of the 24th, and rejoined the main body who were encamped across the river in Edgefield. The remounting being completed, the cavalry forces at Nashville were rapidly organized as the seventh division of the cavalry corps—Gen. Knipe commanding. The first brigade, Gen. J. H. Hammond commanding, was composed of the 9th and 10th Indiana, the 2d and 4th Tennessee and 19th Pennsylvania.
On the 27th the first brigade moved through the city and down the Franklin Pike a few miles and went into camp; on the 28th, passed through Franklin to Spring Hill and went into camp, awaiting orders from the front. On the 29th moved to the left of the Columbia Pike and were all day in the saddle marching and counter-marching, slowly falling back, almost constantly within hearing of the fighting at the front.
On the night of the 29th marched across to the Triune Pike to repel an alleged flanking movement of the enemy, who failed to appear at that point. At day-light we went into camp, and after a hasty breakfast, snatched an hour of needed sleep. Soon the unwelcome "boots and saddles" sounded, and we resumed our weary waiting and watching, nearly always within sound of musketry, but not seeing the rebels nor hearing the "zip" of the unfriendly bullet. We marched and counter-marched, always halting nearer Nashville.
To those of us who had not yet seen a rebel under arms the suspense, the constant expectation of battle, was more trying than actual fighting afterwards proved. On this day when the sound of musketry drew nearer and nearer, we were drawn up in line, and with drawn sabres awaited the appearance of the enemy and an order to "charge." Expectation sat in a thousand pale faces as