Color-Sergeant Ricks, of Company E, a noble boy, was killed, and, in the darkness, the colors were lost. The rebels, protected by the wall, were safe from sabre or bullet. The plunging of the horses, the cries of the wounded, the shouting of the officers, the lurid flashing of guns, fitfully lighting the scene, made a situation inadequately described by the modified term of the "new version."
The surprise, the darkness and disorder, the impossibility of returning the fire, left but one thing to do. A united rush was made to the right. The rail fence, bounding the road, went down with a crash—officer and man, with equal zeal, seeking safety in flight. The enemy pursued with shout and yell and hissing bullet. It was not a panic. It was good, hard sense. To get out of that hopeless hell was strictly business.
The enemy did not pursue very far. Halting in the woods, Hammond made an effort to get the brigade in line. He was so hoarse he could not speak above a whisper. It was found that all the officers were likewise too hoarse to make themselves heard, and the attempt was abandoned. Each officer and man sought sleep and rest where best it suited him. Sleep did not at once fall upon the camp. Silence there was, but not sleep. The chagrin of failure, the separation from comrades who might be dead or wounded, and in the hands of the enemy, added tenfold to the horror of the night, itself wet, cold, comfortless. At last tired nature succumbed to the drowsy god, and all too soon the morning bugle awoke us from slumber to the duties and dangers of another day.
On the 18th the command, encountering no enemy, marched to near Spring Hill, and went into camp. Resuming the march on the 19th, reached Rutherford's Creek. This stream was out of its banks, its current a torrent, making a more effective rear guard for the defeated army than even Forrest's brave and determined troops. The almost impassable condition of the roads delayed the arrival of the pontoons until the 20th. Meantime the infantry had overtaken us, and gone into camp near us.
When the infantry came from the front and began work on the defenses at Pulaski, they did not have a very high opinion of the cavalry arm of the service. This feeling was fairly illustrated in the remark of a bronzed veteran visiting our camp. He said: "The artillery makes the noise, the cavalry makes the show, and we do the work!" A General was heard to express his contempt for this arm of the service by offering to pay $10 per head for each cavalryman killed in battle. These boys had now followed our line of march and constant battle for some days. They had seen the character of the work done, and from them now was heard only words of warmest commendation. These were the heroes of Atlanta, and to have thus earned their enthusiastic approval, conquering their prejudice and compelling respect, was doubling our laurels and glory enough. Their unstinted praise was not more grateful to our hearts than was the generous sharing of their scant store of hard-tack to our now, for a day or two, "strictly corn-fed" stomachs.
The bridge across Rutherford's Creek being completed, on the 21st we crossed and moved down to Columbia. Duck River, swollen by the rains, that for a week had almost constantly fallen, was now a wide, deep and turbulant stream. The rain had ceased to fall, and it was snowing instead. The wind was blowing a gale from the northwest. This greatly increased the difficulty of bridging the stream, and it was December 23d before we were enabled to cross the river and resume the pursuit. We had been called up the midnight preceding, struck our tents, and, mounting, moved down near the river, where we sat upon our horses in the wind and flying snow—a dismal, dark, dreadful two hours—and then back to camp again.
About 10 o'clock A. M. on the 23d, we crossed the bridge and moved some miles down the Pulaski Pike, not encountering the enemy.
On the 24th, we moved through the fields on the right of Gen. Croxton's brigade. We were not in advance this day, and, while always in hearing of the guns, were not directly engaged. All this day, as we followed in the wake of the fight, our eyes were constantly greeted with unmistakable evidences of the struggle in front. No one will forget the little knot of dead and dying artillerymen and horses by the road-side, maimed and mangled by a bursting shell, a gory, ghastly sight.
Forrest, with the main body of his cavalry, had reached the line of Hood's retreat at Columbia, and from that point interposed a force not inferior in numbers, or discipline, to the cavalry corps pursuing. In addition to this force, we were hourly confronted by five brigades of infantry, under Gen. Walthall. So great a force, aided by bad roads and swollen streams, made it impossible for us to break through their defence. It is true that at every stand made by the enemy, we drove him from his position, but when he fell back it was usually in good order, and more as one who had accomplished a purpose than as a beaten and demoralized foe.
On the 25th, we pushed on, following the advance, which drove the enemy through Pulaski so closely, that he did not have time to destroy the bridge over Richland Creek. The men detailed to fire the bridge were killed or captured and the fire extinguished. Another stand was made at Reynolds' or Anthony's Hill, south of Pulaski. Our brigade was ordered to support the first brigade, sixth division, in an attack on this position. The enemy made strong resistance, and for some time the battle raged without advantage on either side. Hammond's brigade was ordered up. The 9th Indiana, with Companies I and D as skirmishers, advanced on the enemy's left. His skirmishers were soon met and driven back on the main line, lying along the top of the hill. A heavy fire was opened on these two companies, and they were compelled to fall back on the supporting column—which, going into line, advanced upon the enemy. Meantime the brigade in advance had been repulsed, and fell back in confusion,—the 7th Ohio cavalry breaking through the advancing column between the 4th Tennessee and the remainder of the brigade. The 4th charged gallantly and drove the pursuing enemy back into his works, but the support being delayed by the demoralized 7th Ohio, failed to come up, and the 4th was compelled to withdraw. Now it was that our regiment advanced with the 2d Tennessee on our left. Coming within sight of the defences, the whole line, with a yell and mighty rush, swept up the hill over the works and across the opening after the flying foe, who disappeared in the woods beyond. Company I had a place in this charge. Company D, being on the right of the skirmish line, had, in falling back, after helping develop the enemy's position, missed the supporting column—having to go around a precipitous hill to rejoin the regiment, only reached the scene in time to observe, but take no part in, the charge, which closed the day's work.