Campaign of Battery D, First Rhode Island Light Artillery

by Ezra Knight Parker

I had calculated that I could make the ride of thirty miles in about four hours, but in consequence of the slow progress through the woods, it took me much longer, and it was some time after midnight that I discovered several hundred yards ahead of me a fire just outside of the road, partly screened by bushes. I knew that it ought to be a Union picket thrown out by our troops in Knoxville, but I deemed it best to make sure. Most of the way on this road there were few stones, large or small. It was generally a dry loam, and hence a horse though shod, upon the walk would make but little noise. I walked along slowly upon one side of the road towards the fire, ready to turn and race down the road if it should be necessary for my safety. Some additional fuel was cast upon the fire, and it lighted up so that I could distinguish a soldier in our uniform, and I at once went boldly forward. I soon was observed by our picket and duly challenged. After I had given the countersign and shown my pass to the officer in command, I was taken to the picket station and well entertained. Early in the day I reported to General Burnside. When I was about to leave, he questioned me about my journey from Loudon, and instructed me to return with a column that would leave for Loudon that afternoon. I returned to our camp the next day about 2 P. M., in fair condition.

On October 29th, our battery was parked near Lenoir's Station, on the edge of a fine grove of pine trees. Here we were informed that our winter quarters would be. Our men at once entered upon the construction of log cabins for the command, as well as stables for our animals. This work went rapidly forward, as the pine woods furnished ready and ample material. We also utilized a large barn built of weather beaten boards which stood near our camp. The boards furnished floors for the cabins and roofs for our stables. The roofs of the cabins were covered with paulines. By the 13th of November, the camp was completed and we all looked forward for a pleasant time during the approaching winter.

The scientists of the battery had captured a still on one of their foraging expeditions, and in a week or so more the intention was to furnish a liberal supply of pure whiskey at moderate prices. But "man proposes and God disposes," and on the morning of the 14th, our short, sweet dream of cosy winter quarters was broken. Soon after reveillé, before the men had fallen into line for roll call, there was the sound of heavy artillery firing at Loudon. We proceeded with the regular camp duties and at the usual time ate our breakfast. Soon we learned the news. General Longstreet, of the Army of Northern Virginia, with his famous corps which had done good service for the rebel arms at Chickamauga, had been sent by General Bragg from Chattanooga to capture Burnside and to clean out the Tennessee and Holston valleys from Southern Tennessee to the southern boundary of Virginia. The veterans of Longstreet had been told that some 15,000 raw troops were scattered from Loudon to Knoxville, who would retreat in confusion at the first appearance of General Longstreet.

It seems that it was not generally known that the Ninth Corps had arrived in the valley. The rebels attempted to lay down a pontoon bridge at Hough's Ferry, a short distance below Loudon. The troops sent to oppose the crossing were from both the Ninth and Twenty-third Corps. The enemy was not a little surprised at the successful resistance which our troops made to his advance. He was held all day from advancing from the river, and the opinion was that Longstreet would be defeated on the morrow. General Grant had requested General Burnside to maintain himself for a short time, until he, Grant, could fight the battle of Missionary Ridge; then he would promptly send him assistance. General Burnside, it seems, was so confident that he could hold his own with Longstreet, that he proposed to allow Longstreet to cross the Tennessee so that it would not be possible for him to return to General Bragg in time to aid him in the coming fight.

So, on the night of the 14th, it was decided to fall back, and on the 15th General Burnside gave orders to retreat slowly as far as Lenoir's. Our battery remained in camp all this time, ready to move. It was not until 5 P. M., on the 15th, that we began to move on the main road to Campbell's station. This night march was the most horrid of all my nearly four years' experience in the United States Army. Language will fail to do it justice. I was chief of the left section and brought up the rear, or was supposed to. It had rained for twenty-four hours and the frost was about all out of the ground. The soil was a rich clay, two or three feet in depth. Our horses were not very strong, and after they had dragged the guns and caissons about a mile, their strength was gone.

I was instructed to retreat slowly and in case our rear guard, composed of infantry and cavalry, should find it necessary to make a stand, I was to go into battery. The right and center sections had gone far ahead of me, as the road was not cut up so bad for them, and it literally seemed, in the language of the poet Horace, that the "Devil would take the hindmost." After the first mile we came to a long, deep bed of sticky mud. I rode in advance, and found that about a half mile ahead there was a little knoll of cleared land, comparatively dry, and skirted by a high, worm fence of good oak rails. So I went back and ordered an advance. By pushing hard, we were able to move our tired teams. Before we had made 200 yards, we were stalled. Then we all, non-commissioned officers, privates and myself, put our shoulders to the wheels and made another 200 yards. We were all wet inside by sweat and outside by mud and water. Never have I seen men do better. At last, somehow, near morning, we reached the knoll, a mile and a half from camp, physically used up. The caissons in front with guns to the rear, we drew up by the roadside and replenished the smouldering fires with rails. Our horses, poor things, were reeling, scarcely able to stand under the weight of their harness.

One of the buglers had been detailed to accompany me, and I sent him forward to report to the captain our condition and to ask for orders. Meantime, the colonel in command of the rear guard sent word that the rebel skirmishers were pressing him hard, and that he could not hold them back much longer. I roused the weary men and sent a sergeant to select an easier way through the fields. Before he reported, the bugler returned with orders from the captain to destroy and throw away my ammunition. I had never disobeyed an order, but in this case I knew that we had a short supply of ammunition for our 12-pound Napoleons in all the Tennessee valley; that guns without ammunition were useless, and so I hesitated. One round was thrown into the mud by a corporal, who heard the report of the bugler to me. I immediately stopped further destruction and proceeded to place my pieces in battery for opening upon the advancing rebel lines, and I had asked our infantry to unmask our front so that we could have a clear field. I gave the order to "load with solid shot," and immediately my men were as active as ever under the excitement of a fight. Before the order was executed I heard my name called, and an officer reported to me with four fresh, 6-mule teams.

General Burnside had burned a large quartermaster's train in order to save his artillery and its ammunition. The arrival of the mules prevented the destruction of our ammunition and the skirmish which I had arranged. I was informed that I should make all haste, as General McLaw had been sent by the Kingston road to cut off our retreat. The two roads, one from Kingston and one from Loudon, intersected a mile south from Campbell's Station. The drivers unhitched their horses and were sent on ahead in order to be out of our way. As soon as the mules were attached to our guns and caissons, they were started, and away they went, through the deep mud, up hill and down, until they passed safely the Kingston road about 10 A. M., and we parked in the open field with the rest of our battery.

A sharp fight took place at the junction of these roads, in which our people more than held their own. We made some coffee, ate a little corn bread, and all of us felt young again. My men and myself were still covered with mud. While our battery and its division were halted, columns of troops were rapidly moving forward and deploying north of the village of Campbell's Station. The position was this: Here was an opening in the woods about three miles long from north to south, and from a mile to a mile and a half in width. The south end was higher than the middle. From the middle to the north was quite a rise of from fifty to 100 feet, where was spread out a broad plateau, which commanded the whole open tract of land. The village was in the lowest part of the tract. Upon the plateau at the north, General Burnside was placing a portion of his troops, including three or four light batteries.

Our battery soon had orders to move, and on we went, followed closely by our rear guard, which itself was closely pursued by the rebels. Our front line of battle was partially in the village of Campbell's Station, protected very well by the buildings. Our battery did not halt until we arrived upon the plateau. Soon we were assigned a position to protect our extreme right and right flank. After getting into position, we had nothing to do but to observe the movement of the enemy. We soon beheld a splendid exhibition of war. The rebel skirmishers first appeared in the open, carefully examining the ground to find if we had a concealed line of battle near. They soon advanced a half mile or less and found no opposition. There they rested, and we soon saw the rebel columns debouch from both the Loudon and the Kingston roads. At last there came a battery of 20-pounder rifled guns, with several white horses, and went into position on the right of the road.