I overtook the command and General Longstreet shortly after their arrival at Chickamauga Station, and we had the satisfaction of knowing that it was “the Virginia troops,” as they were called, to whom was mainly due the glory of the victory we won at Chickamauga. Our loss was severe, and Colonel Manning, my immediate superior, was slightly wounded and placed hors de combat. This left me in name, as in fact, in charge of the Ordnance Department of the corps.
I wish that I could remember precisely what took place the next day, when I went with Major Walton to find General McLaws, in the neighborhood of Chattanooga. We were exceedingly anxious that he should drive right on after the enemy, but he made the objection at once that the movement might not be successful, and would be sure to be attended with heavy loss. He said, however, that he would make the advance if we gave him an imperative order in General Longstreet’s name to do so. This order we declined to give, to my present regret, and General McLaws contented himself with asking General Longstreet to send him some more ambulances. When we reached General Longstreet late that night, and told him what General McLaws had said, his only remark was a wish that the ambulances were in a hotter place than Chattanooga. Longstreet did not love McLaws, and preferred charges against him afterwards for neglect of duty in the attack on Fort Sanders, at Knoxville.
The whole army came up, and the investment of Chattanooga began. Our head-quarters were in the low ground, which was always under water in winter, but we managed tolerably well as long as fine weather lasted. Soon the rain began to fall steadily, and it was a difficult matter so to arrange the ditches around our tents as to save ourselves from being washed away at night.
Frank Vizetelly, the artist and correspondent of the Illustrated London Times, joined us here; and with him was Captain Ross, of the Austrian service. Ross was of Scotch descent, but was born in Austria, and belonged to one of the crack light cavalry regiments. There was a good deal of merry-making, and it was no uncommon thing to see a half dozen officers, late at night, dancing the “The Perfect Cure,” which was one of the favorite songs of the day in the London music halls, and was introduced to our notice by Vizetelly.
There were sharp discussions occasionally as to what should take place when the war should be over and the independence of the Confederate States was assured. Major Walton I had always disliked heartily, and in one of our conversations he said that, when the Confederate States enjoyed their own government, they did not intend to have any “d—d foreigners” in the country. I asked him what he expected to become of men like myself, who had given up their own country in order to render aid to the Confederacy. He made a flippant reply, which I answered rather warmly, and he struck at me. I warded off the blow, and slapped his face. The next morning I sent him a challenge by Captain Ross. Walton, however, did not want a fight at this time, and offered to make an ample apology in writing. A day or two passed, and as no apology came I sent Ross to him again. Walton now took the position that he had been hasty in his action, and that if he had not promised to do it he would not make an apology at all. Ross told him very quietly, in his quaint way, that he must please consider everything blotted out that had taken place since he had borne the challenge, and that we would begin it again at that point and settle the affair in any way that Walton preferred. This brought Walton to terms, and he made the apology I required.
[XXIII.]
The position of the army in front of Chattanooga was not as strong as we supposed, and the enemy succeeded in reopening their communications and obtaining supplies. There was no longer any expectation that we should be able to starve them out, and it was determined to make a diversion in another direction. The plan was to detach Longstreet, who should pass down the Sweet Water Valley and capture Burnside’s forces which were in the neighborhood of Knoxville. Before going away, I was exceedingly anxious to complete the equipment of our corps, but Bragg’s Chief of Ordnance, Colonel Oladowski, was inordinately fond of red tape, and I should have been in bad plight but for a quantity of Enfield rifles I had prudently brought from Virginia with me. Oladowski could outcurse any man in the army I ever met, except Jubal Early and M. W. Gary. It was one of his boasts that he had “evacuate Murphreysboro with zee whole army and lose only one grindstone.” It disgusted him, too, that Colonel Manning should have been wounded. He said to me: “My friend! what for Colonel Manning he go into zee fight?” I told him it was the custom of our Ordnance officers to do so. “I tell you sar,” said Oladowski, “he not go into zee fight for love zee country. I know! I know! he go into zee fight to get promotion and zee little furlough. Vell! vell! vell! I wish I was in h—ll ten year before dis war begin!”
I learned afterwards that Oladowski was the Ordnance Sergeant at the Baton Rouge Arsenal at the time the war began, and, of course, not a man of education or position. He was a good-hearted fellow, but I fear that after the disastrous defeat of Bragg’s army at the battle of Missionary Ridge, after Longstreet’s departure, he could not well have congratulated himself on having lost “only one grindstone.”