I have read accounts of the neatly arranged graves of these men with the beautiful marble headstones, furnished at the expense of the government, in our great national cemeteries; but I never think of those great armies of the dead but I think, how many might have been saved. Very many of those headstones are more monuments to the lack of good sense on the part of the government, than a noble and patriotic generosity. Nearly all of our soldiers that died of disease in hospitals, could and should have been sent home and saved. I remember very well it was never any trouble to procure a leave of absence for a sick or wounded officer, but to procure one for a poor private in the ranks was altogether a different matter.
It may not be out of place for me to give you a brief account of an effort that I made to procure furloughs for three most worthy sick men, while at Manchester, just before we started on the Chattanooga campaign.
These men were afflicted with that terrible disease, that with the aid of the government and its surgeons has slain its tens of thousands, known as camp or chronic diarrhœa. I made out an application for furloughs for these men, knowing full well that the time was very brief, that we must leave these brave men to the care of entire strangers—men that did hospital duty, as they did any other, because they were ordered to; and knowing full well that, in all human probability, they would never return to the regiment if they were sent to the hospital, I determined to make a great effort to save them. I procured a very earnest indorsement from our regimental surgeon, Major Dewitt C. Patterson, than whom a more competent or kinder hearted surgeon never had the health of a regiment in charge, also the very favorable indorsement of our colonel; but he refused to give me leave to carry the application to brigade headquarters, for good reasons, no doubt, as he informed me that the application must go through the regular channel. I told him "the application might get back in time to attend the funeral, but never to do these men any good." I immediately went to the headquarters of the brigade commandant; he examined carefully the application, wanted to know the urgency of the matter, and after I had explained to him all I could, and after I had urged everything I could think of that I thought would help the case of the sick men, he coolly took the application from my hands, indorsed it "disallowed," and ordered me to my regiment, saying, "we are not granting furloughs on the eve of starting on a campaign."
I was somewhat disheartened, but not altogether discouraged. I immediately repaired to General Palmer's headquarters, who commanded the division. The general treated me with great politeness, heard all I had to say, and then informed me that no furloughs were being granted; said "he would excuse me for bringing up the application without leave," kindly ordered me to my regiment, and advised me "give up the enterprise, if I wished to save myself from the disgrace of a court-martial," which, as we soldiers all know, is a court organized to convict.
I then turned my steps toward the headquarters of General Crittenden, commanding our corps; he treated me with great brusqueness, not only refusing the indorsement I so much desired, but severely censured me for not sending the application through the regular channel. He gave me the usual complimental (?) order, "Immediately repair to your regiment, sir!" I was "cast down, but not destroyed;" I had just one ground of hope left me, and that was centered in "Old Pap Thomas."
These various headquarters that I had visited were all situated at or near Manchester, and I applied to them all the same day; but the headquarters of General Thomas was at Winchester, more than sixty miles from our camp. The point now was how to get to Winchester? I went to the colonel and applied for a pass for that place, which, luckily for my purpose, he granted me without asking me what I wanted it for. We had a train down in the morning and back at night; so the next morning, armed with my pass and my badly disallowed application in my pocket, I took the train for Winchester. With my heart away up in my thorax, I approached the headquarters of the old general. I was compelled to wait a long time, it seemed to me, to obtain an interview with him; he received me very gravely, yet kindly, and carefully listened to all I had to say; he wanted to know "if the men would be able to go home if the furlough should be granted?" I insisted they would if granted immediately, and that must be my excuse for not sending the application through the regular channel. I urged upon the general the fact that so many of our men were dying in the hospitals of that terrible disease. The old iron-faced general turned to a member of his staff that was at a table writing and told him to indorse the application allowed. I then asked the general if he would indorse on the same, leave for me to take it in person to General Rosecrans. This he most cheerfully did, and General Rosecrans issued the furloughs without another word of explanation.
ADJUTANT SHERBURN B. EATON.
The next morning the sick boys were taken to the train, and started for Ohio. In sixty days two of them returned for duty, were in every battle of the regiment, and were honorably discharged. The other was discharged for disability. One of them, after the war, made himself a home in California, the other I meet often, but I never see him but I think how much he owes to that noble "Old Pap Thomas."
In a few days after we were ordered to get ready to march, and the first day brought us to a beautiful mountain river, on the banks of which we went into camp, near a small quaker village called Irvingville, I think. The next morning we had to ford the river, which was cold and in some places quite deep. This brought us to the first range of the Cumberland mountains. Our regiment was detailed to assist the wagon train up the steep mountain road, which duty occupied our attention the greater part of the day. That night we encamped on the mountain, and enjoyed a most refreshing sleep in the cool invigorating mountain air. The next day we marched down off from this ridge into the Sequatchie valley. This valley is some mile or more, perhaps, in width and runs down to Chattanooga, and we entered it some six or eight miles from its head. Through this valley runs a pure cold stream of water—a thing always prized by an army or camping party.