While at Bardstown, General Bragg, finding that the real object of his campaign was a failure, decided to turn it into a raid; to collect valuable stores and move out again, through Cumberland Gap.
When Colonel Wharton took command of the brigade, succeeding General Forrest, General Wheeler with another brigade occupied the Taylorsville Pike, both brigades holding the enemy in check in their advance as best they could. Our little force at Taylorsville was drawn over to the Bardstown and Louisville Pike, where they met the balance of the brigade at Mount Washington. While at Mount Washington, drawn up in line, eating our lunch, a large force of Federal cavalry made a dash on us but were soon repulsed and driven back. In this engagement a messmate of mine, Roland Chatham, received a pistol ball right in the center of his forehead, just over the eyes, the ball penetrating his skull and burying itself in the brain. This however, did not knock him off his horse and he remained with us until after the enemy was driven back. Passing to the rear with his wound bleeding, he was noticed by some ladies in Mount Washington, displaying his pistol, when they were heard to remark, “Just look at that poor Texas Ranger; shot through the head and still he wants to fight.” In this connection I would state that Chatham was sent to the hospital and finally to Texas, never having been completely disabled on account of this wound, and with this ball imbedded in the brain, lived to a good old age, dying only a few years ago at Bryan, Texas, where he raised a large family. Here he started and operated a cotton gin manufactory, which proved a great success and enabled him to amass a considerable fortune. During all his lifetime his wound remained open but never affected his mind. This was, perhaps, one of the most remarkable cases on record.
The Federal advance through Mount Washington and Taylorsville continued daily as soon as it was light enough to discern anything. The enemy’s skirmishers would advance and, supported by their line of battle and artillery, would drive us from positions we had taken up. We would then fall back to another good position, perhaps a mile, and defend that as best we could, again to be driven from it in the same manner. I forgot to mention we had with us in this brigade, the First and Second Georgia and the Tennessee Battalion, under Colonel Baxter Smith, who is still living at Nashville, Tennessee.
When within nine miles of Bardstown, one morning (dark and drizzling rain) the enemy failed to make its appearance at daylight. Waiting until about nine o’clock, Colonel Wharton got suspicious, and sent a scout in our rear, who struck a large cavalry force of the enemy of about eight regiments, occupying the pike near the Fair Grounds. Returning, full speed, the scout reported to Colonel Wharton this condition. Immediately placing himself at the head of our regiment, drawn up immediately across the pike, Colonel Wharton sent couriers to the balance of our regiment and to a section of little brass six-pounders (originally the property of the Arkansas Military Institute) commanded by Captain Pugh of our regiment, a western Texas cowman, instructing them to come on and catch up with our regiment as fast as they could. Wharton at the head of the regiment in column of fours, struck a lope and soon arrived in sight of this body of the enemy’s cavalry. He then ordered a charge and when at a junction of a dirt road with the pike, about two companies of this cavalry formed in an orchard behind a rail picket fence, which are rails stuck in the ground, picket fashion, and fired on our flank point blank. About thirty or forty of us turned on them, halting in front of this picket fence with our bridle reins thrown over the horns of our saddles, and with a six-shooter in each hand, began to empty saddles. This caused them to break and enter a lane in their rear, having already let down the fence to provide for such an emergency, and fled up the lane in a northerly direction from whence they had come. Colonel Wharton with the balance of the regiment dashed into the solid body of the enemy in his front and scattered them. It soon developed that they were panic stricken and were driven over the open country, interspersed only by rail and rock fences, in detached bodies of twenty and fifty, and so on, by only a few Rangers, driving them like cattle on the prairies. Here was one of the most brilliant cavalry engagements we were ever in and resulted in our capturing a great many prisoners.
When the regiment passed through Bardstown somewhat hurriedly, passing by the Newman residence, Miss Josie Newman, who was standing at the gate, watching them go by, saw a Major Jared Gross, a former acquaintance, loping up the column. She recognized him, clapping her hands and calling out, “Good-bye, Jared; I’m glad to see you running,” when the next moment she recognized a Federal, Major Watts, riding behind one of our boys, a prisoner, his face badly bruised and his clothes torn and soiled, having had his horse killed under him. This sight immediately brought her tears and she went back into the house, crying. She was a kind hearted, good young lady, full of spirit in her Union sentiment.
Now, to go back to the party of Federals in the orchard, fleeing up the lane from the direction whence they came: Captain Mark Evans, commanding one of our Western companies, and I, were the first ones to enter the lane and drive these fellows. We were followed by quite a number of others, who stopped at the fence with us when first fired into. In running up the lane we ran over a number of six-shooters and belts with sabre and six-shooters attached. The six-shooter was always a valuable capture for us, as we could readily sell it to men in the army who had money, which we were always in need of, and although we were virtually maintaining ourselves without the aid of the Government, we could not afford to stop and pick up these pistols, as everything depended on crowding these Federals, who outnumbered us at least ten to one; but, as before stated, they were panic stricken, which sometimes happened to the best of troops.
After passing about a mile up this lane, I noticed a very fine pistol. I recognized it as a Tranter, an English pistol, self-cocking, of which Colonel Terry had four, and I was always anxious to secure a pair of them. My first impulse was to stop and get this pistol; then again concluded not to stop, as so much depended on our crowding them, but, after passing it perhaps thirty or forty yards, I decided I would go back and pick it up, anyway. For this purpose, I wheeled and as my horse’s position was across the lane, in turning, one of our men just behind me, struck my horse’s neck and broke the headstall of my bridle, dropping the bit out of the horse’s mouth. He wheeled and ran after Evans and the Federals, running faster than ever I had known him to run before, and he would soon have carried me right in among them. But, when near Evans I called to him to stop my horse; at the same time one of the Federals dismounted from his horse and surrendered. He and Evans together stopped my horse, and as there was no time for swapping bridles, I slipped over on his horse, handing him my bridle rein which was still around my horse’s neck with the bit attached; grabbing his pistol, I went on my Federal horse and told the Federal to wait and turn mine over to some of the boys behind.
Continuing up this lane we discovered a bunch of about twenty-five or thirty, some hundred and fifty yards to our right, in a field, headed by an officer riding a magnificent horse and in magnificent uniform. We soon arrived at a big gate on our right, just beyond where another fence connected with the lane fence, this fence running due east, and which this bunch of Federals had to cross. When we reached this gate Evans said to me, “Run through that gate and head off this bunch,” which I did. I forgot to mention that this party was driven by only about a half dozen of our men. After passing through the gate I stopped, took position almost immediately in front of them and when the officer got near the fence I threw my pistol down on him and demanded his surrender, to which he paid no attention, but threw off the top rail, the rider of the fence, and made his horse leap the fence, passing right in front of me, running through an orchard and I have never been able to understand how he succeeded in avoiding the limbs of the trees without butting his brains out.
When the balance of his men came up and attempted to jump the fence, the first man broke it down and furnished an easier way for the balance to cross but, being headed off by me, they were forced to take right down the fence east, followed by our boys, whom I cautioned several times to hold their fire until the Federals would bunch up. To this, however, very little attention was paid and with my additional pistol, my shots held out longer than theirs.
Now, it must be understood that having to load our pistols with loose powder from the powder flask, which had a gauge attached, then ramming down the ball with a ramrod attached to the pistol, then putting a cap on the nipple, it was necessary to stop and reload, as an attempt at reloading, running, would have spilled the powder and caused confusion; hence, one after another of our boys dropped behind to reload. This found me alone, just after the Federals and I had turned the corner of a stone fence, starting due north again. When about a hundred yards from this stone fence I fired my last shot, when one of them looked around, discovered I was by myself, called on the others to “turn on him; there is only one by himself; give him h—.” I wheeled and the Yankees wheeled. When we had run back only about fifty yards, two of our men, who I think were Geo. W. Littlefield and Beardy Miller, turned the same corner of the stone fence. When this bunch of Federals saw this, they again wheeled, running north. When Littlefield and Miller came up to where I was they said, “Come on; come on.” I said, “No, I have got to stop and load my pistol,” which I proceeded to do, they continuing after this bunch of Federals. Having about three or four chambers of my pistol filled with powder and standing about fifteen yards from the fence, seven more Federals came around the same corner of the fence, running between me and the fence, after I had drawn back my horse about ten steps, giving them more room. If I had had one load in my pistol, I would have demanded their surrender, which I believe they would have done, but they never said a word to me nor I to them, and went flying after Littlefield and Beardy Miller, who were after the first bunch.