“With a little more drill you are the equals of the old guard of Napoleon.”—General Albert Sidney Johnston. “I always feel safe when the Rangers are in front.”—General Wm. J. Hardee. “There is no danger of a surprise when the Rangers are between us and the enemy.”—General Braxton Bragg. “The Terry Rangers have done all that could be expected or required of soldiers.”—Jefferson Davis.
While camped in the Fair Grounds, the citizens of Nashville, largely ladies, came rolling in, in carriages and buggies; all anxious to see the Texas Rangers, about whom history had written so much about their fearlessness and being great riders. Colonel Terry called on not a few of our men to ride horses that were taken out of buggies and carriages, for the purpose of showing their horsemanship—the most popular feature being a deposit of gold coins on the ground, the rider to run at full speed, stooping down and picking them up. This extraordinary feat, in connection with their general appearance; being armed with shotguns, six-shooters and Bowie knives, seemed to sustain their idea of the Texas Rangers that fought at the Alamo, Goliad and San Jacinto and served under Jack Hayes, Ben McCollough and other Indian and Mexican fighters. The regular army equipment for cavalry was the saber, the carbine and six-shooter. This difference in equipment alone indicated that the Texas Ranger expected and would fight only in close quarters. After a pleasant stay at Nashville of nearly two weeks, we were ordered to go by rail to Bowling Green, Kentucky, where we found an army of infantry and artillery and three regiments of cavalry. Here we drew our horses by lot and it was my good fortune to draw first choice out of about a thousand horses tied to a picket rope. When all were ready to make their selection I was directed to where these horses were tied and ordered to make my selection, which I was not permitted to do with any degree of deliberation. Having about a thousand men waiting on me, all anxious to make their selection, a comrade, seeing I was confused and embarrassed, offered to exchange his thirty-second choice for my choice, paying me a liberal bonus. I was glad to accept it, mainly to get time to look around among the rest of the horses, believing I would stand a better chance to get a good mount. I had got short of money by that time, as we paid our own expenses, except transportation, and this comrade was glad to pay me for my first choice. We had no time to take out a horse and try his gaits, and it proved largely guesswork in the selection of the horses. The best gait for cavalry service is a long swinging walk and fox trot; unfortunately my thirty-second choice proved a pacer.
After drawing our horses and preparing everything ready for active service, the regiment under Colonel Terry was ordered on a scout to Glasgow, Kentucky, where we were kindly received by its citizens and took up our quarters at the Fair Grounds. Here the regiment spent several days pleasantly, feasting on the good things brought in by the ladies of the town.
The second day Colonel Terry ordered Captain Ferrell, with his company and Company B, of which I was a member, to the little town of Edmonton, Kentucky, where it was reported a part of a regiment of Federal cavalry were quartered.
We started at night, which proved to be one of the coldest we had ever been out in, riding all night. When nearly daylight, we reached the suburbs of the town. I was riding a very spirited and nervous horse, which refused to be quieted, while riding in line. In order to keep him quiet, I had loosened the strap on his curb, which proved to be a mistake. Nearing the town, the order came down the line “Silence in ranks,” and soon my horse got to prancing. I jerked him by the reins, throwing him on his haunches, when the hammer of my shotgun struck the horn of the saddle and fired off my gun, which raised the alarm in town. Immediately the order was given “Form fours; Charge!” which excited my horse to such an extent that he broke ranks and flew up the line to the front. Carrying my shotgun in my right hand, I was unable to check him without the curb and he ran away with me, carrying me up into the town on the square, about three hundred yards in advance of my command, where I succeeded in checking him. For this I was reprimanded by Captain Ferrell, who would not receive my explanation that the horse ran away with me and claimed that I was too anxious to get there first.
Had the garrison not received information that we were moving on them for an attack and left during the night for Mumfordsville, instead of occupying the town as we expected, I no doubt would have been killed in this, our first charge.
Captain Ferrell had orders from General Johnston to try to capture a spy by the name of Burrell, who was making this town his headquarters and who always stopped at the hotel. As soon as we entered the square we were ordered to surround the hotel, which was done promptly. Captain Ferrell then called the proprietor to the door, told him to tell the ladies in the house to rise and dress, as he would have to search the house for Burrell. The hotel man said that Burrell was there the evening before, but left for Mumfordsville and was certainly not in the house. Captain Ferrell told him that it made no difference, but to hurry up, he was going to search the house.
The house was partly a two-story building, which had been added to the gable end of the one-story building and the stair landing, built against the gable of a one-story house, with a solid wood shutter covering, and opening into the attic of the one-story building. The ladies took their own time about getting ready for our search, perhaps nearly an hour; some of them in the meantime coming to the door and repeating the proprietor’s statement—that Burrell had left the evening before. When they announced ready, I being near the door, dashed in ahead of all the rest and up the stairs, when I discovered the wooden shutter, which I jerked open, peering into the dark attic. Daylight had now fairly lit up the surroundings and I discovered, through the light of the cracked shingles, what I took to be a bundle of clothing at the far end, under the corner of the roof. I cocked both barrels of my gun and called out, “Come out; I see you; I’ll shoot if you don’t.” He answered, “Don’t shoot.” If he had not answered I, no doubt, would have concluded, and perhaps others that followed me, too, that it was an old bundle of plunder. Proceeding down stairs with the prisoner, Burrell, who proved to be quite an intelligent and good-looking gentleman, I carried him into the parlor, where the ladies had congregated. They were all in tears, with some of our boys laughing at them and telling them they were story tellers.
Captain Ferrell, immediately on entering the square, detailed two men for each road leading into the town, to picket these roads about one-half mile from town. We built log fires on the square to keep us warm during the day until about three o’clock in the evening. A citizen then came in and, in an excited manner, told Captain Ferrell that a large cavalry force was moving in between us and Glasgow, with a view of cutting us off from our main command. The pickets arrested everybody coming into town and by three o’clock we had about fifteen or twenty prisoners, including some four or five Federal soldiers, who rode in on them, thinking the town was still occupied by Federal troops. On receiving information about this large cavalry force moving on a road between us and Glasgow, Captain Ferrell gave the order to mount and form fours, selecting what prisoners (about seven or eight, including Burrell) and the soldiers, to take with us, and turning the balance of them loose. He then placed me in charge of the prisoners, with four others to help guard them. We then commenced our retreat to Glasgow. When about three miles from town, another citizen dashed up to Captain Ferrell, who rode in advance of the column, and reported the same large cavalry force occupying our road some few miles ahead of us. Captain Ferrell, who, by the way, was an old frontiersman, Indian and Mexican fighter, dropped back and ordered me to tie Burrell’s ankles together, under the horse’s body and if we got into a fight and he attempted to escape, to not fail to kill him the first one. I don’t think I ever did anything during the war that I hated as bad as I did to tie this man’s ankles under the horse, but it was my orders from a man I knew would not permit any plea for its modification, and I had to obey.
After riding about eight or ten miles, in this way, feeling sorry for Burrell in his pitiful plight, I couldn’t stand it any longer and told him if he would promise me he would not make a break when the guns opened, that I would unloose the ropes and free his legs, for which he thanked me. Then I told him to be careful and carry out his promise, for if he did attempt a break, I would surely shoot him.