“Brig.-Gen. Thompson.
“In accordance with orders heretofore published of the Major-Gen. Commanding Dept. of Cumberland, Champ Fergusson and his gang of cut-throats having refused to surrender, are denounced as outlaws, and the military forces of this district will deal with and treat him accordingly.
“By Command of Major-Gen. Rousseau,
“(Signed) H. C. Whitlemore,
“Capt. and A.A.A.G.”
This, of course, meant sudden death to any of the band who might come within range of our rifles. The men, indeed, were nothing less than murderers and robbers, carrying on their devilish work under the plea of fighting for Southern independence. It was not long before an opportunity was afforded me of coming in contact with a specimen of the class, and it is on this meeting that one of my anecdotes will turn.
A few days after, when riding ahead of my troop, in company with a couple of my men, in order to “prospect” the country, with a view to finding suitable accommodation for our wants, I came to a well-built farmhouse a few miles from the Duck River. As we approached the front, my attention was attracted by an armed man, in the well-known butter-nut grey uniform of the enemy, escaping from the back in a very hasty and suspicious manner. Reading his true character in a moment, I shouted to him to halt, at the same time directing my troopers to “head him off” right and left. Disregarding our cries, he started off in hot haste, while we pursued him in equally hurried fashion. The chase was a hard and a stern one, his flight being only broken for a moment to allow of his discharging his carbine at me. Not desiring to kill him, I saved my powder, and in the end ran him to earth, and stunned him with a blow from the butt-end of my revolver.
When my companions arrived, we proceeded to examine our prisoner, and found, on stripping him of his grey covering, that underneath he wore the unmistakable blue coat of our own regiment, with the plain indication of a corporal’s stripes having been torn therefrom. As we had a few days previously discovered the stripped, bullet-riddled body of a brave corporal of ours, who had been murdered by some of these scoundrels, we at once concluded that this was one of his assassins, and my troop, coming up at this point, dealt him scant mercy, and filled his body with their bullets ere consciousness returned. A search of his pockets revealed his identity, his pocket-book containing some two hundred dollars in bills, and an oath of allegiance to the U.S. Government, which he had doubtless used many times to save his wretched life. The following is a facsimile of the original document, which I have kept through all these years—the stains being those of the man’s blood:—
Making our way back to the house, we discovered two weeping women, and half-a-dozen small children. A single question elicited the fact that the elder of the two was the mother, while subsequent inquiries proved that the dead man was the notorious William M. Guin, a nephew of ex-U.S. Senator Guin, of California, and one of the leaders of as notorious a gang of cut-throats as ever operated in the South-West. Our custom was to burn the houses of any persons found harbouring these guerillas, but the heartrending entreaties of the wretched women and children caused me to leave them unmolested. Some time afterwards, when peace was finally declared, I was quartered at Waverley, in the same vicinity, and often met the unfortunate mother, who knew me as “the man who killed her boy,” though, as she told me, she never blamed me, having often warned her son that he would come to a bad end.
And now for the other side of the picture. During these operations, my men were principally mounted on horses captured from the citizens, who were invariably rebels; and as our habit was to take every available animal when found, the methods adopted to hide them in caves, ravines, and swamps were sometimes very remarkable. Upon one of my expeditions at the time, in the direction of Vernon, on the Duck River, I came across a fine black horse, which I speedily confiscated to the use of “Uncle Sam.” My prize, however, did not long remain in my possession, for in a few days my quarters were invaded by a deputation of the fair sex, who presented me with the following amusing appeal:—