Observations of an Illinois Boy in Battle, Camp and Prisons—1861 to 1865

by Henry Harrison Eby

He was a good boy and loved by all. On the day that the remains of Buchan were found and buried by the Co. C boys, many sad scenes were discovered by them on the battlefield of Chickamauga, which battle was fought two months previous. The marks of the fearful strife were yet visible. Here and there were lines of hastily-constructed defenses, the ground was strewn with knapsacks, fragments of harness, haversacks, canteens, pieces of clothing, tin plates, bullet-pierced, round shot and unexploded shell. And there were also found straps, cartridge boxes, old socks, old shoes, letters rotting on the decaying bodies of once brave soldiers, all sad signs and telling their silent story of the great fight at Chickamauga. What a crowd of sorrowful memories! Where is the soldier who wore that belt? Where the one who wore those shoes? Is he cold in death? If so what eyes have been dimmed with tears at his sad fate? What hopes have been destroyed, what affections crushed, what hearts wrung with anguish never more to brighten? But sadder sights than the above were discovered by our boys as they moved over the battlefield. The unburied remains of hundreds of Union soldiers lay full length here and there, and again some had been partly buried, and others so slightly covered with earth that they were rooted out by the swine and lay scattered about in promiscuous heaps. And another sight was beheld. A deep well was discovered, filled to the surface with Union soldiers. Fellow citizens, do we appreciate what we enjoy, which has been secured by such sacrifices?

William Buchan’s Grave.

Soon after the time that Buchan was killed by the enemy’s shot I was inside of the line of the Confederate army looking for a place to escape. Sept. 20, 1863, was a day which will remain fresh in my memory as long as I live, on account of its terrible battles, the loss of William Buchan and many others, and myself being made a prisoner of war. The battle in our front began in the morning about nine o’clock, and raged fiercely at intervals during nearly the whole day and along Snodgrass Hill until after dark. The Confederates charged Palmer’s front repeatedly, but were as often repulsed. Some parts of the Union lines were broken by the enemy during the day and our prospects for success appeared rather discouraging.

On one occasion during the forenoon, when the Confederates charged on Palmer’s and Baird’s positions, they approached so near that those in advance came inside of our temporary defenses and were made prisoners. I well remember seeing them after their surrender.

Chickamauga Map.

The Confederate loss in our front was fearful, because whenever they came in sight our artillery poured forth grape and canister, which literally mowed swaths through their ranks. And if they approached within rifle or musket range, a dazzling sheet of flame would burst forth from our long lines of infantry.

This each time compelled them to fall back in disorder. During the day, while Gen. Palmer and myself were riding from one part of the line to another, his horse was struck just over one eye by a bullet, which stunned him and he fell to the ground. The General, being in a hurry to reach another part of our line, asked me to let him ride my horse, to which I consented and remained with his, which soon recovered, regained his feet, and apparently was all right again. The General returned and gave me my horse, and we mounted and rode away to another part of the line, where he wished to give some directions. We remained here for some time to watch the progress of the next attack, which was looked for soon to come. The infantry were lying behind their low breastworks, and the gunners of the artillery were alert near their guns awaiting the attack. The General had just dismounted in rear of the line of battle, and I was on my horse near by waiting for orders, when the enemy made another terrific movement on our line. Immediately our artillery bellowed with a deafening roar, sending forth its terrible missiles of destruction among the enemy, who when coming within rifle range received also the fire from our infantry, from whose long lines burst forth a sheet of flame; and the Confederates were repulsed with heavy loss. Their bullets came over at a fearful rate; at times it seemed as though they came as thick as if one would take a handful of shelled corn and scatter it broadcast. The roar of firearms from friend and foe was deafening, and it seemed as if the earth trembled beneath our feet.

The General was standing, talking to some of the officers. He turned toward me, saying: “Eby, you should not expose yourself unnecessarily. You would better dismount and step behind a tree while you are waiting for orders.” I immediately obeyed the General’s suggestion with a good will. It was now some time after noon, but we had not stopped for dinner, as there seemed to be some objections on the other side. The firing in our front ceased at times, but we could hear the incessant roar of musketry and artillery off at our right and rear, we being on the left. It seemed to move off farther and farther, until it sounded as though it were a mile away. Then in a few moments it would begin again nearer to us, and again roll off gradually in the distance. And now after these forty-five years of time have passed when I think about it I imagine that I can hear that same roar of firearms.