I was now entered, not “professionally,” however, in that horrid prison, the Old Medical College, and was confined there about one week. I was then transferred, with, perhaps, one hundred other prisoners of war (one of them Dr. Hobson, afterward our brigade chaplain), to Camp Chase, Ohio, by way of Indianapolis, when one-half of our party was sent to Camp Norton, Dr. Hobson included. We remained in Camp Chase nearly two weeks, where I wrote you, if you remember; then, on the 26th of August we started for exchange, by way of Cincinnati to Cairo. At Cairo the prisoners embarked on a fleet of eight or ten transports that was to carry them down the Mississippi River. We were escorted by two ironsides and a heavy guard, all of which was quite unnecessary, for we were most anxious to get to Dixie, and for her “to live and die.”
Before reaching that place of “world-wide fame,” Vicksburg, many of the boys died, and a large number, myself among them, became sick, an illness caused by the crowded boat, the inferior rations, and drinking the river water. When we reached Vicksburg we received a hearty reception from our troops and from the inhabitants. It was even then a place of interest, for before the war it possessed much that was attractive; but since it has become notorious for its heroic defense, before which Grant’s heroic columns melted like snow, it is singularly interesting. Well, transportation to Jackson, Mississippi, was immediately furnished us, and when we arrived there we were ordered by General Lloyd Tilghman, commander of the post, into a camp of instruction until further orders.
I met here my old friend of civil engineer notoriety, John W. Hayden, belonging now to the Confederate Engineering Corps, with the rank of colonel. He and the General urged and insisted that I should receive, or rather accept an appointment in the same corps. Colonel Hayden said that he was very much surprised to find me in the cavalry service, and more surprised that I had been following the daring and dashing horseman, John Morgan, when men of my profession were needed to engage in the very fascinating work of the Engineer Corps of the Confederates States. They both pressed me to accept a position; but I loved my old Commander too well, and the service in which he had enlisted too much, to think of leaving him. So I could but decline respectfully; which I did. And yet I believe I have since almost regretted that I then rejected a post of such advantage, for of advantage it certainly would have been in the days to come.
After a short stay in Jackson, and on the arrival of General Breckinridge’s forces from Baton Rouge, in which we were glad to find the old Kentucky Infantry Brigade, we started under General Breckinridge for Knoxville, Tennessee, by way of Mobile, Atlanta and Chattanooga. We reached Knoxville about the first of October. We were then mounted, and, under the immediate command of Lieut. Col. Bob Wood, of Mississippi, we started for Kentucky to join General Bragg.
After two days’ march toward Cumberland Gap we met Bragg’s advance, under General Kirby Smith, which caused a retrograde movement of the forces under General Breckinridge. On our return to Knoxville, where I met C. A. P., Col. St. Leger Grenville, Morgan’s Adjutant-General, and Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman of the Third Kentucky Cavalry, now took command of our detachment, by order of General Morgan, and we began our march across the Cumberland Mountains to join our command, now a brigade, at Black’s Shop. This position was eight miles in advance of Murfreesboro, on the pike leading from that place to Lebanon, and on the extreme right of our main army, under General Bragg, who had taken position there, while the enemy, then under Rosecrans, were stationed at Nashville.
We reached the command and reported to the General about the last of October, after a very interesting march over a country possessing romantic and picturesque scenery. All hearts were gladdened by the warm and hearty reception we received from the boys. The General, accompanied by his orderlies, came to our camp to see us just as soon as he heard of our arrival. Never did a mother receive her foundlings more fondly than did our glorious commander. Long shall we remember that meeting!
Knowing the fondness of the old squadron boys for each other, and for himself, General Morgan now proposed that they should be consolidated and organized into one select company, to act as scouts, subject to his personal command and direction. A few days after, accordingly, an order appeared to that effect.
All were highly pleased with this arrangement, and, as proof of it, scarce one day elapsed before all had rallied at the scouts’ encampment. The feasting was enjoyed for several days, and I imagine that the neighboring barn-yards suffered a good deal. Of the A, B, and C boys, some had been promoted, and others were promoted immediately upon our arrival. Yet the majority of those whom the General wanted to advance respectfully declined to accept appointments in “strange” companies, so much were they attached to each other. Our term of enlistment had expired, but no one mentioned it to the General, nor thought of quitting so long as the object for which they enlisted had not been attained. Neither did they re-enlist, but served faithfully to the bitter end.
With the exception of those promoted, there were only eighty of the original members to be found after twelve months’ service, and there had been nearly three hundred at first. War, death, and sickness had thinned their numbers, so that now there were, upon terra firma, to answer to roll call, scarcely one-third their original number. The others—the most of them—had answered their last roll call, “the soldier’s last tattoo.” It was oftentimes painful and sad to lose such brave and dear companions, yet when I think of our misfortunes, as I often do, I almost wish that I, too, were one of “the departed heroes.”
At the time of the formation of our company, called “Morgan’s Scouts,” we were poorly mounted, our war steeds being old veterans that had seen hard service, and, because of their indisposition, had been turned over to the quartermaster’s department at Knoxville, from whom we drew them. The members of the Scouts, as they knew General Morgan personally and were quite frank with him, complained at every interview of their sorry horses. The General’s reply always was, “You’ll have better ones in a short time.” How he got those “better ones” will be related hereafter.