At dark we mounted, and were soon on our way to Burksville, on the Cumberland River. This was the last night of the year 1862. Many incidents occurred to remind me of the fact, but they were so numerous that I have not the patience to pen them. It was one of the severest nights we had marched. Ten miles from Burksville we descended into a pleasant valley, through which runs a beautiful creek. The creek was frozen hard. There were many handsome farms and farmhouses along this stream, and most of these were brilliantly lighted up when we passed them, though it was past midnight. But when we remember the people were sitting up to give the New Year a fitting reception, it was not strange.
We found as many as four houses in which the young people had collected to “trip the light fantastic,” and neither the night nor the command will ever be effaced from the memory of those same young people. For, fortunately for the scouts, and unfortunately for those attending the parties, “ladies not excepted,” the horses which had carried them to the party carried many of the boys away. Such a temptation could not be resisted by the scouts, especially as the horses were in such good position for leading off.
Was it not almost a “blot” upon the characters of the bold cavaliers, their leaving the young ladies to “foot it home” next morning? It may have been, but as “our” now excellent President so often says, “Not if we know ourselves, and we think we do.” I may mention, by way of apology, perhaps, that the next day we would be in Tennessee, and hence in our own lines, and such acts would not be permitted by the Confederate States. Besides that, when we started on this raid thirteen of our company had been left behind because they were not mounted, and they had our promises that we would bring each a “charger.”
Very many were the complaints made to the General, when he passed half an hour later, concerning the horses. He told the ladies, who insisted that their horses must have been taken by some of his men, that if his scouts had really taken their fine riding-horses he would have every one of the men shot without the benefit of a court-martial. It seemed as if many of the ladies believed the General was in earnest, for they, the tenderhearted, afterward begged him to spare our lives, but please send their riding-horses. This he promised to do, I have no doubt.
On the General’s reaching the town, about 4 o’clock in the morning, he found us in quiet possession. We had taken it without a struggle at 3 o’clock, when we commenced to cross the river, on our way to Livingston, Kentucky. Nothing of interest happened during the march. The excitement of the raid was fast expiring, and the boys were nodding as they rode along. Tired nature must have rest, and nature certainly had been severely tested during the past two weeks.
Livingston was gained before dark, and, passing through the town, we camped several miles on the road leading to Smithville, which town was reached, without excitement, on the succeeding day. Remaining near the town over night, the scouts received orders the following morning to march to Liberty, a distance of fifteen miles, which place we reached on the 7th of January, and we remained there, on outpost duty, until April.
During this period, from January 7th to the first of April, we had, for the better part of the time, no support nearer than McMinnville, thirty miles distant, where the General had his headquarters, with a part of his command camped near him, the most of it being stationed at Woodbury and Readyville, and on the enemy’s left flank. For the enemy was in possession of Murfreesboro, and “Old Rosey” was in command there. Our company was on his left, and something like twenty miles from Murfreesboro. General Bragg’s forces were in Tullahoma.
The stirring incidents, daring scouts, hot skirmishes, and spirited engagements in which we took part during the winter cannot be related, as I would desire, on account of space. But I will mention a few.
Seldom, if ever, were we idle while our camp was in Liberty. The field which the General had intrusted to our surveillance was so extensive as to keep us almost constantly in the saddle. We watched the movements of the enemy night and day, and we skirmished with him daily, sometimes near Murfreesboro, or near Lavergne, Nashville, and in the vicinity of Gallatin, Huntsville, Carthage, and Lebanon. This was a mammoth undertaking for one company, yet we succeeded in gaining the approbation of our General.
By our vigilance, our daring scouts and rapid movements, we kept the General thoroughly posted as to the whereabouts of the enemy. Very often the report would reach him, “The scouts are cut off!” but he would always reply, “They will cut on again!” Such a thing had so often happened without our failing to report, or without in any way causing us to be detained, that he had no fears as to our success, and our safe return at the proper time, together with all the necessary intelligence. It did not matter how severe the struggle, how long it lasted, or how desperately it was contested, it was called then, and it will be called in the written history of the great struggle, “only a skirmish.” Yet in no part of the service is daring gallantry and real pluck better illustrated than in these hand-to-hand encounters. There is in them a greater display of courage than there is in a general engagement.