The General and Lieut.-Col. Martin of the Tenth Regiment were the last to leave town. Passing down one street the Yankees tried hard to intercept them; as it was, they met the head of the Yankee column, into which they emptied two rounds from their pistols, unhorsing two of them. At the same moment Colonel Martin was shot through and through, near the center of his breast. However, he paid little attention to his wound, for he joined his regiment that evening, ten miles distant.
With these and many more of such adventures the winter wore away, and spring, “more sweet, more gay,” returned. The General’s brother, Maj. R. C. Morgan, late of A. P. Hill’s staff, was ordered to take command of a regiment under General Morgan, which was then forming, and which was afterward called the Fourteenth Kentucky Cavalry. The scouts, by order of the General, reported to the then Colonel, as our chief said “only temporarily,” but we never left him until captured. Our letter in the Fourteenth was B, and we were the Colonel’s pets. At the time we were attached to the regiment it was encamped on Oby River, not far from the State line, and about ten miles from the town of Burksville, Kentucky.
There were several new companies in our regiment whose officers knew very little about military tactics. Company B, because of its long experience, was styled “Veterans.” We were required by the Colonel to drill these new companies, which was done daily for several weeks in succession. The sergeants of Company B were oftentimes in command of the battalion on drill; others drilled companies, our corporals commanded platoons, and privates were in charge of sections, with their own company officers in the ranks learning the arts of war, alongside of their own men. I am pretty sure they will never forget the three drills daily during our days of instruction. Company B certainly impressed them with the belief that they were not only veterans, but men of energy and of “long wind.” When they had received their education and their “sheepskins” in proof our attention was called in other directions.
Scouting again became our duty, very often making short raids into Kentucky, and patroling the Cumberland generally. I will give you only one of our many expeditions, and that because you will probably take more interest in it, a near relative of your family having been in command.
A great many scouting parties had been detached to Albany so frequently that it had become a disagreeable duty, the instructions given them being nearly the same every time. When the time arrived for Company B to go on duty it happened that the Albany scout was again the order of the day. The instructions on reporting at headquarters were not only short, but simple and easily understood. They were, “Proceed to Albany with thirty men, and find out where the enemy is.”
Determined to do so, we filed out on the Albany road, but not before Captain “Tom” remarked, “I hope that you will make the necessary discoveries, for not until then will these long marches cease.”
Vowing that we would never return save with the intelligence required, we galloped off. Crossing the Oby and Wolf rivers we commenced to ascend the hills beyond, in the severest fall of rain that man ever witnessed, which continued till dark, and when the detachment was within four miles of Albany. The water ran down the sides of the mountain in torrents, and it was with great difficulty that we ascended. Our horses could scarcely keep their feet with such a fall of water against them.
Halting two miles from town and leaving all but three men and a guide to await our return, we entered with caution the county-seat of Clinton County. Not a light was visible to cheer the wanderers, and all was still as death. The noise made by the clattering of our horses’ feet sounded hollow and “passing strange.” It seemed as if we were hundreds of feet below terra firma, passing through and exploring some subterranean village. Well might it have been appropriately called “the Deserted Village,” from its gloomy, desolate, and extremely sad appearance.
After an interview with an old Southerner living near the town, who had nothing reliable to communicate, and finding no enemy, we returned to the place where the rest of the scouts had been left. Having previously decided to send all of the men with the exception of six and the guide to camp under the charge of a sergeant, we selected the best scouts and horses.
Returning again to Albany, we took the Monticello road, with the full and express determination to find the enemy if there was any on top of the ground. When daylight appeared we had far advanced into Wayne County, over which the notorious Yankee bushwhacker, “Tinker Dave Beatty,” ruled with an iron will. Although the actions of some of the inhabitants looked very suspicious, yet our little band advanced without any interruption, but on the alert.