The actions of one of the boys strangely and particularly impressed me. A few days before the regiment that we were so hotly pressing had captured and killed this scout’s brother. Learning this when pursuing, he was one of the first among them, firing right and left, oftentimes when his navy was against “his man,” five of whom felt the effects, while the tears were streaming down his cheeks. I could not help thinking, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.”
When the enemy realized the smallness of the force that was chasing them, they halted in a strong position and showed fight; but our General, who seemed more like our gallant Captain of old than he had for some time, was too shrewd for them. Quickly detaching a single scout around to their left flank secretly, with orders to fire his gun and navies in rapid succession into their line, proved, much to our amusement, to have the desired effect. Back they flew again, using their rowels as vigorously as before. But we were soon in their rear, making good use of time and pistols. Sabres were useless ornaments in our service. The trooper that attempted to carry one would be forever after a laughing stock for the entire command.
All of the twenty were ahead of the General, who was on his favorite “Glencoe,” with hat in hand, cheering the boys with “Charge them, boys; charge them!”—and right handsomely did they execute his orders.
Yet, on flew the Yankees, and after them went the twenty, in a dense cloud of dust, never halting until we had chased the Yankee cavalry through a brigade of their own infantry then in line of battle and supported by artillery, which the immense cloud of dust prevented us from seeing. We charged them so near that they were afraid of opening on us for fear of doing injury to their own troops.
One of the boys, riding near the General, saw the line first, and caught the reins of the General’s horse, stopping him instantly. At the same moment a line of bristling bayonets were pointed out to the General. All saw it, and quickly wheeling our horses, with spurs in flanks, went out in true Indian style, lying flat on our horses, perhaps a little under.
When we had cleared the line so they could open fire, and not fire into their own line, the whole line poured a volley at short range right into us. But “fortune,” they say, “favors the brave.” Only one man received a wound, Captain Tom of Company B, whose rein arm was broken, and who was afterward, much to his regret, left at Burksville. With this exception we got back to town safely.
At an early hour in the morning of the 3d, we were again in the saddle, en route to Columbia, Col. R. C. Morgan’s regiment, the Fourteenth, in advance. This honor the General entrusted to our charge to be kept untarnished. How well the Fourteenth succeeded had best be told by others than myself. My object is to tell you “some” of the events that occurred.
The column passed up the same valley through which we marched the first of the year on our return after the Christmas raid, when a large number of horses disappeared, and the General promised the ladies that he would hang and shoot every one of his scouts, without a court martial, etc., for such uncourtly, ungallant, and unsoldierly actions toward “good Union people.” It afforded the members of Company B much sport as they rode by these places of interest.
Gaining the upland, the command halted long enough for the regimental commanders to read “special orders,” which were to govern the troops during the march.
The advance moved on to Columbia about noon, where we found a squadron of the First Kentucky Yankee Cavalry in possession of the town. Driving their pickets in we advanced to the edge of the town, where we rode into line and dismounted to fight.