After a stay of ten days at Somerset, during which time our base of supplies was at Stanford, thirty-three miles away, and could only be reached by our mule teams, we moved down to the Cumberland river, where we encamped on a high and precipitous bluff overlooking the river and the rugged mountainous scenery for a long distance. A brief rest and on, on we went again, bivouacking for a night on the battle-field of Mill Springs, where General Zollicoffer met his fate; climbing the mountains with our heavily laden mule teams, building bridges, constructing roads, and making but slow progress over the roughest country that I ever saw. Several of my teams were capsized and rolled down a steep embankment, mules, drivers and all; others got mired in swamps, and it was with the greatest difficulty that they were ever extricated; but we pulled ourselves along in one way and another over a distance of thirty miles of this sort of country, and finally reached Jamestown (popularly known as "Jimtown"), on the southern border of Kentucky, on the twenty-third day of June, which place proved to be the end of our journey southward.
The Thirty-second Kentucky infantry, called the "thirty two-sters," Colonel Wolford's famous cavalry regiment, six hundred strong,—the most dare-devil set of fellows, probably, in the Union service,—together with two mounted regiments of infantry, here reported to Colonel Browne and were temporarily placed under his command, and everything made ready for a brush with the rebels, which was daily expected, General Morgan being reported just in front of us with a large force. On the twenty-ninth of June our pickets were suddenly attacked and driven in by the enemy, causing the greatest excitement in camp. The long roll was instantly sounded; the men rushed to their companies with all possible speed; the regiment was formed in line of battle at a double-quick by Lieutenant Colonel Shaw, and all was ready for the fray. Company A, Captain Alexander, and Company C, Captain Allen, had been previously stationed about half a mile in front, on a road leading south towards the Cumberland river, where they had felled trees and erected a sort of rude barricade called Fort Alexander, in honor of the captain in command, which position they continued to hold.
The battery took a position on the Columbus road, on which the enemy was approaching; the other regiments were just in the rear, while Wolford's cavalry went forward on a keen run, their famous commander being at least a hundred yards in front of his men when he passed our regiment, presenting, in connection with his headlong followers, a scene of the wildest excitement. He speedily came in contact with the enemy,—whose particular object at this time was the capture of our battery,—drove them back without bringing on a general engagement, captured a score or more of prisoners, and so thoroughly routed and scattered the enemy by his bold and vigorous dash, that they made no further attempt to dispute the possession of this antiquated town with our forces until the morning of the fourth of July following.
Our quartermaster's train, however, was attacked two days later, on its way from Green river, whither it had been for supplies, by a guerrilla band of about fifty men; but as the train was guarded by a company of mounted infantry from the Seventh Ohio, the attack was repulsed after a vigorous contest, with some loss on both sides, and our provisions and quartermaster arrived in camp unharmed the next day, to the great joy of the regiment, who were nearly out of supplies.
On the third of July a battle was fought near Lebanon, which was a short distance to the north of us, between a portion of General Carter's forces and those under General Morgan, in which quite a number were killed and several wounded.
We commenced the celebration of the glorious Fourth by forming in line of battle with alacrity at half-past three A. M., our pickets having been again driven in, and the rebels seeming determined to have a bout with us before we left Kentucky. And I think our men would as soon have fought as not on this occasion, being tired of the constant annoyance, and ready to prove to Kentucky bushwhackers what kind of stuff they were made of. But, fortunately for both sides doubtless, the rebels remained outside of "Jimtown," and our forces remained inside, resting on their arms all day, and momentarily expecting an attack, which, however, was not made. And on the fifth of July, General Carter, deciding doubtless that this part of the State was not worth fighting for any longer, abandoned it to the enemy and moved his forces northward; first to Somerset, and then to Stanford, our base of supplies, which he continued to hold. Somerset was again reached after three days of the most difficult marching we had ever experienced, a heavy rain storm being in progress most of the time, rendering the movement of the artillery and heavy-laden army wagons well nigh impossible. With ten mules on one team, and two industrious swearers to drive them, I was only able to make a distance of two rods through the mire in the space of one whole hour, on one occasion during the first day of this march, which, by the way, was on Sunday.
Of course the army could move no faster than the wagon train on this march, as the rebels were immediately in our rear, ready to pounce upon us if a good opportunity was offered.
Eight days of continuous marching, most of the time over the same route we had travelled twice, and some of it three times before, and we were again at Nicholasville, where our regiment took the cars for Cincinnati by the way of Lexington. Our term of service had expired, but at the request of our greatly beloved General Burnside, we remained at Cincinnati for a week to assist in protecting that much frightened city from the raids of the somewhat ubiquitous General Morgan, who had preceded us from "Jimtown" to that more populous and inviting community. Another journey of a thousand miles—not, however, on foot—and the Twelfth Regiment was again at home.