Zanesville, Ohio
March 28, 1813
When I last wrote you from Upper Sandusky, I confidently expected that something of considerable importance would have transpired within a very short time; but, unfortunately, the war in this quarter is protracted to a much longer period than I contemplated at that time. Indeed, the best-informed people in the army think that nothing decisive can be done before next winter. Invasions of a country with militia will never be successful. Some militiamen will not cross the lines; others will not submit to any kind of authority; and, in fact, they would all prefer being at home rather than courting fame on the battlefield.
The Kentucky and Ohio militia have been discharged for some time; the Pennsylvania and Virginia militia are to be discharged on April 1; and, unless other troops arrive, the camp will, in a great measure, be unprotected. No men will be left except our battalion, consisting of the Petersburg Volunteers and two companies from Pittsburgh (fifty men in one and fifteen in the other), together with about three hundred and fifty regulars. Ensign James G. Chalmers, who is appointed paymaster for all the twelve-month volunteers, and I left the rapids on the eighth. We have to remain here until the arrival of the district paymaster.
The next day after the date of my letter from Upper Sandusky, we left that place for the rapids, together with three hundred militia under the command of Major Orr. We had with us twenty pieces of heavy artillery and a quantity of military stores of every description. At this time we knew nothing of the unfortunate events at the Raisin River. On the second day of our march, a courier arrived from General Harrison; the artillery was ordered to advance with all possible speed. This was rendered totally impossible by the falling snow; it was a complete swamp nearly all the way. On the evening of the same day, news arrived that General Harrison had retreated to the Portage River, eighteen miles in the rear of the encampment at the rapids. It was determined that as many men as could be spared should proceed immediately to reinforce him. It is unnecessary to state that we were among the first who wished to advance.
At two o’clock the next morning, our tents were struck; and in half an hour we were on the road. I will candidly confess that on that day I regretted being a soldier. We marched thirty miles in incessant rain; and I am afraid you will doubt my veracity when I tell you that in eight miles of the best road, we sank into mud over the knees and often to the middle. The Black Swamp (four miles from the Portage River and four miles in extent) would have been considered impassable by all except men who were determined to surmount every difficulty to accomplish the object of their march. In this swamp one loses sight of terra firma altogether. The water was about six inches deep on the ice, which was very rotten and often broke through to a depth of four or five feet.
That same night we encamped on very wet ground, but the driest that we could find; the rain still continued. It was with difficulty that we built fires; our clothes were wet. We had no tents, no axes, nothing to cook in, and very little to eat. Since a brigade of pack horses was near us, we procured some flour from them; we killed a hog as there were plenty of them along the road. Our bread was baked in the ashes, and the pork we broiled on the coals. A sweeter meal I have never eaten. When we went to sleep, it was on two logs laid close together to keep our bodies from the damp ground. Good God! What a pliant being is man in adversity. The loftiest spirit that ever inhabited the human breast would have been tamed amid the difficulties that surrounded us.
The next morning we arrived at the headquarters of the northwestern army on the Portage River. During our stay here, we were in constant expectation of an attack. For several nights we went to sleep with our muskets in our arms and all our accoutrements fixed for action. On the arrival of the brigades of General Leftwich and General Crook [sic] from Sandusky, we marched for the rapids. The Kentucky and the Ohio troops had then only six days to serve. In a speech to them, the General pledged to take them to Malden in twenty days, which pledge would have been fulfilled if the cannon and military stores could have been got on. When we arrived at the rapids, the advance guard discovered that one of the three persons, who had been sent to Malden with a flag two days previously, had been killed and scalped by the Indians. The other two (we have since heard) are prisoners at Malden. So little does our enemy respect the laws of nations.
The encampment, protected by nature in three quarters by a steep, high bank, is opposite the Michigan Territory in a fine situation; the whole is picketed. The stores are deposited in eight blockhouses, built around the picketing. All of the encampment is nearly in a complete state of defense. The handsomest country along this river is in the vicinity of the camp, but all is a scene of desolation. After Hull’s surrender, the whole country was laid waste by the Indians. Every half mile there had been a house; the only remaining indication of habitation is the ruins that cover the ground where houses once stood!