Some of them, when we reached the top of the mountain, looked back into the valley of East Tennessee and said, “Farewell to rebellion;” and they looked North and said, “I can see the Promised Land!” They were happy, but they had been so long hiding in the woods that they would only speak in whispers, and it was a long time before they could break themselves from the habit. You could trail them by the blood from their feet, but like brave men they marched along without a murmur.
James H. Randolph, of Newport, Tennessee, was with us. I was sorry for him as well as the others. His shoes were entirely worn out, and his feet were bleeding. I can remember the circumstances as distinctly as though it were but a few days ago. He looked at me and said, “Bob, when we get back to Tennessee we will give them H—, and rub it in!” He was mad, worn out, and nearly starved to death; but we were out of danger and began to realize that we were free once more.
We went down to the settlements in Kentucky, but could not see a man. It seemed that they had all gone to the Union or the rebel army; but the farms appeared to be in good condition and well stocked, and the fields were full of corn. We came to a large farm at the foot of the mountain, with a large frame house, painted white, but could not see any one. There was quite a field of corn, just in roasting ears. We halted, and I told the boys we must have something to eat, for we were nearly starved. We had had nothing to eat since we ate the apples and potatoes at old man Walker’s.
I told four or five of the boys to go to the corn field and bring as many roasting ears as they could carry, and some five or six others to go out in the pasture where there was a nice flock of sheep and bring in a couple of fat bucks, and we would cook the mutton with the roasting ears. In the meantime others went to the house and got a wash kettle in which to cook the mutton and corn, and some salt for seasoning. By the time they returned the boys had arrived with the roasting ears. I looked out in the pasture and saw five boys, each pulling a sheep along. They were so hungry that they thought they could eat a sheep apiece; but we only killed two, and they were fine. We had men in the company who could equal any butcher in dressing a sheep. We filled the kettle with corn and mutton, and had a fine barbecue. We had no soap, and when the boys got through, their mouths, faces and hands were as greasy as a fat stand. I sent one of the boys to the house to tell the lady how much we had taken, and ask what she charged.
She said, “Nothing.” Some of the boys had a little gold and silver with them and wanted to pay her.
We reached Camp Dick Robinson in a few days, and remained there some time. Col. Reeve had his regiment nearly made up. We organized our company as Company K, which about completed the regiment. The company was mustered into the service, when the boys drew their uniforms and their new Enfield rifles. After they had shaved, cleaned up and put on their new uniforms, I met them several times and did not know them. They were the happiest men I ever saw.
CHAPTER VI.
The army was getting ready to start on the march for East Tennessee. I had bought my officer’s uniform, with my straps on my shoulders and a sword hanging by my side. I do not think that General Grant or General Sherman ever felt as big as I did. Of course we had been lying in the mountains of East Tennessee for nearly two years, and had been chased by rebels and in danger of our lives every minute of our time, and had to leave our families to be treated like thieves—why not feel good as we were going back to relieve them? I have known rebels to take women and whip them to make them tell where their husbands were.
About the first of August we were ordered to be ready to march at a minute’s notice, and in a few days the orders came for us to fall in line. The band struck up the tune, “Going back to Dixie;” the men cheered, and some shed tears of joy. The army concentrated at Danville, Ky., and General Burnside took command of the 23d Army Corps. We remained there a few days, and then took up our march in fact for East Tennessee. We had a pretty hard time getting across the mountains, as the roads were very bad, and the horses and mules were not used to traveling; a great many of them gave out, and a large number died.
We reached East Tennessee, below Knoxville, about the last of August, 1863, and marched in the direction of that city, passing between it and Bean Station. We skirmished with the rebels on our way, and then camped at Bull’s Gap for a few days.