Recollections with the Third Iowa Regiment

by Seymour D. Thompson

November 29. We were aroused early, and were ready to move at daylight. But we were to be rear guard to-day, and had to wait for other troops to move out. The sun rose. Weary and stiff, we slung knapsacks and moved into the road. Slowly and with much halting the trains took the road, and by eight o'clock the column was again in motion. The roads were dusty, and the halts were more frequent and annoying than yesterday.

At 2 P. M., we reached Cold Water, where the left wing camped last night. Here we halted to rest and water our animals, and it was after dark when the march was resumed, and we did not reach Holly Springs till 11 P. M. Here we halted for the night. We built fires of the garden fences, and made our beds of forage taken from the barns of the citizens. Who could blame us? When the alternative was a cheerless night with no supper but that in our haversacks, and a bed upon the damp ground, what soldier would have done less?

And now, once more, those of the dwellers of this beautiful city who had not fled with their retiring army, saw on all sides the camp fires of "the Invader," and heard upon their sidewalks the tread of "Vandal" sentinels.

November 30—Sunday. The drums woke us at four o'clock, and though our short sleep had illy sufficed to refresh us, the admonitions of our officers, that we were soon to march, forbade any further attempt at repose. At daylight, the 3d Iowa leading the Division, we marched through the principal street of the city, with our files neatly dressed, to the sound of martial music. Vain parade! There were no citizens to witness it—none to admire it. If we had a terror for our enemy, we had inspired it in the confusion of battle, not by keeping step on review to sounds of fife and drum.

The day was cloudy, and the wind blew soft and damp from the south. For a while we moved rapidly; but soon subsided into a more reasonable gait. In the forenoon, while taking a short rest, we experienced a perceptible shock of an earthquake, which was also felt at Cairo and St. Louis. Reports frequently came that the cavalry division under Colonel Dickey, were skirmishing with the enemy's rear guard, and that he had captured two cannon.

As we approached Lumkin's Mills, a sudden burst of artillery saluted our ears. The sound put Colonel Pugh in ecstacies; and looking around, he called out in his peculiar tone of voice, "Boys, d' ye hear that?" The discharges were frequent and the deep valleys prolonged the sounds into deep echoes such as we had never heard before. It was the cavalry division engaging the enemy's nearest troops north of the Tallahatchie. This firing lasted nearly two hours, and not knowing the cause of it, we took it to be the beginning of a general engagement. We had been the rearmost division in the march; and coming up with the troops of the other divisions, we found them camped on a high, commanding ridge which rises along the north bank of the stream which turns Lumkin's Mills, and overlooks a more level tract southward toward the Tallahatchie. We camped in advance of them, the 1st Brigade on the plain in the extreme advance.

The cannonade died away with the daylight; and soon after the artillery of Heaven in louder and longer echoes began to shake the hills. We hastily put up tents in expectation of a storm. It came sweeping from the west with loud crashings of thunder—a perfect tornado. Our tents fell before it, and the water ran in streams under our blankets. Many of us were compelled to seek warmth around our re-enkindled fires. And here, though the body suffered, the mind could not but feel exalted in the presence of such a grand commotion of the elements. The crashing thunder, the intense darkness, relieved only by the frequent lightnings and the camp fires of the army extending far and wide to the north, and the rushing wind, were in the highest degree sublime. In the morning God had shaken the earth; in the evening man had shaken the heavens, and now God was shaking both the heavens and the earth.

December 1st. The day was without rain, but the wind cold and raw, blew broken masses of clouds from the north. It was reported that Sherman with a strong column had crossed the Tallahatchie, nine miles below the enemy's works, flanked him and compelled him to retreat. That evening McArthur's division hastily advanced, and during the entire following forenoon, the troops filed through our camps, advancing to the south. Our division and that now under command of Gen. Ross were left at this point; for what purpose, officers and men were alike unable to conjecture.

Trains were sent back to Lamar for rations, and the engineer troops were busy repairing the railroad southward from that point. General Sherman returned to Memphis to begin his expedition against Vicksburg, and General Grant, his column augmented by Denver's division of Sherman's troops, was pushing forward after the enemy. The details of his marches we knew only by report. The cavalry division pushed the enemy's rear guard with splendid results. Many prisoners passed to the rear, and we listened with thrilling interest to rehearsals of the gallant conduct of this portion of the army. The character of the cavalry, so much depreciated since the battle of Shiloh, now took a sudden rise in our estimation. In the romantic ideas of some of the young soldiers, "the man on the horse" came to be all in all. And many were frequently heard, regretting their misfortune in having enlisted in the infantry.