With the Rank and File

by Thomas J. Ford

"Well, then, aim low," said I, "and shoot the son of a gun right in the heart." Strange to say the son deserted the rebels and ate supper with his father that night.

So determined and persistent was the fight in our part of the line, I heard a voice behind me saying, "Sergeant, what regiment is this?"

I looked around and saw General Little, and said, "This is the Twenty-fourth Wisconsin, General."

He commenced falling off his horse and said, "Brave boys, brave boys."

Those were the last words he ever spoke. He had his hand on the pone of his saddle, and as he was falling his hat fell off, his long auburn hair hung down, and he seemed to hang on to that saddle with his right hand until he was nearly to the ground. It is a sight I will never forget. I then looked to our left, and saw the rebels in our rear. The troops on our left had left us and we also left. As we were retreating in pretty good time, one of our boys was just in front of me, making the best time he could, and I keeping right up with him, when he was hit and killed. He fell across my track and I fell on top of him. I thought we were both shot with the same bullet. I got up again all right and lit out. You could see the rebels and you could hear the bullets plainer because there was but one side shooting. The bullets went zip, zip, into the leaves on the ground and around your ears as thick as bees.

We got down to the turnpike road. General Rosecrans and other generals were there, and tried to have us halt and form a line and charge the rebels back. Rosecrans said, "The rebels are defeated and are retreating at another part of the line, and if you could have held them here five minutes longer the battle would be ours." Some stood and listened, and three times as many went on.

The general took off his hat and said, "Boys, form a line here; there are enough of us to whip those rebels. We have them on the run in another part of the field. If you won't do it for my sake, do it for God's sake and for your country's sake." That brought a great many to halt and ready in line when a rebel solid shot, about a fifteen-pounder, came along and took off the right hand of one of the generals and part of the saddle he was resting on. That was seen too quick. Some one started, and away we went until we found ourselves near a gap leading into Ringgold.

General Sheridan took command of everything he could find. We got through the gap and into Chattanooga, and we were not long there before every man was three feet under ground with a breastwork against the enemy. We thought they would be right on to us, but they were too glad to take a rest and too glad to get rid of us, for they were nearly as badly whipped as we were.

This reminds me of the story of the Irishman and the Georgian who met and fought until both laid down along side of each other, completely exhausted. The Irishman threw his hand over on the Georgian's face and got him by the throat, but the Georgian got the Irishman's thumb in his mouth. They both held their grip and were found in that position and taken to the hospital. The Irishman got better first, but with his hand in a sling on account of his wounded thumb. He went to see the Georgian, and at first sight greeted him with, "Give me your hand, be jabers, you're nearly as good a man as meself."

So we went to see the rebels at Mission Ridge, and reminded them of Chickamauga, and I'll tell you how we did it. The rebels had us hemmed in in the Valley of Chattanooga for two months and five days, as near as I can recollect, with railroad and river communication cut off. Our line was sixteen miles long, the shape of a horseshoe, with the hind calking resting on the river. We were subjugated to quarter rations, not knowing how long a time we might be held inside of that circle. We would draw our quarter rations and eat them up right away, not having drawn for four days before, and take chances on foraging or gobbling or in any way that we could pick up anything to eat. At first we had candles and had some light. We ran out of candles, and we used grease in a tin can with a rag, a piece of an old shirt, or anything that would answer the purpose of a wick, to make light. After a while we ran out of grease. So whatever was left of the grease and wick in the old tin cans was thrown away and we did without light. After a while, when hunger began to pinch me very severely, I hunted up the old tin can that belonged to my messmates and myself, and I found it with considerable grease in it, mixed with some flies and the old rag wick. I ate them all and relished them very much at the time, but did not have very much appetite for my next quarter ration. I will say right here that if every soldier inside that line was asked to volunteer to drive the rebels off Mission Ridge there would be but one answer, and that would be, "I will go, let me go." Such was the feeling of the troops hemmed in in the Valley of Chattanooga. Every man was healthy and hungry, could run a race or turn a somersault. General Grant noticed that when he ordered a general review; that is what it turned out to be, but the order was not given in that shape. The order was, "Be ready to march tomorrow, at such an hour, in light marching order." We went out in the valley right at the edge of the timber near Orchard Knob and had a fine general review. General Bragg commenced concentrating his troops. He thought the Yankees were coming. A widow woman, at whose house he had his headquarters, asked him if he didn't think it better for her to move her family away from there to Ringgold. He said, "No, there were not Yankees enough in all Christendom to take that ridge."