“This engagement seemed to be more like an ambuscade than anything else. It was so unexpected—like a thunderclap out of a clear sky. We were marching leisurely through a swampy, thickly-wooded country from early morning until 3 p. m., when we came to a clearing and found the enemy, who had been retreating for several days, posted in a very strong, well-chosen position, partly intrenched and sheltered by thick woods, while we were exposed to their deadly fire in the open field, which accounts for the great difference in the losses.
“We retired in good order during the night and next day to Jacksonville, forty miles distant, with but little trouble from the ‘Johnnies.’ Here young Egan joined his own battery, turned over his section to the commanding officer and reported a loss of one man killed, six wounded and twelve horses killed or disabled. He was slightly wounded himself and had a horse shot under him. The battery to which his section was attached lost about thirty-five men in killed, wounded and missing and three out of their four guns.
“I will now quote an incident of camp life taken from his narrative of the Florida campaign:
“‘A few days after our arrival in Jacksonville the battery, together with Barton’s Brigade, was ordered to Palatka. Palatka is a small town seventy miles from Jacksonville, on the St. John’s River, and is, at the present time, a winter resort for invalids. It was here that the famous ‘cow incident’ took place, and ‘Who killed the cow?’ afterward became a by-word in the brigade, especially when Colonel Barton was within hearing distance.
“‘It came about in this way: When we occupied Palatka, the only white person in the village was an old lady, who had a fine residence, and Colonel Barton, the commander of the brigade, made his headquarters there. This woman had a very nice cow, the only one in the village, and Barton was dependent upon her for milk.
“‘During the day the cow would feed in the dooryards and on the lawns, and sometimes she would come around to where Battery C was camped. One day some of the boys thought what a nice steak and liver they could get from the cow, and, at the same time, get square with Barton, he not being a favorite with the boys. They thought they might kill two birds with one stone by getting the steak and liver, and, at the same time, cut off Barton’s milk supply. So the next day, when the cow came along, one of the boys drove her into a back-yard near the camp, and, in a short time, that cow was a thing of the past.
“‘Steaks and liver were cut out for those who had done the work and for their friends, and the rest of the meat was sent to the cook house, where all had nice beef stew. Everything was all right until milking-time, when the cow failed to show up. Then the fun began. Men were sent out from headquarters and also from the Provost Marshal’s office to try to find the cow and to make inquiries.
“‘Of course, the men of Battery C knew nothing about her. But they were eventually suspected, for the next morning the Provost Marshal came to our quarters asking all sorts of questions. Some of the boys, including your humble servant, knew nothing about it and were sorry for the Colonel. The following morning Colonel Barton sent for the non-commissioned officers and told us that he was satisfied that the last seen of the cow was near Battery C’s camp. He also said that all he wanted was the name of the man who killed the cow, and that some of the non-commissioned officers must know something about it. He then asked each one the name of the man who killed the cow, but each denied all knowledge of it.
“‘Well, someone must have given the whole thing away, for the next day Captain James had the “assembly” blown and the company fell in. He then called the names of nine men, comprising one Sergeant, one Corporal, and seven privates. The Sergeant and Corporal were reduced to the ranks, and, with the other seven, were confined in the guard house, put on a diet of bread and water, and made a “spread eagle” of until someone should tell who killed the cow.
“‘Morning and evening they were asked who killed the cow, but they denied they knew who did it. This was carried on for three days, when someone put up a job with the pickets, and on the afternoon of the third day they began firing, the long roll was sounded and the prisoners were released to man the guns. No Johnnies appeared, it being a bluff to get the men released. They could not be punished again for the same offence, so thus ended the cow incident, but Colonel Barton never found out who killed the cow.