Some of the boys stole a bee-hive and many of them got stung so their faces were swollen and eyes closed. Dr. Arnold was one of the injured ones, but he did not fail to eat his honey. As we lay on the ground that night I teased him, saying General Hardee would need no further proof; that he carried his guilt in his face. The doctor did not relish this so I turned over to go to sleep when a bee stung me on the cheek.
“Who’s the guilty one now?” laughed the doctor and the joke was surely on me. But I knew where the medicine wagon was, and went and got some ammonia. I bathed my face, and the swelling went down at once, so I came out ahead after all.
By daylight we were in line of battle and honey and bee-stings were forgotten. The Battle of Perryville was fought October 8th, 1862. We were on the extreme left and our battery, on a hill at our rear, was not engaged until late in the day. The heaviest fighting was on the extreme right. Both sides were contending stubbornly for a spring of water between the lines and were dying for water. Sometimes one side would have the advantage, sometimes the other. When called into action we crossed a bridge in the center of the town, formed a line and advanced to the top of the hill. Our battery was planted and had begun its work when we received orders to recross the bridge and occupy our former lines. We had to retreat under battery fire, and after we had got our battery over the bridge we marched along the pike. The enemy opened on us with grape and cannister and did deadly work. We double-quicked into line and their sharp-shooters gave us a terrible assault from behind the houses. But when our line was formed, our sharp-shooters deployed and our battery opened fire, they had to retreat. So the battle went on, but finally we had to give up the struggle and evacuate the town. The loss was heavy on both sides, about eight thousand men being killed, captured and wounded.
October 9th we marched fifteen miles and passed Harrodsburg. On the 10th we marched sixteen miles to Camp Dick Robinson. Here a council was held while General Bragg gave his wagons time to go South. It was the greatest wagon train ever seen in the army; was three days passing at one point. Here George Thomas and I each bought three yards of undyed jeans to make ourselves some trousers when we got back South.
The defeat at Perryville and the failure of the Kentuckians to join us as we had hoped, made our campaign anything but a brilliant success from a military point of view, notwithstanding our victories at Mumfordsville and Richmond.
But we had captured six thousand men, we had secured arms and ammunition which were sorely needed, we had gotten enormous quantities of supplies which were a great help to the Confederacy, and the men who did get back were tough as whit-leather, ready for anything.
October 13th we marched twenty-three miles, passing through Lancaster, October 14th we marched seventeen miles, going through Mount Vernon, and halted a little before dark.
Dr. Arnold and I went down to a creek about a mile from camp, and there in a field we found a fine pumpkin. He said if I would help him cook it I might help him eat it. He said it would have to cook until one o’clock to be well done. I told him I would help take it to camp but I’d be dinged if I’d stay up until one o’clock to cook it. I was too nearly dead for rest and sleep. We got it to camp, cut it up, put it in the famous old army camp kettle and Doc began the Herculean task of staying awake to cook his pumpkin. He did stay awake until one o’clock and got it nicely done, but was afraid to eat it at that unusual hour, as he might have cramp colic. He found an old fashioned oven with a lid, put his pumpkin into it, fastened the lid, placed the oven under the knapsack beneath his head and went to sleep. But first he took the trouble to wake me and tell me I should not have a bite of his pumpkin because I would not stay up to help him cook it.
When reveille sounded he woke up and began to guy me, saying “You shall not have a bite.” He took up his knapsack and behold, the oven, pumpkin and all, was gone! Oh, he was furious, and fairly pawed the ground. He thought I had taken it for a joke, but soon found that to be a mistake. We decided that some soldier had stolen and eaten it. If he had found the man he would have fought him to a finish. He never did see the joke.
October 19th we marched eleven miles. We passed over a battlefield, where General Buckner had fought, and crossed Wild Cat River. We marched thirteen miles and passed through Barkersville. This was a strong Union town in the mountains. The “Jay Hawkers” shot at us from the top of the mountains; women and boys pelted us with stones, shouting, “Hurrah, for the Union.” As they were women and children, we had to take it.