If we had followed up our victory and had Forrest cut off the enemy’s supplies what a difference it would have made. We might have stretched our lines to the Kentucky border. Such are the mistakes of war.
At this battle one of the boys captured two horses and gave them to Dr. Arnold. He said he would draw feed for them and on the march I could ride one of them. I named my horse “General Thomas” but before we left our first camp the assistant surgeons could draw feed only for one horse so I was afoot as I had been for two years.
We established a line of breastworks on Missionary Ridge and held Lookout Mountain, a mountain over a mile in height, and, as we thought, commanded Chattanooga.
The Yankees saw that something must be done or things would be booming in Dixie. They brought to the front Dutch, Irish, Hottentots and all kinds of troops, and by the last of October the Sequatchie (?) (Wauhatchie?) Valley was swarming like a beehive.
Once a Dutch corps of 15,000 went down the valley through a gap to reach our rear. Bragg sent to meet them about 15,000 troops, placing them arrowed in front. He had a line under General Hindeman with orders, at a certain signal, to rush across, cutting them off entirely from the main army. The signal was never given and we do not know why to this day. At that signal we were to follow across the valley at double-quick but Mr. Dutch discovered he was in a trap and he marched out again.
There was a Union man living on the route of this Dutch Devil, who had not joined either army. He had lived on his farm unmolested by the Southern troops, and supposed that of course he would be protected by the Northern troops. As the Dutch marched down to attack us they stopped at this man’s home, searched the place, insulted his wife and knocked him down. As they came running back they had no time to tarry, but one at a time, a straggler, would drop into his smokehouse to see if there was one ham left. The Union man took a long, keen bowie-knife and stood in the dark corner of the smokehouse; when only one man entered he stabbed him to the heart and put his body into the well. He killed three men. Next morning, he with his wife and children, walked into our camp. He said he was ready to fight to the bitter end. He took his family South and came back and made a bad soldier for them.
November 23, 24 and 25 we fought the “Battle Above the Clouds,” the terrible conflict of Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge. We were fighting continuously during those three days. We were in breastworks on the ridge near Lookout Mountain, but when the fighting was fiercest we were sent to relieve the commands at the extreme right of the Yankee army. They came in solid front five columns deep and charged our breastworks but were driven back hour after hour with terrible slaughter. Late in the afternoon they made a concentrated attack on our center and drove our men out of line. We had to give up Lookout Mountain and we retreated to the Ridge about midnight. Throughout the night Sherman’s troops were coming up, and next day we were attacked in front and flank. Our breastworks were of no use as Lookout Mountain commanded the Ridge, so in spite of desperate struggles we were ordered to retreat.
At Chattanooga it had been agreed that there should be no firing on the line of pickets without notification. Here between the picket line and the main line of battle our sporting boys sought “sheckle luck,” those who were fortunate enough to have a few sheckles of Confederate money. One day when General Hardee was officer of the day he ordered a regiment deployed around the gamblers, but soldiers from all parts of the field yelled to the boys to run, and run they did. General Hardee did not get many.
In our company was a Kentucky lad named Barnett who had a brother in the Union Army. They got permission to spend the day together. When the day was over they separated, each going back to his command. That was a war! Brother against brother, father against son, arrayed in deadly combat.
We went to Dalton, marching all night. As we crossed the river it seemed the coldest night our thinly clad men had ever experienced. Our corps under Hardee was the rear guard. General Cleburne’s Division was immediately in the rear. General Polk was our Brigadier General. About two o’clock we passed General Cleburne.