Capturing a Locomotive: A History of Secret Service in the Late War.

by William Pittenger

With no thought of our deadly peril we had stopped a short distance above Calhoun to cut the telegraph and oil the engine. Several of us were also engaged in battering out the spikes preparatory to lifting another rail. As we expected to spend ten or fifteen minutes in burning the large bridge which spanned the Oostenaula River, a little distance from us, Andrews thought it better that we should have a rail up in order to guard against the possibility of the train we had just passed being turned back after us in time to interrupt our work. It might have been better, as we were tempted to think afterwards, if we had begun on the bridge directly; but it was absolutely necessary to cut the wire, and the lifting of the rail would not take an additional minute.

The engine was inspected, and found to be still in perfect condition, though both wood and water were running low; the wire was severed; and eight of us had just taken hold of the loose end of a rail, out of which the spikes had been battered, and were trying to pull the other end loose also. But it was too firmly fixed, and we were about to release it, and wait the taking out of a few more spikes, when, away in the distance, we heard the whistle of an engine in pursuit! The effect was magical. With one convulsive effort the rail was broken asunder, and the whole party pitched in a heap over the low embankment. No one was hurt, and we were on our feet in a moment.

It did not require many moments to realize the situation. Our enemies were upon us at last! Their train was in plain sight. We could even see that they were well armed. There seemed to be no resource but flight.

But from whence came this train? The facts with which the reader is already familiar were all unknown to us, and the apparition of the pursuers all the more terrible on that account. We knew the difficulties against which we had struggled, and little thought that our pursuers had encountered nearly equal obstacles, over which they had so far been marvellously victorious. Greater surprise would not have been created in our ranks had the locomotive, to whose scream we unwillingly listened, dropped from the sky! One plausible conjecture only presented itself as to the presence of this train, and, if this one was correct, it could be but the earnest of speedy defeat and death. Possibly a telegraphic message from the other side of Big Shanty had traversed the wide circuit of more than two thousand miles past Atlanta, Richmond, Chattanooga, and back again to Calhoun, reaching the latter place just before the wire was cut, and inducing them to start back the train we had just met at full speed after us. All this was possible,—at least it seemed so to those of us who were not in the secret of the wide-spread system of military operations,—unless, indeed, the foresight of our government had provided at this very time for the severing of the telegraph on the Carolina coast, at which place alone this circuit came within striking distance of the Union lines.

But we had no time for idle conjectures. The fact was patent that a train was bearing down upon us at full speed. "Shall we stand and fight? Shall we attack them now?" were questions eagerly asked.

But Andrews still hesitated to depart from the course pursued so far. We had the rail broken which would arrest the enemy, and probably give us time to fire the bridge ahead. Then all might yet be well,—that is if the stations ahead were not warned, and the track obstructed before us. Should that prove the case, then to stand and sell our lives as dearly as possible, or, abandoning our engine, to fly on foot across the country, were all the alternatives. The crisis of our fate drew near, and our hardest and sharpest work lay just ahead.

Influenced by such considerations, which were then mainly confined to his own mind, Andrews, without a moment's hesitation, gave the signal, which was as quickly obeyed, for mounting the train. The engineer threw the valve wide open, and, with a spring that threw us from our feet, the noble steed was once more careering forward. To his companions on the locomotive Andrews said, quietly, as he ever spoke in times of deepest excitement, "Push her, boys; let her do her best. We must lose no time in getting to the bridge above." Some of the engine oil was thrown into the furnace, and the already fiery pace sensibly quickened. The problem seemed perfectly simple. If we could reach the bridge, and get it well on fire in less time than our enemies could piece out the broken rail, we had still a chance of life and success. If not, more desperate means became necessary. The speed of the engine might save us a precious half-minute, and on such a narrow margin everything turned. Nobly did our good old locomotive respond to the call! Rocking, whirling, bounding,—it seemed a marvel that some of the box-cars were not hurled from the track. Inside these cars all was action. Though we could scarcely keep one position a moment, idleness could not now be indulged. We knew that the time for concealment had passed, and we wrought with flying fingers in preparation for our incendiary work. The forward end of our box-car, and both ends of the others, were knocked out by employing one of the heavy cross-ties as a battering-ram, and the greater part of the sides were loosened in the same manner, and torn into fragments for kindling. This destruction of barriers also opened a way of communication with the engine. Andrews approved what we had done, and told us frankly that our lives probably depended on the number of seconds we consumed in getting the bridge on fire. Just then an exclamation of wonder and dismay from our keen-sighted fireman, Alfred Wilson, drew attention. He declared positively that he saw the smoke of the pursuing engine still following us! It was scarcely credible, but he was so positive, and it was so important to know the truth, that our speed was slackened to ascertain. In a moment a whistle, clear and unmistakable, rang out from beyond a curve we had just passed. All doubt was at an end; but our surprise and consternation were as great as when the train was first discovered in pursuit. There had been no time to lay again the rail we had taken up, and the broken half of which we still had with us. It seemed a miracle wrought against us. But Andrews' resources were not yet exhausted. He ordered another effort, which might yet give us time to fire the bridge ahead, that he was most unwilling to pass without destroying. The locomotive was reversed, and our kindling-wood, with most of the ties, carried forward, and the moment we began to move backward the hindmost car was uncoupled. The pursuing locomotive was then in fearful proximity. We could see that it was running backward, and that a number of men were crowded on it. Almost at the same moment its machinery was reversed and ours turned forward. As we left them at lightning speed we could just see that their velocity was well checked before they touched our abandoned car.

But this was not yet sufficient. As we came to the next slight up-grade the same manœuvre was repeated, and our second car flung back at the enemy in like manner. The time lost in doing this brought them again near us, and we saw that they were pushing our first car before them.

But how had they passed the broken rail? For years I could get no satisfactory information on this subject. Some Confederate accounts spoke of a rail being taken up behind and laid down before the engine. But the time was too short to permit such an action. That a stop could be made, a rail taken up, spiked down again, and our engine, running faster than the wind, overtaken,—all of this well inside of five minutes,—was incredible. Very probably this course was adopted in the case of the next train which was pursuing not far behind. Other Confederate accounts say nothing about this rail, while a few assert that it was not broken at all, but only loosened and left in its place. But having personally helped in the desperate pull, having fallen down the bank with the party, and carried one end of the rail to put on our car, besides having my left hand long suffer from being clasped under the hand of William Campbell, the strongest man of our party, I naturally cannot accept this explanation. Conductor Fuller gave another solution of the mystery scarcely less strange, which I repeat as he gave it to me. He said that when he saw our engine start on from this point he could see no obstruction, and allowed the train to continue at high speed. A moment after he noticed a short blank in one of the rails. A terrible fear swept over him, for it was now too late to stop. But quick as a lightning-flash he noticed another fact,—that the place of the missing rail was on the inside of a sharp curve. He explained to me that a train at a very high rate of speed throws the most of its weight on the outside rail of a curve, which is always made a little higher than the other. Had an outside rail been broken the destruction of their train would have been inevitable, but the break was on the inside. With that rapid decision which the better class of railroad men learn to exercise, he signalled to the engineer, "Faster; faster yet!" There was a sharp jolt, and the locomotive and the cars attached were on the other side of the obstruction with their speed not even abated. The next train which followed was the passenger train that we had met at Calhoun, which had also been turned back after us. This train had track-layers and instruments on board, and did very quickly repair the damage; but if Fuller had waited even that long the bridge over the Oostenaula would have been wrapped in flames before his arrival.

Fuller saw the car we dropped, and by promptly having his engine reversed, reduced the collision to merely a smart shock. It was dextrously coupled fast and driven forward at full speed. The second car we dropped was treated in the same manner, and the enemy's speed was scarcely diminished. The time lost in dropping the cars was about as long as that lost in coupling to them.