Title: The Citizen-Soldier - or, Memoirs of a Volunteer
Author: Beatty, John
Language: English
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THE CITIZEN-SOLDIER;

OR,

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER.

BY

JOHN BEATTY.

       *       *       *       *       *

          CINCINNATI:
          WILSTACH, BALDWIN & CO., PUBLISHERS,
          NOS. 141 AND 143 RACE STREET.
          1879.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by

ELLEN B. HENDERSON,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.



TO MY BROTHER,

MAJOR WILLIAM GURLEY BEATTY,

WHOSE GENEROUS SACRIFICE OF HIS OWN INCLINATION AT THE

COMMENCEMENT OF THE WAR, AND FAITHFUL DEVOTION

TO MY FAMILY AND BUSINESS,

ENABLED ME TO ENTER THE ARMY AND REMAIN THREE YEARS,

THIS VOLUME

IS RESPECTFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.



INTRODUCTORY.


In the lifetime of all who arrive at mature age, there comes a period
when a strong desire is felt to know more of the past, especially to
know more of those from whom we claim descent. Many find even their
chief pleasure in searching among parish records and local histories for
some knowledge of ancestors, who for a hundred or five hundred years
have been sleeping in the grave. Long pilgrimages are made to the Old
World for this purpose, and when the traveler discovers in the crowded
church-yard a moss-covered, crumbling stone, which bears the name he
seeks, he takes infinite pains to decipher the half-obliterated epitaph,
and finds in this often what he regards as ample remuneration for all
his trouble. How vastly greater would be his satisfaction if he could
obtain even the simplest and briefest history of those in whom he takes
so deep an interest. Who were they? How were their days spent, and
amongst what surroundings? What were their thoughts, fears, hopes, acts?
Who were their associates, and on which side of the great questions of
the day did they stand? A full or even partial answer to these queries
would possess for him an incalculable value.

So, sitting here to-night, in my little library, with wife and children
near, and by God's great kindness all in life and health, I look
forward one, two, five hundred years, and see in each succeeding
century, and possibly in each generation, so long as the name shall
last, a wonder-eyed boy, curious youth, or inquisitive old man,
exploring closets and libraries for things of the old time, stumbling
finally on this volume, which has, by the charity of the State
Librarian, still been preserved; he discovers, with quickening pulse,
that it bears his own name, and that it was written for him by one whose
body has for centuries been dust. Dull and uninteresting as it may be to
others, for him it will possess an inexpressible charm. It is his own
blood speaking to him from the shadowy and almost forgotten past. The
message may be poorly written, the matter in the main may be worthless,
and the greater events recorded may be dwarfed by more recent and
important ones, but the volume is nevertheless of absorbing interest to
him, for by it he is enabled to look into the face and heart of one of
his own kin, who lived when the Nation was young. In leaving this
unpretentious record, therefore, I seek to do simply what I would have
had my fathers do for me.

Kinsmen of the coming centuries, I bid you hail and godspeed!

COLUMBUS, _December_ 16, 1878.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Third Ohio Volunteer Infantry served under two separate terms of
enlistment--the one for three months, and the other for three years.

The regiment was organized April 21, 1861, and on April 27th it was
mustered into the United States service, with the following field
officers: Isaac H. Marrow, Colonel; John Beatty, Lieutenant Colonel, and
J. Warren Keifer, Major.

The writer's record begins with the day on which his regiment entered
Virginia, June 22, 1861, and ends on January 1, 1864. He does not
undertake to present a history of the organizations with which he was
connected, nor does he attempt to describe the operations of armies. His
record consists merely of matters which came under his own observation,
and of camp gossip, rumors, trifling incidents, idle speculations, and
the numberless items, small and great, which, in one way and another,
enter into and affect the life of a soldier. In short, he has sought
simply to gather up the scraps which fell in his way, leaving to other
and more competent hands the weightier matters of the great civil war.

Many errors of opinion and of fact he might now correct, and many items
which appear unworthy of a paragraph he might now strike out, but he
prefers to leave the record as it was written, when cyclopedias could
not be consulted, nor time taken for thorough investigation.

Who can really know what an army is unless he mingles with the
individuals who compose it, and learns how they live, think, talk, and
act?



THE CITIZEN SOLDIER;

OR,

MEMOIRS OF A VOLUNTEER.


       *       *       *       *       *

JUNE, 1861.


22. Arrived at Bellaire at 3 P. M. There is trouble in the neighborhood
of Grafton. Have been ordered to that place.

The Third is now on the Virginia side, and will in a few minutes take
the cars.

23. Reached Grafton at 1 P. M. All avowed secessionists have run away;
but there are, doubtless, many persons here still who sympathize with
the enemy, and who secretly inform him of all our movements.

24. Colonel Marrow and I dined with Colonel Smith, member of the
Virginia Legislature. He professes to be a Union man, but his sympathies
are evidently with the South. He feels that the South is wrong, but does
not relish the idea of Ohio troops coming upon Virginia soil to fight
Virginians. The Union sentiment here is said to be strengthening daily.

26. Arrived at Clarksburg about midnight, and remained on the cars until
morning. We are now encamped on a hillside, and for the first time my
bed is made in my own tent.

Clarksburg has apparently stood still for fifty years. Most of the
houses are old style, built by the fathers and grandfathers of the
present occupants. Here, for the first time, we find slaves, each of the
wealthier, or, rather, each of the well-to-do, families owning a few.

There are probably thirty-five hundred troops in this vicinity--the
Third, Fourth, Eighteenth, Nineteenth, and part of the Twenty-second
Ohio, one company of cavalry, and one of artillery. Rumors of skirmishes
and small fights a few miles off; but as yet the only gunpowder we have
smelled is our own.

28. At twelve o'clock to-day our battalion left Clarksburg, followed a
stream called Elk creek for eight miles, and then encamped for the
night. This is the first march on foot we have made. The country through
which we passed is extremely hilly and broken, but apparently fertile.
If the people of Western Virginia were united against us, it would be
almost impossible for our army to advance. In many places the creek on
one side, and the perpendicular banks on the other, leave a strip barely
wide enough for a wagon road.

Buckhannon, twenty miles in advance of us, is said to be in the hands of
the secession troops. To-morrow, or the day after, if they do not leave,
a battle will take place. Our men appear eager for the fray, and I pray
they may be as successful in the fight as they are anxious for one.

29. It is half-past eight o'clock, and we are still but eight miles from
Clarksburg. We were informed this morning that the secession troops had
left Buckhannon, and fallen back to their fortifications at Laurel Hill
and Rich mountain. It is said General McClellan will be here to-morrow,
and take command of the forces in person.

In enumerating the troops in this vicinity, I omitted to mention Colonel
Robert McCook's Dutch regiment, which is in camp two miles from us. The
Seventh Ohio Infantry is now at Clarksburg, and will, I think, move in
this direction to-morrow.

Provisions outside of camp are very scarce. I took breakfast with a
farmer this morning, and can say truly that I have eaten much better
meals in my life. We had coffee without sugar, short-cake without
butter, and a little salt pork, exceedingly fat. I asked him what the
charge was, and he said "Ninepence," which means one shilling. I
rejoiced his old soul by giving him two shillings.

The country people here have been grossly deceived by their political
leaders. They have been made to believe that Lincoln was elected for the
sole purpose of liberating the negro; that our army is marching into
Virginia to free their slaves, destroy their property, and murder their
families; that we, not they, have set the Constitution and laws at
defiance, and that in resisting us they are simply defending their homes
and fighting for their constitutional rights.



JULY, 1861.


2. Reached Buckhannon at 5 P. M., and encamped beside the Fourth Ohio,
in a meadow, one mile from town. The country through which we marched is
exceedingly hilly; or, perhaps, I might say mountainous. The scenery is
delightful. The road for miles is cut around great hills, and is just
wide enough for a wagon. A step to the left would send one tumbling a
hundred or two hundred feet below, and to the right the hills rise
hundreds of feet above. The hills, half way to their summits, are
covered with corn, wheat, or grass, while further up the forest is as
dense as it could well have been a hundred years ago.

3. For the first time to-day, I saw men bringing tobacco to market in
bags. One old man brought a bag of natural leaf into camp to sell to the
soldiers, price ten cents per pound. He brought it to a poor market,
however, for the men have been bankrupt for weeks, and could not buy
tobacco at a dime a bagfull.

4. The Fourth has passed off quietly in the little town of Buckhannon
and in camp.

At ten o'clock the Third and Fourth Regiments were reviewed by General
McClellan. The day was excessively warm, and the men, buttoned up in
their dress-coats, were much wearied when the parade was over.

In the court-house this evening, the soldiers had what they call a "stag
dance." Camp life to a young man who has nothing specially to tie him to
home has many attractions--abundance of company, continual excitement,
and all the fun and frolic that a thousand light-hearted boys can
devise.

To-night, in one tent, a dozen or more are singing "Dixie" at the top of
their voices. In another "The Star-Spangled Banner" is being executed so
horribly that even a secessionist ought to pity the poor tune. Stories,
cards, wrestling, boxing, racing, all these and a thousand other things
enter into a day in camp. The roving, uncertain life of a soldier has a
tendency to harden and demoralize most men. The restraints of home,
family, and society are not felt. The fact that a few hours may put them
in battle, where their lives will not be worth a fig, is forgotten. They
think a hundred times less of the perils by which they may be surrounded
than their friends do at home. They encourage and strengthen each other
to such an extent that, when exposed to danger, imminent though it be,
they do not seem to realize it.

7. On the 5th instant a scouting party, under Captain Lawson, started
for Middle Fork bridge, a point eighteen miles from camp. At eight
o'clock last night, when I brought the battalion from the drill-ground,
I found that a messenger had arrived with intelligence that Lawson had
been surrounded by a force of probably four hundred, and that, in the
engagement, one of his men had been killed and three wounded. The camp
was alive with excitement. Each company of the Third had contributed
five men to Captain Lawson's detachment, and each company, therefore,
felt a special interest in it. The messenger stated that Captain Lawson
was in great need of help, and General McClellan at once ordered four
companies of infantry and twenty mounted men to move to his assistance.
I had command of the detachment, and left camp about nine o'clock P. M.,
accompanied by a guide. The night was dark. My command moved on silently
and rapidly. After proceeding about three miles, we left the turnpike
and turned onto a narrow, broken, bad road, leading through the woods,
which we followed about eight miles, when we met Captain Lawson's
detachment on its way back. Here we removed the wounded from the farm
wagon in which they had been conveyed thus far, to an ambulance brought
with us for the purpose, countermarched, and reached our quarters about
three o'clock this morning.

I will not undertake to give the details of Captain Lawson's skirmish. I
may say, however, that the number of the enemy killed and wounded,
lacerated and torn, by Corporal Casey, was beyond all computation. Had
the rebels not succeeded in getting a covered bridge between themselves
and the invincible Irishman, he would, if we may believe his own
statement, have annihilated the whole force, and brought back the head
of their commanding officer on the point of his bayonet.

8. This morning, at seven o'clock, our tents were struck, and, with
General McClellan and staff in advance, we moved to Middle Fork bridge.
It was here that Captain Lawson's skirmish on Saturday had occurred. The
man killed had been buried by the Fourth Ohio before our arrival. Almost
every house along the road is deserted by the men, the women sometimes
remaining. The few Union men of this section have, for weeks past, been
hiding away in the hills. Now the secessionists have taken to the woods.
The utmost bitterness of feeling exists between the two. A man was found
to-day, within a half mile of this camp, with his head cut off and
entrails ripped out, probably a Union man who had been hounded down and
killed. The Dutch regiment (McCook's), when it took possession of the
bridge, had a slight skirmish with the enemy, and, I learn, killed two
men. On the day after to-morrow I apprehend the first great battle will
be fought in Western Virginia.

I ate breakfast in Buckhannon at six o'clock A. M., and now, at six
o'clock P. M. am awaiting my second meal.

The boys, I ascertain, searched one secession house on the road, and
found three guns and a small amount of ammunition. The guns were hunting
pieces, all loaded. The woman of the house was very indignant, and spoke
in disrespectful terms of the Union men of the neighborhood, whom she
suspected of instigating the search. She said she "had come from a
higher sphere than they, and would not lay down with dogs." She was an
Eastern Virginia woman, and, although poor as a church mouse, thought
herself superior to West Virginia people. As an indication of this
lady's refinement and loyalty, it is only necessary to say that a day or
two before she had displayed a secession flag made, as she very frankly
told the soldiers, of the tail of an old shirt, with J. D. and S. C. on
it, the letters standing for Jefferson Davis and the Southern
Confederacy.

Four or five thousand men are encamped here, huddled together in a
little circular valley, with high hills surrounding. A company of
cavalry is just going by my tent on the road toward Beverly, probably to
watch the front.

As we were leaving camp this morning, an officer of an Ohio regiment
rode at break-neck speed along the line, inquiring for General
McClellan, and yelling, as he passed, that four companies of the
regiment to which he belongs had been surrounded at Glendale, by twelve
hundred secessionists, under O. Jennings Wise. Our men, misapprehending
the statement, thought Buckhannon had been attacked, and were in a great
state of excitement.

The officers of General Schleich's staff were with me on to-day's march,
and the younger members, Captains Hunter and Dubois, got off whatever
poetry they had in them of a military cast. "On Linden when the sun was
low," was recited to the hills of Western Virginia in a manner that must
have touched even the stoniest of them. I could think of nothing but
"There was a sound of revelry by night," and as this was not
particularly applicable to the occasion, owing to the exceeding
brightness of the sun, and the entire absence of all revelry, I thought
best not to astonish my companions by exhibiting my knowledge of the
poets.

West Virginia hogs are the longest, lankest, boniest animals in
creation. I am reminded of this by that broth of an Irish lad, Conway,
who says, in substance, and with a broad Celtic accent, that their noses
have to be sharpened every morning to enable them to pick a living among
the rocks.

Colonel Marrow informs me that an attack is apprehended to-night. We
have sent out strong pickets. The cannon are so placed as to shoot up
the road. Our regiment is to form on the left of the turnpike, and the
Dutch regiment on the right, in case the secession forces should be bold
enough to come down on us.

9. Moved from the Middle Fork of the Buckhannon river at seven o'clock
this morning, and arrived at Roaring creek at four P. M. We came over
the hills with all the pomp and circumstance of glorious war; infantry,
cavalry, artillery, and hundreds of army wagons; the whole stretching
along the mountain road for miles. The tops of the Alleghanies can now
be seen plainly. We are at the foot of Rich mountain, encamped where our
brothers of the secession order pitched their tents last night. Our
advance guard gave them a few shots and they fled precipitately to the
mountains, burning the bridge behind them. When our regiment arrived a
few shots were heard, and the bayonets and bright barrels of the
enemy's guns could be seen on the hills.

It clouded up shortly after, and before we had pitched our tents, the
clouds came over Rich mountain, settling down upon and hiding its summit
entirely. Heaven gave us a specimen of its artillery firing, and a heavy
shower fell, drenching us all completely. As I write, the sound of a
cannon comes booming over the mountain. There it goes again! Whether it
is at Phillippi or Laurel Hill, I can not tell. Certain it is that the
portion of our army advancing up the Valley river is in battle,
somewhere, and not many miles away.

We do not know the strength of our opponents, nor the character and
extent of their fortifications. These mountain passes must be ugly
things to go through when in possession of an enemy; our boys look
forward, however, to a day of battle as one of rare sport. I do not. I
endeavor to picture to myself all its terrors, so that I may not be
surprised and dumbfounded when the shock comes. Our army is probably now
making one of the most interesting chapters of American history. God
grant it may be a chapter our Northern people will not be ashamed to
read!

I am not confident of a speedy termination of the war. These people are
in the wrong, but have been made to believe they are in the right--that
we are the invaders of their hearthstones, come to conquer and destroy.
That they will fight with desperation, I have no doubt. Nature has
fortified the country for them. He is foolishly oversanguine who
predicts an easy victory over such a people, intrenched amidst mountains
and hills. I believe the war will run into a war of emancipation, and
when it ends African slavery will have ended also. It would not,
perhaps, be politic to say so, but if I had the army in my own hands, I
would take a short cut to what I am sure will be the end--commence the
work of emancipation at once, and leave every foot of soil behind me
free.

10. From the best information obtainable, we are led to believe the
mountains and hills lying between this place and Beverly are strongly
fortified and full of men. We can see a part of the enemy's
fortifications very plainly from a hill west of camp. Our regiment was
ordered to be in readiness to march, and was under arms two hours.
During this time the Dutch regiment (McCook's), the Fourth Ohio, four
pieces of artillery, one company of cavalry, with General McClellan,
marched to the front, the Dutchmen in advance. They proceeded, say a
mile, when they overhauled the enemy's pickets, and in the little
skirmish which ensued one man of McCook's regiment was shot, and two of
the enemy captured. By these prisoners it is affirmed that eight or nine
thousand men are in the hills before us, well armed, with heavy
artillery planted so as to command the road for miles. How true this is
we can not tell. Enough, however, has been learned to satisfy McClellan
that it is not advisable to attack to-day. What surprises me is that the
General should know so little about the character of the country, the
number of the enemy, and the extent of his fortifications.

During the day, Colonel Marrow, apparently under a high state of
excitement, informed me that he had just had an interview with George
(he usually speaks of General McClellan in this familiar way), that an
attack was to be made, and the Third was to lead the column. He desired
me, therefore, to get out my horse at once, take four men with me, and
search the woods in our front for a practicable road to the enemy. I
asked if General McClellan had given him any information that would aid
me in this enterprise, such as the position of the rebels, the location
of their outposts, their distance from us, and the character of the
country between our camp and theirs. He replied that George had not. It
occurred to me that four men were rather too few, if the work
contemplated was a reconnoissance, and rather too many if the service
required was simply that for which spies are usually employed. I
therefore spoke distrustingly of the proposed expedition, and questioned
the propriety of sending so small a force, so utterly without
information, upon so hazardous an enterprise, and apparently so foolish
a one. My language gave offense, and when I finally inquired what four
men I should take, the Colonel told me, rather abruptly, to take whom I
pleased, and look where I pleased. His manner, rather than his words,
indicated a doubt of my courage, and I turned from him, mounted my
horse, and started for the front, determined to obey the order to the
best of my ability, but to risk the lives of no others on what was
evidently a fool's errand. After proceeding some distance, I found that
the wagon-master was at my heels, and, together, we traced every
cow-path and mountain road we could find, and passed half a mile beyond
the enemy's outposts, and over ground visited by his scouts almost
hourly. When I returned to make my report, I was curtly informed that no
report was desired, as the plan had been changed.

A little after midnight the Colonel returned from head-quarters with
important information, which he desired to communicate to the regiment.
The men were, therefore, ordered to turn out, and came hesitatingly and
sleepily from their tents. They looked like shadows as they gathered in
the darkness about their chieftain. It was the hour when graveyards are
supposed to yawn, and the sheeted dead to walk abroad. The gallant
Colonel, with a voice in perfect accord with the solemnity of the hour,
and the funereal character of the scene, addressed us, in substance, as
follows:

"Soldiers of the Third: The assault on the enemy's works will be made in
the early morning. The Third will lead the column. The secessionists
have ten thousand men and forty rifled cannon. They are strongly
fortified. They have more men and more cannon than we have. They will
cut us to pieces. Marching to attack such an enemy, so intrenched and so
armed, is marching to a butcher-shop rather than to a battle. There is
bloody work ahead. Many of you, boys, will go out who will never come
back again."

As this speech progressed my hair began to stiffen at the roots, and a
chilly sensation like that which might ensue from the unexpected and
clammy touch of the dead, ran through me. It was hard to die so young
and so far from home. Theological questions which before had attracted
little or no attention, now came uppermost in our minds. We thought of
mothers, wives, sweethearts--of opportunities lost, and of good advice
disregarded. Some soldiers kicked together the expiring fragments of a
camp-fire, and the little blaze which sprang up revealed scores of
pallid faces. In short, we all wanted to go home.

When a boy I had read Plutarch, and knew something of the great warriors
of the old time; but I could not, for the life of me, recall an instance
wherein they had made such an address to their soldiers on the eve of
battle. It was their habit, at such a time, to speak encouragingly and
hopefully. With all due respect, therefore, for the superior rank and
wisdom of the Colonel, I plucked him by the sleeve, took him one side,
and modestly suggested that his speech had had rather a depressing
effect on the regiment, and had taken that spirit out of the boys so
necessary to enable them to do well in battle. I urged him to correct
the mistake, and speak to them hopefully. He replied that what he had
said was true, and they should know the truth.

The morning dawned; but instead of being called upon to lead the
column, we were left to the inglorious duty of guarding the camp, while
other regiments moved forward toward the enemy's line. In half an hour,
in all probability, the work of destruction will commence. I began this
memoranda on the evening of the 10th, and now close it on the morning of
the 11th.

11. At 10 A. M. we were ordered to the front; passed quite a number of
regiments on our way thither, and finally took position not far from the
enemy's works. We were now at the head of the column. A small brook
crossed the road at this point, and the thick woods concealed us from
the enemy. A few rods further on, a bend in the road gave us a good view
of the entire front of his fortifications. Major Keifer and a few other
gentlemen, in their anxiety to get more definite information in regard
to the position of the secessionists, and the extent of their works,
went up the road, and were saluted by a shot from their battery. We
expected every moment to receive an order to advance. After a time,
however, we ascertained that Rosecrans, with a brigade, was seeking the
enemy's rear by a mountain path, and we conjectured that, so soon as he
had reached it, we would be ordered to make the assault in front. It was
a dark, gloomy day, and the hours passed slowly.

Between two and three o'clock we heard shots in the rear of the
fortifications; then volleys of musketry, and the roar of artillery.
Every man sprang to his feet, assured that the moment for making the
attack had arrived. General McClellan and staff came galloping up, and a
thousand faces turned to hear the order to advance; but no order was
given. The General halted a few paces from our line, and sat on his
horse listening to the guns, apparently in doubt as to what to do; and
as he sat there with indecision stamped on every line of his
countenance, the battle grew fiercer in the enemy's rear. Every volley
could be heard distinctly. There would occasionally be a lull for a
moment, and then the uproar would break out again with increased
violence. If the enemy is too strong for us to attack, what must be the
fate of Rosecrans' four regiments, cut off from us, and struggling
against such odds? Hours passed; and as the last straggling shots and
final silence told us the battle had ended, gloom settled down on every
soldier's heart, and the belief grew strong that Rosecrans had been
defeated, and his brigade cut to pieces or captured. This belief grew to
certain conviction soon after, when we heard shout after shout go up
from the fortifications in our front.

Major Keifer with two companies had, early in the afternoon, climbed the
hill on our right to look for a position from which artillery could be
used effectively. The ground over which he moved was broken and covered
with a dense growth of trees and underbrush; finally an elevation was
discovered which commanded the enemy's camp, but before a road could be
cut, and the artillery brought up, it was too late in the day to begin
the attack.

Night came on. It was intensely dark. About nine o'clock we were ordered
to withdraw our pickets quietly and return to our old quarters. On our
way thither a rough voice cried: "Halt! Who comes there?" And a thousand
shadowy forms sprang up before us. The challenge was from Colonel Robert
McCook, and the regiment his. The scene reminded me of the one where

          "That whistle garrisoned the glen
           At once with full five hundred men,
           As if the yawning hill to heaven
           A subterranean host had given."

12. We were rejoiced this morning to hear of Rosecrans' success, and, at
the same time, not well pleased at the escape of the enemy under cover
of night. We were ordered to move, and got under way at eight o'clock.
On the road we met General Rosecrans and staff. He was jubilant, as well
he might be, and as he rode by received the congratulations of the
officers and cheers of the men.

Arriving on yesterday's battle-field, the regiment was allowed a half
hour for rest. The dead had been gathered and placed in a long trench,
which was still open. The wounded of both armies were in hospital,
receiving the attention of the surgeons. There were a few prisoners,
most of them too unwell to accompany their friends in retreat.

Soon after reaching the summit of Rich mountain, we caught glimpses of
Tygart's valley, and of Cheat mountain beyond, and before nightfall
reached Beverly and went into camp.

13. Six or eight hundred Southern troops sent in a flag of truce, and
surrendered unconditionally. They are a portion of the force which
fought Rosecrans at Rich mountain, and Morris at Laurel Hill.

We started up the Valley river at seven o'clock this morning, our
regiment in the lead. Found most of the houses deserted. Both Union men
and secessionists had fled. The Southern troops, retreating in this
direction, had frightened the people greatly, by telling them that we
shot men, ravished women, and destroyed property. When within
three-quarters of a mile of Huttonville, we were informed that forty or
fifty mounted secessionists were there. The order to double-quick was
given, and the regiment entered the village on a run. As we made a turn
in the road, we discovered a squad of cavalry retreating rapidly. The
bridge over the river had been burned, and was still smoking. Our troops
sent up a hurrah and quickened their pace, but they had already traveled
eleven miles on a light breakfast, and were not in condition to run down
cavalry. That we might not lose at least one shot at the enemy, I got an
Enfield rifle from one of the men, galloped forward, and fired at the
retreating squad. It was the best shot I could make, and I am forced to
say it was a very poor one, for no one fell. On second thought, it
occurred to me that it would have been criminal to have killed one of
these men, for his death could have had no possible effect on the result
of the war.

Huttonville is a very small place at the foot of Cheat mountain. We
halted there perhaps one hour, to await the arrival of General
McClellan; and when he came up, were ordered forward to secure a
mountain pass. It is thought fifteen hundred secessionists are a few
miles ahead, near the top of the mountain. Two Indiana regiments and one
battery are with us. More troops are probably following.

The man who owns the farm on which we are encamped is, with his family,
sleeping in the woods to-night, if, indeed, he sleeps at all.

14. The Ninth and Fourth Ohio, Fifteenth Indiana, and one company of
cavalry, started up the mountain between seven and eight o'clock. The
Colonel being unwell, I followed with the Third. Awful rumors were
afloat of fortifications and rebels at the top; but we found no
fortifications, and as for the rebels, they were scampering for Staunton
as fast as their legs could carry them.

This mountain scenery is magnificent. As we climbed the Cheat the views
were the grandest I ever looked upon. Nests of hills, appearing like
eggs of the mountain; ravines so dark that one could not guess their
depth; openings, the ends of which seemed lost in a blue mist;
broken-backed mountains, long mountains, round mountains, mountains
sloping gently to the summit; others so steep a squirrel could hardly
climb them; fatherly mountains, with their children clustered about
them, clothed in birch, pine, and cedar; mountain streams, sparkling
now in the sunlight, then dashing down into apparently fathomless
abysses.

It was a beautiful day, and the march was delightful. The road is
crooked beyond description, but very solid and smooth.

The farmer on whose premises we are encamped has returned from the
woods. He has discovered that we are not so bad as we were reported.
Most of the negroes have been left at home. Many were in camp to-day
with corn-bread, pies, and cakes to sell. Fox, my servant, went out this
afternoon and bought a basket of bread. He brought in two chickens also,
which he said were presented to him. I suspect Fox does not always tell
the truth.

16. The Fourteenth Indiana and one company of cavalry went to the summit
this morning to fortify.

The Colonel has gone to Beverly. The boys repeat his Rich mountain
speech with slight variations: "Men, there are ten thousand
secessionists in Rich mountain, with forty rifled cannon, well
fortified. There's bloody work ahead. You are going to a butcher-shop
rather than a battle. Ten thousand men and forty rifled cannon! Hostler,
you d--d scoundrel, why don't you wipe Jerome's nose?" Jerome is the
Colonel's horse, known in camp as the White Bull.

Conway, who has been detailed to attend to the Colonel's horses, is
almost as good a speech-maker as the Colonel. This, in brief, is
Conway's address to the White Bull:

"Stand still there, now, or I'll make yer stand still. Hold up yer head
there, now, or I'll make yer hold it up. Keep quiet; what the h--ll yer
'bout there, now? D--n you! do you want me to hit you a lick over the
snoot, now--do you? Are you a inviten' me to pound you over the head
with a saw-log? D--n yer ugly pictures, whoa!"

18. This afternoon, when riding down to Huttonville, I met three or four
hundred sorry-looking soldiers. They were without arms. On inquiry, I
found they were a part of the secession army, who, finding no way of
escape, had come into our lines and surrendered. They were badly
dressed, and a hard, dissolute-looking lot of men. To use the language
of one of the soldiers, they were "a milk-sickly set of fellows," and
would have died off probably without any help from us if they had been
kept in the mountains a little longer. They were on their way to
Staunton. General McClellan had very generously provided them with
provisions for three days, and wagons to carry the sick and wounded; and
so, footsore, weary, and chopfallen, they go over the hills.

An unpleasant rumor is in camp to-night, to the effect that General
Patterson has been defeated at Williamsport. This, if true, will
counterbalance our successes in Western Virginia, and make the game an
even one.

The Southern soldiers mentioned above are encamped for the night a
little over a mile from here. About dusk I walked over to their camp.
They were gathered around their fires preparing supper. Many of them
say they were deceived, and entered the service because they were led to
believe that the Northern army would confiscate their property, liberate
their slaves, and play the devil generally. As they thought this was
true, there was nothing left for them to do but to take up arms and
defend themselves.

While we were at Buckhannon, an old farmer-looking man visited us daily,
bringing tobacco, corn-bread, and cucumber pickles. This innocent old
gentleman proves to have been a spy, and obtained his reward in the loss
of a leg at Rich mountain.

19. To-day, eleven men belonging to a company of cavalry which
accompanied the Fourteenth Indiana to the Summit, were sent out on a
scouting expedition. When about ten miles from camp, on the opposite
side of the mountain, they halted, and while watering their horses were
fired upon. One man was killed and three wounded. The other seven fled.
Colonel Kimball sent out a detachment to bring in the wounded; but
whether it succeeded or not I have not heard.

A musician belonging to the Fourth Ohio, when six miles out of Beverly,
on his way to Phillippi, was fired upon and instantly killed. So goes
what little there is of war in Western Virginia.

20. The most interesting of all days in the mountains is one on which
the sky is filled with floating clouds, not hiding it entirely, but
leaving here and there patches of blue. Then the shadows shift from
place to place, as the moving clouds either let in the sunshine or
exclude it. Standing at my tent-door at eleven o'clock in the morning,
with a stiff breeze going, and the clouds on the wing, we see a peak,
now in the sunshine, then in the shadow, and the lights and shadows
chasing each other from point to point over the mountains, presenting
altogether a panorama most beautiful to look upon, and such an one as
God only can present.

I can almost believe now that men become, to some extent, like the
country in which they live. In the plain country the inhabitants learn
to traffic, come to regard money-getting as the great object in life,
and have but a dim perception of those higher emotions from which spring
the noblest acts. In a mountain country God has made many things
sublime, and some things very beautiful. The rugged, the smooth, the
sunshine, and the shadow meet one at every turn. Here are peaks getting
the earliest sunlight of the morning, and the latest of the evening;
ravines so deep the light of day can never penetrate them; bold, rugged,
perpendicular rocks, which have breasted the storms for ages; gentle
slopes, swelling away until their summits seem to dip in the blue sky;
streams, cold and clear, leaping from crag to crag, and rushing down
nobody knows whither. Like the country, may we not look to find the
people unpolished, rugged and uneven, capable of the noblest heroism or
the most infernal villainy--their lives full of lights and shadows,
elevations and depressions?

The mountains, rising one above another, suggest, forcibly enough, the
infinite power of the Creator, and when the peaks come in contact with
the clouds it requires but little imagination to make one feel that God,
as at Sinai, has set His foot upon the earth, and that earth and heaven
are really very near each other.

21. This morning, at two o'clock, I was rattled up by a sentinel, who
had come to camp in hot haste to inform me that he had seen and fired
upon a body of twenty-five or more men, probably the advance guard of
the enemy. He desired me to send two companies to strengthen the
outpost. I preferred, however, to go myself to the scene of the trouble;
and, after investigation, concluded that the guard had been alarmed by a
couple of cows.

Another lot of secession prisoners, some sixty in number, passed by this
afternoon. They were highly pleased with the manner in which they had
been treated by their captors.

The sound of a musket is just heard on the picket post, three-quarters
of a mile away, and the shot is being repeated by our line of sentinels.
* * * The whole camp has been in an uproar. Many men, half asleep,
rushed from their tents and fired off their guns in their company
grounds. Others, supposing the enemy near, became excited and discharged
theirs also. The tents were struck, Loomis' First Michigan Battery
manned, and we awaited the attack, but none was made. It was a false
alarm. Some sentinel probably halted a stump and fired, thus rousing a
thousand men from their warm beds. This is the first night alarm we have
had.

22. We hear that General Cox has been beaten on the Kanawha; that our
forces have been repulsed at Manassas Gap, and that our troops have been
unsuccessful in Missouri. I trust the greater part, if not all, of this
is untrue.

We have been expecting orders to march, but they have not come. The men
are very anxious to be moving, and when moving, strange to say, always
very anxious to stop.

23. Officers and men are low-spirited to-night. The news of yesterday
has been confirmed. Our army has been beaten at Manassas with terrible
loss. General McClellan has left Beverly for Washington. General
Rosecrans will assume command in Western Virginia. We are informed that
twenty miles from us, in the direction of Staunton, some three thousand
secessionists are in camp. We shall probably move against them.

24. The news from Manassas Junction is a little more cheering, and all
feel better to-day.

We have now a force of about four thousand men in this vicinity, and two
or three thousand at Beverly. We shall be in telegraphic communication
with the North to-morrow.

The moon is at its full to-night, and one of the most beautiful sights I
have witnessed was its rising above the mountain. First the sky lighted
up, then a halo appeared, then the edge of the moon, not bigger than a
star, then the half-moon, not semi-circular, but blazing up like a great
gaslight, and, finally, the full, round moon had climbed to the top,
and seemed to stop a moment to rest and look down on the valley.

27. The Colonel left for Ohio to-day, to be gone two weeks.

I came from the quarters of Brigadier-General Schleich a few minutes
ago. He is a three-months' brigadier, and a rampant demagogue. Schleich
said that slaves who accompanied their masters to the field, when
captured, should be sent to Cuba and sold to pay the expenses of the
war. I suggested that it would be better to take them to Canada and
liberate them, and that so soon as the Government began to sell negroes
to pay the expenses of the war I would throw up my commission and go
home. Schleich was a State Senator when the war began. He is what might
be called a tremendous little man, swears terribly, and imagines that he
thereby shows his snap. Snap, in his opinion, is indispensable to a
military man. If snap is the only thing a soldier needs, and profanity
is snap, Schleich is a second Napoleon. This General Snap will go home,
at the expiration of his three-months' term, unregretted by officers and
men. Major Hugh Ewing will return with him. Last night the Major became
thoroughly elevated, and he is not quite sober yet. He thinks, when in
his cups, that our generals are too careful of their men. "What are a
th-thousand men," said he, "when (hic) principle is at stake? Men's
lives (hic) shouldn't be thought of at such a time (hic). Amount to
nothing (hic). Our generals are too d--d slow (hic)." The Major is a man
of excellent natural capacity, the son of Hon. Thomas Ewing, of
Lancaster, and brother-in-law of W. T. Sherman, now a colonel or
brigadier-general in the army. W. T. Sherman is the brother of John
Sherman.

The news from Manassas is very bad. The disgraceful flight of our troops
will do us more injury, and is more to be regretted, than the loss of
fifty thousand men. It will impart new life, courage, and confidence to
our enemies. They will say to their troops: "You see how these
scoundrels run when you stand up to them."

29. Was slightly unwell this morning; but about noon accompanied General
Reynolds, Colonel Wagner, Colonel Heffron, and a squad of cavalry, up
the valley, and returned somewhat tired, but quite well.
Lieutenant-Colonel Owen was also of the party. He is fifty or fifty-five
years old, a thin, spare man, of very ordinary personal appearance, but
of fine scientific and literary attainments. For some years he was a
professor in a Southern military school. He has held the position of
State Geologist of Indiana, and is the son of the celebrated Robert J.
Owen, who founded the Communist Society at New Harmony, Indiana. Every
sprig, leaf, and stem on the route suggested to Colonel Owen something
to talk about, and he proved to be a very entertaining companion.

General Reynolds is a graduate of West Point, and has the theory of war
completely; but whether he has the broad, practical common sense, more
important than book knowledge, time will determine. As yet he is an
untried quantity, and, therefore, unknown.

30. About two o'clock P. M., for want of something better to do, I
climbed the high mountain in front of our camp. The side is as steep as
the roof of a gothic house. By taking hold of bushes and limbs of trees,
after a half hour of very hard work, I managed to get to the top,
completely exhausted. The outlook was magnificent. Tygart's valley, the
river winding through it, and a boundless succession of mountains and
ridges, all lay before me. My attention, however, was soon diverted from
the landscape to the huckleberries. They were abundant; and now and then
I stumbled on patches of delicious raspberries. I remained on the
mountain, resting and picking berries, until half-past four. I must be
in camp at six to post my pickets, but there was no occasion for haste.
So, after a time, I started leisurely down, not the way I had come up,
but, as I supposed, down the eastern slope, a way, apparently, not so
steep and difficult as the one by which I had ascended. I traveled on,
through vines and bushes, over fallen timber, and under great trees,
from which I could scarcely obtain a glimpse of the sky, until finally I
came to a mountain stream. I expected to find the road, not the stream,
and began to be a little uncertain as to my whereabouts. After
reflection, I concluded I would be most likely to reach camp by going up
the stream, and so started. Trees in many places had fallen across the
ravine, and my progress was neither easy nor rapid; but I pushed on as
best I could. I never knew so well before what a mountain stream was. I
scrambled over rocks and fallen trees, and through thickets of laurel,
until I was completely worn out. Lying down on the rocks, which in high
water formed part of the bed of the stream, I took a drink, looked at my
watch, and found it was half-past five. My pickets were to be posted at
six. Having but a half hour left, I started on. I could see no opening
yet. The stream twisted and turned, keeping no one general direction for
twenty rods, and hardly for twenty feet. It grew smaller, and as the
ravine narrowed the way became more difficult. Six o'clock had now come.
I could not see the sun, and only occasionally could get glimpses of the
sky. I began to realize that I was lost; but concluded finally that I
would climb the mountain again, and ascertain, if I could, in what
direction the camp lay. I have had some hard tramps, and have done some
hard work, but never labored half so hard in a whole week as I did for
one hour in getting up that mountain, pushing through vines, climbing
over logs, breaking through brush. Three or four times I lay down out of
breath, utterly exhausted, and thought I would proceed no further until
morning; but when I thought of my pickets, and reflected that General
Reynolds would not excuse a trip so foolish and untimely, I made new
efforts and pushed on. Finally I reached the summit of the mountain, but
found it not the one from which I had descended. Still higher mountains
were around me. The trees and bushes were so dense I could hardly see a
rod before me. It was now seven o'clock, an hour after the time when I
should have been in camp. I lay down, determined to remain all night;
but my clothing was so thin that I soon became chilly, and so got up and
started on again. Once I became entangled in a wilderness of grapevines
and briers, and had much difficulty in getting through them. It was now
half-past seven, and growing dark; but, fortunately, at this time, I
heard a dog bark, a good way off to the right, and, turning in that
direction, I came to a cow-path. Which end of it should I take? Either
end, I concluded, would be better than to remain where I was; so I
worked myself into a dog-trot, wound down around the side of the
mountain, and reached the road, a mile and a half south of camp, and
went to my quarters fast as my legs could carry me. I found my detail
for picket duty waiting and wondering what could so detain the officer
of the day.

31. The Fifteenth Indiana, Colonel Wagner, moved up the valley eight
miles.

The sickly months are now on us. Considerable dysentery among the men,
and many reported unfit for duty.

My limbs are stiff and sore from yesterday's exercise, but my adventure
proves to have been a lucky one. The mountain path I stumbled on was
unknown to us before, and we find, on inquiry, that it leads over the
ridges. The enemy might, by taking this path, follow it up during the
day, encamp almost within our picket lines without being discovered, and
then, under cover of night, or in the early morning, come down upon us
while we were in our beds. It will be picketed hereafter.

A private of Company E wrote home that he had killed two secessionists.
A Zanesville paper published the letter. When the boys of his company
read it they obtained spades, called on the soldier who had drawn so
heavily on the credulity of his friends, and told him they had come to
bury the dead. The poor fellow protested, apologized, and excused
himself as best he could, but all to no purpose. He is never likely to
hear the last of it.

I am reminded that when coming from Bellaire to Fetterman, a soldier
doing guard duty on the railroad said that a few mornings before he had
gone out, killed two secessionists who were just sitting down to
breakfast, and then eaten the breakfast himself.



AUGUST, 1861.


1. It is said the pickets of the Fourteenth Indiana and the enemy's
cavalry came in collision to-day, and that three of the latter were
killed.

It is now 9 P. M. Sergeants are calling the roll for the last time
to-night. In half an hour taps will be sounded and the lights
extinguished in every private's tent. The first call in the morning,
reveille, is at five; breakfast call, six; surgeon's call, seven; drill,
eight; recall, eleven; dinner, twelve; drill again at four; recall,
five; guard-mounting, half-past five; first call for dress-parade, six;
second call, half-past six; tattoo at nine, and taps at half-past. So
the day goes round.

Hardee for a month or more was a book of impenetrable mysteries. The
words conveyed no idea to my mind, and the movements described were
utterly beyond my comprehension; but now the whole thing comes almost
without study.

2. Jerrolaman went out this afternoon and picked nearly a peck of
blackberries. Berries of various kinds are very abundant. The fox-grape
is also found in great plenty, and as big as one's thumb.

The Indianians are great ramblers. Lieutenant Bell says they can be
traced all over the country, for they not only eat all the berries, but
nibble the thorns off the bushes.

General Reynolds told me, this evening, he thought it probable we would
be attacked soon. Have been distributing ammunition, forty rounds to the
man.

My black horse was missing this morning. Conway looked for him the
greater part of the day, and finally found him in possession of an
Indiana captain. It happened in this way: Captain Rupp, Thirteenth
Indiana, told his men he would give forty dollars for a _sesesh_ horse,
and they took my horse out of the pasture, delivered it to him, and got
the money. He rode the horse up the valley to Colonel Wagner's station,
and when he returned bragged considerably over his good luck; but about
dark Conway interviewed him on the subject, when a change came o'er the
spirit of his dream. Colonel Sullivan tells me the officers now talk to
Rupp about the fine points of his horse, ask to borrow him, and desire
to know when he proposes to ride again.

A little group of soldiers are sitting around a camp-fire, not far away,
entertaining each other with stories and otherwise. Just now one of them
lifts up his voice, and in a melancholy strain sings:

          Somebody ---- "is weeping
            For gallant Andy Gay,
           Who now in death lies sleeping
            On the field of Monterey."

While I write he strikes into another air, and these are the words as I
catch them:

          "Come back, come back, my purty fair maid!
           Ten thousand of my _jinture_ on you I will bestow
           If you'll consent to marry me;
           Oh, do not say me no."

But the maid is indifferent to _jintures_, and replies indignantly:

          "Oh, hold your tongue, captain, your words are all in vain;
           I have a handsome sweetheart now across the main,
           And if I do not find him I'll mourn continuali."

More of this interesting dialogue between the captain and the pretty
fair maid I can not catch.

The sky is clear, but the night very dark. I do not contemplate my ride
to the picket posts with any great degree of pleasure. A cowardly
sentinel is more likely to shoot at you than a brave one. The fears of
the former do not give him time to consider whether the person advancing
is friend or foe.

3. We hear of the enemy daily. Colonel Kimball, on the mountain, and
Colonel Wagner, up the valley, are both in hourly expectation of an
attack. The enemy, encouraged by his successes at Manassas, will
probably attempt to retrieve his losses in Western Virginia.

4. At one o'clock P. M. General Reynolds sent for me. Two of Colonel
Wagner's companies had been surrounded, and an attack on Wagner's
position expected to-night. The enemy reported three thousand strong.
He desired me to send half of my regiment and two of Loomis' guns to the
support of Wagner. I took six companies and started up the valley.
Reached Wagner's quarters at six o'clock. Brought neither tents nor
provisions, and to-night will turn in with the Indianians.

It is true that the enemy number three thousand; the main body being ten
or fifteen miles away. Their pickets and ours, however, are near each
other; but General Reynolds was misinformed as to two of Wagner's
companies. They had not been surrounded.

To-morrow Colonel Wagner and I will make a reconnoissance, and ascertain
if the rebels are ready to fight. Wagner has six hundred and fifty men
fit for duty, and I have four hundred. Besides these, we have three
pieces of artillery. Altogether, we expect to be able to hoe them a
pretty good row, if they should advance on us. Four of the enemy were
captured to-day. A company of cavalry is approaching. "Halt! who comes
there?" cries the sentinel. "Lieutenant Denny, without the countersign."
"All right," shouts Colonel Wagner, "let him come." I write with at
least four fleas hopping about on my legs.

5. To-day we felt our way up the valley eight miles, but did not reach
the rebels.

To-night our pickets were sure they heard firing off in the direction of
Kanawha. If so, Cox and Wise must be having a pleasant little
interchange of lead.

The chaplain of the Thirteenth Indiana is the counterpart of Scott's
Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst, or the fighting friar of the times of Robin
Hood. In answer to some request he has just said that he will "go to
thunder before doing it." The first time I saw this fighting parson was
at the burnt bridge near Huttonville. He had two revolvers and a hatchet
in his belt, and appeared more like a firebrand of war than a minister
of peace. I now hear the rough voice of a braggadocio captain in the
adjoining tent, who, if we may believe his own story, is the most
formidable man alive. His hair-breadth escapes are innumerable, and his
anxiety to get at the enemy is intense. Is it not ancient Pistol come
again to astonish the world by deeds of reckless daring?

We have sent out a scouting party, and hope to learn something more of
the rebels during the night. Wagner, Major Wood, Captain Abbott, and
others are having a game of whist.

6. Our camp equipage came up to-day, so that we are now in our own
tents.

Four of my companies are on picket, scattered up the valley for miles,
and half of the other two are doing guard duty in the neighborhood of
the camp. I do not, by any means, approve of throwing out such heavy
pickets and scattering our men so much. We are in the presence of a
force probably twice as large as our own, and should keep our troops
well in hand.

Our scouts have been busy; but, although they have brought in a few
prisoners, mostly farmers residing in the vicinity of the enemy's camp,
we have obtained but little information respecting the rebels. I intend
to send out a scouting party in the morning. Lieutenant Driscoll will
command it. He is a brave, and, I think, prudent officer, and will leave
camp at four o'clock, follow the road six miles, then take to the
mountains, and endeavor to reach a point where he can overlook the enemy
and estimate his strength.

7. The scouting party sent out this morning were conveyed by wagons six
miles up the valley, and were to take to the mountains, half a mile
beyond. I instructed Lieutenant Driscoll to exercise the utmost caution,
and not take his men further than he thought reasonably safe. Of course
perfect safety is not expected. Our object, however, is to get
information, not to give it by losing the squad.

At eleven o'clock a courier came in hot haste from the front, to inform
us that a flag of truce, borne by a Confederate major, with an escort of
six dragoons, was on the way to camp. Colonel Wagner and I rode out to
meet the party, and were introduced to Major Lee, the son, as I
subsequently ascertained, of General Robert E. Lee, of Virginia. The
Major informed us that his communication could only be imparted to our
General, and a courier was at once dispatched to Huttonville.

At four o'clock General Reynolds arrived, accompanied by Colonel
Sullivan and a company of cavalry. Wagner and I joined the General's
party, and all galloped to the outpost, to interview the Confederate
major. His letter contained a proposition to exchange prisoners captured
by the rebels at Manassas for those taken at Rich mountain. The General
appointed a day on which a definite answer should be returned, and Major
Lee, accompanied by Lieutenant-Colonel Owen and myself, rode to the
outlying picket station, where his escort had been halted and detained.

Major Lee is near my own age, a heavy set, but well-proportioned man,
somewhat inclined to boast, not overly profound, and thoroughly
impregnated with the idea that he is a Virginian and a Lee withal. As I
shook hands at parting with this scion of an illustrious house, he
complimented me by saying that he hoped soon to have the honor of
meeting me on the battle-field. I assured him that it would afford me
pleasure, and I should make all reasonable efforts to gratify him in
this regard. I did not desire to fight, of course, but I was bound not
to be excelled in the matter of knightly courtesy.

8. Major Wood, Fifteenth Indiana, thought he heard chopping last night,
and imagined that the enemy was engaged in cutting a road to our rear.

Lieutenant Driscoll and party returned to-day. They slept on the
mountains last night; were inside the enemy's picket lines; heard
reveille sounded this morning, but could not obtain a view of the camp.

Have just returned from a sixteen-mile ride, visiting picket posts. The
latter half of the ride was after nightfall. Found officers and men
vigilant and ready to meet an attack.

Obtained some fine huckleberries and blackberries on the mountain
to-day. Had a blackberry pie and pudding for dinner. Rather too much
happiness for one day; but then the crust of the pudding was tolerably
tough. The grass is a foot high in parts of my tent, where it has not
been trodden down, and the gentle grasshopper makes music all the day,
and likewise all the night.

Our fortifications are progressing slowly. If the enemy intends to
attack at all, he will probably do so before they are complete; and if
he does not, the fortifications will be of no use to us. But this is the
philosophy of a lazy man, and very similar to that of the Irishman who
did not put roof on his cabin: when it rained he could not, and in fair
weather he did not need it.

9. Pickets report firing, artillery and musketry, over the mountain, in
the direction of Kimball.

The enemy's scouts were within three miles of our camp this afternoon,
evidently looking for a path that would enable them to get to our rear.
Fifty men have just been sent in pursuit; but owing to a little
misunderstanding of instructions, I fear the expedition will be
fruitless. Colonel Wagner neither thinks clearly nor talks with any
degree of exactness. He has a loose, slip-shod, indefinite way with him,
that tends to confusion and leads to misunderstandings and trouble.

I have been over the mountain on our left, hunting up the paths and
familiarizing myself with the ground, so as to be ready to defeat any
effort that may be made to turn our flank. Colonel Owen has been
investigating the mountain on our right. The Colonel is a good thinker,
an excellent conversationalist, and a very learned man. Geology is his
darling, and he keeps one eye on the enemy, and the other on the rocks.

10. My tent is on the bank of the Valley river. The water, clear as
crystal, as it hurries on over the rocks, keeps up a continuous murmur.

There will be a storm to-night. The sky is very dark, the wind rising,
and every few minutes a vivid flash of lightning illuminates the valley,
and the thunder rolls off among the mountains with a rumbling, echoing
noise, like that which the gods might make in putting a hundred trains
of celestial artillery in position.

11. Lieutenant Bowen, of topographical engineers, and myself, with ten
men, carrying axes and guns, started up the mountain at seven o'clock
this morning, followed a path to the crest, or dividing ridge, and
felled trees to obstruct the way as much as possible. Returned to camp
for dinner.

During the afternoon Lieutenant W. O. Merrill, Lieutenant Bowen, and I,
ascended the mountain again by a new route. After reaching the crest, we
endeavored to find the path which Lieutenant Bowen and I had traveled
over in the morning, but were unable to do so. We continued our search
until it became quite dark, when the two engineers, as well as myself,
became utterly bewildered. Finally, Lieutenant Merrill took out his
pocket compass, and said the camp was in that direction, pointing with
his hand. I insisted he was wrong; that he would not reach camp by
going that way. He insisted that he would, and must be governed by some
general principles, and so started off on his own hook, leaving us to
pursue our own course. Finally Bowen lost confidence in me, said I was
not going in the right direction at all, and insisted that we should
turn squarely around, and go the opposite way. At last I yielded with
many misgivings, and allowed him to lead. After going down a thousand
feet or more, we found ourselves in a ravine, through which a small
stream of water flowed. Following this, we finally reached the valley.
We knew now exactly where we were, and by wading the river reached the
road, and so got to camp at nine o'clock at night.

Merrill, who was governed by general principles, failed to strike the
camp directly, strayed three or four miles to the right of it, came down
in Stewart's run valley, and did not reach camp until about midnight.

On our trip to-day, we found a bear trap, made of heavy logs, the lid
arranged to fall when the bear entered and touched the bait.

12. This is the fourth day that Captain Cunard's company has been lying
in the woods, three miles from camp, guarding an important road,
although a very rough and rugged one. Companies upon duty like this,
remain at their posts day and night, good weather and bad, without any
shelter, except that afforded by the trees, or by little booths
constructed of logs and branches. From the main station, where the
captain remains, sub-pickets are sent out in charge of sergeants and
corporals, and these often make little houses of logs, which they cover
with cedar boughs or branches of laurel, and denominate forts. In the
wilderness, to-day, I stumbled upon Fort Stiner, the head-quarters of a
sub-picket commanded by Corporal William Stiner, of the Third. The
Corporal and such of his men as were off duty, were sitting about a
fire, heating coffee and roasting slices of fat pork, preparing thus the
noonday meal.

13. At noon Colonel Marrow, Major Keifer, and I, took dinner with
Esquire Stalnaker, an old-style man, born fifty years ago in the log
house where he now lives. Two spinning-wheels were in the best room, and
rattled away with a music which carried me back to the pioneer days of
Ohio. A little girl of five or six years stole up to the wheel when the
mother's back was turned, and tried her skill on a roll. How proud and
delighted she was when she had spun the wool into a long, uneven thread,
and secured it safely on the spindle. Surely, the child of the palace,
reared in the lap of luxury and with her hands in the mother's
jewel-box, could not have been happier or more triumphant in her
bearing.

These West Virginians are uncultivated, uneducated and rough, and need
the common school to civilize and modernize them. Many have never seen a
railroad, and the telegraph is to them an incomprehensible mystery.

Governor Dennison has appointed a Mr. John G. Mitchell, of Columbus,
adjutant of the Third.

14. Privates Vincent and Watson, sentinels of a sub-picket, under
command of Corporal Stiner, discovered a man stealing through the woods,
and halted him. He professed to be a farm hand; said his employer had a
mountain farm not far away, where he pastured cattle. A two-year-old
steer had strayed off, and he was looking for him. His clothes were
fearfully torn by brush and briars. His hands and face were scratched by
thorns. He had taken off his boots to relieve his swollen feet, and was
carrying them in his hands. Imitating the language and manners of an
uneducated West Virginian, he asked the sentinel if he "had seed
anything of a red steer." The sentinel had not. After continuing the
conversation for a time, he finally said: "Well, I must be a goin'; it
is a gettin' late, and I am durned feared I won't git back to the farm
afore night. Good day." "Hold on," said the sentinel; "better go and see
the Captain." "O, no; don't want to trouble him; it is not likely he has
seed the steer, and it's a gettin' late." "Come right along," replied
the sentinel, bringing his gun down; "the Captain will not mind being
troubled; in fact, I am instructed to take such men as you to him."

Captain Cunard questioned the prisoner closely, asked whom he worked
for, how much he was getting a month for his services, and, finally,
pointing to the long-legged military boots which he was still holding in
his hands, asked how much they cost. "Fifteen dollars," replied the
prisoner. "Fifteen dollars! Is not that rather more than a farm hand who
gets but twelve dollars a month can afford to pay for boots?" inquired
the Captain. "Well, the fact is, boots is a gettin' high since the war,
as well as every thing else." But Captain Cunard was not satisfied. The
prisoner was not well up in the character he had undertaken to play, and
was told that he must go to head-quarters. Finding that he was caught,
he at once threw off the mask, and confessed that he was Captain J. A.
De Lagniel, formerly of the regular army, but now in the Confederate
service. Wounded at the battle of Rich mountain, he had been secreted at
a farm-house near Beverly until able to travel, and was now trying to
get around our pickets and reach the rebel army. He had been in the
mountains five days and four nights. The provisions with which he
started, and which consisted of a little bag of biscuit, had become
moldy. He thought, from the distance traveled, that he must be beyond
our lines and out of danger.

De Lagniel is an educated man, and his wife and friends believe him to
have been killed at Rich mountain. He speaks in high terms of Captain
Cunard, and says, when the latter began to question him, he soon found
it was useless to play Major Andre, for Paulding was before him, too
sharp to be deceived and too honest to be bribed. When De Lagniel was
brought into camp he was wet and shivering, weak, and thoroughly broken
down by starvation, cold, exposure, and fatigue. The officers supplied
him with the clothing necessary to make him comfortable.

15. I have a hundred axmen in my charge, felling timber on the
mountain, and constructing rough breastworks to protect our left flank.

General Reynolds came up to-day to see De Lagniel. They are old
acquaintances, were at West Point together, and know each other like
brothers.

The irrepressible Corporal Casey, who, in fact, had nothing whatever to
do with the capture of De Lagniel, is now surrounded by a little group
of soldiers. He is talking to them about the prisoner, who, since it is
known that he is an acquaintance of General Reynolds, has become a
person of great importance in the camp. The Corporal speaks in the
broadest Irish brogue, and is telling his hearers that he knew the
fellow was a _sesesh_ at once; that he leveled his musket at him and
towld him to halt; that if he hadn't marched straight up to him he would
have put a minnie ball through his heart; that he had his gun cocked and
his finger on the trigger, and was a mind to shoot him anyway. Then he
tells how he propounded this and that question, which confused the
prisoner, and finally concludes by saying that De Lagniel might be d--d
thankful indade that he escaped with his life.

The Corporal is the best-known man in the regiment. He prides himself
greatly on the Middle Fork "skrimage." A day or two after that affair,
and at a time when whisky was so scarce that it was worth its weight in
gold, some officers called the Corporal up and asked him to give them an
account of the "skrimage." Before he entered upon the subject, it was
suggested that Captain Dubois, who had the little whisky there was in
the party, should give him a taste to loosen his tongue. The Corporal,
nothing loth, took the flask, and, raising it to his mouth, emptied it,
to the utter dismay of the Captain and his friends. The dhrap had the
effect desired. The Corporal described, with great particularity, his
manner of going into action, dwelt with much emphasis on the
hand-to-hand encounters, the thrusts, the parries, the final clubbing of
the musket, and the utter discomfiture and mortal wounding of his
antagonist. In fact by this time there were two of them; and finally, as
the fight progressed, a dozen or more bounced down on him. It was
lively! There was no time for the loading of guns. Whack, thump, crack!
The head of one was broken, another lay dying of a bayonet thrust, and
still another had perished under the sledge-hammer blow of his fist. The
ground was covered now with the slain. He stood knee-deep in secesh
blood; but a bugle sounded away off on the hills, and the d--d
scoundrels who were able to get away ran off as fast as their legs could
carry them. Had they stood up like men he would have destroyed the whole
regiment; for, you see, he was just getting his hand in. "But,
Corporal," inquired Captain Hunter, "what were the other soldiers of
your company doing all this time?" "Bless your sowl, Captain, and do you
think I had nothing to do but to watch the boys? Be jabers, it was a day
when every man had to look after himself."

16. The opinion seems to be growing that the rebels do not intend to
attack us. They have put it off too long.

A scouting party will start out in the morning, under the guidance of
"old Leather Breeches," a primitive West Virginian, who has spent his
life in the mountains. His right name is Bennett. He wears an antiquated
pair of buckskin pantaloons, and has a cabin-home on the mountain,
twelve miles away.

A tambourine is being played near by, and Fox, with a heart much lighter
than his complexion, is indulging in a double shuffle.

There are many snakes in the mountains: rattlesnakes, copperheads,
blacksnakes, and almost every other variety of the snake kind; in short,
the boys have snake on the brain. To-day one of the choppers made a
sudden grab for his trouser leg; a snake was crawling up. He held the
loathsome reptile tightly by the head and body, and was fearfully
agitated. A comrade slit down the leg of the pantaloon with a knife,
when lo! an innocent little roll of red flannel was discovered.

The boys are very liberal in the bestowal of titles. Colonel Hogseye is
indebted to them for his commission. The Colonel commands an ax just
now. Ordinarily he carries a musket, sleeps and dines with his
subordinates, and is not above traveling on foot.

Fox's real name, I ascertained lately, is William Washington. His
brother, now in the service of the surgeon, is called Handsome, and
Colonel Marrow's servant is known by the boys as the Bay Nigger.

17. Was awakened this morning at one o'clock, by a soldier in search of
a surgeon. One of our pickets had been wounded. The post was on the
river bank. The sentinel saw a man approaching on the opposite side of
the river, challenged, and saw him level his gun. Both fired. The
sentinel was wounded in the leg by a small squirrel bullet. The other
man was evidently wounded, for after it became light enough he was
traced half a mile by blood on the ground, weeds, and leaves. The
surgeon is of the opinion that the ball struck his left arm. From
information obtained this morning, it is believed this man is secreted
not many miles away. A party of ten has been sent to look for him.

This is by far the pleasantest camp we have ever had. The river runs its
whole length. The hospital and surgeons' tents are located on a very
pretty little island, a quiet, retired spot, festooned with vines, in
the shadow of great trees, and carpeted with moss soft and velvety as
the best of Brussels.

18. The name of our camp is properly Elk Water, not Elk Fork. The little
stream which comes down to the river, from which the camp derives its
name, is called Elk Water, because tradition affirms that in early days
the elk frequented the little valley through which it runs.

The fog has been going up from the mountains, and the rain coming down
in the valley. The river roars a little louder than usual, and its water
is a little less clear.

The party sent in pursuit of the bushwhacker has returned. Found no
one.

Two men were seen this evening, armed with rifles, prowling among the
bushes near the place where the affair of last night occurred. They were
fired upon, but escaped.

An accident, which particularly interests my old company, occurred a few
minutes ago. John Heskett, Jeff Long, and four or five other men, were
detailed from Company I for picket duty. Heskett and Long are intimate
friends, and were playing together, the one with a knife and the other
with a pocket pistol. The pistol was discharged accidentally, and the
ball struck Heskett in the neck, inflicting a serious wound, but whether
fatal or not the surgeon can not yet tell. The affair has cast a shadow
over the company. Young Heskett bears himself bravely. Long is
inconsolable, and begs the boys to shoot him.

20. These mountain streams are unreliable. We had come to regard the one
on which we are encamped as a quiet, orderly little river, that would be
good enough to notify us when it proposed to swell out and overflow the
adjacent country. In fact we had bragged about it, made all sorts of
complimentary mention of it, put our tents on its margin, and allowed it
to encircle our sick and wounded; but we have now lost all confidence in
it. Yesterday, about noon, it began to rise. It had been raining, and we
thought it natural enough that the waters should increase a little. At
four o'clock it had swelled very considerably, but still kept within its
bed of rock and gravel, and we admired it all the more for the energy
displayed in hurrying along branches, logs, and sometimes whole trees.
At six o'clock we found it was rising at the rate of one foot per hour,
and that the water had now crept to within a few feet of the hospital
tent, in which lay two wounded and a dozen or more of sick. Dr. McMeens
became alarmed and called for help. Thirty or more boys stripped, swam
to the island, and removed the hospital to higher ground--to the highest
ground, in fact, which the island afforded. The boys returned, and we
felt safe. At seven o'clock, however, we found the river still rising
rapidly. It covered nearly the whole island. Logs, brush, green trees,
and all manner of drift went sweeping by at tremendous speed, and the
water rushed over land which had been dry half an hour before, with
apparently as strong a current as that in the channel. We knew then that
the sick and wounded were in danger. How to rescue them was now the
question. A raft was suggested; but a raft could not be controlled in
such a current, and if it went to pieces or was hurried away, the sick
and wounded must drown. Fortunately a better way was suggested; getting
into a wagon, I ordered the driver to go above some distance, so that we
could move with the current, and then ford the stream. After many
difficulties, occasioned mainly by floating logs and driftwood, and
swimming the horses part of the way, we succeeded in getting over. I saw
it was impossible to carry the sick back, and that there was but one way
to render them secure. I had the horses unhitched, and told the driver
to swim them back and bring over two or three more wagons. Two more
finally reached me, and one team, in attempting to cross, was carried
down stream and drowned. I had the three wagons placed on the highest
point I could find, then chained together and staked securely to the
ground. Over the boxes of two of these we rolled the hospital tent, and
on this placed the sick and wounded, just as the water was creeping upon
us. On the third wagon we put the hospital stores. It was now quite
dark. Not more than four feet square of dry land remained of all our
beautiful island; and the river was still rising. We watched the water
with much anxiety. At ten o'clock it reached the wagon hubs, and covered
every foot of the ground; but soon after we were pleased to see that it
began to go down a little. Those of us who could not get into the wagons
had climbed the trees. At one o'clock it commenced to rain again, when
we managed to hoist a tent over the sick. At two o'clock the long-roll,
the signal for battle, was beaten in camp, and we could just hear, above
the roar of the water, the noise made by the men as they hurriedly
turned out and fell into line.

It will not do, however, to conclude that this was altogether a night of
terrors. It was, in fact, not so very disagreeable after all. There was
a by-play going on much of the time, which served to illuminate the
thick darkness, and divert our minds from the gloomier aspects of the
scene. Smith, the teamster who brought me across, had returned to the
mainland with the horses, and then swam back to the island. By midnight
he had become very drunk. One of the hospital attendants was very far
gone in his cups, also. These two gentlemen did not seem to get along
amicably; in fact, they kept up a fusillade of words all night, and so
kept us awake. The teamster insisted that the hospital attendant should
address him as Mr. Smith. The Smith family, he argued, was of the
highest respectability, and being an honored member of that family, he
would permit no man under the rank of a Major-General to call him Jake.
George McClellan sometimes addressed him by his christian name; but then
George and he were Cincinnatians, old neighbors, and intimate personal
friends, and, of course, took liberties with each other. This could not
justify one who carried out pukes and slop-buckets from a field hospital
in calling him Jake, or even Jacob.

Mr. Smith's allusions to the hospital attendant were not received by
that gentleman in the most amiable spirit. He grew profane, and insisted
that he was not only as good a man as Smith, but a much better one, and
he dared the bloviating mule scrubber to get down off his perch and
stand up before him like a man. But Jake's temper remained unruffled,
and along toward morning, in a voice more remarkable for strength than
melody, he favored us with a song:

          "Ho! gif ghlass uf goodt lauger du me;
             Du mine fadter, mine modter, mine vife:
           Der day's vork vos done, undt we'll see
             Vot bleasures der vos un dis life,

           Undt ve sit us aroundt mit der table,
             Undt ve speak uf der oldt, oldt time,
           Ven we lif un dot house mit der gable,
             Un der vine-cladt banks uf der Rhine;

           Undt mine fadter, his voice vos a quiver,
             Undt mine modter, her eyes vos un tears,
           Ash da dthot uf dot home un der river,
             Undt kindt friendst uf earlier years;

           Undt I saidt du mine fadter be cheerie,
             Du mine modter not longer lookt sadt,
           Here's a blace undt a rest for der weary,
             Und ledt us eat, drink, undt be gladt.

           So idt ever vos cheerful mitin;
             Vot dtho' idt be stormy mitoudt,
           Vot care I vor der vorld undt idts din,
             Ven dose I luf best vos about;

           So libft up your ghlass, mine modter,
             Undt libft up yours, Gretchen, my dear,
           Undt libft up your lauger, mine fadter,
             Undt drink du long life und good cheer."

21. Francis Union was shot and killed by one of our own sentinels last
night, the ball entering just under the nose. This resulted from the
cowardice of the soldier who fired. He was afraid to give the necessary
challenge: four simple words: "Halt! who comes there?" would have saved
a life. This illustrates the danger there is in visiting pickets at
night. If the sentinel halts the man, the man may fire at the sentinel.
The latter, if timid, therefore makes sure of the first shot, and does
not challenge. We buried the dead soldier with all the honors due one of
his rank, on a beautiful hill in the rear of our fortifications. He was
with me on the mountain chopping, a few days ago, strong, healthy,
vigorous, and young. No more hard work for him!

23. With Wagner, Merrill, and Bowen, I rode up the mountain on our left
this afternoon. We had one field-glass and two spy-glasses, and obtained
a magnificent view of the surrounding country. Here and there we could
see a cultivated spot or grazing farm on the top of the mountain; but
more frequently these were on the slopes. We descried one house with our
glasses on the very tiptop of Rich, and so far away that it seemed no
larger than a tent. How the man of the house gets up to his airy height
and gets down again puzzles us. He has the first gush of the sunshine in
the morning, and the latest gleam in the evening. Very often, indeed, he
must look down upon the clouds, and, if he has a tender heart, pity the
poor devils in the valley who are being rained on continually. Is it a
pleasant home? Has he wife and children in that mountain nest? Is he a
man of dogs and guns, who spends his years in the mountains and glens
hunting for bear and deer? May it not be the baronial castle of "old
Leather Breeches" himself?

Away off to the east a cloud, black and heavy, is resting on a peak of
the Cheat. Around it the mountain is glowing in the summer sun, and
appears soft and green. A gauze of shimmering blue mantles the crest,
darkens in the coves, and becomes quite black in the gorges. The rugged
rocks and scraggy trees, if there be any, are at this distance
invisible, and nothing is seen but what delights the eye and quickens
the imagination.

We see by the papers that Ohio is preparing to organize a grand Union
party, with a platform on which both Republicans and Democrats can
stand. I am glad of this. There should be but one party in the North,
and that party willing to make all sacrifices for the Union.

24. Last night a sentinel on one of the picket posts halted a stump and
demanded the countersign. No response being made, he fired. The entire
Fifteenth Indiana sprang to arms; the cannoniers gathered about their
guns, and a thousand eyes peered into the darkness to get a glimpse of
the approaching enemy. But the stump, evidently intimidated by the first
shot, did not advance, and so the Hoosiers returned again to their
couches, to dream, doubtless, of the subject of a song very common now
in camp, to wit:

          "Old Governor Wise,
           With his goggle eyes."

25. The Twenty-third Ohio, Colonel Scammon, will be here to-morrow.
Stanley Matthews is the lieutenant-colonel of this regiment, and my old
friend, Rutherford B. Hayes, the major. The latter is an accomplished
gentleman, graduate of Harvard Law School, and will, it is said, in all
probability, succeed Gurley in Congress. Matthews has a fine reputation
as a speaker and lawyer, and, I have been told, is the most promising
young man in Ohio. Scammon is a West Pointer.

26. Five companies of the Twenty-third Ohio and five companies of the
Ninth Ohio arrived to-day, and are encamped in a maple grove about a
mile below us. A detachment of cavalry came up also, and is quartered
near. Other regiments are coming. It is said the larger portion of the
troops in West Virginia are tending in this direction; but on what
particular point it is proposed to concentrate them rumor saith not.

General McClellan did not go far enough at first. After the defeat of
Pegram, at Rich mountain, and Garnett, at Laurel Hill, the Southern army
of this section was utterly demoralized. It scattered, and the men
composing it, who were not captured, fled, terror stricken, to their
homes. We could have marched to Staunton without opposition, and taken
possession of the very strongholds the enemy is now fortifying against
us. If in our advanced position supplies could not have been obtained
from the North, the army might have subsisted off the country. Thus, by
pushing vigorously forward, we could have divided the enemy's forces,
and thus saved our army in the East from humiliating defeat. This is the
way it looks to me; but, after all, there may have been a thousand good
reasons for remaining here, of which I know nothing. One thing, however,
is, I think, very evident: a successful army, elated with victory, and
eager to advance, is not likely to be defeated by a dispirited opponent.
One-fourth, at least, of the strength of this army disappeared when it
heard of the rebel triumphs on the Potomac.

       *       *       *       *       *

Latter part of August the writer was sent to Ohio for recruits for the
regiment, and did not return to camp until the middle of September.



SEPTEMBER 1861.


19. Reached camp yesterday at noon. My recruits arrived to-day.

The enemy was here in my absence in strength and majesty, and repeated,
with a slight variation, the grand exploit of the King of France, by

          "Marching up the hill with twenty thousand men,
           And straightway marching down again."

There was lively skirmishing for a few days, and hot work expected; but,
for reasons unknown to us, the enemy retired precipitately.

On Sunday morning last fifty men of the Sixth Ohio, when on picket, were
surprised and captured. My friend, Lieutenant Merrill, fell into the
hands of the enemy, and is now probably on his way to Castle Pinckney.
Further than this our rebellious friends did us no damage. Our men, at
this point, killed Colonel Washington, wounded a few others, and further
than this inflicted but little injury upon the enemy. The country people
near whom the rebels encamped say they got to fighting among themselves.
The North Carolinians were determined to go home, and regiments from
other States claimed that their term of service had expired, and wanted
to leave. I am glad they did, and trust they may go home, hang up their
guns, and go to work like sensible people, for then I could do the same.

23. This afternoon I rode by a mountain path to a log cabin in which a
half dozen wounded Tennesseeans are lying. One poor fellow had his leg
amputated yesterday, and was very feeble. One had been struck by a ball
on the head and a buckshot in the lungs. Two boys were but slightly
wounded, and were in good spirits. To one of these--a jovial, pleasant
boy--Dr. Seyes said, good-humoredly: "You need have no fears of dying
from a gunshot; you are too big a devil, and were born to be hung."
Colonel Marrow sought to question this same fellow in regard to the
strength of the enemy, when the boy said: "Are you a commissioned
officer?" "Yes," replied Marrow. "Then," returned he, "you ought to know
that a private soldier don't know anything."

In returning to camp, we followed a path which led to a place where a
regiment of the rebels had encamped one night. They had evidently become
panic-stricken and left in hot haste. The woods were strewn with
knapsacks, blankets, and canteens.

The ride was a pleasant one. The path, first wild and rugged, finally
led to a charming little valley, through which Beckey's creek hurries
down to the river. Leaving this, we traveled up the side of a ravine,
through which a little stream fretted and fumed, and dashed into spray
against slimy rocks, and then gathered itself up for another charge, and
so pushed gallantly on toward the valley and the sunshine.

What a glorious scene! The sky filled with stars; the rising moon; two
mountain walls so high, apparently, that one might step from them into
heaven; the rapid river, the thousand white tents dotting the valley,
the camp fires, the shadowy forms of soldiers; in short, just enough of
heaven and earth visible to put one's fancy on the gallop. The boys are
in groups about their fires. The voice of the troubadour is heard. It is
a pleasant song that he sings, and I catch part of it.

          "The minstrel's returned from the war,
             With spirits as buoyant as air,
           And thus on the tuneful guitar
             He sings in the bower of the fair:
           The noise of the battle is over;
             The bugle no more calls to arms;
           A soldier no more, but a lover,
             I kneel to the power of thy charms.
           Sweet lady, dear lady, I'm thine;
             I bend to the magic of beauty,
           Though the banner and helmet are mine,
             Yet love calls the soldier to duty."

24. Our Indiana friends are providing for the winter by laying in a
stock of household furniture at very much less than its original cost,
and without even consulting the owners. It is probable that our Ohio
boys steal occasionally, but they certainly do not prosecute the
business openly and courageously.

26. The Thirteenth Indiana, Sixth Ohio, and two pieces of artillery went
up the valley at noon, to feel the enemy. It rained during the
afternoon, and since nightfall has poured down in torrents. The poor
fellows who are now trudging along in the darkness and storm, will
think, doubtless, of home and warm beds. It requires a pure article of
patriotism, and a large quantity of it, to make one oblivious for months
at a time of all the comforts of civil life.

This is the day designated by the President for fasting and prayer.
Parson Strong held service in the regiment, and the Rev. Mr. Reed, of
Zanesville, Ohio, delivered a very eloquent exhortation. I trust the
supplications of the Church and the people may have effect, and bring
that Higher Power to our assistance which hitherto has apparently not
been with our arms especially.

27. To-night almost the entire valley is inundated. Many tents are waist
high in water, and where others stood this morning the water is ten feet
deep. Two men of the Sixth Ohio are reported drowned. The water got
around them before they became aware of it, and in endeavoring to escape
they were swept down the stream and lost. The river seems to stretch
from the base of one mountain to the other, and the whole valley is one
wild scene of excitement. Wherever a spot of dry ground can be found,
huge log fires are burning, and men by the dozen are grouped around
them, anxiously watching the water and discussing the situation. Tents
have been hastily pitched on the hills, and camp fires, each with its
group of men, are blazing in many places along the side of the mountain.
The rain has fallen steadily all day.

28. The Thirteenth Indiana and Sixth Ohio returned. The reconnoissance
was unsuccessful, the weather being unfavorable.



OCTOBER, 1861.


2. Our camp is almost deserted. The tents of eight regiments dot the
valley; but those of two regiments and a half only are occupied. The
Hoosiers have all gone to Cheat mountain summit. They propose to steal
upon the enemy during the night, take him by surprise, and thrash him
thoroughly. I pray they may be successful, for since Rich mountain our
army has done nothing worthy of a paragraph. Rosecrans' affair at
Carnifex was a barren thing; certainly no battle and no victory, and the
operations in this vicinity have at no time risen to the dignity of a
skirmish.

Captain McDougal, with nearly one hundred men and three days'
provisions, started up the valley this morning, with instructions to go
in sight of the enemy, the object being to lead the latter to suppose
the advance guard of our army is before him. By this device it is
expected to keep the enemy in our front from going to the assistance of
the rebels now threatening Kimball.

3. To-night, half an hour ago, received a dispatch from the top of
Cheat, which reads as follows:

"All back. Made a very interesting reconnoissance. Killed a large
number of the enemy. Very small loss on our side.   J. J. REYNOLDS,
                                                  Brigadier-General."

Why, when the battle was progressing so advantageously for our side, did
they not go on? This, then, is the result of the grand demonstration on
the other side of the mountain.

McDougal's company returned, and report the enemy fallen back.

The frost has touched the foliage, and the mountain peaks look like
mammoth bouquets; green, red, yellow, and every modification of these
colors appear mingled in every possible fanciful and tasteful way.

Another dispatch has just come from the top of Cheat, written, I doubt
not, after the Indianians had returned to camp and drawn their whisky
ration. It sounds bigger than the first. I copy it:

"Found the rebels drawn up in line of battle one mile outside of their
fortifications, drove them back to their intrenchments, and continued
the fight four hours. Ten of our men wounded and ten killed. Two or
three hundred of the enemy killed."

If it be true that so many of the rebels were killed, it is probable
that two thousand at least were wounded; and when three hundred are
killed and two thousand wounded, out of an army of twelve or fifteen
hundred men, the business is done up very thoroughly. The dispatch which
went to Richmond to-night, I have no doubt, stated that "the Federals
attacked in great force, outnumbering us two or three to one, and after
a terrific engagement, lasting five hours, they were repulsed at all
points with great slaughter. Our loss one killed and five wounded.
Federal loss, five hundred killed and twenty-five hundred wounded." Thus
are victories won and histories made. Verily the pen is mightier than
the sword.

4. The Indianians have been returning from the summit all day,
straggling along in squads of from three to a full company.

The men are tired, and the camp is quiet as a house. Six thousand are
sleeping away a small portion of their three weary years of military
service. This time stretches out before them, a broad, unknown, and
extra-hazardous sea, with promise of some smooth sailing, but many days
and nights of heavy winds and waves, in which some--how many!--will be
carried down.

Their thoughts have now forced the sentinel lines, leaped the mountains,
jumped the rivers, hastened home, and are lingering about the old
fireside, looking in at the cupboard, and hovering over faces and places
that have been growing dearer to them every day for the last five
months. Old-fashioned places, tame and uninteresting then, but now how
loved! And as for the faces, they are those of mothers, wives, and
sweethearts, around which are entwined the tenderest of memories. But at
daybreak, when reveille is sounded, these wanderers must come trooping
back again in time for "hard-tack" and double quick.

5. Some of the Indiana regiments are utterly beyond discipline. The men
are good, stout, hearty, intelligent fellows, and will make excellent
soldiers; but they have now no regard for their officers, and, as a
rule, do as they please. They came straggling back yesterday from the
top of Cheat unofficered, and in the most unsoldierly manner. As one of
these stray Indianians was coming into camp, he saw a snake in the river
and cocked his gun. He was near the quarters of the Sixth Ohio, and many
men were on the opposite side of the stream, among them a lieutenant,
who called to the Indianian and begged him for God's sake not to fire;
but the latter, unmindful of what was said, blazed away. The ball,
striking the water, glanced and hit the lieutenant in the breast,
killing him almost instantly.

6. The Third and Sixth Ohio, with Loomis' battery, left camp at
half-past three in the afternoon, and took the Huntersville turnpike for
Big Springs, where Lee's army has been encamped for some months. At nine
o'clock we reached Logan's Mill, where the column halted for the night.
It had rained heavily for some hours, and was still raining. The boys
went into camp thoroughly wet, and very hungry and tired; but they soon
had a hundred fires kindled, and, gathering around these, prepared and
ate supper.

I never looked upon a wilder or more interesting scene. The valley is
blazing with camp-fires; the men flit around them like shadows. Now some
indomitable spirit, determined that neither rain nor weather shall get
him down, strikes up:

   "Oh! say, can you see by the dawn's early light,
    What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,
    Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
    O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?"

A hundred voices join in, and the very mountains, which loom up in the
fire-light like great walls, whose tops are lost in the darkness,
resound with a rude melody befitting so wild a night and so wild a
scene. But the songs are not all patriotic. Love and fun make
contribution also, and a voice, which may be that of the invincible
Irishman, Corporal Casey, sings:

          "'T was a windy night, about two o'clock in the morning,
           An Irish lad, so tight, all the wind and weather scorning,
           At Judy Callaghan's door, sitting upon the paling,
           His love tale he did pour, and this is part of his wailing:
           Only say you'll be mistress Brallaghan;
           Don't say nay, charming Judy Callaghan."

A score of voices pick up the chorus, and the hills and mountains seem
to join in the Corporal's appeal to the charming Judy:

          "Only say you'll be mistress Brallaghan;
           Don't say nay, charming Judy Callaghan."

Lieutenant Root is in command of Loomis' battery. Just before reaching
Logan's one of his provision wagons tumbled down a precipice, severely
injuring three men and breaking the wagon in pieces.

7. Left Logan's mill before the sun was up. The rain continues, and the
mud is deep. At eleven o'clock we reached what is known as Marshall's
store, near which, until recently, the enemy had a pretty large camp.
Halted at the place half an hour, and then moved four miles further on,
where we found the roads impassable for our artillery and
transportation.

Learning that the enemy had abandoned Big Springs and fallen back to
Huntersville, the soldiers were permitted to break ranks, while Colonel
Marrow and Major Keifer, with a company of cavalry, rode forward to the
Springs. Colonel Nick Anderson, Adjutant Mitchell and I followed. We
found on the road evidence of the recent presence of a very large force.
Quite a number of wagons had been left behind. Many tents had been
ripped, cut to pieces, or burned, so as to render them worthless. A
large number of beef hides were strung along the road. One wagon, loaded
with muskets, had been destroyed. All of which showed, simply, that
before the rebels abandoned the place the roads had become so bad that
they could not carry off their baggage.

The object of the expedition being now accomplished, we started back at
three o'clock in the afternoon, and encamped for the night at Marshall's
store.

8. Resumed the march early, found the river waist high, and current
swift; but the men all got over safely, and we reached camp at one
o'clock.

The Third has been assigned to a new brigade, to be commanded by
Brigadier-General Dumont, of Indiana.

The paymaster has come at last.

Willis, my new servant, is a colored gentleman of much experience and
varied accomplishments. He has been a barber on a Mississippi river
steamboat, and a daguerreian artist. He knows much of the South, and
manipulates a fiddle with wonderful skill. He is enlivening the hours
now with his violin.

Oblivious to rain, mud, and the monotony of the camp, my thoughts are
carried by the music to other and pleasanter scenes; to the cottage
home, to wife and children, to a time still further away when we had no
children, when we were making the preliminary arrangements for starting
in the world together, when her cheeks were ruddier than now, when
wealth and fame and happiness seemed lying just before me, ready to be
gathered in, and farther away still, to a gentle, blue-eyed mother--now
long gone--teaching her child to lisp his first simple prayer.

9. The day has been clear. The mountains, decorated by the artistic
fingers of Jack Frost, loom up in the sunshine like magnificent,
highly-colored, and beautiful pictures.

The night is grand. The moon, a crescent, now rests for a moment on the
highest peak of the Cheat, and by its light suggests, rather than
reveals, the outline of hill, valley, cove and mountain.

The boys are wide awake and merry. The fair weather has put new spirit
in them all, and possibly the presence of the paymaster has contributed
somewhat to the good feeling which prevails.

Hark! This from the company quarters:

          "Her golden hair in ringlets fair;
           Her eyes like diamonds shining;
           Her slender waist, her carriage chaste,
           Left me, poor soul, a pining.
           But let the night be e'er so dark,
           Or e'er so wet and rainy,
           I will return safe back again
           To the girl I left behind me."

From another quarter, in the rich brogue of the Celt, we have:

          "Did you hear of the widow Malone,
                    Ohone!
           Who lived in the town of Athlone,
                    Alone?
           Oh! she melted the hearts
           Of the swains in those parts;
           So lovely the widow Malone,
                    Ohone!
           So lovely the widow Malone."

10. Mr. Strong, the chaplain, has a prayer meeting in the adjoining
tent. His prayers and exhortations fill me with an almost irresistible
inclination to close my eyes and shut out the vanities, cares, and
vexations of the world. Parson Strong is dull, but he is very
industrious, and on secular days devotes his physical and mental powers
to the work of tanning three sheepskins and a calf's hide. On every
fair day he has the skins strung on a pole before his tent to get the
sun. He combs the wool to get it clean, and takes especial delight in
rubbing the hides to make them soft and pliable. I told the parson the
other day that I could not have the utmost confidence in a shepherd who
took so much pleasure in tanning hides.

While Parson Strong and a devoted few are singing the songs of Zion, the
boys are having cotillion parties in other parts of the camp. On the
parade ground of one company Willis is officiating as musician, and the
gentlemen go through "honors to partners" and "circle all" with
apparently as much pleasure as if their partners had pink cheeks, white
slippers, and dresses looped up with rosettes.

There comes from the Chaplain's tent a sweet and solemn refrain:

          "Perhaps He will admit my plea,
             Perhaps will hear my prayer;
           But if I perish I will pray,
             And perish only there.
           I can but perish if I go.
             I am resolved to try.
           For if I stay away I know
             I must forever die."

While these old hymns are sounding in our ears, we are almost tempted to
go, even if we do perish. Surely nothing has such power to make us
forget earth and its round of troubles as these sweet old church songs,
familiar from earliest childhood, and wrought into the most tender
memories, until we come to regard them as a sort of sacred stream, on
which some day our souls will float away happily to the better country.

12. The parson is in my tent doing his best to extract something solemn
out of Willis' violin. Now he stumbles on a strain of "Sweet Home," then
a scratch of "Lang Syne;" but the latter soon breaks its neck over "Old
Hundred," and all three tunes finally mix up and merge into "I would not
live alway, I ask not to stay," which, for the purpose of steadying his
hand, the parson sings aloud. I look at him and affect surprise that a
reverend gentleman should take any pleasure in so vain and wicked an
instrument, and express a hope that the business of tanning skins has
not utterly demoralized him.

Willis pretends to a taste in music far superior to that of the common
"nigger." He plays a very fine thing, and when I ask what it is,
replies: "Norma, an opera piece." Since the parson's exit he has been
executing "Norma" with great spirit, and, so far as I am able to judge,
with wonderful skill. I doubt not his thoughts are a thousand miles
hence, among brown-skinned wenches, dressed in crimson robes, and
decorated with ponderous ear-drops. In fact, "Norma" is good, and goes
far to carry one out of the wilderness.

13. It is after tattoo. Parson Strong's prayer-meeting has been
dismissed an hour, and the camp is as quiet as if deserted. The day has
been a duplicate of yesterday, cold and windy. To-night the moon is
sailing through a wilderness of clouds, now breaking out and throwing a
mellow light over valley and mountain, then plunging into obscurity, and
leaving all in thick darkness.

Major Keifer, Adjutant Mitchell, and Private Jerroloaman have been
stretching their legs before my fire-place all the evening. The Adjutant
being hopelessly in love, naturally enough gave the conversation a
sentimental turn, and our thoughts have been wandering among the rosy
years when our hearts throbbed under the gleam of one bright particular
star (I mean one each), and our souls alternated between hope and fear,
happiness and despair. Three of us, however, have some experience in
wedded life, and the gallant Adjutant is reasonably confident that he
will obtain further knowledge on the subject if this cruel war ever
comes to an end and his sweetheart survives.

14. The paymaster has been busy. The boys are very bitter against the
sutler, realizing, for the first time, that "sutler's chips" cost money,
and that they have wasted on jimcracks too much of their hard earnings.
Conway has taken a solemn Irish oath that the sutler shall never get
another cent of him. But these are like the half repentant, but
resultless, mutterings of the confirmed drunkard. The "new leaf"
proposed to be turned over is never turned.

16. Am told that some of the boys lost in gambling every farthing of
their money half an hour after receiving it from the paymaster.

An Indiana soldier threw a bombshell into the fire to-day, and three men
were seriously wounded by the explosion.

       *       *       *       *       *

The writer was absent from camp from October 21st to latter part of
November, serving on court-martial, first at Huttonville, and afterward
at Beverly.

In November the Third was transferred to Kentucky.



NOVEMBER, 1861.


30. The Third is encamped five miles south of Louisville, on the
Seventh-street plank road.

As we marched through the city my attention was directed to a sign
bearing the inscription, in large black letters,

          "NEGROES BOUGHT AND SOLD."

We have known, to be sure, that negroes were bought and sold, like
cattle and tobacco, but it, nevertheless, awakened new, and not by any
means agreeable, sensations to see the humiliating fact announced on the
broad side of a commercial house. These signs must come down.

The climate of Kentucky is variable, freezing nights and thawing in the
day. The soil in this locality is rich, and, where trodden, extremely
muddy. We shall miss the clear water of the mountain streams. A large
number of troops are concentrating here.



DECEMBER, 1861.


1. Sunday has just slipped away. Parson Strong attempted to get an
audience; but a corporal's guard, for numbers, were all who desired to
be ministered to in spiritual things.

The Colonel spends much of his time in Louisville. He complains bitterly
because the company officers do not remain in camp, and yet fails to set
them a good example in this regard. We have succeeded poorly in holding
our men. Quite a number dodged off while the boat was lying at the
landing in Cincinnati, and still more managed to get through the guard
lines and have gone to Louisville. The invincible Corporal Casey has not
yet put in an appearance.

The boys of the Sixth Ohio are exceedingly jubilant; the entire regiment
has been allowed a furlough for six days. This was done to satisfy the
men, who had become mutinous because they were not permitted to stop at
Cincinnati on their way hither.

4. Rode to Louisville this afternoon; in the evening attended the
theatre, and saw the notorious Adah Isaacs Menken Heenan. The house was
packed with soldiers, mostly of the Sixth Ohio. It seemed probable at
one time that there would be a general free fight; but the brawlers were
finally quieted and the play went on. One of the performers resembled an
old West Virginia acquaintance so greatly that the boys at once
y'clepped him Stalnaker, and howled fearfully whenever he made his
appearance.

7. Moved three miles nearer Louisville and encamped in a grove. Have had
much difficulty in keeping the men in camp; and this evening, to prevent
a general stampede, ordered the guards to load their guns and shoot the
first man who attempted to break over. Have succeeded also in getting
the officers to remain; notified them yesterday that charges would be
preferred against all who left without permission, and this afternoon I
put my very good friend, Lieutenant Dale, under arrest for disregarding
the order.

12. In camp near Elizabethtown. The road over which we marched was
excellent; but owing to detention at Salt river, where the troops and
trains had to be ferried over, we were a day longer coming here than we
expected to be. The weather has been delightful, warm as spring time.
The nights are beautiful.

The regiment was greatly demoralized by our stay in the vicinity of
Louisville, and on the march hither the boys were very disorderly and
loth to obey; but, by dint of much scolding, we succeeded in getting
them all through.

13. Have been attached to the Seventeenth Brigade, and assigned to the
Third Division; the latter commanded by General O. M. Mitchell. The
General remarked to me this morning, that the best drilled and
conditioned regiments would lead in the march toward Nashville.

15. Jake Smith, the driver of the head-quarters wagon, on his arrival in
Elizabethtown went to the hotel, and in an imperious way ordered dinner,
assuring the landlord, with much emphasis, that he was "no damned common
officer, and wanted a good dinner."

18. In camp at Bacon creek, eight miles north of Green river. Have been
two days on the way from Elizabethtown; the road was bad. There were
nine regiments in the column, which extended as far almost as the eye
could reach.

At Louisville I was compelled to bear heavily on officers and men. On
the march hither I have dealt very thoroughly with some of the most
disorderly, and in consequence have become unpopular with the regiment.

20. General Mitchell called this afternoon and requested me to form the
regiment in a square. I did so, and he addressed it for twenty minutes
on guard duty, throwing in here and there patriotic expressions, which
encouraged and delighted the boys very much. When he departed they gave
him three rousing cheers.

21. A reconnoissance was made beyond Green river yesterday, and no enemy
found.

We are short of supplies; entirely out of sugar, coffee, and candles,
and the boys to-night indicated some faint symptoms of insubordination,
but I assured them we had made every effort possible to obtain these
articles, and so quieted them.

Major Keifer was officer in charge of the camp yesterday, and when
making the rounds last night a sentinel challenged, "Halt! who comes
there?" The sergeant responded, "Grand rounds," whereupon the weary and
disappointed Irishman retorted in angry tones: "Divil take the grand
rounds, I thought it the relafe comin'."

22. The pleasant days have ended. The clouds hang heavy and black, and
the rain descends in torrents.

After eleven o'clock last night I accompanied General Mitchell to ten
regiments, and with him made the grand rounds in most of them. As we
rode from camp to camp the General made the time most agreeable and
profitable to me, by delivering a very able lecture on military affairs;
laying down what he denominated a simple and sure foundation for the
beginner to build upon.

The wind is high and our stove smokes prodigiously. I have been out in
the rain endeavoring to turn the pipe, but have not mended the matter at
all. The Major insists that it is better to freeze than to be smoked to
death, so we shall extinguish the fire and freeze.

Adjutant Mitchell has been commissioned captain and assigned to Company
C.

25. Gave passes to all the boys who desired to leave camp. The Major,
Adjutant and I had a right royal Christmas dinner and a pleasant time. A
fine fat chicken, fried mush, coffee, peaches and milk, were on the
table. The Major is engaged now in heating the second tea-pot of water
for punch purposes. His countenance has become quite rosy; this is
doubtless the effect of the fire. He has been unusually powerful in
argument; but whether his intellect has been stimulated by the fire, the
tea, or the punch, we are at this time wholly unable to decide; he
certainly handles the tea-pot with consummate skill, and attacks the
punch with exceeding vigor.

27. No orders to advance. Armies travel slowly indeed. Within fifteen
miles of the enemy and idly rotting in the mud.

Acting Brigadier-General Marrow when informed that Dumont would assume
command of the brigade, became suddenly and violently ill, asked for and
obtained a thirty-day leave.

I would give much to be home with the children during this holiday time;
but unfortunately my health is too good, and will continue so in spite
of me. The Major, poor man, is troubled in the same way.

28. Lieutenant St. John goes to Louisville with a man who was arrested
as a spy; and strange to say the arrest was made at the instance of the
prisoner's uncle, who is a captain in the Union army.

Captain Mitchell assumes command of company C to-morrow. The Colonel is
incensed at the Major and me, because of the Adjutant's promotion. He
intended to make a place in the company for a non-commissioned officer,
who begged money from the boys to buy him a sword. We astonished him,
however, by showing three commissions--one for the Adjutant, and one
each for a first and second lieutenant, all of the company's own
choosing.

30. Called on General Dumont this morning; he is a small man, with a
thin piping voice, but an educated and affable gentleman. Did not make
his acquaintance in West Virginia, he being unwell while there and
confined to his quarters.

This is a peculiar country; there are innumerable caverns, and every few
rods places are found where the crust of the earth appears to have
broken and sunk down hundreds of feet. One mile from camp there is a
large and interesting cave, which has been explored probably by every
soldier of the regiment.

31. General Buell is here, and a grand review took place to-day.

Since we left Elkwater there has been a steadily increasing element of
insubordination manifested in many ways, but notably in an unwillingness
to drill, in stealing from camp and remaining away for days. This, if
tolerated much longer, will demoralize even the best of men and render
the regiment worthless.



JANUARY, 1862.


1. Albert, the cook, was swindled in the purchase of a fowl for our New
Year's dinner; he supposed he was getting a young and tender turkey, but
we find it to be an ancient Shanghai rooster, with flesh as tough as
whitleather. This discovery has cast a shade of melancholy over the
Major.

The boys, out of pure devilment, set fire to the leaves, and to-night
the forest was illuminated. The flames advanced so rapidly that, at one
time, we feared they might get beyond control, but the fire was finally
whipped out, not, however, without making as much noise in the operation
as would be likely to occur at the burning of an entire city.

5. General Mitchell has issued an immense number of orders, and of
course holds the commandants of regiments responsible for their
execution. I have, as in duty bound, done my best to enforce them, and
the men think me unnecessarily severe.

To-day a soldier about half drunk was arrested for leaving camp without
permission and brought to my quarters; he had two canteens of whisky on
his person. I remonstrated with him mildly, but he grew saucy,
insubordinate, and finally insolent and insulting; he said he did not
care a damn for what I thought or did, and was ready to go to the
guard-house; in fact wanted to go there. Finally, becoming exasperated,
I took the canteens from him, poured out the whisky, and directed
Captain Patterson to strap him to a tree until he cooled off somewhat.
The Captain failing in his efforts to fasten him securely, I took my
saddle girth, backed him up to the tree, buckled him to it, and returned
to my quarters. This proved to be the last straw which broke the
unfortunate camel's back. It was a high-handed outrage upon the person
of a volunteer soldier; the last and worst of the many arbitrary and
severe acts of which I had been guilty. The regiment seemed to arise _en
masse_, and led on by a few reckless men who had long disliked me,
advanced with threats and fearful oaths toward my tent. The bitter
hatred which the men entertained for me had now culminated. It being
Sunday the whole regiment was off duty, and while some, and perhaps
many, of the boys had no desire to resort to violent measures, yet all
evidently sympathized with the prisoner, and regarded my action as
arbitrary and cruel. The position of the soldier was a humiliating one,
but it gave him no bodily pain. Possibly I had no authority for
punishing him in this way; and had I taken time for reflection it is
more than probable I should have found some other and less objectionable
mode; confinement in the guard-house, however, would have been no
punishment for such a man; on the contrary it would have afforded him
that relief from disagreeable duty which he desired. At any rate the
act, whether right or wrong, had been done, and I must either stand by
it now or abandon all hope of controlling the regiment hereafter. I
watched the mob, unobserved by it, from an opening in my tent door. Saw
it gather, consult, advance, and could hear the boisterous and
threatening language very plainly. Buckling my pistol belt under my coat
where it could not be seen, I stepped out just as the leaders advanced
to the tree for the purpose of releasing the man. I asked them very
quietly what they proposed to do. Then I explained to them how the
soldier had violated orders, which I was bound by my oath to enforce;
how, when I undertook to remonstrate kindly against such unsoldierly
conduct, he had insulted and defied me. Then I continued as calmly as I
ever spoke, "I understand you have come here to untie him; let the man
who desires to undertake the work begin--if there be a dozen men here
who have it in their minds to do this thing--let them step forward--I
dare them to do it." They saw before them a quiet, plain man who was
ready to die if need be; they could not doubt his honesty of purpose. He
gave them time to act and answer, they stood irresolute and silent; with
a wave of the hand he bade them go to their quarters, and they went.

General Mitchell hearing of my trouble sent for me. I explained to him
the difficulties under which I was laboring; told him what I had done
and why I had done it. He said he understood my position fully, that I
must go ahead, do my duty and he would stand by me, and, if necessary,
sustain me with his whole division. I replied that I needed no
assistance; that the officers, with but few exceptions, were my friends,
and that I believed there were enough good, sensible soldiers in the
regiment to see me through. He talked very kindly to me; but I feel
greatly discouraged. The Colonel has practically abandoned the regiment
in this period of bad weather, when rigorous discipline is to be
enforced, and the boys seem to feel that I am taking advantage of his
absence to display my authority, and require from them the performance
of hard and unnecessary tasks. Many non-commissioned officers have been
reduced to the ranks by court-martial for being absent without leave,
and many privates have been punished in various ways for the same
reason. It was my duty to approve or disapprove the finding of the
court. Disapproval in the majority of cases would have been subversive
of all discipline. Approval has brought down upon me not only the hatred
and curses of the soldiers tried and punished, but in some instances the
ill-will also of their fathers, who for years were my neighbors and
friends.

Very many of these soldiers think they should be allowed to work when
they please, play when they please, and, in short, do as they please.
Until this idea is expelled from their minds the regiment will be but
little if any better than a mob.

7. We hear of the Colonel occasionally. He is still at Louisville,
running his train on the broad gauge. His regiment, he says, has been
maneuvering in the face of the enemy beyond Green river, threatened
with an attack day and night. Constant vigilance and continued exposure
in this most inclement season of the year, so undermined his health that
he was compelled to retire a little while to recuperate. He affirms that
he has the best regiment of soldiers in the service; but, unfortunately,
has not a field officer worth a damn.

Robt. E. Lee was the great man of the rebel army in West Virginia. The
boys all talked about Lee, and told how they would pink him if
opportunity offered. But Simon Bolivar Buckner is the man here on whom
they all threaten to fall violently. There are certainly a hundred
soldiers in the Third, each one of whom swears every day that he would
whip Simon Bolivar Buckner quicker than a wink if he dared present
himself. Simon is in danger.

Had the third sergeants in my school to-night. Am getting to be a pretty
good teacher.

10. General Mitchell gave the officers a very interesting lecture this
evening. He is indefatigable. The whole division has become a school.

Had five lieutenants before me. Lesson: grand guards and other outposts.

11. The General summoned the officers of his division about him and went
through the form of sending out advanced guard, posting picket, grand
guards, outposts, and sentinels. During these exercises we rode fifteen
or twenty miles, and listened to at least twenty speeches. My horse was
very gay, and I had the pleasure of running many races. I learned
something, and am learning a little each day. Had the lieutenants in my
school again to-night. Lesson: detachments, reconnoissances, partisans,
and flankers.

12. The officers dress better, as a rule, than in West Virginia. The
only man who has not, in this regard, changed for the better, is the
Major. He continues the careless fellow he was. Occasionally he makes an
effort to have his boots polished; but finds the day altogether too
short for the work, and abandons the job in despair.

14. Every day we have the roar of artillery, the rattle of musketry, the
prancing of impatient steeds, the marching and countermarching of
battalions, the roll of the drum, the clash and clatter of sabers, and
the thunder of a thousand mounted men, as they hurry hither and yon. But
nobody is hurt; it is all practice and drill.

16. People who live in houses would hardly believe one can sleep
comfortably with his nose separated from the coldest winter wind by
simply a thin cotton canvas; but such is the fact.

19. General Dumont called. He is to-day commandant of the camp. The
General is an eccentric genius, and has an inexhaustible fund of good
stories. He uses the words "damned" and "be-damned" rather too often;
but this adds, rather than detracts, from his popularity. He dispenses
good whisky at his quarters very freely, and this has a tendency also to
elevate him in the estimation of his subordinates.

General Mitchell never drinks and never swears. Occasionally he uses
the words "confound it" in rather savage style; but further than this I
have never heard him go. Mitchell is military; Dumont militia. The
latter winks at the shortcomings of the soldier; the former does not.

25. We are not studying so much as we were. The General's grasp has
relaxed, and he does not hold us with a tight reign and stiff bit any
longer.

There is a great deal of sickness among the troops; many cases of colds,
rheumatism, and fever, resulting from exposure. Passing through the
company quarters of our regiment at midnight, I was alarmed by the
constant and heavy coughing of the men. I fear the winter will send many
more to the grave than the bullets of the enemy, for a year to come.

26. A body of cavalry got in our rear last night and attempted to
destroy the Nolan creek bridge; but it was driven off by the guard,
after a sharp engagement, in which report says nine of the enemy were
killed and six of our men.

The enemy is doing but little in our front. A night or two ago he
ventured to within a few miles of our forces on Green river, burnt a
station-house, and retired.

28. The Colonel returned at noon. I was among the first to visit him. He
greeted me very cordially, and called God to witness that he had never
spoken a disparaging word of me. Busy bodies and liars, he said, had
created all the trouble between us. He had heard that charges were to
be preferred against him; he knew they could not be sustained, and
believed it an attempt of his enemies to injure him and prevent his
promotion. He affirmed that he had enlisted from the purest of motives,
and entered into a general defense of his acts as an officer and
gentleman. I listened respectfully to his statement, and then said:
"Colonel, if your conduct has been such as you describe, you need not
fear an investigation. I hold in my hand the charges and specifications
of which you have heard. They are signed by my hand. I make them
believing them to be true. If false, the court will so find, and I shall
be the one to suffer. If true, you are unfit to command this regiment or
any other, and it should be known. I present the charges to you, the
commanding officer of the Third Regiment, and with them a written
request that they be forwarded to the General commanding the division."
He took the package, tore open the envelope, and seated himself while he
read.

In less than an hour Captains Lawson and Wing called on me to report
that the Colonel would resign if I would withdraw the charges. I
consented to do so.

31. Had dress parade this evening, at which the Colonel officiated, it
being his first appearance since his return.

Ascertaining that he had not sent in his resignation, I wrote him a note
calling attention to the promise made on the 29th instant, and
suggesting that it would be well to terminate an unpleasant matter
without unnecessary delay.

We had a case of disappointed love in the regiment last night. A
sergeant of Captain Mitchell's company was engaged to a girl of Athens
county. They were to be married upon his return from the war, and until
within a month have been corresponding regularly. Suddenly and without
explanation she ceased to write, why he could not imagine. He never,
however, doubted that she would be faithful to him. His anxiety to hear
from home increased, until finally he learned from her brother, a
soldier of the _Eighteenth Ohio_, that she was married. Strong, healthy,
good-looking fellow that he was, this intelligence prostrated him
completely, and made him crazy as a loon. He imagined that he was in
hell, thought Dr. Seyes the devil, and so violent did he become that
they had to bind him.

This morning he is more calm, but still deranged. He thought the straws
in his bunk were thorns, and would pluck at them with his fingers and
exclaim: "My God, ain't they sharp?" Captain Mitchell called, and the
boys said: "Sergeant, don't you know him?" "Yes," he replied, "he is one
of the devils." The Captain said: "Sergeant, don't you know where you
are?" "Of course I do; I'm in hell." When they were binding him he said:
"That's right; heap on the coals; put me in the hottest place." While
Dr. Seyes was preparing something to quiet him--laudanum, perhaps--he
said: "Bring on your poison; I'll take it."

The boys, while living roughly, exposed to hardships and dangers, think
more of their sweethearts than ever before, and are constantly
recurring, in their talk, to the comfortable homes and pleasant scenes
from which they are for the present separated.



FEBRUARY, 1862.


1. The Colonel sent in his resignation this morning. It will go to
Department head-quarters to-morrow.

Saw the new moon over my right shoulder this evening, which I accept as
an omen of good luck. Let it come. It will suit me just as well now as
at any time. If deceived, I shall never more have faith in the moon; and
as for the man in the moon, I shall call him a cheat to his face.

2. The devil is to pay in the regiment. The Colonel is doing his utmost
to create a disturbance. His friends are busy among the privates. At
noon an effort was made to get up a demonstration on the color line in
his behalf. Now a petition is being circulated among the privates
requesting Major Keifer and me to resign.

The night is as dark as pitch. A few minutes ago a shout went up for the
Colonel, and was swelled from point to point along the line of company
tents, until now possibly five hundred voices have joined in the yell.
The Colonel's friends tell the boys that if he were to remain he would
obtain leave for the regiment to go back to Camp Dennison to recruit;
that he was about to obtain rifles and Zouave uniforms for them, and
that there is a conspiracy among the officers to crush him.

3. Petitions from four companies, embracing two hundred and twenty-five
names, have been presented, requesting the Major and Lieutenant-Colonel
to resign.

4. We closed up the day with a dress parade, the Colonel in command. The
camp is more boisterous than usual. No more petitions have been
presented.

The Major received a package from home to-night containing, among other
articles, a pair of slippers, which, greatly to my advantage, were too
small for him. They were turned over to me, and it happens that no
little thing could have been more acceptable.

The bright moonlight of to-night enlivens our spirits somewhat, and
fills us with new courage. The days have been dark and gloomy, and the
nights still more so, for many days and nights past.

From the band of the Tenth Ohio, half a mile away, come strains mellow
and sweet. The air is full of moonlight and music. The boys are in a
happier mood, and a round, full voice comes to us from the tents with
the words of an old Scotch song:

          "March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale!
             Why, my lads, dinna ye march forward in order?
           March, march, Eskale and Liddlesdale!
             All the blue bonnets are over the border.
           Many a banner spread flutters above your head,
             Many a crest that is famous in story;
           Mount and make ready, then, sons of the mountain glen!
             Fight for the King and the old Scottish border!"

5. The Major and Mr. Furay are engaged in a tremendous dispute. Furay is
positive he can not be mistaken, and the Major laughs him to scorn. When
these gentlemen lock horns in dead earnest the clatter of words becomes
terrible, and the combat ends only when both fall on their cots
exhausted.

6. The Colonel's resignation has been accepted. He delivered his
valedictory to the regiment this evening. Subsequently he passed through
the company quarters, shaking hands with the boys and bidding them
farewell. Still later he made a speech, in which he called God to
witness that he was a loyal man, and promised to pray for us all. The
regiment is disorderly, if not mutinous even. The best thing he can do
for it and himself is to get out.

8. The Colonel has bidden us a final adieu. His most devoted adherents
escorted him to the depot, and returned miserably drunk.

One of the color guards, an honest, sensible, good-looking boy, has
written me a letter of encouragement. I trust that soon all will feel as
kindly toward me as he.

10. We left Bacon creek at noon. There were ten thousand men in advance
of us, with immense baggage trains. The roads bad, and our march slow,
tedious, and disagreeable. Many of the officers imbibed freely, and the
senior surgeon, an educated gentleman, and very popular with the boys,
became gloriously elevated. He kept his eye pealed for secesh, and
before reaching Munfordsville found a citizen twice as big as himself in
possession of a double-barreled shot-gun. Taking it for granted that he
was an enemy, the Doctor drew a revolver and bade him surrender
unconditionally. The boys said the Doctor was as tight as a little bull.
What phase of inebriety this remark indicated I am unable to say; but
certain it is that he did not for a moment lose sight of his gigantic
prisoner, nor give him the slightest opportunity to escape. He was quite
triumphant in his bearing; directed the movements of the captive in a
loud and imperious tone, and favored him with much patriotic advice.

A wagon with six unbroken mules attached is an uncertain conveyance. If
the mules are desired to stop suddenly, they are certain not to do so,
and if commanded to start suddenly, they are just as sure not to obey.
If, after an immense amount of whipping and many fervent asseverations
on the part of the driver that all mules should be in Tophet, they
conclude to start at all, they go as if determined to reach the place
indicated without unnecessary delay. If a mud-hole, ditch, tree, or any
other obstacle lies in the way, and the driver cries whoa, the mules
redouble their speed, and rush forward as if they did not in the
slightest degree consider themselves responsible either for the driver's
neck or the traps with which the wagon is laden.

It was about eight o'clock in the evening when we crossed the bridge
over Green river. The moon had around it a halo, in which appeared very
distinctly all the colors of the National flag--red, white, and
blue--and the boys said it was a good omen; that they were Union people
up there, and had hung out the Stars and Stripes.

12. To-morrow we start for Bowling Green, our division in the lead.
Before night we shall overtake the rebels, and before the next evening
will doubtless fight a battle.

13. Long before sunrise the whole division was astir, and at seven
o'clock moved forward, our brigade in the center. Far as the eye could
reach, both in front and rear, the road was crowded with men. A score of
bands filled the air with martial strains, while the morning sun
brightened the muskets, and made the flags look more cheerful and
brilliant. The day was warm and pleasant. The country before us was, in
a military sense, unexplored, and every ear was open to catch the sound
of the first gun. The conviction that a battle was imminent kept the men
steady and prevented straggling. We passed many fine houses, and
extensive, well improved farms. But few white people were seen. The
negroes appeared to have entire possession.

Six miles from Green river a young and very pretty girl stood in the
doorway of a handsome farm-house and waved the flag of the Union. Cheer
after cheer arose along the line; officers saluted, soldiers waved their
hats, and the bands played "Yankee Doodle" and "Dixie." That loyal girl
captured a thousand hearts, and I trust some gallant soldier who shall
win honorable scars in battle may return in good time to crown her his
Queen of Love and Beauty.

From this on for fifteen miles we found neither springs nor streams.
The country is cavernous, and the only water is that of the ponds. In
all of these we discovered dead and decaying horses, mules, and dogs.
The rebels in this way had sought to deprive us of water; but while
their action in this regard occasioned a vast deal of profanity among
the boys, it did not in the least retard the column. We were, however,
delayed somewhat by the felled trees with which they had obstructed
miles of the road. At sunset we halted and pitched our tents in a large
field, near what is known as Bell's Tavern, on the Louisville and
Nashville Railroad. We had marched eighteen miles.

The water used in the preparation of the evening meal was that of the
ponds. The thought of the rotting dogs, horses, and mules, could not be
banished, and when the Major sipped his coffee in a doubtful way and
remarked that it tasted soupy, my stomach quivered on the turning point,
and, hungry as I was, the supper gave me no further enjoyment.

14. Resumed the march at daylight. Snow fell last night. The day was
exceedingly cold, and the wind pierced through us like needles of ice. I
think I never experienced so sudden and extreme a change in the weather.
It was too cold to ride, and I dismounted and walked twelve miles. We
were certain of a fight, and so pushed on with rapid pace. A regiment of
cavalry and Loomis' battery were in advance. When within ten miles of
Bowling Green the guns opened in our front. Leaving the regiment in
charge of the Major, I rode ahead rapidly as I could, and reached the
river bank opposite Bowling Green in time to see a detachment of rebel
cavalry fire the buildings which contained their army stores. The town
was ablaze in twenty different places. They had destroyed the bridge
over Barren river in the morning, and now, having finished the work of
destruction, went galloping over the hills. When the regiment arrived,
it was quartered in a camp but recently evacuated by the enemy. The
night was bitter cold; but the boys soon had a hundred fires blazing,
and made themselves very comfortable.

15. This morning we were called out at daylight to cross the river and
take possession of the town; a sorrier, hungrier lot of fellows never
rolled out of warm blankets into the icy wind. It was impossible for
many of them to get their wet and frozen shoes on, but we hurried down
to the river, and were there halted until it was ascertained that our
presence on the opposite side was not required, when we went back to our
old quarters.

16. To-day we crossed the Big Barren, and are now in Bowling Green.
Turchin's brigade preceded us, and has gutted many houses. The rebels
burned a million dollars worth of stores, but left enough pork, salt
beef, and other necessaries to supply our division for a month; in fact
the cigar I am smoking, the paper on which I write, the ink and pen,
were all captured.

General Beauregard left the day before our arrival. It is said he was
for days reported to be lying in General Hardee's quarters, dangerously
ill, and that under cover of this report he left town dressed in
citizen's clothes and visited our camps on Green River.

18. The weather is turning warm again, the men are quartered in houses.
I room at the hotel. This sort of life, however pleasant it may be, has
a demoralizing effect upon the soldier.

19. Spent the forenoon at the river assisting somewhat in getting our
transportation over. It is a rainy day, and I got wet to the skin and
thoroughly chilled. After dinner I went to bed while William, my
servant, put a few necessary stitches in my apparel, and dried my
underclothing and boots. I am badly off for clothing; my coat is out at
the elbows, and my pantaloons are in a revolutionary condition, the seat
having seceded.

The Cincinnati Gazette of the 14th instant reports that I have been
promoted. Thanks.

20. We learn from a reliable source that Nashville has been evacuated.
The enemy is said to be concentrating at Murfreesboro, twenty or thirty
miles beyond.

The river has risen fifteen feet, and many of our teams are still on the
other side. The water swelled so rapidly that two teams of six mules
each, parked on the river bank last night so as to be in readiness to
cross on the ferry this morning, were swept away.

Captain Mitchell returned this evening from a trip North. We are glad to
have him back again.

21. Hear that Fort Donelson has been taken after a terrible fight, and
ten thousand ears are eager to hear more about the engagement. No teams
crossed the river to-day; we are flood bound.

There was an immense number of deaths in the rebel army while it
encamped here. It is said three thousand Southern soldiers are buried in
the vicinity of the town. They could not stand the rigorous Northern
climate. A Mississippi regiment reported but thirteen men for duty.

22. Moved at seven in the morning toward Nashville without wagons, tents
or camp equipage. Marched twenty miles in the rain and were drenched
completely. The boys found some sort of shelter during the night in
tobacco houses, barns, and straw piles.

23. The day pleasant and sunshiny. The feet of the men badly blistered,
and the regiment limps along in wretched style; made fifteen miles.

24. Routed out at daylight and ordered to make Nashville, a distance of
thirty-two miles. Many of the boys have no shoes, and the feet of many
are still very sore. The journey seems long, but we are at the head of
the column, and that stimulates us somewhat. Have sent my horse to the
rear to help along the very lame, and am making the march on foot.

The martial band of the regiment is doing its utmost to keep the boys in
good spirits; the base drum sounds like distant thunder, and the wind of
Hughes, the fifer, is inexhaustible; he can blow five miles at a
stretch. The members of the band are in good pluck, and when not
playing, either sing, tell stories, or indulge in reminiscences of a
personal character. Russia has been badgering William Heney, a drummer.
He says that while at Elkwater Heney sparked one of Esquire Stalnaker's
daughters, and that the lady's little sister going into the room quite
suddenly one evening called back to the father, "Dad, dad, William Heney
has got his arm around Susan Jane!" Heney affirms that the story is
untrue. Lochey favors us with a song, which is known as the warble.

          "Thou, thou reignest in this bosom,
             There, there hast thou thy throne;

           Thou, thou knowest that I love thee;
             Am I not fondly thine own?

               Ya--ya--ya--ya.
           Am I not fondly thine own?

                        CHORUS.

                 Das unda claus ish mein,
                 Das unda claus ish mein,
                 Cants do nic mock un do.

           On the banks of the Ohio river,
             In a cot lives my Rosa so fair;
           She is called Jim Johnson's darky,
             And has nice curly black hair.
               Tre alo, tre alo, tre ola, ti.

           O come with me to the dear little spot,
             And I'll show you the place I was born,
           In a little log hut by a clear running brook,
             Where blossom the wild plum and thorn.
               Tre ola, tre ola, treo la ti.

           Mein fadter, mein modter, mein sister, mein frau,
             Undt swi glass of beer for meinself,
           Undt dey call mein wife one blacksmit shop;
             Such dings I never did see in my life.
               Tre ola, tre ola, tre ola ti."

25. General Nelson's command came up the Cumberland by boat and entered
Nashville ahead of us. The city, however, had surrendered to our
division before Nelson arrived. We failed simply in being the first
troops to occupy it, and this resulted from detention at the
river-crossing.

27. Crossed the Cumberland and moved through Nashville; the regiment
behaved handsomely, and was followed by a great crowd of colored people,
who appeared to be delighted with the music. General Mitchell
complimented us on our good behavior and appearance.

28. Captain Wilson, Fourth Ohio Cavalry, was shot dead while on picket.
One of his sergeants had eight balls put through him, but still lives.



MARCH, 1862.


1. Our brigade, in command of General Dumont, started for Lavergne, a
village eleven miles out on the Murfreesboro road, to look after a
regiment of cavalry said to be in occupation of the place. Arrived there
a little before sunset, but found the enemy had disappeared.

The troops obtained whisky in the village, and many of the soldiers
became noisy and disorderly.

A little after nightfall the compliments of a Mrs. Harris were presented
to me, with request that I would be kind enough to call. The handsome
little white cottage where she lived was near our bivouac. It was the
best house in the village; and, as I ascertained afterward, very
tastefully if not elegantly furnished. She was a woman of perhaps forty.
Her husband and daughter were absent; the former, I think, in the
Confederate service. She had only a servant with her, and was
considerably frightened and greatly incensed at the conduct of some
soldiers, of she knew not what regiment, who had persisted in coming
into her house and treating her rudely. In short, she desired
protection. She had a lively tongue in her head, and her request for a
guard was, I thought, not preferred in the gentlest and most amiable
way. Her comments on our Northern soldiers were certainly not
complimentary to them. She said she had supposed hitherto that soldiers
were gentlemen. I confessed that they ought to be at least. She said,
rather emphatically, that Southern soldiers _were_ gentlemen. I replied
that I did not doubt at all the correctness of her statement; but,
unfortunately, the branch of the Northern army to which I had the honor
to belong had not been able to get near enough to them to obtain any
personal knowledge on the subject.

The upshot of the five minutes' interview was a promise to send a
soldier to protect Mrs. Harris' property and person during the night.

Returning to the regiment I sent for Sergeant Woolbaugh. He is one of
the handsomest men in the regiment; a printer by trade, an excellent
conversationalist, a man of extensive reading, and of thorough
information respecting current affairs. I said: "Sergeant, I desire you
to brighten up your musket, and clothes if need be, go over to the
little white cottage on the right and stand guard." "All right, sir."

As he was leaving I called to him: "If the lady of the house shows any
inclination to talk with you, encourage and gratify her to the top of
her bent. I want her to know what sort of men our Northern soldiers
are."

The Sergeant in due time introduced himself to Mrs. Harris, and was
invited into the sitting room. They soon engaged in conversation, and
finally fell into a discussion of the issue between the North and South
which lasted until after midnight. The lady, although treated with all
courtesy, certainly obtained no advantage in the controversy, and must
have arisen from it with her ideas respecting Northern soldiers very
materially changed.

2. Started on the return to Nashville at three o'clock in the morning.
The boys being again disappointed in not finding the enemy, and
considerably under the influence of liquor, conducted themselves in a
most disorderly and unsoldierly way.

Have not had a change of clothing since we crossed the Great Barren
river.

6. Regiment on picket.

When returning from the front I met a soldier of the Thirty-seventh
Indiana, trudging along with his gun on his shoulder. I asked him where
he was going; he replied that his father lived four miles beyond, and he
had just heard that his brother was home from the Southern army on sick
leave, and he was going out to take him prisoner.

8. This afternoon the camp was greatly excited over a daring feat of a
body of cavalry under John Morgan. It succeeded in getting almost inside
the camps, and was five miles inside of our outposts. It came into the
main road between where Kennett's cavalry regiment is encamped and
Nashville; captured a wagon train, took the drivers, Captain Braden, of
Indiana, who was in charge of the train, and eighty-three horses, and
started on a by-road back for Murfreesboro. General Mitchell immediately
dispatched Kennett in pursuit. About fifteen miles out the rebels were
overtaken and our men and horses recaptured. Two rebels were killed and
two taken; Kennett is still in hot pursuit. Captain Braden says, as the
rebels were riding away they were exceedingly jubilant over the success
of their adventure, and promised to introduce him to General Hardee in
the evening. Without asking the Captain's permission they gave him a
very poor horse in exchange for a very good one, put him at the head of
the column and guarded him vigilantly; but when Kennett appeared and the
running fight occurred he dodged off at full speed, lay down on his
horse, and although fired at many times escaped unhurt.

Morgan's men know the country so well that all the by-roads and
cow-paths are familiar to them; the citizens keep them informed also as
to the location of our camps and picket posts, and if need be are ready
to serve them either as guides or spies, hence the success which
attended the earlier part of their enterprise does not indicate so great
a want of vigilance on the part of our troops, as might at first thought
be supposed.

9. The enemy made a descent on one of our outposts, killed one man and
wounded another.

16. Went to Nashville this morning to buy a few necessaries. While
awaiting dinner at the St. Cloud I took a seat outside the door. Quite a
number of Union officers were seated or standing in front of the hotel,
when two well, extremely well, dressed women, followed by a negro lady,
approached, and while passing us _held their noses_. What disagreeable
thing the atmosphere in our immediate vicinity contained that made it
necessary for these lovely women to so pinch their nasal protuberances,
I could not discover; certainly the officers looked cleanly, many of
them were young men of the "double-bullioned" kind, who had spared no
expense in decorating their persons with shoulder straps, golden bugles,
and other shining trappings which appertain somehow to glorious war.

After dinner I dropped into a drug store to buy a cake of soap. The
druggist gave me, in the way of change, several miserably executed
shinplasters. I asked:

"Do you call this money?"

"I do."

"I wonder that every printing office in the South does not commence the
manufacture of such money."

"O, no," he replied in a sneering way; "in the North they might do that,
but in the South no one is disposed to make counterfeit money."

"Yes," I retorted, "the Southern people are very honest no doubt, but I
apprehend there is a better reason for not counterfeiting the money than
you have assigned. It is probably not worth counterfeiting."

Private Hawes of the Third is remarkably fond of pies, and a notorious
straggler withal. He has just returned to camp after being away for some
days, and accounts for his absence by saying that he was in the country
looking for pies, when Morgan's men appeared suddenly, shot his horse
from under him, mounted him behind a soldier and carried him away. The
private is now in the guard-house entertaining a select company with a
narrative of his adventures.

We have much trouble with escaped negroes. In some way we have obtained
the reputation of being abolitionists, and the colored folks get into
our regimental lines, and in some mysterious way are so disposed of that
their masters never hear of them again. It is possible the two
saw-bones, who officiate at the hospital, dissect, or desiccate, or boil
them in the interest of science, or in the manufacture of the villainous
compounds with which they dose us when ill. At any rate, we know that
many of these sable creatures, who joined us at Bowling Green and on the
road to Nashville, can not now be found. Their masters, following the
regiment, made complaint to General Buell, and, as we learn, spoke
disparagingly of the Third. An order issued requiring us to surrender
the negroes to the claimants, and to keep colored folks out of our camp
hereafter. I obeyed the order promptly; commanded all the colored men in
camp to assemble at a certain hour and be turned over to their masters;
but the misguided souls, if indeed there were any, failed to put in an
appearance, and could not be found. The scamps, I fear, took advantage
of my notice and hid away, much to the regret of all who desire to
preserve the Union as it was, and greatly to the chagrin of the
gentlemen who expected to take them handcuffed back to Kentucky. One of
these fugitives, a handsome mulatto boy, borrowed five dollars of me,
and the same amount of Doctor Seyes, not half an hour before the time
when he was to be delivered up, but I fear now the money will never be
repaid.

18. Started for Murfreesboro. The day is beautiful and the regiment
marches well. Encamped for the night near Lavergne. I called on my
friend Mrs. Harris. She received me cordially and introduced me to her
daughter, a handsome young lady of seventeen or eighteen. They were both
extremely Southern in their views, but chatted pleasantly over the
situation, and Mrs. Harris spoke of Sergeant Woolbaugh, the guard
furnished her on our first visit, in very complimentary terms; in fact,
she was surprised to find such men in the ranks of the Federal army. I
assured her that there were scores like him in every regiment, and that
our army was made up of the flower of the Northern people.

19. The rebels having burned the bridges on the direct road, we were
compelled to diverge to the left and take a longer route; toward evening
we went into camp on the plantation of a widow lady, and here for the
first time in my life I saw a field of cotton; the old stalks still
standing with many bulbs which had escaped the pickers.

20. Turned out at four o'clock in the morning, got breakfast, struck our
tents, and were ready to march at six; but the brigade being now ordered
to take the rear, we stood uncovered in a drenching rain three hours
for the division and transportation to pass. All were thoroughly wet and
benumbed with cold, but as if to show contempt for the weather the Third
sang with great unction:

          "There is a land of pure delight,
             Where saints immortal reign;
           Infinite day excludes the night,
             And pleasures banish pain.

           There everlasting spring abides,
             And never withering flowers;
           Death, like a narrow sea, divides
             This heavenly land from ours."

Soon after getting under way the sky cleared, and the sun made its
appearance; the band struck up, and at every plantation negroes came
flocking to the roadside to see us. They are the only friends we find.
They have heard of the abolition army, the music, the banners, the
glittering arms; possibly the hope that their masters will be humbled
and their own condition improved, gladdens their hearts and leads them
to welcome us with extravagant manifestations of joy. They keep time to
the music with feet and hands, and hurrah "fur de ole flag and de
Union," sometimes following us for miles. Parson Strong attempts to do a
little missionary work. A dozen or more negroes stand in a group by the
roadside. Said the Parson to an old man: "My friend, are you
religious?"

"No, massa, I is not; seben of my folks is, an dey is all prayen fur
your side."

Hailing a little knot, I said: "Boys where do you live?"

"Lib wid Massa ----, sah."

"All Union people, I suppose?"

"Dey say dey is, but dey isn't."

One old woman--evidently a great-grandmother in Israel--climbed on the
fence, clapped her hands, shouted for joy, and "bressed de Lord dat dar
was de ole flag agin."

To a colored boy who stole into our lines last night, with his little
bundle under his arm, the Major said: "Doesn't it make you feel bad to
run away from your masters?"

"Oh, no, massa; dey is gone, too."

Reached Murfreesboro in the afternoon.

22. Men at work rebuilding the railroad bridge. General Dumont returns
to Nashville. Colonel Lytle, of the Tenth Ohio, will assume command of
our brigade.

My servant has imposed upon me for about a month. He arises in the
morning when he pleases; prepares my meals when it suits his pleasure,
and is disposed in every thing to make me adapt my business to his own
notions. This morning I became so provoked over his insolence and
laziness that, in a moment of passion, I knocked him down. Since then
there has been a decided improvement in his bearing. The blow seems to
have awakened him to a sense of his duty.

25. So soon as the railroad is repaired, an immense amount of cotton
will be sent East from this section. The crops of two seasons are in the
hands of the producer. We are encamped in a cotton field. Peach trees
are now in bloom, and many early flowers are to be seen.

26. The boys are having a grand cotillion party on the green in front of
my tent, and appear to have entirely forgotten the privations,
hardships, and dangers of soldiering.

The army for a temperate, cleanly, cheerful man, is, I have no doubt,
the healthiest place in the world. The coarse fare provided by the
Government is the most wholesome that can be furnished. The boys
oftenest on the sick list are those who are constantly running to the
sutler's for gingerbread, sweetmeats, raisins, and nuts. They eat
enormous quantities of this unwholesome stuff, and lose appetite for
more substantial food. Finding that all desire for hard bread and bacon
has disappeared, they conclude that they must be ill, and instead of
taking exercise, lie in their tents until they finally become really
sick. A contented, temperate, cheerful, cleanly man will live forever in
the army; but a despondent, intemperate, gluttonous, dirty soldier, let
him be never so fat and strong when he enters the service, is sure to
get on the sick list, and finally into the hospital.

The dance on the green is progressing with increased vigor. The music is
excellent. At this moment the gentlemen are going to the right; now
they promenade all; in a minute more the ladies will be in the center,
and four hands round. That broth of an Irish boy, Conway, wears a
rooster's feather in his cap, and has for a partner a soldier twice as
big as himself, whom he calls Susan. As they swing Conway yells at the
top of his voice: "Come round, old gal!"

28. General Mitchell returned from Nashville on a hand-car.

30. This is a pleasant Sunday. The sun shines, the birds sing, and the
air stirs pleasantly.

The colored people of Murfreesboro pour out in great numbers on Sunday
evenings to witness dress parade, some of them in excellent holiday
attire. The women sport flounces and the men canes. Many are nearly
white, and all slaves.

Murfreesboro is an aristocratic town. Many of the citizens have as fine
carriages as are to be seen in Cincinnati or Washington. On pleasant
week-day evenings they sometimes come out to witness the parades. The
ladies, so far as I can judge by a glimpse through a carriage window,
are richly and elegantly dressed.

The poor whites are as poor as rot, and the rich are very rich. There is
no substantial well-to-do middle class. The slaves are, in fact, the
middle class here. They are not considered so good, of course, as their
masters, but a great deal better than the white trash. One enthusiastic
colored man said in my hearing this evening: "You look like solgers. No
wonder dat you wip de white trash ob de Southern army. Dey ced dey
could wip two ob you, but I guess one ob you could wip two ob dem. You
is jest as big as dey is, and maybe a little bigger."

A few miles from here, at a cross roads, is a guide-board:
"[Illustration: Symbol: right index] 15 miles to Liberty." If liberty
were indeed but fifteen miles away, the stars to-night would see a
thousand negroes dancing on the way thither; old men with their wives
and bundles; young men with their sweethearts; little barefooted
children, all singing in their hearts:

          "De day ob jubilee hab come, ho ho!"

On the march hither we passed a little, contemptible, tumble-down,
seven-by-nine frame school-house. Over the door, in large letters, were
the words:

          CENTRAL ACADEMY.

The boys laughed and said: "If this is called an academy, what sort of
things must their common school-houses be?" But Tennessee is a beautiful
State. All it lacks is free schools and freemen.

31. Colonel Keifer, in command of four hundred men, started with ninety
wagons for Nashville. He will repair the railroad in two or three places
and return with provisions.



APRIL, 1862.


3. Struck our tents and started south, at two o'clock this afternoon;
marched fifteen miles and bivouacked for the night.

4. Resumed the march at seven o'clock in the morning, the Third in
advance. At one place on the road a young negro, perhaps eighteen years
old, broke from his hiding in the woods, and with hat in hand and a
broad grin on his face, came running to me. "Massa," said he, "I wants
to go wid you." "I am sorry, my boy, that I can not take you. I am not
permitted to do it." The light went out of the poor fellow's eyes in a
moment, and, putting on his slouched hat, he went away sorrowful enough.
It seems cruel to turn our backs on these, our only friends. If a dog
came up wagging his tail at sight of us, we could not help liking him
better than the master, who not only looks sullen and cross at our
approach, but in his heart desires our destruction.

As we approach the Alabama line we find fewer, but handsomer, houses;
larger plantations, and negroes more numerous. We saw droves of women
working in the fields. When their ears caught the first notes of the
music, they would drop the hoe and come running to the road, their
faces all aglow with pleasure. May we not hope that their darkened minds
caught glimpses of the sun of a better life, now rising for them?

Last night my bed-room was as grand as that ever occupied by a prince.
The floor was carpeted with soft, green, velvety grass. For walls it had
the primeval forest, with its drapery of luxuriant foliage. The ceiling,
higher even than one's thoughts can measure, was studded with stars
innumerable. The crescent moon added to its beauty for awhile, but
disappeared long before I dropped off to sleep.

We entered Shelbyville at noon. There are more Union people here than at
Murfreesboro, and we saw many glad faces as we marched through the
streets. The band made the sky ring with music, and the regiment
deported splendidly. One old woman clapped her hands and thanked heaven
that we had come at last. Apparently almost wild with joy, she shouted
after us, "God be with you!"

We went into camp on Duck river, one mile from the town.

5. General Mitchell complimented me on the good behavior and good
appearance of the Third. He said it was the best regiment in his
division. At Bacon creek, Kentucky, he was particularly severe on us,
and attributed all our trouble to defective discipline and bad
management on the part of the officers. On the evening when the
acceptance of Marrow's resignation was read, the General was present.
After parade was dismissed, I shook hands with him and said: "General,
give us a little time and we will make the Third the best regiment in
your division." The old gentleman was glad to hear me say so, but smiled
dubiously. I am glad to have him acknowledge so soon that we have
fulfilled the promise.

At Murfreesboro heavy details were made for bridge building, and one
day, while superintending the work, the General addressed the detail
from the Third in a very uncomplimentary way: "You lazy scoundrels, go
to work! Your regiment is the promptest in the division to report for
duty, but you will not work." At another time he gave an order to a
soldier which was not obeyed with sufficient alacrity, when he yelled:
"What regiment do you belong to?" "The Third." "Well, sir, I thought you
were one of the obstinate devils of that regiment." At another time he
rode into our camp, and the boys failed to rise at his approach, when he
reined in his horse suddenly and shouted: "Get up here, you lazy
scoundrels, and treat your superiors with respect!" Riding on a little
further, a private passed without touching his cap: "Hold on, here,"
said the General, "don't you know how to salute a superior?" "Yes,"
stammered the boy, "but I did not see you." "Hold up your head like a
soldier, and you will see me."

One night I was making the rounds in the Second Ohio with the General.
The guard did not turn out promptly and he became angry; diving into the
guard-tent to rout them up, he ran against a big fellow so violently
that he was nearly thrown off his legs. This increased his fury, and
seizing the soldier by the coat collar he shook him roughly, and said:
"You insolent dog, I'll stand insolence from no man. Officer, put this
man under arrest immediately."

On the same night the guard of the Thirty-third Ohio turned out slowly,
and some of them were found to have stolen off to their quarters. The
General was still in a bad humor. "Where is the officer of the day?" he
asked. "At his quarters, sir," replied a sergeant. "Present him the
compliments of the General commanding, and tell him if he does not come
to the guard-tent at once, I will send a file of soldiers after him."
The officer appeared very soon. I refer to these incidents to show
simply that the men of other regiments received reprimands as well as
those of my own.

6. Late in the evening the officers of the regiment, with the string
band, started on a serenading expedition. After playing sundry airs and
singing divers songs, Ethiopian and otherwise, at the residence of a Mr.
Warren, Miss Julia Gurnie, sister of Mrs. Warren, appeared on the
veranda and made to us a very pretty Union speech. After a general
introduction to the family and a cordial reception, we bade them
good-night, and started for another portion of the village. On the way
thither we dropped into the store of a Mr. Armstrong, and imbibed rather
copiously of apple-jack, to protect us against the night air, which, by
the way, is always dangerous when apple-jack is convenient. After thus
fortifying ourselves, we proceeded to the residence of a Mr. Storey.
His doors were thrown open, and we entered his parlors. Here we had the
honor to be introduced to Miss Storey, a handsome young lady, and
Lieutenant O'Brien, nephew of Parson Brownlow.

Lieutenant O'Brien is an officer of the rebel army. He accompanied
Parson Brownlow to Nashville under a flag of truce, and has been
loitering on his way back until the present time. He wears the
Confederate gray, and when we entered the room was seated on the sofa
with Miss Storey. After being introduced in due form, I placed myself by
the young lady and endeavored to at least divide her attention with my
Confederate friend. The apple-jack dilated most engagingly on the
remarkable beauty of the evening, the pleasantness of the weather
generally, and the delightfulness of Shelbyville. There was a piano in
the room, and finally, after having occupied her attention jointly with
O'Brien for some time, I took the liberty to ask her to favor us with a
song; but she pleaded an awful cold, and asked to be excused. The
apple-jack excused her. The Storeys are pleasant people, and I trust
that, full as we were, we did nothing to lessen their respect for us.

From Mr. Storey's we went to the house of Mr. Cooper, President of the
Shelbyville Bank, but were not invited in, the family having retired.

Our last call was at the residence of Mr. Weasner, whilom member of the
Tennessee Legislature. The doors were here thrown open, and a cordial
invitation given us to enter. A pitcher of good wine was set out, and
soon after Miss Weasner, a very pretty young lady, appeared, and played
and sang many patriotic songs. When finally we bade this pleasant family
good night, it was bordering on the Sabbath, and we returned to camp.

7. Colonel Kennett, at the head of three hundred cavalry, made a dash
into the country toward the Tennessee river, captured and destroyed a
train on a branch of the Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad, and
returned to camp to-night with fifteen prisoners.

8. Party at Mr. Warren's, to which many of the officers have gone.

9. Moved at six o'clock in the morning. Roads sloppy, and in many places
overflowed. Marched sixteen miles.

10. Resumed the march at six o'clock A. M. Reached Fayetteville at noon.
Passed through the town and encamped one mile beyond. General Mitchell,
with Turchin's and Sill's brigades and two batteries, left for
Huntsville on our arrival.

There are various and contradictory rumors afloat respecting the
condition of affairs at Shiloh. The rebel sympathizers here are jubilant
over what they claim is reliable intelligence, that our army has been
surprised and defeated. Another report, coming via Nashville, says that
a part of our army was terribly beaten on Sunday; but reinforcements
arriving on Monday, the rebels were driven back, and our losses of the
first day retrieved.

A courier arrived about dark with dispatches for General Mitchell; but
they were forwarded to him unopened.

13. Confused and unsatisfactory accounts still reach us of the great
battle at Pittsburg Landing.

It is strange what fortune, good or ill, our division has had. Taking
the lead at Green river, we doubted not that a battle awaited us at
Bowling Green. In advance again on the march to Nashville, we were sure
of fighting when we reached that place. Starting again, the division
pushed on alone to Murfreesboro, Shelbyville, Fayetteville, and finally
to Huntsville and Decatur, Alabama, at each place expecting a battle,
and yet meeting with no opposition. With but one division upon this
line, we looked for hard work and great danger, and yet have found
neither. As we advanced the honors we expected to win have receded or
gone elsewhere, to be snatched up by other divisions. The boys say the
Third is fated never to see a battle; that the Third Ohio in Mexico saw
no fighting; that there is something magical in the number which
preserves it from all danger.

14. The Fifteenth Kentucky remains here. The Third and Tenth Ohio moved
at three in the afternoon. Roads bad and progress slow. Bivouacked for
the night near a distillery. Many of the men drunk; the Tenth Ohio
particularly wild.

15. Resumed the march at six in the morning. Passed the plantation of
Leonidas Polk Walker. He is said to be the wealthiest man in North
Alabama. His domain extends for fifteen miles along the road. The
overseer's house and the negro huts near it make quite a village.

Met a good many young men returning from Corinth and Pittsburg Landing.
Quite a number of them had been in the Sunday's battle, and, being
wounded, had been sent back to Huntsville. General Mitchell had captured
and released them on parole. Some had their heads bandaged, others their
arms, while others, unable to walk, were conveyed in wagons. As they
passed, our men made many good-natured remarks, as, "Well, boys, you're
tired of soldiering, ar'n't you?" "Goin' home on furlough, eh?" "Played
out." "Another bold soger boy!" "See the soger!"

At one point a hundred or more colored people, consisting of men, women,
and children, flocked to the roadside. The band struck up, and they
accompanied the regiment for a mile or more, crowding and jostling each
other in their endeavors to keep abreast of the music. The boys were
wonderfully amused, and addressed to the motley troupe all the commands
known to the volunteer service: "Steady on the right;" "Guide center;"
"Forward, double quick."

Reached Huntsville at five in the afternoon.

16. Just after sunset Colonel Keifer and I strolled into the town,
stopped at the hotel for a moment, where we saw a rebel officer in his
gray uniform running about on parole. Visited the railroad depot, where
some two hundred rebels are confined. The prisoners were variously
engaged; some chatting, others playing cards, while a few of a more
devotional turn were singing

          "Come thou fount of every blessing,
           Tune my heart to sing thy praise."

By his timely arrival General Mitchell cut a division of rebel troops in
two. Four thousand got by, and were thus enabled to join the rebel army
at Corinth, while about the same number were obliged to return to
Chattanooga.

20. At Decatur. The Memphis and Charleston Railroad crosses the
Tennessee river at this point. The town is a dilapidated old concern, as
ugly as Huntsville is handsome.

There is a canebrake near the camp, and every soldier in the regiment
has provided himself with a fishing-rod; very long, straight, beautiful
rods they are, too.

The white rebel, who has done his utmost to bring about the rebellion,
is lionized, called a plucky fellow, a great man, while the negro, who
welcomes us, who is ready to peril his life to aid us, is kicked,
cuffed, and driven back to his master, there to be scourged for his
kindness to us. Billy, my servant, tells me that a colored man was
whipped to death by a planter who lives near here, for giving
information to our men. I do not doubt it. We worm out of these poor
creatures a knowledge of the places where stores are secreted, or compel
them to serve as guides, and then turn them out to be scourged or
murdered. There must be a change in this regard before we shall be
worthy of success.

21. A detachment went to Somerville yesterday. While searching for
buried arms forty-two hundred dollars, in gold, silver, and bank-notes,
were found. The money is, undoubtedly, private property, and will, I
presume, be returned to the owner.

Fine, large fish are caught in the Tennessee. We have a buffalo for
supper--a good sort of fish--weighing six pounds.

General Mitchell has been made a Major-General. He is a deserving
officer. No other man with so few troops has ventured so far into the
enemy's country, and accomplished so much. Battles if they result
favorably are great helps to the cause, but the general who by a bold
dash accomplishes equally important results, without loss of life, is
entitled to as great praise certainly as he who fights and wins a
victory.

Colonel Keifer and I have been on horseback most of the afternoon,
examining all the roads leading from Decatur. On our way back to camp we
called at Mr. Rather's. He was a member of the Alabama Senate, favored
the secession movement, but claims now to be heartily sorry for it. He
received us cordially; introduced us to Mrs. Rather, brought in wine of
his own manufacture, and urged us to drink heartily.

23. A beautiful day has gone by and a beautiful starlit night has come.
The camp is very still. The melody of the frog, if melody it can be
called, and the ripple of the Tennessee, are the only sounds to be
heard. Thoughts of home and the quiet evenings; of youth and the gay
visions; of the thousand and one pleasant scenes in life; of what we
might have been and where we might have been, had the cards of our life
been shuffled differently; of the deeds we might do, if peradventure the
opportunity were offered, and the little we have done; all come up
to-night, and we chew the cud over and over, without being able to
determine whether it is bitter or sweet.

The enemy, three hundred strong, made a dash on our picket last night,
wounded one man, and made an unsuccessful effort to retake a bridge.

24. Our forces are on the alert. I lay down in my clothes last night, or
rather this morning, for it was between one and two o'clock when I
retired. The division is stretched over a hundred miles of railway, but
in position to concentrate in a few hours.

Before leaving this place, the rebels built a cotton fort, using in its
construction probably five hundred bales.

To-day we filled the bridge over the Tennessee with combustible
material, and put it in condition to burn readily, in case we find it
necessary to retire to the north side.

A man with his son and two daughters arrived to-night from Chattanooga,
having come all the way--one hundred and fifty miles probably--in a
small skiff.

25. Price, with ten thousand men, is reported advancing from Memphis.
Turchin had a skirmish with his advance guard near Tuscumbia.

26. Turchin's brigade returned from Tuscumbia and crossed the Tennessee.

27. The Tenth and Third crossed to the north side of the river, and
Lieutenant-Colonel Burke of the Tenth applied the torch to the bridge;
in a few minutes the fire extended along its whole length, and as we
marched away, the flames were hissing among its timbers, and the smoke
hung like a cloud above it.

28. Ordered to move to Stevenson. Took a freight train and proceeded to
Bellefonte, where we found a bridge had been burned; leaving the cars we
marched until twelve o'clock at night, and then bivouacked on the
railroad track.

29. Resumed the march at daylight; one mile beyond Stevenson we found
the Ninth Brigade, Colonel Sill, in line of battle; formed the Third in
support of Loomis' Battery, and remained in this position until two in
the afternoon, when General Mitchell arrived and ordered the Ninth
Brigade, Loomis' Battery and my regiment to move forward. At Widow's
creek we met a detachment of the enemy; a few shots from the battery and
a volley from our skirmish line drove it back, and we hastened on toward
Bridgeport, exchanging shots occasionally with the enemy on the way.

About five o'clock we formed in line of battle, on high ground in the
woods, one-half mile from Bridgeport, the Third having the right of the
column, and moved steadily forward until we came in sight of the town
and the enemy. The order to double quick was then given, and we dashed
into the village on a run. The enemy stood for a moment and then left as
fast as legs could carry him; in fact he departed in such haste that but
few muskets and one shot from a six pound gun were fired at us; one
piece of his artillery was found still loaded. We captured fifty
prisoners, a number of horses, two pieces of artillery and many muskets.
The bridge over the Tennessee had already been filled with combustible
material, and when the rear of the rebel column passed over the match
was applied; the fire extended rapidly, and we found it impossible to
proceed further.

The fright of the enemy was so great that, after getting beyond the
river a mile or more, he threw away over a thousand muskets, and
abandoned every thing that could impede his flight. Unfortunately,
however, before a raft could be constructed to convey our troops across
the river, the rebels recovered from their panic, backed down a railroad
train, and gathered up most of their arms and camp equipage.

A little more coolness on the part of our troops would have enabled us
to capture twenty-five or thirty cavalrymen, who came riding into
Bridgeport, supposing it to be still in the hands of their friends. As
they approached, a few scattering shots were fired at them by the
excited soldiers, when they wheeled and succeeded in making their
escape.

30. The troops are short of provisions; there is a grist mill near, but
the owner claims that it is out of repair, and can not be put in running
order for some days, as part of the machinery is missing. On inquiry, I
found that the owner of the mill was a rebel, and that the missing
machinery had probably been hidden by himself. I therefore said to him
that if he did not have the mill going by noon, I would burn it down;
by ten o'clock it was running, and at three in the afternoon we had an
abundance of corn meal.

A detachment of the Third under Colonel Keifer crossed the river and
reconnoitered the country beyond. It found no enemy, but returned to
camp with an abundance of bacon--an article very greatly needed by our
troops.

Started at nine o'clock P. M. for Stevenson; marched all night. Whenever
we stopped on the way to rest, the boys would fall asleep on the
roadside, and we found much difficulty in getting them through.



MAY, 1862.


1. Moved to Bellefonte.

2. Took the cars for Huntsville.

At Paint Rock the train was fired upon, and six or eight men wounded. As
soon as it could be done, I had the train stopped, and, taking a file of
soldiers, returned to the village. The telegraph line had been cut, and
the wire was lying in the street. Calling the citizens together, I said
to them that this bushwhacking must cease. The Federal troops had
tolerated it already too long. Hereafter every time the telegraph wire
was cut we would burn a house; every time a train was fired upon we
should hang a man; and we would continue to do this until every house
was burned and every man hanged between Decatur and Bridgeport. If they
wanted to fight they should enter the army, meet us like honorable men,
and not, assassin-like, fire at us from the woods and run. We proposed
to hold the citizens responsible for these cowardly assaults, and if
they did not drive these bushwhackers from amongst them, we should make
them more uncomfortable than they would be in hell. I then set fire to
the town, took three citizens with me, returned to the train, and
proceeded to Huntsville.

Paint Rock has long been a rendezvous for bushwhackers and bridge
burners. One of the men taken is a notorious guerrilla, and was of the
party that made the dash on our wagon train at Nashville.

The week has been an active one. On last Saturday night I slept a few
hours on the bridge at Decatur. The next night I bivouacked in a cotton
field; the next I lay from midnight until four in the morning on the
railroad track; the next I slept at Bridgeport on the soft side of a
board, and on the return to Stevenson I did not sleep at all. My health
is excellent.

5. Captain Cunard was sent yesterday to Paint Rock to arrest certain
parties suspected of burning bridges, tearing up the railroad track, and
bushwhacking soldiers. To-day he returned with twenty-six prisoners.

General Mitchell is well pleased with my action in the Paint Rock
matter. The burning of the town has created a sensation, and is spoken
of approvingly by the officers and enthusiastically by the men. It is
the inauguration of the true policy, and the only one that will preserve
us from constant annoyance.

The General rode into our camp this evening, and made us a stirring
speech, in which he dilated upon the rapidity of our movements and the
invincibility of our division.

8. The road to Shelbyville is unsafe for small parties. Guerrilla bands
are very active. Two or three of our supply trains have been captured
and destroyed. Detachments are sent out every day to capture or disperse
these citizen cut-throats.

10. Have been appointed President of a Board of Administration for the
post of Huntsville. After an ineffectual effort to get the members of
the Board together, I concluded to spend a day out of camp, the first
for more than six months; so I strolled over to the hotel, took a bath,
ate dinner, smoked, read, and slept until supper time, dispatched that
meal, and returned to my quarters in the cool of the evening.

We have in our camp a superabundance of negroes. One of these, a
Georgian, belonged to a captain of rebel cavalry, and fell into our
hands at Bridgeport. Since that affair he has attached himself to me.
The other negroes I do not know. In fact they are too numerous to
mention. Whence they came or whither they are going it is impossible to
say. They lie around contentedly, and are delighted when we give them an
opportunity to serve us. All the colored people of Alabama are anxious
to go "wid yer and wait on you folks." There are not fifty negroes in
the South who would not risk their lives for freedom. The man who
affirms that they are contented and happy, and do not desire to escape,
is either a falsifier or a fool.

11. Attended divine service with Captain McDougal at the Presbyterian
Church. The edifice is very fine. The audience was small; the sermon
tolerable. Troubles, the preacher said, were sent to discipline us. The
army was of God; they should, therefore, submit to it, not as slaves,
but as Christians, just as they submitted to other distasteful and
calamitous dispensations.

12. My letters from home have fallen into the hands of John Morgan. The
envelopes were picked up in the road and forwarded to me. My wife should
feel encouraged. It is not every body's letters that are pounced upon at
midnight, taken at the point of the bayonet, and read by the flickering
light of the camp-fire.

Moved at two o'clock this afternoon. Reached Athens after nightfall, and
bivouacked on the Fair Ground.

13. Marched to Elk river. A great many negroes from the neighboring
plantations came to see us, among them an elderly colored man, whose
sanctimonious bearing indicated that he was a minister of the Gospel.
The boys insisted that he should preach to them, and, after some
hesitation, the old man mounted a stump, lined a hymn from memory, sang
it, and then commenced his discourse. He had not proceeded very far when
he uttered this sentence: "De good Lord He hab called me to preach de
Gospil. Many sinners hab been wakened by my poor words to de new life.
De Lord He hab been very kind to me, an' I can nebber pay Him fur all He
done fur me."

"Never pay the Lord?" broke in the boys; "never pay the Lord? Oh! you
wicked nigger! Just hear him! He says he is never going to pay the
Lord!"

The preacher endeavored to explain: the kindness and mercy of the Lord
had been so great that it was impossible for a poor sinner to make any
sufficient return; but the boys would accept no explanation. "Here,"
they shouted, "is a nigger who will not pay the Lord!" and they groaned
and cried, "Oh! Oh!" and swore that they never saw so wicked a man
before. Fortunately for the poor colored man, a Dutchman began to
interrogate him in broken English, and the two soon fell into a
discussion of some point in theology, when the boys espoused the negro's
side of the question, and insisted that the Dutchman was no match for
him in argument. Finally, by groans and hisses, they compelled the
Dutchman to abandon the controversy, leaving the colored man well
pleased that he had vanquished his opponent and re-established himself
in the good opinion of his hearers.

14. Resumed the march at two o'clock in the morning, and proceeded to a
point known as the Lower Ferry. Ascertaining here that the enemy had
recrossed the Tennessee, and was pushing southward, we abandoned pursuit
and turned to retrace our steps to Huntsville. Leaving the regiment in
command of Colonel Keifer, I accompanied General Mitchell on the return,
and reached camp a little after dark.

16. Appointed Provost Marshal of the city. Have been busy hearing all
sorts of complaints, signing passes for all sorts of persons, sending
guards to this and that place in the city, and doing the numerous other
things necessary to be done in a city under martial law. Captain
Mitchell and Lieutenant Wilson are my assistants, and, in fact, do most
of the work. The citizens say I am the youngest Governor they ever had.

17. Captain Mitchell and I were invited to a strawberry supper at Judge
Lane's. Found General Mitchell and staff, Colonel Kennett,
Lieutenant-Colonel Birdsall, and Captain Loomis, of the army, there. Mr.
and Mrs. Judge Lane, Colonel and Major Davis, and a general, whose name
I can not recall, were the only citizens present. General Mitchell
monopolized the conversation. He was determined to make all understand
that he was the greatest of living soldiers. Had his counsel prevailed,
the Confederacy would have been knocked to pieces long ago. The evening
was a very pleasant one.

A few days ago we had John Morgan utterly annihilated; but he seems to
have gathered up the dispersed atoms and rebuilt himself. In the
destruction of our supply trains he imagines, doubtless, that he is
inflicting a great injury upon our division; but he is mistaken. The
bread and meat we fail to get from the loyal States are made good to us
from the smoke-houses and granaries of the disloyal. Our boys find
Alabama hams better than Uncle Sam's sidemeat, and fresh bread better
than hard crackers. So that every time this dashing cavalryman destroys
a provision train, their hearts are gladdened, and they shout "Bully for
Morgan!"

19. Rumor says that Richmond is in the hands of our troops; and from the
same source we learn that a large force of the enemy is between us and
Nashville. Fifteen hundred mounted men were within seventeen miles of
Huntsville yesterday. A regiment with four pieces of artillery, under
command of Colonel Lytle, was sent toward Fayetteville to look after
them.

20. The busiest time in the Provost Marshal's office is between eight
o'clock in the morning and noon. Then many persons apply for passes to
go outside the lines and for guards to protect property. Others come to
make complaints that houses have been broken open, or that horses, dogs,
and negroes, have strayed away or been stolen.

23. The men of Huntsville have settled down to a patient endurance of
military rule. They say but little, and treat us with all politeness.
The women, however, are outspoken in their hostility, and marvelously
bitter. A flag of truce came in last night from Chattanooga, and the
bearers were overwhelmed with visits and favors from the ladies. When
they took supper at the Huntsville Hotel, the large dining-room was
crowded with fair faces and bright eyes; but the men prudently held
aloof.

A day or two ago one of our Confederate prisoners died. The ladies
filled the hearse to overflowing with flowers, and a large number of
them accompanied the soldier to his last resting-place.

The foolish, yet absolute, devotion of the women to the Southern cause
does much to keep it alive. It encourages, nay forces, the young to
enter the army, and compels them to continue what the more sensible
Southerners know to be a hopeless struggle. But we must not judge these
Huntsville women too harshly. Here are the families of many of the
leading men of Alabama; of generals, colonels, majors, captains, and
lieutenants in the Confederate army; of men, even, who hold cabinet
positions at Richmond, and of many young men who are clerks in the
departments of the rebel Government. Their wives, daughters, sisters,
and sweethearts feel, doubtless, that the honor of these gentlemen, and
possibly their lives, depend upon the success of the Confederacy.

To-day two young negro men from Jackson county came in with their wives.
They were newly married, and taking their wedding journey. The vision of
a better and higher life had lured them from the old plantation where
they were born. At midnight they had stolen quietly away, plodded many
weary miles on foot, confident that the rainbow and the bag of gold were
in the camp of the Federal army.

25. This in-door life has made me ill. I am as yellow as an orange. The
doctors say I have the jaundice.



JUNE, 1862.


3. Have requested General Mitchell to relieve me from duty as Provost
Marshal; am now wholly unfit to do business.

We have heard of the evacuation of Corinth. The simple withdrawal of the
enemy amounts to but little, if anything; he still lives, is organized
and ready to do battle on some other field.

5. Go home on sick leave.

       *       *       *       *       *

25. There were three little girls on the Louisville packet, about the
age of my own children. They were great romps. I said to one, "what is
your name?" She replied "Pudin' an' tame." So I called her Pudin', and
she became very angry, so angry indeed that she cried. The other little
girls laughed heartily, and called her Pudin' also, and then asked my
name. I answered John Smith; they insisted then that Pudin' was my wife,
and called her Pudin' Smith. This made Pudin' furious, and she abused
her companions and me terribly; but John Smith invested a little money
in cherries, and thus pacified Pudin', and so got to Louisville without
getting his hair pulled. I saw no more of Pudin' until she got off the
cars at Elizabethtown. Going up to her, we shook hands, and I said,
"Good-by, Pudin'." She hung her head for a moment, and tried to look
angry, but finally breaking into a laugh she said, "I don't like you at
all any way, good-by."

27. Reached Huntsville. The regiment in good condition, boys well;
weather hot. General Buell arrived last night. McCook's Division is
here; Nelson, Crittenden, and Wood on the road hither.



JULY, 1862.


2. We know, or think we know, that a great battle has been fought near
Richmond, but the result for some reason is withheld. We speculate,
talk, and compare notes, but this makes us only the more eager for
definite information.

I am almost as well as ever, not quite so strong, but a few days will
make me right again.

3. It is exceedingly dull; we are resting as quietly and leisurely as we
could at home. There are no drills, and no expeditions. The army is
holding its breath in anxiety to hear from Richmond. If McClellan has
been whipped, the country must in time know it; if successful, it would
be rejoiced to hear it. Why, therefore, should the particulars, and even
the result of the fighting, be suppressed. Rumor gives us a thousand
conflicting stories of the battle, but rumor has many tongues and lies
with all.

General Mitchell departed for Washington yesterday.

The rebels at Chattanooga claim that McClellan has been terribly
whipped, and fired guns along their whole line, within hearing of our
troops, in honor of the victory.

A lieutenant of the Nineteenth Illinois, who fell into the enemy's
hands, has just returned on parole, and claims to have seen a dispatch
from the Adjutant-General of the Southern Confederacy, stating that
McClellan had been defeated and his army cut to pieces. He believes it.

My horse is as fat as a stall-fed ox. He has had a very easy time during
my absence.

To-morrow is the Fourth, hitherto glorious, but now, like to-day's
meridian sun, clouded, and sending out a somewhat uncertain light. Has
the great experiment failed? Shall we hail the Fourth as the birthday of
a great Nation, or weep over it as the beginning of a political
enterprise which resulted in dissolution, anarchy and ruin? Let us lift
up our eyes and be hopeful. The dawn may be even now breaking.

The boys propose to have a barbecue to-morrow, and roast a corpulent,
good-natured Ethiopian, named Cæsar. They are now discussing the matter
very voluminously, in Cæsar's presence. He thinks they are probably
joking; but still they seem to be greatly in earnest, and he knows
little of these Yankees, and thinks maybe his "massa tole him de truff
about dem, after all." "The Fourth is a great day," the boys go on to
say, "whereon Yankees always dine on roast nigger. It is a part of their
religion. It is this which makes colored folks so scarce in the North."
Shall Cæsar be stuffed or not? That is really the only question. One
party claims that if Cæsar be stuffed with vegetables and nicely
roasted, he will be delicious. The other party insists that Cæsar is
sufficiently stuffed already; vegetables would not improve him. They
have eaten roast nigger both ways and know. So the discussion waxes hot,
and the dusky Alabamian has some fear, even, that his last day may be
drawing very near.

4. Thirty-four guns were fired at noon.

5. An Atlanta paper of the 1st instant says the Confederates have won a
decisive victory at Richmond. No Northern papers have been allowed to
come into camp.

6. McCook moved toward Chattanooga. General W. S. Smith has command of
our division.

The boys have a great many game chickens. Not long ago Company G, of the
Third, and Company G, of the Tenth, had a rooster fight, the stakes
being fifteen dollars a side. After numerous attacks, retreats, charges,
and counter-charges, the Tenth rooster succumbed like a hero, and the
other was carried in triumph from the field. General Mitchell made his
appearance near the scene at the conclusion of the conflict; but,
supposing the crowd to be an enthusiastic lot of soldiers who were
cheering him, passed on, well pleased with them and himself.

The boys have a variety of information from Richmond to-day. One party
affirms that McClellan has been cut to pieces; that a dispatch to that
effect has been received by General Buell. Another insists that he has
obtained a decided advantage, and is heating the shot to burn Richmond;
while still another affirms that he has utterly destroyed Richmond,
and, Marius-like, is sitting amid the ruins of that ill-fated city,
eating sow belly and doe-christers.

7. Am detailed to serve on court-martial.


DETAIL FOR THE COURT.

          General James A. Garfield.
          Colonel Jacob Ammen.
          Colonel Curren Pope.
          Colonel Jones.
          Colonel Marc Mundy.
          Colonel Sedgewick.
          Colonel John Beatty.

Convened at Athens at ten o'clock this morning. Organized and adjourned
to meet at ten to-morrow.

General Buell proposes, I understand, to give General Mitchell's
administration of affairs in North Alabama a thorough overhauling. It is
asserted that the latter has been interested in cotton speculations; but
investigation, I am well satisfied, will show that General Mitchell has
been strictly honest, and has done nothing to compromise his honor, or
cast even the slightest shadow upon his good name.

The first case to be tried is that of Colonel J. B. Turchin, Nineteenth
Illinois. He is charged with permitting his command, the Eighth Brigade,
to steal, rob, and commit all manner of outrages.

10. Our court has been adjourning from day to day, until Colonel Turchin
should succeed in procuring counsel; but it is now in full blast.

Nelson's division is quartered here. The town is enveloped in a dense
cloud of dust.

14. There are many wealthy planters in this section. One of the
witnesses before our court has a cotton crop on hand worth sixty
thousand dollars. Another swears that Turchin's brigade robbed him of
twelve hundred dollars' worth of silver plate.

Turchin's brigade has stolen a hundred thousand dollars' worth of
watches, plate, and jewelry, in Northern Alabama. Turchin has gone to
one extreme, for war can not justify the gutting of private houses and
the robbery of peaceable citizens, for the benefit of individual
officers or soldiers; but there is another extreme, more amiable and
pleasant to look upon, but not less fatal to the cause. Buell is likely
to go to that. He is inaugurating the dancing-master policy: "By your
leave, my dear sir, we will have a fight; that is, if you are
sufficiently fortified; no hurry; take your own time." To the
bushwhacker: "Am sorry you gentlemen fire at our trains from behind
stumps, logs, and ditches. Had you not better cease this sort of
warfare? Now do, my good fellows, stop, I beg of you." To the citizen
rebel: "You are a chivalrous people; you have been aggravated by the
abolitionists into subscribing cotton to the Southern Confederacy; you
had, of course, a right to dispose of your own property to suit
yourselves, but we prefer that you would, in future, make no more
subscriptions of that kind, and in the meantime we propose to protect
your property and guard your negroes." Turchin's policy is bad enough;
it may indeed be the policy of the devil; but Buell's policy is that of
the amiable idiot. There is a better policy than either. It will
neither steal nor maraud; it will do nothing for the sake of individual
gain, and, on the other hand, it will not crouch to rebels; it will not
fear to hurt the feelings of traitors; it will not fritter away the army
and the revenue of the Government in the insane effort to protect men
who have forfeited all right to protection. The policy we need is one
that will march boldly, defiantly, through the rebel States, indifferent
as to whether this traitor's cotton is safe, or that traitor's negroes
run away; calling things by their right names; crushing those who have
aided and abetted treason, whether in the army or out. In short, we want
an iron policy that will not tolerate treason; that will demand
immediate and unconditional obedience as the price of protection.

15. The post at Murfreesboro, occupied by two regiments of infantry and
one battery, under Crittenden, of Indiana, has surrendered to the enemy.
A bridge and a portion of the railroad track between this place and
Pulaski have been destroyed. A large rebel force is said to be north of
the Tennessee. It crossed the river at Chattanooga.

18. The star of the Confederacy appears to be rising, and I doubt not it
will continue to ascend until the rose-water policy now pursued by the
Northern army is superseded by one more determined and vigorous. We
should look more to the interests of the North, and less to those of the
South. We should visit on the aiders, abettors, and supporters of the
Southern army somewhat of the severity which hitherto has been aimed at
that army only. Who are most deserving of our leniency, those who take
arms and go to the field, or those who remain at home, raising corn,
oats, and bacon to subsist them? Plain people, who know little of
constitutional hair-splitting, could decide this question only one way;
but it seems those who have charge of our armies can not decide it in
any sensible way. They say: "You would not disturb peaceable citizens by
levying contributions from them?" Why not? If the husbands, brothers,
and fathers of these people, their natural leaders and guardians, do not
care for them, why should we? If they disregard and trample upon that
law which gave all protection, and plunge the country into war, why
should we be perpetually hindered and thwarted in our efforts to secure
peace by our care for those whom they have abandoned? If we make the
country through which we pass furnish supplies to our army, the
inhabitants will have less to furnish our enemies. The surplus products
of the country should be gathered into the Federal granaries, so that
they could not, by possibility, go to feed the rebels. The loyal and
innocent might occasionally and for the present suffer, but peace when
once established would afford ample opportunity to investigate and repay
these sufferers. Shall we continue to protect the property of our
enemies, and lose the lives of our friends? It is said that it is hard
to deprive men of their horses, cattle, grain, simply because they
differ from us in opinion; but is it not harder still to deprive men of
their lives for the same reason? The opinions from which we differ in
this instance are treasonable. The man who, of his own free will,
supplies the wood is no whit better than he who kindles the fire; and
the man who supplies the ammunition neither better nor worse than he who
does the killing. The severest punishment should be inflicted upon the
soldier who appropriates either private or public property to his own
use; but the Government should lay its mailed hand upon treasonable
communities, and teach them that war is no holiday pastime.

19. Returned to Huntsville this afternoon; General Garfield with me. He
will visit our quarters to-morrow and dine with us.

General Rousseau has been assigned to the command of our division. I am
glad to hear that he discards the rose-water policy of General Buell
under his nose, and is a great deal more thorough and severe in his
treatment of rebels than General Mitchell. He sent the Rev. Mr. Ross to
jail to-day for preaching a secession sermon last Sunday. He damns the
rebel sympathizers, and says if the negro stands in the way of the Union
he must get out. Rousseau is a Kentuckian, and it is very encouraging to
learn that he talks as he does.

Turchin has been made a brigadier.

21. An order issued late last evening transferring our court from Athens
to Huntsville.

Colonel Turchin's case is still before us. No official notice of his
promotion has been communicated to the court.

23. Garfield and Ammen are our guests. They are sitting with Colonel
Keifer, in the open air, in front of our tent. We have eaten supper, and
Colonel Ammen has the floor; he always has it. He is somewhat
superstitious. He never likes to see the moon through brush. He is to
some extent a believer in dreams. On one occasion he dreamed that his
father, who was drowned, came up from the muddy water, looked angrily at
him, and endeavored to stab him with a rusty knife. In his effort to
escape he awoke. Falling to sleep again, his father reappeared and made
a second attempt to stab him. This so thoroughly aroused and troubled
him that he could not sleep. In the morning he told this dream to a
friend, and was informed that two members of his family would soon die.
Soon after he was summoned home, when he found his mother dead and his
sister dying of cholera. At another time he felt a sharp pain in the
back of his neck, and was impressed with the idea that he had been shot.
Soon afterward he learned that his brother in the South had been shot in
the back of the neck and killed. He believes that his own sensation of
pain was experienced at the very instant when his brother received the
fatal wound; but as he could not remember the precise hour when he was
startled by the disagreeable impression, he could not be positive that
the occurrences were simultaneous. When going into battle at Greenbrier
and at Shiloh, the belief that his time to die had not come rendered him
cool and fearless. He never felt more at ease or more secure. So when,
at two different times, he was very ill, and informed that he could not
live through the night, he felt absolutely sure that he would recover.

Garfield had a very impressionable relative. The night before his fight
with Humphrey Marshall, she wrote a very accurate general description of
the battle, giving the position of the troops; referring to the
reinforcements which came up, and the great shout with which they were
welcomed.

These mysterious impressions suggested the existence of an undiscovered,
or possibly an undeveloped principle in nature, which time and
investigation would ultimately make familiar.

Colonel Ammen says, "If superstition, or a belief in the supernatural,
is an indication of weakness, Napoleon and Sir Walter Scott were the
weakest of men."

With General Garfield I called on General Rousseau this morning. He is a
larger and handsomer man than Mitchell, but I think lacks the latter's
energy, culture, system, and industry.

24. We can not boast of what is occurring in this department. The tide
seems to have set against us every-where. The week of battles before
Richmond was a week of defeats. I trust the new policy indicated by the
confiscation act, just passed by Congress, will have good effect. It
will, at least, enable us to weaken the enemy, as we have not thus far
done, and strengthen ourselves, as we have hitherto not been able to do.
Slavery is the enemy's weak point, the key to his position. If we can
tear down this institution, the rebels will lose all interest in the
Confederacy, and be too glad to escape with their lives, to be very
particular about what they call their rights.

Colonel Ammen has just received notice of his confirmation as brigadier.
He is a strange combination of simplicity and wisdom, full of good
stories, and tells those against himself with a great deal more pleasure
than any others.

Colonels Turchin, Mihalotzy, Gazley, and Captain Edgerton form a group
by the window; all are smoking vigorously, and speculating probably on
the result of the present and prospective trials. Mihalotzy is what is
commonly termed "Dutch;" but whether he is from the German States,
Russia, Prussia, or Poland, I know not.

Ammen left camp early this morning, saying he would go to town and see
if he could find an idea, he was pretty nearly run out. He talks
incessantly; his narratives abound in episode, parenthesis, switches,
side-cuts, and before he gets through, one will conclude a dozen times
that he has forgotten the tale he entered upon, but he never does.

Colonel Stanley, Eighteenth Ohio, has just come in. He has in his time
been a grave and reverend senator of Ohio; he never loses sight of this
fact, and never fails to impress it upon those with whom he comes in
contact.

An order has just been issued, and is now being circulated among the
members of the court, purporting to come from General Ammen, and signed
with his name. It recites the fact of his promotion, and forbids any one
hereafter to call him Uncle Jacob, that title being entirely too
familiar and undignified for one of his rank. All who violate the order
are threatened with the direst punishment.

The General says if such orders please the court, he will not object to
their being issued; it certainly requires but very little ability to get
them up.

The General prides himself on what he calls delicate irony. He says, in
the town of Ripley, men who can not manage a dray successfully criticise
the conduct of this and that general with great severity; when they
appeal to him, he tells them quietly he has not the capacity to judge of
such matters; it requires a great mind and a thorough understanding of
all the circumstances.

After all I have said about General Ammen, it is hardly necessary to
remark that he does most of the talking.

To-day Garfield and Keifer, who of course entertain the kindliest
feelings, and the greatest respect for the General, in a spirit of fun,
entered into a conspiracy against him. They proposed for one night to do
all the talking themselves, and not allow him to edge in even a word.
After supper Garfield was to commence with the earliest incidents of his
childhood, and without allowing himself to be interrupted, continue
until he had given a complete narrative of his life and adventures; then
Keifer was to strike in and finish up the night. General Ammen was not
to be permitted to open his mouth except to yawn.

We ate supper and immediately adjourned to the adjoining tent. Before
Garfield was fairly seated on his camp stool, he began to talk with the
easy and deliberate manner of a man who had much to say. He dwelt
eloquently on the minutest details of his early life, as if they were
matters of the utmost importance. Keifer was not only an attentive
listener, but seemed wonderfully interested. Uncle Jacob undertook to
thrust in a word here and there, but Garfield was too much absorbed to
notice him, and so pushed on steadily, warming up as he proceeded.
Unfortunately for his scheme, however, before he had gone far he made a
touching reference to his mother, when Uncle Jacob, gesticulating
energetically, and with his forefinger leveled at the speaker, cried:
"Just a word--just one word right there," and so persisted until
Garfield was compelled either to yield or be absolutely discourteous.
The General, therefore, got in his word; nay, he held the floor for the
remainder of the evening. The conspirators made brave efforts to put him
down and cut him off, but they were unsuccessful. At midnight, when
Keifer and I left, he was still talking; and after we had got into bed,
he, with his suspenders dangling about his legs, thrust his head into
our tent-door, and favored us with the few observations we had lost by
reason of our hasty departure. Keifer turned his face to the wall and
groaned. Poor man! he had been hoisted by his own petard. I think Uncle
Jacob suspected that the young men had set up a job on him.

The regiment went on a foraging expedition yesterday, under Colonel
Keifer, and was some fifteen miles from Huntsville, in the direction of
the Tennessee river.

At one o'clock last night our picket was confronted by about one hundred
and fifty of the enemy's cavalry; but no shots were exchanged.

29. The rebel cavalry were riding in the mountains south of us last
night. A heavy mounted patrol of our troops was making the rounds at
midnight. There was some picket firing along toward morning; but nothing
occurred of importance.

Our forces are holding the great scope of country between Memphis and
Bridgeport, guarding bridges, railroads, and towns, frittering away the
strength of a great army, and wasting our men by permitting them to be
picked up in detail. In short, we put down from fifty to one hundred,
here and there, at points convenient to the enemy, as bait for them.
They take the bait frequently, and always when they run no risk of being
caught. The climate, and the insane effort to garrison the whole
country, consumes our troops, and we make no progress. May the good Lord
be with us, and deliver us from idleness and imbecility; and especially,
O! Lord, grant a little every-day sense--that very common sense which
plain people use in the management of their business affairs--to the
illustrious generals who have our armies in hand!

30. We have just concluded Colonel Turchin's case, and forwarded the
proceedings to General Buell.

General Ammen for many years belonged to a club, the members of which
were required either to sing a song or tell a story. He could not sing,
and, consequently, took to stories, and very few can tell one better.
The General is a member of the Episcopal Church, and, although a pious
man, emphasizes his language occasionally by an oath. When conducting
his brigade from the boat at Pittsburg Landing to position on the field,
he was compelled to pass through the immense crowd of skedaddlers who
had sought shelter under the bluffs from the storm of bullets. A
chaplain of one of the disorganized regiments was haranguing the mob in
what may be termed the whangdoodle style: "Rally, men; rally, and we may
yet be saved. O! rally! For God and your country's sake rally!
R-a-l-l-y! O-h! r-a-l-l-y around the flag of your c-o-w-n-try, my
c-o-wn-tryme-n!" "Shut up, you God damned old fool!" said Ammen, "or
I'll break your head! Get out of the way!"

General Garfield is lying on the lounge unwell. He has an attack of the
jaundice, and will, I think, start home to-morrow.

I find an article on the tables of the South, which, with coffee, I like
very much. The wheat dough is rolled very thin, cut in strips the width
of a table-knife, and about as long, baked until well done; if browned,
all the better. They become crisp and brittle, and better than the best
of crackers.

31. General Ammen is so interesting to me that I can not avoid talking
about him, especially when items are scarce, as they are now. Our court
takes a recess at one, and assembles again at half-past three, giving us
two hours and a half for dinner. To-day the conversation turned on the
various grasses North and South. After the General had described the
peculiar grasses of many sections, he drifted to the people South who
lived on farms, where he had seen a variety of grass unknown in the
North, and the following story was told:

In the part of Mississippi where he resided for a number of years, there
lived a Northern family named Greenfield. When he was there the farm was
known as the Greenfield farm. It was the peculiar grass on this farm
which suggested the story. The Greenfields were Quakers, originally from
Philadelphia. One of the wealthiest members of the family was a little
weazen-faced old maid, of fifty years or more. Her overseer was a large,
fine looking young man named Roach. After he had been in her service a
year she took a fancy to him, and proposed to give him twenty thousand
dollars if he would marry her. He accepted, and they were duly married.
A year after she grew tired of wedlock, and proposed to give thirty
thousand dollars to be unmarried. He accepted this proposition also.
They united in a petition for a divorce and obtained it. Roach took the
fifty thousand dollars thus made and invested it in the Yazoo country.
The property increased in value rapidly, and he soon became a
millionaire. When General Ammen saw him, he had married again more to
his liking, and was one of the prominent men in his section.

The farm of the Gillyards lay near that of the Greenfields, and this
suggested another story. A Miss Gillyard was a great heiress; owned
plantations in Mississippi, and an interest in a large estate in South
Carolina. A doctor of prepossessing appearance came from the latter
State, and commenced practice in the neighborhood, and an acquaintance
of a few months resulted in a marriage. After living together a year
very happily, they started on a visit to South Carolina; she to visit
relatives and look after her interest in the estate mentioned, and he to
see his friends. On the way it was agreed that he should attend to his
wife's business, and so full power to sell or dispose of the property,
or her interest therein, was given him. At Charleston she was met by the
relatives with whom she was to remain, while the Doctor proceeded to a
different part of the State to see his friends, and afterward attend to
business. When about to separate, like a jolly soul, he proposed that
they should drink to each other's health during the separation. The wine
was produced; they touched glasses, and raised them to their lips, when
the door opened suddenly and the Doctor was called. Setting his wine on
the table, he stepped out of the room, and the wife, more affectionate,
possibly, than most women, took the glass which his lips had touched and
put her own in its place. The husband reappeared shortly, and they drank
off the wine. In an hour he was dead, and she in the deepest affliction.
After she had recovered somewhat from the shock, she left Charleston to
visit his people. She found them poor, and that he had a wife and three
children. The truth then broke in upon her; he had drank the wine
prepared for her.

This story suggested one involving some of Miss Gillyard's relations.

Two lady cousins resided in the same town. The father of one had amassed
a handsome fortune in the tailoring business. The father of the other
had been a saddler, and, carrying on the business extensively, had also
become wealthy. The descendant of the saddler would refer to her
cousin's father as the tailor, and intimate that his calling was
certainly not that of a gentleman. The other hearing of this, and
meeting her one evening at a large party, said: "Cousin Julia, I hear
that you have said my father was nothing but a tailor. Now, this is
true; he was a tailor, and a very good one, too. By his industry and
judgment he made a large fortune, which I am enjoying. I respect him; am
grateful, and not ashamed of him, if he was a tailor. Your father was a
saddler, and a very good one. He, by industry and good management,
accumulated great wealth, which you are enjoying. I see no reason,
therefore, why we should not both be proud of our fathers, and I
certainly can see no reason why a man-tailor should not be just as good
as a horse-tailor."



AUGUST, 1862.


1. The Judge-Advocate, Captain Swayne, was unwell this morning. The
court, therefore, took a recess until three o'clock. Captain Edgerton's
case was disposed of last evening. Colonel Mihalotzy's will come before
us to-day. A court-martial proceeds always with due respect to red tape.
The questions to witnesses are written out; the answers are written
down; the statement of the accused is in writing, and the defense of the
accused's counsel is written; so that the court snaps its fingers at
time, as if it were of no consequence, and seven men, against whom there
are no charges, are likely to spend their natural lives in investigating
seven men, more or less, against whom there are charges. It is thus the
rebels are being subjugated, the Union re-united, the Constitution and
the laws enforced.

3. Among the curiosities in camp are two young coons and a pet opossum.
The latter is the property of Augustus Cæsar, the esquire of Adjutant
Wilson. Cæsar restrains the opossum with a string, and looks forward
with great pleasure to the time when he will be fat enough to eat. The
coons are just now playing on the wild cherry tree in front of my tent,
and several colored boys are watching them with great interest. One of
these, a native Alabamian, tells me "de coon am a great fiter; he can
wip a dog berry often; but de possum can wip de coon, for he jist takes
one holt on de coon, goes to sleep, an' nebber lets go; de coon he
scratch an' bite, but de possum he nebber min'; he keeps his holt, shuts
his eyes, and bimeby de coon he knocks under. De she coon am savager dan
de he coon. I climbed a tree onct, an' de she coon come out ob her hole
mitey savage, an' I leg go, an' tumbled down to de groun', and like ter
busted my head. De she coon am berry savage. De possum can't run berry
fast, but de coon can run faster'n a dog. You can tote a possum, but you
can't tote a coon, he scratch an' bite so."

The gentlemen of the South have a great fondness for jewelry, canes,
cigars, and dogs. Out of forty white men thirty-nine, at least, will
have canes, and on Sunday the fortieth will have one also. White men
rarely work here. There are, it is true, tailors, merchants, saddlers,
and jewelers, but the whites never drive teams, work in the fields, or
engage in what may be termed rough work.

Judging from the number of stores and present stocks, Huntsville, in the
better times, does a heavier retail jewelry business than Cleveland or
Columbus. Every planter, and every wealthy or even well-to-do man, has
plate. Diamonds, rings, gold watches, chains, and bracelets are to be
found in every family. The negroes buy large amounts of cheap jewelry,
and the trade in this branch is enormous. One may walk a whole day in a
Northern city without seeing a ruffled shirt. Here they are very common.

The case of Colonel Mihalotzy was concluded to-day.

5. General Ammen was a teacher for years at West Point, at Natchez,
Mississippi, in Kentucky, Indiana, and recently at Ripley, Ohio. He has
devoted particular attention to the education of children, and has no
confidence in the usual mode of teaching them. He labors to strengthen
or cultivate, first: _attention_, and to this end never allows their
interest in anything to flag; whenever he discovers that their minds
have become weary of a subject, he takes the book from them and turns
their thought in a new direction. Nor does he allow their attention to
be divided between two or three objects at the same time. By his method
they acquire the power to concentrate their whole mind upon a given
subject. The next thing to be cultivated is _observation_; teach them to
notice whatever may be around, and describe it. What did you see when
you came up street? The child may answer a pig. What is a pig, how did
it look, describe it. Saw a man, did you? Was he large or small? How was
he dressed? A room? What is a room? Thus will they be taught to observe
everything, and to talk about what they observe, and learn not only to
think but to express their thoughts. He often amuses them by what he
terms opposites. To illustrate: He will say "black," the child will
answer "white." Long, short; good, bad; heavy, light; dark, light.
"What kind of light," he will ask, "is that kind which is the opposite
of heavy?" Here is a puzzle for them. Next in importance to observation,
and to be strengthened at the same time, is the _memory_. They are
required to learn little pieces; short stories perhaps, or songs that
their minds can comprehend; not too long, for neither the memory nor the
attention should be overtaxed.

7. As General Ammen and I were returning to camp this evening, we were
joined by Colonel Fry, of General Buell's staff, who informed us that
General Robert McCook was murdered, near Winchester, yesterday, by a
small band of guerrillas. McCook was unwell, riding in an ambulance some
distance in advance of the column; while stopping in front of a
farm-house to make some enquiry, the guerrillas made a sudden dash, the
escort fled, and McCook was killed while lying in the ambulance
defenseless. When the Dutchmen of his old regiment learned of the
unfortunate occurrence they became uncontrollable, and destroyed the
buildings and property on five plantations near the scene of the murder.
McCook had recently been promoted for gallantry at Mill Springs. He was
a brave, bluff, talented man, and his loss will be sorely felt.

Captain Mitchell started home in charge of a recruiting party this
morning. I am anxious to fill the regiment to a thousand strong.

8. General Ammen was at Buell's quarters this evening, and ascertains
that hot work is expected soon. The enemy is concentrating a heavy
force between Bridgeport and Chattanooga.

The night is exceedingly beautiful; our camp lies at the foot of a low
range of mountains called the Montesano; the sky seems supported by
them. A cavalry patrol is just coming down the road, on its return to
camp, and the men are singing:

          "An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain,
           Oh! give me my lowly thatched cottage again;
           The birds singing gayly, that came at my call,
           Give me them, with the peace of mind dearer than all.
             Home, home, sweet home, there is no place like home;
                   There is no place like home."

9. I have sometimes wondered how unimportant occurrences could suggest
so much, but the faculty of association brings similar things before the
mind, and a thousand collateral subjects as well. The band of the Tenth
Ohio is playing. Where, and under what circumstances, have I heard other
bands? The question carries my thoughts into half the States of the
Union, into a multitude of places, into an innumerable variety of
scenes--faces, conversations, theatres, balls, speeches, songs--the
chain is endless, and it might be followed for a lifetime.

10. The enemy, a thousand strong, is said to be within five miles of us.
One hundred and sixty-five men of the Third, under Major Lawson, and
five companies of cavalry, the whole commanded by Colonel Kennett, left
at two o'clock to reconnoiter the front; they will probably go to the
river unless the enemy is met on the way.

A negro came in about four o'clock to report that the enemy's pickets
were at his master's house, five miles from here, at the foot of the
other slope of the mountain. He was such an ignorant fellow that his
report was hardly intelligible. We sent him back, telling him to bring
us more definite information. He was a field hand, bare-footed,
horny-handed, and very black, but he knew all about "de mountings; dey
can't kotch him nohow. If de sesesh am at Massa Bob's when I git back, I
come to-night an' tell yer all." With these words, this poor proprietor
of a dilapidated pair of pants and shirt, started over the mountains.
What are his thoughts about the war, and its probable effects on his own
fortunes, as he trudges along over the hills? Is it the desire for
freedom, or the dislike for his overseer, that prompts him to run five
miles of a Sunday to give this information? Possibly both.

Cæsar said to the Adjutant, "Massa Wilson, may I go to church?" "What do
you want to go church for, Cæsar?" "To hear de Gospel." One day Cæsar
said to me, "Co'nel, you belongs to de meetin don't you?" "Why so,
Cæsar?" "Kase I nebber heard you swar any."

To-day one of the pet coons got after a chicken. A young half-naked
negro took after the coon; and a long and crooked chase the chicken,
coon, and negro had of it.

12. At five o'clock the members of the court met to say good-by, and
drink a dozen bottles of Scotch ale at General Ammen's expense. This was
quite a spree for the General, and quite his own spree. It was a big
thing, equal almost to the battle of "Shealoh." They were pint bottles,
and the General would persist in acting upon the theory that one bottle
would fill all our glasses. Seeing the glasses empty he would call for
another bottle, and say to us, "Gentlemen, I have ordered another
bottle." The General evidently drinks, when he imbibes at all, simply to
be social, and a thimble-full would answer his purpose as well as a
barrel.

The court called on General Buell; he is cold, smooth-toned, silent, the
opposite of Nelson, who is ardent, loud-mouthed, and violent.

17. Colonel Keifer has just received a telegram informing him that he
has been appointed Colonel of the One Hundred and Tenth Ohio. I regret
his departure too much to rejoice over his promotion. He has been a
faithful officer, always prompt and cheerful; much better qualified to
command the regiment than its Colonel.

Watermelons, peaches, nectarines, are abundant. Peaches thrive better in
this climate than apples. I have eaten almost the whole of a watermelon
to-day, and am somewhat satiated. The melon had a cross (+) on the rind.
I enquired of the negro who brought it in, what the mark meant, and he
replied, "de patch war owned principally by a good many niggars, sah,
an' dey dewided dem afore day got ripe, an' put de mark on de rine, to
show dat de p'tic'lar melon belonged to a p'tic'lar niggar, sah."

Governor Tod is damaging the old regiments by injudicious promotions. He
does in some instances, it is true, reward faithful soldiers; but often
complaining, unwilling, incompetent fellows are promoted, who get upon
the sick list to avoid duty; lay upon their backs when they should be on
their feet, and are carousing when they should be asleep. On the march,
instead of pushing along resolutely at the head of their command, they
fall back and get into an ambulance. The troops have no confidence in
them; their presence renders a whole company worthless, and this company
contributes greatly to the demoralization of a regiment.

22. A little vine has crept into my tent and put out a handsome flower.

General Buell and staff, with bag and baggage, left this morning.

25. Ordered to move.

29. We are at Decherd, Tennessee. I am weak, discouraged, and worn out
with idleness.

The negroes are busily engaged throwing up earth works and building
stockades. To-night, as they were in line, I stopped a moment to hear
the sergeant call the roll, "Scipio McDonald." "Here I is, sah."
"Cæsar--Cæsar McDonald." "Cæsar was 'sleep las' I saw ob him, sah."
These negroes take the family name of their masters.

The whole army is concentrated here, or near here; but nobody knows
anything, except that the water is bad, whisky scarce, dust abundant,
and the air loaded with the scent and melody of a thousand mules. These
long-eared creatures give us every variety of sound of which they are
capable, from the deep bass bray to the most attenuated whinny.

The Thirty-third Ohio was shelled out of its fortifications at Battle
creek yesterday. Colonel Moore is in the adjoining tent, giving an
account of his trials and tribulations to Shanks of the New York Herald.

Fifty of the Third, under Lieutenant Carpenter, went to Stevenson
yesterday; on their return they were fired upon by guerrillas. Jack
Boston shot a man and captured a horse.



SEPTEMBER, 1862.


4. Army has fallen back to Murfreesboro.

5. At Nashville.

6. To-night we cross the Cumberland.

7. Bivouacked in Edgefield, at the north end of the railroad bridge.
Troops pouring over the bridge and pushing North rapidly. One of Loomis'
men was shot dead last night while attempting to run by a sentinel.

10. The moving army with its immense transportation train, raises such a
cloud of dust that it is impossible to see fifty yards ahead.

11. Arrived at Bowling Green. The two armies are running a race for the
Ohio river. At this time Bragg has the lead.



OCTOBER, 1862.


3. At Taylorsville, Kentucky. Our first day's march out of Louisville
was disagreeable beyond precedent. The boys had been full of whisky for
three days, and fell out of the ranks by scores. The road for sixteen
miles was lined with stragglers. The new men bore the march badly. Rain
fell yesterday afternoon and during the night; I awoke at three o'clock
this morning to find myself lying in a puddle of water. A soldier of
Captain Rossman's company was wrestling with another, and being thrown,
died almost instantly from the effect of the fall.

4. At Bloomfield. Shelled the rebels out of the woods in which we are
now bivouacking, and picked up a few prisoners. The greater part of the
rebel army is, we are told, at Bardstown--twelve miles away.

5. Still at Bloomfield, in readiness to move at a moment's notice.

7. Moved to Maxville, and bivouacked for the night.


PERRYVILLE.

8. Started in the early morning toward Perryville. The occasional boom
of guns at the front notified us that the enemy was not far distant. A
little later the rattle of musketry mingled with the roar of artillery,
and we knew the vanguard was having lively work. The boys marched well
and were in high spirits; the long-looked for battle appeared really
near, and that old notion that the Third was fated never to see a fight
seemed now likely to be exploded. At ten o'clock we were hastened
forward and placed in battle line on the left of the Maxville and
Perryville road; the cavalry in our front appeared to be seriously
engaged, and every eye peered eagerly through the woods to catch a
glimpse of the enemy. But in a little while the firing ceased, and with
a feeling of disappointment the boys lounged about on the ground and
logs awaiting further orders.

They came very soon. At 11 A. M. the Third was directed to take the head
of the column and move forward. We anticipated no danger, for Rousseau
and his staff were in advance of us, followed by Lytle and his staff.
The regiment was marching by the flank, and had proceeded to the brow of
the hill overlooking a branch of the Chaplin river, and was about to
descend into the valley, when the enemy's artillery opened in front with
great fury. Rousseau and his staff wheeled suddenly out of the road to
the left, accompanied by Lytle. After a moment spent by them in
consultation, I was ordered to countermarch my regiment to the bottom of
the hill we had just ascended, and file off to the right of the road.

Loomis' and Simonson's Batteries were soon put in position, and began
to reply to the enemy. A furious interchange of shell and solid shot
occurred, but after a little while our batteries ceased firing, and we
had comparative silence.

About 2 o'clock the rebel infantry was seen advancing across the valley,
and I ordered the Third to ascend the hill and take position on the
crest. The enemy's batteries now reopened with redoubled fury, and the
air seemed filled with shot and exploding shells. Finding the rebels
were still too far away to make our muskets effective, I ordered the
boys to lie down and await their nearer approach. They advanced under
cover of a house on the side hill, and having reached a point one
hundred and fifty yards distant, deployed behind a stone fence which was
hidden from us by standing corn. At this time the left of my regiment
rested on the Maxville and Perryville road; the line extending along the
crest of the hill, and the right passing somewhat behind a barn filled
with hay. In this position, with the enemy's batteries pouring upon us a
most destructive fire, the Third arose and delivered its first volley.
For a time, I do not know how long thereafter, it seemed as if all hell
had broken loose; the air was filled with hissing balls; shells were
exploding continuously, and the noise of the guns was deafening; finally
the barn on the right took fire, and the flames bursting from roof,
windows, doors, and interstices between the logs, threw the right of the
regiment into disorder; the confusion, however, was but temporary. The
boys closed up to the left, steadied themselves on the colors, and stood
bravely to the work. Nearly two hundred of my five hundred men now lay
dead and wounded on the little strip of ground over which we fought.

Colonel Curren Pope, of the Fifteenth Kentucky, whose regiment was being
held in reserve at the bottom of the hill, had already twice requested
me to retire my men and allow him to take the position. Finding now that
our ammunition was exhausted, I sent him notice, and as his regiment
marched to the crest the Third was withdrawn in as perfect order, I
think, as it ever moved from the drill-ground. The Fifteenth made a
gallant fight, and lost heavily both in officers and men; in fact, the
Lieutenant-Colonel and Major fell mortally wounded while it was moving
into position. Colonel Pope was also wounded, but not so seriously as to
prevent his continuing in command. The enemy getting now upon its right
and rear, the regiment was compelled to retire from the crest.

After consultation with Colonel Pope, it was determined to move our
regiments to the left, and form a line perpendicular to the one
originally taken, and thus give protection to the rear and right of the
troops on our left. The enemy observing this movement, and accepting it
as an indication of withdrawal, advanced rapidly toward us, when I about
faced my regiment, and ordered the men to fix bayonets and move forward
to meet him; but before we had proceeded many yards, I was overtaken by
Lieutenant Grover, of Colonel Lytle's staff, with an order to retire.

Turning into a ravine a few rods distant, we found an ammunition wagon,
and, under a dropping fire from the enemy, refilled our empty cartridge
boxes. Ascertaining while here that Colonel Lytle was certainly wounded,
and probably killed, I reported at once for duty to Colonel Len. Harris,
commanding Ninth Brigade of our division; but night soon thereafter put
an end to the engagement.

We bivouacked in a corn-field. The regiment had grown suddenly small. It
was a sorry night for us indeed. Every company had its long list of
killed, wounded, and missing. Over two hundred were gone. Nearly two
hundred, we felt quite sure, had fallen dead or disabled on the field.
Many eyes were in tears, and many hearts were bleeding for lost comrades
and dear friends. General Rousseau rides up in the darkness, and, as we
gather around him, says, in a voice tremulous with emotion: "Boys of the
Third, you stood in that withering fire like men of iron." They did.

They are thirsty and hungry. Few, however, think either of food or
water. Their thoughts are on the crest of that little hill, where
Cunard, McDougal, St. John, Starr, and scores of others lie cold in
death. They think of the wounded and suffering, and speak to each other
of the terrible ordeal through which they have passed, with bated breath
and in solemn tones, as if a laugh, or jest, or frivolous word, would be
an insult to the slain.

They have long sought for a battle, and often been disappointed and sore
because they failed to find one; but now, for the first time, they
really realize what a battle is. They see it is to men what an arctic
wind is to autumn leaves, and are astonished to find that any have
outlived the furious storm of deadly missiles.

The enemy is in the woods before us, and as the sentinels occasionally
exchange shots, we can see the flash of their guns and hear the whistle
of bullets above our heads. The two armies are too near to sleep
comfortably, or even safely, so the boys cling to their muskets and keep
ready for action. It is a long night, but it finally comes to an end.

9. The enemy has disappeared, and we go to the hill where our fight
occurred. Within the compass of a few rods we find a hundred men of the
Third and Fifteenth lying stiff and cold. Beside these there are many
wounded, whom we pick up tenderly, carry off and provide for. Men are
already digging trenches, and in a little while the dead are gathered
together for interment. We have looked upon such scenes before; but then
the faces were strange to us. Now they are the familiar faces of
intimate personal friends, to whom we are indebted for many kindly acts.
We hear convulsive sobs, see eyes swollen and streaming with tears, and
as our fallen comrades are deposited in their narrow grave, the lines of
Wolfe recur to us:

          "No useless coffin inclosed his breast;
             Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him,
           But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
             With his martial cloak around him.

       *       *       *       *       *

          Slowly and sadly we laid him down
            From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
          We carved not a line, we raised not a stone,
            But left him alone with his glory."

13. We are in a field near Harrodsburg. Moved yesterday from Perryville.
We are without tents. Rain is falling, and the men uncomfortable.

Many, perhaps most, of the boys of the regiment disliked me thoroughly.
They thought me too strict, too rigid in the enforcement of orders; but
now they are, without exception, my fast friends. During the battle of
Chaplin Hills, while the enemy's artillery was playing upon us with
terrible effect, I ordered them to lie down. The shot, shell, and
canister came thick as hail, hissing, exploding, and tearing up the
ground around us. There was a universal cry from the boys that I should
lie down also; but I continued to walk up and down the line, watching
the approaching enemy, and replied to their entreaties, "No; it is my
time to stand guard now, and I will not lie down."

Meeting Captain Loomis yesterday, he said: "Do you know you captured a
regiment at Chaplin Hills?" "I do not." "Yes, you captured the Third.
You have not a man now who wouldn't die for you."

I have been too much occupied of late to record even the most
interesting and important events. I should like to preserve the names of
the private soldiers who behaved like heroes in the battle; but I have
only time to mention the fact that our colors changed hands seven times
during the engagement. Six of our color bearers were either killed or
wounded, and as the sixth man was falling, a soldier of Company C, named
David C. Walker, a boyish fellow, whose cheeks were ruddy as a girl's,
and who had lost his hat in the fight, sprang forward, caught the
falling flag, then stepping out in front of the regiment, waved it
triumphantly, and carried it to the end of the battle.

On the next morning I made him color bearer, and undertook to thank him
for his gallantry, but my eyes filled and voice choked, and I was unable
to articulate a word. He understood me, doubtless.

If it had not been for McCook's foolish haste, it is more than probable
that Bragg would have been most thoroughly whipped and utterly routed.
As it was, two or three divisions had to contend for half a day with one
of the largest and best disciplined of the Confederate armies, and that,
too, when our troops in force were lying but a few miles in the rear,
ready and eager to be led into the engagement. The whole affair is a
mystery to me. McCook is, doubtless, to blame for being hasty; but may
not Buell be censurable for being slow? And may it not be true that this
butchery of men has resulted from the petty jealousies existing between
the commanders of different army corps and divisions?

19. Encamped in a broken, hilly field, five miles south of Crab Orchard.
From Perryville to this place, there has been each day occasional
cannonading; but this morning I have heard no guns. The Cumberland
mountains are in sight. We are pushing forward as fast probably as it is
possible for a great army to move. Buell is here superintending the
movement.

24. In the woods near Lebanon, and still without tents. Bragg has left
Kentucky, and is thought to be hastening toward Nashville. We shall
follow him. Having now twice traveled the road, the march is likely to
prove tedious and uninteresting. The army has been marching almost
constantly for two months, and bivouacking at night with an
insufficiency of clothing.

The troops are lying in an immense grove of large beech. We have had
supper, and a very good one, by the way: pickled salmon, currant jelly,
fried ham, butter, coffee, and crackers. It is now long after nightfall,
and the forest is aglow with a thousand camp-fires. The hum of ten
thousand voices strikes the ear like the roar of a distant sea. A band
away off to the right is mingling its music with the noise, and a mule
now and then breaks in with a voice not governed by any rules of melody
known to man.



NOVEMBER, 1862.


9. In camp at Sinking Spring, Kentucky. Thomas commands the Fourteenth
Army Corps, consisting of Rousseau's, Palmer's, Dumont's, Negley's, and
Fry's divisions; say 40,000 men. McCook has Sill's, Jeff C. Davis', and
Granger's; say 24,000. Crittenden has three divisions, say 24,000. A
large army, which ought to sweep to Mobile without difficulty.

Sinking Spring, as it is called by some, Mill Spring by others, and by
still others Lost river, is quite a large stream. It rises from the
ground, runs forty rods or more, enters a cave, and is lost. The wreck
of an old mill stands on its banks. Bowling Green is three miles
southward.

When we get a little further south, we shall find at this season of the
year persimmons and opossums in abundance. Jack says: "Possum am better
dan chicken. In de fall we hunt de possum ebbery night 'cept Sunday. He
am mitey good an' fat, sah; sometimes he too fat."

We move at ten o'clock to-morrow.

11. We have settled down at Mitchellville for a few days. After dinner
Furay and I rode six miles beyond this, on the road to Nashville, to the
house of a Union farmer whose acquaintance I made last spring. The old
gentleman was very glad to see us, and insisted upon our remaining until
after supper. In fact, he urged us to stay all night; but we consented
to remain for supper only, and would not allow him to put our horses in
the stable.

We learned that a little over a week ago the rebels endeavored to
enforce the conscription law in this neighborhood, and one of Mr.
Baily's sons was notified to appear at Gallatin to enter the Southern
army. He was informed that if he did not appear voluntarily at the
appointed time, he would be taken, either dead or alive. He did not go,
and since has been constantly on the watch, expecting the guerrilla
bands, which rendezvous at Tyree Springs, ten miles distant, to come for
the purpose of taking him away. When, therefore, he saw Furay and me
galloping up to the house, he mounted his horse and rode for the woods
as fast as his steed could carry him. After we had been there half an
hour, he returned, and, while shaking hands with us, said: "You scared
me out of a full year's growth."

Morgan, with a force, the strength of which is variously estimated,
passed near this a few days ago. Many of Mr. Baily's neighbors are
members of the guerrilla bands, and all of them willing spies and
informers.

We had a splendid supper: chicken, pork, ham, milk, pumpkin pie; in
short, there was every thing on the table that a hungry man could
desire.

I had introduced Mr. Furay as the correspondent of the Cincinnati
Gazette; but the good folks, not understanding this long title exactly,
dubbed him Doctor. There were three strapping girls in the family, who
did not make their appearance until they had taken time to put on their
Sunday clothes. To one of these the Doctor paid special attention, and
finally won his way so far into her good favor as to induce her to play
him a tune on the dulcimer, an abominable instrument, which she pounded
with two little sticks. The Doctor declared that the music was
good--excellent--charming. He now attempts to get out of this outrageous
falsehood by affirming that he referred simply to the air--the tune--and
not to the manner in which it was executed by the young lady. This,
however, is a mere quibble.

It was quite dark when we said good-by to this kind-hearted, excellent
family, and started on our way back to camp. The woods were on fire for
miles along the road. Many fences and farm buildings had caught. One
large house tumbled in as we were passing, and the fences,
out-buildings, and trees were all enveloped in flames. While riding
slowly forward, and looking back upon the dense cloud of smoke, the
flames stretching as far almost as the eye could reach, the dry trees
standing up like immense pillars of fire, we were startled not a little
by the sentinel's challenge, "Halt!" There had been no pickets on the
road when we were going out, and we were, therefore, uncertain whether
the challenge came from our own men or those of John Morgan. "Who comes
there?" continued the sentinel. "Friends." "Advance friends, and give
the countersign." Going up to the sentinel, I told him who we were, and
that we had not the countersign. After a little delay, the officer of
the guard came and allowed us to proceed.

12. To-day farmer Baily came to see us. I sent his good wife a haversack
of coffee, to remunerate her somewhat for the excellent dinner she had
given us. He urged us to come again, and said they would have a turkey
prepared for us this afternoon; but I declined with thanks.

15. At eight o'clock to-morrow morning we shall move to Tyree Springs, a
little village situated in the heart of a wild, broken tract of country,
which, of late, has been a favorite rendezvous for guerrillas and
highwaymen. Citizens and soldiers traveling to and from Nashville,
during the last two months, have, at or near this place, been compelled
to empty their pockets, and when their clothes were better than those of
their captors, have been compelled to spare them also.

We have no certain information as to the enemy's whereabouts. One rumor
says he is at Lavergne, another locates him at Murfreesboro, and still
another puts him at Chattanooga. General Rosecrans is now in command,
and, urged on by the desires of the North, may follow him to the latter
place this winter. A man from whom the people are each day expecting
some extraordinary action, some tremendous battle, in which the enemy
shall be annihilated, is unfortunately situated, and likely very soon to
become unpopular. It takes two to make a fight, as it does to make a
bargain. General John Pope is the only warrior of modern times who can
find a battle whenever he wants to, and take any number of prisoners his
heart desires. Even his brilliant achievements, however, afford the
people but temporary satisfaction, for, upon investigation, they are
unable to find either the captives or the discomfited hosts.

I predict that in twelve months Rosecrans will be as unpopular as Buell.
After the affair at Rich mountain, the former was a great favorite. When
placed in command of the forces in Western Virginia, the people expected
hourly to hear of Floyd's destruction; but after a whole summer was
spent in the vain endeavor to chase down the enemy and bring him to
battle, they began to abuse Rosecrans, and he finally left that
department, much as Buell has left this. Our generals should,
undoubtedly, do more, but our people should certainly expect less.

19. At Tyree Springs. Am the presiding officer of a court-martial.

The supplies for the great army at Nashville and beyond, are wagoned
over this road from Mitchellville to Edgefield Junction. Immense trains
are passing continually.

20. General Bob Mitchell dined with me to-day. He is on the way to
Nashville. Blows his own trumpet, as of old, and expects that a division
will be given him.

30. This is a delightful Indian summer day. I have been in the forest,
under the persimmon and butternut trees. It is the first ramble I have
had at this season for years, and I thought of the many quiet places in
the thick woods of the old homestead, where long ago I hunted for
hickory-nuts and walnuts; then of its hazel thickets, through which were
scattered the wild plum, black-haw, and thorn-apple--perfect solitudes,
in which the squirrels and birds had the happiest of times. How pleasant
it is to recur to those days; and how well I remember every path through
the dense woods, and every little open grassy plot, made brilliant by
the summer sunshine.



DECEMBER, 1862.


2. We move to-morrow, at six o'clock in the morning, to Nashville.

9. Nashville. Every thing indicates an early movement. Whether a
reconnoissance is intended or a permanent advance, I do not even
undertake to guess. The capture of a brigade, at Hartsville, by John
Morgan, has awakened the army into something like life; before it was
idly awaiting the rise of the Cumberland, but this bold dash of the
rebels has made it bristle up like an angry boar; and this morning, I am
told, it starts out to show its tusks to the enemy. Our division has
been ordered to be in readiness.

The kind of weather we desire now, is that which is generally considered
the most disagreeable, namely, a long rain; two weeks of rain-fall is
necessary to make the Cumberland navigable, and thus ensure to us
abundant supplies.

The whole army feels deeply mortified over the loss of the brigade at
Hartsville; report says it was captured by an inferior force. One of our
regiments did not fire a gun, and certainly the other two could not have
made a very obstinate resistance. I am glad Ohio does not have to bear
the whole blame; two-thirds is rather too much.

10. During all of the latter part of last night troops were pouring
through Nashville, and going southward. Our division, Rousseau's, moved
three miles beyond the city, and went into camp on the Franklin road.

14. Our court has been holding its sessions in the city, but to-day it
adjourned to meet at division head-quarters to-morrow at ten o'clock A.
M.

The most interesting character of our court-martial is Colonel H. C.
Hobart, of the Twenty-first Wisconsin; a gentleman who has held many
important public positions in his own State, and whose knowledge of the
law, fondness for debate, obstinacy in the maintenance of his opinions,
love of fun, and kind-heartedness, are immense. He makes use of the
phrase, "in my country," when he refers to any thing which has taken
place in Wisconsin; from this we infer that he is a foreigner, and
pretend to regard him as a savage from the great West. He has,
therefore, been dubbed Chief of the Wisconsins. The court occasionally
becomes exceedingly mellow of an evening, and then the favorite theme is
the "injin." Such horrible practices as dog eating and cannibalism are
imputed to the Chief. To-night we visited the theater to witness
Ingomar. On returning to our room at Bassay's restaurant, the members
took solemn Irish oaths that the man with the sheep-skin on his back,
purporting to be Ingomar, was no other than Hobart, the Wisconsin
savage; and the supposition that such an individual could ever reform,
and become fitted for civilized society, was a monstrous fiction, too
improbable even for the stage.

It should not be presumed from this, however, that the subject of our
raillery holds his tongue all the time. On the contrary, he expresses
the liveliest contempt for the opinions of his colleagues of the
court-martial, and professes to think if it were not for the aid which
the Nation receives from his countrymen, the Wisconsins, the effort to
restore the Union would be an utter failure.

Bassay's restaurant is a famous resort for military gentlemen.
Major-General Hamilton just now took dinner; Major-General Lew Wallace,
Brigadier-Generals Tyler and Schoepf, and Major Donn Piatt occupy rooms
on the floor above us, and take their meals here; so that we move in the
vicinity of the most illustrious of men. We are hardly prepared now to
say that we are on intimate terms with the gentlemen who bear these
historic names; but we are at least allowed to look at them from a
respectful distance. A few years hence, when they are so far away as to
make contradiction improbable, if not impossible, we may claim to have
been their boon companions, and to have drank and played whist with them
in the most genial and friendly way.

16. This afternoon Negley sent over a request for help, stating that his
forage train had been attacked. The alarm, however, proved groundless. A
few shots only had been fired at the foragers.

17. The news from Fredericksburg has cast a shadow over the army. We
did hope that Burnside would be successful, and thus brighten the
prospect for a speedy peace; but we are in deeper gloom now than ever.
The repulse at Fredericksburg, while it has disabled thousands, has
disheartened, if not demoralized a great army, and given confidence and
strength to the rebels every-where. It may be, however, that this defeat
was necessary to bring us clearly to the point of extinguishing slavery
in all the States. The time is near when the strength of the President's
resolution in this regard will be put to the test. I trust he will be
firm. The mere reconstruction of the Union on the old basis would not
pay humanity for all the blood shed since the war began. The extinction
of slavery, perhaps, will.

While the North raises immense numbers of men, and scatters them to the
four winds, the enemy concentrates, fortifies, and awaits attack. Will
the man ever come to consolidate these innumerable detachments of the
National army, and then sweep through the Confederacy like a tornado?

It is said that many regiments in the Eastern army number less than one
hundred men, and yet have a full complement of field and company
officers. This is ridiculous; nay, it is an outrage upon the tax-payers
of the North. Worse still, so long as such a skeleton is called a
regiment, it is likely to bring discredit upon the State and Nation; for
how can it perform the work of a regiment when it has but one-tenth of a
regiment's strength? These regiments should be consolidated, and the
superfluous officers either sent home or put into the ranks.

20. This morning, at one o'clock, we were ordered to hold ourselves in
readiness to march at a moment's notice, with five days' rations. Court
has adjourned to meet at nine o'clock A. M. Monday. It is disposing of
cases quite rapidly, and I think next week, if there be no
interruptions, it will be able to clear the docket.

A brigade, which went out with a forage train yesterday, captured a
Confederate lieutenant at a private house. He was engaged at the moment
of his capture in writing a letter to his sweetheart. The letter was
headed Nashville, and he was evidently intent upon deceiving his
lady-love into the belief that he had penetrated the Yankee lines, and
was surrounded by foes. Had the letter reached her fair hands, what
earnest prayers would have gone up for the succor of this bold and
reckless youth.

There was a meeting of the generals yesterday, but for what purpose they
only know.

21. The dispatches from Indianapolis speak of the probable promotion of
Colonel Jones, Forty-second Indiana. This seems like a joke to those who
know him. He can not manage a regiment, and not even his best friends
have any confidence in his military capacity. In Indiana, however, they
promote every body to brigadierships. Sol Meredith, who went into the
service long after the war began, and who, in drilling his regiment,
would say: "Battalion, right or left face, as the case may be, march,"
was made a brigadier some time ago. Milroy, Crittenden, and many others
were promoted for inconsiderable services in engagements which have long
since been forgotten by the public. Their promotions were not made for
the benefit of the service, but for the political advancement of the men
who caused them to be made.

Last evening, a little after dark, we were startled by heavy cannonading
on our left, and thought the enemy was making an attack. The boys in our
division were all aglow with excitement, and cheered loudly; but after
ten or fifteen minutes the firing ceased, and I have heard no more about
it.

The rebels are before us in force. The old game of concentration is
probably being played. The repulse of our army at Fredericksburg will
embolden them. It will also enable them to spare troops to reinforce
Bragg. The Confederates are on the inside of the circle, while we are on
the outside, scattered far and wide. They can cut across and concentrate
rapidly, while we must move around. They can meet Burnside at
Fredericksburg, and then whip across the country and face us, thus
making a smaller army than ours outnumber us in every battle.

In the South the army makes public opinion, and moves along unaffected
by it. In the North the army has little or nothing to do with the
creation of public sentiment, and yet is its servant. The people of the
North, who were clamoring for action, are probably responsible for the
fatal repulse at Fredericksburg and the defeat at Bull run. The North
must be patient, and get to understand that the work before us is not
one that can be accomplished in a day or month. It should be pushed
deliberately, yet persistently. We should get rid of a vast number of
men who are forever in hospital. They are an expense to the country, and
an incumbrance to the army. We should consolidate regiments, and send
home thousands of unnecessary officers, who draw pay and yet make no
adequate return for it.

23. The court met this morning as usual. We are now going on the fifth
week of the session. New cases arise just about as fast as old ones are
disposed of.

The boys in front of my tent are singing:

          "We are going home, we are going home,
              To die no more."

Were they to devote as much time to praying as they do to singing, they
would soon establish a reputation for piety; but, unfortunately for
them, after the hymn they generally proceed to swear, instead of prayer,
and one is left in doubt as to what home they propose to go to.

25. About noon there were several discharges of artillery in our front,
and last night occasional shots served as cheerful reminders that the
enemy was near.

At an expense of one dollar and seventy-five cents, I procured a small
turkey and had a Christmas dinner; but it lacked the collaterals, and
was a failure.

For twenty months now I have been a sojourner in camps, a dweller in
tents, going hither and yon, at all hours of the day and night, in all
sorts of weather, sleeping for weeks at a stretch without shelter, and
yet I have been strong and healthy. How very thankful I should feel on
this Christmas night! There goes the boom of a cannon at the front.

26. This morning we started south on the Franklin road. When some ten
miles away from Nashville, we turned toward Murfreesboro, and are now
encamped in the woods, near the head-waters of the Little Harpeth. The
march was exceedingly unpleasant. Rain began to fall about the time of
starting, and continued to pour down heavily for four hours, wetting us
all thoroughly.

I have command of the brigade.

27. We moved at eight o'clock this morning, over a very bad dirt road,
from Wilson's pike to the Nolansville road, where we are now
bivouacking. About ten the artillery commenced thundering in our front,
and continued during the greater portion of the day. Marched two miles
toward Triune to support McCook, who was having a little bout with the
enemy; but the engagement ending, we returned to our present quarters in
a drenching rain. Saw General Thomas, our corps commander, going to and
returning from the front. We are sixteen miles from Nashville, on a road
running midway between Franklin and Murfreesboro. The enemy is supposed
to be in force at the latter place.

28. At four o'clock P. M. we were ordered to leave baggage and teams
behind, and march to Stewart's creek, a point twenty miles from
Nashville. Night had set in before the brigade got fairly under way. The
road runs through a barren, hilly, pine district, and was exceedingly
bad. At eleven o'clock at night we reached the place indicated, and lay
on the damp ground until morning.

29. At eight o'clock A. M. the artillery opened in our front; but after
perhaps two hours of irregular firing, it ceased altogether, and we were
led to the conclusion that but few rebels were in this vicinity, the
main body being at Murfreesboro, probably. Going to the front about ten
o'clock, I met General Hascall. He had had a little fight at Lavergne,
the Twenty-sixth Ohio losing twenty men, and his brigade thirty
altogether. He also had a skirmish at this place, in which he captured a
few prisoners. Saw General Thomas riding to the front. Rosecrans is
here, and most of the Army of the Cumberland either here or hereabouts.
McCook's corps had an inconsiderable engagement at Triune on Saturday.
Loss small on both sides.

Riding by a farm-house this afternoon, I caught a glimpse of Miss
Harris, of Lavergne, at the window, and stopped to talk with her a
minute. The young lady and her mother have experienced a great deal of
trouble recently. They were shelled out of Lavergne three times, two of
the shells passing through her mother's house. She claims to have been
shot at once by a soldier of the One Hundred and Nineteenth Illinois,
the ball splintering the window-sill near her head. Her mother's house
has been converted into a hospital, and the clothes of the family taken
for bandages. She is, therefore, more rebellious now than ever. She is
getting her rights, poor girl!

30. A little after daylight the brigade moved, and proceeded to within
three miles of Murfreesboro, where we have been awaiting orders since
ten o'clock A. M.

The first boom of artillery was heard at ten o'clock. Since then there
has been almost a continuous roar. McCook's corps is in advance of us,
perhaps a mile and a half, and, with divisions from other corps, has
been gradually approaching the enemy all day, driving his skirmishers
from one point to another.

About four o'clock in the afternoon the artillery firing became more
vigorous, and, with Colonel Foreman, of the Fifteenth Kentucky, I rode
to the front, and then along our advanced line from right to left. Our
artillery stationed on the higher points was being fired rapidly. The
skirmishers were advancing cautiously, and the contest between the two
lines was quite exciting. As I supposed, our army is feeling its way
into position. To-morrow, doubtless, the grand battle will be fought,
when I trust the good Lord will grant us a glorious victory, and one
that will make glad the hearts of all loyal people on New-Year's Day.

I saw Lieutenant-Colonel Given, Eighteenth Ohio. Twelve of his men had
been wounded. Met Colonel Wagner, Fifteenth Indiana. Starkweather's
brigade lost its wagon train this forenoon. Jeff C. Davis, I am told,
was wounded this evening. A shell exploded near a group, consisting of
General Rosecrans and staff, killing two horses and wounding two men.


STONE RIVER.

31. At six o'clock in the morning my brigade marches to the front and
forms in line of battle. The roar of musketry and artillery is
incessant. At nine o'clock we move into the cedar woods on the right to
support McCook, who is reported to be giving way. General Rousseau
points me to the place he desires me to defend, and enjoins me to "hold
it until hell freezes over," at the same time telling me that he may be
found immediately on the left of my brigade with Loomis' battery. I take
position. An open wood is in my front; but where the line is formed, and
to the right and left, the cedar thicket is so dense as to render it
impossible to see the length of a regiment. The enemy comes up directly,
and the fight begins. The roar of the guns to the right, left, and front
of my brigade sounds like the continuous pounding on a thousand anvils.
My men are favorably situated, being concealed by the cedars, while the
enemy, advancing through the open woods, is fully exposed. Early in the
action Colonel Foreman, of the Fifteenth Kentucky, is killed, and his
regiment retires in disorder. The Third Ohio, Eighty-eighth, and
Forty-second Indiana, hold the position, and deliver their fire so
effectively that the enemy is finally forced back. I find a Michigan
regiment and attach it to my command, and send a staff officer to
General Rousseau to report progress; but before he has time to return,
the enemy makes another and more furious assault upon my line. After a
fierce struggle, lasting from forty to sixty minutes, we succeed in
repelling this also. I send again to General Rousseau, and am soon after
informed that neither he nor Loomis' battery can be found. Troops are
reported to be falling back hastily, and in disorder, on my left. I send
a staff officer to the right, and ascertain that Scribner's and
Shepperd's brigades are gone. I conclude that the contingency has arisen
to which General Rousseau referred--that is to say, that hell has frozen
over--and about face my brigade and march to the rear, where the guns
appear to be hammering away with redoubled fury. In the edge of the
woods, and not far from the Murfreesboro pike, I find the new line of
battle, and take position. Five minutes after the enemy strike us. For a
time--I can not even guess how long--the line stands bravely to the
work; but the regiments on our left get into disorder, and finally
become panic-stricken. The fright spreads, and my brigade sweeps by me
to the open field in our rear. I hasten to the colors, stop them, and
endeavor to rally the men. The field is by this time covered with flying
troops, and the enemy's fire is most deadly. My brigade, however, begins
to steady itself on the colors, when my horse is shot under me, and I
fall heavily to the ground. Before I have time to recover my feet, my
troops, with thousands of others, sweep in disorder to the rear, and I
am left standing alone. Going back to the railroad, I find my men,
General Rousseau, Loomis, and, in fact, the larger part of the army. The
artillery has been concentrated at this point, and now opens upon the
advancing columns of the enemy with fearful effect, and continues its
thunders until nightfall. The artillery saved the army. The battle
during the whole day was terrific.

I find that soon after the fight began in the cedars, our division was
ordered back to a new line, and that the order had been delivered to
Scribner and Shepperd, but not to me. They had, consequently, retired to
the second position under fire, and had suffered most terribly in the
operation; while my brigade, being forgotten by the division commander,
or by the officer whose duty it was to convey the order, had held its
ground until it had twice repulsed the enemy, and then changed position
in comparative safety. A retrograde movement under fire must necessarily
be extremely hazardous. It demoralizes your own men, who can not, at the
moment, understand the purpose of the movement, while it encourages the
enemy. The one accepts it as an indication of defeat; the other as an
assurance of victory.

McCook had been surprised and shattered in the morning. This unexpected
success had inspired the rebels and dispirited us. They fought like
devils, and the victory--if victory there was to either army--belonged
to them.

When the sun went down, and the firing ceased, the Union army,
despondent, but not despairing, weary and hungry, but still hopeful, lay
on its arms, ready to renew the conflict on the morrow.



JANUARY, 1863.


1. At dawn we are all in line, expecting every moment the
re-commencement of the fearful struggle. Occasionally a battery engages
a battery opposite, and the skirmishers keep up a continual roar of
small arms; but until nearly night there is no heavy fighting. Both
armies want rest; both have suffered terribly. Here and there little
parties are engaged burying the dead, which lie thick around us. Now the
mangled remains of a poor boy of the Third is being deposited in a
shallow grave. A whole charge of canister seems to have gone through
him. Generals Rosecrans and Thomas are riding over the field, now
halting to speak words of encouragement to the troops, then going on to
inspect portions of the line. I have been supplied with a new horse, but
one far inferior to the dead stallion. A little before sun-down all hell
seems to break loose again, and for about an hour the thunder of the
artillery and volleys of musketry are deafening; but it is simply the
evening salutation of the combatants. The darkness deepens; the weather
is raw and disagreeable. Fifty thousand hungry men are stretched beside
their guns again on the field. Fortunately I have a piece of raw pork
and a few crackers in my pocket. No food ever tasted sweeter. The night
is gloomy enough; but our spirits are rising. We all glory in the
obstinacy with which Rosecrans has clung to his position. I draw closer
to the camp-fire, and, pushing the brands together, take out my little
Bible, and as I open it my eyes fall on the xci Psalm:

"I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress, my God; in Him
will I trust. Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler,
and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with His feathers,
and under His wings shall be thy trust. His truth shall be thy shield
and buckler. Thou shalt not be, afraid for the terror by night, nor for
the arrow that flieth by day; nor for the pestilence that walketh in
darkness, nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. A thousand
shall fall by thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall
not come nigh thee."

Camp-fires innumerable are glimmering in the darkness. Now and then a
few mounted men gallop by. Scattering shots are heard along the picket
line. The gloom has lifted, and I wrap myself in my blanket and lie down
contentedly for the night.

2. At sunrise we have a shower of solid shot and shell. The Chicago
Board of Trade battery is silenced. The shot roll up the Murfreesboro
pike like balls on a bowling alley. Many horses are killed. A soldier
near me, while walking deliberately to the rear, to seek a place of
greater safety, is struck between the shoulders by a ricochetting ball,
and instantly killed. We are ordered to be in readiness to repel an
attack, and form line of battle amid this fearful storm of iron.
Gaunther and Loomis get their batteries in position, and, after twenty
or thirty minutes' active work, silence the enemy and compel him to
withdraw. Then we have a lull until one or two o'clock, when Van Cleve's
division on the left is attacked. As the volume of musketry increases,
and the sound grows nearer, we understand that our troops are being
driven back, and brigade after brigade double quicks from the right and
center, across the open field, to render aid. Battery after battery goes
in the same direction on the run, the drivers lashing the horses to
their utmost speed. The thunder of the guns becomes more violent; the
volleys of musketry grow into one prolonged and unceasing roll. Now we
hear the yell which betokens encouraged hearts; but whose yell? Thank
God, it is ours! The conflict is working southward; the enemy has been
checked, repulsed, and is now in retreat. So ends another day.

The hungry soldiers cut steaks from the slain horses, and, with the
scanty supplies which have come forward, gather around the fires to
prepare supper, and talk over the incidents of the day. The prospect
seems brighter. We have held the ground, and in this last encounter have
whipped the enemy. There is more cheerful conversation among the men.
They discuss the battle, the officers, and each other, and give us now
and then a snatch of song. Officers come over from adjoining brigades,
hoping to find a little whisky, but learn, with apparent resignation
and well-feigned composure, that the canteens have been long empty; that
even the private flasks, which officers carry with the photographs of
their sweethearts, in a side pocket next to their hearts, are destitute
of even the flavor of this article of prime necessity. My much-esteemed
colleague of the court-martial, Colonel Hobart, stumbles up in the thick
darkness to pay his respects. The sentinel, mistaking him for a private,
tells him, with an oath, that this is neither the time nor place for
stragglers, and orders him back to his regiment; and so the night wears
on, and fifty thousand men lay upon their guns again.

3. Colonel Shanklin, with a strong detachment from my brigade, was
captured last night while on picket. Rifle pits are being dug, and I am
ordered to protect the workmen. The rebels hold a strip of woods in our
immediate front, and we get up a lively skirmish with them. Our men,
however, appear loth to advance far enough to afford the necessary
protection to the workers. Vexed at their unwillingness to venture out,
I ride forward and start over a line to which I desire the skirmishers
to advance, and discover, before I have gone twenty yards, that I have
done a foolish thing. A hundred muskets open on me from the woods; but
the eyes of my own brigade and of other troops are on me, and I can not
back out. I quicken the pace of my horse somewhat, and continue my
perilous course. The bullets whistle like bees about my head, but I ride
the whole length of the proposed skirmish line, and get back to the
brigade in safety. Colonel Humphrey, of the Eighty-eighth Indiana, comes
up to me, and with a tremor in his voice, which indicates much feeling,
says: "My God, Colonel, never do that again!" The caution is
unnecessary. I had already made up my mind never to do it again. We keep
up a vigorous skirmish with the enemy for hours, losing now and then a
man; but later in the day we are relieved from this duty, and retire to
a quieter place.

About nightfall General Rousseau desires me to get two regiments in
readiness, and, as soon as it becomes quite dark, charge upon and clean
out the woods in our front. I select the Third Ohio and Eighty-eighth
Indiana for this duty, and at the appointed time we form line in the
open field in front of Gaunther's battery, and as we start, the battery
commences to shell the woods. As we get nearer the objective point, I
put the men on the double quick. The rebels, discovering our approach,
open a heavy fire, but in the darkness shoot too high. The blaze of
their guns reveals their exact position to us. We reach the rude log
breastworks behind which they are standing and grapple with them.
Colonel Humphrey receives a severe thrust from a bayonet; others are
wounded, and some killed. It is pitch dark under the trees. Some of
Gaunther's shells fall short, and alarm the men. Unable to find either
staff officer or orderly, I ride back and request him to elevate his
guns. Returning, I find my troops blazing away with great energy; but,
so far as I can discover, their fire is not returned. It is difficult,
however, in the noise, confusion, and darkness, to direct their
movements, and impossible to stop the firing. In the meantime a new
danger threatens. Spear's Tennesseeans have been sent to support us,
probably without any definite instructions. They are, most of them, raw
troops, and, becoming either excited or alarmed at the terrible racket
in the woods, deliver scattering shots in our rear. I ride back and urge
them either to cease firing or move to the left, go forward and look
after our flank. One regiment does move as directed; but the others are
immovable, and it is with great difficulty that I succeed in making them
understand that in firing they are more likely to injure friends than
foes. Fortunately, soon after this, the ammunition of the Third and
Eighty-eighth becoming exhausted, the firing in the woods ceases, and,
as the enemy has already abandoned the field, the affair ends. I try to
find General Rousseau to report results, but can not; and so, worn out
with fatigue and excitement, lie down for another night.

4. Every thing quiet in our front. It is reported that the enemy has
disappeared. Investigation confirms the report, and the cavalry push
into Murfreesboro and beyond.

During the forenoon the army crosses Stone River, and with music,
banners, and rejoicings, takes possession of the old camps of the enemy.
So the long and doubtful struggle ends.

5. I ride over the battle-field. In one place a caisson and five horses
are lying, the latter killed in harness, and all fallen together.
Nationals and Confederates, young, middle-aged, and old, are scattered
over the woods and fields for miles. Poor Wright, of my old company, lay
at the barricade in the woods which we stormed on the night of the last
day. Many others lay about him. Further on we find men with their legs
shot off; one with brains scooped out with a cannon ball; another with
half a face gone; another with entrails protruding; young Winnegard, of
the Third, has one foot off and both legs pierced by grape at the
thighs; another boy lies with his hands clasped above his head,
indicating that his last words were a prayer. Many Confederate
sharpshooters lay behind stumps, rails, and logs, shot in the head. A
young boy, dressed in the Confederate uniform, lies with his face turned
to the sky, and looks as if he might be sleeping. Poor boy! what
thoughts of home, mother, death, and eternity, commingled in his brain
as the life-blood ebbed away! Many wounded horses are limping over the
field. One mule, I heard of, had a leg blown off on the first day's
battle; next morning it was on the spot where first wounded; at night it
was still standing there, not having moved an inch all day, patiently
suffering, it knew not why nor for what. How many poor men moaned
through the cold nights in the thick woods, where the first day's battle
occurred, calling in vain to man for help, and finally making their last
solemn petition to God!

In the evening I met Rousseau, McCook, and Crittenden. They had been
imbibing freely. Rousseau insisted upon my turning back and going with
them to his quarters. Crittenden was the merriest of the party. On the
way he sang, in a voice far from melodious, a pastorial ditty with which
childhood is familiar:

          "Mary had a little lamb,
             His fleece was white as snow,
           And every-where that Mary went
             The lamb was sure to go."

Evidently the lion had left the chieftain's heart, and the lamb had
entered and taken possession.

McCook complimented me by saying that my brigade fought well. He should
know, for he sat behind it at the commencement of the second assault of
the enemy in the cedars, on the first day; but very soon thereafter
disappeared. Just when he left, and why he did so, I do not know.

At Rousseau's we found a large number of staff and line officers. The
demijohn was introduced, and all paid their respects to it. The
ludicrous incidents, of which there are more or less even in battles, of
the last five days, were referred to, and much merriment prevailed.

6. The army is being reorganized, and we are busily engaged repairing
the damages sustained in the battle.

Visited the hospitals, and, so far as possible, looked after the wounded
of my brigade. To-morrow the chaplains will endeavor to hunt them all
up, and report their whereabouts and condition.

7. I was called upon late in the evening to make a report of the
operations of my brigade immediately, as General Rousseau intends to
leave for Louisville in the morning. It is impossible to collect the
information necessary in the short time allowed me. One of my regimental
commanders, Colonel Foreman, was killed; another, Colonel Humphrey, was
wounded, and is in hospital; another, Lieutenant-Colonel Shanklin, was
captured, and is absent; but I gathered up hastily what facts I could
obtain as to the casualties in the several regiments, and wrote my
report in the few minutes which remained for me to do so, and sent it
in. I have not had an opportunity to do justice either to my brigade or
myself.

13. Move in the direction of Columbia, on a reconnoitering expedition.
My brigade stops at Salem, and the cavalry pushes on.

14. Have been exposed to a drenching rain for thirty hours. The men are
cold, hungry, and mutinous.

15. Ordered back to Murfreesboro, and march thither in a storm of snow
and sleet. It is decidedly the coldest day we have experienced since
last winter.

I find two numbers of Harper's Weekly on my return. They abound in war
stories. The two heroes, of whom I read to-night, received saber cuts on
the face and head, obtained leave of absence, returned home, and married
forthwith. Saber cuts are very rare in the Army of the Cumberland, and
if young officers were compelled to defer entering into wedlock until
they got wounds of this kind, there would be precious few soldiers
married. Bullet wounds are common enough; but the hand-to-hand
encounters, knightly contests of swords, the cleaving of head-pieces and
shattering of spears, are not incidents of modern warfare.

The long rain has completely saturated the ground. The floor of my tent
is muddy; but my bed will be dry, and as I have not had my clothes off
for three days, I look forward to a comfortable night's rest.

The picture in Harper, of "Christmas Eve," will bring tears to the eyes
of many a poor fellow shivering over the camp-fire in this winter
season. The children in the crib, the stockings in which Santa Claus
deposits his treasures, recall the pleasantest night of the year.

Speaking of Christmas reminds me of the mistletoe bough. Mistletoe
abounds here. Old, leafless trees are covered and green with it. It was
in blossom a week or two ago, if we may call its white wax-like berries
blossoms. They are known as Christmas blossoms. The vine takes root in
the bark--in any crack, hole, or crevice of the tree--and continues
green all winter. The berries grow in clusters.

16. I have as guests Mr. and Mrs. Johnson House, my old neighbors. They
have come from their quiet home in Ohio to look over a battle-field, and
I take pleasure in showing them the points of interest. Mr. House, with
great frankness, tells me, in the presence of my staff, that he had been
afraid I was not qualified for the high position I hold, and that I was
getting along too fast; but he now feels satisfied that I am capable
and worthy, and would be well pleased to see me again promoted. I
introduced my friends to Lieutenant Van Pelt, of Loomis' battery, and
Mr. House asked: "Lieutenant, will these guns shoot with any kind of
decision?" "Precision," I suggested. "Yes," Van Pelt replied, "they will
throw a ball pretty close to the mark."

17. Dr. Peck tells me that the wounded of the Third are doing well, and
all comfortably quartered. He is an excellent physician and surgeon, and
the boys are well pleased with him.



FEBRUARY, 1863.


3. This has been the coldest day of the season in this latitude. The
ground is frozen hard. I made the round of the picket line after dinner,
and was thoroughly chilled. Visited the hospital this evening. Young
Willets, of the Third, whom I thought getting along well before I left
for home, died two days before my return. Benedict is dead, and Glenn,
poor fellow, will go next. His leg is in a sling, and he is compelled to
lie in one position all the time. Mortification has set in, and he can
not last more than a day or two. Murfreesboro is one great hospital,
filled with Nationals and Confederates.

4. At noon cannonading began on our left and front, and continued with
intervals until sunset. I have heard no explanation of the firing, but
think it probable our troops started up the Shelbyville road to
reconnoiter, discovered the enemy, and a small fight ensued.

5. It is said the enemy came within six miles of Murfreesboro yesterday,
and attacked a forage train.

The weather has been somewhat undecided, and far from agreeable.

6. A lot of rebel papers, dated January 31st, have been brought in.
They contain many extracts clipped from the Northern Democratic press,
and the Southern soul is jubilant over the fact that a large party in
Ohio and Indiana denounce President Lincoln. The rebels infer from this
that the war must end soon, and the independence of the Southern States
be acknowledged. Our friends at home should not give aid and comfort to
the enemy. They may excite hopes which, in time, they will themselves be
compelled to help crush.

7. Few of the men who started home when I did have returned. The General
is becoming excited on the subject of absentees. From General Thomas'
corps alone there are sixteen thousand men absent, sick, pretending to
be sick, or otherwise. Of my brigade there are sixteen hundred men
present for duty, and over thirteen hundred absent--nearly one-half
away. The condition of other brigades is similar. If a man once gets
away, either into hospital or on detached duty, it is almost impossible
to get him back again to his regiment. A false excuse, backed up by the
false statement of a family physician, has hitherto been accepted; but
hereafter, I am told, it will not be. Uncle Sam can not much longer
stand the drain upon his finances which these malingerers occasion, and
his reputation suffers also, for he can not do with fifty thousand men
what it requires one hundred thousand to accomplish.

People may say Rosecrans had at the battle of Murfreesboro nearly one
hundred regiments. A regiment should contain a thousand men; in a
hundred regiments, therefore, there should have been one hundred
thousand men. With this force he should have swallowed Bragg; but they
must understand that the largest of these regiments did not contain over
five hundred men fit for duty, and very many not over three hundred. The
men in hospital, the skulkers at home, and the skedaddlers here, count
only on the muster and pay-rolls; our friends at home should remember,
therefore, that when they take a soldier by the hand who should be with
his regiment, and say to him, "Poor fellow, you have seen hard times
enough, stay a little longer, the army will not miss you," that some
other poor fellow, too brave and manly to shirk, shivers through the
long winter hours at his own post, and then through other long hours at
the post of the absentee, thus doing double duty; and they should bear
in mind, also, that in battle this same poor fellow has to fight for
two, and that battles are lost, the war prolonged, and the National arms
often disgraced, by reason of the absence of the men whom they encourage
to remain at home a day or two longer. If every Northern soldier able to
do duty would do it, Rosecrans could sweep to Mobile in ninety days; but
with this skeleton of an army, we rest in doubt and idleness. There is a
screw loose somewhere.

10. Fortifications are being constructed. My men are working on them.

Just now I heard the whistle of a locomotive, on the opposite side of
the river. This is the first intimation we have had of the completion
of the road to this point. The bridge will be finished in a day or two,
and then the trains will arrive and depart from Murfreesboro regularly.

11. Called at Colonel Wilder's quarters, and while there met General J.
J. Reynolds. He made a brief allusion to the Stalnaker times. On my
return to camp, I stopped for a few minutes at Department head-quarters
to see Garfield. General Rosecrans came into the room; but, as I was
dressed in citizens' clothes, did not at first recognize me. Garfield
said: "General Rosecrans, Colonel Beatty." The General took me by the
hand, turned my face to the light, and said he did not have a fair view
of me before. "Well," he continued, "you are a general now, are you?" I
told him I was not sure yet, and he said: "Is it uncertainty or modesty
that makes you doubt?" "Uncertainty." "Well," he replied, "you and Sam
Beatty have both been recommended. I guess it will be all right." He
invited me to remain for supper, but I declined.

16. To-day I rode over the battle-field, starting at the river and
following the enemy's line off to their left, then crossing over on to
the right of our line, and following it to the left. For miles through
the woods evidences of the terrible conflict meet one at every step.
Trees peppered with bullet and buckshot, and now and then one cut down
by cannon ball; unexploded shell, solid shot, dead horses, broken
caissons, haversacks, old shoes, hats, fragments of muskets, and unused
cartridges, are to be seen every-where. In an open space in the oak
woods is a long strip of fresh earth, in which forty-one sticks are
standing, with intervals between them of perhaps a foot. Here forty-one
poor fellows lie under the fresh earth, with nothing but the forty-one
little sticks above to mark the spot. Just beyond this are twenty-five
sticks, to indicate the last resting-place of twenty-five brave men; and
so we found these graves in the woods, meadows, corn-fields,
cotton-fields, every-where. We stumbled on one grave in a solitary spot
in the thick cedars, where the sunshine never penetrates. At the head of
the little mound of fresh earth a round stick was standing, and on the
top of this was an old felt hat; the hat still doing duty over the head,
if not on the head, of the dead soldier who lay there. The rain and sun
and growing vegetation of one summer will render it impossible to find
these graves. The grass will cover the fresh earth, the sticks will
either rot or become displaced, and then there will be nothing to
indicate that--

          "Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
             Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
           Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
             Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre."

17. The army is turning its attention to politics somewhat. Generals and
colonels are ventilating their opinions through the press. I think their
letters may have good effect upon the people at home, and prevent them
from discouraging the army and crippling the Administration. Surely the
effort now being put forth by a great party in the North to convince
the troops in the field that this is an unjust war, an abolition or
nigger war, must have a tendency to injure the army, and, if persisted
in, may finally ruin it.

19. Work on the fortifications still continues. This is to be a depot of
supplies, and there are provisions enough already here to subsist the
army for a month. Now that the Cumberland is high, and the railroads in
running order, any amount of supplies may be brought through.

Expeditions go out occasionally to different parts of the country, and
slight affairs occur, which are magnified into serious engagements; but
really nothing of any importance has transpired since we obtained
possession of Murfreesboro. A day or two ago we had an account of an
expedition into the enemy's country by the One Hundred and Twenty-third
Illinois, Colonel Monroe commanding. According to this veracious report,
the Colonel had a severe fight, killed a large number of the enemy, and
captured three hundred stand of arms; but the truth is, that he did not
take time to count the rebel dead, and the arms taken were one hundred
old muskets found in a house by the roadside.

The expeditions sent out to capture John Morgan have all been failures.
His own knowledge of the country is thorough, and besides, he has in his
command men from every neighborhood, who know not only every road and
cow-path in the locality, but every man, woman, and child. The people
serve him also, by advising him of all our movements. They guide him to
our detachments when they are weak, and warn him away from them when
strong. Were the rebel army in Ohio, and as bitterly hated by the people
of that State as the Nationals are by those of Kentucky and Tennessee,
it would be an easy matter indeed to hang upon the skirts of that army,
pick up stragglers, burn bridges, attack wagon trains, and now and then
pounce down on an outlying picket and take it in.

20. Colonel Lytle, my old brigade commander, called on me to-day. He
informed me that he had not been assigned yet. I inferred from this that
he thought it utterly impossible for one so distinguished as himself to
come down to a regiment. His own regiment, the Tenth Ohio, is here, and
nominally a part of my brigade, although it has not acted with it since
Rosecrans assumed command of the Army of the Cumberland. Under
Lieutenant-Colonel Burke, it is doing guard duty at Department
head-quarters.



MARCH, 1863.


1. There is talk of consolidation at Washington. This is a sensible
idea, and should be carried into effect at once. There are too many
officers and too few men. The regiments should be consolidated, and kept
full by conscription, if it can not be done otherwise. The best officers
should be retained, and the others sent home to stand their chances of
the draft.

A major of the Fifteenth Kentucky sent in his resignation a few days
ago, assigning as a reason for so doing that the object of the war was
now the elevation of the negro. The concluding paragraph of his letter
was in these words: "The service can not possibly suffer by my
resignation." The document passed through my hands on its way to
Department head-quarters, and I indorsed it as follows:

"Major H. F. Kalfus, Fifteenth Kentucky Volunteer Infantry, being
'painfully and reluctantly convinced' that the party in power is
disposed to elevate the negro, desires to quit the service. I trust he
will be allowed to do so, and cheerfully certify to the correctness of
one statement which he makes herein, to-wit: The service can not
possibly suffer by his resignation."

General Rosecrans has just sent me an order to arrest the Major, and
send him under guard to the Provost-Marshal General. The arrest will be
made in a few minutes, and may create some excitement among our Kentucky
friends.

3. The fortifications are progressing. The men work four hours each day
in the trenches. The remainder of the time they spend pretty much as
they see fit.

General Garfield is now chief of staff. It is the first instance in the
West of an officer of his rank being assigned to that position. It is an
important place, however, and one too often held not merely by officers
of inferior rank, but of decidedly inferior ability. General Buell had a
colonel as chief of staff, and, until the appointment of Garfield,
General Rosecrans had a lieutenant-colonel or major.

To-night an ugly and most singular specimen of the negro called to
obtain employment. He was not over three feet and a half high,
hump-backed, crooked-legged, and quite forty years old. Poking his head
into my tent, and, taking off his hat, he said: "Is de Co'nel in?"
"Yes." "Hurd you wants a boy, sah. Man tole me Co'nel Eighty-eighth
Olehio wants a boy, sah." "What can you do? Can you cook?" "Yas, sah."
"Where did you learn to cook?" "On de plantation, sah." "What is your
master's name?" "Rucker, sah." "Is he a loyal man?" "No, sah, he not a
lawyer; his brudder, de cussen one, is de lawyer." "Is he secesh?" "O,
yas, sah; yas, he sesesh." "It is the Colonel of the Eighty-eighth
Indiana you should see;" and I directed him to the Colonel's tent. As he
turned to leave, he muttered, "Man tole me Eighty-eighth Olehio;" but he
went hobbling over to the Eighty-eighth, with fear, anxiety, and hope
struggling in his old face.

4. Major Kalfus, Fifteenth Kentucky, arrested on Sunday, and since held
in close confinement, was dishonorably dismissed from the service to-day
for using treasonable language in tendering his resignation. He was
escorted outside the lines and turned loose. The Major is a cross-roads
politician, and will, I doubt not, be a lion among his half-loyal
neighbors when he returns home.

5. Our picket on the Manchester pike was driven in to-day. The cavalry,
under General Stanley, went to the rescue, when a fight occurred. No
particulars.

9. T. Buchanan Reid, the poet, entertained us at the court-house this
evening. The room had been trimmed up by the rebels for a ball. The
words, "Shiloh," "Fort Donelson," "Hartsville," "Santa Rosa,"
"Pensacola," were surrounded with evergreens. The letter "B," painted on
the walls in a dozen places, was encompassed by wreaths of flowers, now
faded and yellow. My native modesty led me to conclude that the letter
so highly honored stood for Bragg, and not for the commander of the
Seventeenth Brigade, U. S. A.

General Garfield introduced Mr. Reid by a short speech, not delivered in
his usual happy style. I was impressed with the idea all the time, that
he had too many buttons on his coat--he certainly had a great many
buttons--and the splendor of the double row possibly detracted somewhat
from the splendor of his remarks.

Mr. Reid is a small man, and has not sufficient voice to make himself
heard distinctly in so large a hall. In a parlor his recitations would
be capital. He read from his own poem, "The Wagoner," a description of
the battle of Brandywine. It is possibly a very good representation of
that battle; but, if so, the battle of Brandywine was very unlike that
of Stone river. At Brandywine, it appears, the generals slashed around
among the enemy's infantry with drawn swords, doing most of the hard
fighting and most of the killing themselves. I did not discover anything
of that kind at Stone river. It is possible the style went out of
fashion before the rebellion began. It would, however, be very
satisfactory to the rank and file to see it restored. Mr. Reid said some
good things in his lecture, and was well applauded; but, in the main, he
was too ethereal, vapory, and fanciful for the most of us leather-heads.
When he puts a soldier-boy on the top of a high mountain to sing
patriotic songs, and bid defiance to King George because "Eagle is
King," we are impressed with the idea that that soldier could have been
put to better use; that, in fact, he is entirely out of the line of
duty. The position assigned him is unnatural, and the modern soldier-boy
will be apt to conclude that nobody but a simpleton would be likely to
wander about in solitary places, extemporizing in measured sentences;
besides it is hard work, as I know from experience. I tried my hand at
it the other day until my head ached, and this is the best I could do:

            O! Lord, when will this war end?
          These days of marchings, nights of lonely guard?
          This terrible expenditure of health and life?
          Where is the glory? Where is the reward,
          For sacrifice of comfort, quiet, peace?
          For sacrifice of children, wife, and friends?
          For sacrifice of firesides--genial homes?
          What hour, what gift, will ever make amends
          For broken health, for bruised flesh and bones,
          For lives cut short by bullet, blade, disease?
          Where balm to heal the widow's heart, or what
          Shall soothe a mother's grief for woes like these?
            Hold, murmurer, hold! Is country naught to thee?
          Is freedom nothing? Naught an honored name?
          What though the days be cold, or the nights dark,
          The brave heart kindles for itself a flame
          That warms and lightens up the world!
          Home! What's home, if in craven shame
          We seek its hearthstone? Bitterest of cold.
          Better creep thither bruised, and torn, and lame,
          Than seek it in health when justice needs our aid.
            Where is the glory? Where is the reward?
          Think of the generations that will come
          To praise and bless the hero. Think of God,
          Who in due time will call His soldiers home.
          How comfort mother for the loss of son?
          What balm to which her heaviest grief must yield?
          Ah! the plain, simple, ever-glorious words:
          "Your son died nobly on the battle-field!"
          What balm to soothe a widow's aching heart?
          The grand assurance that in the battle shock
          Foremost her husband stood, defying all,
          For freedom and truth, unyielding as the rock.
          Then, courage, all, and when the strife is past,
          And grief for lost ones takes a milder hue,
          This thought shall crown the living and the dead:
          "He lived, he died, to God and duty true."

10. Rain has been descending most of the day, and just now is pouring
down with great violence. A happy party in the adjoining tent are
exercising their lungs on a negro melody, of which this is something
like the chorus:

          "De massa run, ha, ha!
           De nigger stay, ho, ho!
           It mus' be now de kingdom comin',
           And de year of jubelo."

I can not affirm that the music with which these gentlemen so abound, on
this rainy and dismal night, has that soothing effect on the human heart
ascribed to music in general; but, however little I may feel like
rejoicing now, I am quite sure I shall feel happier when the concert
ends. The singers have concluded the negro melody, and are breathing out
their souls in a sentimental piece. Now and then, when more than
ordinarily successful in the higher strains, they nearly equal the most
exalted efforts of the tom-cat; and then, again, in the execution of the
lower notes and more pathetic passages, we are brought nigh unto tears
by an inimitable imitation of the wailings of a very young and sick
kitten.

          "Do they miss me at home; do they miss me?"

I venture to say they do, and with much gratification if, when there,
you favored them often with this infernal noise.

14. The weather is remarkably fine to-day. I saw Mrs. and Major-General
McCook and Mrs. and Major-General Wood going out to the battle-field, on
horseback, this morning. Mrs. General Rosecrans arrived last night on a
special train.

16. The roads are becoming good, and every body is on horseback. Many
officers have their wives here. On the way to Murfreesboro this morning,
I met two ladies with an escort going to the battle-field. Returning I
met General Rosecrans and wife. The General hallooed after me, "How d'ye
do?" to which I shouted back, at the top of my voice, the very original
reply, "Very well, thank you." From the number of ladies gathering in,
one might very reasonably conclude that no advance was contemplated
soon. Still all signs fail in war times, as they do in dry weather. As a
rule, perhaps, when a movement appears most improbable, we should be on
the lookout for orders to start.

The army, under Rosecrans' administration, looks better than it ever did
before. He certainly enters into his work with his whole soul, and
unless some unlucky mishap knocks his feet from under him, he will soon
be recognized as the first general of the Union. I account for his
success thus far, in part at least, by the fact that he has been long
enough away from West Point, mixing with the people, to get a little
common sense rubbed into him.

While writing the last word above, the string band of the Third struck
up at the door of my tent. Going out, I found all the commissioned
officers of that regiment standing in line. Adjutant Wilson nudged me,
and said they expected a speech. I asked if beer would not suit them
better. He thought not. I have not attempted to make a speech for two
years, and never made a successful attempt in my life; but I knocked the
ashes out of my pipe and began:

"GENTLEMEN: I am informed that all the officers of the Third are here. I
am certainly very glad to see you, and extremely sorry that I am not
better prepared to receive and entertain you. The press informs us that
I have been very highly honored. If the report that I have been promoted
is true, I am indebted to your gallantry, and that of the brave men of
the Third, for the honor. You gave me my first position, and then were
kind enough to deem me worthy of a second; and if now I have obtained a
third, and higher one, it is because I have had the good fortune to
command good soldiers. The step upward in rank will simply increase my
debt of gratitude to you."

The officers responded cordially, by assuring me that they rejoiced over
my promotion, and were anxious that I should continue in command of the
brigade to which the Third is attached.

Charlie Davison can sing as many songs as Mickey Free, of "Charles
O'Malley," and sing them well. In Irish melodies he is especially happy.
Hark!

          "Dear Erin, how sweetly thy green bosom rises,
             An emerald set in the ring of the sea;
           Each blade of thy meadows my faithful heart prizes,
             Thou Queen of the West, the world's cush la machree.

       *       *       *       *       *

          Thy sons they are brave; but the battle once over,
            In brotherly peace with their foes they agree,
          And the roseate cheeks of thy daughters discover,
            The soul-speaking blush that says cush la machree."

17. Dined with General Wagner, and, in company with Wagner and General
Palmer, witnessed an artillery review.

18. My brigade is still at work on the fortifications. They are,
however, nearly completed.

Shelter tents were issued to our division to-day. We are still using the
larger tent; but it is evidently the intention to leave these behind
when we move. Last fall the shelter tents were used for a time by the
Pioneer Brigade. They are so small that a man can not stand up in them.
The boys were then very bitter in condemnation of them, and called them
dog tents and dog pens. Almost every one of these tents was marked in a
way to indicate the unfavorable opinion which the boys entertained of
them, and in riding through the company quarters of the Pioneer
Brigade, the eye would fall on inscriptions of this sort:

          PUPS FOR SALE--RAT TERRIERS--BULL PUPS
          HERE--DOG-HOLE NO. 1--SONS OF BITCHES
          WITHIN--DOGS--PURPS.

General Rosecrans and staff, while riding by one day, were greeted with
a tremendous bow-wow. The boys were on their hands and knees, stretching
their heads out of the ends of the tents, barking furiously at the
passing cavalcade. The General laughed heartily, and promised them
better accommodations.

The news from Vicksburg is somewhat encouraging, but certainly very
indefinite, and far from satisfactory.

19. Reviews are the order of the hour. All the brigades of our division,
except mine, were reviewed by General Rosecrans this afternoon. It was a
fine display, but hard on the soldiers; they were kept so long standing.

At Middletown, sixteen miles away, the rebels are four thousand strong,
and within a day or two they have ventured to Salem, five miles distant.

20. Loomis, who has just returned from home, called this evening, and we
drank a bottle of wine over the promotion. He is in trouble about his
commission as colonel of artillery. Two months ago the Governor of
Michigan gave him the commission, and since that time he has been
wearing a colonel's uniform; but General Rosecrans has expressed doubts
about his right to assume the rank. Loomis is all right, doubtless, and
to-morrow, when the matter is talked over between the General and
himself, it will be settled satisfactorily.

21. I have been running over Russell's diary, "North and South," and
must say the Yankee Nation, when looked at through Mr. Russell's
spectacles, does not appear enveloped in that star-spangled glory and
super-celestial blue with which it is wont to loom up before patriotic
eyes on Fourth of July occasions. He has treated us, however, fully as
well as we have treated him. We became angry because he told unpleasant
truths about us, and he became enraged because we abused him for it. He
thanks God that he is not an American; and should not we, in a spirit of
conciliation, meet him half way, and feel thankful that he is not?

Flaming dispatches will appear in the Northern papers to-morrow
respecting the defeat of John Morgan, by a small brigade of our troops
under Colonel Hall. The report will say that forty of the enemy were
killed, one hundred and fifty wounded, and one hundred and twenty
captured; loss on our side inconsiderable. The reporters have probably
contributed largely to the brilliancy of this affair. It is always safe
to accept with distrust all reports which affirm that a few men, with
little loss, routed, slaughtered, or captured a large force.

Peach and cherry trees are in full bloom. The grass is beginning to
creep out. Summer birds occasionally sing around us. In a few weeks
more the trees will be in full leaf again.

23. General Negley, who went home some time ago, returned to-day, and, I
see, wears two stars.

General Brannan arrived a day or two ago. He was on the train captured
by guerrillas, but was rescued a few minutes after.

The boys have a rumor that Bragg is near, and has sent General Rosecrans
a very polite note requesting him to surrender Murfreesboro at once. If
the latter refuses to accept this most gentlemanly invitation to deliver
up all his forces, Bragg proposes to commence an assault upon our works
at twelve M., and show us no mercy. This, of course, is reliable.

At sunset rain began to fall, and has continued to pour down steadily
ever since. The night is gloomy. Adjutant Wilson, in the next tent, is
endeavoring to lift himself from the slough of despond by humming a
ditty of true love; but the effort is evidently a failure.

This morning I stood on the bank of the river and observed the
pontoniers as they threw their bridge of boats across the stream. Twice
each week they unload the pontoons from the wagons, run them into the
water, put the scantling from boat to boat, lay down the plank, and thus
make a good bridge on which men, horses, and wagons can cross. After
completing the bridge, they immediately begin to take it up, load the
lumber and pontoons on the wagons, and return to camp. They can bridge
any stream between this and the Tennessee in an hour, and can put a
bridge over that in probably three hours.

General Rosecrans makes a fine display in his visits about the camps. He
is accompanied by his staff and a large and well-equipped escort, with
outriders in front and rear. The National flag is borne at the head of
the column.

Rosecrans is of medium height and stout, not quite so tall as McCook,
and not nearly so heavy. McCook is young, and very fleshy. Rousseau is
by far the handsomest man in the army; tall and well-proportioned, but
possibly a little too bulky. R. S. Granger is a little man, with a
heavy, light sandy mustache. Wood is a small man, short and slim, with
dark complexion, and black whiskers. Crittenden, the major-general, is a
spare man, medium height, lank, common sort of face, well whiskered.
Major-General Stanley, the cavalryman, is of good size, gentlemanly in
bearing, light complexion, brown hair. McCook and Wood swear like
pirates, and affect the rough-and-ready style. Rousseau is given to
profanity somewhat, and blusters occasionally. Rosecrans indulges in an
oath now and then; but is a member of the Catholic Church in good
standing. Crittenden, I doubt not, swears like a trooper, and yet I have
never heard him do so. He is a good drinker; and the same can be said of
Rousseau. Rosecrans is an educated officer, who has rubbed much against
the world, and has experience. Rousseau is brave, but knows little of
military science. McCook is a chucklehead. Wood and Crittenden know how
to blow their own horns exceedingly well. Major-General Thomas is tall,
heavy, sedate; whiskers and head grayish. Puts on less style than any of
those named, and is a gentlemanly, modest, reliable soldier. Rosecrans
and McCook shave clean; Crittenden and Wood go the whole whisker; Thomas
shaves the upper lip. Rosecrans' nose is large, and curves down;
Rousseau's is large, and curves up; McCook has a weak nose, that would
do no credit to a baby. Rosecrans' laugh is not one of the free, open,
hearty kind; Rousseau has a good laugh, but shows poor teeth; McCook has
a grin, which excites the suspicion that he is either still very green
or deficient in the upper story.

22. Colonels Wilder and Funkhauser called. We had just disposed of a
bottle of wine, when Colonel Harker made his appearance, and we entered
forthwith upon another. Colonel Wilder expects to accomplish a great
work with his mounted infantry. He is endeavoring to arm them with the
Henry rifle, a gun which, with a slight twist of the wrist, will throw
sixteen bullets in almost that many seconds. I have no doubt he will
render his command very efficient and useful, for he has wonderful
energy and nerve, and is, besides, sensible and practical. Colonel
Harker is greatly disappointed because he was not confirmed as
brigadier-general during the last session of Congress. He is certainly
young enough to afford to wait; but he seems to fear that, after
commanding a brigade for nine months, he may have to go back to a
regiment. He feels, too, that, being a New Jersey man, commanding Ohio
troops, neither State will take an interest in him, and render him that
assistance which, under other circumstances, either of them might do.
These gentlemen dined with me. Harker and Wilder expressed a high
opinion of General Buell. Wilder says Gilbert is a d--d scoundrel, and
responsible for the loss at Mumfordsville. Harker, however, defended
Gilbert, and is the only man I have ever heard speak favorably of him.

The train coming from Nashville to-day was fired upon and four men
wounded. Yesterday there was a force of the enemy along the whole south
front of our picket line.

From the cook's tent, in the rear, comes a devotional refrain:

          "I'm gui-en home, I'm gui-en home,
             To d-i-e no mo'."

24. We are still pursuing the even tenor of our way on the
fortifications. There are no indications of an advance. The army,
however, is well equipped, in good spirits, and prepared to move at an
hour's notice. Its confidence in Rosecrans is boundless, and whatever it
may be required to do, it will, I doubt not, do with a will.

The conscript law, and that clause especially which provides for the
granting of a limited number of furloughs, gives great satisfaction to
the men. They not only feel that they will soon have help, but that if
their conduct be good, there will be a fair chance for them to see home
before the expiration of their term of enlistment. Hitherto they have
been something like prisoners without hope.

26. Another little misfortune has occurred to our arms at Brentwood. The
Twenty-second Wisconsin, numbering four hundred men, was captured by
General Forrest. The rebels succeed admirably in gathering up and
consolidating our scattered troops.

The Adjutant and others are having a concert in the next tent, and
certainly laugh more over their own performance than singers do
generally. They have just executed

          "The foin ould Irish gintleman,"

And are at this present writing shouting

          "Vive l' America, home of the free."

I think it more than probable that as their enthusiasm increases, the
punch in their punch-bowl diminishes.

27. A mule has just broken the stillness of the night by a most
discordant bray, and I am reminded that all horses are to be turned over
to the mounted infantry regiments, and mules used in the teams in their
stead. Mules are far better for the wagons than horses. They require
less food, are hardier, and stand up better under rough work and
irregular feeding.

I catch the faintest possible sound of a violin. Some indomitable spirit
is enlivening the night, and trenching upon the Sabbath, by giving loose
rein to his genius.

During the light baggage and rapid marches of the latter part of Buell's
administration, together with the mishaps at Perryville, the string band
of the Third was very considerably damaged; but the boys have recently
resuscitated and revived it to all the glory and usefulness of former
days. One of its sweetest singers, however, has either deserted or
retired to hospital or barracks, where the duties are less onerous and
life more safe. His greatest hit was a song known as "The Warble," in
which the following lines occurred:

          "Mein fadter, mein modter, mein sister, mein frau,
           Und zwi glass of beer for meinself.
           Dey called mein frau one blacksmit-schopt;
           Und such dings I never did see in my life."

When, at Shelbyville and Huntsville, this melody mingled with the
moonlight of summer evenings, people generally were deluded into the
supposition that an ethereal songster was on the wing, enrapturing them
with harmonies of other spheres. But sutlers, it is well known, are men
of little or no refinement, with ears for money rather than music. To
their unappreciative and perverted senses the warble seemed simply a
dolorous appeal for more whisky; and while delivering up their last
bottle to get rid of the warbler and his friends, in order that they
might get sleep themselves, they have been known to express the hope
that both song and singers might, without unnecessary delay, go to that
region which we are told is paved with good intentions.

The voice of a colored person in the rear breaks in upon my
recollections of the warbler. The most interesting and ugliest negro now
in camp, is known as Simon Bolivar Buckner. He is an animal that has
been worth in his day eighteen hundred dollars, an estray from the
estate of General S. B. Buckner. He manages, by blacking boots and
baking leather pies, to make money. He deluded me into buying a second
pie from him one day, by assuring me, "on honah, sah, dat de las pie was
better'n de fus', case he hab strawberries in him." True, the pie had
"strawberries in him," but not enough to pay one for chewing the
whit-leather crust.

30. Read Judge Holt's review of the proceedings and findings in the case
of Fitzjohn Porter. If the review presents the facts fairly, Porter
should have been not only dismissed, but hung. An officer who, with
thirteen thousand men, will remain idle when within sight of the dust
and in hearing of the shouts of the enemy and the noise of battle,
knowing that his friends are contending against superior numbers, and
having good reason to believe that they are likely to be overwhelmed,
deserves no mercy.

It is dull. I have hardly enough to do to keep me awake. The members of
the staff each have their separate duties to perform, which keep them
more or less engaged. The quartermaster issues clothing to the troops;
the commissary of subsistence issues food; the inspector looks into the
condition of each regiment as to clothing, arms, and camp equipage; the
adjutant makes out the detail for guard and other duties, and transmits
orders received from the division commander to the regiments. All of
these officers have certain reports to make also, which consumes much of
their time.



APRIL, 1863.


1. Adjutant Wilson received a letter to-day, written in a hand that
bespoke the writer to be feminine. He looked at the name, but could not
recollect having heard it before. The writer assured him, however, that
she was an old friend, and said many tender and complimentary things of
him. He tried to think; called the roll of his lady friends, but the
advantage, as people say, which the writer had of him was entirely too
great. If he had ever heard the name, he found it impossible now to
recall it. Finally, as he was going to fold the letter and put it away,
he noticed one line at the top, written upside down. On reading it the
mystery was solved: "If this reaches you on the first day of April, a
reply to it is not expected."

The colored gentlemen of the staff are in a great state of excitement.
One of the number has been illustrating the truth of that maxim which
affirms that a nigger will steal. The war of words is terrible. "Yer
d--d ole nigger thief," says one. "Hush! I'll break yer black jaw fer
yer," says another. They say very few harder things of each other than
"you dam nigger." One would think the pot in this instance would hardly
take to calling the kettle black, but it does. They use the word nigger
to express contempt, dislike, or defiance, as often and freely as the
whites. Finally, the parties to this controversy agree to leave the
matter to "de Co'nel." The accused was the first to thrust his head into
my tent, and ask permission to enter. "Dey is a gwine to tell yer as I
stole some money from ole Hason. I didn't done it, Co'nel; as sure as
I'm a livin' I didn't done it." "Yaas, yer did, you lyin' nigger!" broke
in old Hason. "Now, Co'nel, I want ter tell you the straight of it." I
listened patiently to the old man's statement and to the evidence
adduced, and as it was very clear that the accused was guilty, put him
under guard.

The first day of April has been very pleasant, cool but clear. The night
is beautiful; the moon is at its full almost, and its light falls mellow
and soft on the scene around me. The redoubt is near, with its guns
standing sentinel at each corner, the long line of earthworks stretches
off to the right and left; the river gleams and sparkles as it flows
between its rugged banks of stone; the shadowy flags rise and fall
lazily; the sentinels walk to and fro on their beats with silvered
bayonets, and the dull glare of the camp-fires, and the snow-white
tents, are seen every-where.

Somebody, possibly the Adjutant, whose thoughts may be still running on
the fair unknown, breaks forth:

          "O why did she flatter my boyish pride,
           She is going to leave me now;"

And then, with a vehemence which betokens desperation,

          "I'll hang my harp on a willow tree,
           And off to the wars again."

From which I infer it would be highly satisfactory to the young man to
be demolished at the enemy's earliest convenience.

A large amount of stores are accumulated here. Forty thousand boxes of
hard bread are stacked in one pile at the depot, and greater quantities
of flour, pork, vinegar, and molasses, than I have ever seen before.

3. An Indiana newspaper reached camp to-day containing an obituary
notice of a lieutenant of the Eighty-eighth Indiana. It gives quite a
lengthy biographical sketch of the deceased, and closes with a letter
which purports to have been written on the battle-field by one
Lieutenant John Thomas, in which Lieutenant Wildman, the subject of the
sketch, is said to have been shot near Murfreesboro, and that his last
words were: "Bury me where I have fallen, and do not allow my body to be
removed." The letter is exceedingly complimentary to the said lamented
young man, and affirms that "he was the hero of heroes, noted for his
reckless daring, and universally beloved." The singular feature about
this whole matter is that the letter was written by the lamented young
officer himself to his own uncle. The deceased justifies his action by
saying that he had expended two dollars for foolscap and one dollar for
postage stamps in writing to the d--d old fool, and never received a
reply, and he concluded finally he would write a letter which would
interest him. It appears by the paper referred to that the lieutenant
succeeded. The uncle and his family are in mourning for another martyr
gone--the hero of heroes and the universally beloved.

Lieutenant DuBarry, topographical engineer, has just been promenading
the line of tents in his nightshirt, with a club, in search of some
scoundrel, supposed to be the Adjutant, who has stuffed his bed with
stove-wood and stones. Wilson, on seeing the ghostly apparition
approach, breaks into song:

          "Meet me by moonlight alone,
           And there I will tell you a tale."

Lieutenant Orr, commissary of subsistence, coming up at this time,
remarks to DuBarry that he "is surprised to see him take it so coolly,"
whereupon the latter, notwithstanding the chilliness of the atmosphere,
and the extreme thinness of his dress, expresses himself with very
considerable warmth. Patterson, a clerk, and as likely to be the
offender as any one, now joins the party, and affirms, with great
earnestness, that "this practical joke business must end, or somebody
will get hurt."

4. Saw Major-General McCook, wife, and staff riding out this morning.
General Rosecrans was out this afternoon, but I did not see him. At this
hour the signal corps is communicating from the dome of the court-house
with the forces at Triune, sixteen miles away, and with the troops at
Readyville and other points. In daylight this is done by flags, at night
by torches.

5. There are many fine residences in Murfreesboro and vicinity; but the
trees and shrubbery, which contributed in a great degree to their beauty
and comfort, have been cut or trampled down and destroyed. Many frame
houses, and very good ones, too, have been torn down, and the lumber and
timber used in the construction of hospitals.

There is a fearful stench in many places near here, arising from
decaying horses and mules, which have not been properly buried, or
probably not buried at all. The camps, as a rule, are well policed and
kept clean; but the country for miles around is strewn with dead
animals, and the warm weather is beginning to tell on them.

6. It is said that the Third Regiment, with others, is to leave
to-morrow on an expedition which may keep it away for months. No
official notice of the matter has been given me, and I trust the report
may be unfounded. I should be sorry indeed to be separated from the
regiment. I have been with it now two years, and to lose it would be
like losing the greater number of my army friends and acquaintances.

7. The incident of the day, to me at least, is the departure of the
Third. It left on the two P. M. train for Nashville. I do not think I
have been properly treated. They should at least have consulted me
before detaching my old regiment. I am informed that Colonel Streight,
who is in command of the expedition, was permitted to select the
regiments, and the matter has been conducted so secretly that, before I
had an intimation of what was contemplated, it was too late to take any
steps to keep the Third. I never expect to be in command of it again. It
will get into another current, and drift into other brigades, divisions,
and army corps. The idea of being mounted was very agreeable to both
officers and men; but a little experience in that branch of the service
will probably lead them to regret the choice they have made. My best
wishes go with them.

All are looking with eager eyes toward Vicksburg. Its fall would send a
thrill of joy through the loyal heart of the country, especially if
accompanied by the capture of the Confederate troops now in possession.

8. Six months ago this night, parching with thirst and pinched with
hunger, we were lying on Chaplin Hills, thinking over the terrible
battle of the afternoon, expecting its renewal in the morning, listening
to the shots on the picket line, and notified by an occasional bullet
that the enemy was occupying the thick woods just in our front, and very
near. A little over three months ago we were in the hurry, confusion,
anxiety, and suspense of an undecided battle, surrounded by the dead and
dying, with the enemy's long line of camp-fires before us. Since then we
have had a quiet time, each succeeding day seeming the dullest.

Rode into town this afternoon; invested twenty-five cents in two red
apples; spoke to Captain Blair, of Reynolds' staff; exchanged nods with
W. D. B., of the Commercial; saw a saddle horse run away with its rider;
returned to camp; entertained Shanks, of the New York Herald, for ten
minutes; drank a glass of wine with Colonel Taylor, Fifteenth Kentucky,
and soon after dropped off to sleep.

A brass band is now playing, away over on the Lebanon pike. The
pontoniers are singing a psalm, with a view, doubtless, to making the
oaths with which they intend to close the night appear more forcible.
The signal lights are waving to and fro from the dome of the
court-house. The hungry mules of the Pioneer Corps are making the night
hideous with howls. So, and amid such scenes, the tedious hours pass by.

10. A soldier of the Fortieth Indiana, who, during the battle of Stone
river, abandoned his company and regiment, and remained away until the
fight ended, was shot this afternoon. Another will be shot on the 14th
instant for deserting last fall. A man in our division who was sentenced
to be shot, made his escape.

It seems these cases were not affected by the new law, and the
President's proclamation to deserters. Hitherto deserters have been
seldom punished, and, as a rule, never as severely as the law allowed.

My parchment arrived to-day, and I have written the necessary letter of
acceptance and taken the oath, and henceforth shall subscribe myself
yours, very respectfully, B. G., which, in my case, will probably stand
for big goose.

General Rosecrans halted a moment before my quarters this evening, shook
hands with me very cordially, and introduced me to his brother, the
Bishop, as a young general. The General asked why I had not called. I
replied that I knew he must be busy, and did not care to intrude.
"True," said he, "I am busy, but have always time to say how d'ye do."
He promised me another regiment to replace the Third, and said my boys
looked fat enough to kick up their heels. The General's popularity with
the army is immense. On review, the other day, he saw a sergeant who had
no haversack; calling the attention of the boys to it he said: "This
sergeant is without a haversack; he depends on you for food; don't give
him a bite; let him starve."

The General appears to be well pleased with his fortifications, and
asked me if I did not think it looked like remaining. I replied that the
works were strong, and a small force could hold them, and that I should
be well pleased if the enemy would attack us here, instead of compelling
us to go further south. "Yes," said he, "I wish they would."

General Lytle is to be assigned to Stanley Matthews' brigade. The latter
was recently elected judge, and will resign and return to Cincinnati.

The anti-Copperhead resolution business of the army must be pretty well
exhausted. All the resolutions and letters on this subject that may
appear hereafter may be accepted as bids for office. They have,
however, done a great deal of good, and I trust the public will not be
forced to swallow an overdose. I had a faint inclination, at one time,
to follow the example of my brother officers, and write a patriotic
letter, but concluded to reserve my fire, and have had reason to
congratulate myself since that I did so, for these letters have been as
plenty as blackberries, and many of them not half so good.

A Republican has not much need to write. His patriotism is taken for
granted. He is understood to be willing to go the whole nigger, and,
like the ogre of the story books, to whom the most delicious morsel was
an old woman, lick his chops and ask for more.

Wilder came in yesterday, with his mounted infantry, from a scout of
eight or ten days, bringing sixty or seventy prisoners and a large
number of horses.

11. A railway train was destroyed by the rebels near Lavergne yesterday.
One hundred officers fell into the hands of the enemy, and probably one
hundred thousand dollars in money, on the way to soldiers' families, was
taken. This feat was accomplished right under the nose of our troops.

To the uninitiated army life is very fascinating. The long marches,
nights of picket, and ordeal of battle are so festooned by the
imagination of the inexperienced with shoulder straps, glittering
blades, music, banners, and glory, as to be irresistible; but when we
sit down to the hard crackers and salt pork, with which the soldier is
wont to regale himself, we can not avoid recurring to the loaded tables
and delicious morsels of other days, and are likely at such times to
put hard crackers and glory on one side, the good things of home and
peace on the other and owing probably to the unsubstantial quality of
glory, and the adamantine quality of the crackers, arrive at conclusions
not at all favorable to army life.

A fellow claiming to have been sent here by the Governor of Maine to
write songs for the army, and who wrote songs for quite a number of
regiments, was arrested some days ago on the charge of being a spy. Last
night he attempted to get away from the guard, and was shot. Drawings of
our fortifications were found in his boots. He was quite well known
throughout the army, and for a long time unsuspected.

12. Called on General Rousseau. He referred to his trip to Washington,
and dwelt with great pleasure on the various efforts of the people along
the route to do him honor. At Lancaster, Pennsylvania, they stood in the
cold an hour and a half awaiting his appearance. Our division, he
informs me, is understood to possess the chivalric and dashing qualities
which the people admire. With all due respect, I suggested that dash was
a good thing, doubtless, but steady, obstinate, well-directed fighting
was better, and, in the end, would always succeed.

W. D. B., of the Commercial, Major McDowell, of Rousseau's staff, and
Lieutenant Porter, called this afternoon. My report of the operations of
my brigade at Stone river was referred to. Bickham thought it did not do
justice to my command, and I have no doubt it is a sorry affair,
compared with the elaborate reports of many others. The historian who
accepts these reports as reliable, and permits himself to be guided by
them through all the windings of a five-days' battle, with the
expectation of finally allotting to each one of forty brigades the
proper credit, will probably not be successful. My report was called for
late one evening, written hastily, without having before me the reports
of my regimental commanders, and is incomplete, unsatisfactory to me,
and unjust to my brigade.

13. General Thomas called for a moment this evening, to congratulate me
on my promotion.

The practical-joke business is occasionally resumed. Quartermaster Wells
was astonished to find that his stove would not draw, or, rather, that
the smoke, contrary to rule, insisted upon coming down instead of going
up. Examination led to the discovery that the pipe was stuffed with old
newspapers. Their removal heated the stove and his temper at the same
time, but produced a coolness elsewhere, which the practical joker
affected to think quite unaccountable.

14. Colonel Dodge, commanding the Second Brigade of Johnson's division,
called this afternoon. The Colonel is a very industrious talker, chewer,
spitter, and drinker. He has been under some tremendous hot firing, I
can tell you! Well, if he don't know what heavy firing is, and the
d--dest hottest work, too, then there is no use for men to talk! The
truth is, however much other men may try to conceal it, his command
stood its ground at Shiloh, and never gave back an inch. No, sir! Every
other brigade faltered or fell back, damned if they didn't; but he
drove the enemy, got 'em started, other brigades took courage and joined
in the chase. At Stone river he drove the enemy again. Bullets came
thicker'n hail; but his men stood up. He was with 'em. Damned hot, you
better believe! Well, if he must say it himself, he knew what hard
fighting was. Why, sir, one of his men has five bullets in him; dam' me
if he hasn't five! Says he, Dick says he, how did they hit you so many
times? The first time I fired, says Dick, I killed an officer; yes, sir,
killed him dead; saw him fall, dam me, if he didn't, sir; and at the
same time, says Dick, I got a ball in my leg; rose up to fire again, and
got one in my other leg, and one in my thigh, and fell; got on my knees
to fire the third time, says Dick, and received two more. Well, you see,
the firing was hotter'n hell, and Colonel Dodge knows what hot firing
is, sir!

15. Since the fight at Franklin, and the capture of the passenger train
at Lavergne, nothing of interest has occurred. There were only fifteen
or twenty officers on the captured train. A large amount of money,
however, fell into rebel hands. The postmaster of our division was on
the train, and the Confederates compelled him to accompany them ten
miles. He says they could have been traced very easily by the letters
which they opened and scattered along the road.

16. Morgan, with a considerable force, has taken possession of Lebanon,
and troops are on the way thither to rout him. The tunnel near Gallatin
has been blown up, and in consequence trains on the Nashville and
Louisville Railroad are not running.

17. Am member of a board whose duty it will be to inquire into the
competency, qualifications, and conduct of volunteer officers. The other
members are Colonels Scribner, Hambright, and Taylor. We called in a
body on General Rousseau, and found him reading "Les Miserables." He
apologized for his shabby appearance by saying that he had become
interested in a foolish novel. Colonel Scribner expressed great
admiration for the characters Jean Val Jean and Javort, when the General
confessed to a very decided anxiety to have Javort's neck twisted. This
is the feeling of the reader at first; but when he finds the old granite
man taking his own life as punishment for swerving once from what he
considered to be the line of duty, our admiration for him is scarcely
less than that we entertain for Jean Val Jean.

18. The Columbus (Ohio) Journal, of late date, under the head of
"Arrivals," says: "General John Beatty has just married one of Ohio's
loveliest daughters, and is stopping at the Neil House. Good for the
General." This is a slander. I trust the paper of the next day made
proper correction, and laid the charge, where it belongs, to wit: on
General Samuel. If General Sam continues to demean himself in this
youthful manner, I shall have to beg him to change his name. My
reputation can not stand many more such blows. What must those who know
I have a wife and children think, when they see it announced that I
have married again, and am stopping at the Neil with "one of Ohio's
loveliest daughters?" What a horrible reflection upon the character of a
constant and faithful husband! (This last sentence is written for my
wife.)

19. Colonel Taylor and I rode over to General Rousseau's this morning.
Returning, we were joined by Colonel Nicholas, Second Kentucky; Colonel
Hobart, Twenty-first Wisconsin, and Lieutenant-Colonel Bingham, First
Wisconsin, all of whom took dinner with me. We had a right pleasant
party, but rather boisterous, possibly, for the Sabbath day.

There is at this moment a lively discussion in progress in the cook's
tent, between two African gentlemen, in regard to military affairs. Old
Hason says: "Oh, hush, darkey!" Buckner replies: "Yer done no what'r
talkin' about, nigger." "I'll bet yer a thousand dollars." "Hush! yer
ain't got five cents." "Gor way, yer don't no nuffin'." And so the
debate continues; but, like many others, leads simply to confusion and
bitterness.

20. This evening an order came transferring my brigade to Negley's
division. It will be known hereafter as the Second Brigade, Second
Division, Fourteenth Army Corps.

28. Late last Monday night an officer from Stokes' battery reported to
me for duty. I told him I had received no orders, and knew of no reason
why he should report to me, and that in all probability General Samuel
Beatty, of Van Cleve's division, was the person to whom he should
report. I regarded the matter as simply one of the many blunders which
were occurring because there were two men of the same name and rank
commanding brigades in this army; and so, soon after the officer left, I
went to bed. Before I had gotten fairly to sleep, some one knocked again
at my tent-door. While rising to strike a light the person entered, and
said that he had been ordered to report to me. Supposing it to be the
officer of the battery persisting in his mistake, I replied as before,
and then turned over and went to sleep. I thought no more of the matter
until 11:30 A. M. next day, when an order came which should have been
delivered twenty-four hours before, requiring me to get my brigade in
readiness, and with one regiment of Colonel Harker's command and the
Chicago Board of Trade Battery, move toward Nashville at two o'clock
Tuesday morning. Then, of course, I knew why the two officers had
reported to me on the night previous, and saw that there had been an
inexcusable delay in the transmission of the order to me. Giving the
necessary directions to the regimental commanders, and sending notice to
Harker and the battery, I proceeded with all dispatch direct to
Department head-quarters, whence the order had issued, to explain the
delay. When I entered General Rosecrans shook hands with me cordially,
and seemed pleased to see me; but I had no sooner announced my business,
and informed him that the order had been delivered to me not ten minutes
before, than he flew into a violent passion, and asked if a battery and
regiment had not reported to me the night before. I replied yes, and
was proceeding to give my reasons for supposing that the officers
reporting them were in error, when he shouted: "Why, in hell and
damnation, did you not mount your horse and come to head-quarters to
inquire what it meant?" I undertook again to tell him I had received no
order, and as my brigade had been detailed to work on fortifications I
was expecting none; that I had taken it for granted that it was another
of the many mistakes occurring constantly because there were two
officers of the same name and rank in the army, and had so told the
parties reporting; but he would not listen to me. His face was inflamed
with anger, his rage uncontrollable, his language most ungentlemanly,
abusive, and insulting. Garfield and many officers, commissioned and
non-commissioned, and possibly not a few civilians, were present to
witness my humiliation. For an instant I was tempted to strike him; but
my better sense checked me. I turned on my heel and left the room. Death
would have had few terrors for me just then. I had never felt such
bitter mortification before, and it seemed to me that I was utterly and
irreparably disgraced. However, I had a duty to perform, and while in
the execution of that I would have time to think.

My brigade, one regiment of Colonel Harker's brigade, and the Chicago
Board of Trade Battery, were already on the road. We marched rapidly,
and that night (Tuesday) encamped in the woods north of Lavergne. Rain
fell most of the night; but the men had shelter tents, and I passed the
time comfortably in a wagon. The next morning at daylight we started
again, and a little after sunrise arrived at Scrougeville. Here my
orders directed me to halt and watch the movements of the enemy. The
rebel cavalry, in pretty strong force, had been in the vicinity during
the day and evening before; but on learning of our approach had galloped
away. We were exceedingly active, and scoured the country for miles
around, but did not succeed in getting sight of even one of these
dashing cavaliers.

The sky cleared, the weather became delightful, and the five days spent
in the neighborhood of Scrougeville were very agreeable. It was a
pleasant change from the dull routine of camp duty, and my men were in
exuberant spirits, excessively merry and gay. While there, a
good-looking non-commissioned officer of the battery came up to me, and,
extending his hand, said: "How do you do, General?" I shook him by the
hand, but could not for the life of me recollect that I had ever seen
him before. Seeing that I failed to recognize him, he said: "My name is
Concklin. I knew you at Sandusky, and used to know your wife well."
Still I could not remember him. "You knew General Patterson?" he asked.
"Yes." "Mary Patterson?" "Yes; I shall never forget her." "Do you
recollect a stroll down to the bay shore one moonlight night?" Of course
I remembered it. This was John Concklin, Mary's cousin. I remembered
very well how he devoted himself to one I felt considerable interest in,
while his cousin Mary and I talked in a jocular way about the cost of
housekeeping, both agreeing that it would require but a very small sum
to set up such an establishment as our modest ambition demanded. I was
heartily glad to meet the young man. He looks very different from the
smooth-faced boy of ten years ago. I was slightly jealous of him then,
and I do not know but I might have reason to be now, for he is a fine,
manly fellow.

At Scrougeville--how softly the name ripples on the ear!--we were
entertained magnificently. Above us was the azure canopy; around us a
dense forest of cedars, and in a shady nook, a sylvan retreat as it
were, a barrel of choice beer. The mocking-birds caroled from the
evergreen boughs. The plaintive melody of the dove came to us from over
the hills, and pies at a quarter each poured in upon us in profusion;
and such pies! When night threw over us her shadowy mantle, and the
crescent moon blessed us with her mellow light, the notes of the
whip-poor-will mingling with the bark of watch-dogs and the barbaric
melody of the Ethiopian, floated out on the genial air, and, as
stretched on the green sward, we smoked our pipes and drank our beer,
thoughts of fairy land possessed us, and we looked wonderingly around
and inquired, is Scrougeville a reality or a vision? I fear we shall
never see the like of Scrougeville again.

On the morning of the 26th instant I received a telegram ordering our
immediate return, and we reached Murfreesboro at two o'clock P. M. same
day.

I had not forgotten the terrible scolding received from the General just
before starting on this expedition; in fact, I am not likely ever to
forget it. It had now been a millstone on my heart for a week. I could
not stand it. What could I do? At first I thought I would send in my
resignation, but that I concluded would afford me no relief; on the
contrary, it would look as if I had been driven out of the army. My next
impulse was to ask to be relieved from duty in this department, and
assigned elsewhere; but on second thought this did not seem desirable.
It would appear as if I was running away from the displeasure of the
commanding general, and would affect me unfavorably wherever I might go.
I felt that if I was to blame at all in this matter, it was in a very
slight degree. The General's language was utterly inexcusable. He was a
man simply, and I concluded finally that I would not leave either the
army or the department under a cloud. I, therefore, sat down and wrote
the following letter:


                            "MURFREESBORO, _April 27, 1863_.
          "MAJOR-GENERAL W. S. ROSECRANS,
            "_Commanding Department of the Cumberland_:

          "SIR--Your attack upon me, on the morning of the
          21st instant, has been the subject of thought
          since. I have been absent on duty five days, and,
          therefore, have not referred to it before. It is
          the first time since I entered the army, two years
          ago, as it is the first time in my life, that it
          has been my misfortune to listen to abuse so
          violent and unreasonable as that with which you
          were pleased to favor me in the presence of the
          aids, orderlies, officers, and visitors, at your
          quarters. While I am unwilling to rest quietly
          under the disgrace and ridicule which attaches to
          the subject of such a tirade, I do not question
          your right to censure when there has been
          remissness in the discharge of duties; and to such
          reasonable admonition I am ever ready to yield
          respectful and earnest attention; but I know of no
          rule, principle, or precedent, which confers upon
          the General commanding this Department the right
          to address language to an officer which, if used
          by a private soldier to his company officer, or by
          a company officer to a private soldier, would be
          deemed disgraceful and lead to the punishment of
          the one or the dismissal of the other. Insisting,
          therefore, upon that right, which I conceive
          belongs to the private in the ranks, as well at to
          every subordinate officer in the army who has been
          aggrieved, I demand from you an apology for the
          insulting language addressed to me on the morning
          of the 21st instant.

                "I am, sir, respectfully,
                         "Your obedient servant,
                                  "JOHN BEATTY, Brig.-Gen'l."

I sent this. Would it be regarded as an act of presumption and treated
with ridicule and contempt? I feared it might, and sat thinking
anxiously over the matter until my orderly returned, with the envelope
marked "W. S. R.," the army mode of acknowledging receipt of letter or
order. Fifteen minutes later this reply came:


           "HEAD-QUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE CUMBERLAND,}
                       "MURFREESBORO, _April, 1863_.   }

          "MY DEAR GENERAL--I have just received the
          inclosed note, marked "Private," but addressed to
          me as commanding the Department of the Cumberland.
          It compromises you in so many ways that I return
          it to you. I am your friend, and regretted that
          the circumstances of the case compelled me, as a
          commanding officer, to express myself warmly about
          a matter which might have cost us dearly, to one
          for whom I felt so kindly. You will report to me
          in person, without delay.

                               W. S. ROSECRANS, Maj.-Gen'l.
          "BRIG.-GEN'L JOHN BEATTY, Fortifications, Stone
          river.

          "P. S.--It might be well to bring this inclosure
          with you."

The inclosure referred to was, of course, my letter to him. The answer
was not, by any means, an apology. On the contrary, it assumed that he
was justifiable in censuring me as he did, and yet it expressed good
feeling for me. It was probably written in haste, and without thought.
It was not satisfactory; but I was led by it to hope that I could reach
a point which would be.

I obeyed the order to report promptly. He took me into his private
office, where we talked over the whole affair together. He expressed
regret that he had not known all the circumstances before, and said, in
conclusion: "I am your friend. Some men I like to scold, for I don't
like them; but I have always entertained the best of feeling for you."
Taking me, at the close of our interview, from his private office into
the public room, where General Garfield and others were, he turned and
asked if it was all right--if I was satisfied. I expressed my thanks,
shook hands with him, and left, feeling a thousand times more attached
to him, and more respect for him than I had ever felt before. He had the
power to crush me, for at this time he is almost omnipotent in this
department, and by a simple word he might have driven me from the army,
disgraced in the estimation of both soldiers and citizens. His
magnanimity and kindness, however, lifted a great load from my spirits,
and made me feel like a new man; and I am very sure that he felt better
and happier also, for no man does a generous act to one below him in
rank or station, without being recompensed therefor by a feeling of the
liveliest satisfaction. I may have been too sensitive, and may not,
probably did not, realize fully the necessity for prompt action, and the
weight of responsibility which rested upon the General. There are times
when there is no time for explanation; great exigencies, in the presence
of which lives, fortunes, friendships, and all matters of lesser
importance must give way; moments when men's thoughts are so
concentrated on a single object, and their whole being so wrought up,
that they can see nothing, know nothing, but the calamity they desire to
avert, or the victory they desire to achieve. Nashville had been
threatened. To have lost it, or allowed it to be gutted by the enemy,
would have been a great misfortune to the army, and brought down upon
Rosecrans not only the anathemas of the War Department, but would have
gone far to lose him the confidence of the whole people. He supposed the
enemy's movements had been checked, and was startled and thrown off his
balance by discovering that they were still unopposed. The error was
attributable in part possibly to me, in part to a series of blunders,
which had resulted from the fact that there were two persons in the army
of the same name and rank, but mainly to those who failed to transmit
the order in proper time.

29. Our large tents have been taken away, and shelter tents substituted.
This evening, when the boys crawled into the latter, they gave
utterance, good-humoredly, to every variety of howl, bark, snap, whine,
and growl of which the dog is supposed to be capable.

Colonel George Humphreys, Eighty-eighth Indiana, whom I supposed to be a
full-blooded Hoosier, tells me he is a Scotchman, and was born in
Ayrshire, in the same house in which Robert Burns had birth. His
grandfather, James Humphreys, was the neighbor and companion of the
poet. It was of him he wrote this epitaph, at an ale-house, in the way
of pleasantry:

          "Below these stanes lie Jamie's banes.
             O! Death, in my opinion,
           You ne'er took sic a blither'n bitch
             Into thy dark dominion."

30. This afternoon called on General Thomas; met General R. S. Granger;
paid my respects to General Negley, and stopped for a moment at General
Rousseau's. The latter was about to take a horseback ride with his
daughter, to whom I was introduced.



MAY, 1863.


1. The One Hundred and Thirteenth Ohio is at Franklin. Colonel Wilcox
has resigned; Lieutenant-Colonel Mitchell will succeed to the colonelcy.
I rode over the battle-field with the latter this afternoon.

4. Two men from Breckenridge's command strayed into our lines to-day.

7. Colonels Hobart, Taylor, Nicholas, and Captain Nevin spent the
afternoon with me.

The intelligence from Hooker's army is contradictory and unintelligible.
We hope it was successful, and yet find little beside the headlines in
the telegraphic column to sustain that hope. The German regiments are
said to have behaved badly. This is, probably, an error. Germans, as a
rule, are reliable soldiers. This, I think, is Carl Schurz's first
battle; an unfortunate beginning for him.

9. The arrest of Vallandingham, we learn from the newspapers, is
creating a great deal of excitement in the North. I am pleased to see
the authorities commencing at the root and not among the branches.

I have just read Consul Anderson's appeal to the people of the United
States in favor of an extensive representation of American live stock,
machinery, and manufactures, at the coming fair in Hamburg. Friend James
made a long letter of it; and, I doubt not, drank a gallon of good Dutch
beer after each paragraph.

11. The Confederate papers say Streight's command was surrendered to
four hundred and fifty rebels. I do not believe it. The Third Ohio
would have whipped that many of the enemy on any field and under any
circumstances. The expedition was a foolish one. Colonel Harker, who
knows Streight well, predicted the fate which has overtaken him. He
is brave, but deficient in judgment. The statement that his command
surrendered to an inferior force is, doubtless, false. Forrest had,
I venture to say, nearer four thousand and fifty than four hundred
and fifty. The rebels always have a great many men before a battle,
but not many after. They profess still to believe in the
one-rebel-to-three-Yankee theory, and make their statements to
correspond. The facts when ascertained will, I have no doubt, show that
the Union brigade was pursued by an overwhelming force, and being
exhausted by constant riding, repeated fights, want of food and sleep,
surrendered after ammunition had given out and all possibility of escape
gone. The enemy is strong in cavalry, and it is not at all probable that
he would have sent but four hundred and fifty men to look after a
brigade, which had boldly ventured hundreds of miles inside his lines.
In fact, General Forrest seldom, if ever, travels with so small a
command as he is said to have had on this occasion.

13. An order has been issued prohibiting women from visiting the army. I
infer from this that a movement is contemplated.

14. General Negley called to-day, and remained for half an hour. He is a
large, rosy-cheeked, handsome, affable man, and a good disciplinarian.

I am going to have a horse-race in the morning with Major McDowell, of
Rousseau's staff. Stakes two bottles of wine.

When we entered Murfreesboro, nearly a year ago, the boys brought in a
lame horse, which they had picked up on the road. The horse hobbled
along with difficulty, and for a long time was used to carry the
knapsacks and guns of soldiers who were either too unwell or too lazy to
transport these burdens themselves. The horse had belonged to a Texas
cavalryman, and had been abandoned when so lame as to be unfit for
service. Finally, when his shattered hoof got well, he was transferred
from the hospital department to the quartermaster's, where he became a
favorite. The quartermaster called my attention to the horse, and I had
him appraised and took him for my own use. Under the skillful and
attentive hands of my hostler he soon shook off his shaggy coat of ugly
brown, and put on one of velvety black. After a few days of trial I
discovered not only that he was an easy goer, but had the speed of the
wind. When at his fastest pace he is liable to overreach; it was thus
that his left fore hoof had been shattered. To prevent a recurrence of
the accident, I keep his hoof protected by leathers. I believe he is the
fastest horse in the Army of the Cumberland.

15. Major McDowell did not put in an appearance until after I had
returned from my morning ride. He brought Colonel Loomis with him to
witness the grand affair; but as it was late, we finally concluded to
postpone the race until another morning.

Some one has been kind enough to lay on my table a handsome bunch of red
pinks and yellow roses.

My staff has been increased, the late addition being "U. S.," a large
and very lazy yellow dog. The two letters which give him his title are
branded on his shoulder. He sticks very close to me, for the reason,
possibly, that I do not kick him, and say "Get out," as most persons are
tempted to do when they look upon his most unprepossessing visage. He is
a solemn dog, and probably has had a rough row to hoe through life. At
times, when I speak an encouraging word, he brightens up, and makes an
effort to be playful; but cheerfulness is his forte no more than "fiten"
was A. Ward's, and he soon relapses into the deepest melancholy.

16. Read Emil Schalk's article on Hooker. It is an easy matter for that
gentleman to sit in his library, plan a campaign, and win a battle. I
could do that myself; but when we undertake to make the campaign, fight
the battle, and win the victory, we find it very much more difficult.
Book farmers are wonderfully successful on paper, and show how fortunes
may be gathered in a single season, but when they come down to
practical farming, they discover quite often that frost, or rain, or
drouth, plays the mischief with their theories, and renders them
bankrupt.

It can be demonstrated, doubtless, that a certain blow, delivered at a
certain place and time, against a certain force, will crush it; but does
it not require infinite skill and power to select the place and time
with certainty? A broken bridge, swollen stream, or even the most
trifling incident, which no man can foresee or overrule, may disarrange
and render futile the best-laid plans, and lead to defeat and disaster.
After a battle we can easily look back and see where mistakes have been
made; but it is more difficult, if not impossible, to look forward and
avoid them. War is a blind and uncertain game at best, and whoever plays
it successfully must not only hold good cards, but play them discreetly,
and under the most favorable circumstances.

17. Starkweather informs me that he has been urged to return to
Wisconsin and become a candidate for governor, and for fear he might
accede to the wishes of the people in this regard, the present governor
was urging his promotion. He is still undecided whether to accept a
brigadier's commission or the nomination for this high civil office.
Wind.

18. Two deserters came into our lines to-day. They were members of a
regiment in Cleburne's division, and left their command at Fosterville,
ten or fifteen miles out. They represent the Southern army in our front
as very strong, in good condition and fine spirits. The rebel successes
on the Rappahannock have inspired them with new life, and have, to some
extent, dispirited us. We do not, however, build largely on the Eastern
army. It is an excellent body of men, in good discipline, but for some
reason it has been unfortunate. When we hear, therefore, that the
Eastern army is going to fight, we make up our minds that it is going to
be defeated, and when the result is announced we feel sad enough, but
not disappointed.

19. Generals Rosecrans, Negley, and Garfield, with the staffs of the two
former, appeared on the field where I was drilling the brigade. General
Rosecrans greeted me very cordially. I am satisfied that those who allow
themselves to be damned once without remonstrance are very likely to be
damned always.

I am becoming quite an early riser; have seen the sun rise every morning
for two weeks. Saw the moon over my right shoulder. Lucky month ahead.
Am devoting a little more time than usual to my military books.

Colonel Moody, Seventy-fourth Ohio, has resigned.

20. This afternoon I received orders to be in readiness to move at a
moment's notice.

21. The days now give us a specimen of the four seasons. At sunrise it
is pretty fair winter for this latitude. An hour after, good spring; at
noon, midsummer; at sunset, fall. Flies are too numerous to mention even
by the million. They come on drill at 8 A. M., and continue their
evolutions until sun-down.

Wilson, Orr, and DuBarry are indisposed. My cast-iron constitution
holds good. As a rule, I take no medicine or medical advice. In a few
instances I have acceded to the wishes of my friends, and applied to the
doctors; but have been careful not to allow their prescriptions to get
further than my vest pocket.

The colt has just whinnied in response to another horse. He is in fine
condition; coat as sleek and glossy as that of a bridegroom. Yesterday I
rode him on drill, and the little scamp got into a quarrel with another
horse, reared up, and made a plunge that came near unseating me. He
agrees with Wilson's horse very well, but seems to think it his duty to
exercise a sort of paternal care over him; and so on all occasions when
possible he takes the reins of Wilson's bridle between his teeth and
holds it tightly, as if determined that the speed of the Adjutant's
horse should be regulated by his own. My black is also in excellent
condition, and certainly very fast. My race has not yet come off.

23. Received a box of catawba wine and pawpaw brandy from Colonel James
G. Jones, half of which I was requested to deliver to General Rosecrans,
and the other half keep to drink to the Colonel's health, which at
present is very poor.

Colonel Gus Wood called this afternoon. He is one of those who were
captured on the railroad train near Lavergne, 10th of last April, and
has returned to camp via Tullahoma, Chattanooga, and Richmond. He says
the rebel troops are in good condition and good spirits; thinks there is
an immense force in our front, and that it would not be advisable to
advance.

The enlisted men of the Third are at Annapolis, Maryland, and will soon
be at Camp Chase, Ohio. The officers are in Libby.

The box of cigars presented to me by my old friend, W. H. Marvin, still
holds out. Whenever I am in a great straight for a smoke I try one; but
I have not yet succeeded in finding a good one. I affect to be very
liberal, and pass the box around freely; but all who have tried the
cigars once insist that they do not smoke. They will probably last to
the end of the war.

26. The privates of the Eighty-eighth Indiana presented a
two-hundred-dollar sword to Colonel Humphreys, and the Colonel felt it
to be his duty to invest the price of the sword in beer for the boys.

Lieutenant Orr was kind enough to give me a field glass.

Hewitt's Kentucky battery has been assigned to me. Colonel Loomis has
assumed command of his battery again. His commission as colonel was
simply a complimentary one, conferred by the Governor of Michigan. He
should be recognized by the War Department as colonel. No man in the
army is better entitled to the position. His services at Perryville and
Stone river, to say nothing of those in West Virginia and North Alabama,
would be but poorly requited by promotion.

Hewitt's battery has not been fortunate in the past. It was captured at
this place last summer, when General T. T. Crittenden was taken, and
lost quite a number of men, horses, and one gun, in the battle of Stone
river.

28. At midnight orderlies went clattering around the camps with orders
for the troops to be supplied with five days' provisions, and in
readiness to march at a moment's notice. We expected to be sent away
this morning, but no orders have yet come to move.

Mrs. Colonel B. F. Scribner sent me a very handsome bouquet with her
compliments.

Mr. Furay accompanied Vallandingham outside the Federal lines, and
received from him a parting declaration, written in pencil and signed by
himself, wherein he claimed that he was a citizen of Ohio and of the
United States, brought there by force and against his will, and that he
delivered himself up as a prisoner of war.

30. Captain Gilbert E. Winters, A. C. S., took tea with me. He is as
jovial as the most successful man in the world, and overruns with small
jokes and stories, many of which he claims were told him by President
Lincoln. From this we might infer that the President has very little to
do but entertain and amuse gentlemen, who apply to him for appointments,
with conversation so coarse that it would be discreditable to a stable
boy.

31. Received a letter from daughter Nellie, a little school girl. She
"wishes the war was out." So do I.



JUNE, 1863.


1. By invitation, the mounted officers of our brigade accompanied
General Negley to witness the review of Rousseau's division. There were
quite a large number of spectators, including a few ladies. I was
introduced to General Wood for the first time, although I have known him
by sight, and known of him well, for months. Many officers of Wood's and
Negley's divisions were present. After the review, and while the troops
were leaving the field, Colonel Ducat, Inspector-General on General
Rosecrans' staff, and Colonel Harker, challenged me for a race. Soon
after, Major McDowell, of Rousseau's staff, joined the party; and, while
we were getting into position for the start, General Wagner, who has a
long-legged white horse, which, he insisted, could beat any thing on the
ground, took place in the line. McCook, Wood, Loomis, and many others,
stopped to witness the race. The horses were all pacers; it was, in
fact, a gathering of the best horses in the army, and each man felt
confident. I was absolutely sure my black would win, and the result
proved that I was correct.

The only time during the race that I was honored with the company of my
competitors, was at the starting; then, I observed, they were all up;
but a half a minute later the black took the lead. The old fellow had
evidently been on the track before, and felt as much interest in the
contest as his owner. He knew what was expected of him, and as he went
flying over the ground astonished me, as he did every body else. Loomis,
who professes to know much about horses, said to me before the race took
place, "Your's is a good-looking horse, but he can't beat McDowell's."
Before leaving the field, however, he admitted that he had been
mistaken. My horse was quicker of foot than he supposed.

2. Called on Colonel Scribner and wife, where I met also Colonel Griffin
and wife; had a long conversation about spiritualism, mesmerism,
clairvoyance, and subjects of that ilk. At night there was a fearful
thunder-storm. The rain descended in torrents, and the peals of thunder
were, I think, louder and more frequent than I ever heard before.

Met Loomis; he had accompanied General Rosecrans and others to witness
the trial of a machine, invented by Wilder, for tearing up railroad
tracks and injuring the rails in such a manner as to render them
worthless. Hitherto the rebels, when they have torn up our railroads,
have placed the bars crosswise on a pile of ties, set fire to the
latter, and so heated and bent the rails; but by heating them again they
could be easily straightened and made good. Wilder's instrument twists
them so they can not be used again.

The New York Herald, I observe, refers with great severity to General
Hascall's administration of affairs in Indiana; saying that "to place
such a brainless fool in a military command is not simply an error, it
is a crime." This is grossly unjust. Hascall is not only a gallant
soldier, but a man of education and excellent sense. He has been active,
and possibly severe, in his opposition to treasonable organizations and
notoriously disloyal men, whose influence was exerted to discourage
enlistments and retard the enforcement of the draft. Unfortunately, in
time of civil war, besides the great exigencies which arise to threaten
the commonwealth, innumerable lesser evils gather like flies about an
open wound, to annoy, irritate, and kill. Against these the law has made
no adequate provision. The military must, therefore, often interpose for
the public good, without waiting for legislative authority, or the slow
processes of the civil law, just as the fireman must proceed to batter
down the doors of a burning edifice, without stopping to obtain the
owner's permission to enter and subdue the flames.

3. Our division was reviewed to-day. The spectators were numerous,
numbering among other distinguished personages Generals Rosecrans,
Thomas, Crittenden, Rousseau, Sheridan, and Wood. The weather was
favorable, and the review a success. In the evening, a large party
gathered at Negley's quarters, where lunch and punch were provided in
abundance.

Generals Wood and Crittenden, of the Twenty-first Army Corps, claimed
that I did not beat Wagner fairly in the horse-race the other day. I
expressed a willingness to satisfy them that I could do so any day; and,
further, that my horse could out-go any thing in the Twenty-first Corps.
The upshot of the matter is that we have a race arranged for Friday
afternoon at four o'clock.

The party was a merry one; gentlemen imbibed freely. General Rosecrans'
face was as red as a beet; he had, however, been talking with ladies,
and being a diffident man, was possibly blushing. Wood persisted that
the Twenty-first Corps could not be beaten in a horse-race, and that
Wagner's long-legged white was the most wonderful pacer he ever saw.
Negley seemed possessed with the idea that every body was trying to
escape, and that it was necessary for him to seize them by the arm and
haul them back to the table; he seemed also to be laboring under the
delusion that his guests would not drink unless he kept his eye on them,
and forced them to do so. Lieutenant-Colonel Ducat, an Irishman of the
Charles O'Malley school, insisted upon introducing me to the ladies, but
fortunately I was sober enough to decline the invitation. Harker, late
in the evening, thought he discovered a disposition on the part of
others to play off on him; he felt in duty bound to empty a full
tumbler, while they shirked by taking only half of one, which he
affirmed was unfair and inexcusable. General Thomas, after sitting at
his wine an hour, conversing the while with a lady, arose from the table
evidently very much refreshed, and proceeded to make himself exceedingly
agreeable. I never knew the old gentleman to be so affable, cordial, and
complimentary before.

4. The guns have been reverberating in our front all day. I am told that
Sheridan's division advanced on the Shelbyville road. It is probable
that a part, if not the whole, of the firing is in his front.

5. Read the Autobiography of Peter Cartright. It is written in the
language of the frontier, and presents a rough, strong, uneducated man,
full of vanity, courage, and religious zeal. He never reached the full
measure of dignity requisite to a minister of the Gospel. There are many
amusing incidents in the volume, and many tales of adventures with
sinners, in the cabin, on the road, and at camp meeting, in all of which
Cartright gets the better of the sons of Belial, and triumphs in the
Lord.

8. The One Hundred and Fourth Illinois, Colonel Moore, reported to me
for duty, so that I have now four regiments and a battery. This Colonel
Moore is the same who was in command at Hartsville, and whose regiment
and brigade were captured by the ubiquitous John Morgan last winter. He
has but recently returned from the South, where, for a time, he was
confined in Libby prison.

The rebels are still prowling about our lines, but making no great
demonstrations of power.

9. Governor (?) Billy Williams;, of Indiana, dined with me to-day; he
resides in Warsaw, is a politician, a fair speaker, and an inveterate
story teller.

Wilson has been appointed Assistant Adjutant-General, with the rank of
captain.

13. Had brigade drill in a large clover field, just outside the picket
line. The men were in fine condition, well dressed, and well equipped. I
kept them on the jump for two hours. Generals Thomas and Negley were
present, and were well pleased. I doubt if any brigade in the army, can
execute a greater variety of movements than mine, or go through them in
better style. My voice is excellent, I can make myself heard distinctly
by a whole brigade, without becoming hoarse by hours of exertion.
Starkweather has the best voice in the army; he can be heard a mile
away.

Our division and brigade flags have been changed from light to dark
blue. They look almost like a black no-quarter flag.

We have one solitary rooster: he crows early in the morning, all day,
and through the night if it be moonlight. He mounted a stump near my
door this morning, stood between the tent and the sun, so that his
shadow fell on the canvas, and crowed for half an hour at the top of his
voice. I think the scamp knew I was lying abed longer than usual, and
was determined to make me get up. He is on the most intimate terms with
the soldiers, and struts about the camp with an air of as much
importance as if he wore shoulder-straps, and had been reared at West
Point. He enters the boys' tents, and inspects their quarters with all
the freedom and independence of a regularly detailed inspecting officer.
He is a fine type of the soldier, proud and vain, with a tremendous
opinion of his own fighting qualities.

16. Had a grand corps drill. The line of troops, when stretched out, was
over a mile in length. The Corps was like a clumsy giant, and hours were
required to execute the simplest movement. When, for instance, we
changed front, my brigade marched nearly, if not quite, a mile to take
position in the new line. The waving of banners, the flashing of sabers
and bayonets, the clattering to and fro of muddle-headed aids-de-camp on
impatient steeds, the heavy rumble of artillery wagons, the blue coats
of the soldiers, the golden trappings of the field and staff, made a
grand scene for the disinterested spectator to look upon; but with the
thermometer ranging from eighty-five to one hundred, it was hard work
for the soldier who bore knapsack, haversack, and gun, and calculated to
produce an unusual amount of perspiration, and not a little profanity.
Major-General Thomas guided the immense mass of men, while the
operations of the divisions were superintended by their respective
commanders. I fear the brigade and regimental commanders profited little
by the drill, but I hope the major-generals learned something. The
latter, in their devotion to strategy, have evidently neglected tactics,
and failed to unravel the mysteries of the school of the battalion.

In the morning, with my division commander, I called on General Thomas,
at his quarters, and had the honor to accept from his hands the most
abominable cigar it has ever been my misfortune to attempt to smoke.

19. The army has been lying here now nearly six months. It has of late
been kept pretty busy. Sunday morning inspections, monthly inspections
of troops, frequent inspections of arms and ammunition, innumerable
drills, and constant picketing.

Colonel Miller assumes command of a brigade in Johnson's division. Since
the troops were at Nashville he has been commanding what was known as
the Second Brigade of Negley's division; but the colonels of the brigade
objected to having an imported colonel placed over them, and so Miller
takes command of the brigade to which his regiment is attached. He is a
brave man and a good officer. Colonel Harker's brigade has been relieved
from duty at the fortifications, and is now encamped near us, on the
Liberty road.

21. Mrs. Colonel Scribner and Mrs. Colonel Griffin stopped at my
tent-door for a moment this morning. They were on horseback, and each
had a child on the saddle. They were giving Mrs. Scribner's children a
little ride.

Attended divine service in the camp of the Eighty-eighth Indiana, and
afterward called for a few minutes on Colonel Moore, of the One Hundred
and Fourth Illinois. On returning to my quarters I found Colonels Hobart
and Taylor awaiting me. They were about to visit Colonel T. P. Nicholas,
of the Second Kentucky Cavalry, and desired me to accompany them. We
dined with Colonel Nicholas, and, as is the custom, observed the
apostolic injunction of taking something for the stomach's sake. Toward
evening we visited the field hospital, and paid our respects to Surgeon
Finley and lady. Here, much against our wills, we were compelled to
empty a bottle of sherry. On the way to our own quarters Colonel Taylor
insisted upon our calling with him to see a friend, with whom we were
obliged to take a glass of ale. So that it was about dark when we three
sober gentlemen drew near to our respective quarters. We had become
immensely eloquent on the conduct of the war, and with great unanimity
concluded that if Grant were to take Vicksburg he would be entitled to
our profoundest admiration and respect. Hobart, as usual, spoke of his
State as if it were a separate and independent nation, whose sons, in
imitation of LaFayette, Kosciusko and DeKalb, were devoting their best
blood to the maintenance of free government in a foreign land; while
Taylor, incited thereto by this eulogy on Wisconsin, took up the cudgel
for Kentucky, and dwelt enthusiastically on the gallantry of her men and
the unrivaled beauty of her women.

When I dismounted and turned my horse over to the servant, I caught a
glimpse of the signal lights on the dome of the court-house, and was
astonished to find just double the usual number, in the act of
performing a Dutch waltz. I concluded that the Signal Corps must be
drunk. Saddened by the reflection that those occupying high places,
whose duty it was to let their light shine before men, should be found
in this condition of hopeless inebriety, I heaved a sigh which might
have been mistaken by the uncharitable for a hic-cough, and lay down to
rest.

23. My colt had a sore eye a day or two ago, but it is now getting well.
The boys pet him, and by pinching him have taught him to bite. I fear
they will spoil him. I have not ridden him much of late. He has a way of
walking on his hind legs, for which the saddles in use are not
calculated, and there is, consequently, a constant tendency, on the part
of the rider, to slip over his tail.

Captain Wells sent a colored teamster, who had just come in, tired and
hungry, to his quarters for dinner. Simon Bolivar Buckner, who now has
charge of the commissary and culinary branch of the Captain's
establishment, was in the act of dining when the teamster entered the
tent and seated himself at the table. Buckner, astonished at this
unceremonious intrusion, exclaimed: "What you doin' har, sah?" "De Capin
tole me fer to come and get my dinnah." "Hell," shouted Buckner, "does
de Capin 'spose I'm guiane to eat wid a d--n common nigger? Git out'er
har, till I'm done got through."

Buckner gets married every time we move camp. On last Sunday Captain
Wells found him dressed very elaborately, in white vest and clean linen,
and said to him: "What's in the wind, Buckner?" "Gwine to be married dis
ebening, sah." "What time?" "Five o'clock, sah." "Can't spare you,
Buckner. Expect friends here to dine at six, and want a good dinner
gotten up." "Berry well, sah; can pos'pone de wedin', sah. Dis'pintment
to lady, sah; but it'll be all right."

24. The note of preparation for a general advance sounded late last
night. Reynolds moved at 4 A. M.; Rousseau at 7; our division will leave
at 10. A long line of cavalry is at this moment going out on the
Manchester pike.

       *       *       *       *       *

Rain commenced falling soon after we left Murfreesboro, and continued
the remainder of the day. The roads were sloppy, and marching
disagreeable. Encamped at Big creek for the night; Rousseau and Reynolds
in advance.

Before leaving Murfreesboro I handed John what I supposed to be a
package of tea, and told him to fill my canteen with cold tea. On the
road I took two or three drinks, and thought it tasted strongly of
tobacco; but I accounted for it on the supposition that I had been
smoking too much, and that the tobacco taste was in my mouth, and not in
the tea. After getting into camp I drank of it again, when it occurred
to me that John had neglected to cleanse the canteen before putting the
tea in, and go I began to scold him. "I did clean it, sah," retorted
John. "Well, this tea," I replied, "tastes very much like tobacco
juice." "It is terbacker juice, sah." "Why, how is that?" "You gib me
paper terbacker, an' tole me hab some tea made, sah, and I done jes as
you tole me, sah." "Why you are a fool, John; did you suppose I wanted
you to make me tea out of tobacco?" "Don know, sah; dat's what you tole
me, sah; done jes as you tole me, sah."

25. Marched to Hoover's Gap. Heavy skirmishing in front during the day.
Reynolds lost fifteen killed, and quite a number wounded. A stubborn
fight was expected, and our division moved up to take part in it; but
the enemy fell back. Rain has been falling most of the day. A pain in my
side admonishes me that I should have worn heavier boots.

26. Moved to Beech Grove. Cannonading in front during the whole day; but
we have now become so accustomed to the noise of the guns that it hardly
excites remark. The sky is still cloudy, and I fear we shall have more
rain to-night. The boys are busy gathering leaves and twigs to keep them
from the damp ground. General Negley's quarters are a few rods to my
left, and General Thomas' just below us, at the bottom of the hill.
Reynolds is four miles in advance.

27. We left Beech Grove, or Jacob's Store, this morning, at five
o'clock, and conducted the wagon train of our division through to
Manchester. Rosecrans and Reynolds are here. The latter took possession
of the place two or three hours before my brigade reached it, and the
former came up three hours after we had gone into camp. We are now
twelve miles from Tullahoma. The guns are thundering off in the
direction of Wartrace. Hardee's corps was driven from Fairfield this
morning. My baggage has not come, and I am compelled to sleep on the
wet ground in a still wetter overcoat.

28. My baggage arrived during the night, and this morning I changed my
clothes and expected to spend the Sabbath quietly; but about 10 A. M. I
was ordered to proceed to Hillsboro, a place eight miles from
Manchester, on the old stage road to Chattanooga. When we were moving
out I met Durbin Ward, who asked me where I was going. I told him.
"Why," said he, "I thought, from the rose in your button-hole, that you
were going to a wedding." "No," I replied; "but I hope we are going to
nothing more serious."

29. My position is one of great danger, being so far from support and so
near the enemy. Last night my pickets on the Tullahoma road were driven
in, after a sharp fight, and my command was put in line of battle, and
so remained for an hour or more; but we were not again disturbed. No
fires were built, and the darkness was impenetrable.

At noon I received orders to proceed to Bobo's Cross-roads, and reach
that point before nightfall. There were two ways of going there: the one
via Manchester was comparatively safe, although considerably out of the
direct line; the other was direct, but somewhat unsafe, because it would
take me near the enemy's front. The distance by this shorter route was
eleven miles. I chose the latter. It led through a sparsely settled,
open oak country. Two regiments of Wheeler's cavalry had been hovering
about Hillsboro during the day, evidently watching our movements. After
proceeding about three miles, a dash was made upon my skirmish line,
which resulted in the killing of a lieutenant, the capture of one man,
and the wounding of several others. I instantly formed line of battle,
and pushed forward as rapidly as the nature of the ground would admit;
but the enemy fell back.

About five o'clock, as we drew near Bobo's, two cannon shots and quite a
brisk fire of musketry advised us that the rebels were either still in
possession of the Cross-roads or our friends were mistaking us for the
enemy. I formed line of battle, and ordered the few cavalrymen who
accompanied me to make a detour to the right and rear, and ascertain, if
possible, who were in our front. The videttes soon after reported the
enemy advancing, with a squadron of cavalry in the lead, and I put my
artillery in position to give them a raking fire when they should reach
a bend of the road. At this moment when life and death seemed to hang in
the balance, and when we supposed we were in the presence of a very
considerable, if not an overwhelming, force of the enemy, a half-grown
hog emerged from the woods, and ran across the road. Fifty men sprang
from the ranks and gave it chase, and before order was fully restored,
and the line readjusted, my cavalry returned with the information that
the troops in front were our own.

The incidents of the last six days would fill a volume; but I have been
on horseback so much, and otherwise so thoroughly engaged, that I have
been, and am now, too weary to note them down, even if I had the
conveniences at hand for so doing.



JULY, 1863.


1. My brigade, with a battalion of cavalry attached, started from Bobo's
Cross-roads in the direction of Winchester. When one mile out we picked
up three deserters, who reported that the rebels had evacuated
Tullahoma, and were in full retreat. Half a mile further along I
overtook the enemy's rear guard, when a sharp fight occurred between the
cavalry, resulting, I think, in very little injury to either party. The
enemy fell back a mile or more, when he opened on us with artillery, and
a sharp artillery fight took place, which lasted for perhaps thirty
minutes. Several men on both sides were killed and wounded. The enemy
finally retired, and taking a second position awaited our arrival, and
opened on us again. I pushed forward in the thick woods, and drove him
from point to point for seven miles. Negley followed with the other
brigades of the division, ready to support me in case the enemy proved
too strong, but I did not need assistance. The force opposed to us
simply desired to retard pursuit; and whenever we pushed against it
vigorously fell back.

2. This morning we discover that we bivouacked during the night within
half a mile of a large force of rebel cavalry and infantry. After
proceeding a little way, we found the enemy in position on the bluffs on
the opposite side of Elk river, with his artillery planted so as to
sweep the road leading to the bridge. Halting my infantry and cavalry
under the cover of the hill, I sent to the rear for an additional
battery, and, before the enemy seemed to be aware of what we were doing,
I got ten guns in position on the crest of the hill and commenced
firing. The enemy's cavalry and infantry, which up to this time had
lined the opposite hills, began to scatter in great confusion; but we
did not have it all our own way by any means. The rebels replied with
shot and shell very vigorously, and for half an hour the fight was very
interesting; at the end of that time, however, their batteries limbered
up and left on the double quick. In the meantime, I had sent a
detachment of infantry to occupy a stockade which the enemy had
constructed near the bridge, and from this position good work was done
by driving off his sharpshooters. We found the bridge partially burned,
and the river too much swollen for either the men or trains to ford it.
Rousseau and Brannan, I understand, succeeded in crossing at an upper
ford, and are in hot pursuit.

3. Repaired the bridge, and crossed the river this morning; and are now
bivouacking on the ground over which the cavalry fought yesterday
afternoon--quite a number of the dead were discovered in the woods and
fields. We picked up, at Elk river, an order of Brigadier-General
Wharton, commanding the troops which have been serving as the rear
guard of the enemy's column. It reads as follows:

          "COLONEL HAMAR: Retire the artillery when you
          think best. Hold the position as long as you can
          with your sharpshooters; when forced back, write
          to Crew to that effect. Anderson is on your right.
          Report all movements to me on this road.

                              "JNO. A. WHARTON, Brigadier-General.
          "July 2d, 1863."

I have been almost constantly in the saddle, and have hardly slept a
quiet three hours since we started on this expedition. My brigade has
picked up probably a hundred prisoners.

4. At twelve o'clock, noon, my brigade was ordered to take the advance,
and make the top of the Cumberland before nightfall; proceeding four
miles, we reached the base of the mountain, and began the ascent. The
road was exceedingly rough, and the rebels had made it impassable, for
artillery, by rolling great rocks into it and felling trees across it.
The axmen were ordered up, and while they were clearing away the
obstructions I rode ahead with the cavalry to the summit, and some four
miles on the ridge beyond. In the meantime, General Negley ordered the
artillery and infantry to return to the foot of the mountain, where we
are now encamped.

5. Since we left Murfreesboro (June 24) rain has been falling almost
constantly; to-day it has been coming down in torrents, and the low
grounds around us are overflowed.

Rousseau's division is encamped near us on the left, Reynolds in the
rear.

The other day, while sitting on the fence by the roadside smoking my
pipe, waiting for my troops to get in readiness to march, some one cried
out, "Here is a philosopher," and General Reynolds rode up and shook my
hand very cordially.

My brigade has been so fortunate, thus far, as to win the confidence of
the commanding generals. It has, during the last week, served as a sort
of a cow-catcher for Negley's division. At Elk river General Thomas rode
up, while I was making my dispositions to attack the enemy, and approved
what I had done and was doing.

We hear that the Army of the East has won a decisive victory in
Pennsylvania. This is grand! It will show the rebels that it will not do
to put their feet on free soil. Now if Grant succeeds in taking
Vicksburg, and Rosecrans drives Bragg beyond the Tennessee, the country
will have reason to rejoice with exceeding great joy.

6. An old lady, whose home is on the side of the mountain, called on me
to-day and said she had not had a cup of coffee since the war commenced.
She was evidently very poor; and, although we had no coffee to spare, I
gave her enough to remind her again of the taste.

Our soldiers have been making a clean sweep of the hogs, sheep, and
poultry on the route. For the rich rebels I have no sympathy, but the
poor we must pity. The war cuts off from them entirely the food which,
in the best of times, they acquire with great labor and difficulty. The
forage for the army horses and mules, and we have an immense number,
consists almost wholly of wheat in the sheaf--wheat that has been
selling for ten dollars per bushel in Confederate money. I have seen
hundreds of acres of wheat in the sheaf disappear in an hour. Rails have
been burned without stint, and numberless fields of growing corn left
unprotected. However much suffering this destruction of property may
entail on the people of this section, I am inclined to think the effect
will be good. It will bring them to a realizing sense of the loss
sustained when they threw aside the protecting shield of the old
Constitution, and the security which they enjoyed in the Union.

The season's crop of wheat, corn, oats, and hogs would have been of the
utmost value to the Confederate army; when destroyed, there will be
nothing in middle Tennessee to tempt it back.

7. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Tennesseeans have deserted from the
Southern army and are now wandering about in the mountains, endeavoring
to get to their homes. They are mostly conscripted men. My command has
gathered up hundreds, and the mountains and coves in this vicinity are
said to be full of them.

It rains incessantly. We moved to Decherd and encamped on a ridge, but
are now knee-deep in mud and surrounded by water.

This morning a hundred guns echoed among the mountain gorges over the
glad intelligence from the East and South: Meade has won a famous
victory, and Grant has taken Vicksburg.

Stragglers and deserters from Bragg's army continue to come in. It is
doubtless unfortunate for the country that rain and bad roads prevented
our following up Bragg closely and forcing him to fight in the present
demoralized condition of his army. We would have been certain of a
decisive victory.

9. Dined with General Negley. Colonels Stoughton and Surwell, brigade
commanders, were present. The dinner was excellent; soups, punch, wine,
blackberries were on the table; and, to men who for a fortnight had been
feeding on hard crackers and salt pork, seemed delicious. The General
got his face poisoned while riding through the woods on the 2d instant,
and he now looks like an old bruiser.

McCook, whose corps lies near Winchester, called while we were at
Negley's; he looks, if possible, more like a blockhead than ever, and it
is astonishing to me that he should be permitted to retain command of a
corps for a single hour. He brought us cheering information, however.
The intelligence received from the East and South a few days ago has
been confirmed, and the success of our armies even greater than first
reports led us to believe.

10. We have a cow at brigade head-quarters. Blackberries are very
abundant. The sky has cleared, but the Cumberland mountains are this
morning covered by a thin veil of mist. Supply trains arrived last
night.

11. We hear nothing of the rebel army. Rosecrans, doubtless, knows its
whereabouts, but his subordinates do not. A few of the enemy may be
lingering in the vicinity of Stevenson and Bridgeport, but the main body
is, doubtless, beyond the Tennessee. The rebel sympathizers here
acknowledge that Bragg has been outgeneraled. Our cavalry started on the
9th instant for Huntsville, Athens, and Decatur, and I have no doubt
these places were re-occupied without opposition.

The rebel cavalry is said to be utterly worn out, and for this reason
has performed a very insignificant part in recent operations.

The fall of Vicksburg, defeat of Lee, and retreat of Bragg, will,
doubtless, render the adoption of an entirely new plan necessary. How
long it will take to perfect this, and get ready for a concerted
movement, I have no idea.

12. Our soldiers, I am told, have been entering the houses of private
citizens, taking whatever they saw fit, and committing many outrages. I
trust, however, they have not been doing so badly as the people would
have us believe. The latter are all disposed to grumble; and if a hungry
soldier squints wistfully at a chicken, some one is ready to complain
that the fowls are in danger, and that they are the property of a lone
woman, a widow, with nothing under the sun to eat but chickens. In nine
cases out of ten the husbands of these lone women are in the Confederate
army; but still they are women, and should be treated well.

14. The brigade baker has come up, and will have his oven in operation
this afternoon; so we shall have fresh bread again.

General Rosecrans will allow no ladies to come to the front. This would
seem to be conclusive that no gentlemen will be permitted to go to the
rear.

16. We have blackberries and milk for breakfast, dinner, and supper.
To-night we had hot gingerbread also. I have eaten too much, and feel
uncomfortable.

Meade's victory has been growing small by degrees and beautifully less;
but the success of Grant has improved sufficiently on first reports to
make it all up. Our success in this department, although attended with
little loss of life, has been very gratifying. We have extended our
lines over the most productive region of Tennessee, and have possession
also of all North Alabama, a rich tract of country, the loss of which
must be sorely felt by the rebels.

18. To-night I received a bundle of Northern papers, and among others
the Union (?) Register. While reading it I felt almost glad that I was
not at home, for certainly I should be very uncomfortable if compelled
to listen every day to such treasonable attacks upon the Administration,
sugar-coated though they be with hypocritical professions of devotion to
the Union, the Constitution, and the soldier. How supremely wicked these
men are, who, for their own personal advantage, or for party success,
use every possible means to bring the Administration into disrespect,
and withhold from it what, at this time, it so greatly needs, the hearty
support and co-operation of the people. The simple fact that abuse of
the party in power encourages the rebels, not only by evincing
disaffection and division in the North, but by leading them to believe,
also, that their conduct is justifiable, should, of itself, be
sufficient to deter honest and patriotic men from using such language as
may be found in the opposition press. The blood of many thousand
soldiers will rest upon the peace party, and certainly the blood of many
misguided people at the North must be charged to the same account. The
draft riots of New York and elsewhere these croakers and libelers are
alone responsible for. After the war has ended there will be abundant
time to discuss the manner in which it has been conducted. Certainly
quarreling over it now can only tend to the defeat and disgrace of our
arms.

We hardly hear of politics in the army, and I certainly did not dream
before that there was so much bitterness of feeling among the people in
the North. Republicans, Democrats, and every body else think nearly
alike here. I know of none who sympathize with the so-called peace
party. It is universally damned, for there is no soldier so ignorant
that he does not know and feel that this party is prolonging the war by
stimulating his enemies. A child can see this. The rebel papers, which
every soldier occasionally obtains, prove it beyond a peradventure.

20. Mrs. General Negley, it appears, has been allowed to visit her
husband. Mrs. General McCook is said to be coming.

Received a public document, in which I find all the reports of the
battle of Stone river, and, I am sorry to say, my report is the poorest
and most unsatisfactory of the whole lot. The printer, as if for the
purpose of aggravating me beyond endurance, has, by an error of
punctuation, transformed what I considered a very considerable and
creditable action, into an inconsiderable skirmish. The report should
read:

          "On the second and third days my brigade was in
          front, a portion of the time skirmishing. On the
          night of January 3d, two regiments, led by myself,
          drove the enemy from their breastworks in the edge
          of the woods."

This appears in the volume as follows:

          "On the second and third days my brigade was in
          front a portion of the time. Skirmishing on the
          night of January 3d, two regiments, led my myself,
          drove the enemy from the breastworks in the edge
          of the woods."

Thus, by taking the last word of one sentence and making it the first
word of another, the intelligent compositor belittles a night fight for
which I thought my command deserved no inconsiderable credit. I regret
now that I did not take the time to make an elaborate report of the
operations of my brigade, describing all the terrible situations in
which it had been placed, and dwelling with special emphasis on the
courage and splendid fighting of the men. In contrast with my stupidly
modest report, is that of Brigadier-General Spears. He does not hesitate
to claim for his troops all the credit of the night engagement referred
to; and yet while my men stormed the barricade of logs, and cleaned out
the woods, his were lying on their faces fully two hundred yards in the
rear, and I should never have known that they were even that near the
enemy if his raw soldiers had not fired an occasional shot into us from
behind. If General Spears was with his men, he must have known that his
report of their action on that occasion was utterly untruthful. If,
however, as I apprehend, he was behind the rifle pits, six hundred yards
in the rear, he might, like thousands of others, who were distant
spectators of the scene, have honestly conceived that his troops were
doing the fighting. General Rousseau's report contradicts his
statements, and in a meager way accords the credit to my regiments.

Officers are more selfish, dishonest, and grasping in their struggle for
notoriety than the miser for gold. They lay claim to every thing within
reach, whether it belongs to them or not. I know absolutely that many of
the reports in the volume before me are base exaggerations--romances,
founded upon the smallest conceivable amount of fact. They are simply
elaborate essays, which seek to show that the author was a little
braver, a little more skillful in the management of his men, and a
little worthier than anybody else. I know of one officer who has great
credit, in official reports and in the newspapers, for a battle in which
he did not participate at all. In fact, he did not reach the field until
after the enemy had not only been repulsed, but retired out of sight;
and yet he has not the manliness to correct the error, and give the
honor to whom it is due.

21. The day has been a pleasant one. The night is delightful. The new
moon favors us with just sufficient light to reveal fully the great
oaks, the white tents, and the shadowy outline of the Cumberland
mountains. The pious few of the Eighty-eighth Indiana, assembled in a
booth constructed of branches, are breathing out their devotional
inspirations and aspirations, in an old hymn which carries us back to
the churches and homes of the civilized world, or, as the boys term it,
"God's country."

Katydids from a hundred trees are vigorous and relentless in their
accusations against poor Katy. That was a pleasant conceit of Holmes,
"What did poor Katy do?" I never appreciated it fully until I came into
the country of the katydids.

Two trains, laden with forage, commissary, and quartermaster stores, are
puffing away at the depot.

General Rosecrans will move to Winchester, two miles from us, to-morrow.

No one ever more desired to look again on his wife and babies than I;
but, alack and alas! I am bound with a chain which seems to tighten more
and more each day, and draw me further and further from where I desire
to be. But I trust the time will soon come when I shall be free again.

Morgan's command has come to grief in Ohio. I trust he may be captured
himself. The papers say Basil Duke is a prisoner. If so, the spirit of
the great raider is in our hands, and it matters but little, perhaps,
what becomes of the carcass.

A soldier of the Forty-second Indiana, who ran away from the battle of
Stone river, had his head shaved and was drummed out of camp to-day.
David Walker, Paul Long, and Charley Hiskett, of the Third Ohio, go with
him to Nashville, where he is to be confined in military prison until
the end of the war.

Shaving the head and drumming out of camp is a fearful punishment. I
could not help pitying the poor fellow, as with carpet-sack in one hand
and hat in the other he marched crest-fallen through the camps, to the
music of the "Rogue's March." Death and oblivion would have been less
severe and infinitely more desirable.

25. General Rosecrans, although generally supposed to be here, has been,
it is said, absent for some days. It is intimated that he has gone to
Washington. If it be true, he has flanked the newspaper men by a
wonderful burst of strategy. He must have gone through disguised as an
old woman--a very ugly old woman with a tremendous nose--otherwise these
newspaper pickets would have arrested and put him in the papers
forthwith. They are more vigilant than the rebels, and terribly intent
upon finding somebody to talk about, to laud to the skies, or abuse in
the most fearful manner, for they seldom do things by halves, unless it
be telling the truth. They have a marvelous distaste for facts, and use
no more of them than are absolutely necessary to string their guesses
and imaginings upon.

My colt has just whinnied. He is gay as a lark, and puts Davy, the
hostler, through many evolutions unknown to the cavalry service. The
other day Davy had him out for exercise, and when he came rearing and
charging back, I said: "How does he behave to-day, Davy?" "Mighty
rambunctious, sah; he's gettin' bad, sah."

Major James Connelly, One Hundred and Twenty-third Illinois, called. His
regiment is mounted and in Wilder's brigade. It participated in the
engagement at Hoover's Gap. When my brigade was at Hillsboro, Connelly's
regiment accompanied Wilder to this place (Decherd). The veracious
correspondent reported that Wilder, on that expedition, had destroyed
the bridge here and done great injury to the railroad, permanently
interrupting communication between Bridgeport and Tullahoma; but, in
fact, the bridge was not destroyed, and trains on the railroad were only
delayed two hours. The expedition succeeded, however, in picking up a
few stragglers and horses.

26. General Stanley has returned from Huntsville, bringing with him
about one thousand North Alabama negroes. This is a blow at the enemy in
the right place. Deprived of slave labor, the whites will be compelled
to send home, or leave at home, white men enough to cultivate the land
and keep their families from starving.

27. Adjutant Wilson visited Rousseau's division at Cowan, and reports
the return of Starkweather from Wisconsin, with the stars. This
gentleman has been mourning over the ingratitude of Republics ever since
the battle of Perryville; but henceforth he will, doubtless, feel
better.

A court-martial has been called for the trial of Colonel A. B. Moore,
One Hundred and Fourth Illinois. Some ill-feeling in his regiment has
led one of his officers to prefer charges against him.

28. General Thomas is an officer of the regular army; the field is his
home; the tent his house, and war his business. He regards rather
coolly, therefore, the applications of volunteer officers for leaves of
absence. Why should they not be as contented as himself? He does not
seem to consider that they suddenly dropped business, every thing, in
fact, to hasten to the field. But, then, on second thought, I incline to
the opinion that the old man is right. Half the army would be at home if
leaves and furloughs could be had for the asking.

29. Lieutenant Orr received notice yesterday of his appointment as
captain in the subsistence department, and last night opened a barrel of
beer and stood treat. I did not join the party until about ten o'clock,
and then Captain Hewitt, of the battery, the story-teller of the
brigade, was in full blast, and the applause was uproarious. He was
telling of a militia captain of Fentress county, Tennessee, who called
out his company upon the supposition that we were again at war with
Great Britain; that Washington had been captured by the invaders, and
the arch-iv-es destroyed. A bystander questioned the correctness of the
Captain's information, when he became very angry, and, producing a
newspaper, said: "D--n you, sir, do you think _I_ can't read, sir?" The
man thus interrogated looked over the paper, saw that it announced the
occupation of Washington by the British, but called the attention of the
excited militiaman to the fact that the date was 1812. "So it is," said
the old captain; "I did not notice the date. But, d--n me, sir, the
paper just come. Go on with the drill, boys." This story was told to
illustrate the fact that the people of many counties in Tennessee were
behind the times.

It would take too much time to refer, even briefly, to all the stories
related, and I will allude simply to a LONDON GHOST STORY, which Captain
Halpin, an Irishman, of the Fifteenth Kentucky, undertook to tell. The
gallant Captain was in the last stages of inebriety, and laid the scene
of his London ghost story in Ireland. Steadying himself in his seat with
both hands, and with a tongue rather too thick to articulate clearly, he
introduced us to his ancestors for twenty generations back. It was a
famous old Irish family, and among the collateral branches were the
O'Tooles, O'Rourkes, and O'Flahertys. They had in them the blood of the
Irish kings, and accomplished marvelous feats in the wars of those
times. And so we staggered with the Captain from Dublin to Belfast, and
thence made sorties into all the provinces on chase of the London ghost,
until finally our leader wound up with a yawn and went to sleep. The
party, disappointed at this sudden and unsatisfactory termination of the
London ghost story, took a mug of beer all around, and then one
gentleman, drunker probably than the others, or possibly unwilling,
after all the time spent, to allow the ghost to escape, punched the
Captain in the ribs and shouted: "Captain--Captain Halpin, you said it
was a London ghost story; maybe you'll find the ghost in London, for
I'll be d--d if it's in Ireland!" The Captain was too far gone to profit
by the suggestion.

30. This evening General Rosecrans, on his way to Winchester, stopped
for a few minutes at the station. He shook hands with me, and asked how
I liked the water at the foot of the mountains, and about the health of
my troops. I told him the water was good, and that the boys were
encamped on high ground and healthy. "Yes," he replied, "and we'll take
higher ground in a few days."

On the march to Tullahoma I had my brigade stretched along a ridge to
guard against an attack from the direction of Wartrace. General
Rosecrans passed through my lines, and was making some inquiries, when I
stepped out: "Hello," said he, "here is the young General himself.
You've got a good ridge. Who lives in that house? Find a place for
Negley on your right or left. Send me a map of this ridge. How do ye
do?"

31. Met General Turchin for the first time since he was before our
court-martial at Huntsville. He appeared to be considerably cast down in
spirit. He had just been relieved from his cavalry command, and was on
his way to General Reynolds to take command of a brigade of infantry.
General Crook, hitherto in command of a brigade, succeeds Turchin as
commander of a division. In short, Crook and Turchin just exchange
places. The former is a graduate of the West Point Military Academy, and
is an Ohio man, who has not, I think, greatly distinguished himself thus
far. He has been in Western Virginia most of the time, and came to
Murfreesboro after the battle of Stone river.

General R. B. Mitchell is, with his command, in camp a little over a
mile from us. He is in good spirits, and dwells with emphasis on the
length and arduousness of the marches made by his troops since he left
Murfreesboro. The labor devolving upon him as the commander of a
division of cavalry is tremendous; and yet I was rejoiced to find his
physical system had stood the strain well. The wear and tear upon his
intellect, however, must have been very great.



AUGUST, 1863.


2. Rode with Colonel Taylor to Cowan; dined with Colonel Hobart, and
spent the day very agreeably. Returning we called on Colonel Scribner,
remained an hour, and reached Decherd after nightfall. My request for
leave of absence was lying on the table approved and recommended by
Negley and Thomas, but indorsed not granted by Rosecrans.

General Rousseau has left, and probably will not return. The best of
feeling has not existed between him and the commanding general for some
time past. Rousseau has had a good division, but probably thought he
should have a corps. This, however, is not the cause of the breach. It
has grown out of small matters--things too trifling to talk over, think
of, or explain, and yet important enough to create a coldness, if not an
open rupture. Rosecrans is marvelously popular with the men.

3. The papers state that General R. B. Mitchell has gone home on sick
leave. Poor fellow! he must have been taken suddenly, for when I saw
him, a day or two ago, he was the picture of health. It is wonderful to
me how a fellow as fat as Bob can come the sick dodge so successfully.
He can get sick at a moment's notice.

4. Called on General Thomas; then rode over to Winchester. Saw Garfield
at department head-quarters. He said he regretted very much being
compelled to refuse my application for a leave. Told him I expected to
command this department soon, and when I got him and a few others,
including Rosecrans and Thomas, under my thumb, they would obtain no
favors. I should insist not only upon their remaining in camp, but upon
their wives remaining out.

In company with Colonel Mihalotzy I called on Colonel Burke, Tenth Ohio,
and drank a couple of bottles of wine with him and his spiritual
adviser, Father O'Higgin. Had a very agreeable time. The Colonel pressed
us to remain for dinner; but we pleaded an engagement, and afterward
obtained a very poor meal at the hotel for one dollar each.

The Board for the examination of applicants for commissions in colored
regiments, of which I have the honor to be Chairman, met, organized, and
adjourned to convene at nine o'clock to-morrow. Colonel Parkhurst, Ninth
Michigan, and Colonel Stanley, Eighteenth Ohio, are members.

I am anxious to go home; but it is not possible for me to get away.
Almost every officer in the army desires to go, and every conceivable
excuse and argument are urged. This man is sick; another's house has
burned, and he desires to provide for his family; another has lawsuits
coming off involving large sums, and his presence during the trial is
necessary to save him from great loss; still another has deeds to make
out, and an immense property interest to look after.

6. This is the day appointed by the President for thanksgiving and
prayer. The shops in Winchester are closed.

Colonel Parkhurst has obtained a leave, and will go home on Monday.

7. Captain Wilson and Lieutenant Ellsworth arose rather late this
morning, and found a beer barrel protruding from the door of their tent,
properly set up on benches, with a flaming placard over it:

              "NEW GROCERY!!
            WILSON & ELLSWORTH.
          Fresh Beer, 3c. a Glass.
              Give us a call."

Later in the day a grand presentation ceremony took place. All the
members of the staff and hangers-on about head-quarters were gathered
under the oaks; Lieutenant Calkins, One Hundred and Fourth Illinois, was
sent for, and, when he appeared, Lieutenant Ellsworth proceeded to read
to him the following letter:


                            "OTTOWA, ILLINOIS, _July_ 20, 1863.

          "LIEUTENANT W. W. CALKINS--_Sir_: Your old friends
          of Ottowa, as a slight testimonial of their
          respect for you, and admiration for those
          chivalrous instincts which, when the banner of
          beauty and glory was assailed by traitorous
          legions, induced you to spring unhesitatingly to
          its defense, have the honor to present you a
          beautiful field-glass. Trusting that, by its
          assistance, you will be able to see through your
          enemies, and ultimately find your way to the arms
          of your admiring fellow-citizens, we have the
          honor to subscribe ourselves,

                "Your most obedient servants,
                                PETER BROWN,
                                JOHN SMITH,
                                THOMAS JONES, and others."

The box containing the gift was carefully opened, and the necks and
upper parts of two whisky bottles, fastened together by a piece of wood,
taken out and delivered in due form to the Lieutenant. He seemed greatly
surprised, and for a few minutes addressed the donors in a very emphatic
and uncomplimentary way; but finding this only added to the merriment of
the party, he finally cooled down, and, lifting the field-glass to his
eyes, leveled it upon the staff, and remarked that they appeared to be
thirsty. This, of course, was hailed as undeniable evidence that the
glass was perfect, and Lieutenant Calkins was heartily congratulated on
his good luck, and on the proof which the testimonial afforded of the
high estimation in which he was held by the people of his native town.
Many of his brother officers, in their friendly ardor, shook him warmly
by the hand.

8. Hewitt's battery has been transferred to the Corps of Engineers and
Mechanics, and Bridges' battery, six guns, assigned to me. I gain two
guns and many men by the exchange.

Our Board grinds away eight or nine hours a day, and turns out about the
usual proportion of wheat and chaff. The time was when we thought it
would be impossible to obtain good officers for colored regiments. Now
we feel assured that they will have as good, if not better, officers
than the white regiments. From sergeants applying for commissions we are
able to select splendid men; strong, healthy, well informed, and of
considerable military experience. In fact, we occasionally find a
non-commissioned officer who is better qualified to command a regiment
than nine-tenths of the colonels. I certainly know colonels who could
not obtain a recommendation from this Board for a second lieutenancy.

Saw General Garfield yesterday; he was in bed sick. I have no fears of
his immediate dissolution; in fact, I think he could avail himself of a
twenty-day leave. I know if I were no worse than he appears to be, I
would, with the permission of the general commanding, undertake to ride
the whole distance home on horseback, and swim the rivers. In a little
over a week I think my wife would see me, and the black horse, followed
by the pepper-and-salt colt, charging up to the front door in such style
as would remind her of the days of chivalry and the knights of the olden
time. I should cry out in thunder tones, "Ho! within! Unbar the door!"
The colt would kick up his heels with joy at sight of the grass in the
yard, while the black would champ his bit with impatience to get into a
comfortable stall once more. Altogether the sight would be worth
seeing; but it will not be seen.

The Board holds its sessions in the office of an honorable Mr. Turney,
who left on our approach for a more congenial clime, and left suddenly.
His letters and papers are lying around us in great confusion and
profusion. Among these we have discovered a document bearing the
signatures of Jeff. Davis, John Mason, Pierre Soule, and others,
pledging themselves to resist, by any and every means, the admission of
California, unless it came in with certain boundaries which they
prescribed. The document was gotten up in Washington, and Colonel
Parkhurst says it is the original contract.

Dined with Colonel D. H. Gilmer, Thirty-eighth Illinois. Dinner
splendid; corn, cabbage, beans; peach, apple, and blackberry pie; with
buttermilk and sweetmilk. It was a grand dinner, served on a snow-white
table-cloth. Where the Colonel obtained all these delicacies I can not
imagine. He is an out-and-out Abolitionist, and possibly the negroes had
favored him somewhat.

Colonel Gilmer is delighted to find the country coming around to his
ideas. He believes the Lord, who superintends the affairs of nations,
will give us peace in good time, and _that time_ will be when the
institution of slavery has been rooted up and destroyed. He is a
Kentuckian by birth, and says he has kinfolks every-where. He is the
only man he knows of who can find a cousin in every town he goes to.

9. Dined with Colonel Taylor. Colonels Hobart, Nicholas, and Major
Craddock were present. After dinner we adjourned to my quarters, where
we spent the afternoon. Hobart dilated upon his adventures at New
Orleans and elsewhere, under Abou Ben Butler. He says Butler is a great
man, but a d--d scoundrel. I have heard Hobart say something like this
at least a thousand times, and am pleased to know that his testimony on
this point is always clear, decisive, and uncontradictory.

My visitors are gone. The cars are bunting against each other at the
depot. The katydids are piping away on the old, old story. The trees
look like great shadows, and unlike the substantial oaks they really
are. The camps are dark and quiet. This is all I can say of the night
without.

In a little booth made of cedar boughs is a table, on which sputters a
solitary tallow candle, in a stick not remarkable for polish. This light
illuminates the booth, and reveals to the observer--if there be one,
which is very unlikely, for those who usually observe have in all
probability retired--a wash basin, a newspaper, a penknife, which
originally had two blades, but at present has but one, and that one very
dull, a gentleman of say thirty, possibly thirty-five, two steel pens,
rusty with age, an inkstand, and one miller, which miller has repeatedly
dashed his head against the wick of the candle and discovered that the
operation led to unsatisfactory results. Wearied, disappointed, and
disheartened, the miller now sits quietly on the table, mourning,
doubtless, over the unpleasant lesson which experience has taught him.
His head is now wiser; but, alas! his wings are shorter than they were,
and of what use is his head without wings? He feels very like the man
who made a dash for fame, and fell wounded and bleeding on the field, or
the child who, for the first time, discovers that all is not gold that
glitters. The gentleman referred to--and I trust it may be no stretch of
the verities to call him a gentleman--leans over the table writing. He
has an abundant crop of dark hair on his head, under his chin, and on
his upper lip. He is not just now troubled with a superabundance of
flesh, or, in other words, no one would suspect him of being fat. On the
contrary, he might remind one of the lean kine, or the prodigal son who
had been feeding on husks. He is wide awake at this late hour of the
night, from which I conclude he has slept more or less during the day.
No one, to look at this gentleman, would take him to be a remarkable
man; in fact, his most intimate friends could not find it in their
hearts to bring such an accusation against him. His face is browned by
exposure, and his blue eyes look quite dark, or would do so if there
were sufficient light to see them. When he straightens up--and he
generally straightens when up at all--he is five feet eleven, or
thereabouts. His appetite is good, and his education is of that superior
kind which enables him, without apparent effort, to misspell
three-fourths of the words in the English language; in fact, at this
present moment he is holding an imaginary discussion with his wife, who
has written him that the underclothing for gentlemen's feet should be
spelled _s-o-c-k-s_, and not "s-o-x". He begs leave to differ with her,
which he would probably not dare to do were she not hundreds of miles
away; and he argues the matter in this way: S-o-x, o-x, f-o-x--the
termination sounds alike in all. Now how absurd it would be to insist
that ox should be spelled o-c-k-s, or fox f-o-c-k-s. The commonest kind
of sense teaches one that the old lady is in error, and "sox" clearly
correct. Much learning hath evidently made her mad. Having satisfied
himself about this matter, he takes a photograph from an inside pocket;
it is that of his wife. He makes another dive, and brings out one of his
children; then he lights a laurel-wood pipe, and, as the white smoke
curls about his head and vanishes, his thoughts skip off five hundred
miles or less, to a community of sensible, industrious, quiet folks, and
when he finally awakes from the reverie and looks about him upon the
beggarly surroundings--he does not swear, for he bethinks him in time
that swearing would do no good.

10. Colonel Hobart, Twenty-first Wisconsin, and Colonel Hays, Tenth
Kentucky, have been added to the Board--the former at my request.

11. To-day I dined with a Wisconsin friend of Colonel Hobart's; had a
good dinner, Scotch ale and champagne, and a very agreeable time.
Colonel Hegg, the dispenser of hospitalities, is a Norwegian by birth, a
Republican, a gentleman who has held important public positions in
Wisconsin, and who stands well with the people. In the course of the
table talk I learned something of the history of my friend Hobart. He
is an old wheel-horse of the Democratic party of his State; was a
candidate for governor a few years ago, and held joint debates with
Randall and Carl Schurz. He is the father of the Homestead Law, which
has been adopted by so many States, and was for many years the leader of
the House of Representatives of Wisconsin. All this I gathered from
Colonel Hegg, for Hobart seldom, if ever, talks about himself. I imagine
that even the most polished orator would obtain but little, if any,
advantage over Hobart in a discussion before the people. He has the
imagination, the information, and the oratorical fury in discussion
which are likely to captivate the masses. He was at one time opposed to
arming the negroes; but now that he is satisfied they will fight, he is
in favor of using them.

To-night Colonels Hays and Hobart held quite an interesting debate on
the policy of arming colored men, and emancipating those belonging to
rebels. Hays, who, by the way, is an honest man and a gallant soldier,
presented the Kentucky view of the matter, and his arguments, evidently
very weak, were thoroughly demolished by Hobart. I think Colonel Hays
felt, as the controversy progressed, that his position was untenable,
and that his hostility to the President's proclamation sprang from the
prejudice in which he had been educated, rather than from reason and
justice.

12. Old Tom, known in camp as the veracious nigger, because of a
"turkle" story which he tells, is just coming along as I wait a moment
for the breakfast bell. The "turkle," which Tom caught in some creek in
Alabama, had two hundred and fifty eggs in "him." "Yas, sah, two hunder
an' fifty."

Tom has peculiar notions about certain matters, and they are not, by any
means, complimentary to the white man. He says: "It jus' 'pears to me
dat Adam was a black man, sah, an' de Lord he scar him till he got
white, cos he was a sinner, sah."

"Tom, you scoundrel, how dare you slander the white man in that way?"

"'Pears to me dat way; hab to tell de truf, sah; dat's my min'. Men was
'riginally black; but de Lord he scare Adam till he got white; dat's de
reasonable supposition, sah. Do a man's har git black when he scared,
sah? No, sah, it gits white. Did you ebber know a man ter get black when
he's scard, sah? No, sah, he gits white."

"That does seem to be a knock-down argument, Tom."

"Yas, sah, I've argied with mor'n a hunder white men, sah, an' they
can't never git aroun dat pint. When yer strip dis subjec ob prejdice,
an' fetch to bar on it de light o' reason, sah, yer can 'rive at but one
'clusion, sah. De Lord he rode into de garden in chariot of fire, sah,
robed wid de lightnin', sah, thunder bolt in his han', an' he cried
ADAM, in de voice of a airthquake, sah, an' de 'fec on Adam was
powerful, sah. Dat's my min', sah." And so Tom goes on his way,
confident that the first man was black, and that another white man has
been vanquished in argument.

13. The weather continues oppressively hot. The names of candidates for
admission to the corps _d'Afrique_ continue to pour in. The number has
swelled to eight hundred. We begin our labors at nine, adjourn a few
minutes for lunch, and then continue our work until nearly six.

16. We move at ten o'clock A. M. Had a heavy rain yesterday and a
fearful wind. The morning, however, is clear, and atmosphere delightful.

Our Board has examined one hundred and twenty men. Perhaps forty have
been recommended for commissions.

The present movement will, doubtless, be a very interesting one. A few
days will take us to the Tennessee, and thereafter we shall operate on
new ground. Georgia will be within a few miles of us, the long-suffering
and long-coveted East Tennessee on our left, Central Alabama to our
front and right. A great struggle will undoubtedly soon take place, for
it is not possible that the rebels will give us a foothold south of the
Tennessee until compelled to do it.

21. We are encamped on the banks of Crow creek, three miles northerly
from Stevenson. The table on which I write is under the great beech
trees. Colonel Hobart is sitting near studying Casey. The light of the
new moon is entirely excluded by foliage. On the right and left the
valley is bounded by ranges of mountains eight hundred or a thousand
feet high. Crow creek is within a few feet of me; in fact, the sand
under my feet was deposited by its waters. The army extends along the
Tennessee, from opposite Chattanooga to Bellefonte. Before us, and just
beyond the river, rises a green-mountain wall, whose summit, apparently
as uniform as a garden hedge, seems to mingle with the clouds. Beyond
this are the legions of the enemy, whose signal lights we see nightly.

22. Our Board has resumed its sessions at the Alabama House, Stevenson.
The weather is intensely hot. Father Stanley stripped off his coat and
groaned. Hobart's face was red as the rising sun, and the anxious
candidates for commissions did not certainly resemble cucumbers for
coolness.

Hobart rides a very poor horse--poor in flesh, I mean; but he entertains
the most exalted opinion of the beast. This morning, as we rode from
camp, I thought I would please him by referring to his horse in a
complimentary way. Said I: "Colonel, your horse holds his own mighty
well." His face brightened, and I continued: "He hasn't lost a bone
since I have known him." This nettled him, and he began to badger me
about an unsuccessful attempt which I made some time ago to get him to
taste a green persimmon. Hobart has a good education, is fluent in
conversation, and in discussion gets the better of me without
difficulty. All I can do, therefore, is to watch my opportunity to give
him an occasional thrust as best I can. Father Stanley is slow,
destitute of either education or wit, and examines applicants like a
demagogue fishes for votes.

Brigadier-General Jeff. C. Davis and Colonel Hegg called to-day. Davis
is, I think, not quite so tall as I am, but a shade heavier. Met
Captain Gaunther. He has been relieved from duty here, and ordered to
Washington. He is an excellent officer, and deserves a higher position
than he holds at present. I thought, from the very affectionate manner
with which he clung to my hand and squeezed it, that possibly, in taking
leave of his friends, he had burdened himself with that "oat" which is
said to be one too many. Hobart says that Scribner calls him Hobart up
to two glasses, and further on in his cups ycleps him Hogan.

Wood had a bout with the enemy at Chattanooga yesterday; he on the north
side and they on the south side of the river. Johnson is said to have
reinforced Bragg, and the enemy is supposed to be strong in our front.
Rosecrans was at Bridgeport yesterday looking over the ground, when a
sharpshooter blazed away at him, and put a bullet in a tree near which
the General and his son were standing.

24. Deserters are coming in almost every day. They report that secret
societies exist in the rebel army whose object is the promotion of
desertion. Eleven men from one company arrived yesterday. Not many days
ago a Confederate officer swam the river and gave himself up. For some
time past the pickets of the two armies have not been firing at each
other; but yesterday the rebels gave notice that they should commence
again, as the "Yanks were becoming too d--n thick."

26. To-day we were examining a German who desired to be recommended for
a field officer. "How do you form an oblique square, sir?" "Black
square? Black square?" exclaimed the Dutchman; "I dush not know vot you
means by de black square."

As I write the moon shines down upon me through an opening in the
branches of the beech forest in which we are encamped, and the objects
about me, half seen and half hidden, in some way suggest the
half-remembered and half-forgotten incidents of childhood.

How often, when a boy, have I dreamed of scenes similar to those through
which I have passed in the last two years! Knightly warriors, great
armies on the march and in camp, the skirmish, the tumult and thunder of
battle, were then things of the imagination; but now they have become
familiar items of daily life. Then a single tap of the drum or note of
the bugle awakened thoughts of the old times of chivalry, and regrets
that the days of glory had passed away. Now we have martial strains
almost every hour, and are reminded only of the various duties of our
every-day life.

As we went to Stevenson this morning, Hobart caught a glimpse of a
colored man coming toward us. It suggested to him a hobby which he rides
now every day, and he commenced his oration by saying, in his
declamatory way: "The negro is the coming man." "Yes," I interrupted,
"so I see, and he appears to have his hat full of peaches;" and so the
coming man had.

28. Rode to the river with Hobart and Stanley. The rebel pickets were
lying about in plain view on the other side. Just before our arrival
quite a number of them had been bathing. The outposts of the two armies
appear still to be on friendly terms. "Yesterday," a soldier said to me,
"one of our boys crossed the river, talked with the rebs for some time,
and returned."

29. The band is playing "Yankee Doodle," and the boys break into an
occasional cheer by way of indorsement. There is something defiant in
the air of "Doodle" as he blows away on the soil of the cavaliers, which
strikes a noisy chord in the breast of Uncle Sam's nephews, and the
demonstrations which follow are equivalent to "Let 'er rip," "Go in old
boy."

Colonel Hobart's emphatic expression is "egad." He told me to-day of a
favorite horse at home, which would follow him from place to place as he
worked in the garden, keeping his nose as near to him as possible. His
wife remarked to him one day: "Egad, husband, if you loved me as well as
you do that horse, I should be perfectly happy."

"Are you quite sure Mrs. Hobart said 'egad,' Colonel?"

"Well, no, I wouldn't like to swear to that."

This afternoon Colonels Stanley, Hobart, and I rode down to the
Tennessee to look at the pontoon bridge which has been thrown across the
river. On the way we met Generals Rosecrans, McCook, Negley, and
Garfield. The former checked up, shook hands, and said: "How d'ye do?"
Garfield gave us a grip which suggested "vote right, vote early."
Negley smiled affably, and the cavalcade moved on. We crossed the
Tennessee on the bridge of boats, and rode a few miles into the country
beyond. Not a gun was fired as the bridge was being laid. Davis'
division is on the south side of the river.

The Tennessee at this place is beautiful. The bridge looks like a ribbon
stretched across it. The island below, the heavily-wooded banks, the
bluffs and mountain, present a scene which would delight the soul of the
artist. A hundred boys were frollicking in the water near the pontoons,
tumbling into the stream in all sorts of ways, kicking up their heels,
ducking and splashing each other, and having a glorious time generally.

30. (Sunday.) The brigade moved into Stevenson.

31. It crossed the Tennessee.

In one of the classes for examination to-day was a sergeant, fifty years
old at least, but still sprightly and active; not very well posted in
the infantry tactics now in use, but of more than ordinary intelligence.
The class had not impressed the Board favorably. This Sergeant we
thought rather too old, and the others entirely too ignorant. When the
class was told to retire, this old Sergeant, who, by the way, belongs to
a Michigan regiment, came up to me and asked: "Was John Beatty, of
Sandusky, a relative of yours?" "He was my grandfather." "Yes, you
resemble your mother. You are the son of James Beatty. I have carried
you in my arms many a time. My mother saved your life more than once.
Thirty years ago your father and mine were neighbors. I recollect the
cabin where you were born as well as if I had seen it but yesterday." "I
am heartily glad to see you, my old friend," said I, taking his hand.
"You must stay with me to-night, and we will talk over the old times
together."

When the Sergeant retired, Hobart, with a twinkle in his eye, said he
did not think much of that fellow; his early associations had evidently
been bad; he was entirely too old, anyway. What the army needed, above
all things, were young, vigorous, dashing officers; but he supposed,
notwithstanding all this, that we should have to do something for the
Sergeant. He had rendered important service to the country by carrying
the honored President of our Board in his arms, and but for the timely
doses of catnip tea, administered by the Sergeant's mother, the gallant
knight of the black horse and pepper-and-salt colt would have been
unknown. "What do you say, gentlemen, to a second lieutenancy for
General Beatty's friend?"

"I shall vote for it," replied Stanley.

"Recommend him for a first lieutenancy," I suggested; and they did.

In the evening I had a long and very pleasant conversation with the
Sergeant. He had fought under Bradley in the Patriot war at Point au
Pelee; served five years in the regular army during the Florida war,
and two years in the Mexican war. His name is Daniel Rodabaugh. He has
been in the United States service as a soldier for nine years, and
richly deserves the position for which we recommended him.



SEPTEMBER, 1863.


1. Closed up the business of the Board, and at seven o'clock in the
evening (Tuesday) left Stevenson to rejoin the brigade. On the way to
the river I passed Colonel Stanley's brigade of our division. The air
was thick with dust. It was quite dark when I crossed the bridge. The
brigade had started on the march hours before, but I thought best to
push on and overtake it. After getting on the wrong road and riding
considerably out of my way, I finally found the right one, and about ten
o'clock overtook the rear of the column. The two armies will face each
other before the end of the week. General Lytle's brigade is bivouacking
near me. I have a bad cold, but otherwise am in good health.

3. We moved from Moore's Spring, on the Tennessee, in the morning, and
after laboring all day advanced less than one mile and a quarter. We
were ascending Sand mountain; many of our wagons did not reach the
summit.

4. With two regiments I descended into Lookout valley and bivouacked at
Brown's Springs about dark. Our transportation, owing to the darkness
and extreme badness of the roads, remained on the top of the mountain.
I have no blankets, and nothing to eat except one ear of corn which one
of the colored boys roasted for me. Wrapped in my overcoat, about nine
o'clock, I lay down on the ground to sleep; but a terrible toothache
took hold of me, and I was compelled to get up and find such relief as I
could in walking up and down the road. The moon shone brightly, and many
camp-fires glimmered in the valley and along the side of the mountain.
It was three o'clock in the morning before gentle sleep made me
oblivious to aching teeth and head, and all the other aches which had
possession of me.

5. A few deserters come in to us, but they bring little information of
the enemy. We are now in Georgia, twenty miles from Chattanooga by the
direct road, which, like all roads here, is very crooked, and difficult
to travel. The enemy is, doubtless, in force very near, but he makes no
demonstrations and retires his pickets without firing a gun. The
developments of the next week or two will be matters for the historian.

Sheridan's division is just coming into the valley; what other troops
are to cross the mountain by this road I do not know. As I write, heavy
guns are heard off in the direction of Chattanooga. The roads are
extremely dusty. This morning I consigned to the flames all letters
which have come to me during the last two months.

I have just returned from a ride up the valley to the site of the
proposed iron works of Georgia. Work on the railroad, on the mountain
roads, and on the furnaces, was suspended on our approach. The negroes
and white laborers were run off to get them beyond our reach. The hills
in the vicinity of the proposed works are undoubtedly full of iron; the
ore crops out so plainly that it is visible to all passers. Here the
Confederacy proposed to supply its railroads with iron rail, an article
at present very nearly exhausted in the South. Had the Georgians
possessed common business sense and common energy, extensive furnaces
would have been in operation in this valley years ago; and now, instead
of a few poorly cultivated corn-fields, with here and there a cabin, the
valley and hillsides would be overflowing with population and wealth.

We returned from the site of the iron works by way of Trenton, the seat
of justice of Dade county. Reynolds and Sheridan are encamped near
Trenton. I feel better since my ride.

6. (Sunday.) Marched to Johnson's Crook, and bivouacked, at nightfall,
at McKay's Spring, on the north side of Lookout mountain; here my
advance regiment, the Forty-second Indiana, had a slight skirmish with
the enemy, in which one man was wounded.

7. We gained the summit of Lookout mountain, and the enemy retired to
the gaps on the south side.

8. Started at four o'clock in the morning and pushed for Cooper's Gap.
Surprised a cavalry picket at the foot of the mountain, in McLemore's
Cove, Chattanooga valley. In this little affair we captured five
sabers, one revolver, one carbine, one prisoner, and seriously wounded
one man.

While standing on a peak of Lookout, we saw far off to the east long
lines of dust trending slowly to the south, and inferred from this that
Bragg had abandoned Chattanooga, and was either retiring before us or
making preparations to check the center and right of our line.

9. Marched up the valley to Stephen's Gap and rejoined the division.

10. Our division marched across McLemore's Cove to Pigeon mountain,
found Dug Gap obstructed, and the enemy in force on the right, left, and
front. The skirmishers of the advance brigade, Colonel Surwell's, were
engaged somewhat, and during the night information poured in upon us,
from all quarters, that the enemy, in strength, was making dispositions
to surround and cut us off before reinforcements could arrive.

11. Two brigades of Baird's division joined us about 10 A. M. Five
thousand of the enemy's cavalry were reported to be moving to our left
and rear; soon after, his infantry appeared on our right and left, and,
a little later, in our front. From the summit of Pigeon mountain, the
rebels could observe all our movements, and form a good estimate of our
entire force. Our immense train, swelled now by the transportation of
Baird's division to near four hundred wagons, compelled us to select
such positions as would enable us to protect the train, and not such as
were most favorable for making an offensive or defensive fight.

It was now impossible for Brannan and Reynolds to reach us in time to
render assistance. General Negley concluded, therefore, to fall back,
and ordered me to move to Bailey's Cross-roads, and await the passage of
the wagon train to the rear. The enemy attacked soon after, but were
held in check until the transportation had time to return to Stephens'
Gap.

12. We expected an attack this morning, but, reinforcements arriving,
the enemy retired. This afternoon Brannan made a reconnoissance, but the
result I have not ascertained; there was, however, no fighting.

I am writing this in the woods, where we are bivouacking for the night.
For nearly two weeks, now, I have not had my clothes off; and for
perhaps not more than two nights of the time have I had my boots and
spurs off. I have arisen at three o'clock in the morning and not lain
down until ten or eleven at night. My appetite is good and health
excellent. Last night my horse fell down with me, and on me, but strange
to say only injured himself.

We find great numbers of men in these mountains who profess to be loyal.
Our army is divided--Crittenden on the left, our corps (Thomas) in the
center, and McCook far to the right. The greatest danger we need
apprehend is that the enemy may concentrate rapidly and fight our widely
separated corps in detail. Our transportation, necessarily large in any
case, but unnecessarily large in this, impedes us very much. The roads
up and down the mountains are extremely bad; our progress has therefore
been slow, and the march hither a tedious one. The brigade lies in the
open field before me in battle line. The boys have had no time to rest
during the day, and have done much night work, but they hold up well. A
katydid has been very friendly with me to-night, and is now sitting on
the paper as if to read what I have written.

17. Marched from Bailey's Cross-roads to Owensford on the Chickamauga.

18. Ordered to relieve General Hazen, who held position on the road to
Crawfish Springs; but as he had received no orders, and as mine were but
verbal, he declined to move, and I therefore continued my march and
bivouacked at the springs.

About midnight I was ordered to proceed to a ford of the Chickamauga and
relieve a brigade of Palmer's division, commanded by Colonel Grose. The
night was dark and the road crooked. About two in the morning I reached
the place; and as Colonel Grose's pickets were being relieved and mine
substituted, occasional shots along the line indicated that the enemy
was in our immediate front.


CHICKAMAUGA.

19. At an early hour in the morning the enemy's pickets made their
appearance on the east side of the Chickamauga and engaged my
skirmishers. Some hours later he opened on us with two batteries, and a
sharp artillery fight ensued. During this engagement, the Fifteenth
Kentucky, Colonel Taylor, occupied an advanced position in the woods on
the low ground, and the shots of the artillery passed immediately over
it. I rode down to this regiment to see that the men were not disturbed
by the furious cannonading, and to obtain at the same time a better view
of the enemy. While thus absent, Captain Bridges, concluding that the
Confederate guns were too heavy for him, limbered up and fell back.
Hastening to the hill, I sent Captain Wilson with an order to Bridges to
return; and, being reinforced soon after by three pieces of Shultz's
First Ohio Battery, we opened again on the advancing columns of the
enemy, when they fell back precipitately, evidently concluding that the
lull in our firing and withdrawal of our artillery were simply devices
to draw them on.

In this affair eight men of the infantry were wounded; and Captain
Bridges had two men killed, nine wounded, and lost twelve horses.

About five o'clock in the afternoon I was directed to withdraw my picket
line--which had been greatly extended in order to connect with troops on
the left--as silently and carefully as possible, and return to Crawfish
Springs. Arriving at the springs, the boys were allowed time to fill
their canteens with water, when we pushed forward on the Chattanooga
road to a ridge near Osbern's, where we bivouacked for the night.

There had been heavy fighting on our left during the whole afternoon;
and while the boys were preparing supper, a very considerable engagement
was occurring not far distant to the east and south of us. Elsewhere an
occasional volley of musketry, and boom of artillery, with scattered
firing along an extended line indicated that the two grand armies were
concentrating for battle, and that the morrow would give us hot and
dangerous work.

20. (Sunday.) At an early hour in the morning I was directed to move
northward on the Chattanooga road and report to General Thomas. He
ordered me to go to the extreme left of our line, form perpendicularly
to the rear of Baird's division, connecting with his left. I disposed of
my brigade as directed. Baird's line appeared to run parallel with the
road, and mine running to the rear crossed the road. On this road and
near it I posted my artillery, and advanced my skirmishers to the edge
of the open field in front of the left and center of my line. The
position was a good one, and my brigade and the one on Baird's left
could have co-operated and assisted each other in maintaining it.
Fifteen minutes after this line was formed, Captain Gaw, of General
Thomas' staff, brought me a verbal order to advance my line to a ridge
or low hill (McDaniel's house), fully one-fourth of a mile distant. I
represented to him that in advancing I would necessarily leave a long
interval between my right and Baird's left, and also that I was already
in the position which General Thomas himself told me to occupy. He
replied that the order to move forward was imperative, and that I
was to be supported by Negley with the other two brigades of his
division. I could object no further, although the movement seemed
exceedingly unwise, and, therefore, pushed forward my men as rapidly
as possible to the point indicated. The Eighty-eighth Indiana (Colonel
Humphreys), on the left, moved into position without difficulty. The
Forty-second Indiana (Lieutenant-Colonel McIntyre), on its right, met
with considerable opposition in advancing through the woods, but
finally reached the ridge. The One Hundred and Fourth Illinois
(Lieutenant-Colonel Hapeman), and Fifteenth Kentucky (Colonel Taylor),
on the right, became engaged almost immediately and advanced slowly. The
enemy in strong force pressed them heavily in front and on the right
flank.

At this time I sent an aid to request General Baird or General King to
throw a force in the interval between my right and their left, and
dispatched Captain Wilson to the rear to hasten forward General Negley
to my support. My regiment on the right was confronted by so large a
force that it was compelled to fall back, which it did in good order,
contesting the ground stoutly. About this time a column of the enemy,
_en masse_, on the double quick, pressed into the interval between the
One Hundred and Fourth Illinois and Forty-second Indiana, and turned
with the evident intention of capturing the latter, which was then
busily engaged with the rebels in its front; but Captain Bridges opened
on it with grape and canister, when it broke and fell back in disorder
to the shelter of the woods. The Forty-second Indiana, but a moment
before almost surrounded, was thus enabled to fight its way to the left
and unite with the Eighty-eighth. Soon after this the enemy made another
and more furious assault upon the One Hundred and Fourth Illinois and
Fifteenth Kentucky, and, driving them back, advanced to within fifty
yards of my battery, and poured into it a heavy fire, killing Lieutenant
Bishop, and killing or wounding all the men and horses belonging to his
section, which consequently fell into rebel hands. Captain Bridges and
his officers, by the exercise of great courage and coolness, succeeded
in saving the remainder of the battery. It was in this encounter that
Captain LeFevre, of my staff, was killed, and Lieutenant Calkins, also
of the staff, was wounded.

The enemy having now gained the woods south of the open field and west
of the road, I opposed his further progress as well as I could with the
Fifteenth Kentucky and One Hundred and Fourth Illinois; but as he had
two full brigades, the struggle on our part seemed a hopeless one.
Fortunately, at this juncture, I discovered a battery on the road in our
rear (I think it was Captain Goodspeed's), and at my request the Captain
ordered it to change front and open fire. This additional opposition
served for a time to entirely check the enemy.

The Eighty-eighth and Forty-second Indiana, compelled, as their officers
claim, to make a detour to the left and rear, in order to escape capture
or utter annihilation, found General Negley, and were ordered to remain
with him, and finally to retire with him in the direction of Rossville.
This, however, I did not ascertain until ten hours later in the day.

Firing having now ceased in my front, and being the only mounted officer
or mounted man present, I left the Fifteenth Kentucky and One Hundred
and Fourth Illinois temporarily in charge of Colonel Taylor, and hurried
back to see General Thomas or Negley, and urge the necessity for more
troops to enable me to re-establish the line. On the way, and before
proceeding far, I met the Second Brigade of our division, Colonel
Stanley, advancing to my support. Had it reached me an hour earlier, I
feel assured that I would have been able to maintain the position which
I had just been compelled to abandon. I directed Colonel Stanley to form
a line of battle at once, at right angles with the road and on its left,
facing north. Returning to Colonel Taylor, I ordered him to fall back
with the Fifteenth Kentucky and One Hundred and Fourth Illinois, and
form in rear of the left of Stanley's line, as a support to it. Soon
after we had got our lines adjusted, the enemy pressed back the
skirmishers of the Fifteenth Kentucky and One Hundred and Fourth
Illinois, who had not been retired with the regiments, and, following
them up, drove in also the skirmish line of Stanley's brigade, whereupon
the Eleventh Michigan (Colonel Stoughton), and the Eighteenth Ohio
(Lieutenant-Colonel Grosvenor), gave him a well-directed volley, which
brought him to a halt. Our whole line then opened at short range, and he
wavered. I gave the order to advance, then to charge, and the brigade
rushed forward with a yell, drove the enemy fully one-fourth of a mile,
strewing the ground with his dead and wounded, and capturing many
prisoners. Among the latter was General Adams, the commander of a
Louisiana brigade.

Finding now that Colonel Taylor had not followed the movement with his
regiment and the One Hundred and Fourth Illinois, and seeing the
necessity for some support for a single line so extended, I hastened to
the rear, and, being unable to find Taylor where I had left him, I
induced four regiments, of I know not what command, which I found idle
in the woods, to move forward and form a second line.

At this time Captain Wilson, whom I had sent to General Negley some time
before the Second Brigade reached me, to inform him of my position and
need of assistance, returned, and brought from him a verbal order to
retire to the hill in the rear and join him. Convinced that the
withdrawal of the troops at this time from the position occupied might
endanger the whole left wing of the army, I thought best to defer the
execution of this order until I could see General Negley and explain to
him the necessity of maintaining and reinforcing it with the other
brigade of our division. But before Captain Wilson could find either
Colonel Taylor, who had in charge the Fifteenth Kentucky and One Hundred
and Fourth Illinois, or General Negley, the enemy made a fierce attack
on Stanley's brigade and forced it back. The unknown brigade which I had
posted in the rear to support it retired with unseemly haste, and
without firing a shot.

At this juncture frightened soldiers and occasional shots were coming
from the right and rear of our line, indicating that the right wing of
the army had either been thrown back or changed position. Stanley's
brigade, considerably scattered and shattered by the last furious
assault of the enemy, was gathered up by its officers and retired to the
ridge on the right and to the rear of the original line of battle.
Wilson and I made diligent efforts to find Taylor, but were unable to do
so. I was greatly provoked at his retirement without consulting me, and
at a time, too, when his presence was so greatly needed to support
Stanley. But later in the day I ascertained from him that he had been
ordered by Major Lowrie, General Negley's chief of staff, to join Negley
and retire with him to Rossville. He also had much to say about saving
many pieces of artillery; but it occurred to me that his presence on the
field was of much more importance than a few pieces of trumpery
artillery off the field. Why, at any rate, did he not notify me of the
order which he had received from the division commander? The charge of
Stanley's brigade had not occupied to exceed thirty minutes, and as soon
as it was ended I had returned to find him gone. The Colonel, however,
did, doubtless, what he conceived to be his duty, and for the best. His
courage had been tested on too many occasions to allow me to think that
anything but an error of judgment, or possibly the belief that under any
circumstances he was bound to obey the order of the major-general
commanding the division, could have induced him to abandon me.

Supposing my regiments and General Negley to be still on the field, I
again dispatched Captain Wilson in search of them, and in the meantime
stationed myself near a fragment of the Second Brigade of our division,
and gave such general directions to the troops about me as under the
circumstances I felt warranted in doing. I found abundant opportunity to
make myself useful. Gathering up scattered detachments of a dozen
different commands, I filled up an unoccupied space on the ridge between
Harker, of Wood's division, on the left, and Brannan, on the right, and
this point we held obstinately until sunset. Colonel Stoughton, Eleventh
Michigan; Lieutenant-Colonel Rappin, Nineteenth Illinois;
Lieutenant-Colonel Grosvenor, Eighteenth Ohio; Colonel Hunter,
Eighty-second Indiana; Colonel Hays and Lieutenant-Colonel Wharton,
Tenth Kentucky; Captain Stinchcomb, Seventeenth Ohio; and Captain
Kendrick, Seventy-ninth Pennsylvania, were there, each having a few men
of their respective commands; and they and their men fought and
struggled and clung to that ridge with an obstinate, persistent,
desperate courage, unsurpassed, I believe, on any field. I robbed the
dead of cartridges and distributed them to the men; and once when, after
a desperate struggle, our troops were driven from the crest, and the
enemy's flag waved above it, the men were rallied, and I rode up the
hill with them, waving my hat, and shouting like a madman. Thus we
charged, and the enemy only saved his colors by throwing them down the
hill. However much we may say of those who held command, justice compels
the acknowledgment that no officer exhibited more courage on that
occasion than the humblest private in the ranks.

About four o'clock we saw away off to our rear the banners and
glittering guns of a division coming toward us, and we became agitated
by doubt and hope. Are they friends or foes? The thunder, as of a
thousand anvils, still goes on in our front. Men fall around us like
leaves in autumn. Thomas, Garfield, Wood, and others are in consultation
below the hill just in rear of Harker. The approaching troops are said
to be ours, and we feel a throb of exultation. Before they arrive we
ascertain that the division is Steedman's; and finally, as they come up,
I recognize my old friend, Colonel Mitchell, of the One Hundred and
Thirteenth. They go into action on our right, and as they press forward
the roar of the musketry redoubles; the battle seems to be working off
in that direction. There is now a comparative lull in our front, and I
ride over to the right, and become involved in a regiment which has been
thrown out of line and into confusion by another regiment that retreated
through it in disorder. I assist Colonel Mitchell in rallying it, and it
goes into the fight again. Returning to my old place, I find that
disorganized bodies of men are coming rapidly from the left, in
regiments, companies, squads, and singly. I meet General Wood, and ask
if I shall not halt and reorganize them. He tells me to do so; but I
find the task impossible. They do not recognize me as their commander,
and most of them will not obey my orders. Some few, indeed, I manage to
hold together; but the great mass drift by me to the woods in the rear.
The dead are lying every-where; the wounded are continually passing to
the rear; the thunder of the guns and roll of musketry are unceasing and
unabated until nightfall. Then the fury of the battle gradually dies
away, and finally we have a silence, broken only by a cheer here and
there along the enemy's line.

Wilson and I are together near the ridge, where we have been all the
afternoon. We have heard nothing of Negley nor of my regiments. We take
it for granted, however, that they are somewhere on the field. As the
night darkens we discover a line of fires off to our left and rear,
toward McDaniels' house. That is the place where Negley should have been
in the morning, and we conclude he must be there now.

We have been badly used during the day; but it does not occur to us that
our army has been whipped. We start together to find Negley. We have had
nothing to eat since early morning, and so, passing a corn-field, we
stop for a moment to fill our pockets with corn; then, proceeding on our
way, we pass through an unused field, grown up with brush, and here meet
a man coming toward us on horseback. I said to him, "Are those our
troops?" pointing in the direction of the line of fires. He answered,
"Yes; our troops are on the road and just beyond it." Pretty soon we
emerged from the brushy woods and entered an open field; just before us
was a long line of fires, and soldiers busily engaged preparing supper.
We had approached to within two hundred feet of them, and could hear the
soldiers talk and laugh, as soldiers will, over the incidents of the
day, when we discerned that we were riding straight into the enemy's
line. Instantly wheeling our horses, we drove the spurs into them and
lay down on their backs. We had been discovered, and a dozen or more
shots were sent after us; but we escaped unharmed. The man we met in the
unused field had mistaken us for Confederate officers. Two or three
shots were fired at us as we approached our own line, but the darkness
saved us.

Near eight o'clock in the evening I ascertained, from General Wood, that
the army had been ordered to fall back to Rossville, and I started at
once to inform Colonel Stoughton and others on the ridge; but I found
that they had been apprised of the movement, and were then on the road
to the rear.

The march to Rossville was a melancholy one. All along the road, for
miles, wounded men were lying. They had crawled or hobbled slowly away
from the fury of the battle, become exhausted, and lay down by the
roadside to die. Some were calling the names and numbers of their
regiments, but many had become too weak to do this; by midnight the
column had passed by. What must have been their agony, mental and
physical, as they lay in the dreary woods, sensible that there was no
one to comfort or to care for them, and that in a few hours more their
career on earth would be ended.

At a little brook, which crossed the road, Wilson and I stopped to
water our horses. The remains of a fire, which some soldiers had
kindled, were raked together, and laying a couple of ears of corn on the
coals for our own use, we gave the remainder of what we had in our
pockets to the poor beasts; they, also, had fasted since early morning.

How many terrible scenes of the day's battle recur to us as we ride on
in the darkness. We see again the soldier whose bowels were protruding,
and hear him cry, "Jesus, have mercy on my soul!" What multitudes of
thought were then crowding into the narrow half hour which he had yet to
live--what regrets, what hopes, what fears! The sky was darkening, earth
fading; wealth, power, fame, the prizes most esteemed of men, were as
nothing. His only hope lay in the Saviour of whom his mother had taught
him. I doubt not his earnest, agonizing prayer was heard. Nay, to doubt
would be to question the mercy of God!

A Confederate boy, who should have been at home with his mother, and
whose leg had been fearfully torn by a minnie ball, hailed me as I was
galloping by early in the day. He was bleeding to death, and crying
bitterly. I gave him my handkerchief, and shouted back to him, as I
hurried on, "Bind up the leg tight!"

The adjutant of the rebel General Adams called to me as I passed him. He
wanted help, but I could not help him--could not even help our own poor
boys who lay bleeding near him.

Sammy Snyder lay on the field wounded; as I handed him my canteen he
said, "General, I did my duty." "I know that, Sammy; I never doubted
that you would do your duty." The most painful recollection to one who
has gone through a battle, is that of the friends lying wounded and
dying and who needed help so much when you were utterly powerless to aid
them.

Between ten and eleven o'clock, at night, I reached Rossville, and found
one of my regiments, the Forty-second Indiana, on picket one mile south
of that place, and the other regiments encamped near the town. My men
were surprised and rejoiced to see me. It had been currently reported
that I was killed. One fellow claimed to know the exact spot on my body
where the ball hit me; while another, not willing to be outdone, had
given a minute description of the locality where I fell. General Negley
rendered me good service by giving me something to eat and drink, for I
was hungry as a wolf.

At this hour of the night (eleven to twelve o'clock) the army is simply
a mob. There appears to be neither organization nor discipline. The
various commands are mixed up in what seems to be inextricable
confusion. Were a division of the enemy to pounce down upon us between
this and morning, I fear the Army of the Cumberland would be blotted
out.

21. Early this morning the army was again got into order. Officers and
soldiers found their regiments, regiments their brigades, and brigades
their divisions. My brigade was posted on a high ridge, east of
Rossville and near it. About ten o'clock A. M. it was attacked by a
brigade of mounted infantry, a part of Forrest's command, under Colonel
Dibble. After a sharp fight of half an hour, in which the Fifteenth
Kentucky, Colonel Taylor, and the Forty-second Indiana,
Lieutenant-Colonel McIntyre, were principally engaged, the enemy was
repulsed, and retired leaving his dead and a portion of his wounded on
the field. Of his dead, one officer and eight men were left within a few
rods of our line. One little boy, so badly wounded they could not carry
him off, said, with tears and sobs, "They have run off and left me in
the woods to die." I directed the boys to carry him into our lines and
care for him.

At midnight, the Fifteenth Kentucky was deployed on the skirmish line;
the other regiments of the brigade withdrawn, and started on the way to
Chattanooga. A little later the Fifteenth Kentucky quietly retired and
proceeded to the same place.

22. We are at Chattanooga.

With the exception of a cold, great exhaustion, and extreme hoarseness,
occasioned by much hallooing, I am in good condition. The rebels have
followed us and are taking position in our front.

24. At midnight the enemy attempted to drive in our pickets, and an
engagement ensued, which lasted an hour or more, and was quite brisk.

26. This morning another furious assault was made on our picket line;
but, after a short time, the rebels retired and permitted us to remain
quiet for the remainder of the day.

Their pickets are plainly seen from our lines, and their signal flags
are discernable on Mission ridge. Occasionally we see their columns
moving. Our army is busily engaged fortifying.

27. (Sunday.) Had a good night's rest, and am feeling very well. The day
is a quiet one.



OCTOBER, 1863.


1. Have been trying to persuade myself that I am unwell enough to ask
for a leave, but it will not work. The moment after I come to the
conclusion that I am really sick, and can not stand it longer, I begin
to feel better. The very thought of getting home, and seeing wife and
children, cures me at once.

3. The two armies are lying face to face. The Federal and Confederate
sentinels walk their beats in sight of each other. The quarters of the
rebel generals may be seen from our camps with the naked eye. The tents
of their troops dot the hillsides. To-night we see their signal lights
off to the right on the summit of Lookout mountain, and off to the left
on the knobs of Mission ridge. Their long lines of camp fires almost
encompass us. But the camp fires of the Army of the Cumberland are
burning also. Bruised and torn by a two days' unequal contest, its flags
are still up, and its men still unwhipped. It has taken its position
here, and here, by God's help, it will remain.

Colonel Hobart was captured at Chickamauga, and a fear is entertained
that he may have been wounded.

4. This is a pleasant October morning, rather windy and cool, but not at
all uncomfortable. The bands are mingling with the autumn breezes such
martial airs as are common in camps, with now and then a sentimental
strain, which awakens recollections of other days, when we were
younger--thought more of sweethearts than of war, when, in fact, we did
not think of war at all except as something of the past.

Sitting at my tent door, with a field glass, I can see away off to the
right, on the highest peak of Lookout mountain, a man waving a red flag
to and fro. He is a rebel officer, signaling to the Confederate generals
what he observes of importance in the valley. From his position he can
look down into our camp, see every rifle pit, and almost count the
pieces of artillery in our fortifications.

Captain Johnson, of General Negley's staff, has just been in, and tells
me the pickets of the two armies are growing quite intimate, sitting
about on logs together, talking over the great battle, and exchanging
views as to the results of a future engagement.

General Negley called a few minutes ago and invited me to dine with him
at five o'clock. The General looks demoralized, and, I think, regrets
somewhat the part he took, or rather the part he failed to take, in the
battle of Chickamauga. Remarks are made in reference to his conduct on
that occasion which are other than complimentary. The General doubtless
did what he thought was best, and probably had orders which will justify
his action. After a battle there is always more or less bad feeling,
regiments, brigades, and corps claiming that other regiments, brigades,
and corps failed to do their whole duty, and should therefore be held
responsible for this or that misfortune.

There was a rumor, for some days before the battle of Chickamauga, that
Burnside was on the way to join us, and we shouted Burnside to the boys,
on the day of the battle, until we became hoarse. Did the line stagger
and show a disposition to retire: "Stand up, boys, reinforcements are
coming; Burnside is near." Once, when Palmer's division was falling back
through a corn-field, our line was hotly pressed. Pointing to Palmer's
columns, which were coming from the left toward the right, the officers
shouted, "Give it to 'em, boys, Burnside is here," and the boys went in
with renewed confidence. But, alas, at nightfall Burnside had played
out, and the hearts of our brave fellows went down with the sun.
Burnside is now regarded as a myth, a fictitious warrior, who is said to
be coming to the rescue of men sorely pressed, but who never comes. When
an improbable story is told to the boys, now, they express their
unbelief by the simple word "Burnside," sometimes adding, "O yes, we
know him."

5. The enemy opened on us, at 11 A. M., from batteries located on the
point of Lookout mountain, and continued to favor us with cast-iron in
the shape of shell and solid shot until sunset. He did little damage,
however, three men only were wounded, and these but slightly. A shell
entered the door of a dog tent, near which two soldiers of the
Eighteenth Ohio were standing, and buried itself in the ground, when
one of the soldiers turned very coolly to the other and said, "There,
you d--d fool, you see what you get by leaving your door open."

6. The enemy unusually silent.

7. Visited the picket line this afternoon. A rebel line officer came to
within a few rods of our picket station, to exchange papers, and stood
and chatted for some time with the Federal officer. There appears to be
a perfect understanding that neither party shall fire unless an advance
is made in force.



NOVEMBER, 1863.


11. My new brigade consists of the following regiments:

One Hundred and Thirteenth Ohio Infantry, Colonel John G. Mitchell.

One Hundred and Twenty-first Ohio Infantry, Colonel H. B. Banning.

One Hundred and Eighth Ohio Infantry, Lieutenant-Colonel Piepho.

Ninety-eighth Ohio Infantry, Major Shane.

Third Ohio Infantry, Captain Leroy S. Bell.

Seventy-eighth Illinois Infantry, Colonel Van Vleck.

Thirty-fourth Illinois Infantry, Colonel Van Tassell.

There has been much suffering among the men. They have for weeks been
reduced to quarter rations, and at times so eager for food that the
commissary store-rooms would be thronged, and the few crumbs which fell
from broken boxes of hard-bread carefully gathered up and eaten. Men
have followed the forage wagons and picked up the grains of corn which
fell from them, and in some instances they have picked up the grains of
corn from the mud where mules have been fed. The suffering among the
animals has been intense. Hundreds of mules and horses have died of
starvation. Now, however, that we have possession of the river, the men
are fully supplied, but the poor horses and mules are still suffering. A
day or two more will, I trust, enable us to provide well for them also.
Two steamboats are plying between this and Chattanooga, and one immense
wagon train is also busy. Supplies are coming forward with a reasonable
degree of rapidity. The men appear to be in good health and excellent
spirits.

12. We are encamped on Stringer's ridge, on the north side of the
Tennessee, immediately opposite Chattanooga. This morning Colonel
Mitchell and I rode to the picket line of the brigade. The line runs
along the river, opposite and to the north of the point of Lookout
mountain. At the time, a heavy fog rising from the water veiled somewhat
the gigantic proportions of Lookout point, or the nose of Lookout, as it
is sometimes designated. While standing on the bank, at the water's
edge, peering through the mist, to get a better view of two Confederate
soldiers, on the opposite shore, a heavy sound broke from the summit of
Lookout mountain, and a shell went whizzing over into Hooker's camps.
Pretty soon a battery opened on what is called Moccasin point, on the
north side of the river, and replied to Lookout. Later in the day
Moccasin and Lookout got into an angry discussion which lasted two
hours. These two batteries have a special spite at each other, and
almost every day thunder away in the most terrible manner. Lookout
throws his missiles too high and Moccasin too low, so that usually the
only loss sustained by either is in ammunition. Moccasin, however, makes
the biggest noise. The sound of his guns goes crashing and echoing along
the sides of Lookout in a way that must be particularly gratifying to
Moccasin's soul. I fear, however, that both these gigantic gentlemen are
deaf as adders, or they would not so delight in kicking up such a
hellebaloo.

This afternoon I rode over to Chattanooga. Called at the quarters of my
division commander, General Jeff. C. Davis, but found him absent;
stopped at Department Head-quarters and saw General Reynolds, chief of
staff; caught sight of Generals Hooker, Howard, and Gordon Granger. Soon
General Thomas entered the room and shook hands with me. On my way back
to camp I called on General Rousseau; had a long and pleasant
conversation with him. He goes to Nashville to-morrow to assume command
of the District of Tennessee. He does not like the way in which he has
been treated; thinks there is a disposition on the part of those in
authority to shelve him, and that his assignment to Nashville is for the
purpose of letting him down easily. Palmer, who has been assigned to the
command of the Fourteenth Corps, is Rousseau's junior in rank, and this
grinds him. He referred very kindly to the old Third Division, and said
it won him his stars. I told him I was exceedingly anxious to get home;
that it seemed almost impossible for me to remain longer. He said that
I must continue until they made me a major-general. I replied that I
neither expected nor desired promotion.

At the river I met Father Stanley, of the Eighteenth Ohio. He presides
over the swing ferry, in which he takes especial delight. A long rope,
fastened to a stake in the middle of the river, is attached to the boat,
and the current is made to swing it from one shore to the other.

14. My fleet-footed black horse is dead. Did the new moon, which I saw
so squarely over my left shoulder when riding him over Waldron's ridge,
augur this?

The rebel journals are expressing great dissatisfaction at Bragg's
failure to take Chattanooga, and insist upon his doing so without
further delay. On the other hand, the authorities at Washington are
probably urging Grant to move, fearing if he does not that Burnside will
be overwhelmed. Thus both generals must do something soon in order to
satisfy their respective masters. There will be a battle or a foot-race
within a week or two.

15. Have read Whitelaw Reid's statement of the causes of Rosecrans'
removal. He is, I presume, in the main correct. Investigation will show
that the army could have gotten into Chattanooga without a battle on the
Chickamauga. There would have been a battle here, doubtless, and defeat
would have resulted probably in our destruction; yet it seems reasonable
to suppose that, if able to hold Chattanooga after defeat, we would have
been able to do so before.


MISSION RIDGE.

20. Orders have been issued, and to-morrow a great battle will be
fought. May God be with our army and favor us with a substantial
victory! My brigade will move at daylight. It is now getting ready.

Order to move countermanded at midnight.

22. The day is delightful. Lookout and Moccasin are furious. The
Eleventh Corps (Howard's) is now crossing the pontoon bridge, just below
and before us, to take position for to-morrow's engagement. Sherman is
also moving up the river on the north side, with a view to getting at
the enemy's right flank. My brigade will be under arms at daylight, and
ready to move. Our division will operate with Sherman on the left.
Hitherto I have gone into battle almost without knowing it; now we are
about to bring on a terrible conflict, and have abundant time for
reflection. I can not affirm that the prospect has a tendency to elevate
one's spirits. There are men, doubtless, who enjoy having their legs
sawed off, their heads trepanned, and their ribs reset, but I am not one
of them. I am disposed to think of home and family--of the great
suffering which results from engagements between immense armies.
Somebody--Wellington, I guess--said there was nothing worse than a great
victory except a great defeat.

Rode with Colonel Mitchell four miles up the river to General Davis'
quarters; met there General Morgan, commanding First Brigade of our
division; Colonel Dan McCook, commanding Third Brigade, and Mr. Dana,
Assistant Secretary of War.

23. It is now half-past five o'clock in the morning. The moon has gone
down, and it is that darkest hour which is said to precede the dawn. My
troops have been up since three o'clock busily engaged making
preparation for the day's work. Judging from the almost continuous
whistling of the cars off beyond Mission Ridge, the rebels have an
intimation of the attack to be made, and are busy either bringing
reinforcements or preparing to evacuate.

Noon. There has been a hitch in affairs, and I am still in my tent at
the old place.

About 2 P. M. a division or more was sent out to reconnoiter the enemy's
front. The movement resulted in a sharp fight, which lasted until after
sunset. Both artillery and infantry were engaged. As night grew on we
could see the flash of the enemy's guns all along the crest of Mission
Ridge, and then hear the report, and the prolonged reverberations as the
sound went crashing among ridges, hills, and mountains. Rumor says that
our troops captured five hundred prisoners.

24. Moved to Caldwell's, four miles up the river. A pontoon bridge was
thrown across the stream; but there were many troops in advance of us,
and my brigade did not reach the south side until after one o'clock. Our
division was held in reserve; so we stacked arms and lay upon the grass
midway between the river and the foot of Mission Ridge, and listened to
the preliminary music of the guns as the National line was being
adjusted for to-morrow's battle.

25. During the day, as we listened to the roar of the conflict, I
thought I detected in the management what I had never discovered before
on the battle-field, a little common sense. Dash is handsome, genius
glorious; but modest, old-fashioned, practical, every-day sense is the
trump, after all, and the only thing one can securely rely upon for
permanent success in any line, either civil or military. This element
evidently dominated in this battle. The struggle along Mission Ridge
seemed more like a series of independent battles than one grand
conflict. There were few times during the day when the engagement
appeared to be heavy and continuous along the whole line. There
certainly was not an extended and unceasing roll, as at Chickamauga and
Stone river, but rather a succession of heavy blows. Now it would
thunder furiously on the extreme right; then the left would take up the
sledge, and finally the center would begin to pound; and so the National
giant appeared to skip from point to point along the ridge, striking
rapid and thundering blows here and there, as if seeking the weak place
in his antagonist's armor. The enemy, thoroughly bewildered, finally
became most fearful of Sherman, who was raising a perfect pandemonium on
his flank, and so strengthened his right at the expense of other
portions of his line, when Thomas struck him in the center, and he
abandoned the field. The loss must be comparatively small, but the
victory is all the more glorious for this very reason.

26. At one o'clock in the morning we crossed the Chickamauga in pursuit
of the retreating enemy. The First Brigade of our division having the
lead, I had nothing to do but follow it. At Chickamauga depot we came in
sight of the rebels, and formed line of battle to attack; but they
retired, leaving the warehouses containing their supplies in flames. At
3 P. M. my brigade was ordered to head the column, and we drove the
enemy's rear guard before us without meeting with any serious opposition
until nightfall, when, on arriving at Mrs. Sheppard's spring branch,
near Graysville, a brigade of Confederate troops, with a battery, under
command of Brigadier-General Manny, opened on us with considerable
violence. A sharp encounter ensued of about an hour's duration,
resulting in the defeat of the enemy and the wounding of the rebel
general. My brigade behaved well, did most of the fighting, and, owing
to the darkness, probably, sustained but little loss. When General Davis
came up I asked permission to make a detour through the woods to the
right, for the purpose of overtaking and cutting off the enemy's train;
but he thought it not advisable to attempt it.



DECEMBER, 1863.


I will not undertake to give a detailed account of our march to
Knoxville, for the relief of Burnside, and the return to Chattanooga. We
were gone three weeks, and during that time had no change of clothing,
and were compelled to obtain our food from the corn-cribs, hen-roosts,
sheep-pens, and smoke-houses on the way. The incidents of this trip,
through the valleys of East Tennessee, where the waters of the Hiawasse,
and the Chetowa, and the Ocoee, and the Estonola ripple through
corn-fields and meadows, and beneath shadows of evergreen ridges, will
be laid aside for a more convenient season. I append simply a letter of
General Sherman:


                 "HEAD-QUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE TENNESSEE,}
                       "CHATTANOOGA, _December 18, 1863_.   }

          "GENERAL JEFF. C. DAVIS, _Chattanooga_.

          "DEAR GENERAL--In our recent short but most useful
          campaign it was my good fortune to have attached
          to me the corps of General Howard, and the
          division commanded by yourself. I now desire to
          thank you personally and officially for the
          handsome manner in which you and your command have
          borne themselves throughout. You led in the
          pursuit of Bragg's army on the route designated
          for my command, and I admired the skill with which
          you handled the division at Chickamauga, and more
          especially in the short and sharp encounter, at
          nightfall, near Graysville.

          "When General Grant called on us, unexpectedly and
          without due preparation, to march to Knoxville for
          the relief of General Burnside, you and your
          officers devoted yourselves to the work like
          soldiers and patriots, marching through cold and
          mud without a murmur, trusting to accidents for
          shelter and subsistence.

          "During the whole march, whenever I encountered
          your command, I found all the officers at their
          proper places and the men in admirable order. This
          is the true test, and I pronounce your division
          one of the best ordered in the service. I wish you
          all honor and success in your career, and shall
          deem myself most fortunate if the incidents of war
          bring us together again.

          "Be kind enough to say to General Morgan, General
          Beatty, and Colonel McCook, your brigade
          commanders, that I have publicly and privately
          commended their brigades, and that I stand
          prepared, at all times, to assist them in whatever
          way lies in my power.

          "I again thank you personally, and beg to
          subscribe myself,         Your sincere friend,

                    "W. T. SHERMAN, Major-General."

Colonel Van Vleck, Seventy-eight Illinois, was kind enough in his report
to say:

"In behalf of the entire regiment I tender to the general commanding the
brigade, my sincere thanks for his uniform kindness, and for his
solicitude for the men during all their hardships and suffering, as well
as for his undaunted courage, self-possession, and military skill in
time of danger."

26. Moved to McAffee's Springs, six miles from Chattanooga, and two
miles from the battle-field of Chickamauga. My quarters are in the State
of Tennessee, those of my troops in Georgia. The line between the states
is about forty yards from where I sit. On our way hither, we saw many
things to remind us of the Confederate army--villages of log huts,
chimneys, old clothing, and miles of rifle pits.

27. Just a moment ago I asked Wilson the day of the week, and he
astonished me by saying it was Sunday. It is the first time I ever
passed a Sabbath, from daylight to dark, without knowing it.

Wilson lies on his cot to-night a disappointed man. His application for
a leave was disapproved.

I am quartered in a log hut; a blanket over the doorway excludes the
damp air and the cold blasts. The immense chinks, or rather lack of
immense chinks, in various parts of the edifice, leave abundance of room
for the admission of light. There are no windows, but this is fortunate,
for if there were, they, like the door, would need covering, and
blankets are scarce. The fire-place, however, is grand, and would be
creditable to a castle.

The forest in which we are encamped, was, in former times, a rendezvous
for the blacklegs, thieves, murderers, and outlaws, generally of two
States, Tennessee and Georgia. An old inhabitant informs me he has seen
hundreds of these persecuted and proscribed gentry encamped about this
spring. When an officer of Tennessee came with a writ to arrest them,
they would step a few yards into the State of Georgia and laugh at him.
So, when Georgia sought to lay its official clutches on an offending
Georgian, the latter would walk over into Tennessee and argue the case
across the line. It was a very convenient spot for law-breakers. To
reach across this imaginary line, and draw a man from Tennessee, would
be kidnapping, an insult to a sovereign State, and in a States'-rights
country such a procedure could not be tolerated. Requisitions from the
governors of Tennessee and Georgia might, of course, be procured, but
this would take time, and in this time the offender could walk leisurely
into Alabama or North Carolina, neither of which States is very far
away. In fact, the presence of large numbers of these desperados, in
this locality, at all seasons of the year, has prevented its settlement
by good men, and, in consequence, there are thousands of acres on which
there has scarcely been a field cleared, or even a tree cut.

The somber forest, with its peculiar history, suggests to our minds the
green woods of old England, where Robin Hood and his merry men were wont
to pass their idle time; or the Black Forest of Germany, where thieves
and highwaymen found concealment in days of old.

What a country for the romancer! Here is the dense wilderness, the
Tennessee and Chickamauga, the precipitous Lookout with his foot-hills,
spurs, coves, and water-falls. Here are cosy little valleys from which
the world, with its noise, bustle, confusions, and cares, is excluded.
Here have congregated the bloody villains and sneaking thieves; the
plumed knights, dashing horsemen, and stubborn infantry. Here are the
two great battle-fields of Chickamauga and Mission Ridge. Here neighbors
have divided, and families separated to fight on questions of National
policy. Here, in short, every thing is supplied to the poet but the
invention to construct the plot of his tale, and the genius to breathe
life into the characters.

It may be possible, however, that the country is yet too young, and its
incidents too new, to make it a fertile field for the novelist. The
imagination works best amid scenes half known and half forgotten. When
time shall have thrown its shadows over the events of the last century,
and the real and unreal become so intermingled in the minds of men as to
become indistinguishable, imaginary Robin Hoods will find hiding places
in the caves; innocent men, in deadly peril, will seek safety in the
mountain fastnesses until the danger be past; conspirators will meet in
the shadowy recesses to concoct their hellish plots, over which truth,
courage, and honesty will finally triumph. Here the blue and the gray
will meet to fight, and to be reconciled; and there will not be wanting
the Helen McGregors and Die Vernons to give color and interest to the
scene.

27. Our horses are on quarter feed.

Some benevolent gentleman should suggest a sanitary fair for the benefit
of the disabled horses and mules of the Federal army. There is no
suffering so intense as theirs. They are driven, with whip and spur, on
half and quarter food, until they drop from exhaustion, and then
abandoned to die in the mud-hole where they fall. At Parker's Gap, on
our return from Tennessee, I saw a poor white horse that had been rolled
down the hill to get it out of the road. It had lodged against a fallen
tree, feet uppermost; to get up the hill was impossible, and to roll
down certain destruction. So the poor brute lay there, looking pitiful
enough, his big frame trembling with fright, his great eyes looking
anxiously, imploringly for help. A man can give vent to his sufferings,
he can ask for assistance, he can find some relief either in crying,
praying, or cursing; but for the poor exhausted and abandoned beast
there is no help, no relief, no hope.

To-day we picked up, on the battle-field of Chickamauga, the skull of a
man who had been shot in the head. It was smooth, white, and glossy. A
little over three months ago this skull was full of life, hope, and
ambition. He who carried it into battle had, doubtless, mother, sisters,
friends, whose happiness was, to some extent, dependent upon him. They
mourn for him now, unless, possibly, they hope still to hear that he is
safe and well. Vain hope. Sun, rain, and crows have united in the work
of stripping the flesh from his bones, and while the greater part of
these lay whitening where they fell, the skull has been rolling about
the field the sport and plaything of the winds. This is war, and amid
such scenes we are supposed to think of the amount of our salary, and of
what the newspapers may say of us.

28. One of my orderlies approached me on my weak side to-day, by
presenting me four cigars. Cigars are now rarely seen in camp. Sutlers
have not been permitted to come further south than Bridgeport; and had
it not been for the trip into East Tennessee the brigade would have been
utterly destitute of tobacco.

While bivouacking on the Hiawasse, a citizen named Trotter, came into
camp. He was an old man, and professed to be loyal. I interrogated him
on the tobacco question. He replied, "The crap has been mitey poor fur a
year or two. I don't use terbacker myself, but my wife used to chaw it;
but the frost has been a nippen of it fur a year or two, and it is so
poor she has quit chawen ontirely."

When returning from Knoxville, we passed a farm house which stood near
the roadside. Three young women were standing at the gate, and appeared
to be in excellent spirits. Captain Wager inquired if they had heard
from Knoxville. "O yes," they answered, "General Longstreet has captured
Knoxville and all of General Burnside's men." "Indeed," said the
Captain; "what about Chattanooga?" "Well, we heard that Bragg had moved
back to Dalton." "You have not heard, then, that Bragg was whipped;
lost sixty pieces of artillery and many thousand men?" "O no!" "You
have not heard that Longstreet was defeated at Knoxville, and compelled
to fall back with heavy loss?" "No, no; we don't believe a word of it. A
man, who came from Knoxville and knows all about it, says that you uns
are retreating now as fast as you can. You can't whip our fellers."
"Well, ladies," said the Captain, "I am glad to see you feeling so well
under adverse circumstances. Good-by."

The girls were evidently determined that the Yank should not deceive
them.

At another place quite a number of women and children were standing by
the roadside. As the column approached, said one of the women to a
soldier: "Is these uns Yankees?" "Yes, madam," replied the boy, "regular
blue-bellied Yankees." "We never seed any you uns before." "Well, keep a
sharp lookout and you'll see they all have horns on."

One day, while I was at Davis' quarters, near Columbus, a preacher came
in and said he wanted to sell all the property he could to the army and
get greenbacks, as he desired to move to Illinois, where his
brother-in-law resided, and his Confederate notes would not be worth a
dime there. "How is that, Parson," said Davis, affecting to
misunderstand him; "not worth a damn there?" "No, sir, no, sir; not
worth a dime, sir. You misunderstood me, sir. I said not worth a dime
there." "I beg your pardon, Parson," responded Davis; "I thought you
said not worth a damn there, and was surprised to hear you say so."

While we were encamped on the banks of the Hiawasse, a Union man, near
seventy years old, was murdered by guerrillas. Not long before, a young
lady, the daughter of a Methodist minister, was robbed and murdered near
the same place. Murders and robberies are as common occurrences in that
portion of Tennessee as marriages in Ohio, and excite about as little
attention. Horse stealing is not considered an offense.

29. Nothing of interest has transpired to-day. Bugles, drums, drills,
parades--the old story over and over again; the usual number of
corn-cakes eaten, of pipes smoked, of papers respectfully forwarded, of
how-do-ye-do's to colonels, captains, lieutenants, and soldiers. You put
on your hat and take a short walk. It does you no good. Returning you
lie down on the cot, and undertake to sleep; but you have already slept
too much, and you get up and smoke again, look over an old paper, yawn,
throw the paper down, and conclude it is confoundedly dull. Jack brings
in dinner. You see somebody passing; it is Captain Clayson, the
Judge-Advocate, and you cry out: "Hold on, Captain; come in and have a
bite of dinner." He concludes to do so. Being a judge-advocate he talks
law, and impresses you with the idea that every other judge-advocate has
in some respects been faulty; but he has taken pains to master his
duties perfectly, and makes no mistakes. Pretty soon Major Shane drops
in, and you ask him to dine; but he has just been to dinner, and thanks
you. Observing Captain Clayson, he asks how the business of the
court-martial progresses, and says: "By the way, Captain, the sentence
in that quartermaster's case was disapproved because the record was
defective." The Captain blushes. He made up the record, and it strikes
him the Major's remark is very untimely.

It is dull!

30. Took a ten-mile ride this afternoon. Two miles from camp I met
Lieutenant Platt, one of my aids. He had asked permission in the morning
to go into the country to secure a lady for a dance, which is to take
place a night or two hence. I asked: "Where have you been, Lieutenant?"
"At Mrs. Calisspe's, the house on the left, yonder." I did not, of
course, ask if he had been successful in his mission; but as I
approached the little frame in which Mrs. Calisspe resided, I thought I
would drop in and see what sort of a woman had drawn the Lieutenant so
far from camp. Knocking at the door, a feminine voice said "Come in,"
and I entered. There were three females. The elder I took to be Mrs.
Calisspe. A handsome, neatly-dressed young lady I concluded was the one
the Lieutenant sought. A heavy and rather dull woman, who stood leaning
against the wall, I set down as a dependent or servant in the family.
"Beg pardon, madam, is this the direct road to Shallow Ford?" "Yes, sir,
the straight road. Won't you take a seat?" "Thank you, no. Good
evening." Trotting along over the road which Mrs. Calisspe said was
straight, but which, in fact, was exceedingly crooked, we came finally
to the camp of the Thirteenth Michigan, a regiment which General Thomas
supposes to be engaged in cutting saw-logs, when, in truth, its
principal business is strolling about the country stealing chickens. It
is, however, known as the saw-log regiment.

On our return from Shallow Ford, as we approached Mrs. Calisspe's, we
saw her handsome daughter on the porch inspecting a side-saddle, and
concluded from this that the gallant Lieutenant's application had been
successful, and that she proposed to accompany him to the ball on
horseback. As we galloped by the house, a little flaxen-haired, chubby
boy, who had climbed the fence, extended his head over the top rail and
jabbered at us at the top of his voice; but the handsome young lady did
not favor us with even a glance.

31. It is late. Hours ago the bugles notified the boys that it was time
to retire to their dens. I have been reading Thackeray's "Lovell, the
Widower," and as I sat alone in the silence of the middle night, the
scenes depicted grew distinct and life-like; the characters encompassed
me about real living men and women; the drawing-rooms, dining-halls,
parlors, opened out before me; the streets, walks, drives, were all
visible, and I became a spectator instead of a reader. Suddenly a low,
unearthly wail broke the stillness, and my hair stiffened somewhat at
the roots, as the fancy struck me that I heard the voice of the defunct
Mrs. Lovell. A moment's reflection, however, dispelled this
disagreeable thought. Looking toward the corner of the cabin whence the
ghostly sound emanated, I discovered a strange cat. My long-legged boots
followed each other in quick succession toward the unhappy kitten, and I
yelled "scat" in a very vindictive way.



JANUARY 1, 1864.


Standing on a peak of Mission Ridge to-day, we had spread out before us
one of the grandest prospects which ever delighted the eye of man.
Northward Waldron's Ridge and Lookout mountain rose massive and
precipitous, and seemed the boundary wall of the world. Below them was
the Tennessee, like a ribbon of silver; Chattanooga, with its thousands
of white tents and miles of fortifications. Southward was the
Chickamauga, and beyond a succession of ridges, rising higher and
higher, until the eye rested upon the blue tops of the great mountains
of North Carolina. The fact that a hundred and fifty thousand men, with
all the appliances of war, have struggled for the possession of these
mountains, rivers, and ridges, gives a solemn interest to the scene, and
renders it one of the most interesting, as it is one of the grandest, in
the world.

When history shall have recorded the thrilling tragedies enacted here;
when poets shall have illuminated every hill-top and mountain peak with
the glow of their imagination; when the novelist shall have given it a
population from his fertile brain, what place can be more attractive to
the traveler?

Looking on this panorama of mountains, ridges, rivers, and valleys, one
has a juster conception of the power of God. Reflecting upon the deeds
that have been done here, he obtains a truer knowledge of the character
of man, and the incontestable evidences of his nobility.

       *       *       *       *       *

Standing here to-day, I take off my hat to the reader, if by possibility
there be one who has had the patience to follow me thus far, and as I
bid him good-by, wish him "A Happy New Year."



CAPTURE, IMPRISONMENT,

AND

ESCAPE,

BY

GENERAL HARRISON C. HOBART,

OF MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN.



EXPLANATORY.


Among the Union officers who escaped from Libby Prison at Richmond, on
the night of the 9th of February, 1864, was my esteemed friend, General
Harrison C. Hobart, then Colonel of the Twenty-first Wisconsin Volunteer
Infantry. His name is mentioned quite frequently in the preceding pages.
Ten years after the war closed, he spent a few days at my house, and
while there was requested to tell the story of his capture,
imprisonment, and escape. My children gathered about him, and listened
to his narrative with an intensity of interest which I am very sure they
never exhibited when receiving words of admonition and advice from their
father.

While my manuscript was in the hands of the publishers, it occurred to
me that General Hobart's story would be as interesting to others as it
had been to my own family, and so I wrote, urging him to furnish it to
me for publication. He finally consented to do so, and I have the
pleasure now of presenting it to the reader. It bears upon its face the
evidence of its entire truthfulness, and yet is as interesting as a
romance.

JOHN BEATTY.



GENERAL HOBART'S NARRATIVE.


The battles of Chickamauga were fought on the 19th and 20th of
September, 1863. The Twenty-first Wisconsin, which I then commanded,
formed a part of Thomas' memorable line, and fought through the battles
of Saturday and Sunday. At the close of the second day, Thomas' Corps
still maintained its position, and presented an unbroken front to the
enemy, but the right of our army having fallen back, the tide of battle
was turning against us.

To avoid a flank movement, our brigade was ordered to leave the
breastworks, which they had held against the severest fire of the enemy
during the day, and fall back to a second position. Here only a portion
of the men, with three regimental standards, were rallied. A rebel
battery was instantly placed in position on our right, and rebel cavalry
swept between us and the retreating army.

Being the ranking officer among those who rallied, I directed the men to
cut their way through to our retreating line. I was on the left of this
movement to the rear, and, to avoid the approach of horsemen, rapidly
passed to the left through a dense cluster of small pines, and
instantly found myself in the immediate front of a rebel line of
infantry. I halted, being dismounted, and an officer advanced and
offered his hand, saying that he was glad to see me, and proposed to
introduce me to his commander, General Cleburne. I replied, that I was
not particularly pleased to see him, but, under the circumstances,
should not decline his invitation.

I met the General, who was mounted and being cheered by his men, and
surrendered to him my sword. He inquired where I had been fighting. I
said, "Right there," pointing to the line of Thomas' Corps. He replied,
"This line has given us our chief trouble, sir; your soldiers have
fought like brave men; come with me and I will see that no one insults
or interferes with you."

It was now after sun-down, and the last guns of the terrible battle of
Chickamauga were dying away along the hillsides of Mission Ridge. A
large number of prisoners of war were soon gathered, and marched to the
enemy's rear across the Chickamauga. Here we witnessed the fearful
results of the battle. The ground strewed with the dead and wounded, the
shattered fragments of transportation, and a general demoralization
among the forces, told the fearful price which the enemy had paid for
their victory. More than fifteen hundred soldiers, prisoners of war,
camped by a large spring to pass the remainder of a cold night; some
without blankets or overcoats, and all without provisions.

The next day we were marched about thirty miles to Tunnel Hill, where
we received our first rations from the enemy. On this march, the only
food we obtained was from a field of green sorghum. Here we were placed
in box cars and taken to Atlanta. On arriving at this place, we were
first marched to an open field outside of the city, near a fountain of
water, and surrounded by a guard. Kind-hearted people came out of the
city, bringing bread with them, which they threw to us across the guard
line. Immediately a second line was established, distant several rods
outside of the first, to prevent them from giving us food.

From this place we were marched to the old slave-pen, and every man, as
he entered the narrow gate, was compelled to give up his overcoat and
blanket. I remonstrated with the officers for stripping the soldiers of
their necessary clothing, as an act in violation of civilized warfare
and inhuman. The men who were executing this infamous duty, did not deny
these charges, but excused themselves on the ground that they were
simply obeying an order of General Bragg from the front. That night I
saw seventeen hundred Union soldiers lie down upon the ground, without
an overcoat or blanket to protect them from the cold earth, or shield
them from the heavy Southern dew.

The next morning we were ordered to take the cars, and proceed on our
way to Richmond. These men arose from the ground, cold and wet with dew,
and under my command organized and formed in column by companies, and
marched to the depot through one of the main streets of Atlanta, singing
in full chorus the Star Spangled Banner. Crowds gathered around us as
we entered the cars. A guard with muskets accompanied the train.

I will here relate an incident which occurred on our way. We overtook a
train of open cars, filled with Confederate wounded from the
battle-field. The two trains stopped for some time alongside and in
close proximity. It was a spectacle to see the men of the two armies
intently observe each other. On the one side was the calm, pale face of
the wounded; on the other, the earnest, deep sympathy of the captive. No
unkind look or word passed between them. Of the seventeen hundred
prisoners, there was not one who would not have given his coat, or
reached for his last cent, to help his wounded brother.

On the last day of September, after traveling more than eight hundred
miles from the battle-field of Chickamauga, we arrived at Richmond, and
the officers of the Cumberland Army, to the number of about two hundred
and fifty, were marched to Libby Prison.

This building has a front of about one hundred and forty feet, with a
depth of about one hundred and five. There are nine rooms, each one
hundred and two feet long, by forty-five wide. The height of ceilings
from the floor is about seven feet. The building is also divided into
three apartments by brick walls, and there is a basement below.

On entering the prison, we were severally searched, and every thing of
value taken from us. Some of us saved our money by putting it into the
seams of our garments before we arrived at Richmond. The officers of
the Army of the Cumberland were assigned to the middle rooms of the
second and third stories. The lower middle room was used as a general
kitchen, and the basement immediately below was fitted up with cells for
the confinement and punishment of offenders. These rooms received the
_sobriquet_ of Chickamauga.

The whole number of officers of the army and navy in prison at this time
was about eleven hundred--all having access to each other, except those
in the hospital. There were no beds or chairs, and all slept on the
floor. I shared a horse blanket with Surgeon Dixon, of Wisconsin, which
was the only bedding we had for some time. Our bread was made of
unbolted corn, and was cold and clammy. We were sometimes furnished with
fresh beef, corn beef, and sometimes with rice and vegetable soup. The
men formed themselves into messes, and each took his turn in preparing
such food as we could get.

At one time, no meat was furnished for about nine days, and the reason
given was, that their soldiers at the front required all they could
obtain. During this period, we received nothing but corn bread. Kind
friends sent us boxes of provisions from the North, which were opened
and examined by the Confederates, and if nothing objectionable was
found, and it pleased them, the party to whom a box was sent was
directed to come down and get it. Many of these were never delivered.
Every generous soul shared the contents of his box with his more
unfortunate companions. Had it not been for this provision, our life in
Libby would have been intolerable.

There was no glass in the windows, and for some time no fire in the
rooms. An application for window glass, made during the severest cold
weather, was answered by the assurance that the Confederates had none to
furnish. The worst affliction, however, was the vermin, which invaded
every department.

Each officer was permitted to write home the amount of three lines per
week; but even these brief messages were not always allowed to leave
Richmond.

A variety of schemes were adopted to improve or kill time. We played
chess, cards, opened a theater, organized a band of minstrels, delivered
lectures, established schools for teaching dancing, singing, the French
language, and military tactics, read books, published a manuscript
newspaper, held debates, and by these means rendered life tolerable,
though by no means agreeable.

An incident occurred, after we had been in prison some time, which made
a deep impression upon every one. Some of our men had been confined in a
block not far from Libby, called the Pemberton Building. An order had
been issued to remove them to North Carolina. When they left, their line
of march was along the street in our front, and when they passed under
our windows, we threw out drawers, shirts, stockings, etc., which they
gathered up; and when they raised their pale and emaciated faces to
greet their old commanders, there were but few dry eyes in Libby. Many
of them were making their last march.

Our sick were removed to the room set apart, on the ground floor, for a
hospital; and, when one died, he was put in a box of rough boards,
placed in an open wagon, and rapidly driven away over the stony streets.
There were no flowers from loving hands, and no mourning pageant, but a
thousand hearts in Libby followed the gallant dead to his place of rest.

We were seldom visited by any person. The only call I received was from
General Breckenridge, of Kentucky; I had known him before the war.
During our interview, I referred to the resources of the North and
South, and asked him upon what ground he hoped the Confederacy could
succeed. His only reply was, that, "five millions of people, determined
to be free, could not be conquered."

There being no exchange of prisoners at this time, projects of escape
were discussed from the beginning. One scheme was, for a few persons at
a time to put on the dress of a citizen, and attempt to pass the guard
as visitors. A few actually recovered their liberty in this manner.
Another plan was, to dig a tunnel to the city sewer, which was
understood to pass under the street in front of the prison, and escape
through that to the river. This project might have succeeded had not the
water interfered. The final and successful plan was as follows:

On the ground floor of the building, on a level with the street, was a
kitchen containing a fire-place, at a stove connected with which the
prisoners inhabiting the rooms above did their cooking. Beneath this
floor was a basement, one of the rooms which was used as a store-room.
This store-room was under the hospital and next to the street, and
though not directly under the kitchen, was so located that it was
possible to reach it by digging downward and rearward through the
masonry work of the chimney. From this basement room it was proposed to
construct a tunnel under the street to a point beneath a shed, connected
with a brick block upon the opposite side, and from this place to pass
into the street in the guise of citizens. A knowledge of this plan was
confided to about twenty-five, and nothing was known of the proceedings
by the others until two or three days before the escape. A table knife,
chisel, and spittoon were secured for working tools, when operations
commenced. Sufficient of the masonry was removed from the fire-place to
admit the passage of a man through a diagonal cut to the store-room
below; and an excavation was then made through the foundation wall
toward the street, and the construction of the tunnel proceeded night by
night. But two persons could work at the same time. One would enter the
hole with his tools and a small tallow candle, dragging the spittoon
after him attached to a string. The other would fan air into the passage
with his hat, and with another string would draw out the novel dirt car
when loaded, concealing its contents beneath the straw and rubbish of
the cellar. Each morning before daylight the working party returned to
their rooms, after carefully closing the mouth of the tunnel, and
skillfully replacing the bricks in the chimney.

An error occurred during the prosecution of this work that nearly proved
fatal to the enterprise. After a sufficient distance was supposed to
have been made, an excavation was commenced to reach the top of the
ground. The person working, carefully felt his way upward, when suddenly
a small amount of the top earth fell in, and through this he could
plainly see two sentinels apparently looking at him. One said to the
other, "I have been hearing a strange noise in the ground there!" After
listening a short time, the other replied that it was "nothing but
rats." The working party had not been seen. After consultation, this
opening was carefully filled with dirt and shored up. The work was then
recommenced, and after digging about fifteen feet further the objective
point under the shed was successfully reached.

This tunnel required about thirty days of patient, tedious and dangerous
labor. It was eight feet below the street, between sixty and seventy
feet in length, and barely large enough for a full-grown person to crawl
through, by pulling and pushing himself along with his hands and feet.
Among the officers entitled to merit in the execution of this work, Col.
T. E. Rose, of Pennsylvania, deserves particular mention.

When all was complete, the company was organized into two parties; the
first under the charge of Major McDonald, of Ohio, and the second was
placed under my direction. The parties having provided themselves with
citizens' clothing, which had at different times been sent to the
prison by friends in the North, and having filled their pockets with
bread and dried meat from their boxes, commenced to escape about seven
P. M., on the 9th of February, 1864; Major McDonald's party leaving
first. In order to distract the attention of the guard, a dancing party
with music was extemporized in the same room. As each one had to pass
out in the immediate presence of these Confederate soldiers, when he
stepped into the street from the outside of the line, and as the guard
were under orders to fire upon a prisoner escaping, without even calling
upon him to halt, the first men who descended to the tunnel wore that
quiet gloom so often seen in the army before going into battle. It was a
living drama; dancing in one part of the room, dark shadows disappearing
through the chimney in another part, and the same shadows re-appearing
upon the opposite walk, and the sentinel at his post, with a voice that
rang out upon the evening air, announcing: "Eight o'clock, Post No.
One," and "All is well!" and at the same time a Yankee soldier was
passing in his front, and a line of Yankee soldiers were crawling under
his feet. The passage was so small that the process of departure was
necessarily slow; a few inches of progress only being made at each
effort, and to facilitate locomotion outside garments were taken off and
pushed forward.

By this time the proceedings had become known to the whole prison, and
as the first men emerged upon the street, and quietly walked away, seen
by hundreds of their fellows, who crowded the windows, a wild
excitement and enthusiasm were created, and they rushed down to the
chimney, clamoring for the privilege of going out. It was the intention
of the parties, organized by those who constructed the tunnel, that no
others should leave until the next night, as it might materially
diminish their own chances of escape. But the thought of liberty and
pure air, and the death damp of the dark loathsome prison would not
allow them to listen to any denial. Major McDonald and myself then held
a parley, and it was arranged that the rope upon which we descended into
the basement, after the last of the two parties had passed out, should
be pulled up for the space of one hour; then it should be free to all in
prison.[A]

Having joined my fortunes with Col. T. S. West, of Wisconsin, we were
among the last of the second party who crawled through. About nine
o'clock in the evening we emerged from the tunnel, and cautiously
crossing an open yard to an arched driveway, we stepped out upon the
street and slowly walked away, apparently engaged in an earnest
conversation. As soon as we were out of range of the sentinels' guns, we
concluded it would be the safest course to turn and pass up through one
of the main streets of Richmond, as they would not suspect that
prisoners escaping would take that direction. My face being very pale,
and my beard long, clinging to the arm of Colonel W., I assumed the part
of a decrepit old man, who seemed to be in exceeding ill health, and
badly affected with a consumptive cough.

In this manner we passed beneath the glaring gaslights, and through the
crowded street, without creating a suspicion as to our real character.
We met the police, squads of soldiers, and many others, who gave me a
sympathizing look, and stepped aside on account of my apparent
infirmities. Approaching the suburbs of the town, we retreated into a
ravine, which enabled us to leave the city without passing out upon one
of the streets. While in prison I copied McClellan's war map of
Virginia, which aided us materially in this escape. Our objective points
were to cross the Chickahominy above New Bridge, then cross the
Yorkville Railroad, then strike and follow down the Miamisburg pike.

After resting and breathing pure air, the first time for more than four
months, we resumed our journey, agreeing not to speak above a whisper,
avoiding all houses and roads, and determining our course by the North
Star. In crossing roads, we traveled backwards, that the footsteps might
mislead our pursuers.

We soon came in sight of the main fortifications around Richmond, and
instantly dropping upon the ground we lay for a long time, listening and
watching for the presence of sentinels upon that part of the line. Being
satisfied that there were none in our immediate front, in the most
silent and cautious manner, we crossed over the fortification and
pursued our way through a tangled forest. Coming to a piece of low
ground, tired and exhausted, we lay down to rest. Our attention was
soon attracted by the presence of a series of excavations; and on a
close examination we found we were resting upon the battle-field of Fair
Oaks, and among the trenches in which the Confederates had buried our
dead; and, although it was the midnight hour, a strange feeling of
safety stole over me, and I felt as if we were among our friends. It was
the step and voice of the living that we dreaded.

At early dawn (Wednesday) we crossed a brook, and went upon a hillside
of low, thick pines to conceal ourselves, and rest during the day. The
Valley of the Chickahominy lay before us. While in this concealment, we
saw a blood-hound scenting our steps down to the place where we jumped
over the brook; it then went back and returned two or three times, but
finally left without attempting to cross the little stream. Late in the
evening, we went to the river and worked till after midnight to make or
find a crossing. The water was deep and cold, and, failing to accomplish
our purpose, we turned back to a haystack, and, covering ourselves with
hay, rested until the first light of morning (Thursday).

Going back to the river, we followed down its course until we found a
tree which had fallen nearly across the stream. Discovering a long pole,
we found that it would just touch the opposite shore from the limbs of
this tree. Hitching ourselves carefully along this pole, we reached the
left bank of the Chickahominy River.

We now felt as if escape was possible; but, hearing a noise like the
approach of troops, for we were satisfied that the enemy's cavalry must
be in full pursuit, we fled into a neighboring forest. As we approached
the center of a thicket, my eye suddenly caught the glimpse of a man
watching us from behind the root of a fallen tree. I concluded that we
had fallen into an ambush; but our momentary apprehension was joyfully
relieved by the discovery that this new-made acquaintance was Colonel W.
B. McCreary, of Michigan, and with him Major Terrence Clark, of
Illinois, who had gone through the tunnel with the first party that went
out, and were now passing the day in this secluded place. The Colonel
was one of my intimate friends, and when he recognized me he jumped to
his feet and threw his arms around me in an ecstasy of delight.

By this time the whole population had been informed of the escape, and
the country was alive with pursuers. We could distinctly hear the
reveille of the rebel troops, and the hum of their camps. Thus
reinforced, we agreed to travel in company. It was arranged that one of
the four should precede, searching out the way in the darkness, and
giving due notice of danger.

At dark we left our hiding place, and cautiously proceeded on our way.
Late at night we crossed the railroad running from Richmond to White
House, our second objective point. Here Colonel West saw a sentinel
sitting close by the railroad, asleep, with his gun resting against his
shoulder. Just before daybreak we went into a pine woods, after
traveling a distance of more than twenty miles, and, weary and tired,
we lay down to rest.

The morning (Friday) broke clear and beautiful, but with its bright
light came the bugle notes of the enemy's cavalry, who were in the pines
close by us. We instantly arose and fled away at the top of our speed,
expecting every moment to hear the crack of the rifle, or the sharp
command to halt. We struck a road and about faced to cross it, the only
time that we looked back. We pursued our rapid step until we came to a
dense chaparral, and into this we threaded our way until we reached an
almost impenetrable jungle. Crawling into the center, we threw ourselves
upon the ground completely exhausted. A bird flew into the branches
above us as we lay upon our backs, and the words burst from my lips:
"Dear little bird! Oh, that I had your wings!"

As soon as friendly darkness again returned, we moved forward, weary,
hungry, and footsore, still governed in our course by the North Star.
During all this toilsome way, but few words passed between us, and these
generally in low whispers. So untiring was the search, and so thoroughly
alarmed and watchful were the population, that we felt that our safety
depended upon a bare chance. Again making our way from wood to wood, and
avoiding farm houses as best we might, till the light of another morning
(Saturday), we retired to cover in the shade of a thick forest.

Saturday night the journey was resumed as usual. It was my turn to act
the part of picket and pilot. While rapidly leading the way through a
forest of low pines, I suddenly found myself in the presence of a
cavalry reserve. The men were warming themselves by a blazing fire, and
their horses were tied to trees around them. I was surprised and
alarmed; but recovering my self-possession, I remained motionless, and
soon perceived that my presence was unobserved. Carefully putting one
foot behind the other I retreated out of sight, and rapidly returned to
my party. Knowing that there were videttes sitting somewhere at the
front in the dark, we concluded to go back about two miles to a
plantation, and call at one of the outermost negro houses for
information. We returned, and I volunteered to make the call while the
others remained concealed at a distance.

I approached the door and rapped, and a woman's voice from within asked,
"who was there?" I replied, that "I was a traveler and had lost my way,
and wished to obtain some information about the road." She directed me
to go to another house, but I declined to do so, and after some further
conversation the door was opened, and I was surprised to find a large,
good-looking negro standing by her side, who had been listening to the
interview. He invited me to come in, and as soon as the door was closed,
he said: "I know who you are; you're one of dem 'scaped officers from
Richmond." Looking him full in the face, I placed my hand firmly upon
his shoulder, and said: "I am, and I know you are my friend." His eyes
sparkled as he repeated: "Yes, sir; yes, sir; but you musn't stay here;
a reg'ment of cavalry is right thar'," pointing to a place near by,
"and they pass this road all times of the night." The woman gave me a
piece of corn-bread and a cup of milk, and the man accompanying me, I
left the house, and soon finding my companions, our guide took us to a
secluded spot in a canebrake, and there explained the situation of the
picket in front. It was posted on a narrow neck of land between two
impassable swamps, and over this neck ran the main road to Williamsburg.
The negro proved to be a sharp, shrewd fellow, and we engaged him to
pilot us round this picket. After impressing us in his strongest
language with the danger both to him and to us of making the least
noise, he conducted us through a long canebrake path, then through
several fields, then directly over the road, crossing between the
cavalry reserve and their videttes, who were sitting upon their horses
but a few rods in front, and then took us around to the pike about a
mile beyond this last post of the rebels. After obtaining important
information from him concerning the way to the front, and giving him a
substantial reward, we cordially took his hand in parting. If good deeds
are recorded in Heaven, this slave appeared in the record that night.

The line of the pike was then rapidly followed as far as Diascum river,
which was reached just at light Sunday morning. To cross this river
without assistance from some quarter was found impossible. We tried to
wade through it, but failed in this attempt. We were seen by some of the
neighboring population, which largely increased our danger and
trepidation; for we had been informed by our guide that the enemy's
scouts came to this point every morning. After awhile we succeeded in
reaching an island in the river, but could get no farther, finding deep
water beyond. We endeavored to construct a raft but failed. The water
being extremely cold, and we being very wet and weary, we did not dare
attempt to swim the stream; and expecting every moment to see the
enemy's cavalry, our hearts sank within us. At this juncture a rebel
soldier was seen coming up the river in a row-boat with a gun.
Requesting my companions to lie down in the grass, I concealed myself in
the bushes close to the water to get a good view of the man. Finding his
countenance to indicate youth and benevolence, I accosted him as he
approached.

"Good morning; I have been waiting for you; they told me up at those
houses that I could get across the stream, but I find the bridge is
gone, and I am very wet and cold; if you will take me over, I will pay
you for your trouble."

The boat was turned into the shore, and as I stepped into it I knew that
boat was mine. Keeping my eye upon his gun, I said to him, "there are
three more of us," and they immediately stepped into the boat. "Where do
you all come from?" said the boatman, seeming to hesitate and consider.
We represented ourselves as farmers from different localities on the
Chickahominy. "The officers don't like to have me carry men over this
river," he said, evidently suspecting who we were. I replied, "that is
right; you should not carry soldiers or suspected characters." Then
placing my eyes upon him, I said, "pass your boat over!" it sped to the
other shore. We gave him one or two greenbacks, and he rapidly returned.
We knew we were discovered, and that the enemy's cavalry would very soon
be in hot pursuit, therefore we determined, after consultation, to go
into the first hiding place, and as near as possible to the river. The
wisdom of this course was soon demonstrated. The cavalry crossed the
stream, dashed by us, and thoroughly searched the country to the front,
not dreaming but we had gone forward. We did not leave our seclusion
until about midnight, and then felt our way with extreme care. The
proximity to Williamsburg was evident from the destruction every where
apparent in our path. There were no buildings, no inhabitants, and no
sound save our own weary footsteps; desolation reigned supreme. Stacks
of chimneys stood along our way like sentinels over the dead land.

For five days and six nights, hunted and almost exhausted, with the
stars for our guide, we had picked our way through surrounding perils
toward the camp-fires of our friends. We knew we were near the outposts
of the Union troops, and began to feel as if our trials were nearly
over. But we were now in danger of being shot as rebels by scouting
parties of our own army. To avoid the appearance of being spies, we took
the open road, alternately traveling and concealing ourselves, that we
might reconnoiter the way. About two o'clock in the morning, coming near
the shade of a dark forest that overhung the road, we were startled,
and brought to a stand, by the sharp and sudden command, "Halt!" Looking
in the direction whence it proceeded, we discovered the dark forms of a
dozen cavalrymen drawn up in line across the road. A voice came out of
the darkness, asking, "who are you?" We replied, "we are four
travelers!" The same voice said, "if you are travelers, come up here!"
Moving forward the cavalry surrounded us, and carefully looking at their
coats, I concluded they were gray, and was nerving myself for a
recapture. It was a supreme moment to the soul. One of my companions
asked, "are you Union soldiers?" In broad Pennsylvania language the
answer came, "well we are!" In a moment their uniforms changed to
glorious blue, and taking off our hats we gave one long exultant shout.
It was like passing from death unto life. Our hearts filled with
gratitude to Him whose sheltering arm had protected us in all that
dangerous way. Turning toward Richmond, I prayed in my heart that I
might have strength to return to my command.

I was afterwards in Sherman's advance to Atlanta; the March to the Sea
and through the Carolinas; entered Richmond with the Western army; and
had the supreme satisfaction of marching my brigade by Libby Prison.

FOOTNOTE:

[A] NOTE.--One hundred and nine prisoners escaped through this
tunnel that night, of whom fifty-seven reached our lines.



INDEX.


                                                              PAGE.

          March from Buckhannon West Virginia to Rich Mountain  18

          Battle of Rich Mountain                               24

          Beverly and Huttonville                               26

          Incidents at Cheat Mountain Pass                      28

          Camp at Elk Water                                     43

          The flag of truce                                     46

          Capture of De Lagniel                                 52

          The flood                                             61

          The advance and retreat of Lee                        67

          Ride to a log cabin in the mountains                  68

          Moonlight and music                                   69

          The Hoosiers stir up the enemy                        72

          The expedition to Big Springs                         75

          The accomplished colored gentleman                    78

          At Louisville Kentucky                                84

          March to Bacon Creek                                  86

          Incidents of the camp                                 87

          Trouble in the regiment                               91

          A little unpleasantness with the Colonel              97

          A case of disappointed love                           99

          The advance to Green River                           103

          The march to Nashville                               109

          A Southern lady wants protection                     112

          John Morgan on the rampage                           114

          Incidents at Nashville                               116

          March to Murfreesboro                                118

          The dash into North Alabama                          124

          General O. M. Mitchell                               127

          Rumors of the battle at Shiloh                       131

          Affair at Bridgeport                                 135

          The rendezvous of the Bushwhackers                   138

          The negro preacher                                   141

          Provost Marshal of Huntsville                        142

          Pudin' an' Tame                                      146

          Grape-vines from Richmond                            151

          Garfield and Ammen                                   156

          Two Pious men meet at Pittsburgh Landing             162

          Uncle Jacob tells a few stories                      163

          De coon am a great fiter                             167

          General Ammen as a teacher                           168

          The murder of General Robert McCook                  169

          The race for the Ohio River                          175

          The battle of Perryville, Kentucky                   176

          Pursuit of Bragg                                     182

          The Army of the Cumberland                           185

          Incidents on the way to Nashville                    186

          Colonel H. C. Hobart                                 192

          The advance on Murfreesboro                          198

          The battle of Stone River                            201

          A ride over the battle-field                         210

          The absentees                                        217

          T. Buchanan Reid, the poet                           225

          The Chiefs                                           235

          An interesting letter                                244

          The Third starts on the Streight raid                246

          A good fighter                                       252

          General Rosecrans angry                              255

          The Confederate account of Streight's surrender      267

          The lame horse                                       268

          Negley's party                                       277

          Go out to dinner                                     283

          Simon Bolivar Buckner (colored)                      284

          Advance on Tullahoma                                 285

          The retreat of the enemy                             290

          The Peace party                                      297

          Fact vs. Fiction                                     299

          Board for the examination of applicants for
            commissions in colored regiments                   312

          The advance to the Tennessee                         319

          Cross the Tennessee                                  327

          Battle of Chickamauga                                332

          Fight at Rossville                                   346

          Incidents at Chattanooga                             348

          Battle of Mission Ridge                              356

          March to Knoxville                                   359

          General Sherman's letter                             360

          Camp at McAffee's Spring                             362

          Good-by                                              372

          General H. C. Hobart's Narrative                     379

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 31, "genman" changed to "gentleman" (innocent old gentleman)

Page 42, "melancholly" changed to "melancholy" (a melancholy strain)

Page 49, "rumbbling" changed to "rumbling" (with a rumbling)

Page 62, "neccesary" changed to "necessary" (give the necessary)

Page 76, "befiting" changed to "befitting" (melody befitting so)

Page 133, "imporant" changed to "important" (equally important results)

Page 133, "to to" changed to "to" (us to Mrs. Rather)

Page 154, "fo" changed to "for" (our care for)

Page 154, "th" changed to "the" (we make the)

Page 154, "establshed" changed to "established" (when once established)

Page 170, "occurences" changed to "occurrences" (occurrences could
suggest)

Page 179, word "a" added to text (form a line)

Page 183, "jeolousies" changed to "jealousies" (petty jealousies
existing)

Page 274, "Vallandigham" changed to "Vallandingham" (accompanied
Vallandingham outside)

Page 278, "Shirked" changed to "shirked" (they shirked by)

Page 286, "Hardie's" changed to "Hardee's" (Hardee's corps was)

Page 304, "to to" change to "to" (Wilder to this)

Page 323, "cavliers" changed to "cavaliers" (of the cavaliers)

Page 323, "sure sure" changed to "sure" (quite sure Mrs.)

Page 325, "lieutenantcy" changed to "lieutenancy" (to a second
lieutenancy)

Page 329, "popuulation" changed to "population" (overflowing with
population)

Page 337, word "a" added to text (form a line)

Page 380, "Chicamauga" changed to "Chickamauga" (battle of Chickamauga)

Page 386, extraneous word "in" was removed from the text in the phrase:
"one of the rooms which was used as a store-room". The original read:
"one of the rooms in which was used as a store-room"

Page 398, "of" changed to "off" (taking off our)

Page 400, "Bushwackers" changed to "Bushwhackers" (rendevous of the
Bushwhackers)

Page 401, "Alaabma" changed to "Alabama" (into North Alabama)

Page 401, "Good-bye" changed to "Good-by" to match text.

Three instances each of secesh/sesesh were retained.

One instance each of the following words was retained:

          barefooted/bare-footed
          whitleather/whit-leather
          Jerroloman/Jerroloaman

Page 234, the section reads "an assault upon our works at twelve M." in
the original. It is unclear whether A. M. or P. M. was intended and so
this was retained.





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