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Title: Kelion Franklin Peddicord - of Quirk's Scouts, Morgan's Kentucky Cavalry, C. S. A.
Author: Logan, Mrs. India W. P.
Language: English
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KELION FRANKLIN PEDDICORD
[Illustration: N]
[Illustration:
KELION FRANKLIN PEDDICORD
1863
FRONTISPIECE
]
KELION FRANKLIN PEDDICORD
of Quirk’s Scouts
Morgan’s Kentucky Cavalry, C. S. A.
Biographical and Autobiographical
Together with a General Biographical Outline of the Peddicord Family
By MRS. INDIA W. P. LOGAN
[Illustration]
New York and Washington
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
1908
Copyright, 1908, by
Mrs. India W. P. Logan
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
PART I
Page
General Biographical Outline of the Peddicord Family, 9
PART II
Biographical Sketch and Autobiography of Kelion Franklin Peddicord 19
as Written in His “Journal” and in Letters from Military
Prisons, and as Jotted Down by Him During a Busy Life After the
War,
Chapter
I Youth and Early Manhood, 21
II The Journal, 29
III Prison Life, 149
IV After the War, 161
V Some Letters Received by Mrs. Logan, 164
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
Kelion Franklin Peddicord, 1863, _Frontispiece_
Columbus A. Peddicord, 12
Carolus J. Peddicord, 18
Kelion Franklin Peddicord, 1888, 50
PART I
GENERAL BIOGRAPHICAL OUTLINE OF THE PEDDICORD FAMILY
Our great-grandfather was Adam Peddicord. He married Elizabeth Barnes, a
daughter of James Barnes, the elder. Their son, Jasper Peddicord, our
paternal grandfather, was born in 1762 in Anne Arundel County, Maryland,
from whence he moved to Ohio in 1829. He died in Barnesville, Belmont
County, Ohio, on September 23, 1844, aged 82. Barnesville was named
after James Barnes, grandfather’s cousin. Caleb Peddicord, another
cousin of Grandfather Peddicord, emigrated from Maryland to Kentucky in
1830. Two other cousins of our grandfather, William and John Peddicord,
served in the war of 1812.
Amelia Hobbs-Peddicord, our paternal grandmother, was the daughter of
Thomas Hobbs. She was born in Maryland in 1767 and died March 23, 1841,
in Barnesville, Ohio.
Jared Hobbs, our maternal grandfather, was born in Howard County,
Maryland, March 22, 1772, and died on his farm in 1866 at the advanced
age of 94.
Our maternal grandmother was Elenor Shipley-Hobbs, daughter of Edward
Shipley. She was born in Howard County, Maryland, March 16, 1777, and
died August 21, 1828.
Wilson Lee Peddicord, our father, was born in Howard County, Maryland,
May 13, 1803, and died in Palmyra, Missouri, May 20, 1875, from injuries
caused by his team running away and throwing him under a large iron
field roller. He was a Royal Arch Mason, and Palmyra Lodge officiated at
his funeral.
Our mother, Keturah Barnes-Peddicord, the fifth child of Grandfather
Hobbs, was born in Howard County, Maryland, September 25, 1807, and died
January 9, 1876. She is buried near father in Palmyra, Missouri, where
she died.
Jared Hobbs and Elenor Shipley-Hobbs had six children:
1. Louisa, born October 16, 1801.
2. Robert T., born December 2, 1802.
3. Julia Ann, born April 3, 1804.
4. Corilla E., born March 2, 1806.
5. Keturah B., born September 25, 1807.
6. Teresa, born June 19, 1809.
Jasper Peddicord and Amelia Hobbs-Peddicord had twelve children; two of
whom died quite young:
Sons. Daughters.
1. Thomas. 1. Pleasants.
2. Asbury. 2. Rebecca.
3. Benjamin. 3. Anna.
4. Joseph. 4. Cordelia.
5. Wilson Lee. 5. Hannah (Dorsey).
Anna married John Holton.
Cordelia married Thomas Holton.
Pleasants married Jerry Bartholow.
Rebecca married Robert Musgrove.
Hannah (daughter by a second marriage to Miss Dorsey) never married.
Wilson Lee Peddicord and Keturah Barnes-Peddicord were married on
November 17, 1829, in Howard County, Maryland, by the Rev. T. Linthicum.
They had seven children:
1. Columbus Adolphus, born July 18, 1831.
2. Kelion Franklin, born October 1, 1833.
3. Indiana Washington, born December 15, 1835.
4. Ruth Elenor, born November 7, 1837.
5. Carolus Judkins, born November 27, 1840.
6. Laura Clay, born November 22, 1844.
7. Lily Louisa Pleasants, born August 28, 1849.
Columbus A. Peddicord and Mrs. Issa Meador-Peddicord were married March
31, 1859, in Sumner County, Tennessee, by Rev. John Winn. They had three
children:
1. Charles Lewis, born February, 1860.
2. Frank Morgan, born November, 1861.
3. Columbus, born 1863.
The following biographical sketch of Columbus A. Peddicord is by his
sister, Mrs. India P. Logan:
* * * * *
Columbus A. Peddicord was the oldest child in our family. Six feet tall
at eighteen years of age, the idol of our family, he was a model of
manly beauty, an image of our stately, beautiful mother. His chestnut,
curling hair, and his hazel eyes, clear pale complexion, perfect form,
and friendship with all classes made him a universal favorite. Impetuous
tempered, he forgave any who affronted him at the first overture. He was
a splendid shot at an early age, afraid of nothing in the world.
[Illustration:
COLUMBUS A. PEDDICORD
Capt. Independent Scouts, Morgan’s Cavalry
FACING 12
]
After the first year of service in the “Silver Grays,” a company of
Gallatin, Tennessee, in Colonel Bates’s regiment, Second Infantry,
Company K., he was with J. H. Morgan, and was often sent on detached
service. He was taken prisoner in 1863, and spent nineteen months
starving and freezing at Johnson’s Island. Exchanged in November, 1864,
he returned to find his wife in a Federal prison at Gallatin,
Tennessee—a ruse to catch him. His father succeeded in getting her freed
by going to Nashville to General Rosecrans, who banished her from
Tennessee, where she owned one hundred and sixty acres of land, which
was sold for taxes during reconstruction days. My brother Columbus was
furious at his wife’s treatment, and he and his men were conspicuous for
their daring until the close of the war.
He was farming near Glasgow Junction in Kentucky until August, 1867,
when he attended a Democratic barbecue at Glasgow City. While riding in
his carriage driven by the old faithful slave driver, he was approached
by four men, and asked if he would take them to the grounds. He
acquiesced. Three rode with him, and one with the driver. “You are
Captain Peddicord,” said one. He smiled, saying, “The Captain is played
out.” The man, using vile epithets, said, “A fine carriage for a d—d
rebel to ride in.” Brother, thinking they were joking, replied, “Yes,
but the rebel is played out, too.” After he found out they were
antagonistic, he stepped out and said, “Get out of my vehicle.” The one
who got out first went behind the carriage and shot at my brother,
hitting him in the left arm, shattering the bone. My brother then pulled
out his pistol, but, as he said afterward, it failed to go off for the
first time. The man shot again and struck his spine. He fell, and the
men ran, and as there were many old Confederates on the grounds the crew
disappeared quickly. My brother lived thirteen days. He is buried in the
old “Bell” family cemetery at Glasgow Junction, Kentucky. His wife and
two sons—one seven, one five and a half years old—were left to mourn his
loss.
* * * * *
Kelion Franklin Peddicord never married.
The following appreciation of his character is by his sister, Mrs. India
W. P. Logan:
In person my brother Kelion was about five feet eight inches in height,
pale olive in complexion, with dark gray eyes and fine, very dark brown
hair, and erect form, even when his hair had become white with age.
Though always cheerful, his countenance was grave and he seldom laughed.
He looked the soldier to the last time he walked the street, and died
like the “bravest of the brave.” With his soft hat under his arm, his
Kentucky Confederate badge on his breast (from the reunion in Louisville
in 1905), he was laid beside his father and mother for whom he had given
up his ambition of rising in his profession of civil engineer, becoming
the cheerful farmer until the death of his parents, when he came to
Palmyra, where he filled many positions of trust. He was a member of
Robert Buffner C. V. Camp at Hannibal. Kelion was one of the most
truthful persons I was ever acquainted with. This was a trait he
inherited. “If you cannot speak the truth,” he said, “say nothing.” He
was always chivalrous toward women and loved children to a great degree,
and was an uncommon judge of men.
Always uncomplaining, he said only once when ill, looking at the clock,
“It is so long.” He was ill eighteen days.
Kelion, as he was always called until his army life, was only two years
older than myself, and I corresponded with him when possible until the
last sixteen years of his life, during which he lived in my home. I wish
to say here that I can never forget the kindness of those who ministered
to him in his last illness. He was the last link that bound me to the
past.
Indiana W. Peddicord-Logan and Samuel Logan were married in St. Marys,
Pleasant County, Virginia, May 15, 1855. They had three children:
1. Eugene W., born June 27, 1856; died August 18, 1857.
2. Minnehaha, born May 21, 1858.
3. Ernest Lee, born April 26, 1862; died August 8, 1893.
Samuel Logan died of apoplexy in Parkersburg, West Virginia, April 14,
1896. He was buried in Palmyra, Missouri, April 17, 1896.
* * * * *
Ruth Elenor Peddicord-Byrd and William Hamilton Byrd were married April
27, 1881, by Rev. Dr. I. A. Wainwright at the National Hotel, in
Palmyra, Missouri.
William Hamilton Byrd died January 12, 1905. He was a descendant of Sir
William Byrd of “Westover,” Virginia.
* * * * *
Of Carolus J. Peddicord, his sister, Mrs. India P. Logan, writes:
Our youngest brother, Carolus J. Peddicord, was only twenty-two years
old when taken prisoner by General Paine’s soldiers at Gallatin,
Tennessee. He was during the first year of the war a member of Col. Ben
Hardin Helm’s First Kentucky Cavalry, Company A, and afterward belonged
to the same scouts with my brother, C. A. Peddicord. With five of his
men Carolus was put in a dungeon at Gallatin, on a stone floor, without
a blanket, until a comrade left his on being paroled by General Paine.
He was told if he would inform on his friends and the Southern
sympathizers that his life would be spared. He obstinately refused from
October until December, when he was informed that he would be taken out
on horseback to the country and be shot if he refused to guide them to
the homes of his friends. One friend who spent the last night in the
cell with him said to my brother, K. F. Peddicord, at a reunion in
Dallas, Texas, “Your brother was the bravest man I ever saw. He said, ‘I
can die, but never can I betray a trust.’” He was taken many miles out
into the country and shot in the forehead.
Carolus had auburn hair, extremely fair complexion, was pale, slender,
about five feet eight inches tall, with a graceful figure, and dark blue
laughing eyes like our father’s. He is buried at the old Bell family
cemetery in Kentucky.
Laura Clay Peddicord was born in Barnesville, Belmont County, Ohio, and
died at Fountain Head, Sumner County, Tennessee, May 18, 1867, having
been an invalid her whole life. She is buried at Fountain Head Church,
Sumner County, Tennessee.
* * * * *
Lily L. Peddicord-Webster and Thomas T. Webster were married December
21, 1887, in Kansas City, Missouri. They have one child, Frank Thursby,
born December 1, 1888.
[Illustration:
CAROLUS J. PEDDICORD
Member 1st Kentucky Cavalry
FACING 18
]
PART II
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH AND AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF KELION FRANKLIN PEDDICORD AS
WRITTEN IN HIS “JOURNAL” AND IN LETTERS FROM MILITARY PRISONS, AND AS
JOTTED DOWN BY HIM DURING A BUSY LIFE AFTER THE WAR
CHAPTER I
YOUTH AND EARLY MANHOOD
Kelion Franklin Peddicord was the second son of Wilson Lee Peddicord and
Keturah Barnes-Peddicord. He was born October 1, 1833, on a farm near
Barnesville, Belmont County, Ohio, the home of his Grandfather
Peddicord, where his parents lived when they moved from Maryland in
1830. The family moved to Barnesville, while he was yet unable to walk,
to the hotel called the Mansion House, later styled the Mills House.
His father was in charge of the Mansion House, and owned at the time
four or five large six-horse teams and wagons, which he kept for hauling
to and from the Baltimore, Maryland, market, over the National Turnpike.
He was an experienced tobacconist, buying, packing, and sending hundreds
of hogsheads of tobacco to the Baltimore market. They hauled tobacco
east, and brought dry goods and merchandise of every description west in
return.
Young Peddicord’s education was begun at the old brick “free”
schoolhouse, then the high school of the town. The first schoolmaster
was an old-timer by the name of Ashford. Another was Joseph Harris. When
the large academy was built he attended it, while under the charge of
that excellent professor, Nathaniel R. Smith, of Smith’s Grammar fame.
From Professor Smith Kelion received his first lessons in surveying,
having field practice, geology, and geometry. He was often a companion
of the Professor in his researches, and thus acquired a great fondness
for all that was curious in nature. This knowledge in after years aided
him much in his profession of civil engineering in the classification of
materials.
He was a good assistant in the tobacco house under his father, and had
become an expert assorter and packer when but twelve years old.
In 1846 his father moved with his family from the town of Barnesville to
a farm on the Ohio River, in Washington County, Ohio, at the foot of
what old river men called Long Reach, from its straight course of
eighteen miles. While living here the boy saw pass many Mexican war
soldiers en route to their homes from Mexico.
In the spring of 1850 the family moved to the Virginia side of the river
on a farm five miles above St. Marys, the county-seat of Pleasants
County, Virginia. With his eldest sister he attended the seminary school
conducted by Mrs. T. E. Curry, at the town of Grandview, Ohio, during
the winter of 1850 and 1851.
In December, 1850, the family moved again, this time to St. Marys,
Virginia. They resided there until December 15, 1856, during which time
his father was a railroad contractor on the Northwestern Virginia
Railroad, then under construction, grading several miles of heavy work.
The young man attended school a short term in St. Marys, then went to
his father’s works to act as timekeeper and bookkeeper for the force at
work.
Before he was twenty-one he received the appointment of second assistant
in a corps of civil engineers, from Chief Engineer Benjamin H. Latrobe,
of Baltimore, Maryland, with directions to report for duty to Cornelius
Mercer, resident engineer in charge of the First Residency, Second
Division of the N. W. V. R. R. He remained on the First Residency until
near the completion, acting as first assistant from the first day of
joining the corps. This was owing to the fact that the first assistant
was unable to take charge of the instruments and keep notes. Thus the
second assistant fell heir to the care of the transit and level and
other field instruments, and the note-book.
It was a great day to him, when on the second day in the service he was
sent to give the contractors, McCune & Gillespie, grade in the heavy
summit cut, keeping notes and running the level for nearly a mile from
the bench mark. This summit was the highest on the road, and the divide
between Middle Island and the Monongahela River. Water which fell on the
east side would have to travel nearly seven hundred miles before joining
in the Ohio that which fell, a few feet away, on the west side.
At one time the resident engineer, Mr. Mercer, was permitted a short
leave of absence, and the junior was left in charge of a tunnel, near
completion, where the skill of the engineer is tested—that of bringing
opposite lines together with slight variation. This he did
satisfactorily. He was promoted and transferred to the Second Residency,
Second Division, as first assistant to John Maxwell, resident engineer,
and J. C. C. Hoskins, division engineer, assisting in field work in
order to make complete his final estimates. Most of the time during his
stay at the Second Residency he was on office work.
Young Peddicord was next ordered to report at the office of the Fifth
Residency, Second Division, in company with A. C. Hoskins, and remained
at the fifth completing the unfinished office work.
Having finished the final estimates and reports he left Schumla,
Virginia, on February 7, 1856, for St. Marys, Virginia, where some time
was spent in assisting the firm of Logan, Kellar & Co., one of whom was
his brother-in-law, in their store, and in making collections of parties
in the interior counties.
On December 15, 1856, the family moved to Tennessee, where his father
had a number of miles of heavy work on the Louisville and Nashville
Railroad, under Mr. George McLeod, chief engineer, near Fountain Head,
in Sumner County. His sister, Mrs. Logan, accompanied the family.
On March 12, 1857, with Samuel Logan, who was going after his wife and
child, young Peddicord left St. Marys for Tennessee. They took the
steamer _Stephen Bayard_ for Parkersburg, Virginia, thence by steamer
_Silver Star_ to Galliopolis, Ohio, then by steamer _J. B. Ford_ to
Cincinnati, Ohio, then on steamer _Gazelle_ to Louisville, Kentucky, and
the _South America_ to Smithland at the mouth of the Cumberland River.
From there they traveled on the _V. K. Stephenson_ to Nashville, the
capital of Tennessee. Here they visited Mrs. James K. Polk’s residence,
the Capitol Building, then not completed, and other places of interest.
From Nashville they proceeded by stage coach to Gallatin, Sumner County,
Tennessee, north of which the family resided on the works.
Soon after reaching home he was taken sick with measles, caught from a
passenger in the stage coach.
Having letters from Chief Engineer Latrobe to Chief Engineer McLeod, he
received an appointment from the latter and was ordered to Nashville,
Tennessee, on June 11, 1857, where he was stationed up to April 23,
1858, as inspector of cross-ties, superintendent of bridge masonry and
superstructure, and receiving chairs and spikes and railroad iron. While
in Nashville, as a boyish exploit, he climbed the spire of the State
Capitol and hung his hat on the point.
Returning to Fountain Head in April, 1858, he spent a short time
attending to his father’s business, then joined him near Glasgow
Junction, Barren County, Kentucky, and aided in the completion of his
father’s last contract on the Louisville and Nashville Railroad in the
spring of 1859.
While residing near Glasgow Junction in 1859 and 1860 he discovered and
explored a number of caverns, the largest of which was the Hundred Dome
Cave, two and a half miles from the station. In connection with and
aided by John D. Courts, he fitted up and opened it to the sightseeing
public, having carriages to meet the trains for the accommodation of
visitors.
Although born and educated in Ohio, a Northern State, young Peddicord
believed truly and sincerely in the rights of States, and when war
became imminent his sympathy was all with the South, and he enlisted in
the Confederate States Army in September, 1861. Before enlisting he was
engaged in the service as special agent in re-shipping supplies and all
kinds of munitions, etc., from Glasgow Junction, L. & N. R. R., to the
State line of Tennessee. Permits would not be granted at Louisville,
Kentucky, to ship through, but by re-shipping freight and paying charges
with gold its southern destination was reached.
While thus engaged the young man met General, then Colonel, N. B.
Forrest, who tendered him a fine position, urging Kelion to go with him
in the service. The Colonel was on his way through Kentucky, taking out
his first company at the time. With some reluctance he was forced to
decline the Colonel’s kind offer, because of his engagement with the
shipping and commission merchants of Nashville, whose gold was entrusted
to him for a specific purpose.
For a record of young Peddicord’s service after enlistment in the
Confederate States Army we can do no better than use his Journal, as
completed by him in December, 1865.
CHAPTER II
THE JOURNAL
To
My beloved sister, Mrs. India W. P. Logan,
This little History
Is Dedicated and Inscribed by Her
Very grateful and affectionate brother,
FRANK.
PREFACE
This Journal of incidents and adventures, written at your request, was
never intended to pass beyond the circle of tried and particular
friends. The particular situation in which it was written, the character
of the writer, of his associates, and the Cause they represented—all
these peculiarities must be known, felt, and understood before you can
enter into the spirit of the enclosed composition.
With this consideration, these simple sketches are kindly submitted, and
placed under your protection, sincerely hoping they will be appreciated
and estimated according to their merits. And furthermore, that the honor
of the Cause, as well as of its defenders, be kept sacred, and to the
end of time unsullied.
THE AUTHOR.
GLASGOW JUNCTION, KENTUCKY.
DEAR SISTER:
I received, some time since, a request that I would write you an outline
of my experience in “the tented field” up to the date of my capture. It
will necessarily be very imperfect, and a very brief one, and perhaps it
will be as uninteresting as it is brief. Yet I can assure you that
nothing less than a long and continued interview could give you any just
conception or description of my experience and many exploits as a member
of Morgan’s Cavalry.
However, I trust this sketch may both please and interest you. To me, in
the mean time, it will only be a reminder of the long years of hardship,
exposure, and suffering in a Lost Cause which was so gallantly and
devotedly battled for that one would almost accuse the God of Battles of
injustice and impartiality; of using the Fates against a people in such
a sacred cause. That I have been a soldier in the service of the
Confederate States is not, and never will be, regretted. I am proud that
I was one who did not hesitate to join the standard of those in defense
of their country’s rights. Had I not done so I would now be chiding
myself with no little severity. Shame alone would cause me to blush
myself out of existence.
But pardon my digression. I will commence my sketch.
You are already aware, perhaps, that I enlisted in the cavalry service
of the Confederate States of America at Glasgow, Kentucky, in October,
1861, and in a company that was then being formed by Second Lieutenant
James W. Bowles, who had been duly authorized by the Confederate
Government to recruit a company of cavalry.
At Glasgow forty men were enlisted, and after some experience in
drilling and a few exciting engagements, such as scouting and
skirmishing, in which we were sometimes supported by Capt. John H.
Morgan and his company,—a favor we often returned,—we were ordered by
General Buckner to Bowling Green, Kentucky. On reporting to the General
we were instructed by him to report to Captain Morgan, commanding Camp
Burnham, one mile south of Bowling Green, where we went into camp.
Here we found the Lexington Rifles, Captain Morgan’s old company;
Captain Allen’s and Capt. John S. Churchill’s company, partly completed,
with which our company was, by order of the commandant, soon afterward
consolidated. The two captains, by the toss of a copper, decided who
should become the commander, and Lieutenant Bowles, our then acting
captain, being the successful one, Captain Churchill justly fell heir to
the second in command, the first lieutenancy. Our first lieutenant
became the second lieutenant of the new company, and the other first
lieutenant became our third, the very responsible position of orderly
sergeant falling to your most humble servant, and so on down the list.
At that time Captain Morgan had in camp three full companies, amounting
to about two hundred and seventy-five men, all splendidly mounted on
Kentucky’s best: Morgan’s own Company A, Capt. Thomas Allen’s Company B,
and Capt. Bowle’s Company C, forming “Morgan’s Squadron,” as it was
afterward known, and being under the command of Capt. John H. Morgan,
with First Lieutenant Basil W. Duke, of Company A, as acting adjutant,
subject to the command of General Buckner alone.
After remaining in camp near Bowling Green for some time, drilling and
making other preparations necessary to meet the foe successfully, we
moved to an encampment called “Camp Allen,” five miles south of Bowling
Green, between the L. and N. and the Memphis Branch railroads, where we
drilled constantly until the latter part of November, when we were
ordered to the front to form a portion of the advance-guard, then near
Green River, under the command of General Hindman. Here we remained on
active duty until the withdrawal of our forces from Bowling Green, which
withdrawal was caused by the enemy’s flank movement and the fall of Fort
Donelson, about the first of February, 1862. On the retreat the squadron
was the rear-guard of our army, that being the second time we had had
charge of the post of honor.
Leaving Camp Green on the 12th,—my last sight of home until the 27th of
June, 1865,—we passed through Bowling Green and encamped four miles
south of town. On the 13th our column reached Franklin, Kentucky, and
the evening of the 14th we were encamped one mile south of
Mitchellville, Tennessee. Here General Breckinridge, who was now in
command, General Buckner having gone to Fort Donelson, learned that the
enemy’s advance had reached Bowling Green. I shall not soon forget the
night we camped near Mitchellville, for we shared the fate of the
reindeer in having our beds on the snow.
On the 15th we reached Goodletsville, and on the 16th we marched into
Nashville. We remained on special duty in that city several days, and
until the main army had reached Huntsville, Alabama. On the arrival of
the enemy’s forces our little band steadily and quite sullenly gave way
before them until we reached Lavergne, about midway between Nashville
and Murfreesboro, meanwhile inflicting sudden and unexpected blows,
causing the enemy so much loss as to make him advance slowly and with
the utmost caution.
It was on this retreat that our commander and the squadron, by their
many daring deeds, brought themselves first into notice and gained such
notoriety as to make them afterward of no little terror to the enemy.
And from this time forward, until July 19, 1863, the date of our capture
in Ohio, they earned and gained more laurels, captured more stores and
provisions, and had less reverses than any other command in either
service. Never was a commander so much admired, so devotedly loved, or
one in whom his soldiers placed so much confidence as a leader, as was
our dashing and gallant chief. Any of us—all of us—would gladly have
died in his defense, and each one would have envied the man who lost his
life defending him. So much was he trusted that his men never dreamed of
failing him in anything that he attempted. In all engagements he was our
guiding star and hero.
Doubtless you learned at the time they were enacted of the many daring
and spirited engagements and scouts while we were encamped at Lavergne
and Murfreesboro, the enemy near us, at the Asylum and Nashville. I
presume you heard particularly of the General’s personal adventures,
sometimes alone, sometimes with a chosen few. It is exciting and
interesting to read such incidents, but to be an actor in them is the
only way to realize “the heart’s exultant swell.” That can only be felt;
it cannot be described even by those who have been through it.
During our stay in Murfreesboro a portion of the squadron went with the
General, then Captain, to Gallatin, very much to the surprise of the
enemy who were garrisoning the town. On this occasion Columbus A.
Peddicord, having just come from Virginia, acted as guide. His regiment
had been disbanded with orders to reorganize on the first of April,
1862.
It was here that I contracted the illness which afterward resulted in
typhoid pneumonia, it being brought on by constant exposure to the long
cold rains during the first two weeks of March while we were scouting in
the vicinity of the capital. We lived in the saddle the most of the
time, and our clothing was continually wet.
Captain Morgan and sixty horse were stationed in Murfreesboro, and they
held the town; the rest of the squadron, meantime, encamped on the pike
running from Shelbyville, a pike intersecting the Franklin and Nashville
pike twelve miles from Nashville. This disposition of our small force
nonplussed the enemy entirely and successfully. They could not solve the
mystery, or imagine what our number was, or where or who we were.
Our leader, by his rapid blows and daredevil encounters, caused them to
believe his entire force was with him at Murfreesboro, while Captain
Allen, Captain Bowles, and Adjutant Duke drew their attention in the
opposite direction, attacking them at all hours of the day and night. We
would capture an outpost, very often galloping in the midst of their
camp, thus causing the greatest surprise and consternation imaginable.
After presenting the compliments of “Morgan’s Men,” in the shape of a
few broadsides from our rifles, a sort of salute of respect and esteem,
we would doff our caps à la Morgan, and, without difficulty, make our
exit at a brisk canter. Their curiosity was not sufficient to make them
pursue us for an introduction, and they did not insist upon an
explanation for such intrusion.
When orders were received to fall back, the squadron, after a short
separation, was again united at Shelbyville. At Shelbyville I was
compelled, for the first time, to leave the ranks on account of illness.
My comrades urging me to do so, I went to a private house, to remain
there until the squadron should move to Huntsville, as previously
instructed. One of the boys escorted me to the residence of a Mr.
Desmukes, south of town a few miles, where I was treated “southernly,”
and with great kindness by all the family, and especially by the two
young lady daughters.
On the departure of the troops, some time afterward, a detachment was
sent for me. I had become so weak that when I rose to walk I staggered,
and would have fallen had not the arms of the young ladies intercepted
and rescued me. They then assisted the invalid to the gate, and also
assisted me to mount my “war steed,” Selim, who was to carry me a short
distance, to the pike, where an ambulance was in waiting to take me to
Fayettesville. Escorted by a small guard of troopers from our own
company, and accompanied by C. A. P., who arrived just in time to
superintend my transfer, we proceeded to Fayettesville.
From the time I was laid in the ambulance until my arrival in the
Huntsville hotel I was entirely unconscious, and ignorant of all that
passed, like one dreaming his last long dream. I have been told by C. A.
P. that I remained in Fayettesville several days, and was cared for
tenderly by the ladies, and especially by the landlady of the principal
hotel, where I stopped. I can’t remember. Nor have I the remotest idea
what occurred during my stay; neither have I the least knowledge of
being carried to the depot in a carriage, thence to Huntsville by rail,
where, on my arrival, I was conveyed to the hotel. I was carried in by
some of the boys, and on ascending the stairway they allowed one of my
feet to fall against the steps, which awoke me from my insensibility.
But I soon again relapsed into unconsciousness, and this time it lasted
for nearly two months.
During the two weeks that the squadron stayed I was nightly visited by
some of the boys, but I was not made aware of it until a long time
afterward. However strange it may appear, my best and dearest friends
were not recognized. I have only a very slight recollection of the
advent of the Yankees under Mitchell, on the 11th day of April, 1862.
The grand entree was made about 11 or 12 o’clock at night, and caused no
little excitement among the inhabitants, as well as among our men.
Just before Captain Morgan left Huntsville for Shiloh, he called to see
me. After standing some time by my bedside, and looking intently at me,
he remarked, “Sergeant, you will soon be well enough to be with us
again.” Then he shook my hand very affectionately, and, bidding me
farewell, went into the entry, where he said to the landlady, Mrs.
Georgia Nowell, that I would not live through the coming night, in which
opinion Mrs. Nowell acquiesced, as she told me afterward. And indeed,
she said for as much as two weeks no one expected that I would recover,
not even the kind doctor attending me.
But, after all, my time had not arrived. By the 22nd of May I was able
to sit up in bed, propped up by five or six pillows. It was on that day,
and while in that position, that Rube, a true and faithful black boy
whom C. A. P. had left to take care of me, rushed into my room,
adjoining Mrs. Nowell’s, saying that the Yankees were searching the
hotel.
Though I was still very feeble, I knew well what to do and say. I
requested Rube to leave the door, as it then was, a little open, and to
go about just as if he were one of the hotel waiters. Having escaped
detection so often before, and being in one of the rooms known as “the
family suite,” I thought it probable that I might escape again. But I am
now pretty sure that some one had reported me to the military, because
two Yankee officers came direct to my room, walked in without knocking,
and seated themselves near my bedside. Very soon they introduced, as
cause for their presence and intrusion, several inquiries, such as, “How
long have you been ill, sir?” or “What command do you belong to?” and
“When do you think you will be able to report to the provost marshal?”
I answered their questions by saying that I did not know when I would be
able to report, and they said, “But when do you think?” I said, “You see
my condition. When do _you_ think?” But neither of them could tell me.
These remarks and similar ones that passed made me quite angry, and I
said just what I thought and pleased. Besides, I did not like the style
of their entrance. Each had a pair of navy pistols, and each had his
sabre drawn, as if he expected to see the Devil, instead of a sick
Rebel. Then, leaving me for a moment, they returned with a parole, which
instructed me to report, when I was well enough, to the provost marshal,
and this I signed with a feeble hand. One of these officers was a
captain of the Third O. V. I. from Belmont County, the other was Sam
Piper, of Barnesville, his second lieutenant.
As soon as the Yankees were gone, Mrs. Nowell made her appearance,
weeping and lamenting. Both she and Rube were very much displeased with
the new programme. When the first of June came I was sufficiently strong
to venture to the provost marshal’s office to show myself to Lieutenant
Colonel Burke of the Tenth Ohio Volunteer Infantry, the provost marshal.
My skeleton-like appearance gained his sympathy, and all he requested
was for me to report myself daily at 9 o’clock A. M. This I did until
the 5th of August.
Then, on the 5th of August, I was started out, under a heavy guard, and
with three other officers of our army, for some Northern bastile.
All this time Mrs. Nowell was like a kind mother to me, and Rube was
attentive and obedient at all times. I placed him under Mrs. Nowell’s
care when I left. The inhabitants—for there was only one Union man,
Judge Lane, in the city—treated me with the greatest kindness and
attention, offering me everything that one could wish for. I was the
only Confederate prisoner on parole then, all the others having been
sent North, and during my evening walks crowds of beautiful girls and
young ladies would accompany me, much to the displeasure of the Yankees.
And I would return from my walks always ladened with the richest, rarest
flowers that ever grew in any clime.
This was, indeed, a reward that made a soldier’s heart swell with pride.
How it gladdens the heart to receive such marked attentions from the
hands of the beautiful and fair! Long and happily may the fair ones of
Huntsville live!
On my route to Louisville, Kentucky, I passed over the Tennessee and
Alabama Railroad to Nashville, thence over the Louisville and Nashville,
and in sight of home. Yet not a muscle betrayed itself, nor was there a
sigh to show that the “Rebel” had any desire to see loved ones. However,
he felt it deeply; but a proud spirit, still unconquered, scorned the
idea that his guard be permitted the gratification of knowing that he
suffered.
On arriving in Louisville I was exhibited to a staring populace as one
of “Morgan’s men,” and this knowledge caused them to show me a rope with
a hangman’s knot in it. This, they said, was for my special benefit. If
I had enlisted in this war to be frightened by scare-crows I might have
been frightened, but as I did not, the amusement was entirely at their
expense. But do not think that all the people in the city were of this
mind. Assuredly not. I saw many bright eyes beaming, many fair faces
smiling on the old gray, and I saw many snowy handkerchiefs slyly
flirted at the risk of prison walls, and—in spite of them!
I was now entered, not “professionally,” however, in that horrid prison,
the Old Medical College, and was confined there about one week. I was
then transferred, with, perhaps, one hundred other prisoners of war (one
of them Dr. Hobson, afterward our brigade chaplain), to Camp Chase,
Ohio, by way of Indianapolis, when one-half of our party was sent to
Camp Norton, Dr. Hobson included. We remained in Camp Chase nearly two
weeks, where I wrote you, if you remember; then, on the 26th of August
we started for exchange, by way of Cincinnati to Cairo. At Cairo the
prisoners embarked on a fleet of eight or ten transports that was to
carry them down the Mississippi River. We were escorted by two ironsides
and a heavy guard, all of which was quite unnecessary, for we were most
anxious to get to Dixie, and for her “to live and die.”
Before reaching that place of “world-wide fame,” Vicksburg, many of the
boys died, and a large number, myself among them, became sick, an
illness caused by the crowded boat, the inferior rations, and drinking
the river water. When we reached Vicksburg we received a hearty
reception from our troops and from the inhabitants. It was even then a
place of interest, for before the war it possessed much that was
attractive; but since it has become notorious for its heroic defense,
before which Grant’s heroic columns melted like snow, it is singularly
interesting. Well, transportation to Jackson, Mississippi, was
immediately furnished us, and when we arrived there we were ordered by
General Lloyd Tilghman, commander of the post, into a camp of
instruction until further orders.
I met here my old friend of civil engineer notoriety, John W. Hayden,
belonging now to the Confederate Engineering Corps, with the rank of
colonel. He and the General urged and insisted that I should receive, or
rather accept an appointment in the same corps. Colonel Hayden said that
he was very much surprised to find me in the cavalry service, and more
surprised that I had been following the daring and dashing horseman,
John Morgan, when men of my profession were needed to engage in the very
fascinating work of the Engineer Corps of the Confederates States. They
both pressed me to accept a position; but I loved my old Commander too
well, and the service in which he had enlisted too much, to think of
leaving him. So I could but decline respectfully; which I did. And yet I
believe I have since almost regretted that I then rejected a post of
such advantage, for of advantage it certainly would have been in the
days to come.
After a short stay in Jackson, and on the arrival of General
Breckinridge’s forces from Baton Rouge, in which we were glad to find
the old Kentucky Infantry Brigade, we started under General Breckinridge
for Knoxville, Tennessee, by way of Mobile, Atlanta and Chattanooga. We
reached Knoxville about the first of October. We were then mounted, and,
under the immediate command of Lieut. Col. Bob Wood, of Mississippi, we
started for Kentucky to join General Bragg.
After two days’ march toward Cumberland Gap we met Bragg’s advance,
under General Kirby Smith, which caused a retrograde movement of the
forces under General Breckinridge. On our return to Knoxville, where I
met C. A. P., Col. St. Leger Grenville, Morgan’s Adjutant-General, and
Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman of the Third Kentucky Cavalry, now took
command of our detachment, by order of General Morgan, and we began our
march across the Cumberland Mountains to join our command, now a
brigade, at Black’s Shop. This position was eight miles in advance of
Murfreesboro, on the pike leading from that place to Lebanon, and on the
extreme right of our main army, under General Bragg, who had taken
position there, while the enemy, then under Rosecrans, were stationed at
Nashville.
We reached the command and reported to the General about the last of
October, after a very interesting march over a country possessing
romantic and picturesque scenery. All hearts were gladdened by the warm
and hearty reception we received from the boys. The General, accompanied
by his orderlies, came to our camp to see us just as soon as he heard of
our arrival. Never did a mother receive her foundlings more fondly than
did our glorious commander. Long shall we remember that meeting!
Knowing the fondness of the old squadron boys for each other, and for
himself, General Morgan now proposed that they should be consolidated
and organized into one select company, to act as scouts, subject to his
personal command and direction. A few days after, accordingly, an order
appeared to that effect.
All were highly pleased with this arrangement, and, as proof of it,
scarce one day elapsed before all had rallied at the scouts’ encampment.
The feasting was enjoyed for several days, and I imagine that the
neighboring barn-yards suffered a good deal. Of the A, B, and C boys,
some had been promoted, and others were promoted immediately upon our
arrival. Yet the majority of those whom the General wanted to advance
respectfully declined to accept appointments in “strange” companies, so
much were they attached to each other. Our term of enlistment had
expired, but no one mentioned it to the General, nor thought of quitting
so long as the object for which they enlisted had not been attained.
Neither did they re-enlist, but served faithfully to the bitter end.
With the exception of those promoted, there were only eighty of the
original members to be found after twelve months’ service, and there had
been nearly three hundred at first. War, death, and sickness had thinned
their numbers, so that now there were, upon terra firma, to answer to
roll call, scarcely one-third their original number. The others—the most
of them—had answered their last roll call, “the soldier’s last tattoo.”
It was oftentimes painful and sad to lose such brave and dear
companions, yet when I think of our misfortunes, as I often do, I almost
wish that I, too, were one of “the departed heroes.”
At the time of the formation of our company, called “Morgan’s Scouts,”
we were poorly mounted, our war steeds being old veterans that had seen
hard service, and, because of their indisposition, had been turned over
to the quartermaster’s department at Knoxville, from whom we drew them.
The members of the Scouts, as they knew General Morgan personally and
were quite frank with him, complained at every interview of their sorry
horses. The General’s reply always was, “You’ll have better ones in a
short time.” How he got those “better ones” will be related hereafter.
Meanwhile, the scouts began their exploits—exploits so much talked of by
the command, and so eagerly anticipated. Oftentimes, accompanied by the
General, on such occasions impersonating the character of a scout, and
to all appearances one of the company, we would dash out on exciting and
successful adventures, expeditions carried on in the vicinity of
Gallatin and Nashville, and also in the neighborhood of Lebanon and
Hartsville, where a brigade of Yankee infantry and a regiment of cavalry
were discovered quietly encamped on the north bank of the Cumberland,
and near the latter place. The cavalry was commanded by Colonel Moore,
and was supported by another brigade of the enemy, six miles distant in
the direction of Gallatin.
As soon as this discovery was made, the General put his wits to work to
“take them in out of the weather.” It was about the first of December,
1862, and on the morning of the 6th of December orders were received to
report to General Morgan’s headquarters immediately, an order we as soon
carried into effect.
[Illustration:
KELION FRANKLIN PEDDICORD
1888
FACING 50
]
Having received from the General our special instructions, we moved off
in the direction of Hartsville, to be followed, almost immediately, by
our brigade of cavalry, and also by the Old Kentucky Infantry Brigade,
commanded by General Roger B. Hanson, whose duty it was to hold
possession of Lebanon during our attack. The position of the places
closely resembled a Y: Nashville at the top and left, Hartsville at the
right top, Lebanon at the junction, and Murfreesboro at the bottom. So
you will easily see that Nashville, not forgetting Gallatin, is as near
to Lebanon as it is to Hartsville, and it would be quite easy for the
enemy to intercept our line of retreat. This General Hanson was to guard
against.
When the scouts passed through Lebanon, late in the evening, they were
met by many ladies, who, woman-like, had anticipated our movements, and
urged and implored us to capture the Yankees at Hartsville. And they
added, “Be sure to bring them through town so we can see them!” When you
learn that most of the boys had sweethearts there, for it is a glorious
old place in the estimation of most of our command, you will not wonder
that they promised a prisoner on their return.
As we left the town behind us the darkness fell, and our brigade, like a
messenger of death, crept silently, cautiously along, in spite of the
intense cold. Near midnight we approached the Cumberland. Our forces had
been divided into several detachments, preparatory to fording the river,
the scouts leading the advance of the center detachment, at whose head
rode General Morgan, and closely in the rear came the big guns,
excepting the two pieces called the “Bull Pups,” that had so long
accompanied the command on its raids and marches.
These “Bull Pups” had been left in charge of an officer commanding a
battalion of cavalry, with instructions to make a feint on the enemy
from the south bank of the river. He was to take the direct road to
Hartsville, and the one leading to the good ford, which happened to be
just opposite to the Yankees and within rifle range. The officer in
charge of the battalion was to get silently into position, without the
knowledge of the enemy, and when the first gray streaks of morning made
their appearance he was to attract the enemy’s attention by opening a
spirited cannonading from the now celebrated “Bull Pups.” “The first
gray streaks” was the signal, too, for the brigade to move into position
on the north bank of the river.
When the advance reached the river we found a couple of ferry-boats
which our friends had secreted for us. All the other detachments crossed
by fording, and they had, I afterward learned, a wretched cold bath.
Along with seven scouts I was the first to land. Just before shoving off
from the shore I received my instructions from the General in person. He
desired me to be both cautious and vigilant, so as not to alarm the
enemy, and we were to approach his encampment silently, and to watch his
actions until the General’s arrival with the main force.
Crossing quietly and safely, it was not long until we found the Yankee
outpost, a cavalry picket consisting of an officer and fifteen men,
posted not more than a quarter of a mile from their camp. The picket was
in an old carriage-house. One of the doors was standing open and there
was a fire near the entrance of the house, and between us and the door.
We were already within short range, and we could see the Yankees
distinctly as they stepped out to look up the road. It was so very cold,
so intensely cold, that they did not dream Morgan would come after them
on such a night. Had they not felt so confident surely they would not
have dismounted while on picket duty.
But there we sat, silent as the tomb, watching our prey, without even
the privilege of shaking our feet in the stirrups to keep them from
freezing. I never came so near freezing in my life. The rest of the
scouts and the detachment with the General arrived just before day.
When the General saw the pickets, which we pointed out to him, he said,
turning to the captain of the scouts, “Tom, do you see those pickets?”
The Captain answered promptly, “I do, distinctly.” Then the General
said, “Lead your scouts down there, and take them in, and if it can be
avoided do not fire a gun.”
A moment after the boys were on all sides of the picket, advancing from
all sides, and in less time than I can tell you, the Yankees were
captured, disarmed, placed under arrest, and sent to the rear. It was
done without a word, without a shot to make our presence known to the
enemy. The General said before this was done that it would be all he
would require of us. However, we escorted him to the camp, which was in
sight, and as we galloped into line one of the sentries, on camp duty,
more watchful than the outpost, fired his gun into the air, and almost
immediately a reply from the “Bull Pups” came across the river. This had
a pleasing effect in our favor, for, imagining the attack was from that
direction, the Yankee battery very soon opened upon them in dead
earnest. Meanwhile, each of our regiments had gained its position, and
the line of battle was formed, though the Yankees were running in every
direction, so complete was their surprise.
Believing, from our actions, we were about to charge them mounted, the
Yankees commenced forming three distinct hollow squares; and then again,
seeing our men dismount to fight, they formed into line parallel with
ours. By this time the battery we had with us was placed in position in
our line, and between the Seventh and Eighth Kentucky Cavalry. With the
General at the head of the scouts, and supporting the battery, two of
our pieces now opened fire on the Yankee battery, which was still
duelling with the “Bull Pups.” This discharge caused the Yankees to see
and realize their real position. They were surrounded completely. When
our big guns began firing they commanded a little more respect and
attention than the “Pups.” The Yankees quickly reversed their guns, and
the second shot hit one of our caissons, and there was an explosion. The
General, the artillery and the scouts were enveloped in such a dense
cloud of smoke and shells that every one, like myself, thought that he
was the only living one—the only one who had escaped instant death. But
on the disappearance of the smoke our surprise was great to find that no
one was hurt except the drivers and the horses attached to the caisson.
The escape of General Morgan seemed miraculous indeed.
Colonel Duke had led our line of battle into action, and now the entire
line entered the conflict. Rebel and Yankee were at it, hot and heavy,
still the General would not permit the scouts to advance, but held us
under fire of the artillery, in reserve, as he said. But before long our
time came.
When it came the two lines were frightfully near each other. The Yankee
cavalry regiment was on the rise before us when the General, calling the
attention of the scouts, said, “Boys, yonder are those horses I’ve been
promising you.” And he added, “Be very particular how you take them, for
you observe that each horse has an armed man upon him.” Then, giving
Captain Tom some instructions, he ordered us to advance, which we did at
a brisk canter. Already the Yankee lines, in many places broken, were
reeling and staggering like drunken men. We entered the lists just in
time to fire the ending broadside and receive an unconditional
surrender. We likewise received the horses the General had presented,
besides a great variety of “other things” that abound in Yankee camps.
The engagement had lasted only an hour and ten minutes.
The forces surrendered by Colonel Moore were the One Hundred and Fourth
Illinois Volunteer Infantry, One Hundred and Sixth and One Hundred and
Eighth Ohio Infantry, and the Second Indiana Cavalry, making a total of
two thousand three hundred prisoners. Sixty or seventy of the enemy were
killed, and twice that number wounded. Our loss was nearly fifty killed
and seventy or eighty wounded. Our captured horses were put in charge of
some of the scouts, and the rest of us were ordered to watch the
movements of the Yankee brigade that was in supporting distance of the
one just captured. Though this brigade had heard our cannonading, we had
struck so quickly and rapidly that they could not, at least did not,
come up in time.
After marching over a mile we met the enemy’s advance-guard, and the
main force was marching in line of battle a short distance in the rear
of his advance. We drove the advance back in confusion upon the main
column. Then a portion of our company held the ground, while the others
withdrew to the rear and went into ambush, there to wait the moment to
strike.
On this occasion, when hard pressed by the main line, we suddenly gave
way, as if we were demoralized, and this enticed the advance out to
pursue us. Then the boys in ambush opened fire on them so unexpectedly
that they retired in confusion. While this was being enacted the scouts
who first fell back selected another place of ambuscade. In this way,
after receiving the Yankees warmly once or twice, they learned caution,
and advanced slowly, being obliged to reform their lines often, which
detained them so much the longer.
When we arrived at the ford we found the prisoners, the horses and the
artillery, as well as the captured stores, all safe on the other side of
the river. The brigade with which we had been skirmishing took the same
position as the one captured had taken, and shelled the ford while we
were crossing. But they showed no inclination to come over themselves.
Had they done so we certainly would have had the pleasure of escorting
another Yankee brigade, under guard, to headquarters; for we found when
we gained the south bank that our forces had been arranged to give them
a warm reception.
By this victory the scouts had the good fortune to secure fine horses,
pistols, blankets, oil and rubber coats, and blankets, and many small
necessaries such as Uncle Sam’s shoulder-straps carry. And, added to
these things, there was a variety of sutler’s stores.
We got back to our encampment about midnight, cold, hungry, sleepy, and
very much fatigued. The next morning we were ordered to headquarters to
guard and protect the captured spoils. The prisoners, after being
relieved of the overcoats and surplus baggage, were turned over to
General Bragg to be disposed of. It was currently reported afterward
that Morgan drew them all up in line and gave this command, “One Hundred
and Fourth Illinois, came out of them overcoats!” and then followed a
similar command concerning pocketbooks, and knives, and so on, to each
regiment. It is true the overcoats were retained, but nothing else was.
The overcoats were dyed black and worn by our men afterward.
It was at this time that President Davis and Gen. Joseph E. Johnston
arrived in Murfreesboro, and were present to witness General Morgan’s
marriage ceremony, which took place very soon after. Until his marriage
our leader was but a colonel, commanding a brigade, and he received his
lady—Miss Mattie Ready, of Murfreesboro—and his promotion at the same
time, and received them both from the hands of the “wise and good,
gentlemanly and Christian” President, who gave the bride away to “Gen.
John H. Morgan,” upon whom he bestowed many compliments for efficient
and gallant service, as well as upon the command.
The Yankees, though they had fought desperately for an hour and ten
minutes, were sadly abused by the populace on their arrival in Nashville
after their exchange. Nightgowns, and even night-caps, were offered
them, for the people said their conduct was disgraceful. But let us give
honor to whom honor is due. They fought as well as any troops could
while they were engaged.
Immediately after the Hartsville engagement preparations were commenced
for the “Christmas Raid” through Kentucky. The division marched to
Alexandria, where the forces soon arrived, and organized into two
brigades, the first under the command of Col. Basil W. Duke, of the
Second Regiment, and the second under Colonel William C. Breckinridge,
of the Ninth Regiment.
This last appointment caused the resignation of Col. G. St. Leger
Grenville, General Morgan’s adjutant-general. The adjutant-general
opposed the appointment of Colonel Breckinridge for several just
reasons. It is true, Breckinridge was not the senior colonel, and the
appointment was made over the head of the senior officer. After Colonel
Grenville’s resignation had been accepted, General Bragg made him his
inspector-general of cavalry. He was afterward captured in Chicago while
attempting to effect the release of prisoners from Camp Douglas. For
this “crime” he was sentenced to death by a court martial held in
Cincinnati, but his sentence was afterward commuted by “our kind
President” to hard labor at Dry Tortugas for life. I feel very sorry for
the Colonel. He is as brave and gallant as the best.
The command left Alexandria on the morning of the 22nd of December,
1862, with the scouts in advance, a post of honor we retained during the
entire trip. I met at this town both Columbus and Carolus, to whom the
General had entrusted some special duty. We passed through New
Middleton, approaching the Cumberland opposite Carthage, and crossing
Kaney Fork in sight of Carthage, and the Cumberland at Hardee’s Ford,
about five miles above, a ford named in honor of a general by that name.
General Bragg’s army had used the same ford some time before, when en
route to Kentucky.
We went into camp on the north side of the river, the scouts doing
outpost duty all night, and the next evening we went into camp at
Tomkinsonville, Kentucky. The next evening at 9 o’clock the scouts
entered Glasgow. At the General’s request we halted a few miles from
town to feed, preparatory to a night’s march, when another detachment
took the advance, reaching Glasgow a little after dark.
It so happened that a Michigan cavalry regiment was marching through
town at the time our party entered, and a collision was the results,
then a skirmish, then—a stampede of all parties! Couriers flew to the
General, and from each one he received a different account as to the
numbers of the enemy; from one he learned that there was a brigade; from
another, a division. But by the courier who claimed to be “the most
reliable,” he learned that the town was _full of troops_!
The action of this detachment, on this occasion, did not please the
General, neither did it add any laurels to the troops engaged, nor did
the scouts regret it as they ought to have done, simply because, when
the detachment passed us, they laughed at the boys, and called out that
they “had played out.” But they did not know for what purpose they had
been halted by the General, else they would not have rejoiced. Yet, when
they returned so quickly, and almost hors-de-combat, the scouts could
not help reminding them of their boastful remarks.
One of the General’s aides brought us orders to move on Glasgow
immediately, so as to ascertain what the difficulty was, and the
whereabouts and number of the enemy, and report on the matter. On
reaching Glasgow without adventure the company was dismounted to fight
near the outskirts of the town, and we marched into the town in battle
line, under the supposition that the enemy was still there. I had
command, while Captain Quirk went in advance, as a lookout.
Just as we entered the city square several pistol shots, fired in rapid
succession, were heard, and we, thinking the “Model Tom” was in danger,
advanced to the rescue. But before we could reach him he had captured
two Yankee cavalrymen, belonging to the force that had passed through
the town, and known as “stragglers.” Finding “all quiet along the
Potomac” a courier was dispatched to the General. We had received orders
some time before to advance by the upper pike and strike the Yankee line
of communication, the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, north of Green
River bridge. The others were to proceed on the same line south of the
bridge, and north of the Cave City. I was a member of the latter party.
Leaving the sleeping inhabitants of Glasgow guarded by Morpheus and
Morgan, we marched silently through the city. The brigades arrived a
little later, and we went into camp for the rest of the night.
This was “the night before Christmas,” and during our march that night
“Tom” and I stopped at several parties long enough to enjoy a dance with
some of the girls, very much to their surprise—and gratification, they
said. They had not the remotest idea that Morgan was near. But we danced
our set, though the whole country was alive with the enemy, and the
object for which we had been sent was handsomely accomplished.
Then taking a road leading from the lower pike to the upper, near the
Bear Wallow, we reached it before the other party of scouts came up, we
having gone two sides of the “angle” and they but one. This delay was
caused by the collision which they had, during the night, with the
forces marching through Glasgow, as I have already related. Soon after
we reached the pike and placed our pickets out, the other portion of
scouts came up and related their midnight adventures with the Michigan
cavalry. Then our entire force was reformed, and we began our march
forward.
Before we had proceeded far a courier from the General, then several
miles in our rear, reached us, with orders for us to return with the
information we had gained; also orders for the scouts that had
intercepted us to go forward at a double-quick, if they had not yet
accomplished the object for which they had been sent. As they had not
accomplished it, the Captain again detached them and sent them forward.
When about a mile in advance of us they ran into a picket of the Fifth
Indiana Cavalry, and one of them was sent back to inform Tom. His
response was decisive and to the point. It was a command, “Attention,
scouts! Double quick! Forward!” The scouts answered by clapping spurs to
their horses, and were off like a shot, flying up the pike at a
break-neck pace. Coming up with the rest of the company just after they
had captured several pickets, and ordering them to fall in our rear, on
we went to the charge, for the enemy was in sight, straight ahead, and
in line of battle.
It seemed almost a suicidal act for fifty men to charge a regiment of
five hundred men, yet the scouts charged and engaged them right
gallantly. But there were, at the time, four companies placed in ambush,
two on each side of the pike, and within rifle range. We did not observe
this, and forming our line parallel to the line opposing, we commenced
firing, hotly and rapidly. The force in ambush then advanced, attacking
us in the flank, much to our surprise and discomfiture. As soon as our
position was discovered a counter-march was ordered, and we withdrew out
of this trap, for it was nothing more. Reforming our line, the command
was given, “Right wheel, double-quick! Forward, march!” and on we flew.
Meanwhile, the Yanks had become excited. The line in front had stood
fast, while the right and left flank, in trying to surround us, had
advanced to the pike, a hundred yards in advance of the line, which had
remained stationary. This being their condition at the time we charged
them, right into their midst, yelling like Comanches, we routed them,
and we stampeded and demoralized the first, or main line, by literally
running over them. Turning short left, off of the pike in the direction
of Woodsonville, near Green River Bridge, we pursued them, capturing,
killing and wounding some fifteen or more, and getting spoils of all
kinds. We pursued them about three miles, and returned to the pike in
time to meet the General and take the advance.
In this encounter several scouts were wounded, though the wounds were
not severe enough to entice them from their saddles. Captain Tom
received two shots in the back of his head, but he would not permit the
wounds to be dressed by a surgeon, though the General requested it. Upon
receiving the praise and smiles of our commander for the gallantry
displayed in the skirmish, and turning our prisoners over to the provost
marshal, we went rapidly to the advance, and reached Green River at
sun-down.
Crossing the river we proceeded up the pike about six miles, then turned
off “short left.” It was dark and cloudy, and therefore a disagreeable
march over a country road to Hammondsville, a distance of eight miles,
where we went into camp until the main body came up. When General Morgan
arrived the company was divided into several detachments, and sent in as
many directions to hunt the enemy. No trooper could have envied us that
pleasure, for it was now midnight, very dark, and raining hard. But
knowing that “faint heart ne’er wins,” we struck boldly out to make the
necessary discoveries. When daylight returned it found all the scouts at
headquarters, making their reports to the satisfaction of the General.
In the morning, as soon as we had fed, we took the advance in the
direction of the railroad, near Upton’s. Just as we got in sight of the
railroad we saw on our left and front some twenty or thirty Yankee
infantrymen acting, apparently, as a railroad guard. At the time we
discovered them we were marching in a lane. Putting our horses at the
fence, those that did not go over rode it down, and we all passed over
the field at a sweeping pace, charging the Yanks, who surrendered
without firing a shot, though we gave them a round at short range. A
small force, garrisoned at Upton’s Station, was also captured soon
afterward.
“Lightning,” our telegraph operator, tapped the wire, and his office
opened in a few minutes. Lieut.-Col. Hutchison, of the Second, with a
detachment, compelled the surrender of the force in the stockade at
Bacon Creek bridge, the first station south of Upton’s, then burnt the
bridge. This made the third time our command had destroyed that bridge.
We were ordered to “Nolinn” bridge to find the position of the stockade
and the force that garrisoned it. Approaching quite near without their
knowledge, we were about to open fire when an officer, with an escort,
and bearing a flag of truce from the General, rode past us, to “demand
an immediate and unconditional surrender.” The officer in command agreed
if we could show him three pieces of artillery. When he rode out to see
the three pieces he saw six instead, and he submitted without a word. We
proceeded then to burn the bridge and the stockade.
As soon as this had been accomplished we moved on Elizabethtown, found
the outpost just at dawn, and went into camp. The General then ordered
the scouts from the advance, and instructed them to remain inside of the
lines during the night. This he did to insure them some relief, since
they had been on the outpost for several days and nights in succession,
without sleep or rest.
We fared sumptuously that night on the many delicacies we had captured
the day previous from the sutlers’ wagons, things intended for the
Christmas holidays. These luxuries fell into unexpected hands, yet they
were none the less appreciated by us for being unexpected. Possibly we
enjoyed them all the more.
Early the next morning we scouts went to the front, and relieved the
troops acting as advance. Within two or three miles we met Federal
pickets, and had a skirmish with them, driving them back to within a
mile of town. A Yankee captain, under a flag of truce, met us. He
carried a message to the General, demanding unconditional and immediate
surrender of the forces; further, the message said that we were
surrounded by an overwhelming force, and that escape was impossible. We
detained the Yankee captain while the message was forwarded to the
General by one of the scouts.
When the scout returned he carried, for reply to the Yanks, the same
message, except that the General’s signature was attached. For the
General, believing that the enemy were trying to gain time, demanded the
same thing of them that they had demanded of us—unconditional surrender
within fifteen minutes; and if this demand was not acceded to, they were
ordered to move the non-combatants out of town. Not receiving a response
within the given time we had orders to advance, and we executed them
with a will, driving the Yankee outposts back upon their main line with
confusion. We then received instructions to make our way around the town
and cut off their retreat. This we did, destroying the Louisville and
Nashville Railroad for over two miles, and capturing fifteen or twenty
infantrymen who were guarding the road. The brigade encamped in and near
the town that night.
The next day we moved against the forces guarding the trestle at
Muldrough’s Hill, composed of two regiments. The one just captured at
Elizabethtown was a very large regiment, about eight hundred strong. As
there were two trestle works, both were attacked at the same time, and
after a pretty warm fight of an hour’s duration they surrendered
unconditionally, after which all their effects, stores of all kinds,
stockades and trestles were burned to the ground. The prisoners were
paroled before dark.
Regaining the pike we marched to the Rolling Fork River, and all,
excepting the scouts, bivouacked on the south side. We crossed the river
and went on outpost duty, keeping a vigilant watch all night. Early the
next morning all of the command crossed to the north side, save one
regiment, the Eighth, which was attacked by a large force of Yankees who
had come up during the night.
Colonel Duke, being still on the south side, superintending the crossing
of the troops, took command of this regiment, and led them in person
against the enemy. Our men charged the Yankees furiously and
desperately, hurling them back with great confusion, and almost
capturing their battery, which had been throwing shells into the ford
and into our camp beyond. One shell alone killed No. Three and the four
horses he was holding. The artillery would certainly have been captured
had not Colonel Duke fallen, severely wounded by a piece of shell, and
been carried off the field unconscious. He was removed by Captain Tom,
who, with a detachment, had been sent for him. The Eighth was withdrawn,
and crossed without any further interference on the part of the Yankees,
who seemed not inclined to renew the engagement.
When the entire command had succeeded in crossing, and during the
advance on the little town of Boston, a town on the Lebanon Branch
Railroad about ten miles from Bardstown, we were deployed on both flanks
as skirmishers until we drew near Boston, then were ordered to Rolling
Fork, to notice the movement of the enemy; for they were in line on the
opposite bank of the river, and showed no inclination to come over.
Remaining some time within short rifle range and within speaking
distance, we finally returned to the advance and reported the situation
to the General. When we entered Bardstown we captured the small garrison
stationed there, besides a large and valuable amount of army stores. We
remained all night, snugly and safely housed, and supplied by the
citizens with everything necessary to the comfort and happiness of a
soldier.
Early next morning we started in the direction of Lebanon, by way of the
Springfield pike, and reached Springfield very late in the evening. It
was cold, and there was a storm of driving rain and sleet. Then
commenced a night’s march long to be remembered by us for its severity
and the suffering it caused. Finding that the enemy had concentrated a
large force in Lebanon and fortified it strongly for the express purpose
of intercepting our march, the General thought too much of his boys, and
perhaps estimated his captured stores too highly, to think of moving
against vastly superior numbers, and those numbers equipped with a large
amount of ordnance, all strongly entrenched and fortified. “Most
assuredly not,” said our General. He did not for one moment intend to
advance on their front, as they thought he would do.
No, the programme for the night was quite differently arranged,
doubtless to their surprise and disappointment. We fed our stock in and
around Springfield, and were on the road a little after dark, headed
toward Lebanon. We had decided to pass around Lebanon by taking a side
road that passed within two miles of that city, and intersected with the
pike on Muldrough’s Hill, a few miles south of town. When within four
miles of Lebanon our forces bore off on the side road in silence, with
part of the scouts in advance, while the others were ordered by the
General to make a feint upon the enemy by an attack in front. This was
done in gallant style, and the pickets were driven back into town in
great disorder; we even charged almost into their main line, then
stationed behind breastworks.
Before we left them I imagine they were deeply impressed with the idea
that Morgan was advancing on the town in force, instead of marching
around it, as he was in reality. The farce was handsomely executed. A
few men kept them under arms, and frightened them so that it is not
supposed that a man was put on extra duty for sleeping on his post
_that_ night. And when daylight appeared we disappeared, and soon after
rejoined our command, then six miles south of Lebanon, en route to
Campbellsville. After we had reported to the General he sent us to the
advance to join the rest of the scouts.
Our accomplished operator, “Lightning”—Captain Ellsworth—was sent with
us to tap the telegraph line a short distance ahead. In due time
“Lightning” opened his office; that is, one of the boys climbed a
telegraph pole and separated a wire, and “Lightning” attached his
battery to it.
It was truly amusing to hear the “operator” repeating the dispatches as
they went flying through his office. The operator at Danville, for
instance, informs Campbellsville that the picket has just been run in by
“Morgan,” and that he has his traps fixed to leave at a minute’s
warning. Stanford says, “Morgan is approaching with three thousand
cavalry and several pieces of artillery. Send reinforcements.”
Campbellsville wires to Danville, “Morgan is now before Lebanon, engaged
in a hot skirmish”; and tells Stanford, at the same time, “All the
troops able for duty have gone from Columbia stockade at Green River
Bridge.” To Lebanon, Campbellsville says, “Save a few companies to
protect the hospital and the army stores.”
From the many conflicting dispatches one might have thought there were
fifty Morgans, each Morgan with a force before each town, in ten
counties square! In reality, the boys seemed nonplussed, they were
reported in so many places at the same time, and doing so many different
things. They even doubted their own identity. To satisfy themselves, and
to prove that they were not mistaken as to their whereabouts, some of
them were found pinching themselves to discover whether they were
members of Morgan’s Cavalry or not.
Having obtained all the news afloat we mounted and double-quicked into
Campbellsville, reaching there a little before sunset, and capturing two
or three companies of infantry, three hundred invalids in the hospital,
whom we paroled, and also capturing a large amount of commissary and
quartermaster stores, and, I might add, a few dry-goods stores, all of
which, when the General arrived, were in charge of the scouts.
Meanwhile, our horses had been housed in the hotel and livery stables,
and had everything they liked, and plenty of it, before them. The boys,
likewise, feasted on the captured stores and the luxuries so bountifully
provided by the ladies. “Lightning” was in his office the principal part
of the night, being located on a conspicuous woodpile in the center of
the street. Early the next morning we were on our way to Columbia, which
place we reached about 4 o’clock in the evening, and there we stayed
till dark, feeding our horses, as well as ourselves, resting, and
shopping at the several dry-goods stores. We did our shopping here
because we knew that it was our last chance for some time to come. And
here, too, two hospitals, containing about two hundred invalids, with a
few well Yankees, were captured and paroled.
At dark we mounted, and were soon on our way to Burksville, on the
Cumberland River. This was the last night of the year 1862. Many
incidents occurred to remind me of the fact, but they were so numerous
that I have not the patience to pen them. It was one of the severest
nights we had marched. Ten miles from Burksville we descended into a
pleasant valley, through which runs a beautiful creek. The creek was
frozen hard. There were many handsome farms and farmhouses along this
stream, and most of these were brilliantly lighted up when we passed
them, though it was past midnight. But when we remember the people were
sitting up to give the New Year a fitting reception, it was not strange.
We found as many as four houses in which the young people had collected
to “trip the light fantastic,” and neither the night nor the command
will ever be effaced from the memory of those same young people. For,
fortunately for the scouts, and unfortunately for those attending the
parties, “ladies not excepted,” the horses which had carried them to the
party carried many of the boys away. Such a temptation could not be
resisted by the scouts, especially as the horses were in such good
position for leading off.
Was it not almost a “blot” upon the characters of the bold cavaliers,
their leaving the young ladies to “foot it home” next morning? It may
have been, but as “our” now excellent President so often says, “Not if
we know ourselves, and we think we do.” I may mention, by way of
apology, perhaps, that the next day we would be in Tennessee, and hence
in our own lines, and such acts would not be permitted by the
Confederate States. Besides that, when we started on this raid thirteen
of our company had been left behind because they were not mounted, and
they had our promises that we would bring each a “charger.”
Very many were the complaints made to the General, when he passed half
an hour later, concerning the horses. He told the ladies, who insisted
that their horses must have been taken by some of his men, that if his
scouts had really taken their fine riding-horses he would have every one
of the men shot without the benefit of a court-martial. It seemed as if
many of the ladies believed the General was in earnest, for they, the
tenderhearted, afterward begged him to spare our lives, but please send
their riding-horses. This he promised to do, I have no doubt.
On the General’s reaching the town, about 4 o’clock in the morning, he
found us in quiet possession. We had taken it without a struggle at 3
o’clock, when we commenced to cross the river, on our way to Livingston,
Kentucky. Nothing of interest happened during the march. The excitement
of the raid was fast expiring, and the boys were nodding as they rode
along. Tired nature must have rest, and nature certainly had been
severely tested during the past two weeks.
Livingston was gained before dark, and, passing through the town, we
camped several miles on the road leading to Smithville, which town was
reached, without excitement, on the succeeding day. Remaining near the
town over night, the scouts received orders the following morning to
march to Liberty, a distance of fifteen miles, which place we reached on
the 7th of January, and we remained there, on outpost duty, until April.
During this period, from January 7th to the first of April, we had, for
the better part of the time, no support nearer than McMinnville, thirty
miles distant, where the General had his headquarters, with a part of
his command camped near him, the most of it being stationed at Woodbury
and Readyville, and on the enemy’s left flank. For the enemy was in
possession of Murfreesboro, and “Old Rosey” was in command there. Our
company was on his left, and something like twenty miles from
Murfreesboro. General Bragg’s forces were in Tullahoma.
The stirring incidents, daring scouts, hot skirmishes, and spirited
engagements in which we took part during the winter cannot be related,
as I would desire, on account of space. But I will mention a few.
Seldom, if ever, were we idle while our camp was in Liberty. The field
which the General had intrusted to our surveillance was so extensive as
to keep us almost constantly in the saddle. We watched the movements of
the enemy night and day, and we skirmished with him daily, sometimes
near Murfreesboro, or near Lavergne, Nashville, and in the vicinity of
Gallatin, Huntsville, Carthage, and Lebanon. This was a mammoth
undertaking for one company, yet we succeeded in gaining the approbation
of our General.
By our vigilance, our daring scouts and rapid movements, we kept the
General thoroughly posted as to the whereabouts of the enemy. Very often
the report would reach him, “The scouts are cut off!” but he would
always reply, “They will cut on again!” Such a thing had so often
happened without our failing to report, or without in any way causing us
to be detained, that he had no fears as to our success, and our safe
return at the proper time, together with all the necessary intelligence.
It did not matter how severe the struggle, how long it lasted, or how
desperately it was contested, it was called then, and it will be called
in the written history of the great struggle, “only a skirmish.” Yet in
no part of the service is daring gallantry and real pluck better
illustrated than in these hand-to-hand encounters. There is in them a
greater display of courage than there is in a general engagement.
Besides all this, it is a deplorable fact that the number of brave
comrades killed in “only a skirmish” is not few. Indeed, there are often
enough killed to startle those who have had no experience in the “art of
killing.” This fact is not to be effaced or forgotten when considering
these so-called “skirmishes.”
Well, now for some of the incidents of those months, incidents which may
not be related in their proper order, but which are true.
“Once upon a time” General Morgan, with a small escort, reached Liberty,
and, taking a part of the scouts who wore _blue_ overcoats, started in
the direction of the City of Rocks. Many were the surmises of the boys
as to the General’s intentions, but most of them came to the conclusion
that they were to pay Nashville a visit in person. But it was all
surmise, for he alone knew the purpose. When we came to the river we saw
a Yankee scout on the opposite bank, within hailing.
In his quick way the General demanded, “Whose command is that?” They
replied, “Morgan’s scouts from Nashville. What command is that?” The
General replied, in a real New England tone, “Ninth Kentucky Cavalry
from Murfreesboro,” and added, “Have you any late papers?” When the
Yankee officer, whose name was Morgan, replied that he had, the General
remarked that he would send some of his men over for them. As the Stone
River was very high, we crossed in a ferry-boat, some half a dozen of
us, in charge of “Captain Tom.” When we gained the opposite bank we rode
carelessly up the slope, filed right and left, and enclosed the captain
and six of his men before they suspected or had time to say us nay. Of
course the late papers were soon in our hands.
There was one man a little distance off whom we could not encircle, and
on seeing our action he took wing to flee away, but he was not quicker
than one of our scouts who pursued him. It was a hot but short chase,
for the scout’s second shot from his six-shooter unhorsed him. He proved
to be an Indian, having long black hair. His steed he rode like “a thing
of life.”
The scout that shot him, and who was warmly praised for his gallant
conduct, while disarming him of certain unnecessary articles, espied,
unpleasantly near, a line of battle. This line had been formed and left
there by the captured officer, who had gone to the ford to make some
observations. On reporting this information to the General he ordered us
to cross back, with our prisoners. As the ferry-boat could not carry
all, three of the boys swam it on their horses. This collision with the
enemy probably foiled the plans of the General, for he countermarched,
and, after scouting some, returned to camp.
On another occasion, when our company was scouting in the direction of
Lebanon, on arriving at the “twelve-mile post” from that place,
intelligence reached us that the enemy was in force in the little
village of Statesville, which was on our short left, six miles distant.
Being on the lookout for specimens of that description, it was soon
determined that we would go and see for ourselves. It was a well-known
fact that scouts never reported “what others had seen,” but what they
themselves had actually seen “with their own eyes.” Therefore, we filed
off on the road leading to Statesville, advancing at a double-quick
pace. The enemy’s rear-guard was in sight when we reached the town, but
was marching in the direction of Auburn.
Several Rebels who had been badly wounded by the Yankees, were in town,
and the female inhabitants were in a high state of excitement, many
women running out into the street to intercept our march, and begging
and imploring us not to advance farther with such a band, telling us the
enemy’s force was very large, and included infantry, cavalry, and
artillery. However, very little heed was paid to their story, but with
“fire-lit” eyes, color in the cheeks, and a terrific yell, such as only
Rebels could give, we charged at a pace by no means slow, irrespective
of numbers, driving the rear upon the first regiment hurriedly and
confusedly. The rear regiment was compelled to face about and form line
to the rear in support of its guard.
This was the principal object for which we charged, to cause them to
show “an inferior force” their entire number. Before we left them we had
the satisfaction of seeing the number of regiments of infantry, cavalry,
and pieces of artillery, all of which took position to the rear in
anticipation of a general attack. Our purpose attained, with a parting
salute into their main line we disappeared on a left-hand road leading
to Alexandria and back to the pike we so recently had left. We galloped
away much to their surprise and mortification.
It was five miles to Alexandria, seven to Liberty, making twelve miles
in all, and the enemy when we left was within eight miles of either
Liberty or Auburn on a road that struck the pike from Liberty to
Murfreesboro at right angles and half way between the places, and this
was the reason for our haste to report to camp near Liberty, where most
of the brigade had arrived the previous day.
When two miles from Liberty we met General Morgan and staff, who had
just come from McMinnville. His first question was:
“Boys, where are the Yanks?”
It was a surprise to him to receive for reply:
“General, four thousand, composed of infantry, cavalry and artillery,
commanded by General Hall, passed through Statesville scarce an hour and
a half ago on the road intersecting with this pike three miles distant.”
Thanking us for such prompt intelligence, he dismissed us with
instructions to go to our quarters in town and report to him at
daylight.
Armed cap-a-pie, not sooner did the first gray streaks of morning appear
in the east than the company were “fronted into line” at the General’s
headquarters, for duty. On receiving his instructions—ever brief and
pointed—we moved off rapidly in the direction of Auburn to execute the
orders, “Find the enemy, attack and hold him in check until you are
relieved by the brigade which will soon follow you.” This done, nothing
more would be required of us during the day.
Down the pike we flew at a frightful rate, and soon came in sight of
Auburn and, a little farther on, the smoke of the enemy’s camp-fires.
Yet, without reining our horses, we passed through the town, up the
pike, and into a dense cloud of smoke rising from the deserted
camp-fires. But, lo! the birds had early flown in the direction of
Murfreesboro. Again that oft-repeated command, “Double quick; forward,
march!”
Rowels were used eagerly, and our chargers, with nostrils distended,
answered with increased speed. Arriving at farmhouses on the way we were
told that the enemy was only a short distance ahead, and that the
officers were hurrying their men forward by reminding them that “Morgan
will get you,” etc.
With videttes in the van we overtook them at Milton, ten miles from
Murfreesboro. They discovered us almost as soon as we espied them,
informing us “gently” of the fact, with a round of grape and canister
shot, and thereby wounding one of the vidette’s horses severely. The
second shot exploded but a short distance above my head, while I was
leading the company, “Captain Tom” being with the videttes.
We pressed steadily on, however, until the advance opened on the cavalry
guarding the rear. Then right-obliquing and forwarding into line,
leaving our horses in charge of No. Three, we dismounted to fight,
deploying as we advanced. The enemy’s main force could be seen
distinctly just beyond the edge of the town, the rear-guard holding
possession of the village. On consolidating with the fire of the advance
the cavalry guarding the enemy’s rear gave way; but soon after a squad
of “Web-Foots” was seen hurrying up the pike to the post which the
cavalry had deserted.
The boys made the discovery quickly, warning each other with, “Look out,
boys; here come the Webs!”
We had already gained a position in an open field, protected by a large
fence on our left and front, and as the infantry advanced in fours up
the pike we opened so hot a fire upon them that they retreated also. At
the same time their main force was in an open field, with a regiment on
each flank, field and staff in the center, forming one of the grandest
“hollow squares” that we ever saw. Their ordnance was stationed on the
pike, well supported. It was a magnificent sight and admirably executed.
They doubtless believed that we were about to charge them, but we had no
such intention.
One of the General’s aids, Captain Williams, of South Carolina, informed
us the command was near. Until they reached us we were under a terrific
fire of shot and shell, with no alternative save to hold our position
until relieved. It was a glad sight to us to see the Third Kentucky
Cavalry take post immediately on our left and rear, followed closely by
the Second, which formed on our right, and the Tenth, which took place
on our extreme left. We knew by this that the General’s eye was upon us,
and our anxieties were over.
The column advanced, and we were relieved with liberty to act as we
pleased. Well, we pleased to go around the enemy and strike him between
that place and Murfreesboro, which we did successfully, capturing
seventeen flying cavalrymen, the Yankee general’s horse fully equipped,
exterminating a member of the “Freedmen’s Bureau” who was found in arms
against his friends and country, and then pursued a detachment of
cavalry with a few miles of their main encampment, which perhaps had
been sent for reinforcement.
On returning to the scene of action, the firing, which had been very
severe, had ceased and we were in some doubt as to how the battle had
terminated. But while passing near the enemy he took the liberty of
throwing a few shells, without injury to any one, which was good
evidence that he was in defiance still. On finding and reporting to the
General, he was exceedingly angry; and well might he be—the ammunition
had been exhausted, many of his “bravest and best” had fallen, and the
enemy was still unconquered.
Our lines went forward with great spirit and gallantry to their rear,
but unfortunately we compelled the Yankees to take refuge in one of the
best positions to be found anywhere. This was on a hill in shape
resembling a pyramid, in the center of a valley, not connected with the
neighboring range, thickly wooded and naturally fortified with immense
rocks, which afforded ample protection to the enemy. We found it
impossible to dislodge him from this position, although our troops
fought desperately.
The General justly complained that there was not concert of action, and
seemed determined to take them, ammunition or not. But ere the assault
began the Yankees were heard loudly cheering, and we knew reinforcements
had arrived.
Quickly turning to the boys, the General told them to halloa manfully,
and such yells filled the air as were never heard before, I am sure. He
then dispatched an aide to the officer commanding his artillery, with
instructions to silence the Yankee battery.
In the short space of half an hour nine men were killed and fifteen
wounded—surely a great sacrifice of lives just to silence a battery. But
they hushed the Yankee and compelled him to “limber up.” This was the
conclusion of the battle of Milton.
With sad and depressed hearts we sullenly withdrew and began our march
to camp. Foiled, but not whipped, we always remembered it as a blank
page in our book of successes. Although the enemy received heavy
reinforcements, he had not the impudence or pluck to follow us. Our
encampment was reached late, and we all went to sleep without being
rocked.
To mention all of our actions would be to write a voluminous history.
Such a purpose I have not the mind nor the time to undertake, and if I
had you would not, I fear, have sufficient patience to follow my
meanderings. I will only “touch and go.”
At one time, being advised by a scout that the garrison stationed at
Carthage had crossed a large foraging party to the south bank of the
Cumberland, we quickly mounted and started in that direction. The
outpost which had been pushed forward in case of a surprise was soon
discovered on a distant hilltop. A halt was ordered, preparatory to
making a charge on horse. This was contrary to our usual custom, as we
generally dismounted to fight. It was plainly seen that the enemy
outnumbered us, there being upward of thirty, while our number was
scarce twenty-five. But in imagination we were much more.
Dismounting to tighten our saddle girths, buttoning up our “faded
grays,” and with everything closely rigged, we again mounted and
advanced at a brisk canter. We were not perceived until within gunshot.
We hoped to close on them before they could form, but although they
showed some confusion at our rapid advance, the commanding officer was
an old veteran, keeping his men well in hand and pretty steady, and much
to our surprise and without our consent gave the command to fire when we
were but ten yards distant. And yet the greatest wonder to all was that
none received a hurt. They were infantry, without a second shot unless
they reloaded, and it was not in our program to give them that
advantage, so they came to the position of “charge bayonets,” while we
reined our horses at a respectful distance beyond their reach. We
presented “navies” with the command “Surrender, and ground arms!” which
was instantly done, they perceiving our advantage over them.
Putting the prisoners under the protection of some of the company en
route to camp, we thought a further little venture might be interesting
as well as profitable. On descending into the valley leading into the
river we could see trains of wagons guarded by infantry scattered over
the various farms, gathering forage.
Seeing some half a dozen wagons on the nearest plantation with only a
small guard, we clapped spurs and went, helter skelter, right into their
midst, without saying so much as “By your leave, gentlemen.” Not a shot
was fired, so much were they surprised and frightened. Taking their guns
and putting the prisoners in the wagons with pistols unpleasantly near
to each driver’s head, we moved off at a pace that would rival an
express train, before the “Webs” had time to come to the rescue. We were
very certain they could not catch us; infantry never did. Liberty was
soon in view, and not long after we had the pleasure of turning our
spoils and prisoners over to the General.
At another time, while scouting in the vicinity of “old Rosey,” we
charged a large wagon-train out on a foraging expedition. They had a
guard much too numerous for us to capture, but we successfully ran
twenty of their wagons off in charge of their drivers, who were pressed
into service, and, though hotly pursued by a larger force, carried them
safely to camp.
After no little hot skirmishing, sometimes we could be found on the
banks of the Cumberland between Gallatin and Carthage attacking
gun-boats; at other times, chasing the enemy down by the Hermitage; then
at Murfreesboro fighting with Rosecrans’s outpost, or pursuing the
enemy’s cavalry and frequently being pursued ourselves by forces more
than our size. Very often we caused trains to lay over at way stations
by disconnecting the rails, and thus secured a variety of
“Shoulder-strapped gentry” in connection with other articles of value.
When the brigade accompanied us we had always the post of honor—the van.
Not few were the skirmishes on such occasions, for then we were a more
saucy and formidable band, knowing that our General was in supporting
distance. No slight barrier turned us back when the boys were all along.
During the winter’s campaign we twice gave up Liberty to the enemy so
that we could take position on Snow’s Hill, two and a half miles in our
rear, which nature had strongly fortified.
At the first engagement, after a severe contest, we repulsed and drove
them almost to their main lines in great disorder. The second ended not
so handsomely for us. By a flank movement, with superior numbers, they
compelled us to withdraw. But at neither engagement was the General or
Colonel Duke with us, and to this our failure may be laid.
We were commanded by Colonel Gano of the Third and Colonel Breckinridge
of the Ninth, and it was by them arranged that when the division under
General Stanley was advancing upon us that we were to fall steadily back
to Snow Hill and there give him fight. We were to act the part of
seeming to skirmish with him and, if possible, draw him into our
position. When that was accomplished we were to take post on our extreme
right and front and watch them to keep them from flanking us.
We perceived, however, that their intention was to flank our left, and
we hastened to our lines on top of the hill to report. Arriving
alongside of the battery, we dismounted and formed a line in advance of
our guns, all the time under a severe fire from the enemy’s artillery.
Meanwhile, one regiment after another was seen passing in the direction
of our left, we occupying the center. Very soon after the officer
guarding our left reported by a courier that the enemy was at his front,
the next courier said they were hard pressed, and the third courier from
the officer reported that he was compelled to give way before such odds,
and not until then was the Third Regiment sent to his support, followed
by the Fifth.
It was too late, however, to render the assistance needed or to regain
the position thus lost, though not too late to hold the enemy in check
until the withdrawal of our forces, which we had commenced to do. This
was our only alternative, for we were certainly outflanked.
The regiments withdrew in order, leaving us deployed as skirmishers, in
front of where our battery had been stationed, which was now on the way
to the rear, where we were soon ordered.
On reaching the road by which we were flanked the guns of the Third and
Fifth were opening sharply, and, not being under orders, “Tom” led us in
that direction for new adventures. In a few moments we were in it as
hotly as the rest, but to no effect. They had gained the position and it
was impossible to dislodge them.
Again, at all hazards, we were instructed to hold the rear, so that the
others could move off; but we did not tarry long however, though we
stayed long enough to have seven men badly wounded.
Retreating over a mile, we met Colonel Duke, who took command, to the
entire satisfaction of all, and formed his line of battle. This was done
to no purpose, however, for when the Yankees struck the main road they
took the Liberty end, expecting to capture at least a portion of the
command. In this they were mistaken, for we had withdrawn in time. They
went back to Liberty and encamped, while Duke kept the hill.
The scouts were sent out after dark to watch the enemy’s movements. We
had not proceeded far before we engaged a force which seemed to be equal
to us in number. We had a hot skirmish to drive them back. This force
was afterward discovered to be General Morgan and escort, who had just
arrived from McMinnville, and not knowing what had occurred, had struck
the road between us and the enemy. He laughed heartily the next morning
as we were pursuing the enemy through Liberty.
The enemy thought to hold his ground, but we made it so hot that to save
himself he was compelled to give way. However, a part of the rear-guard
was captured before they gained their lines. The enemy’s force consisted
of four brigades, two each of cavalry and infantry, with artillery
attached, while we could muster but one brigade and a limited amount of
artillery. Such a large force could not be handled successfully by us,
and all we could do was to work on their edges.
Before the winter was over this same force met the General and gained a
decided victory over him at McMinnville by driving “himself, wife and
staff, and one company of couriers” out of town, the brigade being
stationed at several different points some distance from his
headquarters. Even then he handled them so roughly that they pressed him
very timidly.
The General and Lieut.-Col. Martin of the Tenth Regiment were the last
to leave town. Passing down one street the Yankees tried hard to
intercept them; as it was, they met the head of the Yankee column, into
which they emptied two rounds from their pistols, unhorsing two of them.
At the same moment Colonel Martin was shot through and through, near the
center of his breast. However, he paid little attention to his wound,
for he joined his regiment that evening, ten miles distant.
With these and many more of such adventures the winter wore away, and
spring, “more sweet, more gay,” returned. The General’s brother, Maj. R.
C. Morgan, late of A. P. Hill’s staff, was ordered to take command of a
regiment under General Morgan, which was then forming, and which was
afterward called the Fourteenth Kentucky Cavalry. The scouts, by order
of the General, reported to the then Colonel, as our chief said “only
temporarily,” but we never left him until captured. Our letter in the
Fourteenth was B, and we were the Colonel’s pets. At the time we were
attached to the regiment it was encamped on Oby River, not far from the
State line, and about ten miles from the town of Burksville, Kentucky.
There were several new companies in our regiment whose officers knew
very little about military tactics. Company B, because of its long
experience, was styled “Veterans.” We were required by the Colonel to
drill these new companies, which was done daily for several weeks in
succession. The sergeants of Company B were oftentimes in command of the
battalion on drill; others drilled companies, our corporals commanded
platoons, and privates were in charge of sections, with their own
company officers in the ranks learning the arts of war, alongside of
their own men. I am pretty sure they will never forget the three drills
daily during our days of instruction. Company B certainly impressed them
with the belief that they were not only veterans, but men of energy and
of “long wind.” When they had received their education and their
“sheepskins” in proof our attention was called in other directions.
Scouting again became our duty, very often making short raids into
Kentucky, and patroling the Cumberland generally. I will give you only
one of our many expeditions, and that because you will probably take
more interest in it, a near relative of your family having been in
command.
A great many scouting parties had been detached to Albany so frequently
that it had become a disagreeable duty, the instructions given them
being nearly the same every time. When the time arrived for Company B to
go on duty it happened that the Albany scout was again the order of the
day. The instructions on reporting at headquarters were not only short,
but simple and easily understood. They were, “Proceed to Albany with
thirty men, and find out where the enemy is.”
Determined to do so, we filed out on the Albany road, but not before
Captain “Tom” remarked, “I hope that you will make the necessary
discoveries, for not until then will these long marches cease.”
Vowing that we would never return save with the intelligence required,
we galloped off. Crossing the Oby and Wolf rivers we commenced to ascend
the hills beyond, in the severest fall of rain that man ever witnessed,
which continued till dark, and when the detachment was within four miles
of Albany. The water ran down the sides of the mountain in torrents, and
it was with great difficulty that we ascended. Our horses could scarcely
keep their feet with such a fall of water against them.
Halting two miles from town and leaving all but three men and a guide to
await our return, we entered with caution the county-seat of Clinton
County. Not a light was visible to cheer the wanderers, and all was
still as death. The noise made by the clattering of our horses’ feet
sounded hollow and “passing strange.” It seemed as if we were hundreds
of feet below terra firma, passing through and exploring some
subterranean village. Well might it have been appropriately called “the
Deserted Village,” from its gloomy, desolate, and extremely sad
appearance.
After an interview with an old Southerner living near the town, who had
nothing reliable to communicate, and finding no enemy, we returned to
the place where the rest of the scouts had been left. Having previously
decided to send all of the men with the exception of six and the guide
to camp under the charge of a sergeant, we selected the best scouts and
horses.
Returning again to Albany, we took the Monticello road, with the full
and express determination to find the enemy if there was any on top of
the ground. When daylight appeared we had far advanced into Wayne
County, over which the notorious Yankee bushwhacker, “Tinker Dave
Beatty,” ruled with an iron will. Although the actions of some of the
inhabitants looked very suspicious, yet our little band advanced without
any interruption, but on the alert.
Crossing Poplar Mountain and passing into the valley, we halted to see a
friendly doctor; but not until our picket had been sent forward in case
of a surprise, for we suspected that the enemy was not far off. Calling
to see the doctor we found him absent, but his lady informed us that he
had gone to visit a patient near the “Yankee encampment,” and would soon
return. It was exciting to one’s nerves to hear that the enemy was so
near.
Mounting our horses we advanced scarce three miles, when we halted
opposite a widow’s house, whose son was in Wolford’s Yankee Kentucky
Cavalry. All of the surroundings intimated that the enemy was near, but
nothing save a sight of him would do us. Ordering two of the boys ahead
for “lookouts,” with the intention of soon following, we dismounted to
inspect the widow’s establishment to see if there was anything about
that had Uncle Sam on it, but discovered nothing worth carrying away. I
am, however, convinced of the fact that the widow sent a courier to camp
to apprise them of our whereabouts.
Just as we mounted there came the sharp report of a Minie, then another,
and still another in quick succession. We soon learned that there was
something in that direction that had “U. S.” upon it. As proof of that
fact, there came the videttes, flying like the wind, from whom I learned
that a large force of Yankee cavalry was hotly pursuing them. I quickly
instructed the guide and those with me to fall rapidly back to the gap
through which the road passes over Poplar Mountain, then gave them
orders to dismount and fight upon reaching there and if possible to hold
the gap, and I would join them in a short while.
The place selected was one that had been closely observed while passing
it, being a position possessing advantages closely resembling the Pass
of Thermopylae, so often quoted in history, and where a chosen few,
under Leonidas, defeated such multitudes. Do not let my comparisons
amuse you too much. I will confess they are sometimes used strangely and
no doubt inappropriately; yet there must be some likeness, you will
admit. Nor do I wish you to think the commander of this little band a
Leonidas, or the gap in the mountain Thermopylae. Most assuredly not;
but think you what it pleases, for it is time to end this topic.
Here come the Yankee cavalry, full tilt, the scouts being already out of
sight. But the “Black Horse,” which had so often proven himself true,
thereby gaining his rider’s entire confidence, stood firm, with his head
to the foe, violently champing his bit, eagerly and nervously watching
the approach of the then over-confident enemy, awaiting the word to go.
As they turned an angle in the road, less than one hundred yards
distant, we took the liberty of counting them. I counted seventeen, and
still they came; and as they came the cry was “Halt! Halt!”—a word with
no meaning in this case.
The “Black Horse” was still standing deathly still. The enemy opened the
firing about sixty yards off, to which one of Colt’s—English—best
replied twice in quick succession, and then the gallant “Black,” with
his rider’s permission, executed one of the most brilliant feats in
horse history. Rearing up and posing gracefully, he changed his front at
one leap, and quick as thought was in a dead run, followed by the Yanks,
firing and yelling, but to no purpose, for the “Black” had the heels on
them.
Dropping reins and turning half around in the saddle, several
well-directed shots were aimed back when occasion required it and
opportunity offered, and the shots seemed to carry some little influence
with them. We noticed that those leading the column were not so eager or
so particular to use their rowels too often, for fear of getting
disagreeably near.
When near the gap, where my men were lying in ambush, I reined up,
hoping to draw the enemy on; but the situation of the country looked so
suspicious that they held up also. Thinking they would pursue, I again
rode rapidly forward, passing through the gap without seeing a man, yet
knowing that they were there and on the alert.
But the suspicious foe could not be prevailed upon or enticed to follow
a single horseman through, imagining, doubtless, that there was a larger
force awaiting them in ambuscade. We remained there for some time, then
perceiving that it was not their intention to advance on us, and
apprehending a flank movement, we slowly withdrew on the road to Albany.
Two roads from beyond the gap led into town, and by using one of them we
could be intercepted. Knowing this, it was thought wise to leave town
over night, and strike the road a mile beyond, which we did with the
assistance of our guide.
On reaching Wolf River at midnight we found its banks overflowed, which
necessitated our swimming across with our horses. The same condition
existed at Oby, and we did not arrive at camp until a little after
daylight, when we at once reported all we knew to the Colonel, and then
went to our headquarters to rest, having been in our saddles nearly
fifty hours. Much to the delight of the scouts, this was the last foray
in the direction of Monticello.
Shortly after this occurrence the brigade had a very severe engagement
with the same forces at Greasy Creek, near Monticello; but we routed
them and drove them across the country so rapidly that quite a number
were drowned.
The General soon after this moved his command down to Carthage, crossing
the river above at Hardee’s Ford. He quietly advanced on the town, which
was garrisoned by a brigade, including infantry, cavalry, and artillery.
With his plans for attack almost in readiness, the General would have
issued orders for an assault had it not been for the instructions that
reached him from General Bragg, ordering him to make his last great
raid, which ended so unpleasantly.
I should have first related that the brigade, under the command of
Colonel Duke, before the fight at Greasy Creek, made a raid to
Alexandria and Lebanon, via Statesville and Beards’ Mills, with the
intention of cutting Minty’s cavalry brigade off from Murfreesboro,
forcing him to fight. But he would not stand, except to skirmish and
retreat. Company B continued the pursuit until within their lines. It
was afterward reported by a Yankee correspondent and published in the
_Louisville Journal_, that Minty’s cavalry had met and defeated John
Morgan near Lebanon, Tennessee, the article also telling of a “gallant
sabre charge” the Yankees had made, and what they did not cut into
pieces was run out of the country, etc. It was described in such glowing
terms that on paper it seemed most terrific. What a pity it was false!
All the charges made with their sabres on that day were not only few,
but “very far between” them and us, they using their spurs to make it
farther.
When General Morgan withdrew his forces from Carthage to go to the south
bank of the river he ordered each regiment to move by different roads in
the direction of Burksville, where the command was to be concentrated
preparatory to the “gallop” through Kentucky, Indiana and Ohio. The “gay
Fourteenth” marched via Liberty, McMinnville, Sparta, Cooksville, and
Livingston, reaching the encampment near the river opposite Burksville
on the last day of June, 1863.
As soon as all the preparations necessary to a long march were made,
such as issuing rations and ammunition, and providing for the “lame,
sick, and lazy,” the crossing of the Cumberland was begun on the evening
of the 30th of June. The first and second companies—A and B—of the
Fourteenth Kentucky succeeded in crossing, although the river could not
be contained within the limits of its banks; but it was by a difficult
swim. On gaining the north bank we were sent on an outpost that night.
It was not much unlike the crossing of the Delaware in the years gone
by, the difference being that “the Father of his Country” had to contend
against large masses of floating ice, with his enemy in the rear, while
the “horse thieves,” upon their horses, and armed and equipped for
fight, with the enemy in front, had to swim a boisterous river, covered
with large drifts of trees, a feat almost as difficult and far more
dangerous than crossing a river in boats, amid the ice.
On the evening of the second day of July our forces—twenty-two hundred
strong—had safely, with two exceptions, reached the bank north of the
river at three crossings near Burksville. The Fourteenth, meanwhile, had
all crossed, and gone to the front in the direction of Glasgow,
Kentucky.
You will notice that so far I have, intentionally, omitted to mention
the loss of men. Not that I do not remember, but because it would be a
sorrowful task, and a subject too sacredly sad for me to handle, since
many of them were my intimate friends and loved companions, and doubly
endeared to me on my finding them in the same line of battle with
myself.
Early in the morning of the second we were withdrawn from the Glasgow
road, and passed through Burksville on the road to Columbia, taking
charge of our front in that direction. As our column was passing through
town General Morgan detained about twenty members of Company B for
special duty. All of the members of the company were eager and anxious
to go with their General, but he only had use for the twenty. Soon after
the regiment left town, and the now “gay twenty,” with the General in
front, cantered out on the Glasgow road, on which the enemy had been
found in force a few miles from the river, with the object of making a
feint in our favor.
Our true line of march was via Columbia, but we wished to make a
diversion to impress the Yankees with the belief that our march was to
be via Glasgow. Going a few miles, we were met by a Yankee cavalry
regiment, who changed front to rear immediately upon the sight of our
scout, using their rowels with little mercy. Confusion and the twenty
scouts were soon among them, and what the former did not do, the pistols
of the latter accomplished.
The actions of one of the boys strangely and particularly impressed me.
A few days before the regiment that we were so hotly pressing had
captured and killed this scout’s brother. Learning this when pursuing,
he was one of the first among them, firing right and left, oftentimes
when his navy was against “his man,” five of whom felt the effects,
while the tears were streaming down his cheeks. I could not help
thinking, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.”
When the enemy realized the smallness of the force that was chasing
them, they halted in a strong position and showed fight; but our
General, who seemed more like our gallant Captain of old than he had for
some time, was too shrewd for them. Quickly detaching a single scout
around to their left flank secretly, with orders to fire his gun and
navies in rapid succession into their line, proved, much to our
amusement, to have the desired effect. Back they flew again, using their
rowels as vigorously as before. But we were soon in their rear, making
good use of time and pistols. Sabres were useless ornaments in our
service. The trooper that attempted to carry one would be forever after
a laughing stock for the entire command.
All of the twenty were ahead of the General, who was on his favorite
“Glencoe,” with hat in hand, cheering the boys with “Charge them, boys;
charge them!”—and right handsomely did they execute his orders.
Yet, on flew the Yankees, and after them went the twenty, in a dense
cloud of dust, never halting until we had chased the Yankee cavalry
through a brigade of their own infantry then in line of battle and
supported by artillery, which the immense cloud of dust prevented us
from seeing. We charged them so near that they were afraid of opening on
us for fear of doing injury to their own troops.
One of the boys, riding near the General, saw the line first, and caught
the reins of the General’s horse, stopping him instantly. At the same
moment a line of bristling bayonets were pointed out to the General. All
saw it, and quickly wheeling our horses, with spurs in flanks, went out
in true Indian style, lying flat on our horses, perhaps a little under.
When we had cleared the line so they could open fire, and not fire into
their own line, the whole line poured a volley at short range right into
us. But “fortune,” they say, “favors the brave.” Only one man received a
wound, Captain Tom of Company B, whose rein arm was broken, and who was
afterward, much to his regret, left at Burksville. With this exception
we got back to town safely.
At an early hour in the morning of the 3d, we were again in the saddle,
en route to Columbia, Col. R. C. Morgan’s regiment, the Fourteenth, in
advance. This honor the General entrusted to our charge to be kept
untarnished. How well the Fourteenth succeeded had best be told by
others than myself. My object is to tell you “some” of the events that
occurred.
The column passed up the same valley through which we marched the first
of the year on our return after the Christmas raid, when a large number
of horses disappeared, and the General promised the ladies that he would
hang and shoot every one of his scouts, without a court martial, etc.,
for such uncourtly, ungallant, and unsoldierly actions toward “good
Union people.” It afforded the members of Company B much sport as they
rode by these places of interest.
Gaining the upland, the command halted long enough for the regimental
commanders to read “special orders,” which were to govern the troops
during the march.
The advance moved on to Columbia about noon, where we found a squadron
of the First Kentucky Yankee Cavalry in possession of the town. Driving
their pickets in we advanced to the edge of the town, where we rode into
line and dismounted to fight.
In a few moments we were closely engaged with the enemy, commanded by a
Kentuckian, Captain Carter, afterward killed or shot by a member of
Company B. Carter fought his force well, being shielded by the houses;
but as soon as he was wounded they retreated. He, with other wounded,
fell in our hands. As only a brave man can do, he talked with the
soldier who visited him a few minutes before he died, telling the
Confederate that he was a gallant soldier and that he shot him in
self-defense and while in the service of his country. The gallant
Captain surely met his fate soldierly.
Supplying our wants we left town and marched within two miles of Green
River bridge (not the railroad bridge), which was defended by a regiment
of Yankee infantry inside of a strong stockade. Placing our picket out,
we encamped for the night.
The next morning, the Fourth of July, by some error of the A. A. G., two
regiments were put in advance of the Fourteenth, and by a further
misconstruction of orders they advanced against the stockade, which on
this side of the river was impregnable, and there were obstacles of
every description to impede a charge. Nevertheless, our troops hurled
themselves against it with great gallantry and fought desperately until
the General had them withdrawn. The troops were cut up badly, and many
of our “best and bravest” fell in this engagement, among them being
Colonel Shenault of the Seventh Kentucky, Major Brent of the Sixth,
First Lieut. Chas. Kirtley of the Thirteenth Kentucky, commanding his
company at the time, and many other gallant men and officers.
I cannot say who was the author of this movement, which was not a
skilful move certainly, for we had to flank it finally to gain the pike
beyond. By using our artillery on the opposite side they could have been
shelled into submission, beyond reach of their rifles.
The brigade halted to feed at Campbellsville. Mounting again at dark, we
did not halt until in front of Lebanon, about three o’clock in the
morning. At daylight we advanced on the force garrisoning the town,
which was the Twentieth Kentucky Yankee Infantry under Col. Chas.
Hanson, a brother of the colonel of the Second Kentucky Infantry,
afterward a general in our service, killed at Murfreesboro.
The garrison, as we advanced into town, had posted themselves in brick
houses, depot buildings, and churches. But forming our line in a circle
enclosing the town we moved to the attack. A street fight is one of the
most desperate modes of warfare known to a soldier. The advantage is
strongly against the storming party.
The Fourteenth charged mounted to within seventy-five yards of the
railroad depot, and dismounted under the most deadly fire that we ever
saw. The artillery took position on our right, opening on the depot in
dead earnest. At every report the boys would cheer, the building
tumbling at every discharge. Before the General commenced the assault he
sent in a flag of truce to Colonel Hanson, demanding an immediate
surrender; but if he would not consent, a limited time would be allowed
to him to remove all non-combatants. He would not permit the inhabitants
to leave, however, thinking they might prove to be a protection to his
force, as we would probably not cannonade the town while the women and
children remained. In that the Colonel was badly mistaken. His troops
numbered about six hundred, and all fought desperately to keep the boys
out of the houses. But the cavalry would go up and in. Some of our
troops would frequently run their guns and pistols through the windows
and fire, while others would storm the doors and gain their entrance.
The fight was raging terribly when Thos. H. Morgan, first lieutenant of
Company I, Duke’s regiment, a brother of the General, while acting
aide-de-camp and gallantly bearing orders, was shot through the head,
causing his instant death. This happened in sight of the General, who
became so enraged at such inhuman fighting that he sent his aides flying
with orders to burn and destroy, which soon brought our brutal foe to a
sense of feeling.
The whole town was quickly in a blaze and getting disagreeably hot. The
engagement had lasted from morning until noon, and but for the burning
would have lasted longer, at a great sacrifice of life. The white flag
appeared in many places at the same time. Before it was discovered or
acknowledged they were nearly “rare done.” Everything but hot stoves
suffered that day. The troopers, not without cause, were much enraged,
and they could scarcely be controlled by their officers.
During the taking of Lebanon two Yankee regiments were within two miles
of the town, but would not and did not come to the rescue. The officer
in command was afterward relieved for his timid and cowardly action. It
was proven that he was half a day marching seven miles.
When the General was ready to march he privately detached a piece of
artillery out of town, in charge of an officer, with instructions to
shell the town. The order to mount had been given, but the boys fell
slowly into line. However, the explosion of the first shell was
sufficient to place all in line, ready for marching, as the General
expected.
We moved out on the Springfield road, arriving at that place before
night, with the prisoners, who were paroled. The advance halted to feed
six miles beyond the town, on the road to Bardstown. The brigade stopped
nearer the town. One of the officers of Company B was killed at Lebanon,
another captured while en route to Bardstown the night we left
Springfield, so that when the advance reached Bardstown I was the only
officer in Company B, in which there were seventy-five men, which kept
me pretty active during the trip.
The night’s march to Bardstown was one of the darkest we ever
experienced. It was impossible to see even your fellow-soldier in the
same set riding by your side. We halted near but not in sight of the
city, and conferred with Captain Sheldon of Company C, Second Kentucky
Cavalry, who had been the morning previous detached on a scouting
expedition in the vicinity of Bardstown.
After meeting and skirmishing with, chasing, and being chased by a
detachment of the regular Yankee cavalry, he had eluded and followed
them, without their knowledge, into town, where, finding them quartered
in a livery stable, he formed his line around, and barricaded the
streets and alleys so strongly and successfully that they could not get
out except at great sacrifice. Under Captain Sheldon’s guidance Colonel
Morgan dismounted his regiment to go to the relief of Company C,
supporting him until morning, when an immediate surrender was asked. The
Major commanding, however, refused to comply.
The brigade having arrived about daylight, a piece of ordnance was
brought to bear upon the stable, the “expression” of which appeared so
ferocious that the Major submitted and hung out his white flag without
further hesitation. The Major, a lieutenant, and fifty men surrendered,
with as many horses, splendidly equipped.
Feeding and breakfasting, we were soon moving for the “Lew” and
Nashville Railroad south of Shepherdstown, and not more than twenty
miles distant from Louisville. The head of the column reached the
railroad about the hour that the evening passenger train north was due.
The General, who was riding with the advance, sent Company A of the
Fourteenth to the road on our left to obstruct the cars after they
passed. Company B was ordered to intercept them in front.
We had just arrived at the crossing when the train hove in sight. Quick
as thought the General had one of Burns’s field pieces upon the track,
and sent its contents booming down the track, checking the train, and
almost instantly the engineer commenced reversing his engine. But
Company B, which was rapidly advancing, put a stop to its wild career.
The guard on the train, consisting of thirty or forty infantry,
contested their ground stubbornly. Getting out on the opposite side from
us, they used the train for breastworks. But, to use a soldier’s term,
“we went for them,” dislodging and driving them into the woods.
After ordering the driver to move his engine up to the crossing, Company
B, already formed, escorted her to the General’s presence.
Her passengers were principally Yankee officers, field and staff, from
whom I fell heir to several useful articles—without their consent, I
imagine, if their faces were a true index to their feelings. Nor could I
blame them much, for the cavalry boots, No. 6, were splendid, the navies
handsome, and the swords and rigging rich and beautiful. Besides all of
these, the boys appropriated some valuable property, such as gold and
silver watches, meerschaum pipes, greenbacks and specie, etc. The U. S.
mail numbered over a hundred sacks, which were turned over to the
brigade A. Q. M., with the exception of a few sacks the boys reserved
for their own use. The General let all the passengers retain their
effects, save the military, and without injury, and ordered the train to
return to Elizabethtown.
Burning a stockade and bridge, we continued our march until three
o’clock and then encamped until morning. Late as it was, the boys built
small fires to open and examine their mail by.
Hardly a moment elapsed, “day or dreaming night,” but what we were
capturing the enemy’s forces, sometimes in small and often in large
numbers. At daylight on the morning of the 7th we were found in the
saddle en route to Brandenburg on the Ohio River, and forty or fifty
miles below Louisville, Kentucky.
The advance, after a few exciting adventures, marched into the above
place just after dark, and found two steamers lying at the wharf, which
Capt. Sam. B. Taylor, of the Tenth, who had been sent on that service
early in the day, had captured without much difficulty. The steamboat
_Alice Dean_ was taken while lying at the landing, and soon afterward
the steamboat _General Combs_ appeared in view, coming up the river.
Captain Taylor, commanding the _Alice Dean_, went out to meet and escort
the _General_ into the wharf, very much to the astonishment of the
captain and the passengers.
I could mention, and yet it will be omitted, much that happened during
the night and the next morning, or rather the next day, which was spent
crossing over “Jordan” into the “Promised Land.”
Upon our arrival we dismounted to form line on the beach until the
brigade came up. We then returned to our horses to feed them and to
steal a little nod, if such were possible. Some of the boys gave
champagne parties that night in the meadow, which doubtless was taken
from the stores of one of the steamers; as also were a few other
luxuries that had so mysteriously come into their possession. After
satisfying their unnatural appetites all took a sly snooze, dreaming of
home and of the fair fields beyond the waters.
Tired nature must have its requisite amount of rest; it may be overtaxed
for a long time, but sooner or later exhaustion will come, when the
body, in spite of all we can do otherwise, will repose. Many have been
the times when I would have given worlds, if I possessed them, to lie
down in a fence corner with permission to sleep a few hours. But the
enemy was in front, and the watchword was “forward, march.” After
crossing the Ohio we never halted except to feed, to fight, and to
destroy U. S. property.
Our balmy slumbers were very easily disturbed by an explosion of a shell
in our midst, thrown from a piece on the Hoosier State side. Burns’s
battery returned the fire, and at the second shot dismounted the Yankee
gun, a splendid rifled cannon, that afterward fell into our possession.
It occupied the entire day of the 8th to effect the crossing, there
being many interruptions. Four or five gun-boats tried hard to intercept
us, but our rifle field-pieces of longer range kept them at arm’s
length, and finally compelled them to take shelter behind a point in the
river.
Several U. S. transports, loaded with troops, had accompanied the
gun-boats down from Louisville, and partly disembarked them on the
Indiana side. But Duke’s and Ward’s regiments, who had first crossed,
were on hand to receive them, and drove them pell mell on the boats
again, which steamed up the river hurriedly beyond their reach. The
_General Combs_ and _Alice Dean_ ferried all over safely by sunset. One
of them, the latter I think, was a U. S. transport. She was set on fire
and burnt up. A poor reward for her gallant and faithful service. The
_General Combs_, being private property, was liberated with many thanks
for her efficient services.
The command that night, which was intensely dark, marched on Corydon. We
appeared before Corydon early in the morning of the 9th. The advance,
then in command of Captain Hines, moved upon the enemy in front, met
their outpost, a company of cavalry, and on exchanging a few shots drove
them back into town. Hines’ company was the first and Company B the next
in order for that day’s march; therefore, when his company engaged the
enemy, Company B supported him. Regiments when marching have it so
arranged that each company has its respective days for marching at the
head of the column, it being easier to march at the front than at the
rear of a column, and thus they change alternately.
While the advance was passing a farmhouse the proprietor was suddenly
seized with a patriotic feeling, and taking down his old fusee
deliberately fired into our line, killing one of Hines’s men. This
enraged the boys, and one of them, who had been riding by the side of
the one killed, threw himself from his horse, cleared the enclosure at a
bound, and with a chunk of fire from out of the house, set it on fire,
leaving the patriotic gentleman in the second story to take care of
himself.
I know you have heard many wonderful stories about our burning private
property on that raid. If any other than this house was burnt, I am not
aware of it. All other property that I saw burning was U. S. Government
property, and that we considered our sacred duty to destroy whenever and
wherever we found it, especially if we did not have transportation for
it.
When almost in sight of town we turned off of the main approach upon a
side road, leading to the right and the rear of the town, with the
intention of flanking and getting in the enemy’s rear, while the brigade
assaulted in front.
We had not proceeded more than one-half mile when we noticed three women
standing in a yard in front of a house, crying bitterly and wringing
their hands as though their hearts would break. The column passed
silently and respectfully, but the silence lasted only until they had
passed the house, then you might have heard them saying to each other,
“Look out, boys, the Yankees are near,” and soon all were closely
inspecting their arms, capping their Enfields, and arranging navies so
as to be speedily handled. Those women, by their tears, informed us in a
simple, but reliable, way that the enemy was close by. Soldiers do not
know a truer sign. Anticipation of a battle and the anxiety concerning
the safety of some loved one caused those tears to flow. This we well
knew by actual experience and observation.
So it happened. We had gone scarce two hundred yards before our line
received a terrific and well directed volley from nearly three hundred
stands of arms, wounding and killing twelve of our column.
In an instant the line was dismounted, and forwarding quickly into a
line of battle charged them with a yell and with great determination,
driving them with no little loss from their ambuscade, with little loss
to ourselves.
While pursuing them hotly, to within a short distance of the road in the
rear of the town, our foe unexpectedly ran into the Third Kentucky, who
had flanked the town on the left, and to them they surrendered without
conditions. But until the white flag was hoisted we never ceased firing,
neither could the Third resist the temptation of giving a broadside to
bring them to a stand. The prisoners were taken into town by the Third.
We advanced out the Albany road, and it was not long before we
discovered a squad of Yankees, although we remained unnoticed by them.
Company B received orders to attack them. By advancing to the brow of
the hill we concealed ourselves behind a fence until the enemy ascended
quite near, then rising and firing my navy, that being the signal for B
to open fire, we poured such a hot fire into them that it caused a
stampede unrivaled in war, which I shall never forget if I should live
for a thousand years. I will wager that “Harrison County Home Guards”
can beat the world running, get them frightened or panic stricken.
Mounting our horses again we marched till we arrived at the forks of the
road, four miles from town, where Hines concealed his force, except
Company B, in an orchard behind a thick hedge. He then ordered my
company to take post in a large log stable, immediately within the fork,
with instructions to invite all passersby in, as they arrived.
Upon concealing my men I took position alongside of the road, and as the
Yankees came by in twos, fours, and up to companies, hurrying to Corydon
to reinforce Colonel Jordan, the commandant, I would step out, as a
representative of the “Home Guards,” and take them in charge, or rather
in the stable, disarm them gently, and send them under guard to Captain
Hines.
This deception was successfully carried on till the firing in town had
ceased, when we started to the town with over one hundred prisoners,
which, as we confidently supposed, was in the possession of our men.
Turning our prisoners over to the provost guard, who had nearly seven
hundred to parole, we were soon on the road to Salem, Colonel Dick
commanding.
As we advanced every mile had to be strongly contested for. Militia,
home guards, and regular troops were on every hill top, bushwhackers and
armed citizens behind every tree, and hardly a moment elapsed but you
could hear the Minie’s sharp report. Everything was in an uproar.
Families deserted their dwellings to hide in the woods. Yet nothing
stopped us. On we galloped, driving all obstructions from our front,
entering the town of Salem some time before night, and capturing nearly
five hundred regular soldiers, militia, home guards, bushwhackers, and
fighting citizens. It would be difficult to say which was best
represented.
When the men had been supplied with a variety of necessaries, such as
boots, hats, etc., the advance left Salem, the county-seat of Washington
County, and moved out on the road to Lexington, the county-seat of Scott
County. We stopped at a little village, four miles from Salem, to feed
and rest our wearied horses, and to get something refreshing for
ourselves. The main force halted long enough in Salem to feed, and
destroy all military supplies, together with the large depot buildings.
During our stay in the little burg some of the boys went into a Dutch
shoe shop and purchased a number of pairs of home-made boots, paying for
them in Confederate funds. While a portion were buying, others were
securing suitable pairs without the Dutch woman’s knowledge, who was the
acting saleswoman. She at last detected them in the act of shoplifting,
and such a cry arose as never was heard before—the most distressing and
heartbreaking cries that mortal ever gave vent to. Our commander, on
hearing the uproar, and thinking a murder was being committed, came
double-quick to the scene of action to ascertain the cause of the sudden
alarm. On his learning what the difficulty was he attempted to pacify
the Dutch woman by settling the amount in current funds. But with no
success. She would not listen to anything; she was “forever ruined.” It
was one of the most laughable scenes associated with the raid, and one
the actors will long remember.
As soon as our steeds were a little refreshed we mounted and pressed on
to Lexington, followed closely by the brigade. As we moved forward there
was nothing but a succession of charges. It seemed the entire population
was in arms, behind every bush the enemy was to be found. Shots flew
thick and fast. Dogs howled, horses neighed, cattle lowed, and every
living creature was sending forth some distressful and pitiful noise.
Still on we galloped, very often hotly chasing detachments of the enemy
and riding them down without a sigh of regret. When within seven or
eight miles of the Jeffersonville and Indianapolis Railroad we commenced
descending from the hills into the valley, meeting parties of from ten
to fifty citizens with axes on their way to the highlands to obstruct
our line of march by blockading the road with trees. Such orders had
been telegraphed to them by Governor Morton, which news “Lightning” had
previously intercepted, and was one reason for our rapid marching. The
poor citizens suffered that day in mind, and also, I expect, in pocket,
their new axes being sadly treated, so much so that I doubt if they ever
found the edge again. We got the edge off them without any difficulty.
Company B formed the head of the column on this day, and when within six
miles of the railroad was detached with orders to hasten to Vienna.
Putting spurs to our steeds we passed the videttes at a brisk canter. En
route we met several parties of wood choppers, hurrying to the
blockading-ground.
Passing Company B off as Washington County Home Guards, we urged them
forward by telling them that Morgan had passed through Salem. In a very
few moments we had charged into Vienna, accompanied by our operator. We
found all the inhabitants in the streets at two hundred yards distance.
This looked suspicious, for many of them were in Yankee uniforms, which
signified to us that it was a solid line of battle. But this was no time
to hesitate. Our instructions were to take the town, and into town we
went, pell mell, feeling very much like a man who expected to be shot
at; but we were agreeably disappointed, as it happened. There were many
soldiers, but all unarmed.
The women were soon crying, begging, and imploring us to spare their
children. The boys heard this with amazement, and asked the women if
they thought we were barbarians that they should think we could hurt
women and children. The men assured them that not a hair of their heads
would be injured, nor would they wound their feelings in any way.
Quieting them as best we could, we ordered all in their houses excepting
the men. These a sergeant with a guard took charge of.
Another sergeant was sent after the U. S. operator, who was found at the
house by the side of his Dulcinea, little dreaming that Morgan’s men had
possession of his office. When Sergeant T. inquired for him he arose,
saying he was the gentleman asked for. The sergeant informed him that he
had business for him to attend to in his office. On their walk down to
the depot he eyed the sergeant closely. The sergeant noticed this, and
asked him if he did not think he knew him. He replied, “I am not sure,
but I think you are one of Morgan’s men.”
He was quite certain of that fact a little later, after he had been
turned over to “Rebel Lightning,” who had some trouble in getting the
necessary signal known to the operators. But on seeing a navy pistol
presented he was more communicative.
On “Lightning” receiving the necessary news a courier was dispatched
post haste to the General, and soon after another. The track was also
destroyed on both sides of the town, and when the General arrived all
orders had been executed, destroying what U. S. stores had been found
there, and burning the depot and railroad bridges.
The command moved on to Lexington that night, where, arriving about
midnight, we fed and rested until morning. The “home protection”
stationed there left on our approach.
At an early hour the next morning several companies of the enemy’s
forces marched into town, without knowing who was there. None of our
troops was in the town at the time, but General Morgan, with a small
bodyguard, the rest of his men being encamped near by feeding. Both
parties were struck with surprise, and for some moments all was
confusion. However, the General did not long hesitate before he sent a
courier to us to come to his assistance.
Mounting our horses we soon galloped to his relief, though too late to
have a tilt with the Northmen, for before we could report they had
suddenly disappeared. With such an opportunity, what simpletons they
were not to attempt a capture and perhaps be able to carry off our
General. Had they been men of nerve they might have accomplished that
which would have secured them a brilliant place in Yankee history. Yet
they lacked the pluck.
Receiving our instructions the Fourteenth moved off in the direction of
Vernon, the county-seat of Jennings County, through which runs the Ohio
and Mississippi Railroad, and also a railroad running from Columbus, a
point on the Jeffersonville and Indianapolis Railroad, to Madison on the
Ohio.
Vernon was reached in the afternoon, where a large force had collected.
We deeply impressed them with the idea that we intended to give them
battle, but this was only done to draw their attention from certain
military supplies, railroad and railroad bridges, the depot, etc., that
we designed destroying.
We then continued our march to Versailles, making sad havoc with all
railroads and public property, and at the same time our detachments were
operating on each flank, by which the Yankees were deceived as to our
whereabouts, reporting us very often at as many as twenty towns almost
at once. When we reached Versailles the inhabitants made a grand mistake
in taking us for Federal soldiers, and not until we were leaving did
they learn that we were Rebels. One old lady declared she knew it, had
known it all the time. But I am afraid not, if I am to be guided by her
actions and from the bountiful way she provided our men with such a
variety of nice edibles.
One mile from town a force in ambush fired on the advance, and then ran,
we after them full-tilt, giving them fits every jump until the road was
entirely clear.
The many towns between Versailles and Hamilton, Ohio, could not be
mentioned under several pages, and besides I cannot call them all to
mind. Yet I do remember that every town, day, and hour had its stirring
adventures. The command was almost worn out, and dead for want of sleep
and rest. Yet on and on we marched. Soon Hamilton, Big Miami River, the
canal and railroad were in sight, and while descending the hill a
magnificent view was before us. The valley beyond possessed a great
variety of beautiful scenery; the town itself was very handsome and
beautiful; and the canal, river, and railroad gave the finishing touch
to as grand a picture as nature affords. We remained but a short time in
Hamilton, yet long enough to exchange some of our wearied horses for
some fresher ones. Then passing through we halted to feed beyond the
city limits.
Soon the column was moving, and during the night’s march passed within
seven miles of the Queen City, where a detachment, previously
instructed, drove their outpost in, causing unbounded excitement in
“Porkopolis.” It was without doubt the darkest of all nights. The troops
were almost exhausted for want of sleep. Many of them during the night,
while asleep, wandered off on some of the many side roads,
notwithstanding the officers’ vigilance to keep all awake by riding from
the head of their companies to the rear and back again, and constantly
urging them, if they loved their country’s cause, to keep each other
awake. Oftentimes I have seen on that raid both man and horse nodding
together, and at such times the horse staggering like one intoxicated.
The Little Miami and railroad to Columbus were crossed before the day
appeared.
During the next day Camp Dennison was threatened but not attacked.
Several hundred wagons were found near by and burnt, as well as a large
quantity of other stores. With the advance Company B was again the
first, and early in the morning was detached to cut the railroad.
On reaching the scene of operations a detail was advanced toward
Dennison, who met the enemy’s outpost near a bridge, and, after a sharp
and well-fought skirmish, drove the Yankees away, capturing several of
their horses fully equipped.
We had scarcely time to put two large ties into a cattle gap like the
letter X and to cut the telegraph wire, before we saw a train of
passenger cars coming like a whirlwind around a curve. They certainly
had seen our main column and were trying to get away. At the first
intimation of her approach we disappeared into a cornfield immediately
alongside. The train shot past like a blazing meteor, and the next thing
we saw was a dense cloud of steam above which flew large timbers. Our
next sight startled our nerves, for there lay the monster floundering in
the field like a fish out of water, with nothing but the tender
attached. Her coupling must have broken, for the passenger carriages and
express were still on the track, several yards ahead. Over three hundred
raw recruits were on board, bound for Camp Dennison. They came tumbling
and rolling out in every way imaginable.
Company B was in line ready for action, when we discovered they were
unarmed, except for a few having side-arms. All submitted without a
single shot, and were sent under guard to the General.
Examining and closely inspecting the prize, orders were received to set
her on fire. Just before leaving a locomotive came down from Dennison to
see what had caused the train’s delay; but when the engineer discovered
our men galloping to his rear to intercept his retreat, he put his
engine back at her utmost speed and escaped capture.
There were but two persons hurt at the above break up, and they were the
engineer and the fireman. The former was a little scalded and the latter
had a bone fractured. Permission was given to several of his friends to
carry him to the nearest house and liberty granted them to take care of
him.
Soon we were again at the head of the advance, after an hour’s absence,
perhaps. Our main force passed to the left of Georgetown several miles,
but the advance, according to instructions, made a flank march and went
to the county-seat of Brown County, where we halted to dine, feed, and
see the “Lion.” We overtook the command at ten o’clock that night and
took our position in front.
The next day we crossed the canal leading from Portsmouth to Cleveland,
and the Scioto River, marching through Jackson about midday, dispersing
a large force of Ohio militia who were guarding the railroad to Ironton
and burning depot buildings, railroad and other property belonging to
the so-called “Uncle Sam.”
At four in the evening we entered the town of Chester in Meigs County,
after great difficulty. Every bridge had been destroyed in our front,
and at every pass and ravine the road was blockaded and defended by
troops in concealment, but we never failed to dislodge and drive them
confusedly away. A large number of “blockaders” were captured and,
accompanied by a guard, were compelled to clear away the obstructions
that many of them had assisted in making. Poor fellows, they felt their
time had come, so badly were they frightened. They would no more halt
when we were after them than they could fly. Oftentimes the boys would
dismount and go in pursuit of these bushwhackers and command them to
halt, but on they ran, like some one that had escaped from the deaf and
dumb asylum, never stopping until the boys laid violent hands upon them,
holding them fast by main force. Even then they would strive hard to get
away, just as some wild animals would do. At times it was difficult to
keep the boys from shooting them down for such actions.
Halting in Chester for the arrival of the General and forces, we had a
delightful time, certain delicacies having been prepared by the ladies
for their gallant and patriotic defenders.
On General Morgan’s arrival we moved on to the river at a double quick,
never reining our horses until dark, and then we were on the bank of the
Ohio. We soon captured the picket of the forces guarding the ford, which
consisted of three hundred militia from Marietta, with three
field-pieces, and though strongly entrenched they left the country as
soon as they heard of our arrival, leaving their guns in our charge.
Our brigade and artillery did not come up until midnight. It was then
extremely dark and foggy, and knowing that we undoubtedly would have to
swim a part of the way, at least, across the river, and that it would be
extremely difficult to get our battery over it, it was thought advisable
to delay until daylight and fair play. I am now confident that had we
attempted it very many of our men would have been drowned. Every one was
broken down with fatigue, and thus the delay.
Twice during the night I was ordered with twenty of Company B to cross
the river in search of flatboats, but failed to secure any. If we had
not been under orders, how easily we could have escaped the coming
disaster, and yet we never suspected that such would be our fate.
When daylight appeared couriers from every part of the field were seen
flying to headquarters. One reported that the rear was attacked, the
next our right, and another, our left, and soon the engagement was
general and hotly contested. Duke, with two regiments, drove General
Judah’s forces back, but being struck in the flank by another force, he
retreated. The enemy, so much our superior in numbers, we being reduced
to not more than fifteen hundred, if that, had all the advantages,
assisted by small gun-boats that had succeeded in getting above the
shoals by a rise in the river. Several Yankee officers informed me
afterward that over sixty thousand regular troops, not mentioning
militia, home guards, bushwhackers, and armed citizens, were opposed to
us on that day. However, until noon, we lost little of our position; but
it was very evident that we would have to yield finally, or run for it.
Seeing this, the General knew he would have to sacrifice a part of his
force to save the other. While a portion was holding the Yankees in
check, under a terrible fire of shot and shell, our General made his
escape up the river with the remainder. And for the first time a white
flag, the sign of surrender, was seen in charge of an officer going to
the enemy’s lines.
On sight of the flag the old scouts begged me to lead them out; but this
I could not do, except by the permission of my superior officer, and
when I asked the Colonel he refused me that liberty, saying it would be
impossible or at a great sacrifice of men. I replied on behalf of the
scouts that all were ready and willing to run that risk, particularly
when imprisonment with all its horrors was staring us in the face.
Still, the Colonel would not consent. Had we attempted without his will,
and succeeded in cutting our way out, and he been captured, it would
have been called a glorious deed. On the other hand, if he had, through
some mysterious way, been extricated, our leaving without orders of our
superior would have been branded as desertion. But the fight was over,
and we prisoners of war.
I will not continue my sketch further. You are well posted as to events
which have transpired since the 19th day of July, 1863, the day of our
capture. I have written only a very limited account of what happened,
and in a humble way; but if it pleases as well as interests her for whom
it was designed, I will be richly and amply rewarded for this feeble
struggle.
I will say in conclusion, my dear sister, that this unadorned outline
was written and intended for your eyes alone, free from comment, for the
memory of comrades gone is sacredly dear.
Very affectionately yours,
FRANK.
N. B.—Not being with General Morgan after the 19th of July, it would be
impossible to relate his further adventures.
FRANK.
Completed December 23d, 1865,
expressly
for a
Christmas Present.
CHAPTER III
PRISON LIFE
We continue the story of K. F. Peddicord’s life from memoranda written
by him at intervals, and think it proper to introduce some letters
written by him while in prison after the Ohio raid.
After the capture the prisoners were taken by boats to Cincinnati, Ohio.
While marching through the streets of the city en route to prison,
guarded on all sides by policemen on foot, policemen mounted, and
infantry, artillery and cavalry flankers, one of the boys quietly
stepped out in the dense crowd. Having citizen’s dress he escaped
notice, and to make matters more secure he walked forward and spoke to
one of his company, with, “Hello, Jim! Where was you captured?” Jim
understood the situation. The guard ordered, “Stand back there!” and
their friend fell back into the multitude and proudly went to liberty
again. On went the column to the Female Prison, where they were confined
four days. The prisoners were then moved to Johnson’s Island, where they
were kept eight days. Soon after this the field and staff officers (68)
were put in the penitentiary at Columbus, Ohio, and the line officers
(119) were taken to Allegheny City and put in the Western Penitentiary
of Pennsylvania, where they remained eight months. The men were sent to
Camp Douglas, Chicago, Illinois.
The next move in the spring of 1864 was to Point Lookout, Maryland, via
Baltimore and Chesapeake Bay. One of the prisoners, Lawrence Peyton, was
killed there in a most cowardly manner by Sergeant Young of the Sixth
New Hampshire.
From Point Lookout the prisoners were taken by ocean steamer to Fort
Delaware, located on Pea Patch Island in Delaware Bay, where they were
confined until June, 1865. The following letters are of interest in this
connection:
“Division 27, Officers’ Barracks,
“Fort Delaware, Del., December 7, 1864.
“My dearest Sister Lily:
“Again was I made glad, this evening, upon the receipt of your kind
letter of the 1st. Having postponed several days in hopes of getting a
letter before writing, at last I was successful, and the realization has
made me again cheerful. For, to tell you the truth, I was quite sad.
There is nothing so depressing to one’s spirits as the absence or
non-arrival of letters from one’s friends, which you will please bear in
mind.
“But what added most to my discomfort was not hearing from ——, for in
his letter of the 14th of November he wrote me that he would send me a
check _soon_. I answered immediately upon receipt, it being the 19th,
but have received no answer or check, although I have not yet given up
all hopes. With a little assistance of that kind, now and then, we
expect to live through the winter, and without it it would indeed be
hard living, as prisoner’s fare is not very flattering.
“I have several times been reduced to that predicament. This has been
the case particularly for the last three or four weeks, since I
preferred to pay a few small debts with the five dollars you sent,
rather than purchase what I really needed. I miss my coffee most, and
therefore I am often hungry, and when once hungry, without some
assistance you will always be so, when restricted to a certain amount of
rations. But enough of this; neither space nor restrictions will permit
me to say more. I am trusting something may be done.
“Write soon and often, and tell me something of Mummy now and then. Glad
to find your last letter some longer, but you can still do much better.
Love to all.
“I am, my dear sister,
“Truly your affectionate brother,
“K. F. PEDDICORD.”
“Officers’ Quarters, Division 27,
“Fort Delaware, Del., December 25, 1864.
“(A ring inclosed.)
“Dear Sister India:
“Your kind letter of the 18th came gliding into my sad and lonely
quarters last evening, with a mild and gentle sympathy that steals away
their sadness and loneliness ere I am aware. A retrospect of bygone
brings to mind, this morning, many pleasing incidents which cause me for
a time to forget my present situation. While musing o’er those happy
days I can but sigh and say, ‘Would I were a boy again!’
“Could our friends have been silent spectators last evening they would
doubtless have been surprised and much amused at _our entertainment_ in
this division. We cleaned up and dressed up early, and at 6 o’clock two
sets of boys, in their best—to represent ‘ladies,’ hats off—or a nice
smoking-cap on to designate them, were tripping lively steps to the
music of two violins. After dancing, we had songs, and all wound up
before ‘lights out’ (9 o’clock) with a _rat supper_. For if you must
know, there are many here who eat them whenever they can get them, and
that is frequently.
“While the ball was going on in this (Kentucky) division, prayer-meeting
was on in the next. Thus it goes in life. I did not dance; there is no
poetry to me in dancing with a man. I thought, while looking on, if the
girls could see us, they would say, ‘Well, those boys have learned to
live without us. They do their own washing, cooking, sewing and
dancing.’
“I wrote to you on the 20th, in answer to yours containing ten dollars.
I also wrote you the 23d, and enclosed a ring, which, if received,—and I
have my doubts,—take an old toothbrush, soap and water, and clean it,
then rub it with buckskin. I send in this the plain one, just finished;
it will not quite go on my third finger. I thought that too large. If it
doesn’t suit you, I’ll make another. A friend gave me the one I sent you
on the 23d. It is beautiful, I think. Don’t you think so?
“Remember me to friends. Love to all. Write me often and longer. The
weather looks charming to-day, but not like Christmas of old.
“With much love,
“Your affectionate brother,
“K. F. PEDDICORD.”
“Officers’ Barracks, Division 27,
“Fort Delaware, 4th January, 1865.
“Dear Sister:
“Glad to acknowledge receipt of your kind letter of the 26th (the answer
to mine of 16th), but better pleased to find enclosed five dollars ($5).
However, that expression conveys but a feeble idea of my feelings and of
the heartfelt thanks to you for your sisterly kindness and attention. It
put new life into me. I trust that my _three_ or _four_ letters
subsequent to the 16th have all safely reached you, together with two
rings enclosed at different times, and I also hope with the rings you
are well pleased. Give one to Sam. If they are not what you wanted, tell
me, and I’ll try again. I sent Cousin Bell one for a Christmas gift.
“I received yesterday per express a box containing pair of pants, shoes,
2 pairs of socks, hair brush, looking-glass, handkerchief, twelve sheets
of letter paper, package of envelopes, small blank book and pencil,
soap, two books,—‘India’ and ‘Prince Regent,’—two towels, all of which I
am much pleased with. Had the flannel shirts been put in they would have
done more good than shoes. I have just had my boots half-soled, and I
think they will nearly last me this winter.
“When I went outside to get the package I did not bring the shoes, for
the custom is to exchange your old clothes for the new ones. Therefore,
I did not trade my boots off, though they are old and they are the best
for winter and such snow as we have now. I received a letter dated 26th
from Lily yesterday, as quite well, and had received a letter from you,
then safe at P——. I also received one from home of the 21st, written by
Jennie. All well. Jennie was about going to Tennessee. I received one
from M——, same date, and _very sweet_, written a few moments after
_kissing_ my mother’s eldest, who was never better. The rogue read my
last and sent his love, etc. Give my best to all kind friends.
“With much love to Sam, Ernest, Minnie, and your dearest self, I am
“Yours indeed,
“K. F. PEDDICORD.
“I am well, but at this moment very cold from writing. Write often and
longer.
“FRANK.”
“Fort Delaware, May 3d, 1865.
“My dear Mother:
“My last to you was dated 23d of April, being a response to brother’s of
the 16th inst. Knowing a kind mother’s anxiety for her children, I have
concluded not to wait longer for intelligence from home.
“Many startling and sad events have happened since I last wrote, enough
to chill one’s heart. Our feelings can only be imagined by those who
have had the like experience, or, if they could escape without sad and
sore hearts, they would not be human beings. The bravest and firmest
spirits are depressed with the mournful facts that have stared us in the
face, facts which, at first, could hardly be realized. But the crisis is
over, the last vestige of hope has disappeared and passed into oblivion,
and we think of it as a word of no meaning. The inconstant world is a
cheat, life is a shame.
“The struggle with self has been most trying; and self-respect has left
me within the last few days; nothing but the man remains, but a dejected
form or counterfeit resemblance of a once proud spirit.
“In the privates’ barracks there were over six thousand; in our quarters
there are over two thousand officers; all of the former consented,
several days ago, to take the oath of allegiance when the roll was
called and it was offered. Four or five hundred consented yesterday,
myself included, and about one hundred remain yet who have not
consented. The majority will yield, I think, in a few days. It could not
be expected we would change so long as we had an army in the field; but
when the last army had surrendered we knew our last hope had expired.
Still, to change so suddenly was ‘marrying too soon after death.’
“We do not know how long we are to remain here. I only know we are the
most unfortunate people the world ever knew. May God protect and
preserve us!
“My love to all, and believe me,
“Your affectionate son,
“K. F. PEDDICORD.”
“Fort Delaware, May 7th, 1865.
“Mrs. K. B. Peddicord.
“My dear Mother: My heart was gladdened this morning by the reception of
your favor of the 1st inst., and though but a few days have intervened
since I last wrote you, being the same date of the one just received, I
feel it my duty and your desire that I should write you again. Thus, my
immediate response.
“It is particularly gratifying to learn of the good health of the loved
ones at home, _where I hope to be at no distant day_. But at the present
writing I have not the remotest idea _when_ we will be permitted to
leave. A very small number, by special request of their friends, were
furnished with transportation to their homes a few days since. I
mentioned to you in my last, that of over two thousand officers and five
or six thousand privates held prisoners of war at this place, all but a
very few had then consented to take the oath of allegiance to the United
States, and that myself was one that _weakened_ at the last call.
“Who, but a captive, can imagine our agony and suffering, anxieties and
fears, as day after day passed in monotonous gloom?—shut out from the
world, and in utter ignorance of the fate of near relatives and my many
dear old companions, scattered over the wide extent of the South! With
nothing but such desponding reflections to occupy my mind, time hung
heavy on my hands, and rendered existence doubly intolerable almost.
“But the great crisis is over, and the brightest faces and the gayest
spirits have calmed themselves to be ever afterward mournfully sad.
Alas, that so many proud spirits should be broken, but may He who has so
far guarded and watched over the unfortunates, still protect us!
“With kindest regards to all kind friends, and love to all,
“I remain, my dear mother,
“Still your affectionate boy,
“K. F. PEDDICORD.”
“Merchants Hotel, Philadelphia,
“June 14th, 1865.
“Dear Mother:
“I am free and on my way home. Have a sick friend in charge. Will leave
here on the 19th or 20th. By that time he will be strong enough to
travel. I can’t leave an old and dear companion, mother, although I am
longing to see you so much. Love to all.
“I am, dear mother,
“Your FRANK.”
CHAPTER IV
AFTER THE WAR
After the war Mr. Peddicord worked on a farm until the spring of 1867,
when he moved to Palmyra, Missouri, and on the 22nd of May, 1867,
resumed farming, which occupation he followed for twelve years.
In the spring of 1880 he moved into Palmyra, where he kept a hotel up to
and part of 1883. After this he filled many positions, being secretary
for a number of years of the Subordinate and the County Granges,
director and treasurer of The Fair Association, director and secretary
Board of Directors of Grange Store. He was second in command of Palmyra
Grays, Missouri State Guard; councilman and city clerk of Palmyra,
acting secretary Missouri State Sporting Club. He arranged and organized
fancy drills, viz: “Broom Brigade,” “Flag Brigade,” “Little Mackerels
Brigade,” “Umbrella Brigade,” etc.
During the years 1885 and 1886 he filled a responsible position with
Smith Bros., clothiers, in Palmyra.
On July 1, 1887, he went to Hannibal, Missouri, where he was engaged
with Jas. M. Nickell, the postmaster, until November 1, 1887.
President Cleveland appointed Mr. Peddicord postmaster of Palmyra in
May, 1888, and he took charge of the post-office July 1, 1888, after
having been on duty in the office since April 27, assisting the acting
postmaster, Geo. B. Thompson.
He was corresponding secretary of the Democratic Club in 1892, and in
1893 was connected with the Empire Drill.
He was bookkeeper and assistant to Mr. Samuel Logan, cashier in First
National Bank, Palmyra, Missouri, during 1891 and 1892 and up to
February 1, 1893. Secretary and vice-president First Congressional
District for the Missouri Confederate Home at Higginsville, Missouri,
1890 to 1896. In April, 1895, he was appointed aide-de-camp to Maj.-Gen.
J. O. Shelby, commanding Missouri United Confederate Veterans, to rank
as lieutenant-colonel. He attended the Confederate Reunion, Richmond,
Virginia, June 30, July 1 and 2, 1896, on Maj.-Gen. Shelby’s staff; also
Missouri State Reunion at Liberty, Missouri, August 26 and 27, 1896. He
attended nearly all the reunions of United Confederate Veterans, the
last one being that of June, 1905.
It is said “variety is the spice of life.” Here in this busy life we
find spice for a fact, mountains high. Not many have enjoyed this luxury
so abundantly. First, the smiling school boy; second, the young
tobacconist; third, the young farmer; fourth, the civil engineer; fifth,
the soldier and farmer; sixth, the landlord; seventh, the postmaster.
Adding the varieties and changes of each we find him successful in the
many undertakings of life—but in the “pursuit of wealth,” a perfect
failure.
Like his father, he attained a high average in all he undertook, firm in
the belief that what man had done, man could do.
He was skilled as a horseman, and an educator and master of all animals
through kindness and patience. As a marksman, an oarsman, and an
all-around advocate of true manly sports he represented the ideal type.
Kelion Franklin Peddicord died August 28, 1905.
CHAPTER V
SOME LETTERS RECEIVED BY MRS. LOGAN
The following letters written to Mrs. India P. Logan after Captain
Peddicord’s death have been selected from among a number received, and
are given here to show the regard felt for him by his friends. Few men,
either in public or private life, have left a more honored name than
Captain Peddicord, and it gives sincere pleasure to his relatives to
quote such utterances.
Mr. F. W. Smith, of Palmyra, writes:
“I hardly know how to begin to speak of the many good qualities of my
friend Capt. K. F. Peddicord. He was so pre-eminent in all that goes to
make a good man, that mere words or particular reference would fail to
describe him and to enumerate all his good traits would require more
time and space than is given me.
“Perhaps the most prominent trait of his character was the inflexible
fidelity to trust. For a period of nearly a quarter of a century I was
intimately associated with him, and for nearly twenty years a daily
companion. I was thus given numerous opportunities to observe his
integrity.
“I never knew him to prove unequal to any demand put upon him. He did
not study to be true; it was just naturally his nature to carry out to
the letter a faithful discharge of every duty.
“Along with this peculiar feature of his character must be added a
gentle and kind disposition. He loved the brute kind more than most
people love their blood kin. Nothing, absolutely nothing, aroused his
indignation so quickly as to see a dog or horse abused. I have seen him
take a poor crippled dog in his arms and carry it to a place of safety
and tenderly soothe it as a mother would a child.
“Children were beloved most dearly, and though years separated from
youth, he never failed to sympathize with all the misfortunes of the
school children or to engage in their games and sports, and to so
ingratiate himself with them as to cause them to accept him as one of
their number.
“His heart went out to the unfortunate man or boy, male or female,
against whose good name some scandal attached. He never talked about
people to their disparagement. Truly his motto was, ‘If you cannot speak
well of them, you can at least be silent’.
“No man ever lived who had a higher regard or a greater respect for
women than Captain Peddicord. He was a champion at all times and places.
He crowned her with glory and honor; he defended those with whom perhaps
he never spoke and praised those he never knew.
“He was quiet in his taste, modest to a fault. He admired the beautiful
both in nature and art. He was a student of nature, and learned in many
of the mysteries of plant and flower; passionately fond of leaves, he
gathered great handfuls, selecting and arranging the most beautiful with
care, to give them to some child.
“He had explored the famous Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, and preserved many
examples of that wonderful product of Nature, and could speak with much
interest of his experience in that and many other explorations.
“Of his war record I will not write; but I know he loved his soldier
friends, nor did he ever cease to hold in reverence his companions of
the great war.
“I write these imperfect expressions as a tribute of the love I had for
him. I loved him, and no one could have had a better friend than he was,
ever and always, to me and mine.
“FRANK W. SMITH.”
The following is from a lifelong friend:
“We called him Captain Peddicord; he called himself First Sergeant,
Quirk’s Scouts. Whatever his army rank, he was, among men, first of all
the elegant gentleman. We did not meet until after the war had closed,
our army service being in widely separate fields. On the Board of the
Confederate Home, Higginsville, Missouri, we always found him efficient
and true to the Confederate soldier, ready to aid the needy comrade in
every way that he could. We became quite intimate in after years. He was
courteous and companionable, an extensive reader, and versatile in
conversation.
“While he was respectful to all, he was especially popular with children
and with the younger girls and boys. He had a poetic taste and
Shakespeare seemed his favorite author. He often quoted from him. He was
not aggressive, but attacks by others upon his settled convictions did
not change them. His ideals were pure and good, and woman was enthroned
in the midst of them. I never heard him make a disrespectful remark of a
woman in all our intercourse.
“But if he had one distinguishing trait above the others, it was
_accuracy_.
“Things must be correct, no matter what the tune or what the work. And
this was true of what many would call _little things_. That he was a
brave, heroic soldier goes without saying, what he did, and the
testimony of comrades is all sufficient. In private life he was kind,
considerate, gentle as a woman. His declining years he lived in a quiet,
unobtrusive way, true to his friends, true to himself.
“And now he is under the willows sleeping the last long sleep of the
valiant soldier. I reverently lay a flower upon his grave, and gladly
pay this tribute to his memory.
“T. K. GASH.”
From a friend of many years:
“Having had an intimate association with Captain Peddicord for more than
a quarter of a century, I feel I am in a position to offer the following
tribute to his memory:
“The most striking characteristic that appealed to me was his kindly
nature, his even temperament, his loyalty. I have never known a person
who was such a model of patience; and having grown from a boy to
manhood, almost, under his supervision, I am frank to say that his life
was an inspiration to me, and from it I gathered much that will remain
with me until time shall be no more.
“He was in truth a historian. I have sat for hours and listened to
events that occurred within his knowledge, and wonderful had been his
opportunities. He was a civil engineer, and assisted in the building of
the Louisville and Nashville Bridge, the one that afterward as a
Southern soldier he had helped destroy. And what a soldier he was! I
said to him once, after listening to memories of the past, ‘Captain, did
you ever kill a man in battle?’ His answer was, ‘Boy, I have shot at
many a man’.
“What a master he was! He was the best horseman I ever saw; his control
over an animal was remarkable; his voice seemed to do for him what hands
often failed to do for others.
“I was with him much in his last days, when he calmly, patiently waited
day after day to be called home. Gently, sweetly, his lamp went out.
“HOWARD P. SMITH,
“Palmyra, Mo.”
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Added “CONTENTS” heading to the table of CONTENTS.
2. Silently corrected typographical errors.
3. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
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