PLAYING POSSUM.—Page 295.
Not long after the departure of the guerrillas, our party returned with reinforcements and pursued the rebel band. One of the men returned to camp with me, letting me ride his horse, and walked all the way himself. The guerrillas were captured that day, and, after searching them, mypocket-book was found upon one of them, and was returned to me with its contents undisturbed. It lies before me, while I write, reminding me of that narrow escape, and of the mercy of God in sparing my unprofitable life.
A Sov’reign Protector I have,Unseen, yet forever at hand;Unchangeably faithful to save,—Almighty to rule and command.
After returning to camp, I found that I had sustained more injury by my fall from the horse than I had realized at the time. But a broken limb would have been borne cheerfully, if I could only have had my pet horse again. That evening we held our weekly prayer-meeting, notwithstanding we were on a march. Chaplain and Mrs. B., Nellie, and Dr. E. were present, and joined heartily in singing the following hymn:
And are we yet alive,And see each other’s face?Glory and praise to Jesus give,For His redeeming grace.Preserved by power divineTo full salvation here,Again in Jesus’ praise we join,And in his sight appear.What troubles have we seen!What conflicts have we past!Fightings without, and fears within,Since we assembled last!But out of all the LordHath brought us by His love;And still he doth his help afford,And hides our life above.
MCCLELLAN RELIEVED—HIS ADDRESS—BURNSIDE IN COMMAND—ON THE MARCH—FALMOUTH—MY RIDE—OLD BATTLEFIELDS—SAD SIGHTS—“YANKEE SKULLS”—“BONE ORNAMENTS”—SHELLING FREDERICKSBURG—PONTOON BRIDGES—OCCUPATION OF THE CITY—AIDE-DE-CAMP—DREADFUL SLAUGHTER—A GALLANT MAJOR—STRANGE SIGHTS—DARK NIGHT—DEATH OF GENERAL BAYARD—SOMEONE’S PET—RECROSSING THE RAPPAHANNOCK.
MCCLELLAN RELIEVED—HIS ADDRESS—BURNSIDE IN COMMAND—ON THE MARCH—FALMOUTH—MY RIDE—OLD BATTLEFIELDS—SAD SIGHTS—“YANKEE SKULLS”—“BONE ORNAMENTS”—SHELLING FREDERICKSBURG—PONTOON BRIDGES—OCCUPATION OF THE CITY—AIDE-DE-CAMP—DREADFUL SLAUGHTER—A GALLANT MAJOR—STRANGE SIGHTS—DARK NIGHT—DEATH OF GENERAL BAYARD—SOMEONE’S PET—RECROSSING THE RAPPAHANNOCK.
Afterreaching Warrenton the army encamped in that vicinity for a few days—during which “Father Abraham” took the favorable opportunity of relieving the idol of the Army of the Potomac from his command, and ordered him to report at Trenton, New Jersey, just as he was entering upon another campaign, with his army in splendid condition.
After a brief address and an affecting farewell to officers and men, he hastened to comply with the order. His farewell address was as follows:
“November 7th, 1862. Officers and Soldiers of the Army of the Potomac: An order of the President devolves upon Major-General Burnside the command of this army. In parting from you I cannot express the love and gratitude I bear you. As an army you have grown up under mycare. In you I have never found doubt or coldness. The battles you have fought under my command will proudly live in our nation’s history. The glory you have achieved, our mutual perils and fatigues, the graves of our comrades fallen in battle and by disease, the broken forms of those whom wounds and sickness have disabled—the strongest associations which can exist among men—unite us still by an indissoluble tie. We shall ever be comrades in supporting the constitution of our country and the nationality of its people.”
That was a sad day for the Army of the Potomac.
The new commander marched the army immediately to Falmouth, opposite Fredericksburg. Of the incidents of that march I know nothing, for I went to Washington, and from thence to Aquia Creek by water.
I did not return to Washington on the cars, but rode on horseback, and made a two days’ trip of it, visiting all the old places as I went. The battle-ground of the first and second Bull Run battles, Centerville, Fairfax Court House, and Chentilla.
But how shall I describe the sights which I saw and the impressions which I had as I rode over those fields! There were men and horses thrown together in heaps, and some clay thrown on them above ground; others lay where they had fallen, their limbs bleaching in the sun without the appearance of burial.
There was one in particular—a cavalryman: he and his horse both lay together, nothing but the bones and clothing remained; but one of his arms stood straight up, or rather the bones and the coatsleeve, his hand had dropped off at the wrist and lay on the ground; not a finger or joint was separated, but the hand was perfect. I dismounted twice for the purpose of bringing away that hand, but did not do so after all. I would have done so if it had been possible to find a clue to his name or regiment.
The few families who still live in that vicinity tell horrid stories of the brutal conduct of the rebels after those battles.
A Southern clergyman declares that in the town where he now resides he saw rebel soldiers selling “Yankee skulls” at ten dollars apiece. And it is a common thing to see rebel women wear rings and ornaments made of our soldiers’ bones—in fact they boast of it, even to the Union soldiers, that they have “Yankee bone ornaments.”
This to me was a far more sickening sight than was presented at the time of the battles, with dead and wounded lying in their gore. I looked in vain for the old “brush heap” which had once screened me from the rebel cavalry; the fire had consumed it. But the remains of the Stone Church at Centerville was an object of deep interest to me.
I went from Washington to Aquia Creek by steamer, and from thence to Falmouth onhorseback. I found the army encamped in the mud for miles along the Rappahannock river.
The river is very narrow between Falmouth and Fredericksburg, not more than a stone’s cast in some places. I have often seen the pickets on both sides amusing themselves by throwing stones across it.
Some writer in describing the picturesque scenery in this locality says: “There is a young river meandering through its center, towards which slope down beautiful banks of mud on either side, while the fields are delightfully variegated by alternate patches of snow and swamp, and the numerous roads are in such condition that no matter which one you take you are sure to wish you had tried another instead.”
All the mud and bad roads on the Peninsula could not bear the least comparison with that of Falmouth and along the Rappahannock.
It was now December and the weather was extremely cold, yet the constant rains kept the roads in the most terrible state imaginable.
On riding along the brink of the river we could see distinctly the rebel batteries frowning on the heights beyond the city of Fredericksburg, and the rebel sentinels walking their rounds within talking distance of our own pickets.
On the eleventh the city was shelled by our troops. The pontoon bridges were laid amid showers of bullets from the sharpshooters of the enemy,who were ensconced in the houses on the opposite bank. However, the work went steadily on, notwithstanding that two out of every three who were engaged in laying the bridges were either killed or wounded. But as fast as one fell another took his place.
Soon it was deemed expedient to take care of those sharpshooters before the bridges could be finished. Several companies filed into boats and rowed across in a few minutes, the men of the Seventh Michigan leading the van, and drove the rebels from the houses, killing some and taking many prisoners.
The bridges were soon completed, the troops marched over and took possession of the city. Headquarters were established in the principal building, and a church and other large buildings were appropriated for hospital purposes.
The following is an extract from my journal, written on the battlefield the second day after we crossed the river:
Battle-field, Fredericksburg, Va.,December 13, 1862.
In consequence of one of General H.’s staff officers being ill I have volunteered to take his place, and am now aide-de-camp to General H. I wish my friends could see me in my present uniform! This division will probably charge on the enemy’s works this afternoon. God grant them success! While I write the roar of cannon andmusketry is almost deafening, and the shot and shell are falling fast on all sides. This may be my last entry in this journal. God’s will be done. I commit myself to Him, soul and body. I must close. General H. has mounted his horse, and says Come—!
Of course it is not for me to say whose fault it was in sacrificing those thousands of noble lives which fell upon that disastrous field, or in charging again and again upon those terrible stone walls and fortifications, after being repulsed every time with more than half their number lying on the ground. The brave men, nothing daunted by their thinned ranks, advanced more fiercely on the foe—
Plunged in the battery’s smoke,Fiercely the line they broke;Strong was the saber stroke,Making an army reel.
But when it was proved to a demonstration that it was morally impossible to take and retain those heights, in consequence of the natural advantage of position which the rebels occupied, and still would occupy if they should fall back—whose fault was it that the attempt was made time after time, until the field was literally piled with dead and ran red with blood? We may truly say of the brave soldiers thus sacrificed—
Their’s not to reason why,Their’s not to make reply,Their’s but to do and die.
Among the many who fell in that dreadful battle perhaps there is none more worthy of notice than the brave and heroic Major Edward E. Sturtevant, of Keene, New Hampshire, who fell while leading the gallant Fifth in a charge upon the enemy. He was the first man in New Hampshire who enlistedfor the war. He was immediately authorized by the Governor to make enlistments for the First New Hampshire Volunteers, and was eminently successful. He held the commission of captain in the First Regiment, and afterwards was promoted major of the Fifth.
One of the leading papers of his native State has the following with regard to him: “He was in every battle where the regiment was engaged, nine or ten in number, besides skirmishes, and was slightly wounded at the battle of Fair Oaks. He commanded the regiment most of the time on the retreat from the Chickahominy to James river. The filial affection of the deceased was of the strongest character, and made manifest in substantial ways on many occasions. His death is the first in the household, and deep is the grief that is experienced there; but that grief will doubtless be mitigated by the consoling circumstance that the departed son and brother died in a service that will hallow his memory forever. A braver man or more faithful friend never yielded up his spirit amidst the clash of arms and the wail of the dying.”
I well remember the desperate charge which that brave officer made upon the enemy just before he fell, and the thinned and bleeding ranks of his men as they returned, leaving their beloved commander on the field, reminded me of the “gallant six hundred,” of whom Tennyson has written the following lines:
Stormed at with shot and shell,They that had struck so wellRode through the jaws of death,Half a league back againUp, from the mouth of hell—All that was left of them.
I have since had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with the bereaved family of the deceased, and deeply sympathize with them in the loss of one so noble, kind, and brave.
Major Sturtevant was the son of George W. Sturtevant, Esq., and nephew of Rev. David. Kilburn—one of the pioneers of Methodism—whom thousands will remember as a faithful and efficient minister of the Gospel.
During the progress of that battle I saw many strange sights—although I had been in many a fierce battle before. I never saw, till then, a man deliberately shoot himself, with his own pistol, in order to save the rebels the satisfaction of doing so, as it would seem.
As one brigade was ordered into line of battle, I saw an officer take out his pistol and shoot himself through the side—not mortally, I am sorry tosay, but just sufficient to unfit him for duty; so he was carried to the rear—he protesting that it was done by accident.
Another officer I saw there, a young and handsome lieutenant, disgrace his shoulder-straps by showing the white feather at the very moment when he was most needed.
I rode three miles with General H. to General Franklin’s headquarters, the second night we were at Fredericksburg, and of all the nights that I can recall to mind that was the darkest. On our way we had numerous ditches to leap, various ravines to cross, and mountains to climb, which can be better imagined than described. It was not only once or twice that horse and rider went tumbling into chasms head first, but frequently.
As we passed along, we stopped at the headquarters of General Bayard (General of Cavalry) a few minutes—found him enjoying a cup of coffee under a large tree, which constituted his headquarters. We called again when we returned, but he was cold in death, having been struck by a stray shot, and died in a short time. He was killed just where we had left him, under the tree. He was a splendid officer, and his removal was a great loss to the Federal cause. His death cast a gloom over his whole command which was deeply felt.
Of the wounded of this battle I can say but little, for my time was fully occupied in theresponsible duties which I had volunteered to perform; and so constantly was I employed, that I was not out of the saddle but once in twelve hours, and that was to assist an officer of the Seventy-ninth, who lay writhing in agony on the field, having been seized with cramps and spasms, and was suffering the most extreme pain. He was one of the brave and fearless ones, however, and in less than an hour, after having taken some powerful medicine which I procured for him, he was again on his horse, at the general’s side.
On going to the Church hospital in search of Doctor E., I saw an immense shell which had been sent through the building and fell on the floor, in the centre of those wounded and dying men who had just been carried off the field, and placed there for safety. But strange to say, it did not burst or injure any one, and was carried out and laid beside the mangled limbs which had been amputated in consequence of contact with just such instruments of death. I saw the remains of the Rev. A. B. Fuller, Chaplain of the Sixteenth Massachusetts, as they were removed to the camp. He was faithful to his trust, and died at his post.
On one of my necessary rides, in the darkness of that dreadful night, I passed by a grave-yard near by where our reserves were lying—and there, in that hour of darkness and danger, I heard the voice of prayer ascend. A group of soldiers were there holding communion with God—strengtheningtheir souls for the coming conflict. There are, scattered over the battle-fields and camping-grounds of this war, Bethels, consecrated to God, and sacred to souls who have wrestled and prevailed. This retirement was a grave-yard, with a marble slab for an altar, where that little band met to worship God—perhaps for the last time.
But among all the dead and wounded, I saw none who touched my heart so much as one beautiful boy, severely wounded; he was scarcely more than a child, and certainly a very attractive one. Some one writes the following, after he was sent to a hospital:
“Among the many brave, uncomplaining fellows who were brought up to the hospital from the battle of Fredericksburg, was a bright-eyed and intelligent youth, sixteen years old, who belonged to a northern regiment. He appeared more affectionate and tender, more refined and thoughtful than many of his comrades, and attracted a good deal of attention from the attendants and visitors. Manifestly the pet of some household which he had left, perhaps, in spite of entreaty and tears. He expressed an anxious longing for the arrival of his mother, who was expected, having been informed that he was mortally wounded, and failing fast. Ere she arrived, however, he died. But before the end, almost his last act of consciousness was the thought that she had really come; for, as a lady sat by his pillow and wipedthe death-dews from his brow, just as his sight was failing, he rallied a little, like an expiring taper in its socket, looked up longingly and joyfully, and in tones that drew tears from every eye whispered audibly, ‘Is that mother?’ Then drawing her toward him with all his feeble power, he nestled his head in her arms, like a sleeping child, and thus died, with the sweet word, ‘Mother,’ on his lips.”
Raise me in your arms, dear mother,Let me once more lookOn the green and waving willows,And the flowing brook;Hark, those strains of angel musicFrom the choirs above!Dearest mother, I am going,Truly “God is love.”
A council of war was held by our generals, and the conclusion arrived at that the enterprise should be abandoned, and that the army should recross the Rappahannock under cover of darkness. Everything was conducted in the most quiet manner; so quiet, indeed, that the enemy never suspected the movement, and the retreat was accomplished, and the bridges partially removed, before the fact was discovered.
AFTER THE BATTLE—SUFFERINGS OF THE WOUNDED—GENERAL BURNSIDE’S ORDER—“STUCK IN THE MUD”—HOOKER IN COMMAND—WESTERN CAMPAIGN—CAVALRY RECONNOISSANCE—ANOTHER DISGUISE—AGAIN IN DIXIE—A WEDDING PARTY—IN A TRAP—REBEL CONSCRIPT—ON THE MARCH—A REBEL CAPTAIN—A FIERCE ENGAGEMENT—AGAIN UNDER THE OLD FLAG—PAYING A DEBT OF GRATITUDE.
AFTER THE BATTLE—SUFFERINGS OF THE WOUNDED—GENERAL BURNSIDE’S ORDER—“STUCK IN THE MUD”—HOOKER IN COMMAND—WESTERN CAMPAIGN—CAVALRY RECONNOISSANCE—ANOTHER DISGUISE—AGAIN IN DIXIE—A WEDDING PARTY—IN A TRAP—REBEL CONSCRIPT—ON THE MARCH—A REBEL CAPTAIN—A FIERCE ENGAGEMENT—AGAIN UNDER THE OLD FLAG—PAYING A DEBT OF GRATITUDE.
Afterthe battle of Fredericksburg the weather was very cold, and the wounded suffered exceedingly—even after they were sent to Aquia Creek, and other places—for they could not all be provided for and made comfortable immediately. Our troops returned to their old camps in the mud, and remained stationary for several weeks, notwithstanding our daily orders were to be ready to march at a moment’s notice. The unnecessary slaughter of our men at Fredericksburg had a sad effect upon our troops, and the tone of the northern press was truly distressing. The wailing for the noble dead seemed wafted on every breeze, for
In the city, in the village,In the hamlet far away,Sit the mothers, watching, waiting,For their soldier boys to-day.They are coming, daily coming,One by one, and score by score,In their leaden casings folded,Underneath the flag they bore.
On the twentieth of January General Burnside issued the following order to the army, which was joyfully received; for of all places for an encampment, that seemed to be the most inconvenient and disagreeable:
Head-quarters, Army of the Potomac,Camp near Falmouth, Va., Jan. 20, 1863.General Orders—No. 7.The Commanding General announces to the Army of the Potomac that they are about to meet the enemy once more. The late brilliant actions in North Carolina, Tennessee and Arkansas, have divided and weakened the enemy on the Rappahannock, and the auspicious moment seems to have arrived to strike a great and mortal blow to the rebellion, and to gain that decisive victory which is due to the country.Let the gallant soldiers of so many brilliant battle-fields accomplish this achievement, and a fame the most glorious awaits them.The Commanding General calls for the firm and united action of officers and men, and, under the providence of God, the Army of the Potomac will have taken the great step towards restoringpeace to the country, and the Government to its rightful authority.By command ofMajor-General Burnside.Lewis Richmond,Assistant Adjutant-General.
Head-quarters, Army of the Potomac,Camp near Falmouth, Va., Jan. 20, 1863.
General Orders—No. 7.
The Commanding General announces to the Army of the Potomac that they are about to meet the enemy once more. The late brilliant actions in North Carolina, Tennessee and Arkansas, have divided and weakened the enemy on the Rappahannock, and the auspicious moment seems to have arrived to strike a great and mortal blow to the rebellion, and to gain that decisive victory which is due to the country.
Let the gallant soldiers of so many brilliant battle-fields accomplish this achievement, and a fame the most glorious awaits them.
The Commanding General calls for the firm and united action of officers and men, and, under the providence of God, the Army of the Potomac will have taken the great step towards restoringpeace to the country, and the Government to its rightful authority.
By command ofMajor-General Burnside.
Lewis Richmond,Assistant Adjutant-General.
Soon after this order was issued a portion of the army did really move—but the pontoons became “stuck in the mud,” and the troops returned again. In this manner the winter wore away, and a severe winter I thought it was; for in riding a distance of two miles, in two instances, I had my feet frozen.
General Hooker was now put in command of the Army of the Potomac, and Burnside, with the Ninth Army Corps, ordered to the Western department. Being desirous of leaving the Army of the Potomac, I now applied for permission to go with the Ninth Corps, which was granted. I did not go with the troops, however, but went to Washington first, and remained several days; then took the cars and proceeded to Louisville, Kentucky, and arrived there before the troops did.
The last entry in my journal, before leaving the Army of the Potomac, was as follows: “Theweatherdepartment is in perfect keeping with the War Department; its policy being to make as many changes as possible, and every one worse than the last. May God bless the old Army of the Potomac, and save it from total annihilation.”
On the arrival of the troops at Louisville, they were sent in detachments to different places—some to Bardstown, some to Lebanon, and others to guard different portions of the railroad.
The third day after my arrival I went out with a reconnoitering expedition, under command of General M. It was entirely composed of cavalry. We rode thirty-six miles that afternoon—the roads were splendid. When we were about twelve miles from our lines we changed our course and struck through the woods, fording creeks and crossing swamps, which was anything but pleasant.
After emerging from the thick undergrowth, on one occasion, we came upon an inferior force of the enemy’s cavalry; a sharp skirmish ensued, which resulted in the capture of five prisoners from the rebel band, and wounding several. Three of our men were slightly wounded, but we returned to Louisville in good order, and enjoyed the luxury of a good supper at a hotel, which is a rare thing in that city.
I took the cars the next day and went to Lebanon—dressed in one of the rebel prisoner’s clothes—and thus disguised, made another trip to rebeldom. My business purported to be buying up butter and eggs, at the farm-houses, for the rebel army. I passed through the lines somewhere, without knowing it; for on coming to a little village toward evening, I found it occupied by a strong force of rebel cavalry. The first houseI went to was filled with officers and citizens. I had stumbled upon a wedding party, unawares. Captain Logan, a recruiting officer, had been married that afternoon to a brilliant young widow whose husband had been killed in the rebel army a few months before. She had discovered that widow’s weeds were not becoming to her style of beauty, so had decided to appear once more in bridal costume, for a change.
I was questioned pretty sharply by the handsome captain in regard to the nature of my business in that locality, but finding me an innocent, straightforward Kentuckian, he came to the conclusion that I was all right. But he also arrived at the conclusion that I was old enough to be in the army, and bantered me considerably upon my want of patriotism.
The rebel soldier’s clothes which I wore did not indicate any thing more than that I was a Kentuckian—for their cavalry do not dress in any particular uniform, for scarcely two of them dress alike—the only uniformity being that they most generally dress in butternut color.
I tried to make my escape from that village as soon as possible, but just as I was beginning to congratulate myself upon my good fortune, who should confront me but Captain Logan. Said he: “See here, my lad; I think the best thing you can do is to enlist, and join a company which is just forming here in the village, and will leave inthe morning. We are giving a bounty to all who freely enlist, and are conscripting those who refuse. Which do you propose to do, enlist and get the bounty, or refuse, and be obliged to go without anything?” I replied, “I think I shall wait a few days before I decide.” “But we can’t wait for you to decide,” said the captain; “the Yankees may be upon us any moment, for we are not far from their lines, and we will leave here either to-night or in the morning early. I will give you two hours to decide this question, and in the mean time you must be put under guard.” So saying, he marched me back with him, and gave me in charge of the guards. In two or three hours he came for my decision, and I told him that I had concluded to wait until I was conscripted. “Well,” said he, “you will not have long to wait for that, so you may consider yourself a soldier of the Confederacy from this hour, and subject to military discipline.”
This seemed to me like pretty serious business, especially as I would be required to take the oath of allegiance to the Confederate Government. However, I did not despair, but trusted in Providence and my own ingenuity to escape from this dilemma also; and as I was not required to take the oath until the company was filled up, I was determined to be among the missing ere it became necessary for me to make any professions of loyalty to the rebel cause. I knew that if I shouldrefuse to be sworn into the service after I was conscripted, that in all probability my true character would be suspected, and I would have to suffer the penalty of death—and that, too, in the most barbarous manner.
I was glad to find that it was a company of cavalry that was being organized, for if I could once get on a good horse there would be some hope of my escape. There was no time to be lost, as the captain remarked, for the Yankees might make a dash upon us at any moment; consequently a horse and saddle was furnished me, and everything was made ready for a start immediately. Ten o’clock came, and we had not yet started. The captain finally concluded that, as everything seemed quiet, we would not start until daylight.
Music and dancing was kept up all night, and it was some time after daylight when the captain made his appearance. A few moments more and we were trotting briskly over the country, the captain complimenting me upon my horsemanship, and telling me how grateful I would be to him when the war was over and the South had gained her independence, and that I would be proud that I had been one of the soldiers of the Southern confederacy, who had steeped my saber in Yankee blood, and driven the vandals from our soil. “Then,” said he, “you will thank me for the interest which I have taken in you, and for thegentle persuasiveswhich I made use of to stirup your patriotism and remind you of your duty to your country.”
In this manner we had traveled about half an hour, when we suddenly encountered a reconnoitering party of the Federals, cavalry in advance, and infantry in the rear. A contest soon commenced; we were ordered to advance in line, which we did, until we came within a few yards of the Yankees.
The company advanced, but my horse suddenly became unmanageable, and it required a second or two to bring him right again; and before I could overtake the company and get in line the contending parties had met in a hand to hand fight.
All were engaged, so that when I, by accident, got on the Federal side of the line, none observed me for several minutes, except the Federal officer, who had recognized me and signed to me to fall in next to him. That brought me face to face with my rebel captain, to whom I owed such a debt of gratitude. Thinking this would be a good time to cancel all obligations in that direction, I discharged the contents of my pistol in his face.
PAYING A DEBT OF GRATITUDE.—Page 316.
This act made me the center of attraction. Every rebel seemed determined to have the pleasure of killing me first, and a simultaneous dash was made toward me and numerous saber strokes aimed at my head. Our men with one accord rushed between me and the enemy, and wardedoff the blows with their sabers, and attacked them with such fury that they were driven back several rods.
The infantry now came up and deployed as skirmishers, and succeeded in getting a position where they had a complete cross-fire on the rebels, and poured in volley after volley until nearly half their number lay upon the ground. Finding it useless to fight longer at such a disadvantage they turned and fled, leaving behind them eleven killed, twenty-nine wounded, and seventeen prisoners.
The confederate captain was wounded badly but not mortally; his handsome face was very much disfigured, a part of his nose and nearly half of his upper lip being shot away. I was sorry, for the graceful curve of his mustache was sadly spoiled, and the happy bride of the previous morning would no longer rejoice in the beauty of that manly face and exquisite mustache of which she seemed so proud, and which had captivated her heart ere she had been three months a widow.
Our men suffered considerable loss before the infantry came up, but afterward scarcely lost a man. I escaped without receiving a scratch, but my horse was badly cut across the neck with a saber, but which did not injure him materially, only for a short time.
After burying the dead, Federal and rebel, we returned to camp with our prisoners and wounded,and I rejoiced at having once more escaped from the confederate lines.
I was highly commended by the commanding general for my coolness throughout the whole affair, and was told kindly and candidly that I would not be permitted to go out again in that vicinity, in the capacity of spy, as I would most assuredly meet with some of those who had seen me desert their ranks, and I would consequently be hung up to the nearest tree.
Not having any particular fancy for such an exalted position, and not at all ambitious of having my name handed down to posterity among the list of those who “expiated their crimes upon the gallows,” I turned my attention to more quiet and less dangerous duties.
Then sweet thoughts of home came stealing over my mind, and I exclaimed:
Adieu, dear land,With beauty teeming,Where first I roved a careless child;Of thee my heartWill e’er be dreaming—Thy snow-clad peaks and mountains wild.Dear land, that I cherish,O, long may’st thou flourish!My memory must perishEre I forget thee.
APPOINTED DETECTIVE—I VISIT LOUISVILLE—SECESH ACQUAINTANCES—SEEKING EMPLOYMENT—PEDDLING—REBEL SPIES—ACTING AS CLERK—TRAPPING SPIES—START FOR VICKSBURG—PRO-SLAVERY TROOPS—CRUELTY TO NEGROES—VISITING HOSPITALS—TOUCHING SCENES—AN ARMLESS SOLDIER—PATIENT SUFFERING—TRIUMPHANT DEATH—RALLY ROUND THE FLAG—WESTERN CHAPLAINS—SOLDIERS’ TESTIMONY—EFFECT OF PRAYER IN BATTLE—CARRYING THE WOUNDED.
APPOINTED DETECTIVE—I VISIT LOUISVILLE—SECESH ACQUAINTANCES—SEEKING EMPLOYMENT—PEDDLING—REBEL SPIES—ACTING AS CLERK—TRAPPING SPIES—START FOR VICKSBURG—PRO-SLAVERY TROOPS—CRUELTY TO NEGROES—VISITING HOSPITALS—TOUCHING SCENES—AN ARMLESS SOLDIER—PATIENT SUFFERING—TRIUMPHANT DEATH—RALLY ROUND THE FLAG—WESTERN CHAPLAINS—SOLDIERS’ TESTIMONY—EFFECT OF PRAYER IN BATTLE—CARRYING THE WOUNDED.
Beingprohibited from further explorations in that region outside of our lines, I was appointed to act as detective inside of the lines, as there were many spies in our midst who were daily giving information to the enemy, and had baffled all attempts at discovery.
I forthwith dressed in citizen’s clothes and proceeded to Louisville, and there mingled freely with the citizens, visited the different places of public resort, and made many secesh acquaintances.
At length I found a merchant who was the most bitter in his denunciations of the Yankees that it has ever been my lot to meet, and I thought he would be a pretty good person to assist me in my undertakings. Stepping into his store one morning I inquired if he was in need of a clerk. He replied that he would require help in a few days, as one of his clerks was going to leave.
Then came the interrogatory process—Who was I, where did I come from, and what had brought me to that city? Well, I was a foreigner, and wishing to see a little of this great American war, I had come “down South;” and now that I was here, finding myself scarce of money, I would like to find some employment. This was literally true. I was a foreigner, and very often scarce of money, and really wished him to employ me.
He finally told me that I might come in the course of a week; but that did not suit my purpose, so I told him I would rather come at once, as I would be learning considerable before the other clerk went away; adding that he might give me just whatever he pleased for the first week’s work. That seemed to suit him and I was at once set to work.
After I had been there several days, I was asked how I would like to go out to the nearest camp and sell some small articles to the soldiers. I would like it much; so was sent accordingly with an assortment of pocket knives, combs and suspenders. By the middle of the afternoon I had sold out my stock in trade, returned to the store, and gave a good account of myself and of the goods intrusted to my care.
My employer was pleased with my success and seemed interested in me, and each day brought some new proof of his confidence. Things went on this way for two weeks, in which time I hadsucceeded, by the good merchant’s assistance, in finding a clue to three rebel spies then within our lines.
I was often questioned by my employer with regard to my political sentiments, but of course I did not know anything about politics—in fact I hardly knew how to apply the terms Federal and Confederate, and often misapplied them when talking in the store, and was frequently told that I must not call the d—d Yankees, Confederates, and all due pains were taken to instruct me, and give me a proper insight into the true state of affairs, as seen by Southern secessionists.
At last I expressed a desire to enter the Confederate service, and asked the merchant how I should manage to get through the Yankee lines if I should decide to take such a step. After a long conversation, and much planning, we at last decided that I should go through our lines the next night with a person who was considered by our troops a thorough Union man, as he had taken the oath of allegiance to the Federal Government—but who was in reality a rebel spy.
That afternoon I was sent out again to dispose of some goods to the soldiers, and while I was gone took the favorable opportunity of informing the Provost Marshal of my intended escape the following night together with my brother spy.
After telling him that I might not be able to leave the store again with any more definiteinformation without incurring suspicion, and that he had better send some one to the store at a certain hour the next day to purchase some trifle, so that I might inclose in the parcel the necessary information, I went back to the store, and my clever employer told me that I had better not trouble myself any more about anything, but get ready for my journey. Having but little preparation to make, however, I soon returned to the store.
Not long after a gentleman came in, to whom I was introduced, and was told that this was the person who proposed to conduct me through the lines. He was not announced in his true character, but I understood at once that this gentlemanly personage was no less than the spy before referred to. He questioned me pretty sharply, but I being “slow of speech,” referred him to the merchant, whose eloquence had convinced me of my duty to the Southern confederacy.
My employer stood beside me and gave him a brief history of our acquaintance and of his confidence in me; also of his own peculiar faculty of impressing the truth upon unprejudiced minds.
The spy evidently took me for a poor green boy whom the merchant had flattered into the idea of becoming a soldier, but who did not realize the responsibility of my position, and I confirmed him in that opinion by saying—“Well, I suppose if I don’t like soldiering they will let me go home again?”
The Provost Marshal himself came in during the day, and I had my document ready informing him what time we would start and what direction we were to take.
The night came, and we started about nine o’clock. As we walked along toward the rebel lines the spy seemed to think that I was a true patriot in the rebel cause, for he entertained me with a long conversation concerning his exploits in the secret service; and of the other two who were still in camp he said one of them was a sutler, and the other sold photographs of our generals.
We were pursuing our way in the darkness, talking in a low, confidential tone, when suddenly a number of cavalry dashed upon us and took us both prisoners. As soon as we were captured we were searched, and documents found on my companion which condemned him as a spy. We were then marched back to Louisville and put under guard. The next morning he was taken care of, and I was sent to General M.’s headquarters.
The next thing to be done was to find the other two spies. The sutler was found and put under arrest, and his goods confiscated, but the dealer in photographs had made his escape.
I never dared go back to Louisville again, for I had ample reason to believe that my life would pay the penalty if I did.
About this time the Ninth Army Corps was ordered to Vicksburg, where General Grant had already commenced his siege. While the troops waited at the depot for transportation a little incident occurred which illustrates the spirit of the Kentucky soldiers on the slavery question.
Two of our Kentucky regiments were stationed as guards at the depot, and on this occasion were amusing themselves by throwing stones at every poor negro who had occasion to pass within a stone’s throw of them.
A Michigan regiment marched into the depot on its way to Vicksburg, and along with it some smart, saucy darkies, in the capacity of servants. The native soldiers began the same game with them, by throwing stones at and abusing them; but the Michigan men informed them that “if they did not stop that kind of business immediately they would find more work on hand than they could attend to,” as they considered their servants a necessary part of their regiment, and would not permit them to be abused or insulted any more than if they were white men.
This gave rise to a warm discussion between the troops, and ended in the Kentuckians forbidding and prohibiting the different regiments from taking a negro with them from the State under any circumstances. Of course this incensed our patriotic troops, and in five minutes they were in line of battle arrayed against their pro-slavery brethrenin arms. But before blood was shed the commander of the post was informed, and hastened to the spot to prevent further mischief. When the case was fully made known to him he could not settle the matter, for he was a Kentuckian by birth, and his sympathies were with the native troops—yet he knew if he should decide in their favor that a bloody fight would be the consequence, as the troops still remained in line of battle awaiting the decision of the commander. He finally told them that they must remain there until he telegraphed to the headquarters of the department and received an answer. Consequently the troops were detained two days waiting for the despatch that would decide the contest. The men became tired of the fun and marched back to camp.
In consequence of this affair the poor negroes fared worse than ever, and the troops had no sooner gone back to camp than the Kentuckians swore they would hang every “nigger” that came into their camp.
During the day I was passing through the depot, and saw a little black urchin selling cakes and pies, who had no sooner made his appearance than the guards took his basket away from him. The boy commenced to cry, when four of the soldiers took hold of him, each one taking hold of a hand or foot, and pulled him almost limb from limb—just as I have seen cruel schoolboys torture frogs.When they threw him on the ground he could neither speak, cry, nor walk, but there he lay a little quivering, convulsive heap of pain and misery.
The telegram came at last, and the troops were permitted to depart in peace—taking with them their colored friends, to the chagrin of the Kentucky guards.
Before reaching Vicksburg I visited several hospitals where the wounded had been brought from those terrible battles preceding the siege of Vicksburg, where thousands lay, with all conceivable sorts of wounds.
Several I saw without either arms or legs, having been torn and mangled by shell so that it was impossible to save even a single limb—and yet they lived, and would probably recover.
One handsome young man lay on one of the hospital boats who had lost both arms—a most noble specimen of the patient, cheerful, suffering soldier.
Of this young man the Rev. Mr. Savage writes: “There he lay upon his cot, armless, and knowing that this must be his condition through life; but yet with a cheerful, happy countenance, and not a single word of complaint. I ministered to his wants, and as I cut up fruit in mouthfuls, and put them in his mouth, he would say, ‘Well, now, how good that is! How kind of you! The Lord will bless you for it. I don’t see why you are so kindto me. As if any one could be too kind to a man who had suffered such a loss in defense of his country. His soul seemed to be resting peacefully upon Jesus amid all his great sufferings. One thing touched me exceedingly: As I spoke of his feelings, the tears coursed down his cheeks and lay upon them. He had no hands with which even to wipe away the tears from his own face; and as I took a handkerchief and tenderly performed this office, that beautiful passage of scripture occurred to me with a force it never did before: ‘and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.’”
Near by lay another young man, an officer, mortally wounded—fast breathing his life away—he seemed unconscious of his dying state. I asked the nurse, in a low whisper, if he knew he was dying, but before the nurse could reply, he looked up with a smile, and said: “Yes, yes, I know it. Praise God! there is not a cloud between my soul and Jesus. I am waiting—I—waiting—.” These were his last words. A few moments more and his tongue was silent in death.
But he’s gone to rest in heaven above,To sing his Saviour’s praise.
One of the military agents at Nashville relates a most thrilling incident, which he witnessed in a hospital at that place. He says:
“Last evening, when passing by the post hospital, my attention was arrested by the singing, inrather a loud voice, of ‘Rally round the flag, boys,’ by one of the patients inside. While listening to the beautiful music of that popular song, I observed to a nurse standing in the door-way, that the person singing must be in a very merry mood, and could not be very sick. ‘You are mistaken, sir,’ said he; ‘the poor fellow engaged in singing that good old song is now grappling with death—has been dying all day. I am his nurse,’ he continued, ‘and the scene so affected me that I was obliged to leave the room. He is just about breathing his last.’
“I stepped into the ward, and true enough, the brave man was near his end. His eyes were already fixed in death. He was struggling with all his remaining strength against the grim monster, while at the same time there gushed forth from his patriotic soul incoherently the words: ‘Rally round the flag, boys,’ which had so often cheered him through his weary march, and braced him up when entering the field of blood in defense of his country. Finally he sank away into his death-slumber, and joined his Maker’s command, that is marching onward to that far-off, better land. The last audible sound that escaped his lips was, ‘Rally boys, rally once again!’ As his eyes were closing, some dozen of his comrades joined in a solemn, yet beautiful hymn, appropriate to the occasion. Take it altogether, this was one of the most affecting scenes I have ever witnessed in a hospital. Itdrew tears copiously from near one hundred of us. It occurred in the large ward which occupies the entire body of the church on Cherry street. The deceased was an Illinoisan, and had been wounded in one of the recent skirmishes.”
I noticed in the Western department that the chaplains were much more faithful to their trust, and attentive to the sick and wounded, than the chaplains in the Army of the Potomac—taking them as a class.
One man in speaking of his chaplain, said: “He is one of the best men in the world; he has a temperance meeting once a week, a prayer meeting twice a week, and other meetings as he is able to hold them; and then he labors personally among the men. He also comforts the sick and dying. I saw him with one of our comrades before he died, watching and praying with him; and when he died, he closed his eyes and prepared him for the grave with his own hands.”
Another said: “Over at Frederickstown, as our lines were beginning to give way, and many thought the day was lost, our chaplain stepped right out from the ranks, between us and the enemy’s lines, knelt down upon the ground, and lifted up his voice in most earnest prayer to God for divine help in that hour of need. I never felt so in all my life as I did at that moment. An inspiration, as from God, seemed to seize us all; we rallied, charged, drove the enemy before us, andgained the important victory at Frederickstown, which perhaps has saved to us the State of Mississippi.”
And yet another soldier gave testimony like the following, with regard to a chaplain who had followed his regiment through every battle in which it had participated. Said he: “He was with us day after day, and as soon as a man fell wounded, he would take him up in his arms and carry him out where the surgeon could take care of him; and the last day I saw him, his clothes, from head to foot, were literally dripping with the blood of dead and wounded men that he had carried from the battle-field.”
This noble chaplain reminds me of a brave soldier in the Army of the Potomac, who was in the hottest of the battle at Antietam, where the bullets were sweeping like death-hail through the ranks. The line wavered; there were strong symptoms of falling back on the part of his regiment. This man rushed toward the color-bearer, who stood hesitating, seized the standard and advanced with firm and rapid step several paces in front of the foremost man; then thrusting down the flag-staff into the ground he looked up at the banner, then at the wavering line, and said—“There, boys, come up to that!”