AFTER STEAMBOATS AGAIN—A MOUNTAIN NYMPH—BOB. WHITE, THE UNION BUSHWHACKER.
Leaving Bridgeport, I once more was off on my steamboat exploits, and as I was crossing over Walden's ridge, about fifteen miles below Chattanooga, at the top of the "cut off" I heard a very long, and loud scream, or more like an exultant yell. Thinking of nothing but bushwhackers in that locality, I "treed" instanter, and stood with my gun at a "ready" to fire on any suspicious object. Soon the sound of a horse's feet, coming almost toward me at a run, roused me to renewed vigilance, that I might get the first shot; for I made sure it was some rebel cavalryman. I was not kept long in suspense, however, for in a few seconds a magnificent horse bounded into view, mounted by a beautiful young woman, who was riding "man fashion," or, as the little boys say, "astraddle," utterly unconscious of observation. Her long, brown hair was streaming in the wind, as she was without bonnet or shawl; her short sleeves and low necked dress, left a beautiful neck, plump arms, and a voluptuous bosom, partially, but not immodestly exposed, while the skirts of her dress being drawn up by her peculiar position on the horse, exposed limbs perfect in development, and of dazzling whiteness. She was singing, in a clear musical voice, snatches of some song which she occasionally stopped, to give a shrill whoop at a half wild cow she was driving before her, at a fearful rate through the thick timber. She rode her horse with a fearless grace, and a firm hand, guiding the spirited beast by a rope halter turned into a loop around his nose. She soon vanished from my view, to the left, following a well beaten trail which I was confident must lead to a house. So quick did she come and go, and so beautiful did she appear, galloping away through the green woods with such a happy gracefulness, and fearless air, that I could almost imagine that I had seen a real nymph of the mountain.
"It was a fearful ride in the dark, as several of the cascades were five or six feet from top to bottom, and one, known as the "big jump," was ten feet in perpendicular hight."—Page325.
Followingthe trail she took, in about a mile and a half I came to a house. A panting horse, of magnificent proportions, had just been turned loose in the yard to graze, and I instantly recognized it as the one I had seen careering so proudly through the woods with the fair rider. I at once went to the house, and at the door was welcomed by a pleasant looking matron, who invited me in, and treated me with much civility, as soon as I told her that I was a Yankee soldier and wanted lodgings. Soon after, the fair equestrienne came in with a bucket of milk on her head, "nigger" fashion. There was no poetry in that, it is true; but she was really very pretty, and as she placed her bucket of milk on the table, the elder woman addressed her:
"Eliza, here is one ofoursoldiers come to see us at last."
Then turning to me, she said:
"Stranger, what is your name?"
I told her my name and regiment, and asked what her husband's name was, and judge of my astonishment when she answered "Bob White"—he whose patriotic efforts in behalf of the Union, were a theme of admiration far and wide, in that section of Tennessee. He was what the rebels called a Yankee bushwhacker, and was a great terror to small bands of rebel cavalry who had to pass any where through the Sequatchie valley. He had about thirty men under his command, and sometimes could raise as many as sixty, on special occasions.
While my hostess was preparing supper for me, she and her sister were full of curiosity to hear from the north, and especially what our expectations were in regard to the rebellion, and our hopes of maintaining the Federal Union. I gave them the best satisfaction I could, consistent with duty; and they were much pleased to hear that our numbers were so great, and our army so well appointed, and expressed the most encouraging hopes of our final success.
Supper dispatched, I went to bed, as I was very tired. I hadjust got well off on a scout to the land of dreams, when I was aroused by the sound of horse's feet. The reader will understand that on these trips I never undressed, and sometimes slept with all my accoutrements on. The two women had put me to sleep in a room separated from theirs by an entry; and at the sound of horses, I sprang out of bed and bounded noiselessly to the door and tried to open it quietly; but lo! it refused to open; and on stooping down and peering through the crack between the door and the wall of the cabin, I found it was fastened by a strong chain, which was passed through a hole in the door, and around the facing between the logs, and was locked on the outside with a strong padlock. There was no time to lose, so turning to the window—a single sash, held in by two nails,—I broke the latter off, and laying the sash on the bed, I jumped out on the ground and ran behind the house as the men hailed the inmates at the front door; and peering around the corner, I discovered a large squad of rebel cavalry; Mrs. White answered them at the door.
"Was there a man passed here about dark, afoot and dressed in Yankee uniform?" they inquired.
"Why, yes, there was," said Mrs. White; "he stopped at my house, and got his supper, about dark, and as soon as he was done his supper, he left to go the 'cut off' way to Chattanooga."
"Who did he say he was?" was next asked.
"Why, he told us that he was a Georgian, and that he was going home."
"You say he went the 'cut off?'" said the officer, interrogatively.
"Well, now, I don't know for certain that he did go that way, but he told us that he was going by the 'suck,' and, of course, he would be obliged to go the 'cut off' from here."
With a polite "Thank you, madam," the officer rode away, followed by his men, some twenty in number. Waiting to see the last of them disappear over the brow of the mountain, I crept back through the window and replaced the sash again, and was soon sound asleep. Nothing more occurred to rouse me tillmidnight, except that one of the women opened the door cautiously, and looked in, I suppose to see if I had been disturbed. I feigned to be asleep, and she closed the door and locked it again. Near midnight, I was again awakened by the sound of approaching horses; and as they halted at the door, I again removed the sash, and jumped out of the window. This party hallooed and Mrs. White asked: "Who's there?" and one of the men answered: "Mack."
I peeped around the log house again, and discovered eight resolute men, all well mounted, and armed to the teeth.
"Is that you, McArthur," said the woman.
"Yes, come out a minute," he said.
She hastily dressed herself, and throwing a shawl around her shoulders, went fearlessly out to see them. Their conversation was carried on in a low tone—so low that I could only catch a few words now and then.
"We heard of him down at the foot of the mountain," they said presently, in a louder tone, as if to end an argument; "Well, tell him to come out here, we want to see him."
"Oh, boys, let him sleep," pleaded the woman, "for I know he's tired; besides, I am certain he is a Yankee, for he was talking to me and Eliza, until he got so sleepy he couldn't hold his head up."
"Oh, there are a heap of men claims to be Yankees now," said Mack; "tell him to come out."
I now walked out to them, for I was certain they were some of Bob White's men. They were very frank, telling me their suspicions; but I had no trouble in satisfying them that I was all right, and a friend; and then, after inquiring of the woman whose company of rebels it was that had passed, the whole party rode on in the same course they had gone.
This party had a good looking young woman with them, who was piloting them over in the valley, to catch a notorious guerrilla, by the name of Pickett; and the men vowed they would hang him if they caught him. When they had gone away, I asked Mrs. White what made her lock me up in the room:
"Why, you know," she said, "in these troublesome times a body never knows who they can trust; and you know we had no men folks about the house, for Bob is gone over the river, on a scout for Gen. Rosecrans."
I now got along without further disturbance till next morning, when, after a good breakfast I resumed my journey, feeling very grateful to my generous hostess, who refused pay almost indignantly.
At the mouth of Soddy creek is a place called Penny's Ford. The rebels were picketing on the south bank, and on the north lived a very old woman, named Martin, in a house entirely alone. Some of our prisoners, who had escaped from the south side of the river, crossed over at Penny's Ford, and the old lady had fed and secreted them, till they got strong enough to travel. Of this the Johnnies had heard, and to show theirchivalry, I suppose; would amuse themselves by shooting at her. It was at long range—about nine hundred yards—and to have hit her, would have been mere accident. Every time she showed herself, they would vault a ball over, more, probably, to see the old woman run, than with any other object in view. She stood out nobly, for several days; but, finally, one time, while sitting in the door of the cabin, knitting, a ball struck the door facing, about four inches from her head, and this so frightened her, that she closed her house, and went to live with the old man Penny, where I heard her relate her story.
I went down the river bank, and halloed across the stream, to the Johnnies, who immediately answered; and one of them, bolder than the rest, ran down to the edge of the water and asked what I would have. Without answering his question, I fired a shot at him, from my rifle, putting my sight up to eight hundred yards. It seemed a long time going, but presently the rebel stooped to dodge the whistling bullet, and I saw that I had over shot; so I aimed again, and discharged my piece, holding this time full on his head. He was standing erect when I did so, holding to a willow bush, with his left hand, and his gun in his right; and after a long time the ball reached its destination,and I had the satisfaction to see the Johnny tumble headlong on the sand, his gun flying several steps from him. I then had it hot and heavy for a while. His company, concealed by the woods on their side, made the balls rattle on the bank where I was, cutting the trees up cruelly, but doing no further harm, for I was hidden in a deep ravine where I was perfectly safe; and from which I could fire on them leisurely, whenever I got a good "sight."
After having my own fun with them for an hour, I took the road to Colonel Cliffs', on Sail creek. He was a Colonel in our army, and I was told, at one time was on General Burnside's staff. He was at that time away from home, on duty; but I was hospitably welcomed by his family. I stopped here for two or three different nights, on the last being hunted out by fifteen or twenty rebels; I fortunately, however, received notice of their coming before they got in sight of the house, and moved my quarters promptly.
While in that part of East Tennessee, I was fortunate enough to hear a real, heartfelt sermon, preached in favor of the Union; and the services were closed with an ardent prayer for the President of the United States, his advisers and counsellors; for Congress and the success and welfare of our armies in the field. There was no milk and water, nor soft solder about it; but it was a real old fashioned, upright, square-toed Union sermon. The preacher was an old, white-haired man, and his crowded congregation were, for most part, of venerable age. The meeting took place after night, and as there was danger of it being disturbed or broken up by straggling rebels, I was invited to be present. Every man was armed; and this meeting took place in a country where some men say there were no Union men!
From this neighborhood I went to Chattanooga, which was now being invested by the army of the Cumberland. On the north side of the river was Colonel Wilder's famous brigade, and I reported to the Colonel, and was sent by him with a dispatch to Bridgeport, where General Rosecrans was supposed to be. I had walked since morning from above the mouth of Soddycreek, a distance of thirty-three miles; and the same evening I started from the camp before Chattanooga, to Bridgeport, a distance of fifty-four miles, over a rough mountain road. At Bridgeport I found the General, and reported to him, and learned that the cavalry were a long way in the advance of the infantry, and that it would be impossible for me to overtake them; so, after receiving orders to "knock around loose," I put out over Raccoon mountains. These mountains are the lower or southern range of the Allagheny mountains, and are high, steep and rugged, while lower down the country, they are called the Sand mountains. It is a ridge of a very irregular shape, and extends from a point where the Tennessee forces its way between it and Walden's ridge, on the north side, to Blountville, Alabama. Its many recesses and deep forests have always made it a constant place of resort for bushwhackers. In it is the celebrated Nickajack cave, one of the largest in the United States. Over this mountain a part of the army had already toiled, and the road was strewn with wrecks of wagons, splintered wheels, broken harness, crippled horses left to die, and poor broken down men who were unable to keep up in the impetuous march that would allow of no delay. On they were toiling over the mountain toward Trenton, in the hope of overtaking their commands at that place; but I fear it was a vain hope for some of them, for they seemed very much exhausted.
Trenton is a small town in Georgia, and is the county seat of Dade county. It is situated in a fine valley between Raccoon mountain on the west, and Lookout mountain on the east; and the valley is watered by Lookout river, and several creeks. Here General Reynolds was encamped, and I slept there till morning, and then pushed on for the advance. I passed Sheridan's division, and the next was General Negley's command. Learning from General Lytle, of Sheridan's division, that General Negley was to lead the advance, I concluded to report to him for duty, and found his division encamped on Lookout river, in the valley between Lookout and Raccoon mountains, at the foot of Johnson's crook, a narrow and meandering defile that ledup the precipitous sides of Lookout mountain to Stevens' gap. It was a terrible undertaking to put an army up into that gap, as a handful of men might defend it against a host. It was held by Wharton, with a Division of cavalry, mostly Texans; and Negley was to scale the mountain with his Division and take possession of it. General Stanley was hovering on the enemy's communications far down in Georgia, in the neighborhood of Alpine, Broomtown, and other points, almost, and at one particular time, quite in rear of Lafayette; and at the same time, Gen. McCook, with his corps, was toiling over Lookout at Niels' gap, between the cavalry and Thomas' corps and Stevens' gap, his being the right of our infantry. Reynolds crossed over with his Division, if I remember rightly, at Doherty's gap, while Crittenden's corps moved up the railroad around the north end of the mountain, and General Wagner continued to threaten Chattanooga in front with Wilder's and Minty's brigades of cavalry. Chattanooga lays in the wide end of a Y, formed by Lookout on the west, and Pigeon mountains on the east; the north end of Lookout rising about one mile and a half from the west side of the town. Pigeon mountain is a spur of Lookout, which projects itself over to the Tennessee, about four miles east of Chattanooga. For about one half its length, it retains the name of Pigeon mountain; while the north end of it is called Missionary Ridge. In the Pigeon mountains are three gaps, besides the one right at its junction with Lookout, the most southern of which is Bluebird gap, the middle being called Dug gap, while the most northern is known McCowan's gap; and the intermediate valley between these two mountains is named Maclamore's cove. It is, at Dug gap, about nine miles wide, running to a point at the south end, while at the north end, at Chattanooga, it is about five and a half or six miles in width. The railroads running from Chattanooga to Knoxville and to Atlanta, pass through Mission Ridge at the north end; after which one keeps on up the Tennessee to Knoxville, while the other turns down on the east side of the ridge to Lafayette, the first point to which the enemy was compelled toretreat, and which is situated about six miles east of Dug gap, bearing a little south.
The reader will bear in mind that I knew nothing of the plan of the campaign, beyond what was developed on the field, and what was patent to all. I had passed in two days from our left, near Cottonport, Tenn., where I saw a part of Minty's brigade, of the 2d Division of cavalry, down to Chattanooga, where was Colonel Wilder's famous brigade, with General Wagner, and some force of infantry and artillery, busily engaged in shelling the place; thence to Bridgeport, where the commanding General was with a few troops, just preparing to go to Trenton, then already in the hands of Reynolds' Division; I also passed the 33d Ohio on the opposite side of the river, and saw Crittenden's troops ferrying the stream about the mouth of Battle creek; and from the top of Raccoon beheld the most of our center and right encamped opposite the respective gaps, where they were to scale Lookout mountain, and from whence they were to be hurled like an avalanche down, down from the giddy hights of that cloud-capped range in resistless columns into the valley, where they were to deploy in line, and sweep across upon the unprotected flank of the enemy, who were then in full retreat. The plan was certainly projected by a master mind, and had it been properly executed, would have proven the death blow of Bragg's army. After having gained his object, itseemedto be the intention of the General to draw his men in quietly, and without bloodshed, into the fortifications around Chattanooga; and had the entire command been properly handled, nothing could have transpired to thwart the design.
General Negley began his ascent of the mountain early in the morning of the 9th of September, I believe, and by noon had his whole command camped on top of the mountain, and here he sent me out to reconnoiter. It was a pretty long and dangerous tramp, but I made it safely, and discovered that Wharton's command was on the opposite side of the gap. The advance of the division was soon followed by the balance of Thomas' corps, and at the same time Gen. McCook was scaling the heights at Neil'sgap, twelve miles below, and Crittenden's was moving round and over the north end of the mountain, while Gen. Stanley was threatening La Fayette from Broom Town valley, almost in rear of the rebel army. On the 10th the army was fairly bivouacked in the clouds, on the top of Lookout, which is very broad; in some places being four miles wide. Heavy clouds are constantly hanging over and lapping down upon the summit, and if it be a damp day, the top and sides are completely enveloped in the lower clouds. It is not, however, a high mountain, being only fourteen hundred and sixty feet perpendicular, I believe, above the level of the Tennessee river.
I believe we rested a day on top, and scouted out the summit, while in the afternoon Col. Stoughton with his regiment went down the gap to drive back the enemy, in order that our engineers could repair the road. I was sent out again toward night, and passing through Stoughton's command and the rebel skirmish line at a dead run under fire of both sides, I gained unharmed the top of a very high spur of Lookout. I was aided in this by the dust raised by the rebel cavalry, while the fire was going on, and by the darkness after the fight was over. I clambered over cliffs during the night, to gain the top, over which, next morning, I could not look without getting on my hands and knees. It was risky work, but it was in a good cause, and was of advantage to the service, which was enough. At the first crowing of the chickens I was on my feet, waiting for light enough to see the valley below. The view extended all over Maclamore's Cove, and is one of the finest landscapes I ever beheld. Far to the left—perhaps sixteen or eighteen miles—could be seen the hights around Chattanooga, while directly in front was the range called Pigeon mountain, together with McCowan's gap, Dug gap, and Bluebird gap—all clearly revealed by the light in the east. I had a splendid signal glass with which I could see very minute objects in Dug gap, and I discovered that it was well defended by rifle pits and artillery—two batteries being distinctly visible; while in rear of the gap rose a hill that thoroughly overlooked it, and on the crown of this hill was anextensive earthwork, running its whole length, and I counted within it sixteen guns. On the side of this hill I could see a great many brush shanties, with light, fleecy smoke rising above them, thus clearly indicating that they were occupied.
From the top of the mountain I descended by a very precipitous and rocky ravine, the bed of which in the wet season was a roaring torrent, but now shrunk to a little babbling brook, that found its source on the top of the mountain at some boggy springs I had passed. At the foot of the mountain I discovered a house nearly at the mouth of the gorge. I made for it, at first, with the intention of quizzing the people, to see what they knew about the enemy's movements; but when within a few hundred yards of the place, I discovered a man sitting in the hall or porch, which lay between the wings. He was leaning back, with his right leg thrown over his left knee, while opposite him, and leaning against the other wall, sat a beautiful young lady. I knew he was a Texan by his free and easy lounging style.
Running noiselessly in the bed of the ravine, under the cover of its bank, I stepped up out of it behind a huge tree, about sixty yards from the house. Now, if I shot the fellow there, the woman would take conniptions, so I thought I would scare him out, and then shoot him. I stepped back into the ravine, and hid myself, and then fired a shot in the air, and it had the desired effect. He rose, and walking out to where his horse was tied, picked up his bridle, and began to put it on. I got up behind my tree again, and shouted: "Don't you put that bridle on that horse!" He paid no attention, but as he approached the animal's head I recognized him. His name was Bowers, and he had served with me in Texas. Leisurely he adjusted his bridle, even taking time to buckle the throat-latch. Again I shouted to him to "put down that bridle," but he paid no attention to me whatever.
As he stepped to the side of his horse, I ordered him not to mount; but slowly, and without the least excitement, he swung himself into the saddle. I wanted to save him, and so I cried "Halt!" loud enough to be heard half a mile; but he turnedquietly from me, as if to show his contempt for danger, and I was compelled to fire on him, or allow him to escape to the enemy, and report. Taking a good rest, against a tree, I fired full on his back; and we were in such close proximity, that I could see the hole made by the bullet. His horse sprang off into the woods, but he clung to the saddle, although in the agonies of death.
Hearing others on the opposite side of the house, I at once began to play officer, and deploy skirmishers at "double quick;" and so completely successful was the ruse, that the rebels did not await the development of my plans, but skedaddled as rapidly as possible in the direction of Dug gap, taking with them the wounded man, whom they left at the next house, where he died.
I missed getting his horse, which was a very fine one; as the intelligent animal, with his dying rider, ran steadily along with the horses rode by the others for over a mile, and until they reached the house indicated, where the wounded man was left to die. I was at the house an hour afterward, but found that the horse and equipments had been taken off, and that an ambulance had also been sent for the body, and that it, too, had been conveyed to the rebel camp.
After this, I hurried over to the road by which our army was to descend the rugged mountain, and found Col. Stoughton's regiment in the valley, where they had skirmished the night before, and then prepared my report for the General, in writing, and forwarded it to him from the skirmish lines.
BATTLES OF DUG GAP AND CHICKAMAUGA.
We had not been skirmishing more than an hour, before the army began to pour down the steep, rocky, dusty road. On they came, winding to and fro, down the serpentine road, now enveloped in clouds of fog, then emerging from the mist, their bright arms and brass trappings glittering in the sun; now submerged beneath a dense cloud of dust, they would again remain hidden for a time, till it was lifted off by a passing breeze, and again the mighty army, as if by magic, would stand out in full view before the beholder, martialing for the fray below.
The rebels beheld them in terror, and they fled in confusion in the direction of Dug gap, leaving only a small cavalry force to skirmish with our advance. Gen. Negley then pushed a regiment or two out on the road, as far as Davis' cross roads, to feel the enemy, and ascertain his position. The reconnoissance was gallantly conducted—the rebels disputing every foot of the ground; and as soon as the reconnoitering party began to fall back, they hung upon its rear, until we gained our old position, at the foot of Lookout mountain.
Early in the morning the General advanced with his whole division upon Dug gap, when the enemy's cavalry again disputed our progress, and the same ground was once more fought over, till we reached Davis' cross roads, at which place our army rested for an hour. The men being refreshed, pushed on again for the gap, where the rebels were found in overwhelming force. An engagement at once ensued, which lasted for several hours; but as the enemy was soon strongly re-enforced, Gen. Negley ordered a retreat, and his men were drawn off, slowly and quietly, one brigade at a time. Slowly the artillery wastaken off the field, occasionally halting to throw a few shells into the advancing enemy, till finally we regained our old camp.
Our loss in this skirmish was about forty killed, wounded and missing; but we lost nothing else; so leisurely were our forces withdrawn, that the teamsters stopped to reload a wagon which was upset. The 19th Illinois, and 18th Ohio Infantry, did noble work in this encounter, fighting at short range, and repelling two or three handsome charges. They killed thirty odd men, at a single volley, near the gap, all of whom were left on the ground by the enemy.
As we were proceeding toward the gap, I was frequently far in advance of the column, looking out for ambuscades, and performing the other delicate duties which devolve upon a scout; and while reconnoitering, I discovered a stone wall to the left of the road, which looked like a splendid place of concealment, and I accordingly jumped behind a tree and scrutinized it carefully, to discover signs of the enemy, but for some time I was unsuccessful in my efforts. Presently, however, I saw a man partly concealed by a clump of willow bushes, at a little distance from the wall; and observing him closely, I saw that he was motioning with his hand, as if to keep men down. In a little while I discovered another, and then another, until I saw four men crowded under the bushes, when I opened on them with a few shots from my Spencer rifle, and as they were but about two hundred yards off, I soon made it too hot for them, and they hustled down to the wall, when I lit out to report the ambuscade to General Negley. He immediately ran down a section of artillery into a position that commanded the wall, and then led a charge in person over the intervening hill, and down upon the rebels, who delivered a hasty volley before our men raised the hill, and then fled in confusion, leaving several of their dead on the field. I chased one horse, with his rider, over a bluff bank, about twenty feet high, into a creek; the rider sticking to his animal all the time, till he struck the water. The horse mired in the quicksand, and the man was compelled to leap from his back, and leaving him, gain the opposite bank,where he leaped a fence and disappeared in a corn field, while I was loading my gun. I then took the fellow's horse and saddle, and broke his gun and threw it over the fence after him, though I am not aware that he even stopped to think about it, much less to gather up the pieces.
Our artillery was managed with great precision, and the enemy must have lost heavily. We occupied the ground next day, and we had a considerable number of their dead to bury—the bodies having been abandoned on the field.
A rather amusing incident occurred just before the engagement. I was on a scout up to the very foot of the gap. The rebels, for a long time, refused to show themselves, seemingly to draw us up into the gap, while they held another force that I had reported, ready to pounce upon our flank, when their masked batteries in front were to riddle our column with shells. Near the gap lived a venerable widow, who had two beautiful daughters, all Union, or at least so they told me, when they thought me arebel. Her house stood within easy shooting distance of the rebel sharp-shooters, and inside their picket line, although they had no post on the road. I went into the house, and told the old lady that I was very tired, and wanted to rest awhile, and she told me to lay down on a bed, but I preferred the floor. I was only doing this in order to see what I could find out; and I had been there but a little while before her little son ran up to the door and said:
"Mother, mother, here comes an officer."
I rolled over carelessly and asked where he was, and he told me in a whisper that he was out at the end of the house. I was after him in a moment, and I jumped over the fence between him and his men, and walked stealthily along behind him, until raising a little hill, he spied our pickets, about half a mile off. He quickly concealed himself in a fence corner, till he had taken a good look, then turning to go back to his own lines, he met me, with my rifle raised and my finger on the trigger.
"Just take the road before me, sir," was all I said.
He raised his hat very politely, bowed low, and remarked:
"Why, really, sir, I am very much surprised to see you here."
Finding himself a prisoner, he took it with the best possible grace. I allowed him to keep his sword until he reached the post, and let him walk by me. He was such a perfect gentleman that I hated to turn him over to the hard fate of a prisoner; but my good manners never savedmewhen I was intheirhands, and so I consoled myself with the thought that he might have had better luck. After I reached camp with him, I ascertained that he was a second lieutenant on Colonel Corbyn's staff.
From some unaccountable cause, the army was detained in the vicinity of Stevens' gap for five days; and during this interval, the enemy was reinforced by Longstreet's Corps, and other troops from Virginia.
During the morning of Saturday, the 19th of September, little was done except closing up the trains, and getting them over the mountains, before it was discovered that Bragg was attempting to flank us on the left, when instantly our army was put in motion toward Chattanooga, to prevent him from accomplishing his object. Our march was soon discovered by the rebels; and now began the greatest foot race the eye of man ever beheld. My duty often caused me to ascend high points of the ridges and hills, to see how the enemy were progressing; and wherever they moved, the tell-tale dust would disclose their operations. Each army was intent on gaining their fortified ground near Chattanooga; and we had an even start, and if anything, the shortest road—our army marching down on the west, and that of the rebels on the east side of the Chickamauga river.
Great heavy clouds of dust hovered in the air, revealing the course of each army, through its entire length; as well as disclosing the movements of the smallest bodies of troops.
About ten o'clock in the morning, Bragg discovered it would be impossible to flank our army, and prevent us from gaining the desired point, and immediately began to close with us. His artillery thundering on our flank, gave notice of his intentions; and General Rosecrans accepted the challenge, and soon our batteries were answering shot for shot, and shell for shell.
This artillery dueling was very destructive for some time, particularly on our right, where the guns thundered with uninterrupted fury. Guns were dismounted, caissons blown up, wheels splintered into fragments, horses torn almost limb from limb, while the mangled gunners lay scattered in all directions and wounded in every manner. Still the work of death went on. When the heavy shot failed to strike among the gunners, it was only to pass among the boughs over their heads, and by splintering them, carry additional destructive elements into the ranks of the supporting infantry. The shells, shrieking through the air, burst among the men, and horses, sweeping down whole squads of the one, or teams of the other; and when a caisson was struck, the effect was terrific. The vehicles would be shattered to fragments, while the powder of the shells would ignite, and throw them in every direction, bursting as they went, and sweeping scores of heroes to untimely graves.
While this was transpiring on our right, the heavens appeared rent by a sudden crash, and the earth trembled beneath a steady, rolling sound. The battle had began on the left, and the musketry had opened in dreadful earnest. Peal, on peal, the sound was borne to us, on the right, by the wind, almost drowning the heavy roar of artillery near us, which of itself was well nigh deafening.
Rapidly General Rosecrans shifted his troops from right to left, to meet each new assault of the enemy. Each time, as the roll of musketry raised above the sound of the cannon, it told us that the battle continued to surge to the left, and that the lines of our army were being stretched to the greatest possible length. Stout hearts began to feel a misgiving, and brave men watched the enemy with wary eye.
McCook's corps, on the right, held its ground. Battery after battery of rebel guns had been silenced, but they had not yet given back, keeping continually closed in upon our men; and in the evening they charged upon Van Cleve's division, pouring in three terrible volleys; but they met with a fearfully bloody repulse, and were compelled to fall back to their old position, after which they soon began to retire from the field they had occupied.
"The punishment he endured must have been severe; for sometimes he would be thrown three or four feet up in the air, and then fall back into the cart with a thump that made him roar again."—Page330.
Concentrationon our left was the next movement in order; for on that wing the battle was yet raging with unabated fury. Our lines were faced to the East, with the right to the South, and left to the North; and in rear of this were our teams, and non-combatants; and these were hurried off in hot haste, toward Chattanooga.
Sunday morning, the 20th, revealed to us the enemy in a new and stronger position, and much nearer to Chattanooga; and at daylight, the contest burst forth again with redoubled fury, on our devoted left—General Thomas this time taking the offensive. For hours the contest continued, without decided advantage to either side, when suddenly the enemy concentrated in tremendous force, on McCook's corps, rushing impetuously forward and driving it flying from the field. God grant that I may never again behold such a scene as I there witnessed. The assaulting column charged to within sixty or eighty paces of our lines, under a fire so murderous that they halted, and wavered, at least five minutes, when, reinforced by another line, the foremost men were literally driven upon us. At this critical juncture, our ammunition failed, and the enemy was upon us, pouring in withering volleys upon our almost defenseless ranks, so that no troops in the world could have withstood the assault. Panic stricken, the corps rushed to the rear; but they were true men, and heroic leaders were there to rally them, and thrice they formed, and turned upon the advancing foe, who forbore to pursue so determined an enemy. Most heroically did the fugitives cluster around their battle flags, with tear-streaming eyes, fondly caressing the banner they were now helpless to defend.
Here and there a gallant color sergeant would halt and raise aloft the ensign of liberty, shouting out to the men not to abandon their colors—not to give up the flag—to remember Stone river, and not to yield, for our troops would yet be victorious, as they had been on many a hotly-contested field. Here and therean officer pleaded frantically with the flying men; now using words of hope and encouragement, or orders and menaces, as either were demanded by different characters; calling upon them to remember their country and her honor, to reflect that they were Americans, and must fight to save their banners. They could not resist the appeal, and three times they rallied and waited determinedly for the enemy; each time in better order and determination, standing ever in well-formed ranks, until ordered to take up a new position. Nobly did those color sergeants discharge their duty that day, not one of whom yielded his banner, till he had first fallen beneath it. Captain Johnson, now Colonel of the 13th Indiana Cavalry, contributed much toward rallying the men; as did also Captain Rockhold, of the 15th Pennsylvania Cavalry, and many other officers both of the staff and line, whose names I do not now remember. The last man I recollect seeing on the field—and I was one of the last to leave it—was Major-General McCook, riding even into the thickest of the enemy's fire; and it indeed appears miraculous that he escaped with his life. While this was transpiring on the right, the thunder of battle still reached us from the left. What befell the fugitives now, I know not; for, thinking they were taking a wrong road, I left them, and going immediately to the left, reported to Gen. Thomas for duty. He held his ground firmly until toward night, when, during a lull in the battle, he began to retreat. His corps was in the best of spirits, and full of confidence in the General.
Deliberately every man supplied himself with a rail—whole brigades facing to a fence for this purpose—each fellow shouldering the biggest one he could lay hands on; and then the brigade would reform and resume its march, the men laughing and joking each other over their heavy work as gayly as if they had not seen thousands of their comrades fall that day. The enemy pursued, but the corps with its portable breastworks was invincible. Halting in a noted gap in Mission Ridge, the troops put their rails to use by raising, in a few moments, an effective barricade. The General made his headquarters just in the rear ofthe gap, and under short artillery range of the enemy; and he maintained his position, in spite of the rebel shells, which were whistling over his head for hours together; and here he was reinforced by two or three brigades of Granger's reserves, and renewed the contest.
On the 21st our line reached around the crest of Mission Ridge, something like a half-moon, with the bow toward the enemy. The battle, however, was not severe on that day, as the rebels appeared disconcerted. They made several feints upon our lines, but our General was always ready for them, and checked them at every point. At times their artillery would send shell after shell shrieking over our heads, as if determined to frighten us from our position; but they fired badly, as if they had lost their best gunners in the late terrible contest. At times they would pour volley after volley of musketry upon us, but did but little damage, as the balls either struck our barricade, or flew harmlessly over us, and clattered among the trees. Their next ruse was to try to turn our right with their cavalry, and it was said that Forrest led the charge in person. Scaling the end of the ridge, where our right was posted, they charged furiously upon the 21st Ohio infantry, and were handsomely repulsed, without loss to our side; while eight of the enemy fell dead within a few feet of our lines. The 21st followed them with an uninterrupted fire from their revolving rifles, until the rebels were driven from the hill. This was about the closing demonstration; and that night the army quietly retreated to Chattanooga, leaving their camp fires burning brightly, to deceive the rebels. General Thomas did not leave the field until all had gone from the scene of the late conflict, but the rear guard; and about midnight, part of General Stanley's force appeared upon the ground, to cover the retreat. While the battle had been raging, they had been hotly engaged with the enemy's cavalry under Forrest, and had also been beset with infantry. Their duty had been of a most dangerous nature, and was performed in a gallant manner. Our cavalry lost many daring men during the battle, chiefly, however, in killed and wounded, though they lost a few in prisoners.
Noiselessly the army marched to Chattanooga that night. Not a sound was to be heard save the rumbling of the trains or the occasional word of command. When the troops reached the town the whole aspect was changed. Uncertainty was now certainty. We had gained the point for which the campaign was planned and for which we had struggled so hard. Determination could be read in every face. Filing along the breastworks the rebels had constructed, men and officers took off their coats and engaged in strengthening their position.
I now saw General Rosecrans for the first time since I left Bridgeport. He looked wearied and care-worn, but hopeful and determined. I spoke to him and wanted to burn the jail where I had been confined with Andrews' men, but he refused permission, telling me it would raise too much smoke over the town and impede the aim of the artillery. His countenance did not change till he rode along by some familiar regiments and saw their thinned ranks and worn looks, when he appeared ready to burst into tears; at that moment the men raised a hearty cheer for "Rosecrans," when he rallied from his momentary weakness, and galloped to the outworks in front of the town. I heard many a man and officer swear that the town should never be surrendered—and it never was; while the rebel columns were soon hurled, flying back for Mission Ridge, a position they deemed impregnable.
PERSONAL ADVENTURES DURING THE BATTLE.
I had some personal adventures during the battle, two or three of which may be worth the reader's perusal. The lamented General Lytle, who was killed in the second day's fight at Chickamauga, held the right of McCook's corps most of the day; and when he saw the evening closing in on him he sent me down to the left, telling me to post on a mile or so and see how everything stood, saying that the service was of the utmost importance. This was on the 19th.
Away I went, first down in front of the rebel lines, and in full view of them, till I saw they were preparing to advance, when, dashing across the open place, I came over to our own front. I turned down it to a long break in the line; I then followed the general direction of our front for half a mile, when I reached one of our own batteries which I found to be literally dismantled. The caissons were blown into fragments, the guns dismounted, and the gunners were scattered, dead and wounded, thick around it. Poor fellows! they had been stricken down at their posts, torn and mangled, by shell and grape.
I had no time to stop, as much depended on my diligence; perhaps I held the lives of many men in my hands. I rode on, some three-quarters of a mile further, still seeing no troops, when I turned back. I passed the dismantled battery again, and stopped a moment to see if I could identify it, when one of the wounded men feebly called out:
"Soldier, cover me up; cover me up; I am cold; oh! so cold."
The supplicatory tones were hard to resist, but I saw theenemy advancing, and hastened back to the General. As I reached our line again, I hailed a body of troops with:
"What brigade is this?"
"Third brigade of Van Cleve's division," was the hurried response.
I had barely passed it when a double crash of musketry told me that they had closed in upon the advancing enemy. I now put my mare out to her best speed, to pass the next brigade; and in answer to my hail, they shouted: "second brigade of Van Cleve's division;" and I had hardly passed when a heavy volley of the enemy's musketry whistled over the heads of our men, and was immediately answered by the brigade.
The firing behind me was now both rapid and destructive. As I passed on, hailing the next command, I found it was the first brigade of Van Cleve's division, and as I had just reached the end of its line, it, too, joined in the furious contest, with a deafening crash of musketry. The firing, now, for a short time, was intense, and the work of death terrific; but the enemy gave way, and retired to their old position.
I reported to General Lytle the condition of things on his left, and as the enemy remained quiet for a little time, Van Cleve now closed up the gaps in the line. Before this change of position, however, I was again sent over toward the enemy, to see what they were doing; and I reached the creek in the thicket, and crept on my hands and knees until I got close enough to hear them talk.
"There, that's right," said one fellow.
"Hand me that glass," said another.
On raising up and looking through a fence, I saw they were turning a battery on General Lytle's headquarters; and at once, without heeding their shout to halt, I ran at my best speed for the foot-log over the creek. A few shots behind me had a wonderful effect in accelerating my pace, so that I never ran better than at that time. I sprang on my horse just as the Johnnies leaped out of the brush on the other side of the creek; but before they had time to fire I was off like a shot, for the hill.I at once dismounted, and leaping over the breastworks, was met by the General, who asked me what the rebels were about.
"They are," said I, "turning a battery so as to rake your position"—and I had hardly uttered the word "position," when a shell from it passed whistling between our heads. The shock caused by the current staggered the General about six feet back, and jarred me, creating a sensation such as would be produced by a stroke on the ear by a light board.
The same day, in the morning, I was passing our ammunition train, and saw on the right of it, a man sitting on a horse in an open field, scrutinizing the train closely, up and down, and around. He was in our uniform, and bareheaded, when I observed him, but I soon perceived that he held a white hat in his hand. I at once concluded that if he was aYankeehe had no business there; and if arebelhe had still less, so I "went for him," as the soldiers express it; that is, I went to kill him, if I could not take him prisoner. He saw me coming, and fled to a barn on the hill at some distance from us, and near a clump of timber. I was about two hundred yards from the train, and could not follow directly after him, as the creek was wide, deep, and had high, steep banks; but some distance down was a ford, for which I made, and when I crossed it on the jump, I saw one of our Lieutenant-Colonels, a Captain, and a colored servant, watering their horses in the creek. I rode up on the hill about a hundred yards, and the barn was still about fifty yards from me, when about thirty rebels rode out from behind the building, and out of the woods, and fired a volley at me. I was not hurt, but convinced that I was too close to them, and wheeled and went back in a rather precipitate manner. The Colonel heard the firing, and he and his party ran off down toward the train; but as I rode the best horse, I soon overtook them and reported the case to him. He was, fortunately, one of General McCook's staff. I told him that it was plainly the intention of the rebels to assault the train and blow it up; and this, five resolute men could have easily done, without danger to themselves.
I now went to the friendly shelter of a rail fence close by, and had a lively time with the rebs till the infantry got in sight, when they mounted their horses and left; and even then they could have destroyed the train had they known the true state of affairs; but every now and then I would fire a shot and give a yell, and I suppose they thought I had plenty of help close by.
On the second day, I was with Lytle's brigade until after the General was killed. He had sent me a long way out before the brigade skirmishers, to see for him if the enemy were coming. While on this service, I discovered an officer of the rebel army hid behind a bush that concealed him from our skirmishers; but I was about parallel with him, and of course, had a fair sight, and improved it. I fired at him three times, as fast as I could shoot a Spencer rifle; and the third bullet brought him down, his horse galloping away to a party of mounted men still further back in the timber. I hurried on in the woods, dodging from tree to tree, and from one hiding place to another, until I saw the enemy's skirmish line, which was advancing slowly, at the same time keeping well "dressed;" and instantly I was off to inform General Lytle that they were coming. On the line I saw a staff officer, to whom I gave my information, and who was going to the General, and he promised to report. I then took my place in the line of skirmishers, and as the rebel skirmishers came in sight, we made the fire so hot that they soon fell back to their ranks, while we, ourselves, were ordered into our breastworks.
As soon as we turned to retire to our breastworks, we were beset by a heavy fire from the enemy's columns; and one Colonel made his men get down on all fours, and no doubt saved many a life by this maneuver.
For some reason, our first line of breastworks was abandoned after the delivery of the second volley; and as we took our position behind the second line, I placed myself behind a large chestnut tree, the top of which had been broken off by a storm, and near which I had tied my mare some time before. As I felt perfectly secure, while the rebels were coming I examined my ammunition, and laid it out on the ground by my side, and I found I had just thirty-three rounds.