Chapter V: Preface (2)

When the entire command had succeeded in crossing, and during the advance on the little town of Boston, a town on the Lebanon Branch Railroad about ten miles from Bardstown, we were deployed on both flanks as skirmishers until we drew near Boston, then were ordered to Rolling Fork, to notice the movement of the enemy; for they were in line on the opposite bank of the river, and showed no inclination to come over. Remaining some time within short rifle range and within speaking distance, we finally returned to the advance and reported the situation to the General. When we entered Bardstown we captured the small garrison stationed there, besides a large and valuable amount of army stores. We remained all night, snugly and safely housed, and supplied by the citizens with everything necessary to the comfort and happiness of a soldier.

Early next morning we started in the direction of Lebanon, by way of the Springfield pike, and reached Springfield very late in the evening. It was cold, and there was a storm of driving rain and sleet. Then commenced a night’s march long to be remembered by us for its severity and the suffering it caused. Finding that the enemy had concentrated a large force in Lebanon and fortified it strongly for the express purpose of intercepting our march, the General thought too much of his boys, and perhaps estimated his captured stores too highly, to think of moving against vastly superior numbers, and those numbers equipped with a large amount of ordnance, all strongly entrenched and fortified. “Most assuredly not,” said our General. He did not for one moment intend to advance on their front, as they thought he would do.

No, the programme for the night was quite differently arranged, doubtless to their surprise and disappointment. We fed our stock in and around Springfield, and were on the road a little after dark, headed toward Lebanon. We had decided to pass around Lebanon by taking a side road that passed within two miles of that city, and intersected with the pike on Muldrough’s Hill, a few miles south of town. When within four miles of Lebanon our forces bore off on the side road in silence, with part of the scouts in advance, while the others were ordered by the General to make a feint upon the enemy by an attack in front. This was done in gallant style, and the pickets were driven back into town in great disorder; we even charged almost into their main line, then stationed behind breastworks.

Before we left them I imagine they were deeply impressed with the idea that Morgan was advancing on the town in force, instead of marching around it, as he was in reality. The farce was handsomely executed. A few men kept them under arms, and frightened them so that it is not supposed that a man was put on extra duty for sleeping on his post _that_ night. And when daylight appeared we disappeared, and soon after rejoined our command, then six miles south of Lebanon, en route to Campbellsville. After we had reported to the General he sent us to the advance to join the rest of the scouts.

Our accomplished operator, “Lightning”—Captain Ellsworth—was sent with us to tap the telegraph line a short distance ahead. In due time “Lightning” opened his office; that is, one of the boys climbed a telegraph pole and separated a wire, and “Lightning” attached his battery to it.

It was truly amusing to hear the “operator” repeating the dispatches as they went flying through his office. The operator at Danville, for instance, informs Campbellsville that the picket has just been run in by “Morgan,” and that he has his traps fixed to leave at a minute’s warning. Stanford says, “Morgan is approaching with three thousand cavalry and several pieces of artillery. Send reinforcements.” Campbellsville wires to Danville, “Morgan is now before Lebanon, engaged in a hot skirmish”; and tells Stanford, at the same time, “All the troops able for duty have gone from Columbia stockade at Green River Bridge.” To Lebanon, Campbellsville says, “Save a few companies to protect the hospital and the army stores.”

From the many conflicting dispatches one might have thought there were fifty Morgans, each Morgan with a force before each town, in ten counties square! In reality, the boys seemed nonplussed, they were reported in so many places at the same time, and doing so many different things. They even doubted their own identity. To satisfy themselves, and to prove that they were not mistaken as to their whereabouts, some of them were found pinching themselves to discover whether they were members of Morgan’s Cavalry or not.

Having obtained all the news afloat we mounted and double-quicked into Campbellsville, reaching there a little before sunset, and capturing two or three companies of infantry, three hundred invalids in the hospital, whom we paroled, and also capturing a large amount of commissary and quartermaster stores, and, I might add, a few dry-goods stores, all of which, when the General arrived, were in charge of the scouts.

Meanwhile, our horses had been housed in the hotel and livery stables, and had everything they liked, and plenty of it, before them. The boys, likewise, feasted on the captured stores and the luxuries so bountifully provided by the ladies. “Lightning” was in his office the principal part of the night, being located on a conspicuous woodpile in the center of the street. Early the next morning we were on our way to Columbia, which place we reached about 4 o’clock in the evening, and there we stayed till dark, feeding our horses, as well as ourselves, resting, and shopping at the several dry-goods stores. We did our shopping here because we knew that it was our last chance for some time to come. And here, too, two hospitals, containing about two hundred invalids, with a few well Yankees, were captured and paroled.

At dark we mounted, and were soon on our way to Burksville, on the Cumberland River. This was the last night of the year 1862. Many incidents occurred to remind me of the fact, but they were so numerous that I have not the patience to pen them. It was one of the severest nights we had marched. Ten miles from Burksville we descended into a pleasant valley, through which runs a beautiful creek. The creek was frozen hard. There were many handsome farms and farmhouses along this stream, and most of these were brilliantly lighted up when we passed them, though it was past midnight. But when we remember the people were sitting up to give the New Year a fitting reception, it was not strange.

We found as many as four houses in which the young people had collected to “trip the light fantastic,” and neither the night nor the command will ever be effaced from the memory of those same young people. For, fortunately for the scouts, and unfortunately for those attending the parties, “ladies not excepted,” the horses which had carried them to the party carried many of the boys away. Such a temptation could not be resisted by the scouts, especially as the horses were in such good position for leading off.

Was it not almost a “blot” upon the characters of the bold cavaliers, their leaving the young ladies to “foot it home” next morning? It may have been, but as “our” now excellent President so often says, “Not if we know ourselves, and we think we do.” I may mention, by way of apology, perhaps, that the next day we would be in Tennessee, and hence in our own lines, and such acts would not be permitted by the Confederate States. Besides that, when we started on this raid thirteen of our company had been left behind because they were not mounted, and they had our promises that we would bring each a “charger.”

Very many were the complaints made to the General, when he passed half an hour later, concerning the horses. He told the ladies, who insisted that their horses must have been taken by some of his men, that if his scouts had really taken their fine riding-horses he would have every one of the men shot without the benefit of a court-martial. It seemed as if many of the ladies believed the General was in earnest, for they, the tenderhearted, afterward begged him to spare our lives, but please send their riding-horses. This he promised to do, I have no doubt.

On the General’s reaching the town, about 4 o’clock in the morning, he found us in quiet possession. We had taken it without a struggle at 3 o’clock, when we commenced to cross the river, on our way to Livingston, Kentucky. Nothing of interest happened during the march. The excitement of the raid was fast expiring, and the boys were nodding as they rode along. Tired nature must have rest, and nature certainly had been severely tested during the past two weeks.

Livingston was gained before dark, and, passing through the town, we camped several miles on the road leading to Smithville, which town was reached, without excitement, on the succeeding day. Remaining near the town over night, the scouts received orders the following morning to march to Liberty, a distance of fifteen miles, which place we reached on the 7th of January, and we remained there, on outpost duty, until April.

During this period, from January 7th to the first of April, we had, for the better part of the time, no support nearer than McMinnville, thirty miles distant, where the General had his headquarters, with a part of his command camped near him, the most of it being stationed at Woodbury and Readyville, and on the enemy’s left flank. For the enemy was in possession of Murfreesboro, and “Old Rosey” was in command there. Our company was on his left, and something like twenty miles from Murfreesboro. General Bragg’s forces were in Tullahoma.

The stirring incidents, daring scouts, hot skirmishes, and spirited engagements in which we took part during the winter cannot be related, as I would desire, on account of space. But I will mention a few.

Seldom, if ever, were we idle while our camp was in Liberty. The field which the General had intrusted to our surveillance was so extensive as to keep us almost constantly in the saddle. We watched the movements of the enemy night and day, and we skirmished with him daily, sometimes near Murfreesboro, or near Lavergne, Nashville, and in the vicinity of Gallatin, Huntsville, Carthage, and Lebanon. This was a mammoth undertaking for one company, yet we succeeded in gaining the approbation of our General.

By our vigilance, our daring scouts and rapid movements, we kept the General thoroughly posted as to the whereabouts of the enemy. Very often the report would reach him, “The scouts are cut off!” but he would always reply, “They will cut on again!” Such a thing had so often happened without our failing to report, or without in any way causing us to be detained, that he had no fears as to our success, and our safe return at the proper time, together with all the necessary intelligence. It did not matter how severe the struggle, how long it lasted, or how desperately it was contested, it was called then, and it will be called in the written history of the great struggle, “only a skirmish.” Yet in no part of the service is daring gallantry and real pluck better illustrated than in these hand-to-hand encounters. There is in them a greater display of courage than there is in a general engagement.

Besides all this, it is a deplorable fact that the number of brave comrades killed in “only a skirmish” is not few. Indeed, there are often enough killed to startle those who have had no experience in the “art of killing.” This fact is not to be effaced or forgotten when considering these so-called “skirmishes.”

Well, now for some of the incidents of those months, incidents which may not be related in their proper order, but which are true.

“Once upon a time” General Morgan, with a small escort, reached Liberty, and, taking a part of the scouts who wore _blue_ overcoats, started in the direction of the City of Rocks. Many were the surmises of the boys as to the General’s intentions, but most of them came to the conclusion that they were to pay Nashville a visit in person. But it was all surmise, for he alone knew the purpose. When we came to the river we saw a Yankee scout on the opposite bank, within hailing.

In his quick way the General demanded, “Whose command is that?” They replied, “Morgan’s scouts from Nashville. What command is that?” The General replied, in a real New England tone, “Ninth Kentucky Cavalry from Murfreesboro,” and added, “Have you any late papers?” When the Yankee officer, whose name was Morgan, replied that he had, the General remarked that he would send some of his men over for them. As the Stone River was very high, we crossed in a ferry-boat, some half a dozen of us, in charge of “Captain Tom.” When we gained the opposite bank we rode carelessly up the slope, filed right and left, and enclosed the captain and six of his men before they suspected or had time to say us nay. Of course the late papers were soon in our hands.

There was one man a little distance off whom we could not encircle, and on seeing our action he took wing to flee away, but he was not quicker than one of our scouts who pursued him. It was a hot but short chase, for the scout’s second shot from his six-shooter unhorsed him. He proved to be an Indian, having long black hair. His steed he rode like “a thing of life.”

The scout that shot him, and who was warmly praised for his gallant conduct, while disarming him of certain unnecessary articles, espied, unpleasantly near, a line of battle. This line had been formed and left there by the captured officer, who had gone to the ford to make some observations. On reporting this information to the General he ordered us to cross back, with our prisoners. As the ferry-boat could not carry all, three of the boys swam it on their horses. This collision with the enemy probably foiled the plans of the General, for he countermarched, and, after scouting some, returned to camp.

On another occasion, when our company was scouting in the direction of Lebanon, on arriving at the “twelve-mile post” from that place, intelligence reached us that the enemy was in force in the little village of Statesville, which was on our short left, six miles distant. Being on the lookout for specimens of that description, it was soon determined that we would go and see for ourselves. It was a well-known fact that scouts never reported “what others had seen,” but what they themselves had actually seen “with their own eyes.” Therefore, we filed off on the road leading to Statesville, advancing at a double-quick pace. The enemy’s rear-guard was in sight when we reached the town, but was marching in the direction of Auburn.

Several Rebels who had been badly wounded by the Yankees, were in town, and the female inhabitants were in a high state of excitement, many women running out into the street to intercept our march, and begging and imploring us not to advance farther with such a band, telling us the enemy’s force was very large, and included infantry, cavalry, and artillery. However, very little heed was paid to their story, but with “fire-lit” eyes, color in the cheeks, and a terrific yell, such as only Rebels could give, we charged at a pace by no means slow, irrespective of numbers, driving the rear upon the first regiment hurriedly and confusedly. The rear regiment was compelled to face about and form line to the rear in support of its guard.

This was the principal object for which we charged, to cause them to show “an inferior force” their entire number. Before we left them we had the satisfaction of seeing the number of regiments of infantry, cavalry, and pieces of artillery, all of which took position to the rear in anticipation of a general attack. Our purpose attained, with a parting salute into their main line we disappeared on a left-hand road leading to Alexandria and back to the pike we so recently had left. We galloped away much to their surprise and mortification.

It was five miles to Alexandria, seven to Liberty, making twelve miles in all, and the enemy when we left was within eight miles of either Liberty or Auburn on a road that struck the pike from Liberty to Murfreesboro at right angles and half way between the places, and this was the reason for our haste to report to camp near Liberty, where most of the brigade had arrived the previous day.

When two miles from Liberty we met General Morgan and staff, who had just come from McMinnville. His first question was:

“Boys, where are the Yanks?”

It was a surprise to him to receive for reply:

“General, four thousand, composed of infantry, cavalry and artillery, commanded by General Hall, passed through Statesville scarce an hour and a half ago on the road intersecting with this pike three miles distant.”

Thanking us for such prompt intelligence, he dismissed us with instructions to go to our quarters in town and report to him at daylight.

Armed cap-a-pie, not sooner did the first gray streaks of morning appear in the east than the company were “fronted into line” at the General’s headquarters, for duty. On receiving his instructions—ever brief and pointed—we moved off rapidly in the direction of Auburn to execute the orders, “Find the enemy, attack and hold him in check until you are relieved by the brigade which will soon follow you.” This done, nothing more would be required of us during the day.

Down the pike we flew at a frightful rate, and soon came in sight of Auburn and, a little farther on, the smoke of the enemy’s camp-fires. Yet, without reining our horses, we passed through the town, up the pike, and into a dense cloud of smoke rising from the deserted camp-fires. But, lo! the birds had early flown in the direction of Murfreesboro. Again that oft-repeated command, “Double quick; forward, march!”

Rowels were used eagerly, and our chargers, with nostrils distended, answered with increased speed. Arriving at farmhouses on the way we were told that the enemy was only a short distance ahead, and that the officers were hurrying their men forward by reminding them that “Morgan will get you,” etc.

With videttes in the van we overtook them at Milton, ten miles from Murfreesboro. They discovered us almost as soon as we espied them, informing us “gently” of the fact, with a round of grape and canister shot, and thereby wounding one of the vidette’s horses severely. The second shot exploded but a short distance above my head, while I was leading the company, “Captain Tom” being with the videttes.

We pressed steadily on, however, until the advance opened on the cavalry guarding the rear. Then right-obliquing and forwarding into line, leaving our horses in charge of No. Three, we dismounted to fight, deploying as we advanced. The enemy’s main force could be seen distinctly just beyond the edge of the town, the rear-guard holding possession of the village. On consolidating with the fire of the advance the cavalry guarding the enemy’s rear gave way; but soon after a squad of “Web-Foots” was seen hurrying up the pike to the post which the cavalry had deserted.

The boys made the discovery quickly, warning each other with, “Look out, boys; here come the Webs!”

We had already gained a position in an open field, protected by a large fence on our left and front, and as the infantry advanced in fours up the pike we opened so hot a fire upon them that they retreated also. At the same time their main force was in an open field, with a regiment on each flank, field and staff in the center, forming one of the grandest “hollow squares” that we ever saw. Their ordnance was stationed on the pike, well supported. It was a magnificent sight and admirably executed. They doubtless believed that we were about to charge them, but we had no such intention.

One of the General’s aids, Captain Williams, of South Carolina, informed us the command was near. Until they reached us we were under a terrific fire of shot and shell, with no alternative save to hold our position until relieved. It was a glad sight to us to see the Third Kentucky Cavalry take post immediately on our left and rear, followed closely by the Second, which formed on our right, and the Tenth, which took place on our extreme left. We knew by this that the General’s eye was upon us, and our anxieties were over.

The column advanced, and we were relieved with liberty to act as we pleased. Well, we pleased to go around the enemy and strike him between that place and Murfreesboro, which we did successfully, capturing seventeen flying cavalrymen, the Yankee general’s horse fully equipped, exterminating a member of the “Freedmen’s Bureau” who was found in arms against his friends and country, and then pursued a detachment of cavalry with a few miles of their main encampment, which perhaps had been sent for reinforcement.

On returning to the scene of action, the firing, which had been very severe, had ceased and we were in some doubt as to how the battle had terminated. But while passing near the enemy he took the liberty of throwing a few shells, without injury to any one, which was good evidence that he was in defiance still. On finding and reporting to the General, he was exceedingly angry; and well might he be—the ammunition had been exhausted, many of his “bravest and best” had fallen, and the enemy was still unconquered.

Our lines went forward with great spirit and gallantry to their rear, but unfortunately we compelled the Yankees to take refuge in one of the best positions to be found anywhere. This was on a hill in shape resembling a pyramid, in the center of a valley, not connected with the neighboring range, thickly wooded and naturally fortified with immense rocks, which afforded ample protection to the enemy. We found it impossible to dislodge him from this position, although our troops fought desperately.

The General justly complained that there was not concert of action, and seemed determined to take them, ammunition or not. But ere the assault began the Yankees were heard loudly cheering, and we knew reinforcements had arrived.

Quickly turning to the boys, the General told them to halloa manfully, and such yells filled the air as were never heard before, I am sure. He then dispatched an aide to the officer commanding his artillery, with instructions to silence the Yankee battery.

In the short space of half an hour nine men were killed and fifteen wounded—surely a great sacrifice of lives just to silence a battery. But they hushed the Yankee and compelled him to “limber up.” This was the conclusion of the battle of Milton.

With sad and depressed hearts we sullenly withdrew and began our march to camp. Foiled, but not whipped, we always remembered it as a blank page in our book of successes. Although the enemy received heavy reinforcements, he had not the impudence or pluck to follow us. Our encampment was reached late, and we all went to sleep without being rocked.

To mention all of our actions would be to write a voluminous history. Such a purpose I have not the mind nor the time to undertake, and if I had you would not, I fear, have sufficient patience to follow my meanderings. I will only “touch and go.”

At one time, being advised by a scout that the garrison stationed at Carthage had crossed a large foraging party to the south bank of the Cumberland, we quickly mounted and started in that direction. The outpost which had been pushed forward in case of a surprise was soon discovered on a distant hilltop. A halt was ordered, preparatory to making a charge on horse. This was contrary to our usual custom, as we generally dismounted to fight. It was plainly seen that the enemy outnumbered us, there being upward of thirty, while our number was scarce twenty-five. But in imagination we were much more.

Dismounting to tighten our saddle girths, buttoning up our “faded grays,” and with everything closely rigged, we again mounted and advanced at a brisk canter. We were not perceived until within gunshot. We hoped to close on them before they could form, but although they showed some confusion at our rapid advance, the commanding officer was an old veteran, keeping his men well in hand and pretty steady, and much to our surprise and without our consent gave the command to fire when we were but ten yards distant. And yet the greatest wonder to all was that none received a hurt. They were infantry, without a second shot unless they reloaded, and it was not in our program to give them that advantage, so they came to the position of “charge bayonets,” while we reined our horses at a respectful distance beyond their reach. We presented “navies” with the command “Surrender, and ground arms!” which was instantly done, they perceiving our advantage over them.

Putting the prisoners under the protection of some of the company en route to camp, we thought a further little venture might be interesting as well as profitable. On descending into the valley leading into the river we could see trains of wagons guarded by infantry scattered over the various farms, gathering forage.

Seeing some half a dozen wagons on the nearest plantation with only a small guard, we clapped spurs and went, helter skelter, right into their midst, without saying so much as “By your leave, gentlemen.” Not a shot was fired, so much were they surprised and frightened. Taking their guns and putting the prisoners in the wagons with pistols unpleasantly near to each driver’s head, we moved off at a pace that would rival an express train, before the “Webs” had time to come to the rescue. We were very certain they could not catch us; infantry never did. Liberty was soon in view, and not long after we had the pleasure of turning our spoils and prisoners over to the General.

At another time, while scouting in the vicinity of “old Rosey,” we charged a large wagon-train out on a foraging expedition. They had a guard much too numerous for us to capture, but we successfully ran twenty of their wagons off in charge of their drivers, who were pressed into service, and, though hotly pursued by a larger force, carried them safely to camp.

After no little hot skirmishing, sometimes we could be found on the banks of the Cumberland between Gallatin and Carthage attacking gun-boats; at other times, chasing the enemy down by the Hermitage; then at Murfreesboro fighting with Rosecrans’s outpost, or pursuing the enemy’s cavalry and frequently being pursued ourselves by forces more than our size. Very often we caused trains to lay over at way stations by disconnecting the rails, and thus secured a variety of “Shoulder-strapped gentry” in connection with other articles of value. When the brigade accompanied us we had always the post of honor—the van.

Not few were the skirmishes on such occasions, for then we were a more saucy and formidable band, knowing that our General was in supporting distance. No slight barrier turned us back when the boys were all along. During the winter’s campaign we twice gave up Liberty to the enemy so that we could take position on Snow’s Hill, two and a half miles in our rear, which nature had strongly fortified.

At the first engagement, after a severe contest, we repulsed and drove them almost to their main lines in great disorder. The second ended not so handsomely for us. By a flank movement, with superior numbers, they compelled us to withdraw. But at neither engagement was the General or Colonel Duke with us, and to this our failure may be laid.

We were commanded by Colonel Gano of the Third and Colonel Breckinridge of the Ninth, and it was by them arranged that when the division under General Stanley was advancing upon us that we were to fall steadily back to Snow Hill and there give him fight. We were to act the part of seeming to skirmish with him and, if possible, draw him into our position. When that was accomplished we were to take post on our extreme right and front and watch them to keep them from flanking us.

We perceived, however, that their intention was to flank our left, and we hastened to our lines on top of the hill to report. Arriving alongside of the battery, we dismounted and formed a line in advance of our guns, all the time under a severe fire from the enemy’s artillery.

Meanwhile, one regiment after another was seen passing in the direction of our left, we occupying the center. Very soon after the officer guarding our left reported by a courier that the enemy was at his front, the next courier said they were hard pressed, and the third courier from the officer reported that he was compelled to give way before such odds, and not until then was the Third Regiment sent to his support, followed by the Fifth.

It was too late, however, to render the assistance needed or to regain the position thus lost, though not too late to hold the enemy in check until the withdrawal of our forces, which we had commenced to do. This was our only alternative, for we were certainly outflanked.

The regiments withdrew in order, leaving us deployed as skirmishers, in front of where our battery had been stationed, which was now on the way to the rear, where we were soon ordered.

On reaching the road by which we were flanked the guns of the Third and Fifth were opening sharply, and, not being under orders, “Tom” led us in that direction for new adventures. In a few moments we were in it as hotly as the rest, but to no effect. They had gained the position and it was impossible to dislodge them.

Again, at all hazards, we were instructed to hold the rear, so that the others could move off; but we did not tarry long however, though we stayed long enough to have seven men badly wounded.

Retreating over a mile, we met Colonel Duke, who took command, to the entire satisfaction of all, and formed his line of battle. This was done to no purpose, however, for when the Yankees struck the main road they took the Liberty end, expecting to capture at least a portion of the command. In this they were mistaken, for we had withdrawn in time. They went back to Liberty and encamped, while Duke kept the hill.

The scouts were sent out after dark to watch the enemy’s movements. We had not proceeded far before we engaged a force which seemed to be equal to us in number. We had a hot skirmish to drive them back. This force was afterward discovered to be General Morgan and escort, who had just arrived from McMinnville, and not knowing what had occurred, had struck the road between us and the enemy. He laughed heartily the next morning as we were pursuing the enemy through Liberty.

The enemy thought to hold his ground, but we made it so hot that to save himself he was compelled to give way. However, a part of the rear-guard was captured before they gained their lines. The enemy’s force consisted of four brigades, two each of cavalry and infantry, with artillery attached, while we could muster but one brigade and a limited amount of artillery. Such a large force could not be handled successfully by us, and all we could do was to work on their edges.

Before the winter was over this same force met the General and gained a decided victory over him at McMinnville by driving “himself, wife and staff, and one company of couriers” out of town, the brigade being stationed at several different points some distance from his headquarters. Even then he handled them so roughly that they pressed him very timidly.

The General and Lieut.-Col. Martin of the Tenth Regiment were the last to leave town. Passing down one street the Yankees tried hard to intercept them; as it was, they met the head of the Yankee column, into which they emptied two rounds from their pistols, unhorsing two of them. At the same moment Colonel Martin was shot through and through, near the center of his breast. However, he paid little attention to his wound, for he joined his regiment that evening, ten miles distant.

With these and many more of such adventures the winter wore away, and spring, “more sweet, more gay,” returned. The General’s brother, Maj. R. C. Morgan, late of A. P. Hill’s staff, was ordered to take command of a regiment under General Morgan, which was then forming, and which was afterward called the Fourteenth Kentucky Cavalry. The scouts, by order of the General, reported to the then Colonel, as our chief said “only temporarily,” but we never left him until captured. Our letter in the Fourteenth was B, and we were the Colonel’s pets. At the time we were attached to the regiment it was encamped on Oby River, not far from the State line, and about ten miles from the town of Burksville, Kentucky.

There were several new companies in our regiment whose officers knew very little about military tactics. Company B, because of its long experience, was styled “Veterans.” We were required by the Colonel to drill these new companies, which was done daily for several weeks in succession. The sergeants of Company B were oftentimes in command of the battalion on drill; others drilled companies, our corporals commanded platoons, and privates were in charge of sections, with their own company officers in the ranks learning the arts of war, alongside of their own men. I am pretty sure they will never forget the three drills daily during our days of instruction. Company B certainly impressed them with the belief that they were not only veterans, but men of energy and of “long wind.” When they had received their education and their “sheepskins” in proof our attention was called in other directions.

Scouting again became our duty, very often making short raids into Kentucky, and patroling the Cumberland generally. I will give you only one of our many expeditions, and that because you will probably take more interest in it, a near relative of your family having been in command.

A great many scouting parties had been detached to Albany so frequently that it had become a disagreeable duty, the instructions given them being nearly the same every time. When the time arrived for Company B to go on duty it happened that the Albany scout was again the order of the day. The instructions on reporting at headquarters were not only short, but simple and easily understood. They were, “Proceed to Albany with thirty men, and find out where the enemy is.”

Determined to do so, we filed out on the Albany road, but not before Captain “Tom” remarked, “I hope that you will make the necessary discoveries, for not until then will these long marches cease.”

Vowing that we would never return save with the intelligence required, we galloped off. Crossing the Oby and Wolf rivers we commenced to ascend the hills beyond, in the severest fall of rain that man ever witnessed, which continued till dark, and when the detachment was within four miles of Albany. The water ran down the sides of the mountain in torrents, and it was with great difficulty that we ascended. Our horses could scarcely keep their feet with such a fall of water against them.

Halting two miles from town and leaving all but three men and a guide to await our return, we entered with caution the county-seat of Clinton County. Not a light was visible to cheer the wanderers, and all was still as death. The noise made by the clattering of our horses’ feet sounded hollow and “passing strange.” It seemed as if we were hundreds of feet below terra firma, passing through and exploring some subterranean village. Well might it have been appropriately called “the Deserted Village,” from its gloomy, desolate, and extremely sad appearance.

After an interview with an old Southerner living near the town, who had nothing reliable to communicate, and finding no enemy, we returned to the place where the rest of the scouts had been left. Having previously decided to send all of the men with the exception of six and the guide to camp under the charge of a sergeant, we selected the best scouts and horses.

Returning again to Albany, we took the Monticello road, with the full and express determination to find the enemy if there was any on top of the ground. When daylight appeared we had far advanced into Wayne County, over which the notorious Yankee bushwhacker, “Tinker Dave Beatty,” ruled with an iron will. Although the actions of some of the inhabitants looked very suspicious, yet our little band advanced without any interruption, but on the alert.

Crossing Poplar Mountain and passing into the valley, we halted to see a friendly doctor; but not until our picket had been sent forward in case of a surprise, for we suspected that the enemy was not far off. Calling to see the doctor we found him absent, but his lady informed us that he had gone to visit a patient near the “Yankee encampment,” and would soon return. It was exciting to one’s nerves to hear that the enemy was so near.

Mounting our horses we advanced scarce three miles, when we halted opposite a widow’s house, whose son was in Wolford’s Yankee Kentucky Cavalry. All of the surroundings intimated that the enemy was near, but nothing save a sight of him would do us. Ordering two of the boys ahead for “lookouts,” with the intention of soon following, we dismounted to inspect the widow’s establishment to see if there was anything about that had Uncle Sam on it, but discovered nothing worth carrying away. I am, however, convinced of the fact that the widow sent a courier to camp to apprise them of our whereabouts.

Just as we mounted there came the sharp report of a Minie, then another, and still another in quick succession. We soon learned that there was something in that direction that had “U. S.” upon it. As proof of that fact, there came the videttes, flying like the wind, from whom I learned that a large force of Yankee cavalry was hotly pursuing them. I quickly instructed the guide and those with me to fall rapidly back to the gap through which the road passes over Poplar Mountain, then gave them orders to dismount and fight upon reaching there and if possible to hold the gap, and I would join them in a short while.

The place selected was one that had been closely observed while passing it, being a position possessing advantages closely resembling the Pass of Thermopylae, so often quoted in history, and where a chosen few, under Leonidas, defeated such multitudes. Do not let my comparisons amuse you too much. I will confess they are sometimes used strangely and no doubt inappropriately; yet there must be some likeness, you will admit. Nor do I wish you to think the commander of this little band a Leonidas, or the gap in the mountain Thermopylae. Most assuredly not; but think you what it pleases, for it is time to end this topic.

Here come the Yankee cavalry, full tilt, the scouts being already out of sight. But the “Black Horse,” which had so often proven himself true, thereby gaining his rider’s entire confidence, stood firm, with his head to the foe, violently champing his bit, eagerly and nervously watching the approach of the then over-confident enemy, awaiting the word to go. As they turned an angle in the road, less than one hundred yards distant, we took the liberty of counting them. I counted seventeen, and still they came; and as they came the cry was “Halt! Halt!”—a word with no meaning in this case.

The “Black Horse” was still standing deathly still. The enemy opened the firing about sixty yards off, to which one of Colt’s—English—best replied twice in quick succession, and then the gallant “Black,” with his rider’s permission, executed one of the most brilliant feats in horse history. Rearing up and posing gracefully, he changed his front at one leap, and quick as thought was in a dead run, followed by the Yanks, firing and yelling, but to no purpose, for the “Black” had the heels on them.

Dropping reins and turning half around in the saddle, several well-directed shots were aimed back when occasion required it and opportunity offered, and the shots seemed to carry some little influence with them. We noticed that those leading the column were not so eager or so particular to use their rowels too often, for fear of getting disagreeably near.

When near the gap, where my men were lying in ambush, I reined up, hoping to draw the enemy on; but the situation of the country looked so suspicious that they held up also. Thinking they would pursue, I again rode rapidly forward, passing through the gap without seeing a man, yet knowing that they were there and on the alert.

But the suspicious foe could not be prevailed upon or enticed to follow a single horseman through, imagining, doubtless, that there was a larger force awaiting them in ambuscade. We remained there for some time, then perceiving that it was not their intention to advance on us, and apprehending a flank movement, we slowly withdrew on the road to Albany.

Two roads from beyond the gap led into town, and by using one of them we could be intercepted. Knowing this, it was thought wise to leave town over night, and strike the road a mile beyond, which we did with the assistance of our guide.

On reaching Wolf River at midnight we found its banks overflowed, which necessitated our swimming across with our horses. The same condition existed at Oby, and we did not arrive at camp until a little after daylight, when we at once reported all we knew to the Colonel, and then went to our headquarters to rest, having been in our saddles nearly fifty hours. Much to the delight of the scouts, this was the last foray in the direction of Monticello.

Shortly after this occurrence the brigade had a very severe engagement with the same forces at Greasy Creek, near Monticello; but we routed them and drove them across the country so rapidly that quite a number were drowned.

The General soon after this moved his command down to Carthage, crossing the river above at Hardee’s Ford. He quietly advanced on the town, which was garrisoned by a brigade, including infantry, cavalry, and artillery. With his plans for attack almost in readiness, the General would have issued orders for an assault had it not been for the instructions that reached him from General Bragg, ordering him to make his last great raid, which ended so unpleasantly.

I should have first related that the brigade, under the command of Colonel Duke, before the fight at Greasy Creek, made a raid to Alexandria and Lebanon, via Statesville and Beards’ Mills, with the intention of cutting Minty’s cavalry brigade off from Murfreesboro, forcing him to fight. But he would not stand, except to skirmish and retreat. Company B continued the pursuit until within their lines. It was afterward reported by a Yankee correspondent and published in the _Louisville Journal_, that Minty’s cavalry had met and defeated John Morgan near Lebanon, Tennessee, the article also telling of a “gallant sabre charge” the Yankees had made, and what they did not cut into pieces was run out of the country, etc. It was described in such glowing terms that on paper it seemed most terrific. What a pity it was false! All the charges made with their sabres on that day were not only few, but “very far between” them and us, they using their spurs to make it farther.

When General Morgan withdrew his forces from Carthage to go to the south bank of the river he ordered each regiment to move by different roads in the direction of Burksville, where the command was to be concentrated preparatory to the “gallop” through Kentucky, Indiana and Ohio. The “gay Fourteenth” marched via Liberty, McMinnville, Sparta, Cooksville, and Livingston, reaching the encampment near the river opposite Burksville on the last day of June, 1863.

As soon as all the preparations necessary to a long march were made, such as issuing rations and ammunition, and providing for the “lame, sick, and lazy,” the crossing of the Cumberland was begun on the evening of the 30th of June. The first and second companies—A and B—of the Fourteenth Kentucky succeeded in crossing, although the river could not be contained within the limits of its banks; but it was by a difficult swim. On gaining the north bank we were sent on an outpost that night. It was not much unlike the crossing of the Delaware in the years gone by, the difference being that “the Father of his Country” had to contend against large masses of floating ice, with his enemy in the rear, while the “horse thieves,” upon their horses, and armed and equipped for fight, with the enemy in front, had to swim a boisterous river, covered with large drifts of trees, a feat almost as difficult and far more dangerous than crossing a river in boats, amid the ice.

On the evening of the second day of July our forces—twenty-two hundred strong—had safely, with two exceptions, reached the bank north of the river at three crossings near Burksville. The Fourteenth, meanwhile, had all crossed, and gone to the front in the direction of Glasgow, Kentucky.

You will notice that so far I have, intentionally, omitted to mention the loss of men. Not that I do not remember, but because it would be a sorrowful task, and a subject too sacredly sad for me to handle, since many of them were my intimate friends and loved companions, and doubly endeared to me on my finding them in the same line of battle with myself.

Early in the morning of the second we were withdrawn from the Glasgow road, and passed through Burksville on the road to Columbia, taking charge of our front in that direction. As our column was passing through town General Morgan detained about twenty members of Company B for special duty. All of the members of the company were eager and anxious to go with their General, but he only had use for the twenty. Soon after the regiment left town, and the now “gay twenty,” with the General in front, cantered out on the Glasgow road, on which the enemy had been found in force a few miles from the river, with the object of making a feint in our favor.

Our true line of march was via Columbia, but we wished to make a diversion to impress the Yankees with the belief that our march was to be via Glasgow. Going a few miles, we were met by a Yankee cavalry regiment, who changed front to rear immediately upon the sight of our scout, using their rowels with little mercy. Confusion and the twenty scouts were soon among them, and what the former did not do, the pistols of the latter accomplished.

The actions of one of the boys strangely and particularly impressed me. A few days before the regiment that we were so hotly pressing had captured and killed this scout’s brother. Learning this when pursuing, he was one of the first among them, firing right and left, oftentimes when his navy was against “his man,” five of whom felt the effects, while the tears were streaming down his cheeks. I could not help thinking, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.”

When the enemy realized the smallness of the force that was chasing them, they halted in a strong position and showed fight; but our General, who seemed more like our gallant Captain of old than he had for some time, was too shrewd for them. Quickly detaching a single scout around to their left flank secretly, with orders to fire his gun and navies in rapid succession into their line, proved, much to our amusement, to have the desired effect. Back they flew again, using their rowels as vigorously as before. But we were soon in their rear, making good use of time and pistols. Sabres were useless ornaments in our service. The trooper that attempted to carry one would be forever after a laughing stock for the entire command.

All of the twenty were ahead of the General, who was on his favorite “Glencoe,” with hat in hand, cheering the boys with “Charge them, boys; charge them!”—and right handsomely did they execute his orders.

Yet, on flew the Yankees, and after them went the twenty, in a dense cloud of dust, never halting until we had chased the Yankee cavalry through a brigade of their own infantry then in line of battle and supported by artillery, which the immense cloud of dust prevented us from seeing. We charged them so near that they were afraid of opening on us for fear of doing injury to their own troops.

One of the boys, riding near the General, saw the line first, and caught the reins of the General’s horse, stopping him instantly. At the same moment a line of bristling bayonets were pointed out to the General. All saw it, and quickly wheeling our horses, with spurs in flanks, went out in true Indian style, lying flat on our horses, perhaps a little under.

When we had cleared the line so they could open fire, and not fire into their own line, the whole line poured a volley at short range right into us. But “fortune,” they say, “favors the brave.” Only one man received a wound, Captain Tom of Company B, whose rein arm was broken, and who was afterward, much to his regret, left at Burksville. With this exception we got back to town safely.

At an early hour in the morning of the 3d, we were again in the saddle, en route to Columbia, Col. R. C. Morgan’s regiment, the Fourteenth, in advance. This honor the General entrusted to our charge to be kept untarnished. How well the Fourteenth succeeded had best be told by others than myself. My object is to tell you “some” of the events that occurred.

The column passed up the same valley through which we marched the first of the year on our return after the Christmas raid, when a large number of horses disappeared, and the General promised the ladies that he would hang and shoot every one of his scouts, without a court martial, etc., for such uncourtly, ungallant, and unsoldierly actions toward “good Union people.” It afforded the members of Company B much sport as they rode by these places of interest.

Gaining the upland, the command halted long enough for the regimental commanders to read “special orders,” which were to govern the troops during the march.

The advance moved on to Columbia about noon, where we found a squadron of the First Kentucky Yankee Cavalry in possession of the town. Driving their pickets in we advanced to the edge of the town, where we rode into line and dismounted to fight.

In a few moments we were closely engaged with the enemy, commanded by a Kentuckian, Captain Carter, afterward killed or shot by a member of Company B. Carter fought his force well, being shielded by the houses; but as soon as he was wounded they retreated. He, with other wounded, fell in our hands. As only a brave man can do, he talked with the soldier who visited him a few minutes before he died, telling the Confederate that he was a gallant soldier and that he shot him in self-defense and while in the service of his country. The gallant Captain surely met his fate soldierly.

Supplying our wants we left town and marched within two miles of Green River bridge (not the railroad bridge), which was defended by a regiment of Yankee infantry inside of a strong stockade. Placing our picket out, we encamped for the night.