Chapter V: The Chickamauga Campaign

I found the regiment on Duck River in the suburbs of Shelbyville. I was glad to be with the boys again. I did not rest long, for the regiment was busy making detail for digging fortifications, and I worked with pick and shovel.

The two great evils attending war are drinking and gambling. In 1863 the drink habit was much lessened in our army because the drinks were scarce and hard to get. Mr. McGrew kept a drug store on the Square in Shelbyville, and by some means it was ascertained that he had some whisky in the cellar, and one night some soldiers got into it and took the whole stock, consisting of about half a barrel; and the old mill, situated on the river, was frequently robbed of its stock; and in unloading commissaries at the depot the soldiers would make _mistakes_ and throw meat under the depot, and at nightfall bring it to camp. The mania for gambling continued unabated. I have seen men gamble all night, and do a good deal of nodding on duty the next day. If they did not have money to gamble with, chips for fun would not be much amusement. I have seen on the march, just previous to an engagement, bits of pasteboard (decks of cards) scattered along so that the line of march could almost be designated by the scraps, and also by letters torn and scattered, because a soldier did not wish to be found dead on the field of battle with a deck of cards in his pocket, or prying eyes to read his letters from home; but I have never yet seen a soldier discard the little pocket Testament that his mother gave him when she sent him forth with her prayers.

Shelbyville was a place that could easily be flanked, and Rosecrans was preparing for it. General Bragg hoped to give him battle on better vantage ground (for us), and selected Tullahoma, and we prepared to retire to that point in good order if General Rosecrans would permit. Our army commenced to retire—the infantry in front, General Wheeler’s cavalry in the rear. Early in the morning I was on detail to proceed to the Nashville and Chattanooga depot and load up the commissaries. We worked with a will, and thought that we could get everything in the cars, but some of the detail early in the day found a lot of whisky and commenced to get drunk. About 3 P.M. we heard a tremendous boom, boom of our artillery on the Square, followed by a fusillade of musketry. The Federal cavalry had approached from the front and flank. Lieutenant J. R. McDaniel’s (or Wiggins’s) battery made a gallant resistance, and succeeded in getting his pieces away with the loss of only two. He lost a number of his men, however, the enemy riding into their midst and cutting them with sabers. In attempting to cross the Duck River bridge General Wheeler found it blockaded and swam his horse above it, having the belt of his sword shot away. As soon as I saw the stampede on the Square I ran into the depot, got some clothing and shoes out of a box there, and went down under the depot (which had open sides) and bivouacked in the dust with hogs and fleas, which were very industrious. After leaving the Square the Federal cavalry rode rapidly toward the depot. One of my detail, seeing them coming, staggered out near the Barksdale House and said that he could whip the whole Yankee army. It was only a short while before he was in Nashville, and later in Fort Delaware. I remained with my companions (hogs and fleas, and the dust made a pretty soft bed) till late in the night, and then by the aid of the stars kept in the direction of Tullahoma, where I found the First Tennessee next day in a beautiful black-jack grove about one mile north of the town. In front of the grove an avenue some two hundred feet wide by one mile long had been cut out, and it was a splendid place to fight in the open; but the enemy chose not to fight there. General Rosecrans’s scouts came within three miles of us, our cavalry interposed, and General Starnes was mortally wounded. After a few days’ rest we commenced to retire toward Chattanooga, and it was a rough march over the mountains, but nothing in comparison with Cheat Mountain. Soon after reaching Chattanooga we were put to work building two immense forts—one near where the Stanton House is now, and the other near the city cemetery, in the eastern suburbs of the city. The only service that the forts rendered was to conceal in the dirt bacon stolen from the cars, and hid there until a favorable time to remove it to the camp.

We had been in Chattanooga but a short time when General Rosecrans occupied Walden’s Ridge and Raccoon Mountain. About the 15th of August our army moved out of Chattanooga. I did not know where we were going. In fact, it is not the business of a private soldier to know anything except to obey orders. I did not like to leave the forts, upon which we had expended so much labor, knowing that in a short while the enemy would be enjoying the fruits of our labor. We moved down the valley via Rossville, McLemore’s Cove, and next day reached Lafayette, Ga., where we camped; the following day we faced again toward Chattanooga, and early next morning crossed Chickamauga River at Lee and Gordon’s Mill, and were soon drawn up in battle array, when General Maney stood up in his stirrups and made a speech to the Tennessee boys, saying: “We shall soon have an opportunity of striking again for our homes and firesides, and to acquit ourselves like men worthy of the old Volunteer State.” Soon the firing of pickets gave notice that the battle of Chickamauga was about to begin. As the First Tennessee Regiment moved in line through a thick wood of oak and pine, we struck the enemy, who were posted on a hill much higher than our position. General Cheatham rode in advance of the line with hat in hand, and said: “Come on, boys.” The First Tennessee charged gallantly amidst a terrible cannonade. A shell exploded in front of us, a piece striking the shoulder of Lieutenant W. H. Webster, of the Maury Grays, from which he soon bled to death. The enemy’s infantry retired before our charge, and we reached the crest of a ridge and were ordered to “lie down.” While in this position Ensign Joe Campbell raised up on his arm, and a shot from the enemy pierced his brain, and he was instantly killed. The next day we were moved to the right of our army and held in reserve nearly the entire day, and late in the evening participated in the final charge over the enemy’s breastworks of black-jack logs, and Chickamauga was ours, and the enemy on retreat to Chattanooga, ten miles distant. General Bragg has been much criticised because he did not capture General Rosecrans’s army before it was safely ensconced in the forts upon which we had expended so much labor. If General Bragg had had a sufficient force of fresh cavalry, the feat might have been accomplished; but it must be borne in mind that we had been on the move some five days and nights, with little sleep and short rations, and when the final charge came, about dusk of September 20, our men fell down with the dead and wounded of the enemy inside of their former breastworks, and went to sleep. The next day we moved leisurely up to the crest of Missionary Ridge, and we lost comrade Eugene Topp, of Pulaski, who was shot by the enemy’s pickets as we ascended the ridge. From Missionary Ridge we could see the enemy scattered around Chattanooga, and occupying our former forts. We moved down from the ridge and went into camp at the base, facing toward Chattanooga. We also occupied Lookout Mountain, and had one piece of artillery on the Point; but we could not throw a shell to the Nashville and Chattanooga depot, which was about three miles distant on an air line. Soon afterwards General Grant succeeded General Rosecrans, and he had a lot of guns casemated at Moccasin Point. We could look down on his batteries, but we could not depress our pieces so as to give him any trouble. A party of us would gather at the Point to attract his fire, and as soon as we would see the smoke, down we would fall, and the shell would whiz over us. Our pickets were on the bench of the mountain below the Craven House, and extended up Lookout Creek. A shell from Moccasin Point killed and wounded five of our men at one time. I was on picket duty one day on Lookout Creek, a Federal on the other side. You could take a run and jump across. I asked him how rations were. He replied that they were living on ox-tail soup. He said that Joe Wheeler had burned a number of bridges on the Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad between Nashville and Chattanooga, and that General Grant had started a train of some two hundred wagons with commissary stores, and when they reached Sequatchie Valley Joe Wheeler again appeared on the scene and burned the entire train; the army was therefore greatly reduced in supplies.

In 1863 Chattanooga was not much of a town; Market was the principal street, and that was filled with a lot of insignificant shanties, hence General Grant’s army camped over the hills upon which beautiful residences are now located. His tents extended from the fort near the Stanton House to the river, while General Hooker’s tents covered Raccoon Mountain. From the top of Lookout Mountain it was a grand scene at night—the bright camp fires of this large army; and at nine o’clock the many bugles would blow taps, after the music from many bands had floated upward. On the night of November 24, 1863, we moved off of Lookout Mountain and took our position on Missionary Ridge. Part of the First Tennessee Regiment line was directly over the tunnel. From this position we could clearly see the entire line of General Grant’s army moving out of Chattanooga in order of battle, extending nearly to Rossville. Just below where the Cincinnati Southern bridge is now located could be seen General Sherman’s army crossing on steamboats, and it did not take him a great while to get a battery on one bench of Missionary Ridge, which was separated from our ridge by Chickamauga River and the Western and Atlantic Railway. I think his position was some higher than ours, and his battery annoyed us without doing much damage. General Grant’s lines were drawing nearer and nearer to us, and our batteries were belching forth, and we could now and then see his men scatter from an exploding shell. Nearer and nearer they came until we could see the glittering steel and the flash of the officers’ swords in the sunlight; nearer and nearer they came until lost to sight at the base of Missionary Ridge. We then took our position on the crest of the ridge, lying down and waiting for them to come in sight. We did not have a great while to wait. Soon we saw the long line of bluecoats advancing. We were hugging the ridge so closely that nothing but our heads peered over; so it was not so easy to see us, as the bushes were quite thick and many large trees were on the ridge. When the bluecoats got within a hundred feet of us the firing commenced, and they continued to advance, when Colonel Fields said: “Fire, boys, and charge.” Down the ridge we went, the enemy keeping ahead of us. We got so close to them that Colonel Fields hit a Federal on the head with a rock, and comrade John Branch grabbed at the colors, tearing out a piece, but the sergeant got away with them. We followed them to the base of the ridge, where the town of Sherman Heights is now located. Finding them in the trenches which we had once made, we returned to the top of the ridge. It was now dusk, and we were still in line of battle and drawing some rations, when the order came to get away as quietly and quickly as possible. General Grant had pierced our center, and all were in danger of capture. We were the worst disappointed soldiers in the army. We thought our whole line as far as Rossville had made the same movement that we had, and would next move on General Grant and capture his army before it could get to our forts in Chattanooga.

Well, we did not stand upon the order of our going, but went out as rapidly as possible, every fellow taking care of himself. We went down many ridges and crossed the Chickamauga River on the Western and Atlantic Railroad bridge, and afterwards burned it. The next day we came to Chickamauga Station. There was a large pile of bacon there ready to be burned rather than to have it fall into the hands of the enemy. I fixed my bayonet and selected a small side of bacon through which I ran the bayonet, and was marching along thinking what a nice fry I would have for supper, when the enemy’s guns opened on us, and the skirmish known as Cat Creek took place. I had to unfix my bayonet in order to load my gun, and the bacon was lost. Samuel Seay was wounded in this skirmish, and he begged the boys not to leave him in the hands of the enemy. We told him we would not, unless they got us; so four of us shouldered him, and we would now and then call for relief. We marched till late in the night before reaching Ringgold; and although Sam Seay was a light man, he got heavier and heavier. At one place where we crossed the Chickamauga River I got very wet, and it was a cold night—November 26. I rolled up my trousers as high as I could, and four of us started across with Sam, and I got into a hole up to my waist. Finally we reached a clump of black-jacks near Ringgold, through which ran a country road well filled with autumn leaves, and here we made our bed. We were sleeping soundly at sunrise when General Walker came riding swiftly, saying: “Get up, men; the Yankees will soon be here, and they will cut your throats.” We moved out promptly, and as we had been the rear guard the day previous, we were now in the advance. We had just reached the narrow place where the stream is spanned by the railroad bridge, when the battle of Ringgold was fought; but we continued our retrograde movement until Dalton was reached, and, after camping there for some days and the weather getting cold, we built winter quarters south of Dalton.