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A journal containing an accurate and interesting account of the hardships, sufferings, battles, defeat, and captivity of those heroic Kentucky volunteers and regulars, commanded by General Winchester, in the year 1812-13 / Also, two narratives, by men that were wounded in the battles on the River Raisin, and taken captive by the Indians cover

A journal containing an accurate and interesting account of the hardships, sufferings, battles, defeat, and captivity of those heroic Kentucky volunteers and regulars, commanded by General Winchester, in the year 1812-13 / Also, two narratives, by men that were wounded in the battles on the River Raisin, and taken captive by the Indians

Chapter 7: THE BATTLE OF RAISIN, ON THE 22D OF JANUARY, 1813.
By Elias Darnell
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About This Book

A firsthand journal of a militia campaign in the 1812 conflict, recounting marches, supply shortages, maneuvers, a decisive defeat, and the subsequent capture and treatment of prisoners by Native forces. The author records daily camp life, battlefield experiences at the River Raisin, and the emotional and physical toll on Kentucky volunteers and regular soldiers. Entries include official orders and organizational details alongside eyewitness observations, and the volume concludes with two appended narratives by wounded men who were taken captive, presented with an emphasis on accuracy and acknowledgment of differing witness recollections.

THE BATTLE OF RAISIN,
ON THE 22D OF JANUARY, 1813.

On Raisin darkness reigned around,
And silent was the tented ground,
Where weary soldiers slept profound,
Far in the wintery wilderness.
No danger did the sentry fear,
No wakeful watch at midnight drear;
But ah! the foe approaches near,
Through forests frowning awfully.
And ere the sun had risen bright,
Fast flashing ’mid the stormy fight,
The thundering cannon’s livid light
Glared on the eye most frightfully.
Then deadly flew the balls of lead!
Then many of the foemen bled,
And thrice their banded legion fled,
Before Kentucky’s bravery.
And long our heroes’ swords prevail:
But hist! that deep and doleful wail—
Ah! freedom’s sons begin to fail,
Oppressed by numbers battling.
Rise! rise! ye volunteers, arise!
Behold! your right hand column flies!
And hark! yon shout which rends the skies!
Where Indians yell tumultuously.
Rush o’er the bloody field of fame,
Drive back the savage whence he came!
For glory ’waits the victor’s name,
Returning home exultingly.
’Tis done. The dreadful fight is o’er;
Thick clouds of smoke are seen no more—
The snowy plain is red with gore,
Where fell the friends of liberty.
Campbell.