Confederate wizards of the saddle /

On the 14th of February, 1863, a small brigade of Kentucky cavalry assembled at McMinnville, Tennessee. Seven hundred and fifty men constituted the organization. The 8th Kentucky cavalry, of which Roy S. Cluke was colonel, Major Robert S. Bullock commanding, was to form the basis of the men to be used in an expedition into Central Kentucky. Lieutenant Colonel Cicero Coleman of the regiment had been seriously wounded at Hartsville on the 7th of December, and still suffering, was unable to go. In addition to the 8th Kentucky cavalry, the 9th Kentucky cavalry furnished two companies under the command of Colonel Robert G. Stoner, who was one of the bravest and most enterprising of Morgan’s men. These constituted the first battalion. Companies C and I of Gano’s regiment and Company A of the 2nd Kentucky, under command of Major Theophilus Steele, constituted the second battalion. Later, in Wayne County, Companies D and I of Chenault’s (the 11th) regiment, were added to Stoner’s battalion. Colonel Cluke was allowed a couple of brass cannon, howitzers, affectionately called by Morgan’s men the “bull pups.” They never did very great damage, but they made a loud noise. They looked to an enemy much bigger than they were, and if they were not very effective with their shots, they were oftentimes extremely forceful with their “barking.”

No seven hundred and fifty men were ever more ably commanded. Colonel Cluke was not only a brave but a brilliant officer.

General Morgan furnished his two brothers as part of the staff. The best possible material was designated for this service. The men chosen for this raid were thoroughly acquainted with most of the territory through which Colonel Cluke would necessarily have to pass. The companies of the 11th would know Madison and the adjoining counties, Companies C and I of the 3rd Kentucky (Gano’s) would know Scott and Franklin Counties. Company A of the 2nd would be familiar with almost the entire Bluegrass, and Cluke’s own regiment would know Kentucky from Maysville to Springfield and Somerset. He started out with the advantage of men who had full and complete knowledge of the country through which he was to operate. This added much to the efficiency of the little brigade. Lieutenant Shuck, of the 8th Kentucky, was given the command of the advance guard. The importance of the advance guard in cavalry campaigns cannot be over-estimated. It requires officers of great coolness, of much dash, dauntless courage, and men who never counted the cost and who would follow in the face of any danger wherever they were ordered to go. In such an expedition scouts would also play a most useful and prominent part. To Lieutenant Hopkins, of the 2nd, and S. P. Cunningham, of the 8th, were given the choice and control of the scouts. Neither the advance guard nor the scouts made a very large force. All told, they did not exceed forty, but these were men upon whom any commander could rely at any hour of day or night and in any place whither they might come.

At McMinnville a hundred rounds of ammunition were counted out and six days’ rations were issued to the men upon the morning that they marched away. Nature did not appear to be in harmony with the purposes of this expedition. The weather was extremely inclement, and, for that part of Tennessee, extraordinarily cold. Hardly had the line been formed until sleet and rain and snow came violently down. These, with the tramping of the horses’ feet, soon made veritable sloughs of the dirt roads over which the march was progressing. The line pursued ran through Sparta, Obey City, Jamestown, in Tennessee, to the Kentucky border. This country presented a scene of universal desolation. In times of peace it was not fully able to supply the needs of its own inhabitants, and now that armies had traversed it for more than a year, there was not sufficient forage at any one place to feed one company of horsemen. The six days’ coarse rations given the men in their haversacks at McMinnville would keep them from want, but the horses, with hardest possible service in the midst of fearfully disagreeable weather, could only hope for scantiest and most insufficient provender. The entire one hundred and ten miles from McMinnville to the Cumberland River had been, before this period, practically eaten out of house and home, and there was little left for the strangers who might pass these mountain ways.

The Cumberland River was the only real barrier to this small force as it entered Kentucky. Once it was passed, there would be so many roads for the invaders to take that it would be impossible for the defenders to either stop their march or seriously impede their journeyings. The banks of the Cumberland were full. The Federals on the north side had taken all boats across to prevent passage by an enemy. Luckily, a canoe was found hidden away, large enough to convey Colonel Stoner and Lieutenant Hopkins and several men over the stream. These silently and stealthily paddled across. Some countryman, without the fear of “blue coats” before his eyes, had stored this craft in the bushes along a small tributary. He had probably used it in secret ferrying of goods to the south bank. With plenty of everything on the north side, it was not treason to keep a canoe hidden, with which, when no picket was present, or his eye not open, to run across the boundary calico, sugar, coffee or other necessities, so essential to the war-despoiled women and children on the south side, upon whom starvation and want had laid heavy hand.

Colonel Stoner and his cavalry comrades were fortunate and shrewd enough to surprise and capture the Federal pickets who were posted to guard Stigall’s Ferry, a short distance north of Burnside, where Colonel Cluke had proposed and now determined to cross. A couple of flatboats and a coal barge were discovered amongst the Federal possessions, and these were quickly brought over. Now, in the face of vigorous foes, action was the watchword of the hour. With their saddles and guns, the men hastily rushed into the flatboats and poled and paddled over the stream. A more desperate mode of crossing was assigned to the horses. It was still bitter cold, and the poor beasts were forced into the river and compelled to swim its rapid currents. They could not speak, and they hesitated to plunge in; but the shouts and belaborings of their apparently cruel masters were more potent than their fears, and with only their noses above the water, and their bodies beneath the frigid waves, lapped into motion by the piercing winds, they swam diagonally across to the opposite shore. Already weakened by a trying march of more than a hundred miles, so great was the shock to the animals that a number of them were chilled to death and died upon the bank as they emerged from the water.

The severity of the winter rendered very rapid marching impossible. On the 19th of February, the little army reached Somerset, the county seat of Pulaski. A strong Federal force was stationed there, but alarmed by reports of an army of Confederates approaching from Knoxville, they hurriedly retreated to Danville, forty-five miles away and left a clear road for Colonel Cluke. Here a full supply of stores had been collected. Their guardians were in such a great hurry to ride to Danville that they forgot, or neglected, to destroy them. This was a gracious windfall for the Confederates. The Government and the sutlers had the very things these benumbed men and horses most needed. After supplying his tired beasts and hungry soldiers with all that was necessary to comfort, warm and feed them, and burning the remainder, Colonel Cluke made a forced march of twenty-eight miles to Mount Vernon. If he accomplished his work it was important to surprise his enemies, and in such work Colonel Cluke was a master hand. Finding nothing here, he pushed on to Richmond, Kentucky. The roads were wet, sloppy, slushy, and still blinding snowstorms and heavy rains with chilling currents, rushing down from the north, attempted to bid defiance to these sturdy riders, to stay their advance and render their march more harassing and tedious.

Lieutenant Cunningham, who was with Lieutenant Hopkins in command of the scouts, was a man of almost superhuman courage and of a genius and resource that entitled him to higher command. A few miles out on the pike from Richmond, advancing with eight men, he found a picket post of the Federals, consisting of four videttes. Challenged, he declared that he and his followers were friends. Dressed in blue coats, such as they were wearing, and which were a part of the Somerset find, he persuaded the Federals that they were a detachment of Woolford’s Federal cavalry which was returning from Tennessee to Kentucky to assist in repelling the raid of Morgan’s men. He told the questioning videttes that all the Federal forces were now concentrating at Lexington, that General John C. Breckinridge, by way of Cumberland Gap, had already entered the State with ten thousand Confederate infantry. The sergeant quickly became communicative and gave Cunningham a statement of the location and strength of all the Federal commands, and finally invited the Confederates to go to a house a short distance away, where the remainder of the picket detail was stationed. Cunningham cheerfully accepted the proffered hospitality of his new-made friends, but upon reaching the house he was somewhat embarrassed to find that twenty-four soldiers constituted this outpost. He persuaded the commander to send back one of his men with two of the Confederates to get information about some other of the Federal forces that were coming a short distance behind. The Federal, thus despatched, when out of sight of the post, quickly found himself a prisoner. Hopkins, Cunningham’s associate commander of scouts, in a brief while, arrived on the scene with eight new blue-coated riders. The Confederates, now two-thirds in number of the Federal garrison, without parley or argument immediately announced their identity and attacked their hospitable and surprised friends, and killed one, wounded two, and made all the others prisoners. The generosity of the course pursued by Cunningham was open to serious criticism, but warriors do not carry copies of Chesterfield’s rules in their pockets and find little use for their precepts and teachings on cavalry raids.

No outpost was ever captured more cleverly or more completely surprised, and few similar incidents reflect more credit on the actors.

Ten miles away there were two hundred and fifty Federal cavalry. This was just exactly what Cluke wanted. Fresh horses, cavalry saddles and ammunition would be a great comfort to the men who rode with him, but the story of Breckinridge’s coming had reached Richmond. Rumors traveled in those days on the winds—and the Federal cavalry hastily decamped. Major Steele, with three companies, pursued these fleeing troops. He overtook them at Comb’s Ferry, on the Kentucky River, twelve miles from Lexington, and, fighting and running, drove the Federal column into the city. In attempting to capture some videttes, who had indicated they would surrender, one of the Federals fired his rifle at Steele’s breast, but a thick Mexican blanket folded about his body saved his life and protected him from injury except a broken rib. It was a serious misfortune that a man so brave and enterprising, so thoroughly acquainted with the geography of the territory over which the operations of the next thirty-five days would extend, should at this critical moment, became incapacitated for active service.

Colonel Cluke was now far into Kentucky. He was over two hundred miles from where he started. He had been out nine days. He had no easy job. He had worked his way, he had seen much of the enemy and at every point had mystified and alarmed the Federal commands. He and his subordinates had managed to escape from very serious battle. Detachments were sent in every direction to increase the terror of the Federal forces at Lexington, Mount Sterling, Paris. They threatened, attacked and captured several important positions, and his enemies, magnifying his forces, sat down inactive until they should determine whether Breckinridge and the ten thousand infantry behind this dashing cavalry advance were really coming, and until they could count Cluke’s followers and figure up just what they would go against if they might force him to battle.

Cluke’s men who lived in the immediate vicinity of Lexington, Mount Sterling, Winchester and Richmond were granted temporary furloughs in order to visit their friends, renew their wardrobes, and, if desirable, replace their mounts, and enjoy the association with their loved ones whom they had left four and a half months before. Only the complete mystification and demoralization of his foes could justify so astute a leader as Cluke in risking such a proceeding. Happy days for these bold riders. The four and a half months of absence had been full of excitement, adventures and war experiences. The march out of Kentucky, the Battle of Hartsville, the Christmas raid, were stories that sounded well in the telling and impressed those who stayed at home with the courage and marvelous achievements of the narrators who, in the partial eyes of home folks, at least, were transformed into real heroes,—these boys who had gone away to fight for the South.

Ceaseless activity marked every hour of those who had not been furloughed. Demonstrations on Paris confined the garrison there, while Stoner, moving back to Mount Sterling, found a Federal Kentucky cavalry regiment, which, with a small force, he promptly attacked and drove away. He captured many prisoners and the road by which these Federals retreated was strewn with overcoats, guns, haversacks and wagons, which unmistakably demonstrated that some of those who were hunting Cluke did not just now desire a formal introduction.

On the 24th of February Colonel Cluke had concentrated his command at Mount Sterling, and the whole day was spent in collecting and distributing horses, equipments and arms. By this time the Federals had become somewhat doubtful and inquisitive about the strength of the invaders. The ten thousand infantry did not show up from Cumberland Gap, and they began to realize that the Confederate detachment, which had given them all this trouble and hard riding and had alarmed them so terribly, was probably not, after all, a very great army. All sorts of dreams and visions came to the Federal pursuers. Colonel Runkle of the 45th Ohio Regiment, Acting Brigadier General, reported: “I was confident of cutting the enemy to pieces between Richmond and the Kentucky River.” Of his march to Winchester he wrote, “The inhabitants reported that they threw their dead into the stream (Slate) and carried off the wounded.”

A Federal cavalry brigade made a dash at Mount Sterling, Cluke’s headquarters. Only two hundred men of the command were on hand at that particular moment. Furloughs had decimated Cluke’s forces and they were glad to get out of the town, but they were gladder still that the Federals did not pursue them. A Federal officer, reporting the occurrence, wrote: “The rebels had a heavy guard out here and made a show of fighting, but when we fired on them they rang the bells in town and all went out in a huddle. The rebels burned their wagons and threw everything away they had stolen.” He also said, “We heard heavy firing yesterday below here in direction of Jeffersonville. Suppose Miner has cut them off, which I ordered him to do.” The cutting off was more imaginative than real.

The sound of the Federal guns had not died away before four hundred of Cluke’s furloughed men hastened to the relief of their retreating companions. The Federal cavalry established itself at Mount Sterling but left Colonel Cluke in command of the surrounding country.

Oftentimes in partisan war, strategy is as important as men. Lieutenant Cunningham was sent to threaten Lexington. Among the scouts was Clark Lyle. Young, vigorous, brave and enterprising, he now undertook a most perilous mission. Cunningham had sent a spy disguised in Federal uniform to the headquarters of the officer commanding at Mount Sterling, and this shrewd messenger was smart enough to put in his pocket some blank printed forms which lay upon the table of the commandant. One of these was filled up as an order purporting to be from the commander at Lexington, Kentucky, directing the commander at Mount Sterling to march instantly to Paris, twenty miles north of Lexington to repel a raid which was impending by the Confederates against the Kentucky Central Railroad, which connected Cincinnati and Lexington.

Lyle, dressed in full Federal uniform, rode into Mount Sterling at the top of his speed, lashing his horse at every step. The animal was reeking with foam. He rushed to the headquarters of the commander, Colonel Runkle, and delivered the orders. The bugles were instantly sounded, and the Federal cavalry brigade moved out to Paris. Hardly had the sound of the jingling sabres ceased along the macadam road which led from Mount Sterling to Paris, before Cluke, with his reorganized force, re-entered the town and captured the garrison and the stores. He found Mount Sterling a most delightful place to remain. It was only twenty miles from Winchester and only a few more from Richmond. The predominating element was Confederate, and Colonel Cluke remained for some eight days, enjoying the hospitality of his people and feasting upon the good things with which the Bluegrass was replete. The Federal commander, concerning this, said: “Found order false on 27th. I received order to pursue Cluke and use him up, which I proceeded to do.” A Federal major, not to be outdone in giving an account of his past, said that he had received orders to find Cluke and that he “moved forward like hell.” Somehow or other these active and ferocious commanders never got where Cluke was. The Federals, however, became dissatisfied with Cluke’s occupation and coming in full force, they drove him across Slate Creek into the Kentucky Mountains. Detachments with Stoner, coming past Middletown and around Mount Sterling, were roughly handled by the Federals, but with small loss they reached the main force, when Cluke, hearing that Humphrey Marshall with three thousand soldiers was advancing into Kentucky, fell back to Hazel Green, Wolfe County, thirty-five miles southeast.

Established for a few days at Hazel Green, an epidemic, a cross between erysipelas and measles, appeared, and half of Cluke’s small command were disabled with this dangerous and treacherous malady. Had the Federals pursued him at this time they would have captured a large portion of his command in bed or camp, and certainly they would have made prisoners of the sick, and if hard pressed would surely have either forced him to return to the mountains or be himself made a captive. Though so many of his men were sick, Cluke sent Colonel Stoner back to Montgomery County, in the vicinity of Mount Sterling. This was done just to let the Federals know that he and his men were around and if necessary would show fight. No better man than Stoner could have been found for such a mission. The Federals, getting increased courage from the Confederate retreat, began to demonstrate themselves and advanced upon Hazel Green. Cluke, not to be outdone, moved further east, thirty miles to Salyersville in Magoffin County, still deeper into the mountains. The season was unpropitious. The fountains of heaven seemed to open. Rains came down in torrents. There were days when horses and men, with cold, chilling rains, were almost incapacitated from service. On the 19th of March, Cluke, through his scouts, discovered that he was apparently entirely surrounded. Fifteen hundred Federals had marched by his front and gained a position in his rear. Eastward, from Louisa, one thousand men were rushing upon him, and westwardly, from Proctor, on the Kentucky River, in Lee County, eight hundred more Federals were moving to crush this bold and defiant Confederate raider. The forces had not fully recovered from the attack of the disease at Hazel Green, and at this time Cluke had not more than five hundred effectives.

It was a bold thought, but with true military instinct, he concluded that the only thing to do was to attack his enemy where he was least expecting it. He was only sixty miles from Mount Sterling. The roads were almost impassable, and these would render the march extremely difficult, trying and laborious. He assumed wisely that the enemy would not suspect that he would reappear at Mount Sterling. Rapidly as possible, marching through slush and rain and across swollen streams, he passed through and around his foes. The combination of rain, cold and the spattering of men and horses by the slush created by the tramp of the column, rendered the conditions surrounding this march almost unbearable. Either of the three elements would have been distressing, but combined they became well-nigh intolerable. The author had many experiences of war’s hardships but, in common with his comrades, he considered this ride from Salyersville to Slate Creek the most arduous and disagreeable of all things that touched the life of Morgan’s men. The ride around Lebanon in January, 1863, on the Christmas raid, brought almost incomparable suffering. Those who endured the cold of that dreadful night believed that they had reached the limit of human endurance. There the awful freezing was the chiefest element of suffering; but the men who rode with Cluke from Salyersville to Slate Creek declared that the hardship was even more terrible for man and mount than the ride around Lebanon.

Before leaving the sick men, Cluke’s men scattered out into the mountains. A majority of the people of Wolfe County sympathized with the South, and it was not difficult to find friendly homes for the convalescent fugitives. The Licking River and all its tributaries were full and in many places over the banks, but the horses could swim and the men could go over in canoes and flatboats, and in a real emergency they could and did swim with their mounts. Colonel Cluke made a fierce and hard drive at Mount Sterling. On the morning of the 21st of March he appeared before the town and demanded its surrender. This was firmly declined. Heading one of the columns himself, he charged into the very heart of the city. The Federal garrison was driven back into the Court House. The Federals away from the Court House had posted themselves in residences along the streets, but the torch, the axe and the sledge hammer soon made a passway up to a hotel which was occupied by a number of Federals with the lower story used as a hospital. Here a flag of truce was run up. Cunningham and Lieutenant McCormack and six men advanced under the flag. Upon reaching the building, they were jeeringly informed that it was the sick who had surrendered and not the well soldiers, and these threatened to fire upon Cunningham and his comrades from the upper rooms, if they undertook to escape from the building. The outlook was extremely gloomy. Lieutenant Saunders suggested that each Confederate take a sick Federal soldier and hold him up in front while they escaped from the position into which their courage—and some might say rashness—had brought them. Putting this plan into immediate execution the retreat was begun. It was impossible for the Federals to fire without killing their sick comrades, but Cunningham and his friends were inconsiderate enough to set fire to the hospital before they so unceremoniously left, and in a little while, through charging and fighting, the men who had refused to surrender and had threatened to fire on Cunningham, found themselves in a most unfortunate predicament. The lower story was beginning to blaze. The sick were carried out, but the well men who had declined to respect Cunningham’s flag of truce, must either burn up, jump out of the windows, or be shot down. No men ever more gladly surrendered, and the captive Federals and the Confederates all united in a common effort to save them from their impending doom. The Federal prisoners and the Confederates together worked to quench the flames which had been started under the hospital.

Time was of the very essence of victory. None could tell at what moment the Federals, left behind at Salyersville, might put in an appearance. Garrisons at Lexington, Paris and Winchester would soon hear the news of Cluke’s coming and might ride to the rescue of their friends. Every man caught the spirit of haste. True it was Sunday morning, but war does not respect any day of rest. To have lost, after the brilliant strategy of the dreadful march from Salyersville would leave regrets that no future success could palliate. Every Confederate was terribly in earnest, and no laggards on that otherwise peaceful day of rest were found in Cluke’s following. Captain Virgil Pendleton of Company D, 8th Kentucky, was mortally wounded and died shortly afterwards. No braver soldier or more loyal patriot ever gave his life for the South. Captain Terrill and Lieutenant Maupin of Chenault’s regiment were seriously wounded. Both brave officers, they fell at the front.

The work was short, sharp and decisive. In six hours the agony was past. Two hundred and twenty wagons, five hundred mules and one thousand stand of arms were the reward the captors had for their heroic services. Three killed and ten or fifteen wounded was the penalty paid by Cluke for his victory. The enemy lost a few more, and three hundred and one were paroled.

The forces which had been sent to catch Cluke were not long in finding that their enemy had evaded them and, rapidly leaving the mountains, had gone down into the Bluegrass and won a victory. They promptly followed on, searching for their agile foe.

Cluke’s successful work incited spirited criticism of the conduct of the Federal commanders. Colonel Runkle and General Gilmore appear not to have agreed about the work done in this campaign. Colonel Runkle, with great complacency, reported: “As for my men, they have ridden day after day and night after night, without sleep or rest, and have pursued eagerly and willingly when so exhausted that they fell from their horses.” On this report General Gilmore endorsed: “How his men could have been without sleep and his horses without rest during the two days he halted at Paris, I cannot understand.” Captain Radcliffe, Company E, 10th Kentucky Cavalry, who capitulated at Mount Sterling, was, by the department commander, dishonorably dismissed from the military service, subject to the approval of the President, for his disgraceful surrender of the place.

Later he was honorably acquitted by a Court of Enquiry and cleared of all imputation upon his character as a soldier and restored to his command. Somebody had blundered and a scapegoat must be found.

So far as written reports are concerned, Colonel Cluke made only one return, which is as follows: “Rockville, Rowan County, Kentucky, March 24th, 1863. I reached the above place last evening, just from Mount Sterling. On the morning of the 21st I moved with my command direct to Mount Sterling, where I learned there were between three hundred and four hundred of the enemy guarding a large supply of commissary and quartermaster’s stores, together with the good citizens of the place. After crossing Licking River I found the road in such condition that it was almost impossible to move my artillery. I placed three companies to assist and guard it, with directions to move on without delay to Mount Sterling. I then moved with my command to Mount Sterling, which place I reached about daylight the next morning, where I found the enemy quartered in the Court House and adjoining buildings. I immediately demanded a surrender of the place, which request they refused to comply with. I then gave them twenty minutes to get the women and children from town. That they refused to do also, and fired upon the flag of truce from the Court House and several other buildings immediately around the Court House. My artillery, not coming up in time, I was compelled to fire the town to dislodge the enemy. After several houses had been burned, they surrendered the place; but before surrendering, they kept up a continual firing from the buildings upon my men, who were protected by the fences, stables and outbuildings around the town. I paroled two hundred and eighty-seven privates (14th Kentucky cavalry) and fourteen officers. I paroled them to report to you within thirty days, which I herewith send you. The property destroyed, belonging to the enemy, will reach I think five hundred thousand dollars. I occupied the town about six hours when my scouts reported a large force advancing from Winchester. I immediately moved in the direction of Owingsville. I had not proceeded more than five miles when they made their appearance some two miles in my rear, numbering about twenty-five hundred men, with several pieces of artillery. They would not advance upon me and I quietly advanced on to Owingsville, without pursuit, and from thence on to the above place. When I left West Liberty for Mount Sterling, the enemy, numbering thirteen hundred men with four pieces of artillery, were at Hazel Green, in pursuit of my force. They reported and despatched a courier to Mount Sterling stating that they had me completely surrounded, but I surprised them by making my appearance where not expected. General Marshall is within forty miles of this place, moving on with sixteen hundred cavalry. He lost his artillery the other night. The guard placed over it went to sleep and some Home Guards slipped in on him and carried off the gun, leaving the carriage and caisson.... I send you three prisoners of which you will take charge until you hear from me again.... My command is elegantly mounted and clothed, in fact in better condition than they have ever been. If your command was here, you could clean the State of every Yankee.”

Marching over from Southwestern Virginia, General Humphrey Marshall had driven the forces which had gone to capture Cluke at Salyersville back into Central Kentucky. This left Cluke an open way for the return to Monticello, Wayne County, Kentucky.

After maneuvering with his enemies for some days, he received orders from General Morgan to march southward by way of Irvine, McKee, Manchester and Somerset, to Stigall’s Ferry, where he had crossed the river some weeks before. He had not been away more than seven weeks; he had traveled, all told, eight hundred miles, almost altogether within the line of the enemy. He was always operating with an inferior force, but he was ever ready to fight. The history of war furnished nothing superior to the skill and strategy of Colonel Cluke in this expedition. He was campaigning over two hundred miles from his supports; he had larger, active forces and many strong garrisons about him, and these were threatening and covering at all times the only way by which he could return to his starting place. His daring and skill had braved his enemies at every turn. He played with them as a cat with a mouse. Leading them far into the mountains, he slipped away before they realized that he was gone, and in the darkness of the night, amid storms, and over roads believed to be impassable, he made a tremendous march and pounced down upon an intrenched garrison more than half as great as the force he carried into the fight, and then escaped in the immediate presence of a Federal force five times as large as that which he was commanding. He destroyed more than a million dollars’ worth of property. For weeks he defied and evaded his pursuers and then crossed the Cumberland River at the same point he had passed it, with his command well equipped, and reported to his superior commander the brilliant experiences without a serious mishap or defeat during his long stay amidst his enemies.

POSTSCRIPT

Roy Stuart Cluke was born in Clark County, Kentucky, in 1824. His mother died when he was only three weeks of age and he was reared by the family of his grandfather, James Stuart. This grandfather had served in the Revolutionary War under Washington. Allotted a large tract of land for his revolutionary services, he settled in Clark County and had for his homestead a thousand acre farm near the junction of Clark, Bourbon and Montgomery Counties, by the side of a great spring, known as “Stuart Spring.” In the early days of Kentucky, water was even more valuable than rich land.

James Stuart had four sons, and all were soldiers from Kentucky in the War of 1812.

After such education as the local schools of his period could give, he was sent to a military school at Bardstown, Kentucky. Shortly after attaining his majority he volunteered for service in the Mexican war, and went with a company of Kentucky cavalry commanded by John Stuart Williams, his cousin, afterwards brigadier general in the Confederate army and United States Senator from Kentucky. The company made a most enviable record in Mexico. Briefly before the commencement of the Civil War, he organized and trained a company of cavalry which was attached to the State Guard. This company was noted for its thorough drill, its magnificent mounts, its splendid equipment and its dashing riders. When General Bragg invaded the State in 1862 he organized a regiment of cavalry composed largely of men from the Bluegrass counties. More than eight hundred men enlisted in this regiment, which was called the 8th Kentucky. When only a portion of his regiment had been enlisted, he was sent to harass General George W. Morgan, the Federal officer who was making his masterly retreat from Cumberland Gap, through the mountains of Kentucky. The 8th Kentucky subsequently became a part of General John H. Morgan’s command. His regiment was actively engaged in service from August, 1862, until his capture, July 26th, 1863. He was at Hartsville on December 6th, 1862, on the Christmas raid, and led an independent expedition into Kentucky in February and March, 1863. He was captured on the 26th of July, 1863, with General Morgan, at Salineville, Columbiana County, Ohio, and was conveyed to the Ohio penitentiary with the other officers of the command, and kept there for some months and subsequently removed to Johnson’s Island, Sandusky, Ohio. He loved the excitement and din of war. He chafed under his confinement in the penitentiary and at Johnson’s Island. It was reported that he had been poisoned in prison. This, however, was denied and later was discredited. He died under distressing circumstances in December, 1863. There was an epidemic of diphtheria among the Confederate officers at Johnson’s Island about the time of Colonel Cluke’s death. A man of marvelously prepossessing physique, he enjoyed the friendship of the officers of the prison. He had been allowed to visit the office and read the newspapers. While thus employed one morning, with his strong, silvery voice, with military calmness, he said, “Gentlemen, I will be dead in a few minutes. I have only one request to make of you as soldiers and gentlemen. Leave my arms folded across my bosom like a warrior and tell them to place my Mexican War sabre by my side. Telegraph my cousin and foster brother, Samuel G. Stuart, of Winchester, Kentucky; request him to come for my body and bury me next to my mother in the old Stuart graveyard at home.” He folded his arms, the paper fell from his now nerveless grasp, his head drooped on his breast. Even his enemies were impressed at his calmness and courage in the presence of the great enemy. They rushed to his side. The prison physician felt his pulse and lifting his head from his chest, where he was listening for the heart beats, he turned his face to those aside and said, “He is dead.” The drama was ended and in pathetic gloom the curtain fell on the brilliant and gallant soldier.

Six feet, four inches tall, splendidly proportioned, with a magnificent suit of brown hair and whiskers, graceful as any man who ever rode to war, as brave as the bravest, calm, cool, fierce in danger, his presence was always an inspiration to his followers. He was idolized by his men. He had won the confidence and admiration of General Morgan and all who were associated with him in the division. Had he escaped on the Ohio raid, he would have been made a brigadier general. There was universal sorrow that so splendid a life should go out with such darkened surroundings. His remains were brought to his native State and deposited first where he asked, in the old Stuart graveyard, and then later removed to the Lexington cemetery. In this wondrously beautiful “City of the Dead” he rests close to his great leader, Morgan, within a stone’s throw of the grave of General John C. Breckinridge, just across the way a little bit from General Roger W. Hanson and Colonel W. C. P. Breckinridge, and under the shadow of Kentucky’s memorial to Henry Clay.

Those who loved and followed him have built a simple granite monument on which is inscribed:

“Roy Stuart Cluke. 1824-1863.
Colonel of the 8th Kentucky Cavalry, C.S.A.
Erected by his Comrades.”