Preface

This Journal of incidents and adventures, written at your request, was never intended to pass beyond the circle of tried and particular friends. The particular situation in which it was written, the character of the writer, of his associates, and the Cause they represented—all these peculiarities must be known, felt, and understood before you can enter into the spirit of the enclosed composition.

With this consideration, these simple sketches are kindly submitted, and placed under your protection, sincerely hoping they will be appreciated and estimated according to their merits. And furthermore, that the honor of the Cause, as well as of its defenders, be kept sacred, and to the end of time unsullied.

I received, some time since, a request that I would write you an outline of my experience in “the tented field” up to the date of my capture. It will necessarily be very imperfect, and a very brief one, and perhaps it will be as uninteresting as it is brief. Yet I can assure you that nothing less than a long and continued interview could give you any just conception or description of my experience and many exploits as a member of Morgan’s Cavalry.

However, I trust this sketch may both please and interest you. To me, in the mean time, it will only be a reminder of the long years of hardship, exposure, and suffering in a Lost Cause which was so gallantly and devotedly battled for that one would almost accuse the God of Battles of injustice and impartiality; of using the Fates against a people in such a sacred cause. That I have been a soldier in the service of the Confederate States is not, and never will be, regretted. I am proud that I was one who did not hesitate to join the standard of those in defense of their country’s rights. Had I not done so I would now be chiding myself with no little severity. Shame alone would cause me to blush myself out of existence.

But pardon my digression. I will commence my sketch.

You are already aware, perhaps, that I enlisted in the cavalry service of the Confederate States of America at Glasgow, Kentucky, in October, 1861, and in a company that was then being formed by Second Lieutenant James W. Bowles, who had been duly authorized by the Confederate Government to recruit a company of cavalry.

At Glasgow forty men were enlisted, and after some experience in drilling and a few exciting engagements, such as scouting and skirmishing, in which we were sometimes supported by Capt. John H. Morgan and his company,—a favor we often returned,—we were ordered by General Buckner to Bowling Green, Kentucky. On reporting to the General we were instructed by him to report to Captain Morgan, commanding Camp Burnham, one mile south of Bowling Green, where we went into camp.

Here we found the Lexington Rifles, Captain Morgan’s old company; Captain Allen’s and Capt. John S. Churchill’s company, partly completed, with which our company was, by order of the commandant, soon afterward consolidated. The two captains, by the toss of a copper, decided who should become the commander, and Lieutenant Bowles, our then acting captain, being the successful one, Captain Churchill justly fell heir to the second in command, the first lieutenancy. Our first lieutenant became the second lieutenant of the new company, and the other first lieutenant became our third, the very responsible position of orderly sergeant falling to your most humble servant, and so on down the list.

At that time Captain Morgan had in camp three full companies, amounting to about two hundred and seventy-five men, all splendidly mounted on Kentucky’s best: Morgan’s own Company A, Capt. Thomas Allen’s Company B, and Capt. Bowle’s Company C, forming “Morgan’s Squadron,” as it was afterward known, and being under the command of Capt. John H. Morgan, with First Lieutenant Basil W. Duke, of Company A, as acting adjutant, subject to the command of General Buckner alone.

After remaining in camp near Bowling Green for some time, drilling and making other preparations necessary to meet the foe successfully, we moved to an encampment called “Camp Allen,” five miles south of Bowling Green, between the L. and N. and the Memphis Branch railroads, where we drilled constantly until the latter part of November, when we were ordered to the front to form a portion of the advance-guard, then near Green River, under the command of General Hindman. Here we remained on active duty until the withdrawal of our forces from Bowling Green, which withdrawal was caused by the enemy’s flank movement and the fall of Fort Donelson, about the first of February, 1862. On the retreat the squadron was the rear-guard of our army, that being the second time we had had charge of the post of honor.

Leaving Camp Green on the 12th,—my last sight of home until the 27th of June, 1865,—we passed through Bowling Green and encamped four miles south of town. On the 13th our column reached Franklin, Kentucky, and the evening of the 14th we were encamped one mile south of Mitchellville, Tennessee. Here General Breckinridge, who was now in command, General Buckner having gone to Fort Donelson, learned that the enemy’s advance had reached Bowling Green. I shall not soon forget the night we camped near Mitchellville, for we shared the fate of the reindeer in having our beds on the snow.

On the 15th we reached Goodletsville, and on the 16th we marched into Nashville. We remained on special duty in that city several days, and until the main army had reached Huntsville, Alabama. On the arrival of the enemy’s forces our little band steadily and quite sullenly gave way before them until we reached Lavergne, about midway between Nashville and Murfreesboro, meanwhile inflicting sudden and unexpected blows, causing the enemy so much loss as to make him advance slowly and with the utmost caution.

It was on this retreat that our commander and the squadron, by their many daring deeds, brought themselves first into notice and gained such notoriety as to make them afterward of no little terror to the enemy. And from this time forward, until July 19, 1863, the date of our capture in Ohio, they earned and gained more laurels, captured more stores and provisions, and had less reverses than any other command in either service. Never was a commander so much admired, so devotedly loved, or one in whom his soldiers placed so much confidence as a leader, as was our dashing and gallant chief. Any of us—all of us—would gladly have died in his defense, and each one would have envied the man who lost his life defending him. So much was he trusted that his men never dreamed of failing him in anything that he attempted. In all engagements he was our guiding star and hero.

Doubtless you learned at the time they were enacted of the many daring and spirited engagements and scouts while we were encamped at Lavergne and Murfreesboro, the enemy near us, at the Asylum and Nashville. I presume you heard particularly of the General’s personal adventures, sometimes alone, sometimes with a chosen few. It is exciting and interesting to read such incidents, but to be an actor in them is the only way to realize “the heart’s exultant swell.” That can only be felt; it cannot be described even by those who have been through it.

During our stay in Murfreesboro a portion of the squadron went with the General, then Captain, to Gallatin, very much to the surprise of the enemy who were garrisoning the town. On this occasion Columbus A. Peddicord, having just come from Virginia, acted as guide. His regiment had been disbanded with orders to reorganize on the first of April, 1862.

It was here that I contracted the illness which afterward resulted in typhoid pneumonia, it being brought on by constant exposure to the long cold rains during the first two weeks of March while we were scouting in the vicinity of the capital. We lived in the saddle the most of the time, and our clothing was continually wet.

Captain Morgan and sixty horse were stationed in Murfreesboro, and they held the town; the rest of the squadron, meantime, encamped on the pike running from Shelbyville, a pike intersecting the Franklin and Nashville pike twelve miles from Nashville. This disposition of our small force nonplussed the enemy entirely and successfully. They could not solve the mystery, or imagine what our number was, or where or who we were.

Our leader, by his rapid blows and daredevil encounters, caused them to believe his entire force was with him at Murfreesboro, while Captain Allen, Captain Bowles, and Adjutant Duke drew their attention in the opposite direction, attacking them at all hours of the day and night. We would capture an outpost, very often galloping in the midst of their camp, thus causing the greatest surprise and consternation imaginable. After presenting the compliments of “Morgan’s Men,” in the shape of a few broadsides from our rifles, a sort of salute of respect and esteem, we would doff our caps à la Morgan, and, without difficulty, make our exit at a brisk canter. Their curiosity was not sufficient to make them pursue us for an introduction, and they did not insist upon an explanation for such intrusion.

When orders were received to fall back, the squadron, after a short separation, was again united at Shelbyville. At Shelbyville I was compelled, for the first time, to leave the ranks on account of illness. My comrades urging me to do so, I went to a private house, to remain there until the squadron should move to Huntsville, as previously instructed. One of the boys escorted me to the residence of a Mr. Desmukes, south of town a few miles, where I was treated “southernly,” and with great kindness by all the family, and especially by the two young lady daughters.

On the departure of the troops, some time afterward, a detachment was sent for me. I had become so weak that when I rose to walk I staggered, and would have fallen had not the arms of the young ladies intercepted and rescued me. They then assisted the invalid to the gate, and also assisted me to mount my “war steed,” Selim, who was to carry me a short distance, to the pike, where an ambulance was in waiting to take me to Fayettesville. Escorted by a small guard of troopers from our own company, and accompanied by C. A. P., who arrived just in time to superintend my transfer, we proceeded to Fayettesville.

From the time I was laid in the ambulance until my arrival in the Huntsville hotel I was entirely unconscious, and ignorant of all that passed, like one dreaming his last long dream. I have been told by C. A. P. that I remained in Fayettesville several days, and was cared for tenderly by the ladies, and especially by the landlady of the principal hotel, where I stopped. I can’t remember. Nor have I the remotest idea what occurred during my stay; neither have I the least knowledge of being carried to the depot in a carriage, thence to Huntsville by rail, where, on my arrival, I was conveyed to the hotel. I was carried in by some of the boys, and on ascending the stairway they allowed one of my feet to fall against the steps, which awoke me from my insensibility. But I soon again relapsed into unconsciousness, and this time it lasted for nearly two months.

During the two weeks that the squadron stayed I was nightly visited by some of the boys, but I was not made aware of it until a long time afterward. However strange it may appear, my best and dearest friends were not recognized. I have only a very slight recollection of the advent of the Yankees under Mitchell, on the 11th day of April, 1862. The grand entree was made about 11 or 12 o’clock at night, and caused no little excitement among the inhabitants, as well as among our men.

Just before Captain Morgan left Huntsville for Shiloh, he called to see me. After standing some time by my bedside, and looking intently at me, he remarked, “Sergeant, you will soon be well enough to be with us again.” Then he shook my hand very affectionately, and, bidding me farewell, went into the entry, where he said to the landlady, Mrs. Georgia Nowell, that I would not live through the coming night, in which opinion Mrs. Nowell acquiesced, as she told me afterward. And indeed, she said for as much as two weeks no one expected that I would recover, not even the kind doctor attending me.

But, after all, my time had not arrived. By the 22nd of May I was able to sit up in bed, propped up by five or six pillows. It was on that day, and while in that position, that Rube, a true and faithful black boy whom C. A. P. had left to take care of me, rushed into my room, adjoining Mrs. Nowell’s, saying that the Yankees were searching the hotel.

Though I was still very feeble, I knew well what to do and say. I requested Rube to leave the door, as it then was, a little open, and to go about just as if he were one of the hotel waiters. Having escaped detection so often before, and being in one of the rooms known as “the family suite,” I thought it probable that I might escape again. But I am now pretty sure that some one had reported me to the military, because two Yankee officers came direct to my room, walked in without knocking, and seated themselves near my bedside. Very soon they introduced, as cause for their presence and intrusion, several inquiries, such as, “How long have you been ill, sir?” or “What command do you belong to?” and “When do you think you will be able to report to the provost marshal?”

I answered their questions by saying that I did not know when I would be able to report, and they said, “But when do you think?” I said, “You see my condition. When do you think?” But neither of them could tell me.

These remarks and similar ones that passed made me quite angry, and I said just what I thought and pleased. Besides, I did not like the style of their entrance. Each had a pair of navy pistols, and each had his sabre drawn, as if he expected to see the Devil, instead of a sick Rebel. Then, leaving me for a moment, they returned with a parole, which instructed me to report, when I was well enough, to the provost marshal, and this I signed with a feeble hand. One of these officers was a captain of the Third O. V. I. from Belmont County, the other was Sam Piper, of Barnesville, his second lieutenant.

As soon as the Yankees were gone, Mrs. Nowell made her appearance, weeping and lamenting. Both she and Rube were very much displeased with the new programme. When the first of June came I was sufficiently strong to venture to the provost marshal’s office to show myself to Lieutenant Colonel Burke of the Tenth Ohio Volunteer Infantry, the provost marshal. My skeleton-like appearance gained his sympathy, and all he requested was for me to report myself daily at 9 o’clock A. M. This I did until the 5th of August.

Then, on the 5th of August, I was started out, under a heavy guard, and with three other officers of our army, for some Northern bastile.

All this time Mrs. Nowell was like a kind mother to me, and Rube was attentive and obedient at all times. I placed him under Mrs. Nowell’s care when I left. The inhabitants—for there was only one Union man, Judge Lane, in the city—treated me with the greatest kindness and attention, offering me everything that one could wish for. I was the only Confederate prisoner on parole then, all the others having been sent North, and during my evening walks crowds of beautiful girls and young ladies would accompany me, much to the displeasure of the Yankees. And I would return from my walks always ladened with the richest, rarest flowers that ever grew in any clime.

This was, indeed, a reward that made a soldier’s heart swell with pride. How it gladdens the heart to receive such marked attentions from the hands of the beautiful and fair! Long and happily may the fair ones of Huntsville live!

On my route to Louisville, Kentucky, I passed over the Tennessee and Alabama Railroad to Nashville, thence over the Louisville and Nashville, and in sight of home. Yet not a muscle betrayed itself, nor was there a sigh to show that the “Rebel” had any desire to see loved ones. However, he felt it deeply; but a proud spirit, still unconquered, scorned the idea that his guard be permitted the gratification of knowing that he suffered.

On arriving in Louisville I was exhibited to a staring populace as one of “Morgan’s men,” and this knowledge caused them to show me a rope with a hangman’s knot in it. This, they said, was for my special benefit. If I had enlisted in this war to be frightened by scare-crows I might have been frightened, but as I did not, the amusement was entirely at their expense. But do not think that all the people in the city were of this mind. Assuredly not. I saw many bright eyes beaming, many fair faces smiling on the old gray, and I saw many snowy handkerchiefs slyly flirted at the risk of prison walls, and—in spite of them!

I was now entered, not “professionally,” however, in that horrid prison, the Old Medical College, and was confined there about one week. I was then transferred, with, perhaps, one hundred other prisoners of war (one of them Dr. Hobson, afterward our brigade chaplain), to Camp Chase, Ohio, by way of Indianapolis, when one-half of our party was sent to Camp Norton, Dr. Hobson included. We remained in Camp Chase nearly two weeks, where I wrote you, if you remember; then, on the 26th of August we started for exchange, by way of Cincinnati to Cairo. At Cairo the prisoners embarked on a fleet of eight or ten transports that was to carry them down the Mississippi River. We were escorted by two ironsides and a heavy guard, all of which was quite unnecessary, for we were most anxious to get to Dixie, and for her “to live and die.”

Before reaching that place of “world-wide fame,” Vicksburg, many of the boys died, and a large number, myself among them, became sick, an illness caused by the crowded boat, the inferior rations, and drinking the river water. When we reached Vicksburg we received a hearty reception from our troops and from the inhabitants. It was even then a place of interest, for before the war it possessed much that was attractive; but since it has become notorious for its heroic defense, before which Grant’s heroic columns melted like snow, it is singularly interesting. Well, transportation to Jackson, Mississippi, was immediately furnished us, and when we arrived there we were ordered by General Lloyd Tilghman, commander of the post, into a camp of instruction until further orders.

I met here my old friend of civil engineer notoriety, John W. Hayden, belonging now to the Confederate Engineering Corps, with the rank of colonel. He and the General urged and insisted that I should receive, or rather accept an appointment in the same corps. Colonel Hayden said that he was very much surprised to find me in the cavalry service, and more surprised that I had been following the daring and dashing horseman, John Morgan, when men of my profession were needed to engage in the very fascinating work of the Engineer Corps of the Confederates States. They both pressed me to accept a position; but I loved my old Commander too well, and the service in which he had enlisted too much, to think of leaving him. So I could but decline respectfully; which I did. And yet I believe I have since almost regretted that I then rejected a post of such advantage, for of advantage it certainly would have been in the days to come.

After a short stay in Jackson, and on the arrival of General Breckinridge’s forces from Baton Rouge, in which we were glad to find the old Kentucky Infantry Brigade, we started under General Breckinridge for Knoxville, Tennessee, by way of Mobile, Atlanta and Chattanooga. We reached Knoxville about the first of October. We were then mounted, and, under the immediate command of Lieut. Col. Bob Wood, of Mississippi, we started for Kentucky to join General Bragg.

After two days’ march toward Cumberland Gap we met Bragg’s advance, under General Kirby Smith, which caused a retrograde movement of the forces under General Breckinridge. On our return to Knoxville, where I met C. A. P., Col. St. Leger Grenville, Morgan’s Adjutant-General, and Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman of the Third Kentucky Cavalry, now took command of our detachment, by order of General Morgan, and we began our march across the Cumberland Mountains to join our command, now a brigade, at Black’s Shop. This position was eight miles in advance of Murfreesboro, on the pike leading from that place to Lebanon, and on the extreme right of our main army, under General Bragg, who had taken position there, while the enemy, then under Rosecrans, were stationed at Nashville.

We reached the command and reported to the General about the last of October, after a very interesting march over a country possessing romantic and picturesque scenery. All hearts were gladdened by the warm and hearty reception we received from the boys. The General, accompanied by his orderlies, came to our camp to see us just as soon as he heard of our arrival. Never did a mother receive her foundlings more fondly than did our glorious commander. Long shall we remember that meeting!

Knowing the fondness of the old squadron boys for each other, and for himself, General Morgan now proposed that they should be consolidated and organized into one select company, to act as scouts, subject to his personal command and direction. A few days after, accordingly, an order appeared to that effect.

All were highly pleased with this arrangement, and, as proof of it, scarce one day elapsed before all had rallied at the scouts’ encampment. The feasting was enjoyed for several days, and I imagine that the neighboring barn-yards suffered a good deal. Of the A, B, and C boys, some had been promoted, and others were promoted immediately upon our arrival. Yet the majority of those whom the General wanted to advance respectfully declined to accept appointments in “strange” companies, so much were they attached to each other. Our term of enlistment had expired, but no one mentioned it to the General, nor thought of quitting so long as the object for which they enlisted had not been attained. Neither did they re-enlist, but served faithfully to the bitter end.

With the exception of those promoted, there were only eighty of the original members to be found after twelve months’ service, and there had been nearly three hundred at first. War, death, and sickness had thinned their numbers, so that now there were, upon terra firma, to answer to roll call, scarcely one-third their original number. The others—the most of them—had answered their last roll call, “the soldier’s last tattoo.” It was oftentimes painful and sad to lose such brave and dear companions, yet when I think of our misfortunes, as I often do, I almost wish that I, too, were one of “the departed heroes.”

At the time of the formation of our company, called “Morgan’s Scouts,” we were poorly mounted, our war steeds being old veterans that had seen hard service, and, because of their indisposition, had been turned over to the quartermaster’s department at Knoxville, from whom we drew them. The members of the Scouts, as they knew General Morgan personally and were quite frank with him, complained at every interview of their sorry horses. The General’s reply always was, “You’ll have better ones in a short time.” How he got those “better ones” will be related hereafter.

Meanwhile, the scouts began their exploits—exploits so much talked of by the command, and so eagerly anticipated. Oftentimes, accompanied by the General, on such occasions impersonating the character of a scout, and to all appearances one of the company, we would dash out on exciting and successful adventures, expeditions carried on in the vicinity of Gallatin and Nashville, and also in the neighborhood of Lebanon and Hartsville, where a brigade of Yankee infantry and a regiment of cavalry were discovered quietly encamped on the north bank of the Cumberland, and near the latter place. The cavalry was commanded by Colonel Moore, and was supported by another brigade of the enemy, six miles distant in the direction of Gallatin.

As soon as this discovery was made, the General put his wits to work to “take them in out of the weather.” It was about the first of December, 1862, and on the morning of the 6th of December orders were received to report to General Morgan’s headquarters immediately, an order we as soon carried into effect.

Having received from the General our special instructions, we moved off in the direction of Hartsville, to be followed, almost immediately, by our brigade of cavalry, and also by the Old Kentucky Infantry Brigade, commanded by General Roger B. Hanson, whose duty it was to hold possession of Lebanon during our attack. The position of the places closely resembled a Y: Nashville at the top and left, Hartsville at the right top, Lebanon at the junction, and Murfreesboro at the bottom. So you will easily see that Nashville, not forgetting Gallatin, is as near to Lebanon as it is to Hartsville, and it would be quite easy for the enemy to intercept our line of retreat. This General Hanson was to guard against.

When the scouts passed through Lebanon, late in the evening, they were met by many ladies, who, woman-like, had anticipated our movements, and urged and implored us to capture the Yankees at Hartsville. And they added, “Be sure to bring them through town so we can see them!” When you learn that most of the boys had sweethearts there, for it is a glorious old place in the estimation of most of our command, you will not wonder that they promised a prisoner on their return.

As we left the town behind us the darkness fell, and our brigade, like a messenger of death, crept silently, cautiously along, in spite of the intense cold. Near midnight we approached the Cumberland. Our forces had been divided into several detachments, preparatory to fording the river, the scouts leading the advance of the center detachment, at whose head rode General Morgan, and closely in the rear came the big guns, excepting the two pieces called the “Bull Pups,” that had so long accompanied the command on its raids and marches.

These “Bull Pups” had been left in charge of an officer commanding a battalion of cavalry, with instructions to make a feint on the enemy from the south bank of the river. He was to take the direct road to Hartsville, and the one leading to the good ford, which happened to be just opposite to the Yankees and within rifle range. The officer in charge of the battalion was to get silently into position, without the knowledge of the enemy, and when the first gray streaks of morning made their appearance he was to attract the enemy’s attention by opening a spirited cannonading from the now celebrated “Bull Pups.” “The first gray streaks” was the signal, too, for the brigade to move into position on the north bank of the river.

When the advance reached the river we found a couple of ferry-boats which our friends had secreted for us. All the other detachments crossed by fording, and they had, I afterward learned, a wretched cold bath. Along with seven scouts I was the first to land. Just before shoving off from the shore I received my instructions from the General in person. He desired me to be both cautious and vigilant, so as not to alarm the enemy, and we were to approach his encampment silently, and to watch his actions until the General’s arrival with the main force.

Crossing quietly and safely, it was not long until we found the Yankee outpost, a cavalry picket consisting of an officer and fifteen men, posted not more than a quarter of a mile from their camp. The picket was in an old carriage-house. One of the doors was standing open and there was a fire near the entrance of the house, and between us and the door. We were already within short range, and we could see the Yankees distinctly as they stepped out to look up the road. It was so very cold, so intensely cold, that they did not dream Morgan would come after them on such a night. Had they not felt so confident surely they would not have dismounted while on picket duty.

But there we sat, silent as the tomb, watching our prey, without even the privilege of shaking our feet in the stirrups to keep them from freezing. I never came so near freezing in my life. The rest of the scouts and the detachment with the General arrived just before day.

When the General saw the pickets, which we pointed out to him, he said, turning to the captain of the scouts, “Tom, do you see those pickets?” The Captain answered promptly, “I do, distinctly.” Then the General said, “Lead your scouts down there, and take them in, and if it can be avoided do not fire a gun.”

A moment after the boys were on all sides of the picket, advancing from all sides, and in less time than I can tell you, the Yankees were captured, disarmed, placed under arrest, and sent to the rear. It was done without a word, without a shot to make our presence known to the enemy. The General said before this was done that it would be all he would require of us. However, we escorted him to the camp, which was in sight, and as we galloped into line one of the sentries, on camp duty, more watchful than the outpost, fired his gun into the air, and almost immediately a reply from the “Bull Pups” came across the river. This had a pleasing effect in our favor, for, imagining the attack was from that direction, the Yankee battery very soon opened upon them in dead earnest. Meanwhile, each of our regiments had gained its position, and the line of battle was formed, though the Yankees were running in every direction, so complete was their surprise.

Believing, from our actions, we were about to charge them mounted, the Yankees commenced forming three distinct hollow squares; and then again, seeing our men dismount to fight, they formed into line parallel with ours. By this time the battery we had with us was placed in position in our line, and between the Seventh and Eighth Kentucky Cavalry. With the General at the head of the scouts, and supporting the battery, two of our pieces now opened fire on the Yankee battery, which was still duelling with the “Bull Pups.” This discharge caused the Yankees to see and realize their real position. They were surrounded completely. When our big guns began firing they commanded a little more respect and attention than the “Pups.” The Yankees quickly reversed their guns, and the second shot hit one of our caissons, and there was an explosion. The General, the artillery and the scouts were enveloped in such a dense cloud of smoke and shells that every one, like myself, thought that he was the only living one—the only one who had escaped instant death. But on the disappearance of the smoke our surprise was great to find that no one was hurt except the drivers and the horses attached to the caisson. The escape of General Morgan seemed miraculous indeed.

Colonel Duke had led our line of battle into action, and now the entire line entered the conflict. Rebel and Yankee were at it, hot and heavy, still the General would not permit the scouts to advance, but held us under fire of the artillery, in reserve, as he said. But before long our time came.

When it came the two lines were frightfully near each other. The Yankee cavalry regiment was on the rise before us when the General, calling the attention of the scouts, said, “Boys, yonder are those horses I’ve been promising you.” And he added, “Be very particular how you take them, for you observe that each horse has an armed man upon him.” Then, giving Captain Tom some instructions, he ordered us to advance, which we did at a brisk canter. Already the Yankee lines, in many places broken, were reeling and staggering like drunken men. We entered the lists just in time to fire the ending broadside and receive an unconditional surrender. We likewise received the horses the General had presented, besides a great variety of “other things” that abound in Yankee camps. The engagement had lasted only an hour and ten minutes.

The forces surrendered by Colonel Moore were the One Hundred and Fourth Illinois Volunteer Infantry, One Hundred and Sixth and One Hundred and Eighth Ohio Infantry, and the Second Indiana Cavalry, making a total of two thousand three hundred prisoners. Sixty or seventy of the enemy were killed, and twice that number wounded. Our loss was nearly fifty killed and seventy or eighty wounded. Our captured horses were put in charge of some of the scouts, and the rest of us were ordered to watch the movements of the Yankee brigade that was in supporting distance of the one just captured. Though this brigade had heard our cannonading, we had struck so quickly and rapidly that they could not, at least did not, come up in time.

After marching over a mile we met the enemy’s advance-guard, and the main force was marching in line of battle a short distance in the rear of his advance. We drove the advance back in confusion upon the main column. Then a portion of our company held the ground, while the others withdrew to the rear and went into ambush, there to wait the moment to strike.

On this occasion, when hard pressed by the main line, we suddenly gave way, as if we were demoralized, and this enticed the advance out to pursue us. Then the boys in ambush opened fire on them so unexpectedly that they retired in confusion. While this was being enacted the scouts who first fell back selected another place of ambuscade. In this way, after receiving the Yankees warmly once or twice, they learned caution, and advanced slowly, being obliged to reform their lines often, which detained them so much the longer.

When we arrived at the ford we found the prisoners, the horses and the artillery, as well as the captured stores, all safe on the other side of the river. The brigade with which we had been skirmishing took the same position as the one captured had taken, and shelled the ford while we were crossing. But they showed no inclination to come over themselves. Had they done so we certainly would have had the pleasure of escorting another Yankee brigade, under guard, to headquarters; for we found when we gained the south bank that our forces had been arranged to give them a warm reception.

By this victory the scouts had the good fortune to secure fine horses, pistols, blankets, oil and rubber coats, and blankets, and many small necessaries such as Uncle Sam’s shoulder-straps carry. And, added to these things, there was a variety of sutler’s stores.

We got back to our encampment about midnight, cold, hungry, sleepy, and very much fatigued. The next morning we were ordered to headquarters to guard and protect the captured spoils. The prisoners, after being relieved of the overcoats and surplus baggage, were turned over to General Bragg to be disposed of. It was currently reported afterward that Morgan drew them all up in line and gave this command, “One Hundred and Fourth Illinois, came out of them overcoats!” and then followed a similar command concerning pocketbooks, and knives, and so on, to each regiment. It is true the overcoats were retained, but nothing else was. The overcoats were dyed black and worn by our men afterward.

It was at this time that President Davis and Gen. Joseph E. Johnston arrived in Murfreesboro, and were present to witness General Morgan’s marriage ceremony, which took place very soon after. Until his marriage our leader was but a colonel, commanding a brigade, and he received his lady—Miss Mattie Ready, of Murfreesboro—and his promotion at the same time, and received them both from the hands of the “wise and good, gentlemanly and Christian” President, who gave the bride away to “Gen. John H. Morgan,” upon whom he bestowed many compliments for efficient and gallant service, as well as upon the command.

The Yankees, though they had fought desperately for an hour and ten minutes, were sadly abused by the populace on their arrival in Nashville after their exchange. Nightgowns, and even night-caps, were offered them, for the people said their conduct was disgraceful. But let us give honor to whom honor is due. They fought as well as any troops could while they were engaged.

Immediately after the Hartsville engagement preparations were commenced for the “Christmas Raid” through Kentucky. The division marched to Alexandria, where the forces soon arrived, and organized into two brigades, the first under the command of Col. Basil W. Duke, of the Second Regiment, and the second under Colonel William C. Breckinridge, of the Ninth Regiment.

This last appointment caused the resignation of Col. G. St. Leger Grenville, General Morgan’s adjutant-general. The adjutant-general opposed the appointment of Colonel Breckinridge for several just reasons. It is true, Breckinridge was not the senior colonel, and the appointment was made over the head of the senior officer. After Colonel Grenville’s resignation had been accepted, General Bragg made him his inspector-general of cavalry. He was afterward captured in Chicago while attempting to effect the release of prisoners from Camp Douglas. For this “crime” he was sentenced to death by a court martial held in Cincinnati, but his sentence was afterward commuted by “our kind President” to hard labor at Dry Tortugas for life. I feel very sorry for the Colonel. He is as brave and gallant as the best.

The command left Alexandria on the morning of the 22nd of December, 1862, with the scouts in advance, a post of honor we retained during the entire trip. I met at this town both Columbus and Carolus, to whom the General had entrusted some special duty. We passed through New Middleton, approaching the Cumberland opposite Carthage, and crossing Kaney Fork in sight of Carthage, and the Cumberland at Hardee’s Ford, about five miles above, a ford named in honor of a general by that name. General Bragg’s army had used the same ford some time before, when en route to Kentucky.

We went into camp on the north side of the river, the scouts doing outpost duty all night, and the next evening we went into camp at Tomkinsonville, Kentucky. The next evening at 9 o’clock the scouts entered Glasgow. At the General’s request we halted a few miles from town to feed, preparatory to a night’s march, when another detachment took the advance, reaching Glasgow a little after dark.

It so happened that a Michigan cavalry regiment was marching through town at the time our party entered, and a collision was the results, then a skirmish, then—a stampede of all parties! Couriers flew to the General, and from each one he received a different account as to the numbers of the enemy; from one he learned that there was a brigade; from another, a division. But by the courier who claimed to be “the most reliable,” he learned that the town was full of troops!

The action of this detachment, on this occasion, did not please the General, neither did it add any laurels to the troops engaged, nor did the scouts regret it as they ought to have done, simply because, when the detachment passed us, they laughed at the boys, and called out that they “had played out.” But they did not know for what purpose they had been halted by the General, else they would not have rejoiced. Yet, when they returned so quickly, and almost hors-de-combat, the scouts could not help reminding them of their boastful remarks.

One of the General’s aides brought us orders to move on Glasgow immediately, so as to ascertain what the difficulty was, and the whereabouts and number of the enemy, and report on the matter. On reaching Glasgow without adventure the company was dismounted to fight near the outskirts of the town, and we marched into the town in battle line, under the supposition that the enemy was still there. I had command, while Captain Quirk went in advance, as a lookout.

Just as we entered the city square several pistol shots, fired in rapid succession, were heard, and we, thinking the “Model Tom” was in danger, advanced to the rescue. But before we could reach him he had captured two Yankee cavalrymen, belonging to the force that had passed through the town, and known as “stragglers.” Finding “all quiet along the Potomac” a courier was dispatched to the General. We had received orders some time before to advance by the upper pike and strike the Yankee line of communication, the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, north of Green River bridge. The others were to proceed on the same line south of the bridge, and north of the Cave City. I was a member of the latter party.

Leaving the sleeping inhabitants of Glasgow guarded by Morpheus and Morgan, we marched silently through the city. The brigades arrived a little later, and we went into camp for the rest of the night.

This was “the night before Christmas,” and during our march that night “Tom” and I stopped at several parties long enough to enjoy a dance with some of the girls, very much to their surprise—and gratification, they said. They had not the remotest idea that Morgan was near. But we danced our set, though the whole country was alive with the enemy, and the object for which we had been sent was handsomely accomplished.

Then taking a road leading from the lower pike to the upper, near the Bear Wallow, we reached it before the other party of scouts came up, we having gone two sides of the “angle” and they but one. This delay was caused by the collision which they had, during the night, with the forces marching through Glasgow, as I have already related. Soon after we reached the pike and placed our pickets out, the other portion of scouts came up and related their midnight adventures with the Michigan cavalry. Then our entire force was reformed, and we began our march forward.

Before we had proceeded far a courier from the General, then several miles in our rear, reached us, with orders for us to return with the information we had gained; also orders for the scouts that had intercepted us to go forward at a double-quick, if they had not yet accomplished the object for which they had been sent. As they had not accomplished it, the Captain again detached them and sent them forward.

When about a mile in advance of us they ran into a picket of the Fifth Indiana Cavalry, and one of them was sent back to inform Tom. His response was decisive and to the point. It was a command, “Attention, scouts! Double quick! Forward!” The scouts answered by clapping spurs to their horses, and were off like a shot, flying up the pike at a break-neck pace. Coming up with the rest of the company just after they had captured several pickets, and ordering them to fall in our rear, on we went to the charge, for the enemy was in sight, straight ahead, and in line of battle.

It seemed almost a suicidal act for fifty men to charge a regiment of five hundred men, yet the scouts charged and engaged them right gallantly. But there were, at the time, four companies placed in ambush, two on each side of the pike, and within rifle range. We did not observe this, and forming our line parallel to the line opposing, we commenced firing, hotly and rapidly. The force in ambush then advanced, attacking us in the flank, much to our surprise and discomfiture. As soon as our position was discovered a counter-march was ordered, and we withdrew out of this trap, for it was nothing more. Reforming our line, the command was given, “Right wheel, double-quick! Forward, march!” and on we flew.

Meanwhile, the Yanks had become excited. The line in front had stood fast, while the right and left flank, in trying to surround us, had advanced to the pike, a hundred yards in advance of the line, which had remained stationary. This being their condition at the time we charged them, right into their midst, yelling like Comanches, we routed them, and we stampeded and demoralized the first, or main line, by literally running over them. Turning short left, off of the pike in the direction of Woodsonville, near Green River Bridge, we pursued them, capturing, killing and wounding some fifteen or more, and getting spoils of all kinds. We pursued them about three miles, and returned to the pike in time to meet the General and take the advance.

In this encounter several scouts were wounded, though the wounds were not severe enough to entice them from their saddles. Captain Tom received two shots in the back of his head, but he would not permit the wounds to be dressed by a surgeon, though the General requested it. Upon receiving the praise and smiles of our commander for the gallantry displayed in the skirmish, and turning our prisoners over to the provost marshal, we went rapidly to the advance, and reached Green River at sun-down.

Crossing the river we proceeded up the pike about six miles, then turned off “short left.” It was dark and cloudy, and therefore a disagreeable march over a country road to Hammondsville, a distance of eight miles, where we went into camp until the main body came up. When General Morgan arrived the company was divided into several detachments, and sent in as many directions to hunt the enemy. No trooper could have envied us that pleasure, for it was now midnight, very dark, and raining hard. But knowing that “faint heart ne’er wins,” we struck boldly out to make the necessary discoveries. When daylight returned it found all the scouts at headquarters, making their reports to the satisfaction of the General.

In the morning, as soon as we had fed, we took the advance in the direction of the railroad, near Upton’s. Just as we got in sight of the railroad we saw on our left and front some twenty or thirty Yankee infantrymen acting, apparently, as a railroad guard. At the time we discovered them we were marching in a lane. Putting our horses at the fence, those that did not go over rode it down, and we all passed over the field at a sweeping pace, charging the Yanks, who surrendered without firing a shot, though we gave them a round at short range. A small force, garrisoned at Upton’s Station, was also captured soon afterward.

“Lightning,” our telegraph operator, tapped the wire, and his office opened in a few minutes. Lieut.-Col. Hutchison, of the Second, with a detachment, compelled the surrender of the force in the stockade at Bacon Creek bridge, the first station south of Upton’s, then burnt the bridge. This made the third time our command had destroyed that bridge.

We were ordered to “Nolinn” bridge to find the position of the stockade and the force that garrisoned it. Approaching quite near without their knowledge, we were about to open fire when an officer, with an escort, and bearing a flag of truce from the General, rode past us, to “demand an immediate and unconditional surrender.” The officer in command agreed if we could show him three pieces of artillery. When he rode out to see the three pieces he saw six instead, and he submitted without a word. We proceeded then to burn the bridge and the stockade.

As soon as this had been accomplished we moved on Elizabethtown, found the outpost just at dawn, and went into camp. The General then ordered the scouts from the advance, and instructed them to remain inside of the lines during the night. This he did to insure them some relief, since they had been on the outpost for several days and nights in succession, without sleep or rest.

We fared sumptuously that night on the many delicacies we had captured the day previous from the sutlers’ wagons, things intended for the Christmas holidays. These luxuries fell into unexpected hands, yet they were none the less appreciated by us for being unexpected. Possibly we enjoyed them all the more.

Early the next morning we scouts went to the front, and relieved the troops acting as advance. Within two or three miles we met Federal pickets, and had a skirmish with them, driving them back to within a mile of town. A Yankee captain, under a flag of truce, met us. He carried a message to the General, demanding unconditional and immediate surrender of the forces; further, the message said that we were surrounded by an overwhelming force, and that escape was impossible. We detained the Yankee captain while the message was forwarded to the General by one of the scouts.

When the scout returned he carried, for reply to the Yanks, the same message, except that the General’s signature was attached. For the General, believing that the enemy were trying to gain time, demanded the same thing of them that they had demanded of us—unconditional surrender within fifteen minutes; and if this demand was not acceded to, they were ordered to move the non-combatants out of town. Not receiving a response within the given time we had orders to advance, and we executed them with a will, driving the Yankee outposts back upon their main line with confusion. We then received instructions to make our way around the town and cut off their retreat. This we did, destroying the Louisville and Nashville Railroad for over two miles, and capturing fifteen or twenty infantrymen who were guarding the road. The brigade encamped in and near the town that night.

The next day we moved against the forces guarding the trestle at Muldrough’s Hill, composed of two regiments. The one just captured at Elizabethtown was a very large regiment, about eight hundred strong. As there were two trestle works, both were attacked at the same time, and after a pretty warm fight of an hour’s duration they surrendered unconditionally, after which all their effects, stores of all kinds, stockades and trestles were burned to the ground. The prisoners were paroled before dark.

Regaining the pike we marched to the Rolling Fork River, and all, excepting the scouts, bivouacked on the south side. We crossed the river and went on outpost duty, keeping a vigilant watch all night. Early the next morning all of the command crossed to the north side, save one regiment, the Eighth, which was attacked by a large force of Yankees who had come up during the night.

Colonel Duke, being still on the south side, superintending the crossing of the troops, took command of this regiment, and led them in person against the enemy. Our men charged the Yankees furiously and desperately, hurling them back with great confusion, and almost capturing their battery, which had been throwing shells into the ford and into our camp beyond. One shell alone killed No. Three and the four horses he was holding. The artillery would certainly have been captured had not Colonel Duke fallen, severely wounded by a piece of shell, and been carried off the field unconscious. He was removed by Captain Tom, who, with a detachment, had been sent for him. The Eighth was withdrawn, and crossed without any further interference on the part of the Yankees, who seemed not inclined to renew the engagement.

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!”