The distance between Nashville and Murfreesboro is thirty miles. For sixty days after assuming command of the Federal forces at Nashville, General Rosecrans was making his preparations to advance south. The Confederate Army was at Murfreesboro. The center, under General Leonidas Polk, around the town; the right wing, under General McCown, at Readyville, ten miles east of Murfreesboro; and the left wing at Triune and Eaglesville, under General W. J. Hardee, ten miles west of Murfreesboro. These comprised the entire Confederate Army called the “Army of Tennessee.” It was in front of the Federal forces, styled the “Army of the Cumberland,” and covered the lines around Murfreesboro.

General Rosecrans took with him out of Nashville forty-seven thousand men. He had seventy-five hundred at Nashville, thirty-five hundred at Gallatin and four thousand at Bowling Green, Kentucky, and Clarksville, Tennessee. General Bragg, all counted, had thirty-eight thousand men to resist the Federal advance.

Between Murfreesboro and Nashville there was a macadam road. Along this, Rosecrans advanced, and it took him four days to get close enough to Murfreesboro to justify an attack on the part of the Confederates. The outlook to the Federals was flattering. On the afternoon of the 30th, General Palmer, who was commanding the Union vanguard, telegraphed that he was “in sight of Murfreesboro and the enemy was running.” On the next day, he discovered that this was a great mistake, and when he felt the impact of the Confederates on the 31st, he realized that if “the men in gray were running,” they had suddenly changed their mind and their ways. The four days consumed by Rosecrans in making this twenty miles were full of intense activities. Generals Wheeler and Wharton of the Confederate cavalry were the potent factors in delaying and embarrassing the Federal movements.

No one in the Confederate service knew better than General Wheeler how to obstruct an advancing foe. On the 26th, 27th, 28th and 29th, he harassed and assailed the Federals at every opportunity and made them hesitant and extremely cautious.

At midnight, on the 29th of December, General Wheeler was ordered by General Bragg to ride around the Federal Army. It was only a thirty-five mile dash, but it had much of excitement, danger and difficulty. On the morning of the 30th, Wheeler reported that he had captured a brigade train and fifty prisoners. At Lavergne, a few hours later, he took seven hundred prisoners and destroyed an immense train. This carried with it a loss to the Federals in supplies and munitions of many hundreds of thousands of dollars. Nearby, at Rock Springs, he caught another train. At Nolensville he captured still another and three hundred prisoners, and then without any disturbance from his foes, he proceeded to take his place on the left wing of the Confederate Army. In these brief hours he had swung the circle and deeply impressed on his opponents that they might expect trouble at every step of their way.

At dawn of the day following, General McCown opened the Battle of Murfreesboro. General Wheeler, with his cavalry, joined in the attack on the Federals and aided in driving them two miles. General Wharton, with the other portion of the Southern cavalry, was ordered also to ride to the rear of the enemy. He captured hundreds of prisoners, and as if defying all rules of safety, he turned the head of his column due north, in the direction of Nashville. He destroyed many wagons and made numerous prisoners. A large majority of those he safely delivered within the Confederate lines. The Federals had good guns; Wharton, inferior ones. He immediately provided his two thousand riders with the improved arms which had been taken from the Federals, and then returned to the rear of the enemy, passing entirely around the Federal forces. These successes inspired every man in Bragg’s army with courage and hope. The example of these bold horsemen was contagious, and the infantry were anxious to try their luck with the invading columns.

Not satisfied with these adventures, on the 1st day of January, General Wheeler with his own and Wharton’s cavalry, decided to return to the rear of the Federal Army, where there was such rich reward for his labors. Revisiting Lavergne, he attacked the garrison, burned many wagons and captured a number of infantry and a splendid piece of artillery. Fate was so propitious in all these expeditions and the field for destruction so wide, the same night he again went to Rosecrans’ rear, capturing a large number of wagons and horses and prisoners, and by two o’clock the next morning was on the left flank of the army. At nine o’clock on the night of the 1st, he made his last expedition to the Federal rear, and, as before, found his foes easily demoralized and ready to flee or surrender when vigorously and promptly assailed. On the 4th of January, after these adventurous and successful operations, he emerged from his Federal surroundings to find that General Bragg had fallen back. No cavalry in any great battle of the war played a more distinguished part than Wheeler’s and Wharton’s men at Murfreesboro. Their audacity was only equalled by their success, and it is difficult to comprehend how even the greatest of leaders, with only twenty-nine hundred horsemen, could make such havoc with foes, or move with such ease, celerity and with freedom from disaster, in the rear of an opposing army, when rarely was he at any time more than ten miles from the tents of its commanders. A few hundreds of Federal cavalry properly led and disposed, with such numbers of infantry close by, ought not only to have obstructed Generals Wheeler and Wharton in their marches, but should have forced or driven them discomfited within their own lines. In the battle the Federal losses in killed and wounded was eight thousand, seven hundred and seventy-eight and three thousand six hundred and seventy-three captured, making a total of twelve thousand four hundred and fifty-one. Rosecrans also lost twenty-eight pieces of artillery. Bragg, with thirty-eight thousand men, had a loss of ten thousand, two hundred and sixty-six, of which nine thousand were killed and wounded, and about twelve hundred of them were left in the hospitals at Murfreesboro, which later were taken possession of by the Federal Army.

A third of the forces in this battle were from Tennessee. They fought desperately on their native soil, contesting for their homes and firesides, and they suffered a terrific decimation. Cheatham’s division, composed entirely of Tennesseeans, had thirty-six per cent wounded or killed. Cleburne’s division suffered a like mortality, and Johnson’s and Palmer’s Tennessee brigades sustained a loss of twenty-nine and a half per cent.

In order to prevent reinforcements at Clarksville, Nashville and Bowling Green from coming to the assistance of Rosecrans, General John H. Morgan was directed by General Bragg on the 22d of December, 1862, to make a raid along the Louisville and Nashville railroad into Kentucky, and, as far as possible, destroy it, so as to break the Federal communications.

Alexandria, in Wilson County, Tennessee, was forty miles east of Nashville. The Federals did not spread out very far from Nashville in this direction, and there was a neutral zone in and around Lebanon, the county seat of Wilson County, to which the Federals and Confederates each now and then came. It was necessary to protect this line in order to prevent danger to Knoxville. It was still in the nominal possession of the Confederacy. South and west of Nashville, Wheeler, Wharton and Forrest were campaigning. Forrest’s December raid into West Tennessee had not only demonstrated that he was one of the most ferocious fighters in the Confederate service, but also the tremendous power of cavalry when skillfully handled. He had largely recruited his skeleton regiments, and when he came out, although he had seen hard service, he numbered several hundred more men than when he was ordered, against his judgment, by General Bragg to make the raid, in the face of most inclement weather and with an ill-equipped force. His personal pride had been subordinated to his patriotism, and he was ready to give and do his best for the work now before Bragg.

Morgan was now to be given a chance to try his hand in Kentucky. For some months there had been no material interruption of the Louisville and Nashville railroad, and Rosecrans was using it and the Cumberland River to supply his army at Nashville. General Bragg was perfectly familiar with the preparations that Rosecrans was making for the advance of his army southward, and he knew that a decisive battle could not be long delayed.

General Morgan’s name was now on every tongue. His July raid from Knoxville into Kentucky, where he had marched a thousand miles, destroyed millions of dollars worth of property, and terrorized a district three hundred miles long and sixty miles wide, his services during the invasion of Kentucky by General Bragg, and his splendid exhibition of genius demonstrated in covering General Bragg’s retreat from Kentucky in October, and the Battle of Hartsville had given him not only a well-deserved but wide reputation. The things he had done were along new lines and everywhere created wonder and admiration. The Battle of Hartsville, one of the most brilliant exploits in the history of the Confederacy, resulted in Morgan’s being advanced to brigadier general. Seven days after the Hartsville expedition, General Morgan was married to Miss Ready, of Murfreesboro, among the most brilliant, charming and attractive women of the Southland. There were those at the time who predicted that this marriage, under the circumstances surrounding Morgan’s military career, would affect his success. Be this as it may, this splendid woman enthusiastically entered into the military hopes and ambitions of her now greatly distinguished husband, and moved and inspired with the loyalty and courage that filled the hearts of the women of the South, urged rather than restrained the enterprise and activity of her companion.

Morgan always did best when he was allowed to act independently. When operating his own way and managing his campaigns, he was one of the most successful, dangerous and destructive of Confederate cavalry leaders. Full of resource, glorying in adventure, he imbued his men with his marvelous fervor and passionate ardor. Within a few days after his promotion to brigadier general, his forces were materially strengthened. Colonels W. C. P. Breckinridge and Robert G. Stoner each recruited battalions in Kentucky in the fall of 1862. These were now consolidated and thereafter known as the 9th Kentucky Cavalry, with Breckinridge as colonel and Stoner as lieutenant colonel. Toward the end of September Colonel Adam R. Johnson reached Murfreesboro with a regiment which he had recruited in Western Kentucky, of about four hundred men. It had been battered by service, and received rough handling in the Federal lines, but had a splendid organization. Its lieutenant colonel, Robert M. Martin, was confessedly one of the most daring and dashing of the men who wore the Confederate uniform. The brigade was now thirty-nine hundred strong. The misfortunes of war had dismounted some of the troops, and part of them were not fully armed, but all knew that the next raid would remedy these deficiencies. Morgan divided his regiments into two brigades, the first under command of General Basil W. Duke, Colonel of the 2d Kentucky, and the second under command of Colonel W. C. P. Breckinridge, of the 9th Kentucky. Colonel A. R. Johnson was at this time considered the ranking colonel, and when offered by General Morgan the command of the second brigade, declined it, preferring to act as colonel of the 10th Kentucky. Later, however, he accepted promotion to a brigadier.

Then, many believed that Colonel Roy S. Cluke, of the 8th Kentucky, should have been made brigadier general, and it is said that his raid into Kentucky, which followed in February and March, 1863, was projected in order to equalize things on account of Colonel Cluke being ranked at this time by Colonels Breckinridge and Johnson. Both Cluke and Johnson hesitating, Morgan appointed Breckinridge to command the second brigade. The first was composed of the 2d Kentucky, Duke’s, the 3d Kentucky, Gano’s, the 8th Kentucky, Cluke’s, with Palmer’s battery of four pieces. The second was composed of the 9th Kentucky, Breckinridge’s, the 10th Kentucky, Johnson’s, the 11th, Chenault’s, and the 14th Tennessee under Colonel Bennett. These had a Parrott gun and two mountain howitzers. By November, 1862, Morgan’s forces had reached in equipment and numbers a very high grade of efficiency. True, there were some unmounted and unarmed men, but these could be used as horse holders, and as out of every four men, one must hold horses, when four thousand cavalrymen should go into battle, one thousand of them would have to remain at the rear with the animals while the other three-fourths dismounted to fight.

For a few days preceding the 21st, the farriers were busy shoeing the horses. Equipments were inspected with minutest scrutiny. Ammunition was counted out, the mounts were carefully examined, as only soldiers and horses that could stand a strenuous and long drawn out expedition were to be taken. These men and beasts were to be subjected to the rigors of storms, travel and cold that would try out the highest resistance of flesh and blood to nature’s warfare. These preparations the rank and file knew portended immediate and intense activity. The division then comprised a remarkable body of young men. It represented a full share of the chivalry and flower of the states of Kentucky and Tennessee. Lawyers, physicians, farmers, clerks, and here and there clergymen were either officers or in the ranks. A large proportion of these were liberally educated. Intelligent and patriotic and full of the spirit of adventure and romance which attached to cavalry, they were ready for any service and always would go without fear where duty called. They were proud, and that made them brave. The vast majority of the men were under twenty-five years of age, and youth always makes the best soldiers if the material and leadership are good.

On the morning of December 22d, in and around the little town of Alexandria, the lines of the divisions were formed. The Kentuckians sat astride their horses most anxiously, longing for the command to move. They looked and acted like men who understood that work was cut out for them.

In a brief while a general order from their leader was read. There was no longer any reason for concealment. In a few moments they knew they were going into Kentucky, and the hope and promise of home-going caused the blood to tingle in their veins and their hearts to beat with quickened rapture and joy. These boys could guess the path they would follow, and the confidence of their commander added new courage to their hearts. He told them candidly where they were going; he reminded them who they were, and he impressed upon them what was expected of them. Prolonged and vociferous cheering was heard when the order was read, and the hills and the woods were filled with the glad shouts of these exiled youths who were now to turn their faces homeward. With wild hurrahs they expressed their delight, and with exultant outcries gave dauntless response to the call of their chieftain. The one Tennessee regiment felt the spirit of the hour. Though going from home, they caught the delirium of joy that thrilled these horsemen, now commencing one of the great marches of a great war.

From Alexandria for some distance there was a good road. In a little over two hours the column had covered eight miles. Suddenly the stillness of the march was disturbed. The men far up in front heard, away to the rear, triumphant yells and tremendous cheering. They knew what this meant. Morgan was coming. Alongside the column, with a splendid staff, magnificently mounted, superbly dressed, riding like a centaur, bare-headed, with plumed hat in his right hand, waving salutations to his applauding followers, the general came galloping by. Pride and happiness were radiated from every feature of his joyous face. He was now a brigadier general, and new opportunity was opened to add to his already superb fame. He had just been married to one of the most beautiful and gracious women of the South. As he released himself from her tender embrace and felt the touch of her lovely lips upon his own and saw the tear-drops trickle down her cheek, painted by the delicate touch of nature with most exquisite colors, he caught an inspiration that lifted him up to the sublimest heights of human heroism, and imbued him with a valor that stirred every fibre of his soul, and made him feel that with him there must be victory or death. He had with him four thousand Kentucky boys, well armed, for so large a force well mounted, and there spread out before his enraptured fancy scenes of conquest and glory that filled his mind with ecstasy and delight. There was in such an hour of splendor no omen of the gloom and darkness of the future, and no signal came to warn of the time when, a few months later, by war’s harsh and cruel edict, his hopes would be shattered, when his dead body would be mutilated by his vengeful foes and the weeping wife and an unborn babe would feel forever the rude shock of the awful bereavement.

No time was now to be wasted. Every moment must count. To do the work that he had undertaken and to do it well meant that he must ride like the whirlwind and march like the storm. Biting cold, drenching rains, chilling sleet, were not to be considered. Rapid night rides, days without food, sleepless watchings, ceaseless vigils, constant battle, fording or swimming rivers, and defiance of nature’s protest and barriers, held out no terrors for these high-spirited riders. All believed that leaders and men were invincible and that a generous fate would protect and guard them in whatever dangers and difficulties the fortunes of war would bring, on the campaign to which their country and Cause had bid them come.

By the night of the 22d, the first brigade had forded the Cumberland River at Sand Shoal, and at dawn the second had crossed the stream. There were not enough rations to require long delays for feeding. The horses ravenously munched the meagre supply of corn and fodder that had been impressed to satisfy their hunger. By sundown the column had covered thirty miles. There was heavy work ahead. They would meet and attack Federal garrisons who were in stockades and forts. This made it necessary to have the artillery; but the guns, however important, slowed down the speed of the march.

By the 6th of May, 1862, Andrew Johnson had spoken savagely of Morgan and his men. In writing to Horace Maynard, Member of Congress, he said: “Morgan’s marauding gang should not be admitted to the rules of civilised warfare, and the portion of his forces taken at Lebanon should not be held as prisoners of war. I hope you will call attention of Secretary Stanton to the fact of their being a mere band of freebooters.” The seven months that had transpired since this utterance had not increased the good opinion of the Federals concerning Morgan’s brigades. The Union forces were so much afraid of General Morgan and talked so much of his exploits and his expeditions that they created in the minds of the public, who did not sympathize with the South, a most exaggerated and ridiculous idea of him and his men. They were singing and talking of “Morgan, Morgan and his terrible men.”

By the 24th of December Morgan had reached up into Barren County, five miles from Glasgow and ninety miles from the place where he had started. Two companies were sent forward to secure information of conditions at Glasgow. One of these was commanded by Captain William E. Jones of the 9th Kentucky Cavalry. About this time the advance guard of a battalion of the 2d Michigan Cavalry entered the place upon the opposite side from that which Jones had come in. As both parties were looking for trouble, it did not take long to bring on a fight, and they met about the center of the town. Jones was mortally wounded, and William Webb, of Breckinridge’s regiment, one of the best men in Kentucky, fell in the conflict. In the melee Lieutenant Samuel O. Peyton, of the 2d Kentucky, was wounded, having been shot in the arm and hip. His foes, gathering around him, demanded his surrender. He fired his revolver, killing one of his assailants, grappled with the second, threw him to the ground and stabbed him to death with his knife. The Federals were not expecting such a reception or such resistance, and so within a very few minutes, they were driven away. Twenty-two prisoners, including a captain, were captured and paroled. The gage of battle had been thrown down and conflict must be expected at any moment. The command was in a territory where both garrisons and obstructing and opposing forces would be vigilant and aggressive, and where every energy of the Federal authorities was put under stern requisition to harass and delay or destroy this Confederate force, which on mischief and devastation bent, in the face of winter’s defiance, and far from supports, was offering battle’s wage to those who stood in their pathway of ruin and destruction.

The roads had now become better. There was a turnpike leading from Glasgow toward Louisville. Mysteriously Morgan’s coming had been known to the citizens. The entire length of the Louisville & Nashville Railroad was thickly studded with stockades, and every bridge of any importance had a full guard, and towns like Elizabethtown and Munfordsville, Bowling Green and Shepherdsville were all protected by strong garrisons. The great importance of the Louisville & Nashville Railroad as a means of feeding and supplying the Federal Army at Nashville and below, demanded that it should be fully and thoroughly defended, and no small force could hope to avail against this thorough preparation on the part of the Federals for the guarding of this essential highway.

Captain Quirk, in command of the advance guard and the scouts, had not gone very far until he found a battery across the road and supports on either side. An impetuous attack was the answer to this challenge, and it did not require very long to brush this obstruction out of the Confederate path. Johnson’s regiment had been sent in the direction of Munfordsville to threaten that place, but General Morgan turned his forces south and east of the Green River, which was not forded without much difficulty. The banks were steep and muddy and the water high enough to give great inconvenience. As there was a long railroad bridge at Munfordsville, a strong Federal garrison had been gathered at that point to defend it. His force was not large enough to assault the earthworks protecting this structure. General Morgan had determined to destroy the trestles at Muldraugh Hill, six miles north of Elizabethtown. The damage there would more than equal any he could inflict at Munfordsville. It was of importance that he should create upon the minds of the Federals the impression that he would assail the garrison at Munfordsville and force them to concentrate there, when his men should reach the Louisville & Nashville Railroad between Munfordsville and Elizabethtown, and bridges and culverts torn up, there need not be any particular worry about the Federal forces in the rear. Infantry would have to be moved along the railroad and they would stand a slight chance to catch Morgan and his horsemen on lines removed from the thoroughfare. Little sleep was allowed that night. On the morrow General Morgan had mapped out great work. He intended to take the stockades at Bacon’s Creek and Nolin River and destroy the bridges there. During the night a tremendous rain had fallen, and all day it still kept coming down in torrents. The cannon and caissons in the mud and slush made slow progress and prevented very rapid movement. A regiment had been despatched to Bacon’s Creek bridge, and at eleven o’clock the cannonading there was distinctly heard. It was necessary to reduce the stockade and capture the Federal garrison at that point in order to prevent the Federals from sending new troops to Nashville.

The force sent thither not returning delayed the march, and it was three o’clock before it got under way. General Morgan took the reinforcements that had arrived from the feint toward Munfordsville, and he went over with these to learn what was the cause of the detention at Bacon’s Creek. Upon his arrival, peremptory demand was made by him for surrender, and the Federal forces under Captain James of the 19th Illinois promptly complied. The stockade was immediately burned and the torch applied to the trestle. The garrison at Nolin was less disposed to fight than those at Bacon’s Creek, and these laid down their arms without resistance. The stockade and bridge were consigned to the flames. Great fires were built along the tracks of the Louisville & Nashville for several miles, the iron rails, torn from the ties, were placed upon these and were warped and bent so as to be unfit for use until carried to a rolling mill.

On the morning of December 27th General Morgan learned of the presence of a considerable force at Elizabethtown, and moved over to that place. When within a short distance of the town a most ludicrous communication was sent out under a flag of truce. It ran somewhat like this: “Elizabethtown, Kentucky, December 27th, 1862. To the commander of the Confederate forces: I have you surrounded and will compel you to surrender. I am, sir, your obedient servant, H. S. Smith, Commander United States Forces.” General Morgan smiled and chuckled. He informed the bearer of this extraordinary despatch that he trusted he would convey the impression to his commander that the positions were reversed, that it was the Federal forces that were to surrender and not the Confederates, and he requested their immediate capitulation, to which he received the rather unique reply that “it was the business of a United States officer to fight and not to surrender.” As nothing but a fight would satisfy the six hundred and seventy men under command of Colonel Smith, General Morgan prepared to give him what he wanted. Surrounding the town, skirmishers were thrown forward and the position of the enemy developed. He had taken position in brick houses on the outside of the town and resolved to have a street fight. The Federals had no artillery, and the Confederates had seven pieces. It was a very unequal contest. The Confederates marched boldly in. They had seen street fighting before. Colonel Cluke and Lieutenant Colonel Stoner, who later at Mount Sterling in February and March were to win additional fame, entered the town at the head of their men. A few well-directed shells convinced the Federals of the folly of resistance. The gallant Federal colonel still refused to surrender, but his men, rushing out, displayed the white flag, and left him to his fate. Six hundred and fifty-two prisoners, including twenty-five officers, were the result of this fight.

The great prize for which the Confederates were contending was yet six miles away. Two mighty trestles, one nine hundred and one a thousand feet long and ninety feet high, were the means by which the Louisville & Nashville Railroad climbed Muldraugh’s Hill and debauched on the Elizabethtown side of that small mountain range. The bridges and trestles heretofore destroyed were small in comparison to these two immense structures. Both of these trestles were defended by garrisons, and both were well fortified. These troops had been especially ordered to fight to the last ditch. Seven hundred men had been placed to guard these giant viaducts. They were the highest and most valuable on the Louisville & Nashville Railroad, and the Confederates had never been able to reach them before. Full stores had been collected at this point. On this expedition Captains Palmer and Corbett handled the artillery with consummate skill and bravery. Their well-directed shots in a brief while brought both garrisons to terms. The flames ascending high into the air told the story of the victory and triumph of the Confederate forces, and the columns of smoke lifting their shadows up toward the heavens proclaimed to the pursuers that the dreaded calamity had overtaken the all-important trestles which meant so much to the railway, and that they had gone down before the avenging hand of enemies. Small forces were sent out a few miles north toward Shepherdsville and destroyed some unimportant structures. General Morgan had wrecked the road now for something like fifty miles. Nothing inflammable had escaped the touch of his destructive torch. Having accomplished all they had intended to do, with Federal forces south and southeast and others in the path in every direction, he now faced the problem of safely escaping from these foes which beleaguered and beset him on every side. He had now reached one hundred and seventy miles into the enemy’s territory. He had destroyed twenty-three hundred feet of bridging and put the railroad out of commission for many weeks.

In cavalry experiences it is sometimes easier to get in than to get out. The whole country south and east of Morgan was aroused. The Federal commanders at Washington and Nashville were beginning to question with vehement pertinacity how Morgan had been allowed to ride so far and do so much damage without serious interruption. It was true that the defenders at Bacon’s Creek were not very numerous, that those at Nolin were less so, and that those at Elizabethtown and the Muldraugh trestles had no chance against the well-directed artillery of the Confederates, backed by thirty-five hundred cavalry; but up in Louisville, at Nashville, at Washington, Morgan seemed to be going where he pleased and doing what he pleased. At these centers, so far removed from the scene of his action, it appeared that those who were opposing him, or following, were neither diligent nor brave. The men at Washington, Louisville, or Nashville were not marching in the cold, or riding through the mud and the rain. They could not take in the surroundings of the men who were at work on the spot, and so they became both inquisitive and critical. General Morgan, however, was not underrating the efforts of his foes to minimize the damage he might do or to prevent his escape. Great soldier as he was, he foresaw what he must face and overcome when he turned his face southward and undertook to break through the cordon his enemies were establishing around him. He had before him for outlet a territory sixty miles wide, filled with numerous highways. Nearly all these were merely country roads, which when cut by his artillery and churned by the sixteen thousand feet of the horses his men were riding, would be only streams of mire.

Mud and slush would face him along any line he should march except one, and that was through Bardstown and Springfield, Lebanon and Campbellsville. Lebanon was on the railroad and it could be promptly and largely reinforced. The Confederate chieftain was too great a leader to be trapped. He realized that he must go higher up the Cumberland in the first place, and find another crossing, and in the second place to get out of the line of those who were bent on his destruction. The Federal leaders did not seem to be in a very great hurry. He turned southeast and on the night of the 28th of December camped on the Rolling Fork, a tributary of Salt River. This was a deep and ordinarily a sluggish stream, with high banks. The rain, a few days before, had filled its bed with angry currents and good fords were infrequent, and particularly fords that would let artillery over. There was a peculiar pride in part of the artillery that made the command ready to fight savagely for them. One of the pieces was a Parrott gun, a trophy of their valor at Hartsville. It was called “Long Tom” because of its extreme length. Closely associated with the victory at Hartsville, it became a great pet of the division, and was treasured as a mascot.

In the midst of the exciting surroundings of the campaign, a court martial had been sitting at intervals, as a little leisure could be spared, upon Lieutenant Colonel Huffman, in command of Gano’s regiment. General Morgan had given generous terms to those who surrendered at Bacon’s Creek, and he was displeased with Colonel Huffman’s apparent violation of these terms, and five regimental commanders, Duke, Breckinridge, Cluke, Hutchinson and Stoner, comprised this court. Marching all day and some nights, with an average of forty miles every twenty-four hours, with an occasional diversion of a fight, it was rather difficult for these judges to apportion exact justice to the offending officer. An hour would be taken at night and a little while during the rest of the day, but on this particular morning a full session was held and Huffman was acquitted. As the court martial was writing its finding, couriers came scurrying from the rear with the information that a large Federal force of infantry and cavalry was close at hand and had opened fire. The firing of the pickets and skirmishers was already audible. Some of the troops had crossed the Rolling Fork, but the others were on the same side with the Federals. Cluke’s regiment under Major Bullock had been sent to burn a railroad bridge, and to hold the enemy in check, but the enemy did not seem willing to be checked and they vigorously pressed his rear guard. If the fording of the Rolling Fork had been practicable at every point, it would be easy enough for those now defending it to ride across, but when Cluke’s men got down to the stream it was found there to be impassable. The fields and roads were full of bluecoats, and they were coming where Morgan’s men were. They were not advancing very eagerly, but all the same they were coming. The skirmishers along the fences and in the woods were delaying their progress as much as possible, but formalities seemed to be waived, and the Federals were pressing down upon the men on their side of the stream in large force. The Federal artillery, well managed, got the range of the ford where the Confederates were crossing and was throwing shells with accuracy and rapidity, which was splashing the water along the line where the men in gray must pass. About seven hundred men, including several companies of Cluke’s regiment, were on the west side of Rolling Fork. The Federal Army, composed of infantry and cavalry, was closing in upon them. With an enemy in front and the river behind them it looked especially gloomy for the men under Cluke. This 8th Kentucky Cavalry in camp, with a high type of soldierly pride, styled themselves “Cluke’s War Dogs,” and it looked now as if the “war dogs” were to get all the war that they could possibly desire.

At this moment General Duke was struck on the side of the head by a fragment of a shell and rendered unconscious. A brave and agile soldier sprang behind him and held him on his horse and carried him over the stream. The skirmishers were plugging away at each other at close range. One of the enemy’s batteries was proving especially destructive, and Captain Virgil Pendleton of the 8th Kentucky was ordered to charge this battery. He killed the cannoneers or drove them from their guns, and this silenced these destructive agents for a quarter of an hour. This brave captain was struck by an exploding shell from other guns of the enemy and seriously and dangerously wounded. Ninety days later he was killed while charging through the streets of Mount Sterling.

Colonel W. C. P. Breckinridge assumed command of the Confederates on the side with the Federals, and with great skill and gallantry helped bring them out of the perils that were thick around them.

Seconds were lengthened into minutes. The strain was intense. It was a critical moment for the Confederates not yet over the stream. Another assault by the Federals meant capture or death or a plunge into the deep, icy waters of Rolling Fork. At this juncture the Federals suddenly retreated. No one has ever been able to explain this let-up at this opportune time for the advancing hosts, nor been able to guess why the men in blue failed to attack and scatter their foes when victory was so easy and only needed the closing in to insure its certainty.

Hope appeared to be departing, and when it looked darkest, some of Cluke’s men, by riding into the stream, had found a possible but difficult ford. This had been experimentally discovered. The emergencies forced the men to ride out into the water. They had no guides, and fortunately someone had found by testing that there was a way of escape, and in the lull the rearguard of the Confederates hurried across the stream. The bulk of the casualties fell to Cluke’s regiment. They had sustained their reputation as “war dogs.” They were proud that the enterprise of their leaders, their luck, and their courage had brought them safely through.

General Morgan now turned detachments loose upon the bridges upon the Lebanon Branch; some of these were destroyed. This would prevent reinforcements from rapidly reaching Lebanon. The stockade at Boston and other small structures were burned. On the night of the 30th the division camped at Bardstown, and by three o’clock next day it bivouacked at Springfield, nine miles from Lebanon. The fierce cold, the long ride, the severe strain, physical and nervous, demanded a brief halt. The leader realized that Morgan’s men were human. He apprehended the seriousness of the situation. Over at Lebanon, stretched far away along the pike up towards Campbellsville and Muldraugh’s Hill, the Federals were waiting to contest the only good road by which he could reach the Cumberland River. If he could get around Lebanon to Campbellsville, he calculated that over the pike from Campbellsville to Columbia he could make a forced march that would enable him to outride the Federals, who were taking a short cut from Glasgow and surrounding towns, to head him off from Burksville on the Cumberland River.

The Federals had been massing forces at Lebanon. The glare of the camp fires could be seen from Springfield, where Morgan was resting for the great spurt. Enemies were there in such numbers that General Morgan dared not attack the town. They were reported eight thousand. Harlan, who had crossed swords with him at Rolling Fork, was in his rear. Colonels Halisy and Hoskins and their eight thousand men were in his front. The night was intensely dark, and the thermometer was below zero. The turnpike between Springfield and Lebanon was full of Federal pickets, backed up by infantry, that were double Morgan’s numbers.

Early in the night Colonel A. R. Johnson of the 10th drove in the pickets on the Lebanon road and attacked them with such fierceness that a cavalry regiment which was stationed six miles from Lebanon, on the Campbellsville road, was called in to help defend the town. The withdrawal of this cavalry regiment opened up a possible way of escape for Morgan without a fight. At Springfield there were many friends and sympathizers. They were honest and safe advisers. Had Morgan’s men been fresh and his horses not wearied, the situation would have been less perplexing to the dauntless general. From every direction enemies were fast approaching and, stirred deeply by the criticisms of superiors, were closing in to destroy the Confederate leader.

The hour had now come for Morgan again to demonstrate the force of his genius and the extent of his resources. He saw that the best way of escape was the longest way; that he could not whip the eight thousand Federals at Lebanon and he must manage to get around them. He determined to make a detour to the right of Lebanon, pass the Federal Army there, then swing back on to the road which led from Lebanon to Campbellsville and rush to the latter place with all possible speed. He calculated that by outwitting the enemy and by a forced march, he would reach Campbellsville before his escape would be discovered and before the Federals could get in his front to seriously interfere with his going.

An appalling night’s experiences were now to face the bold raider and his hardy followers. They were without even hope of succor or support. Here Morgan could rely only upon himself and those who were with him to rid his path of the dangers, which, if he doubted or hesitated, would be unsurmountable.

As the Federals at Lebanon did not come after him he decided to remain at Springfield until eleven o’clock at night. This would give time for sleep for the men and opportunity to rest and feed the beasts. By the hospitable firesides of sympathizers, the Confederates warmed their benumbed limbs and the patient brutes were allowed to feed and munch to their fill. To multiply troubles, the temperature, already cold, had become colder. Sharp, penetrating winds whistled through the naked trees and whirled around the corners of the houses, warning the wise to seek and keep shelter. Wintry blasts notified the soldiers of what might be expected if they dared defy their suggestion. The mercury in the thermometer nestled several degrees below zero and hid far down in the tube as if afraid to expose itself to the cold. Morgan’s enemies had not learned exactly where he was, but they knew he was about and they knew that they were in his front.

General Boyle, commander of the Kentucky Department, telegraphed Abraham Lincoln in Washington: “Morgan is fleeing precipitately. He has paid dearly for what he has done.” The wires were kept busy by the Federals, prophesying what would happen to the bold raiders. Superiors were assured that disaster was bound to overtake Morgan within a few hours. Fate had decreed that these prophecies were not to be verified.

Everybody knew that really great work had been cut out for the night. No order was required to tell the men of this. The long rest at Springfield of eight hours was a sure augury that a furious night march was in store. The men prepared themselves as best they could. At the hospitable little town of Springfield, in cavalry parlance, “square meals” were available. This meant that one could eat enough at a sitting to tide over forty-eight to seventy-two hours without hunger’s interference. A common sense of danger filled the minds of all the soldiers at this resting place. They knew that heavy work was expected, certainly a night’s ride, facing the winds that cut to the marrow and cold that struck into the joints, and maybe a battle or attack in the darkness. They had wrapped blankets about their bodies and covered their feet with strips of cloth. The strain was too great for a few, and here and there a man or so had succumbed to the terrific pressure of the elements and had fallen out of line; but in thirty-nine hundred men that such a small number were unable to meet these difficulties was a great tribute to both the physical and mental vigor of these horsemen. They warmed themselves and satisfied their appetites to the limit, and with the bravado of true cavaliers, they bade care flee away and fears begone as they mounted into their saddles. They were not afraid to face any emergency, even all that the dreadful night ahead had in store for man and beast.

The aid of the best available guides was secured. These bundled themselves up as if they were in Lapland. At eleven o’clock on the night of the 30th, General Morgan set out on his journey around his enemies. He counted darkness as his best ally. It was nine miles from Springfield to Lebanon and nine miles from Lebanon to St. Mary’s, where he must pass the Federal trocha, and then it was fifteen miles from St. Mary’s to the point where General Morgan could hope in safety to strike the turnpike from Lebanon to Campbellsville. This meant a loss of fifteen miles, with jaded horses and tired men. Before General Morgan left Springfield he had a strong line of skirmishers drive in the Federal pickets. These stacked rails for a mile through the fields and then fired them. The reflection of the flames on the sky caught the eyes of the Federal pickets. The Union commanders came to the conclusion that no men would dare march through the wind and cold of such a night and Morgan was where the flames were blazing, and that on the morrow, to get by, he must engage them in combat. The mud roads which the Confederates must follow to St. Mary’s and to Newmarket were uneven, frozen, ragged. The cold was so intense that it partially stupefied the beasts. The men were compelled to dismount to keep themselves from being frost bitten, and walk beside their stumbling steeds. It seemed as if humanity could not stand the dreadful punishment that nature was inflicting upon these intrepid men. The game was too fierce for a few, and these by sheer exhaustion fell by the wayside. The horses in sympathy with their masters hung their heads low. Icicles gathered on their manes and breasts, covered their bridles and halters, and dangled from their nostrils. Ice coated the beards and moustaches of the men. Half the time they walked by their steeds, stamping their feet, swinging their hands and beating their bodies to drive away the stupor which extreme cold imposes upon flesh and blood. There was no loud word spoken. Commands, if given, were uttered in soft tones, and all were directed to ride, walk or march in absolute silence. These things added much to the hardships of the night’s work. If they could have jollied each other, or cheered or enlivened the hours with badinage, it would have somewhat relieved the oppressiveness of the continually lengthening miles. The men obeyed the orders in patient submission to the severe calls of the moment, and uncomplainingly bore the burdens that patriotism exacted of them in the dire emergency that war’s fortunes had decreed they must endure. Man and beast seemed to be well-nigh overwhelmed with the chilling air. It was a long, long night, and one that no man who had undergone its terrors would ever forget. Morgan’s men had suffered many hardships and were yet to know many more, but with one voice they declared that this march around Lebanon to St. Mary’s and back to the Campbellsville Pike was the most fearful experience they had ever suffered, except, when ninety days later, they rode the sixty miles from Saylersville to Mount Sterling with Cluke, on March 20th, 1863.

At half past six o’clock day began to dawn. The guides were bewildered or indifferent and had lost their bearings. When the light enabled them to take in the surroundings, it came out that the command had only made something like two miles an hour, and instead of being well on the road towards Campbellsville, they were only two and a half miles from Lebanon. The Federals in camp had laid upon their arms all night. They could sleep and cover up their heads and rest with some degree of comfort in their tents, but they were not astir very early, and they had no accurate knowledge whither Morgan had gone. It was a glad moment when light lifted the burdens from the weary marchers. The sun riding from the east through the clouds assured these nervy horsemen that the terrors of darkness no longer overshadowed them. Once again on the macadam highway, the horses seemed glad and quickened their pace. Increasing speed, with its accelerated motion, brought warmth to their bodies and cheer to their masters’ hearts. At nightfall the command was safe at Campbellsville. They pondered over the terribleness of the past night’s experiences, but the enemy was behind, and this repaid them for the sufferings and agony they had endured.

On the march up the long hill where the turnpike, by constant but easy and tortuous gradients, reaches the tablelands around Campbellsville, the county seat of Taylor County, occurred one of the real tragedies of the war. Colonel Dennis J. Halisy commanded the 6th Kentucky Federal Cavalry. He had charge of the advance in pursuit of Morgan. He was a bred fighter, young, ambitious, game to the core, and as adventurous as he was game. Halisy was following Morgan’s rear guard with the Federal horsemen, picking up the stragglers, if any could be found, and pushing the Confederates as strongly as prudence would allow. Captain Alex. Treble and Lieutenant George B. Eastin were both officers of the 2d Kentucky Confederate Cavalry. These lagged behind the rear guard in search of adventure, anxious to show that nobody retreating was afraid, and not unwilling for a fight, if favorable opportunities came their way.

The top of Muldraugh’s Hill, which overlooked the plain below, where Lebanon, St. Mary’s and Springfield had been passed, was reached a brief while after midday. Treble and Eastin were superbly mounted. Both were over six feet tall, wiry, vigorous men, whose nerves and muscles had been hardened by the exposure and training of severest military experiences. Coming along an open stretch, a thousand feet away, these two young soldiers observed Colonel Halisy and three officers quite far advanced ahead of the Federal column. They were both proud, born brave and dauntless, and they resented the idea that two Kentucky Confederate cavalrymen would run away from a fight with four Federals. Placing themselves behind a sudden turn in the road, they waited for the pursuers to appear. Both skilled revolver shots, they were confident that by a sudden onslaught they would kill two of those following and then grapple with the remaining couple and win out. If they had reasoned they would have, hesitated, but in that period of the war, the courage and pride amongst the Kentucky boys who went south did not consume time reasoning nor making many figures in calculating the hazards and dangers of rencontres, and so they resolved to stake their lives, or at least their liberties, on the issue with these foes, who appeared equally indifferent to peril.