The 125th Regiment, Illinois Volunteer Infantry: Attention Batallion!

[Illustration:

_J. W. Langley_, (Late Colonel of the 125th Volunteer Infantry.) ]

The 125th Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry. Attention Battalion!

[Illustration]

By Robert M. Rogers,

Late Second Sergeant Co. B.

Champaign, ILL. Gazette Steam Print. 1882.

_To the Memory_

—Of Those—

Officers and Enlisted Men,

Who leaving the endearments and comforts of home, willingly came at their country's call to her service, and on her altar yielded up their lives, this book is affectionately dedicated by the

Author.

Introduction.

Comrades And Friends:

In presenting to you this record of our military life and of the time we passed in the service of the Government, we have done it with the hope that our efforts will be appreciated by you. Our desire has been to make this a record, which we can leave behind us after we are gone, to those who may come after us. We have done our best to make it reliable and correct. There may be mistakes in it—undoubtedly there are; but the general statements are correct, we know, while the incidents recounted are true, as many of you will aver after you have read them. We have had to labor under great difficulties in preparing for your inspection and benefit these pages, and at times have almost become discouraged, but we persevered, and at last succeeded in getting them into a shape which we thought would warrant us in placing them in the hands of the printer, and distributing them among you. Between the covers of the book you will find not only a record of our marches, battles, and bivouacs, but also a complete roster of the Regiment, showing what became of every man who, on the 3rd day of September, 1862, was mustered into the service of the United States in the 125th Illinois; whether he died on the field of battle, was taken prisoner, transferred to other organizations, or was mustered out with the Regiment at Chicago, when only 343 of the original one thousand who filled the Regiment when we left home, answered to their names. If he is buried in any Government Cemetery, the number of his grave is given. Hoping that our endeavors to make, for the regiment, a record which shall be not only valuable but also entertaining, and one which shall meet with your approbation, we place it in your hands for perusal.

But be assured that not one word has been written in these pages with the intention of wounding any one's feelings in the least. Far from it! We have too much good feeling for those lads who with us marched through "Dixie," to do anything to give them pain.

Again, hoping you will be pleased with our endeavors we remain

Yours Truly,

Robert M. Rogers.

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Table Of Contents.

Chapter I

The organization of the Regiment—Rendezvous at Danville—We start for Cincinnati, etc., etc.

Chapter II

Arrival at Cincinnati—Camp in the corn-stalk huts at Covington, Kentucky—Incidents of Camp Life, etc., etc.

Chapter III

First night on picket—Asleep on post—Shooting at Capt. Fellows by picket—Receiving the mules necessary for transportation—Incidents connected therewith, etc., etc.

Chapter IV

Down the Ohio to Louisville, Kentucky—Arrival of Buell's army—Camp on river bank—Removal to the cattle-pen, etc., etc.

Chapter V

Our lessons in soldiering just begun—The Brigade formed—The appearance of Louisville at this time—Futile endeavors to get discharged by some of our warriors, etc., etc.

Chapter VI

We leave Louisville for the South—Foraging—Sickness in the regiment—First death in Co. B., etc., etc.

Chapter VII

Interview with Sheridan—We reach Bardstown—Locked up—Speedy release, etc., etc.

Chapter VIII

Battle of Perrysville—Incidents of the fight—The Regiment's "baptism of fire"—First bayonet charge, etc., etc.

Chapter IX

Reflections on the battle of Perrysville—Arrival at night of the supply train—A ramble over the battle-field—Scenes and incidents, etc., etc.

Chapter X

March to Crab Orchard—Description of the country—Blankets and knapsacks—Missing—How Doc. McElroy lost his blanket, etc., etc.

Chapter XI

The march to, and arrival at, Bowling Green—Relinquishment of Buell's command of the army to Genl. Rosecrans—Better hopes—First issue of the army hat, etc., etc.

Chapter XII

We reach Edgefield—Another interview with Sheridan—Sales of coffee, etc., etc.

Chapter XIII

First inspection—New kind of ammunition—Our hopes not realized—Description of condition of Nashville as left by the rebel army, etc., etc.

Chapter XIV

In camp on the hills—Cotton bale breastworks—Tents issued to us—Visitors from God's country—The theatres—Stores and hotels, etc., etc.

Chapter XV

Garrison duty at Nashville—Battle of Stone River—Description of the battle, etc., etc.

Chapter XVI

Court Martial in camp—The culprit's revenge—Corp. Duncan's interview with the captain at the Custom House, etc., etc.

Chapter XVII

Arrival of the Pay Master—Emancipation Proclamation—We receive our dog tents, etc., etc.

Chapter XVIII

March to Murfreesboro'—Arrive at Lavergne—Appearance of Murfreesboro'—Granger orders some of the boys to be flogged, but is restrained, etc., etc.

Chapter XIX

March to Reed's Bridge—Run into rebel wagon train—Almost trapped—The battle of Chickamauga, etc., etc.

Chapter XX

Farewell of Genl. Rosecrans—"Pap" Thomas assumes command—Caldwell's Ford—Scarcity of rations, etc., etc.

Chapter XXI

An unusual reveille—Death of the Chaplain—Battle of Missionary Ridge.

Chapter XXII

Battle of Missionary Ridge continued—Defeat of the rebels—March to Knoxville, etc., etc.

Chapter XXIII

Assault on Kenesaw—Death of the Colonel—Visit to the hospital—Scenes connected therewith—Incidents of personal bravery, etc., etc.

Chapter XXIV

The cracker-box fortification—Mining the rebel works—Description of Cheatham and Hindman, etc., etc.

Chapter XXV

The move to the right—Marietta evacuated—The Union Army masters north and west of the Chattahoochie, etc., etc.

Chapter XXVI

Atlanta—Sherman's letter vindicating his order—Of the removal of citizens, etc., etc.

Chapter XXVII

Destruction of Atlanta—We start for the sea—Occupation of Milledgville—Joy of the contrabands, etc., etc.

Chapter XXVIII

Our stay at Savannah—Appearance of the city—Chuck-a-luck—Visit to the Wissahicken, etc., etc.

Chapter XXIX

Still at Savannah—Oysters and fresh fish—Commencement of the campaign through South Carolina—Foraging—Destruction of Columbia, etc., etc.

Chapter XXX

Cheraw—The dash on our cavalry by Hampton—Battle of Averysboro' and Bentonville—Occupation of Goldsboro'.

Chapter XXXI

Again on the move—News of Lee's surrender—After Johnson "red hot"—The convention for his surrender, etc., etc.

Chapter XXXII

The news reaches us of the death of the President—Feeling of the army—Basis of agreement for Johnston's surrender.

Chapter XXXIII

The rejection by the Cabinet of the terms—Johnston is notified that Sherman "will move on him in forty-eight hours"—Arrival of General Grant, etc., etc.

Chapter XXXIV

The final surrender—Arrival at Richmond—March to Washington—Departure for Chicago, etc., etc.

Chapter XXXV

Arrival at Chicago—Reception at Union Hall—Speeches of T. B. Ryan, Esq., General Sherman, and Colonel Langley, etc., etc.

Miscellaneous Sketches.

Rome. A Confederate Christmas. Bad meat. Public execution at Nashville. Drawing rations. Blue Ridge. Raids on the suttler. John Kirsch and Tom Makemson's rice trip. Mrs. Dr. Mary Walker. The Monkly fox. Roast goose or gander. The rescued negroes. Our trip after Forrest. Personal mention. Lt. Geo. Scroggs, Sergt. S. C. Abbott, Lt. John J. White. Our color Bearers, Asbury D. Finlay, Harvey S. Tryon, Sergt. Wm. L. Thralls. Resolutions on the Emancipation Proclamation. Resolutions passed by Senate and House of Representatives of the State of Louisiana. Order announcing suspension of hostilities. Order for Grand Review at Richmond. General Sherman's farewell order to the Army. Regimental report of the Atlanta campaign. Regimental report from the fall of Atlanta to the fall of Savannah. Regimental report of Colonel Langley from leaving Savannah until the battle of Bentonville. Regimental report of Captain Cook during and after the battle of Bentonville, to Goldsboro, N. C. Roster of Commissioned Officers. Roster of enlisted men, giving the fate of every man, if buried in soldiers' cemetery, the number of his grave. Brigade reports. Lee and Gordon's Mills to Atlanta, Atlanta, Florence and Savannah, Troublefield Swamps or Bentonville, N. C.

Chapter I.

The One Hundred and Twenty-Fifth Regiment, Illinois Volunteer Infantry, was mustered into the service of the United States, on the third day of September, Eighteen Hundred and Sixty Two, to serve for three years or during the war. The Regiment was made up in the counties of Champaign and Vermilion. Champaign furnishing three companies and Vermilion seven. These companies averaged ninety men each; making a total of nine hundred men, rank and file. The Regiment came into the field under the call for "three hundred thousand more," to assist in putting down what had been familiarly called by some, a "tempest in a tea pot." Four years of bloody strife, and millions of treasure, proved that it was the most tumultuous "tea pot tempest," that ever was heard of in this or any other land. The companies rendezvoused at Danville, the county seat of Vermilion County, and went into camp on the old "Fair Grounds," utilizing the sheds and booths that had been put up there for the exhibition of cattle, sheep, etc. Here it was that comparative order was obtained out of chaos. The companies were composed of men in the prime of life, who had, for the most part, been engaged in farming, and were used to out-door life; the best material to make soldiers of that could be procured in any land. The commander of the Regiment was Oscar F. Harmon, a young and promising lawyer of Danville; the Lieut. Colonelcy was filled by J. W. Langley, of Champaign, who was also a member of the bar. The Major was John B. Lee, of Vermilion, a civil engineer by profession; while from the busy marts of trade came the Adjutant, Wm. Mann, of Danville. The Surgeon was John J. McElroy, of Vermilion; the Assistant Surgeon, C. H. Mills, of Champaign; the Chaplain, Levi Sanders, of Vermilion, while from Champaign came the Quartermaster, A. M. Ayres. The companies were officered as follows:

Co. _A_. Capt. Clark Ralston; 1st. Lt. Jackson Charles; 2nd. Lt. Harrison Low; Enlisted men, eighty-six.

Co. _B_. Capt. Robt. Stewart; 1st. Lt. W. R. Wilson; 2nd. Lt. S. D. Connover; Enlisted men, eighty-eight.

Co. _C_. Capt. W. W. Fellows; 1st. Lt. Alexander Pollock; 2nd. Lt. Jas. D. New; Enlisted men, eighty-eight.

Co. _D_. Capt. Geo. W. Galloway; 1st. Lt. Jas. B. Stevens; 2nd. Lt. John L. Jones; Enlisted men, eighty-six.

Co. _E_. Capt. N. M. Clark; 1st. Lt. W. G. Isom; 2nd. Lt. John Urquhart; Enlisted men, eighty-seven.

Co. _F_. Capt. F. B. Sale; 1st. Lt. John B. Lester; 2nd. Lt. Alfred Johnson; Enlisted men, ninety-two.

Co. _G_. Capt. John H. Gass; 1st. Lt. Eph. S. Howell; 2nd. Lt. Josiah Lee; Enlisted men, ninety.

Co. _H_. Capt. P. M. Parks; 1st. Lt. D. A. Brenton; 2nd. Lt. J. C. Harbor; Enlisted men, eighty-six.

Co. _I_. Capt. Levin Vinson; 1st. Lt. John E. Vinson; 2nd. Lt. Stephen Brothers; Enlisted men, ninety-six.

Co. _K_. Capt. Geo. W. Cook; 1st. Lt. Oliver P. Hunt; 2nd. Lt. Joseph F. Crosby; Enlisted men, one hundred and two.

Life in camp at Danville, was passed as camp life usually is. The regular routine of guard duty, drilling, etc., etc., until one evening at "Dress Parade," our Colonel informed us that we would break camp, and leave for Cincinnati on the following day, and that the number of our Regiment was the One Hundred and Twenty-Fifth. We had been furnished, while in camp, with everything that was necessary for a soldier in the field, excepting tents. The arms which were given us were what were called the "Austrian Rifle," and a poor arm they were. Some of them were not entirely drilled out, and any quantity of them had springs that would not snap a cap, nor on which a bayonet could be fastened without hammering. If we were merely going out for a picnic or a procession, the Regiment was splendidly equipped, but if we were bound for the front, it would have been a matter of little difficulty for a small force of the enemy to have routed us, unless we were given a chance to use the "butts" of our guns, for in that shape only would they have been reliable.

At this stage of the war, when the private soldier received but thirteen dollars per. month, it was patriotism, and not a desire for wealth, that filled the ranks of the Union Army. So, with fifes and drums playing the old tune to which so many have marched to their graves, "The Girl I left behind me," and with our banners gaily floating on the breeze, we started for the seat of war. A train of cattle cars was to be our conveyance, and on them we clambered. The usual scenes, incident to the departure of a Regiment from home, took place: wives parting from their husbands, children from their fathers and fathers from their children; all phases of the human heart were to be seen there. The lingering clasp of the fond wife, the last kiss of the children, the hearty hand shake and a "God speed you, and bring you back safe" of a friend; the men trying to hide their emotions with a forced smile or witty saying. But at last "all aboard," the engine whistled, the bell rang, and amid the cheers of the crowd, away we went, some to their graves. Oh! how many? The rest of us to return at the expiration of the war, for that was the term of our enlistment. Looking back from this late day, the scenes, the events, the recollections of that time, are as bright and vivid in the mind of the writer, as if they had transpired but yesterday. I know not how it was with other companies in the Regiment, but in the one to which the writer belonged, only one man showed the "white feather," at the last moment. He was left laying on the floor of "Floral Pavilion" in the "Fair Grounds," according to his own language, "so sick he did not know what to do." He may have been so, or he may not; at any rate there was not much sympathy shown for him, as we marched off leaving him there, the sole inhabitant of the place.

We have taken rides on the cars which were much more enjoyable, much more comfortable, than that night ride from Danville to LaFayette. The weather was pleasant, however, and there was a full moon; but the cars had no tops, and our eyes were filled with the smoke and cinders from the engine. We thought it the extreme of hardship, and an insult to pack us away like dumb brutes, on such cars; but before we again saw that road, we had seen the time we would have been only too glad to have a chance to ride that way. But we were young, in the prime of life, and our hearts were cheered with the thought that we were doing our duty, and so with laugh and song we whiled away the hours until we arrived at Cincinnati.

Chapter II.

It was on a Sabbath morning, when our train finally stopped, and we were ordered to disembark, and fall into line. The weather was intensely warm. Now, I want to say right here, that if ever I have to order a Regiment of men into the field, in the summer time, and that Regiment is bound for a southern climate, I will not think it necessary to provide them with overcoats, like we were, for we had them issued to us before we left Danville, and thought we had to take them. So there we stood in line, the hot sun pouring down his rays on our heads; our eyes sore from cinders and the loss of sleep; with our accoutrements upon us, and everybody as ill-natured, as might be expected, and no wonder. Oh! how slow the moments went by, it seemed to us hours, but at last the command rings out "Attention Battalion," "Take Arms," "Right Dress," "Right Face," "Forward march," and away we went, the band playing and the flags flying, across the Pontoon Bridge, over the Ohio, into the city of Covington, and the "neutral" state of Kentucky. Marching men, or regulating the gait of a horse to the step of new recruits, was something our worthy Colonel was sadly ignorant of, and it was not to be wondered at, for it was a new business to him. His horse walked too fast for us, and the consequence was that when he arrived at our camp he had but a "corporal's guard" following him. The remainder of the Regiment was scattered like sheep along the way we had come.

The writer and his partner stopped at what had once been a "Beer Garden," and on the tables which had once resounded to the clink of glasses, and which were placed around the enclosure in the shade of the trees, we deposited our weary bodies, and wished we were—at home. Without intending to throw any blame whatever, on the character or motives of our worthy Colonel, covering him with the excuse that he was totally ignorant of the art of "marching men," we must give it as our candid opinion that the march from Cincinnati to our camp on the hills back of Covington, did an injury to the rank and file of the Regiment, from which it never recovered, and which was the remote cause of death to some, and to others of lasting injury. Our camp was situated, truly, at a lofty elevation. We were placed in the Corn Stalk shelters which the "Squirrel Hunters" had occupied when Bragg had threatened Cincinnati with his forces, and who, at the call of the Governor of Ohio, had flocked to the standard of the Union, with their squirrel rifles, and their shot guns, to drive back the rebel hordes, and to maintain the old Flag, with their life blood if need be. They came from the prairie and the wood-land, in such numbers that the Governor was compelled to issue another proclamation, that no more were needed. Into the shelters which they had made from corn stalks, gathered from the fields contiguous, and which were models of skill and ingenuity, showing that the American, as a man, is equal to almost any emergency, our Regiment was marched, and quarters allotted to each company. Oh! those terrible hills, the like we had never seen before. We were prairie men; our homes had been in a level country, but here it was just the reverse, and it seemed to us as if we had ascended to the very heights. The Ohio rolled beneath us, and from its bosom we had to procure the water that was necessary for our use. How many lies were told to get out of the job of carrying water up to camp, or how many oaths were uttered by those who undertook the job, driven to it by necessity, the writer cannot pretend to state, but it was a hard journey, and the consequence was that water became to us, for once, _valuable_, and many was the raid that was made, under cover of the night, to some fellow's mess kettle, that had been filled to cook his breakfast with in the morning. But we enjoyed it all, after we had gotten over our march to get there, and soon the camp was alive with fun and frolic. We had nothing much to do but cook our food, drill, and police the camp grounds, and occasionally go on picket; and so we passed the days away, wondering where we would go to next, writing letters home and doing all in our power to make the time pass pleasantly.

Here it was an incident happened that was ludicrous in the extreme. It was the custom of the picket guard, when returning to camp every morning, to discharge their guns by volley, under command of a commissioned officer, at or into the foot of the hill on which our camp was situated. On this morning, to which we have reference, the pickets had been relieved and returned to camp, and as was their custom, had assembled at the foot of the hill to discharge their pieces. At the command of their officer there was a volley, and from some cause or other the bullets came whizzing over our heads, filling the air with that buzzing sound, which is so familiar to the old soldier, but which sounds like a death knell to the raw recruit. What a scattering to and fro there was, when those leaden missiles came whizzing through the air, what a falling to the ground, and hugging of mother earth was there witnessed. We thought the "Johnnies" had come sure enough; our minds were instantly filled with the accounts we had read of "surprises," "ambuscades," and the idea that the enemy were right on hand, seemed to have filled the minds of many. That scene will never be forgotten by those who are how living, and who witnessed it. It was a terrible "give-away" on the courage and soldierly qualities of at least one company in the One Hundred and Twenty-Fifth Infantry. But we were indeed "infants" in the art of war. And to have seen what followed when it was definitely ascertained as to where the bullets came from, was ludicrous in the extreme. To see a big, brawny fellow who had fallen to the ground, to all appearances as dead as a log, raise up his head and enquire of his nearest neighbor, why _he_ was laying _there_! What in thunder was the reason that, if he felt like laying down, every body else must lay down, too!! Get up and leave me alone now, or I'll hurt somebody!! And to see how quietly these prostrate forms would assume life and locomotion, and glide away into their corn stalk huts; and then at night, after the affair had cooled down somewhat, to listen, as we sat around our camp fires, to each one as he described what his sensations were at the time, seems to us, at this late day, to be just as comical as it was then. But oh! how they redeemed themselves, in after days, from any stigma of cowardice this may have cast upon them; how they faced the enemy and met death as only brave men can, the hearts of those who survived the fray in the years that came after, can bear witness. All honor to them, our neighbor boys, our true and tried friends.

Chapter III.

But in looking back over the time we staid there on those "everlasting hills," memory recalls to us one stormy night, when neither moon nor star gave forth its light, when the heavens were draped in the blackest of darkness, when the wind blew with the force of a hurricane, and our corn stalk shelters were scattered far and wide; when the elements seemed to have combined to extemporize, for us, an entertainment of the grandest description, but which was to be enjoyed vastly more by the in-dwellers of good substantial houses, than we who had for our only covering a roof of corn stalks. But amid all this din and clash of the elements, came the order for an additional force to strengthen the picket guard. It was rumored about that the rebel Gen. John Morgan was in the neighborhood and was going to make a dash on our lines. Whether it was the fact, whether it was a "camp-rumor," or whether it was an _honest_ alarm, we never found out. But there was the order all the same, and it must be complied with. The order called for a detail of three men from each company. The writer and two comrades were the ones who were called on from Co. "B." Gathering our guns and accoutrements was but the work of a moment, and away we went to report at Regimental Headquarters. The night was so dark that we could not discern our file leader, and so an attachment was made to the coat tail of the fellow in front. Down the hill we went, stumbling, and falling, over rocks and clods, until we reached a road. On this we were stationed, three men on a post, with orders for one of us to keep awake. The three to which the writer belonged were stationed at the foot of a large tree; the countersign given us in a whisper; the remainder of the detail marched off; and there we were! on picket! and to our excited imagination the enemy in countless numbers all around us. The night, as we have before stated, was intensely dark, but down on this road, at the foot of the high hills on which we were stationed, the wind did not strike with such fury, and any unusual noise could be plainly heard. There we stood at the foot of that large tree, determined, as we agreed among ourselves, to do our whole duty if matters came to the worst. Suddenly on the night air came the sound of a foot-fall, near; nearer; we held a short consultation, it might be an enemy, no doubt it was; well, we must find out. "Halt!" rang out on the night air. "Who comes there?" back came the answer, "A Friend." This was an assurance most acceptable to us. "Advance, friend, and give the countersign," and up came Capt. Fellows, of Co. "C," who was the officer of the guard. A short whispered consultation, a reminder from the Captain of how to perform our duty, and he passed on down the road to the next post. He had been gone but a little while when "bang" went a gun, and the bullet went whistling over our heads. What did that mean? We cocked our rifles and stood on the defensive, and it would have been terrible trouble for any one who had come our way just then. The whiz of the bullet died away, naught was heard, and we uncocked our guns and sat down, but not long, for again we heard the foot-fall on the road, coming from the direction which the Captain had taken when he left us; nearer it approaches, and again the word "Halt!" rings out on the night air. Back comes the response, "It's all right, don't act the fool as the man did on the post below." We brought our guns down and up came the Captain. "What gun was that Cap?" was our first enquiry. "Why," he replied, "the man on post below you was laying on the ground, and when he heard me coming, cried 'Halt!' and banged away, he came near hitting me too." Of course the usual amount of expletives were indulged in by each of us, making them as strong as the case seemed to require, and the Captain passed on. The articles of war declare that death shall be the penalty for that soldier who goes to sleep while on post; we knew it, it had been told to us, but if John Morgan, with his command, had driven in our pickets in the early gray of that morning, we are strongly inclined to the opinion, that at a certain post on that picket line the guard would have been found sleeping the sleep of the innocent and just. Yes, it is a fact Morpheus had wooed to his embrace, the entire three who occupied the picket post at the foot of that large tree. The reader who scans these pages must please bear in mind that we were "babes" in the art of war, at this time; we had come from our homes and from our farms only a few short weeks before, and the scenes in which we were now playing a part were of the veriest newness to us. We had entered into the service of our country in good faith, we had sworn allegiance to our flag under any and all circumstances, more as a form than anything else as far as our hearts were concerned, but we had not as yet arrived at that period in a soldier's life, when he finds that eternal vigilance is not only the price of liberty, but of his own life also. Morning came at last and with the rest of our comrades we were marched back to camp. We came as "conquerors come," we had stood during the night as an invincible band against our foes. That was, perhaps, what was thought of us in camp, but we knew how we had stood, and were going to keep it to ourselves most decidedly, at any rate we were willing to let "some of you fellows" try it the next time. We had been in camp now on those "everlasting hills," that is, as near as the writer can explain his sentiments about them, for several weeks, but it was not for the business merely of laying on top of them and basking in the sun that the Government had called for our assistance, and which we had almost come to believe was the extent to which the Government had invoked our aid. Oh! no, the Government meant business, and so accordingly one afternoon we received orders to "strike tents," that is what the bugle said, but we had no tents to strike; true there was a remnant of our corn-stalk homes, but the most of them had been scattered by the winds. Well, any way, the bugle call was to us the notice to pack up and fall into line. This we did, and away we marched, leaving our hills, our corn-stalk castles and many other remembrances behind us. Down the "pike" we went to the music of our band, to the steamboat landing, where we found two steamers waiting for us. But we have omitted one incident of our soldier days, when in camp at Covington, and if we had not gotten down to the boats we would have left it out, perhaps, altogether, and if we had, the historical record of the 125th Ills. would have been very incomplete, and so in order that it may be a true record, as near as we can make it, we must not omit this part of it. We have reference to the transportation outfit of the Regiment. Of course when we arrived at our camp at Covington, the only transportation there was, consisted of each man carrying on his back whatever earthly goods he was the possessor of. We had no animals of any kind, excepting the horses of the Colonel and his staff, but here at Covington we were to obtain that most useful, and at the same time most singular quadruped, the _mule_. If I thought myself able I would write an eulogy on that animal, but it is useless to think of that, I can not do it; suffice it then to say that in our humble opinion, the mule with all his eccentricities, played a most important part in the war of the rebellion. A willing servant; too much so we often thought, ready at all times to do his part, whether in pulling in the collar, or packing on his back, strapped on so tight that it was as much as he could do to obtain his regular amount of air necessary for breathing purposes, an almost innumerable amount of blankets, tin pans, pots, roosters, niggers and all the paraphernalia of camp life, or of sending by a quick and powerful discharge of his hind feet a warrior to the hospital, or to the happy hunting grounds, the mule will ever bear an honorable name in the records of the great war. So much for the mule, he was honest, and we must be. But to our narrative. An order came, one morning, to detail from each company a man to drive the company team of six mules. What visions of ease opened up to our minds. "What! is that all they want a fellow to do, drive a team? I'm in for that, here Cap., I'll go, yes so will I and I and I." Thus the strain rang out, until it was much to be feared that the 125th were mule drivers, not only by inclination, but by "previous condition of servitude." Well, at length the detail was complete, and two men from each company, in charge of a commissioned officer, proceeded to Covington to procure the number of mules necessary for the transportation of the Regiment. Twenty men, in the vigor and prime of life, refusing numerous offers of ten dollars apiece for their job, with hearts elate and with buoyant feelings trudged off down the pike rejoicing in their opportunities. The sequel, kind reader! They returned, yes they returned in the evening the maddest set of men that Covington's green hills had seen for many a day; the maimed, the halt, the lame, and we were going to say the blind, but the storm had not been quite that severe. Every mule in each team, with the exception perhaps of one to the team, were as ignorant of restraint as when in blissful happiness it sucked its dam in the old home pasture. The men who had been detailed for teamsters found the animals in a "corral," the Quartermaster of the Post, with his helpers, in attendance. The mules were as wild as buffaloes on their native plains, and were caught by the lasso, and dragged out, and turned over to the man who had been detailed to drive and care for them. When the whole number necessary for our use were secured the receipt of our Regimental Quartermaster paid the bill. The next question and the most intricate one, perhaps, that had ever stirred the souls of these detailed warriors was, what shall we do with them? There was the harness, there was the Government wagons, with their broad tires and a lock chain on each side. The question was solved, they must be hitched to those wagons and hitched they were, and up to camp they came, with every wagon wheel locked and two men to each mule. The word soon spread through the camp, the teams are coming! our teams! and we all flocked to the road side to see them. We will carry this thing no farther, but will leave the reader to imagine the rest. We can see them, as we pen these lines, as they appeared to us the next morning, as we stood by and witnessed the harnessing of these Government mules. Their shoulders were a little sore from pulling the heavy wagons, with locked wheels, up to camp, and their ears were chafed by the bridles, and the general sensation was something new to them altogether, and perhaps visions of the old pasture lot at home, where they had kicked up their heels in mulish joy, flashed before their eyes; at any rate, whatever may have been the cause, the hills of Covington never before, and we will venture the assertion, never will again echo back the like of the noise that was made there on the morning when the teamsters of the 125th Ills. essayed to hitch up the teams, which the Government had furnished to transport us and our belongings into the land of the Southron and the chivalry. The braying of the mules, the curses of the drivers, the cracking of the whips, all combined, served to make a noise the like of which had never been heard before in those parts.

Chapter IV.

The geography of our country tells us, that the Ohio is a broad river; that, we are willing to admit, and rather than be thought narrow minded, we are willing to say that it is a beautiful river, but when the writer, with his heart filled with patriotism, entrusted himself on its bosom, it was blessed with a remarkable shallowness, at any rate our boats kept getting fast on sand bars, shoals, mud or something else, so often, that it would have been no trouble for us all to have crawled off and footed it down the stream, or back home, but that kind of a boat ride would have had its inconveniences, and that was not what we had come for, so like 'Cassabianca,' whom we used to read about in our school days, we clung to the "burning deck." "Down the river, down the river, down the Ohio," we crawled along, until night fall, when for prudence sake our captain steered into the bank and tied up for the night. Can it be possible, we think, while sitting here penning these lines with peace all around us, that between the cities of Cincinnati and Louisville a steamboat Captain was afraid, after night, to take his craft for fear of enemies? Such, however, was the case, and history will bear record to the generations yet to come, that in the nineteenth century this grand river was navigable only in the day time with comparative safety. But we do not want to let our pen run away with our own private thoughts; we do not want to let our individual feelings get the upper hand, we are endeavoring to write a history, and we want it to be correct; we want it to be a history that each and every member of the 125th Ills. can leave behind him when he "strikes his tent" for the last time; a history that he may leave to those who come after him, that in the terrible war which the Nation went through, when right against wrong prevailed, that he was a partaker in the struggle. What better, handsomer, nobler record can we leave to our posterity?

Our trip down the river was not prolific of any incident that would be noticeable here, suffice it to say that we awoke in the morning to hear the chug! chug! of the boat and knew that we were moving, and that we had not been interfered with during the night. We arrived at Louisville that evening and disembarked on the river bank; but little did we think as we stepped off the boat that there, on the banks of the Ohio, we were to receive our first lesson of what a soldier's life would be. Our past experience we thought had been terrible, but the corn-stalk huts which we had occupied, and laughed at, would have been welcome to us now. The stones on the river bank made our couch, and the canopy of heaven our covering. But for fear that history may not give us our right place, and to show that our hearts beat in unison, we will mention that here it was we met the army of General Buell. It arrived in Louisville the same night that we did, fresh from the battle fields of Corinth and Iuka, and had come to the relief of the endangered city. Northern manhood, Northern "grit," was too much for the sluggish blood of Bragg's army, and our boys beat them in the race and saved the city of Louisville. Never can those who witnessed it, forget that sight. Here they came, neighbor boys, old friends, who had left home only a few months prior to us; covered with the dust and stain of travel, no baggage, no impediments, nothing but their trusty Enfields, and sixty rounds of ammunition in their cartridge boxes, with a blanket to each man rolled up in a coil, and fastened around him, this was all they had, while we, in our clean, blue clothes, with thoughts of our having gone through with an awful experience, met these lads. The impression the writer received that night as we witnessed these boys come marching in, was like the opinion that was expressed by some one in our Regiment: "Boys, we don't know anything about soldiering." Morning found us asleep on the banks of the Ohio, with the river rolling past us, down to that country which never before, in the history of the Nation, had been forbidden ground to any of her sons. But to that land we were bound, and if we remained on the banks of the Ohio we would never get there, so when the bugle sounded the call to "fall in," we were ready to obey the signal. The morning opened bright and cheerful, but towards noon the sun was overcast by clouds, and a drizzling rain set in; but it made no difference to us; of course they could not find lodgings for us _that_ night, but now they had awakened to a sense of their duty, and we were going to some hotel to put up. Yes, certainly that was what was the matter, and we fell into ranks with glee. Our hotel was a cattle pen in the suburbs of the city, and into it we marched.

[Illustration]

Chapter V.

Our lessons in the life of a soldier were just commencing. Our new camp was, as we have stated, an old cattle pen or corral, and had at one time been surrounded with a good substantial plank fence, now, however, the only enclosure it had was a camp guard. In this place we found three other Regiments, all new recruits like ourselves. The 85th and 86th Ills., and the 52nd Ohio. With these Regiments we were Brigaded, and remained so until the close of the war, the command being given to Col. Dan'l McCook of the 52nd Ohio, who had smelt powder on Shiloh's bloody field.

The rain, which had been a continuous drizzle, now assumed larger proportions, and came down in regular and persistent style. We had no tents, and of course were entirely without protection, but the American soldier is not a man to long remain uncomfortable, when it is in his power to prevent it, so from the fences adjacent, in spite of the guard, we procured some lumber and soon built shelters from the storm. The next day we were moved to a better camp, for the rain had rendered the old cattle yard entirely unfit for use, if it ever had been. But Louisville at this time was crowded with soldiers, camp followers, and all that goes to sustain the life, and corrupt the morals of a large army. The streets daily resounded to the tramp of marching feet, and the hurrying hither and thither of General officers, members of their staff, and mounted orderlies bearing dispatches to the different headquarters through the city. The blare of the bugle, the braying of mules, the thundering of artillery wheels, from the earliest dawn, until far into the night, were reminders that the General of the Army was fully alive to his trust, and was endeavoring to organize the forces under his command into a shape that would render them manageable. As far as duty was concerned, there was not much required of us, so we passed the time making visits to old acquaintances in the 25th, 35th, 37th and 88th Ills. Regiments which had come up with Buell from the South. But at last the order came for moving. Everything was ready and we were to open up the ball which ended at the fall of Richmond, and the surrender of Joe. Johnston's Army in North Carolina.

The weather was very warm, but so far, no sickness of any great moment had appeared among us, but of course there was some to answer the surgeon's call, and receive their allowance of the good things he had for them. We do not wish to cast any imputation on the medical branch of the army, far from it. We are firm in the opinion that no army, either in the fighting nations of Europe, or in any other land, ever had a medical corps that could surpass our own in skill, dexterity, genuine humanity, and a desire to do their whole duty, but it did seem to us that quinine was the sheet anchor of their faith, and so it came to be a standing joke, that quinine would cure all diseases to which our bodies might be subject. On this morning, to which memory carries us back, orders were given that reports of all who were sick, or in any way disabled from marching, should be made out and forwarded to Regimental headquarters, in order that they might be sent to hospital, or if totally unfit for soldier life, to be discharged. We are of the opinion still, and was at the time, that many men were mustered into the service of the government, when our Regiment was organized, who were not fit for the hardships and privations of army life, especially for active service in the field, and this was owing to what seemed to us, the careless examination made by the mustering officer. We were never examined by a surgeon, as to bodily capacity. The only examination made was for each man, as his name was called, to step out three paces and show his teeth to the officer. The consequence was that when orders came for us to leave Louisville, there were a great many who had to be discharged, because totally unfit for soldier's life, and many also who had to be sent to hospital. Others there were, who would have been perfectly willing to have returned home, entirely satisfied with soldiering, if they could only have had the opportunity. One case the writer remembers which had a very ludicrous side to it, and we will insert it here. There were two members of the Company to which we belonged, who were both satisfied entirely with their share of glory, and were willing to resign their positions as "high privates" to almost any one who wanted it. One of these however, would be discharged, owing to his inability to march (this was before the day of the invalid corps) by reason of a severe cut he had at one time received in the foot from an ax, the other boy was a fit subject for powder, but the patriotism which had filled his bosom, when he enlisted had died out. He had gotten all the glory he wanted and "Home—sweet—Home" was ringing in his ears. However, a discharge, in his eyes, was something worth trying for at least, so he approached the fellow who, by reason of his lameness, was to be discharged, and the following colloquy ensued:

"Say, John, I want to get a discharge, how shall I manage it, can't you help a fellow?"

"Get discharged! Why that's easy enough, I can get one for you."

"Can you? What'll you take to get it?"

"What'll I take? Why nothing. You go and get a pass for us to go down town and I'll go to the medical director of the Post and soon fix you out all right."

Away went the ex-patriot and soon returned with a pass and off they went to call on the medical director. Going along the street says John to his companion:

"Say, Ide! got any money?"

"Yes, a little."

John called a halt. "Well now, old fellow, I'll tell you, if I had a little whisky I could talk a heap better to the doctor, you know, but I hain't got a cent of money to buy any."

"Oh, if that's all," says Ide, thinking a discharge from the army for a drink of whiskey a good enough bargain for him, "I've got money enough to buy the whisky, where'll we get it?"

"I know, follow me," replied John, and he led him to a place where liquor could be obtained on the sly, for it was against positive orders for the citizens to sell any thing of the sort to a soldier, and Louisville was then under martial law. Into this place they went, and John having received the magic elixir, which was to open his mouth, and loosen his tongue, was again ready to accompany his friend to the doctor. But it was quite a distance from camp to the Director's office, and before it was reached Ide had been obliged to replenish John's stomach with whisky more than once. But at last they arrived at the place.

"Now Ide you stay down here until I go up stairs, I won't be gone long and when I come back I'll have your discharge."

John was feeling good; the whisky that Ide had furnished him had made his faith in himself complete, so up the stairs he nimbly skipped, leaving his friend below on the sidewalk. The office door was reached, and with an invincible faith in himself, John opened it and walked in. There was the Medical Director of the Post at his desk, surrounded by his assistants, while on seats placed around the room, were soldiers who had come there for treatment. Up to the desk steps John.

"Doctor I want to obtain a discharge for—"

Looking up from his desk in surprise, the Doctor fixed his eyes on our friend.

"Who are you?" was the enquiry. "Take the position of a soldier sir," which John did, wishing he was some place else, for the stern, military manner of the doctor had somewhat unnerved him, "about face, forward march," and out of the office marched John. The doctor never gave the command to "halt," and amid the laughter of those who witnessed the scene, John took his departure. Down stairs he went to where Ide was waiting for him.

"Did you get it?" was the first question.

"No" came the reply, "the doctor ain't in, he has gone out of town." So back they came to camp, but John got no more whisky on the return trip, and the next day we left Louisville. The story leaked out some way, as all such stories do, and furnished many a laugh for us. Ide failed in getting his discharge, but made an excellent soldier afterwards, and came back safe and sound at the close of the war.

Chapter VI.

The sun arose on the morning of the Thirtieth of September, 1862, bright and clear, and as he climbed into the heavens the heat became intense. At an early hour the Regiment was astir, for we had received marching orders, the army was going to advance, and so, long before noon the bugle sounded the Assembly. The line was quickly formed and away we went our band playing its best music. But we had not gone far until the "Halt!" was sounded, and it was not until late in the day that we got clear of the streets of Louisville and out into the open country. It was a hard day on us, encumbered as we were with so much clothing, for each man was provided with two suits of underwear, and overcoat, and nothing is more tiresome than the perpetual halting, and advancing, halting and advancing, which we were compelled to do that day, owing to the crowded and jammed condition of the streets, filled as they were with regiments of infantry, cavalry, batteries of artillery, baggage, and supply trains, and all and singular that goes to make up the force of a large army about to take the field.

But at last we were clear of the town, and marching on the open country road, leaving, however, behind us, several of our comrades who had been overcome with the heat of the sun and the irksomeness of our movements, and had fallen in their places in the ranks and been carried off to the hospital for treatment. We did not go far until our track was lined with clothing, blankets and other property we had thrown away as being too cumbersome and hard to carry. We went into camp in a meadow, and as soon as the order was given to break ranks, many of us flung ourselves on the ground and never moved from our position until the bugle sounded the reveille in the morning.

Our soldier life had now fairly commenced, and we were on the march to that country in which many of our comrades were to find their last resting places. When the war commenced, Kentucky had declared neutrality, but we think our statement will be borne out by many, that the neutrality amounted to nothing. At any rate it was the opinion of us all, that for a neutral state, Kentucky held many bushwhackers, and guerillas, who, from behind trees and rocks, murdered our boys whenever opportunity offered. It was murder, not warfare. Kentucky neutrality was rebellion in ambush. But Kentucky also had loyal sons, and she gave to the Union several regiments of brave men. Kentucky had splendid roads, and as we advanced further into the country we were charmed with the scenery, and if it had not been for the terrible scarcity of water, we would have got on very well. Foraging of any kind was strictly forbidden, but the fruits of the land found their way into camp, all the same. Honey was plenty, fresh meat and also vegetables, and in spite of all orders, found their way into camp. There was one boy in our company who seemed to have, instinctively, a knowledge superior to any one else, as to where all such things could be obtained. Every night he would appear in camp ladened down with food that had never been issued from our regimental commissariat. He was liberal hearted, and distributed his good things with a lavish hand. But the marching became terrible at last. The hot sun beating on the "pike," and the air filled with the heated dust, no water, excepting such as could be obtained from ponds by the road side, stagnant, and covered with a green slime, and often with hogs wallowing in it. The springs and wells dried up, all combined to make our march irksome, and almost unbearable. Camp Diarrhoea made its appearance from which nearly all suffered more or less. Green persimmons, white oak bark, and all such simple astringents were used, but many became very weak and unable to march. The ambulances were full of sick soldiers, and so indeed were many wagons. Many poor fellows got discouraged, thoughts of home and loved ones filled their minds, and as the long days passed away and they lay in the ambulances, their minds kept wandering back, and nothing could arouse them to make endeavors to regain their health, so at last death came to many and relieved them of their sufferings. It was at such times as these, that the boys showed their hearty good will, that earnest endeavor to help those who could not help themselves, so characteristic of the western man, and many a trip was made by some kind hearted lad to houses far from the line of march, although he knew he was running the risk of losing his own life in the attempt, to procure a canteen of good water for a sick comrade, who was slowly but surely loosing his hold on life. The writer well remembers the feelings that the first death in his own company occasioned. One of our boys had grown so weak from the effects of the diarrhoea that he had been placed in one of the ambulances. For several days he rode thus, and every night when we reached camp some one of our number would go to the ambulance train to see if he needed anything, that we could do for him, but one night the messenger returned with the sad news, that, when the ambulance train went into camp, he was found dead inside. Yes, poor fellow, his warfare was over, and as we gathered to our camp fires the news was spread around, a pall of sorrow seemed to settle down upon us, and Co. "B" went to their blankets with saddened hearts. But sorrow, like everything else, is evanescent, and before the next night rolled around, the company had again assumed its usual every day life and jollity, not that the memory of our lost comrade had faded from our minds, but on every hand there was to be seen something new to us, something to excite enquiry, and we were finding now, every day, traces of war; fences torn down to enable cavalry to charge through, dead horses, and used up wagons by the road side, which had been abandoned by the enemy, and destroyed, by cutting the spokes out of the wheels, so as to be of no use to the "invader." These sights, and many others, quickly dispelled sorrow, and brought in its place a desire to meet the foe. We were at this time in the division over which General Phillip H. Sheridan had command.

Chapter VII.

Sheridan's name is one which will be forever linked with the history of our country. He was a brave officer, a dashing leader, but we used to think the possessor of the most abominable temper that ever man was blessed or cursed with, and whenever he would ride past with his staff, the weary legs of the men would straighten up, and for a while a new life would seem to inspire us. Whether it was that unknown power that causes some men to be more fitted for the duties of leading men, than others, or whether it was a fear that we might receive a broadside of his oaths, we do not know, but at any rate, during the short time he would ride by, things would assume a more soldierly appearance; a little more order. We remember one afternoon, when along with a comrade, we had managed in some way, to drift considerably to the rear. We were plodding along, however, chatting together, until we came to a sutler who had opened up his wagon of sutler's goods, and was doing a good business with the boys as they marched by. We went up and purchased some cheese and crackers, and placing them in our hats, proceeded to a little mound at the foot of a large tree, to eat them. There we sat munching our crackers and cheese, making remarks on the passers by, and occasionally enjoying a bit of chaff with some fellow, until we began to wonder how many men there could be coming, for by this time we had been there quite a while, and still the stream of humanity flowed by, still the same panorama of infantry, cavalry and artillery, passed before us, and we had come to the conclusion to stay there until they all went by, never once thinking of what a time we would have to catch up with our command. Just at this moment, when we had come to the conclusion to see the end of it, up rode General Sheridan with his staff and orderlies pressing on to the front. We were a little fearful he might see us, but we thought that in all that multitude of humanity and life, we surely were of but small moment, and would escape his eye. But we were doomed to disappointment, for suddenly this salutation, short and decidedly to the point, rang upon our ears: "You men of the 125th Ills., what in —— are you doing there. Move on;" and filling the air full of the hottest oaths aimed at our defenseless heads we incontinently gathered up our hats, with the remnants of our lunch and started for our regiment, which by this time was far in advance. But as we walked along, we were thinking how it was that Sheridan knew we were members of the 125th, was it by any peculiarity in our movements, or was it a part of his business, as general, to know the members of each regiment in his division. Our appreciation of his merits as a great commander were rising rapidly, and we had come to the conclusion that he must have a wonderful memory. So on we went wondering to each other how it was. Suddenly my companion stopped short. "Bob," says he, "I know how it was that old Sheridan knew us."

"How," we asked.

"Why, you old fool, he read it on our knapsacks."

True enough, that was the solution of the problem, for before leaving Louisville, the writer had procured a bottle of white paint, and a brush, and had painted in large letters on each fellow's knapsack, his name, company and regiment. This it was that had revealed to the general our proper place, we had forgotten all about it. We laughed heartily over the matter, and agreed to erase from our knapsacks the tell-tale letters as soon as we arrived in camp.

We were by this time getting well down into Kentucky, and every day we marched through villages and towns, which, but a few short weeks before, had been filled with sounds of life and business activity; but now everything was at a stand still; the store houses deserted, and their doors swinging idly on their hinges, revealing to the passer by naught but a collection of empty shelves and bare counters. The houses, even, were, for the most part, deserted of their occupants. War with its black and devastating influence, was abroad in the land. It was on a Sunday afternoon that we reached Bardstown, a place of considerable size, and as it seemed to us, a place where considerable business had been carried on, but now all was changed. We had been marching very slowly that day, halting every few moments and then advancing. Just as we entered Bardstown the bugle sounded the "Halt," and our line was directly in front of a large brick house, the doors of which were wide open, and coming and going through them were many officers, from the general down to lieutenant. We were tired and travel worn, so we proposed to our partner that we would go and see if some good water could be had. Leaving our place in the ranks we started for the house, and boldly marched in. Our aim was for the kitchen, and as we passed down the hall of the house we could not prevent ourself from looking through the doors of the parlors, as we judged them to be, for they were wide open, and there we saw the remains of what had been a grand feast. We dared not enter, but passed on down the hall, until a slight obstruction in the shape of a little second lieutenant came across our path, and the demand from him of what we were doing there. We replied we wanted water, but did not stop to listen to any remark he might have to make. Just as we reached the back door, a colored waiter boy, belonging to the house, came tearing in, bearing in his hands a pitcher of water going to the parlor. We collared this son of Ham, and demanded that he procure for us a canteen of whisky, with the promise that if he did we would pay him for it. His eyes rolled up in astonishment, and perhaps a little fear, for we were rather vigorous in our demand, and with a "Lor! bress you massa, dar hain't a drap of whisky in de house," he essayed to leave us, but we had a good hold on him, and were going to keep it. We knew he was lying to us, for we had caught a whiff of his breath, which gave him away entirely, as it was redolent of the fumes of "bourbon." He saw we were in earnest, and quickly whispering "come dis way sah," he opened a door in the hall and bid us enter, and wait until he returned. We entered what was, to all appearances, a bed-room, neatly fitted up with furniture, and in one corner a bed of huge dimensions, covered with the whitest and daintiest of counterpanes. It was the first bed we had seen for weeks, and regardless of our dusty clothes, and remembering only that we were tired, and in the enemies' land, we flung ourself, knapsack and all, upon its broad and ample surface. There we laid, resting our weary limbs and looking up at the ceiling, wondering how much longer it would be before our sable friend would appear. The moments kept slipping by, and at last, with a tremendous effort, we raised ourself from the bed intending to return to the regiment. We approached the door and essayed to open it, it was—locked. For a moment we were non-plussed; had we come this far from home to be captured by a "nigger" in this way? What a fool we had been to enter there, but directly other thoughts came into our minds, and we again threw ourself upon the bed with the intention that, if we were captured, we would get all the rest we could out of that bed before we were marched off by rebel guards. But imprisonment was not to be our fate at that time, for suddenly the door flew open, and in came our colored friend, bearing in his hand a large pitcher, which proved to contain, to the very top of it, as good whisky as we had ever drank. To empty the contents of the pitcher into our canteen, was but the work of a moment, and giving our friend a green-back dollar, at which he looked with surprise and earnestly enquired "Is dis good money, massa?" We assured him that it was, and hastened out to find the regiment. Luckily it had not moved from where we had left it, and we fell into place alongside of our partner, to whose thirsty lips my canteen was soon applied. The bugle sounded "forward," and we went, but as a truthful chronicler we are bound to state that under the exhilarating and inspiriting contents of my canteen, my partner soon became hilarious, and when we reached camp I was doing double duty, inasmuch as I was carrying his gun and my own also. It was not the length but the breadth of the road that troubled him. But no evil consequences resulted from it, and as it was winked at by the officers, no harm was done, and the next morning found him all right, and ready for the incidents of the day.

Chapter VIII.

The days passed by, and we, with the blissful ignorance of new soldiers, could not see the omens which filled the air, indicating that the battle was not far off; omens which the old soldier can so easily interpret, and which, as we became used to army life, were also easily interpreted by us. But the time was near when we should meet the foe, and as we plodded along one afternoon, tired and almost smothered with the dust, two staff officers came riding back from the direction of the front, and as they passed the writer caught the words, "throwing up breastworks on Chaplin Hills." Still at the time they made no impression on my mind, but before that time the next day, I recalled them and then understood what was meant. The dust was terrible, and about the middle of the afternoon a division of cavalry came riding by pressing on to the front. They rode in column of two's, and it seemed to us that they never would get by. The dust raised by their horses was fearful, and we were not in the best of humor, so as they rode along we very foolishly got angry at them, and curses flew at their heads in a pitiless storm. Some of the boys actually pricked the horses with their bayonets. But at length they passed us, and glad enough we were to get rid of them. We soon went into camp in an old corn-field, and between two corn rows the writer laid his tired body and was soon in the land of dreams. We never knew exactly what time it was when we felt a shake and heard a summons to wake up. The moon was shining brightly and quiet reigned all around us. But there was something in the wind more than common, as we could judge by the subdued voices in which commands were given, and when we were ordered to pile our knapsacks and leave a guard sufficient to protect them, it became apparent that there was business on hand which needed our attention. But we well remember what our first impressions were, when the order to pile knapsacks was given. We thought in our innocence that the commanding powers had taken pity on us, and were going to haul our knapsacks for us in the wagons, that they had concluded to save us the fatigue of carrying them ourselves; so laboring under this impression we silently fell into line and marched away in the moonlight back to the pike from which we had moved the night before. We well remember as we silently marched along that our file leader, a comrade by the name of Ross, had swinging to him the half of an old knapsack filled with honey. We intimated to him that we were particularly fond of honey, and if he had no objection we would like to help him eat what he had, but Ross was not in a honied humor that morning and our request was denied. I never knew what he did with it, but am strongly inclined to the belief that comrade Ross found other matters too weighty to attend to that morning besides eating honey, and that he cast it from him. We were now on the pike, when the order to "halt!" was given. There was an old barn on the side of the pike, and behind it the head of the regiment had stopped. "Front Face," "Right Dress," "Load and Cap," were the orders in quick succession, and then the colonel riding down the line informed us that the hour for battle had arrived, and he hoped every man in the 125th would do his duty. We had come out to fight, that was what we were there for, that was our business, but we will confess for ourself our heart beat a trifle faster, and our gun had a colder touch than common, or at least it seemed so. But history was to be made that day, and as it was proven latter in the day, the 125th were willing to make their part of it. And now the day commenced to break, and presently "bang," "bang," went the guns, not by volley, but ever and anon, a desultory shot from the direction of our skirmish line, showing that our skirmishers had run against some obstacle which bore the resemblance of a man. The daylight grows brighter, and the guns crack oftener; occasionally a volley is heard, and our brigade commander, Col. Dan McCook, comes tearing down the pike on his war horse, and orders our colonel to march the regiment to the top of a hill to our left; away we went, and arriving there found our battery "I" of the 2nd Ills. artillery in position. We were to support it from any and all attacks of the rebels. There we stood in line as if on dress parade, but directly bullets came whizzing over us, with now and then a shell. Dodging was the order of the day, and heads were ducking in all directions; still we stood, until Col. McCook came riding up, and calling to our colonel told him to order us to lie down. We quickly responded to the command, but not before some of our number had been hit. And now our battery, tired of being set up as a mark, began to return the compliments of our rebel friends, and the air was filled with the sharp reports of the guns and the explosion of shells, while as a sort of an accompaniment to the noise the ping of the bullet was heard all around us. The battle had indeed opened. We lay in this position nearly all the forenoon, when at last there came an order for the right wing of the regiment to move across the pike into some woods. This we did, and took position in the rear of the 73rd Ills. to relieve them when their ammunition should give out, and which to judge by the way they were shooting would not be long. So there we lay expecting every moment to go into action, but as the time passed away and the 73rd slackened its firing somewhat, we became used to our position, and the crash of lead and iron ceased to inspire us with the blood curdling sensation which we had experienced at the commencement of the battle. A few only of our boys got hit as we lay there, but the tops of the trees suffered considerably by the solid shot, shells, and grape and canister that the rebel-guns hurled at us, and we were quite willing they should be the victims instead of us.

* * * * *

Battle is always a serious affair, and there never was, nor ever will be a battle fought without its bringing sorrow and grief to many homes, but it also has its ludicrous aspects, and I will relate one that happened here. As we have said before, the 73rd Ills. was directly in front of us, and when the firing was at its height, forth from its ranks came a man in the wildest manner, headlong over us fellows who were laying on the ground, shouting at the top of his voice: "Where's the doctor? Where's the doctor? I'm shot in the head! I'm killed! I'm killed!" and away he went as fast as he could go. We looked after him in surprise, thinking he was the liveliest corpse we had ever seen. That night after the battle was over, we again saw this man, recognizing him by the peculiar color of his hat.

"Hello!" we exclaimed, going up to him, "we thought you was dead."

"No, sir," was the emphatic reply, "but they gave me a close call," and taking off his hat he showed us where a rifle ball had raised a welt clear across the top of his head, from front to rear. The result was that it partially crazed him for the moment, and he was not responsible for his actions. But here at Perrysville on the eight of October, 1862, was where the regiment received its "baptism of fire," and here it was that on that October afternoon it received its first order to "charge bayonets," and to the glory and honor of the regiment be it said, not a man refused to obey the command. Perhaps the reader may say: "I can not see much glory in that, they were ordered to do so, and they were there to obey orders." True enough, we reply, but when we take into consideration the shortness of the time since the regiment had left home without drill or discipline, and how it was forced right into the field, we do think, and say, that the record of that bayonet charge, bloodless though it was, was a glorious one. No odds if we did not meet any enemy in our front, we did not know but we would, and so the absence of the enemy does not in the least detract from the honor of the regiment. We did not charge very far before we were ordered to "halt and lie down." The rebels were in full retreat. Why it was that we were not allowed to follow up our victory and capture or destroy the enemy, was and always has been a mystery to us. The turnpike in our rear was filled with troops, who were laying there with their guns stacked, and never during the day did they move from that position. Not only infantry, but cavalry and artillery; yet we stood and saw the foe quietly march away, leaving in our hands the field of battle, and their wounded and dead to care for.

Chapter IX.

The battle of Perrysville was always a mystery to us, and never, although we have searched for its solution in many histories of the war, have we been able to find an answer to our question, why it was that Buell allowed Bragg to get away when he had in his hands the power to crush him there and then. But with this we have nothing to do at this time, we are trying to write the record of one, only, of the regiments that helped to form the army there engaged that day. Suffice it to say the battle ended at night fall. We had nothing to eat since the night before, for the reason that our supply train could not come to us, and after the fight was over, and the over-strung nerves began to relax, hunger took possession of us, and all set about the hunt for food. The writer came across some boys who were carrying an immense piece of beef which they had obtained somewhere or other, and with true soldierly kindness they donated him a very considerable portion of it. Returning to the command we divided with our partner, and fastening our share to a sharpened stick thrust it into a fire which was burning near by. We were hungry, and although we had no salt or seasoning of any kind for our beef, we ate it with a relish. Our scant supper being finished, we sauntered off to glean from those we might meet, an account of the battle as they had seen it. The serious part of it was over, for that time, and now the more comical side came up. To hear each one relate his feelings during the time we lay there under that rain of lead and iron, to hear the jokes that passed from one to the other, and to hear how the woods echoed with the shouts and laughter of our boys, feeling in their own minds that they had done their duty, was very diverting. But amid all this general rejoicing at the discomfiture of our enemy, there was still a voice of pity for the wounded, and of sorrow for the many brave lads who had that day laid their young lives upon their country's altar. Tired at last of wandering around, we spread our blankets at the foot of a tree, and with the light of the full moon shining on us we lay down to rest. Our mind was filled with many thoughts, but before we knew it we were fast asleep. How long we slept we did not know, but we were suddenly awakened by a noise, and on rising up could see by the light of the moon that our supply train had come up, and that Sergeant Cole, who had command of it, was unloading the wagons on the ground. Giving our partner a punch, we told him it was time for breakfast, so up we got and made for the nearest pile of hardtack. We filled our haversacks, and taking a goodly number in our hands, beat a retreat to our blankets. Lying on the ground we munched our biscuits, and felt thankful that we were still alive. No other disturbance troubled us that night, and we awoke at reveille in the morning, refreshed, and ready for the duties of the day. Fires were made, and the air was soon filled with the aroma of coffee, and the smell of breakfast which we were engaged in cooking. Our cooking utensils were not many or of very stylish pattern, but they answered the purpose, after a fashion, and that was all we cared for. When in camp regular details were made, and every company would have its appointed cooks, whose duty it was to have the meals ready for the men at regular hours. These cooks were relieved from all other duty, and consequently had nothing to do but attend to this particular, and very necessary branch of the business. In the field it was quite different, and there every fellow had to look out for himself.

But here comes an orderly with dispatches. What's up? Going to headquarters we ascertain that it is a requisition on our regiment for a burial party, to bury the dead who had fallen the day before. Luckily, as we thought, we were not called on, so finishing our breakfast we started, in company with several of our comrades, to walk over the battle field. There have been, of course, larger battles fought, involving more loss of blood than was shed at Perrysville that day, but for all that, it had been a stubborn fight, and the ground was covered with the bodies of the slain. The blue and the gray promiscuously, lay around us. Here had been a party of the enemy engaged during the lull in the storm of battle in a friendly game of cards; a shell had exploded in their midst, and left them laying there dead with the cards still in their hands. Here lay a man with the top of his head shot off; yonder was one whose death must have been instantaneous, for his features were not distorted as if with pain, and he looked as if he was quietly sleeping. But we must not stop too long in our description. Death had reaped a mighty harvest there, and had put out forever the light, the life, the hope, of many a hearthstone. Passing along we arrived at a large stone house which had been converted by the rebels into a hospital, and when the army retreated of course it and its contents, fell into our possession. We entered the small gate, and made our way up to the front door and walked in. There, stretched upon the bare floor, in rows, lay the rebel wounded, and among the number several whose lives had just gone out. Men were here who were suffering from all manner of wounds; and groans and shrieks rent the air. One poor wretch, who sat with his back against the wall, had had his tongue shot off by a rifle ball, and was slowly dying of strangulation. The sight was too much for us, and sick at heart we hastily left the house. The yard was also filled with wounded men, but the character of their wounds was much slighter than those in the house. The rebel surgeons were passing around among them, and seemed to be doing all in their power for the helpless men about them. There seemed to be no ill will or malice shown by any one, but still our boys, of whom quite a number had assembled there, although perfectly willing to help, and aid those who could not help themselves, did not like to see too many airs put on, nor too much "big me, and little you," displayed by those who were not injured. One fellow was strutting around with an overcoat on which he had procured in some way, how I do not know, from one of our boys, when Captain Levin Vinson, of Co. "I," with some of his men came up; they, like our squad, were looking over the field, and had just arrived at this house of which we have been writing. The sight of this rebel, marching around with one of our overcoats on, was too much for private Joe Dysart, of the captain's squad. Stepping up to the fellow he ordered him to take off that coat; the rebel objected; down came Dysart's gun. "Are you going to take off that coat, Johnny?" he enquired. The rebel saw that Joe meant business, and without more ado yielded up the garment. Joe was in earnest, and would have made it an expensive coat for the rebel, if he had acted in any way that seemed to Joe outrageous.

Remember, reader, this was our first battle, and horrible though a battle field is at all times after the struggle, still in after days we did not think so much of any little irregularity that might be apparent in the matter of uniform. But private Dysart could not at this time look with any feelings but those of wrath at the impudence of a rebel wearing a coat of the same color as his own, and he was right.

Still we remained in camp, two days passed, but finally at the close of the second day, we received orders to march. As is always the custom after heavy cannonading, rain commenced to fall, and the night set in dark and stormy. Why it was that our departure from the battle field of Perrysville was delayed for two days, and then the march to commence in the night, is more than we can explain, but probably it was not thought by our commanding general, that Bragg would be able to move his army, and transportation trains away in safety, if we had started sooner. The march was not a hurried one, so we leisurely jogged along until Crab Orchard was reached.

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Chapter X.

That was the last we saw of Bragg's army for many a day. He had left Kentucky with what was left of his 60,000 followers who were with him when he entered the state, in disgust perhaps at the non-military manner in which our army was manœuvred, or perhaps in order to more easily obtain supplies; at any rate he was "gone from our gaze like a beautiful dream," and we went into camp at Crab Orchard. At this place the character of the country suddenly changes. It becomes rough and barren, affording scarcely enough corn for its spare population; and the road passes through defiles where a small force can resist, with great effect, a large one, where in fact the use of a large force is impracticable. The little forage there was in the country had been consumed by the enemy in his retreat, rendering it impossible to subsist any considerable number of animals. Here it was the measles broke out in the regiment, and we were in the worst possible condition for such a guest, a simple thing to manage when the surroundings are favorable, but a dreadful distemper in the condition we were at that time. The weather was chilly and cool, and the wind would blow all day long. It was a sad sight to see the boys who were afflicted with the disease, stretched out on the bare ground, with nothing over them but a blanket. We were thankful it did not rain, if it had the mortality would have been far greater than it was, many died however, and there were very few who were able for duty. We remember assembling for dress parade one evening, but as our number was so small, the colonel ordered us back to our quarters. We had had no tents issued to us yet, and the most of us had thrown away our overcoats, being unable to carry them. But now we felt the need of them, as the nights were cold, and none of us had more than one blanket apiece. There was grumbling and swearing, but at last some fellow solved the problem and restored us all to good humor. No one ever knew how "camp rumors" ever started, but start they would, and the better they suited our frame of mind, the faster they flew. So one morning the word went round "that the war was over, and we were all going to be discharged and sent home right away, this was the reason why new overcoats were not issued to us." This was the report and was swallowed as gospel truth. When we were ordered to pile our knapsacks, the morning of the battle of Perrysville, of course we complied with it, and when they were brought up to us again there was much of their contents missing; blankets were gone, had disappeared in some way, and all that many of us received was our empty knapsacks, they were not in so great demand, as they could not be utilized for any other purpose than that for which they had been intended, so every fellow got his knapsack but minus its contents, the writer got his, but the blanket which it had contained was gone, and we thought we would have much preferred keeping it than to have lost a dozen knapsacks. However we did not waste many tears over it but took the first opportunity to make the loss good by putting some other fellow to a like inconvenience. One morning while at Crab Orchard as we were passing around the company quarters trying to cheer up those who were sick, by sympathy and encouragement, we were hailed by a comrade to come and help him dust and fold his blankets. We went, of course, and when stooping over to gather up the corner of his blanket, lo and behold there was our private mark, which we had made by slitting the corner in three pieces. "Hello, Mac," we said, raising up, "where did you get this blanket?"

"Why, drew it from the quartermaster of course. Where did you suppose I got it?"—this with the blandest and most child-like air.

"Drew it from the quartermaster," we replied. "Yes I know how you drew it, you drew it from my knapsack at Perrysville, you rascal, that's how you drew it."

"What in thunder are you talking about," said Mack, "here help me shake it, and don't go to insinuating that I stole your old blanket."

But we knew the property was ours, and intended to hold on to it, not that we particularly needed it, for we had obtained another one, but we did not propose to be robbed, as we thought we were being, in that way. This was our blanket, there was the mark, and we were going to have it. Mack was getting riled a little.

"Are you going to help me shake that blanket?" he asked.

We replied "no," that we were going to keep that blanket ourself. We were in earnest and he saw it.

"I'd like to know what makes you think that its yours?" he said, in the most innocent manner.

We held up the corner to him. "Do you see that; that's our mark."

Mac's countenance fell, he had never noticed that before, and never another word did he say. He stooped over to pick up another one, for he was, or had been until I came to him by his invitation, the fortunate possessor of two. We were not mad nor out of humor the least bit, for as the saying is: "we had been there ourself," but we requested Mac to tell us where he got it. Seeing that we had doubled up the blanket and held it under our arm, and was not the least bit inclined to give it up, he said:

"Well, now, if you won't tell anybody, I'll tell you how I got it. I was coming along the other night past Doc. McElroy's quarters, and I was on the lookout for a blanket. I came right by where the doctor's darkey had made down his bed for him, so I just reached down, and gathered onto that blanket and scooted; hold on, I'll tell you the rest of it," he said, as he recovered from the fit of laughter into which the recollection of his theft had thrown him. "I made down my bed pretty close to the doctor's, to see what he would say to the darkey when he came. I did not have to wait long; here came the doctor. 'Boy, got my bed made yet?' 'Oh yes, doctor, all right sah, made you good bed to-night, doctor,' the darkey replied, and soon the doctor proceeded to test the assurance. There was the bed, sure enough, but when the doctor got down on his knees, and went to turn, as he supposed, the top blanket down, nothing was revealed to his astonished gaze but the bare ground. Then, said Mac, the trouble commenced. Calling the darkey he asked him if that was what he called a good bed, where's my other blanket? he yelled, and the air was blue with oaths.

"Deed, doctor, I lef him dar not more'n ten minutes ago, shuah, but he done gone now, das a fac," and the darkey gave a groan. "I spec's some of de sogers mus have stole him, doctor." And then Mac said he heard more oaths, and a noise as if some one was in distress, and then a sudden cracking of the bushes as of some one running, and he heard the doctor yell out: "Leave here, you lazy rascal, you'd loose your head if it was not fast to you," and gathering his only blanket, he saw him making off with it with the intention, as Mac supposed, of bunking with some body else who was blessed with more cover than himself.

Oh! said Mac, I thought I would die laughing. I could not hear all that was said for I was laying on my back almost ready to burst. I never laughed so in all my life, and as laughing is contagious, we were soon laughing with him at the remembrance of his stealing the doctor's blanket. But such was life in the army. Whenever we were in camp we could obtain from the quartermaster anything we needed in the shape of clothing or blankets, but on the march it was different, and if a fellow lost anything he generally managed in some way to make himself whole, by appropriating some other chap's property. But this was only done in case of necessity, there was too much sterling integrity and manhood in the regiment to allow of stealing maliciously and wantonly. The quiet appropriating from some other mess of a blanket, canteen, mess-pan or camp kettle, by a fellow who had lost his own, was thought nothing of, provided the purloiner was not caught by the real owner. In that case restitution was demanded, and if he could prove his case, the property would be restored.

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Chapter XI.

Well, Bragg had left us, and we were all alone. So one fine morning the bugle sounded the call to fall in to ranks, and we marched out of camp, back on the road we had come. But not with the same feelings, we were getting tired of this interminable marching, as it seemed to us for no purpose, for the private soldier is generally in blissful ignorance of the movements to be made on the board. Then again many of our comrades were not with us, and we missed their faces and their forms. Sickness had thinned our ranks, death had removed many, and the question rang out, "When are we going to stop?" but the days passed away slowly; the march, march, march, the scarcity of water, and the dust, and our clothing was now beginning to show the marks of hard usage. But we buckled to it and put on as good a face as possible. There was always some fellow who said something whenever he opened his mouth, which would provoke laughter at the most trying time, and the one who could get up a laugh was the hero of the moment, until some one else would say something that beat him, and then he would assume that honor. Once in a while the drum and fife would start up, and that would infuse new life into us, and we would rattle off the miles at a good pace while it lasted; we used to wish they would play all the time, but the fifer's lungs were not made of leather, and the drummer's arms would get tired; so, as the music ceased, we would soon drop back into the old step again. Many a time we thought, and exclaimed like Richard "a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse." Then some fellow would yell out: "you couldn't ride him if you had one, you don't know how," or would make the enquiry if a good mule would not answer as well. And so we passed the time away until one afternoon, tired and thirsty, we found ourselves marching by the side of Green River. The road was at quite an elevation from the water, and as we marched along and looked down upon its green, cool looking surface, choked with dust as we were, we thought it the most beautiful sheet of water that we had ever seen, and would only have been too glad to have plunged into it and drank our fill. But we were nearing Bowling Green, and shortly went into camp. Bowling Green still contained evidences that an army had occupied it recently, for on all sides of us we could see the earth works which had been thrown up by the rebel army, under the command of General Sydney Johnston, before they evacuated the place, after the fall of Fort Donelson.

On the 30th of October, Buell relinquished the command of our army, and turned it over to Major General Rosecrans. Buell had failed to cut off and compel the surrender of Bragg, and was sharply censured for his want of activity in following up the enemy. We were glad to hear of his removal, for we were not much inspired with faith in the generalship of Buell; and the fact was, the escape of Bragg, when it was so evident to the most ignorant soldier that he could have been destroyed, had cast a feeling of depression over us, but now we hoped for better things. We were now about 113 miles from Louisville. Here we received supplies, clothing and ammunition, and one fine morning broke camp for Nashville, Tenn. Here at Bowling Green we had issued to us, for the first time, the regular regulation army hat. It was a decidedly high toned affair, and about as convenient an article for a soldier in the field as the regular out and out "stove pipe" hat would have been. They had enormous tops to them, and a very moderate sized brim and to see a little man don one of these head pieces, and start off with it, was ludicrous. The day after receiving them we were ordered to march, and the journey that day was enlivened by jokes and witty sayings about those new hats. A little fellow would be plodding along when some fellow would yell out: "Say, Sam, get out of that hat, I know you're there for I see your legs." This, and many other like it, were passed around, and received with roars of laughter. But we managed, by denting in the top, to reduce their towering height somewhat, and consequently us short fellows were not noticed so much afterwards. But those hats caused many a hearty laugh. There ought to have been, according to the regulations, a brass front piece to them, and a feather, but these we never got, and it was so much the better, for it was all we could do, that is, some of us, to manage them as it was. Here at Bowling Green, also, our transportation was cut down. Heretofore we had been allowed one wagon and team to a company, now only one wagon and team was allowed to a regiment, besides the quartermaster's teams, and the consequence was that company officers found themselves in a quandary. There had been many of our number left behind us, and their arms and accoutrements they had turned over to their company officers, who were responsible to the government for them. The officers had thrown them into the company wagons, and had brought them along in that way. Now, however, what were they to do with them? There was a mighty flying around to the colonel's headquarters for instructions, and he ordered them to have the arms taken to the quartermaster, and for him to see to it that they were carried forward. They did so, only too glad to be rid of them, and quartermaster Ayres found himself in possession of a most abundant supply of warlike implements for as peaceful a man as he was. How he managed to get them along we do not know; but Ayres was a man equal to any emergency, and brought them in triumph to Nashville.

We were all getting in much better spirits, the weather was cooler and the health of the regiment had improved somewhat. Water was still scarce though, and the roads very dusty. But we had a new general in the person of Rosecrans, or "old Rosy," as we used to call him, and confidence in our new leader inspired our hearts. His past record had been a good one and at any rate we did not have any fear of his loyalty as we had had of Buell's after the battle of Perryville.

One afternoon as we were marching along a fellow came marching by us going to the front, who was crying and swearing in dutch at a fearful rate. We thought at first that he was crazy, but we soon got to talking with him and wanted to know what was the matter. He was a heavy, stout looking man, and belonged to the Second Missouri, who were ahead of us, but in the same division. The tears were streaming down his cheeks, and as we inquired what was the matter, he broke out between his sobs: "Dem tam rebels, dey kill mine brudder at Perryville, tam em! Tam em! Tam em!" This was all we could get out of him in regard to it. But it seems he had remained behind in spite of everything, to see that his dearly loved brother received christian burial at least, and was just catching up with his regiment. We felt very sorry for him, but still, although sympathizing with him in his sorrow, we could not but smile at his actions. He was terribly wrought up, and his tears had formed, with the dust of the road which had settled on his face, a mixture, which, as he wiped his eyes with his hand, had been smeared all over his countenance, and with his loud sobs and his broken English not spoken in soft accents, but bawled out as loud as he could bawl, and his oaths and curses at the rebels who had killed his "brudder," he made altogether a curious looking specimen of the "greenhorn." He was very, very mad about it, and he would, in his present state of mind, have been willing to fight the whole southern confederacy, if opportunity had offered, single handed. He passed on and left us. What became of him I do not know, whether on some other bloody field his spirit went to join the loved brother, who had gone before, or whether he lived to get home in safety, I never could ascertain. But such was army life, we would laugh and joke at the most trivial, and very often at the most solemn things. We would remember a good joke on any body for days, but a solemn, serious matter would soon pass out of our minds.

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Chapter XII.

At last, on the eight of November, 1862, we reached Edgefield, on the Cumberland River directly opposite Nashville, a distance of one hundred and eighty three miles from Louisville, and went into camp. On the afternoon of our arrival, after camp had been established, the writer went over to a house near by, where there was, what had been the summer before, a vegetable garden. There were several of us in there, digging around with sticks to get a few onions that had been left in the ground. We were all busily engaged, when we heard a voice ring out "what in —— are you fellows doing in there? —— —— ye, get out of there and go to your quarters." We raised up, and saw a man of medium size approach one of the boys who was busily engaged in digging for onions, and hit him on the back, shouting at the same time: "Get out of here." The man had on a long military overcoat, all buttoned up, and it was impossible to tell who he was by his clothing. The boy whom he had struck quickly raised up, and with a well directed blow of his fist, knocked the unknown gentleman sprawling; he went one way, and his cap another. Gathering himself up, he shouted: "What do you mean, you rascal; I am General Sheridan." That was all he needed to say; his opponent was gone in a flash, and Sheridan after him, shouting out: "Stop that man! stop that man!" but the General's legs were not equal to the race, and the boy succeeded in getting to the camp, where, of course, it was impossible to find him. The rest of us slipped away as quietly and quickly as possible to our quarters, carrying with us the results of our search. But we laughed and laughed at the remembrance of it; who the boy was, that had so wilfully violated one of the sternest of army laws, that of striking his superior officer, we never found out, but we think he belonged to the 52nd Ohio, which regiment, as we have before stated, was brigaded with us. We would like to have been at Sheridan's headquarters, and heard his account of the affair, but perhaps he never told it, although knowing him as we did, we were firm in the belief that he must have done up a terrible amount of hard swearing at such an insult to his dignity, but he had only himself to blame for it. If we could have seen who it was, distinctly, he never would have got close enough to have struck any one, for we would have fled at the sight of him.

Before we reached Nashville we had received reports of how hard run the citizens of the place were for groceries, more especially coffee, and had heard remarkable stories of the prices paid for such articles. So we had been saving of our rations, thinking, perhaps, that when we arrived at Nashville, we could realize something for them. We had grown tired of hardtack, and visions of warm bread, butter, etc., floated through our minds. So to saving we went; but as a true chronicler, we must state that some of the boys did not show that true honesty which ought to pervade all business transactions, but had been boiling their coffee without grinding it, and afterwards drying it, and storing it away in their haversacks, blankets, or any way they could, so when we finally reached Nashville, there was a considerable quantity of this article in the regiment. The next day after our arrival, the writer and his partner, obtained a pass to go to the city. Tying up our coffee, which, by the way, made a considerable package, we started on our trip. We arrived in the city without any trouble, and as we were walking up a street, was accosted by a woman who wished to know if we had any coffee for sale. We instantly showed our stock, and informed her that she could have it at the rate of one dollar per pound. This seemed in our eyes an outrageous price, but she closed with our terms, and after weighing it in a store near by, paid us for it in good greenbacks. We do not remember, at this late day, how much it was we received, but we pocketed it, all the same, and started out to find a place where we could obtain a square meal. This was a difficult task, for most all the stores and restaurants were closed, but at last we managed to find a little store open, and in we went. We enquired for something to eat; the proprietor informed us, a fact which we could plainly see for ourselves, that his stock had run down somewhat, owing to the difficulties of obtaining a new supply, and the best he could do for us, he said, was to offer us some tripe, which he had in a jar. We were no way squeamish, and told him to bring on his tripe. He had but a small supply, but when we got through he had none. After the army fair of "hardtack and sow-belly," tripe seemed to us to have a royal taste. We paid him for his property and departed to look up some new field of adventure. Sauntering along the streets we came to a building in front of which we saw a good many of our boys, some going away with light bread in their arms, and others hurrying up to obtain some. We hastened our steps, and ascertained that light bread could be bought there for five cents a loaf. We immediately invested, and obtained as much as we could carry on our arms, piled up like stove wood. We were now ready to return to camp, so away we went. On the road back we met a number of our fellows coming along, and every one wanted light bread.

"What'll you take for a loaf?" was the enquiry.

"Ten cents a loaf," was the reply. The consequence was that we did not go far until our bread was all gone at double the price we had paid for it. We then concluded to go back and get some for ourselves, but here was where we missed it, for on our again apply-for bread, we were told it was all gone, and no more could be had. We had contemplated having a good supper out of that light bread, which was of good quality, but we had foolishly let our desire for speculation run away with our supper. There was nothing left for us to do but return to camp without any, so away we went, cheering ourselves with the thought that if we had no bread, we had some money, which, as we had never yet been paid off by the Government, was something to be glad of.

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Chapter XIII.

The Saturday after our arrival at Edgefield the regiment received orders to prepare for inspection the next day, Sunday. So at it we went, cleaning up our guns and making their barrels shine like silver. This was done by laying the gun barrel in a strap in a bed of ashes and pulling the strap up and down, rolling the barrel with the foot. After a short application of this kind, the barrel would be thoroughly cleaned, the friction with the ashes having removed every particle of rust and dirt. Our brass breast plates and belt plates were also scoured up, and we endeavored by every means in our power to clean up thoroughly, and we succeeded, as we thought, splendidly. This was our first regular inspection, and we were anxious that the inspecting officer should make a good report on our appearance. So we worked busily all day, and at last felt confident that we would get a good report out of him. Sunday morning came, bright and beautiful, and at the hour specified the bugle sounded the assembly. We formed in line by companies and moved out to the color line, where we took our places. "Attention, battalion," came the order from the adjutant, "by companies, right wheel, march!" "Rear rank, open order, march," and there we were ready for inspection. The inspecting officer, who seemed to be very much of a dandy, with long gauntlets of white leather on his arms, and everything about him looking as if he had just come out of a band-box, in company with our colonel, commenced going down the lines. The appearance of the men was good, the condition of the arms, considering the kind they were and the long march we had just closed, were pronounced satisfactory. But when he went behind us, and commenced examining our cartridge boxes, Oh! that he had only kept his prying fingers and inquisitive eyes off of them. In order that the reader may understand the reason why, we must go back a little. When we went into the fight at Perrysville, each man had forty rounds of ball cartridges issued to him, with which to fill his cartridge box, and strict orders were given not to waste or destroy them. But the battle was fought, Bragg retreated, we went to Crab Orchard, and then turned back for Nashville. No enemy was near us, as far as we knew, and as we were tired of carrying the cartridges, we very quietly threw the most of them away, and in their place had put our razor, shaving soap, tobacco, or any other little article that we could stuff in, so that when our cartridge boxes were opened by the inspecting officer on that bright Sabbath morning, his astonished gaze, instead of resting on villainous lead and powder, done up in paper, found in their place the implements of the dressing-room and toilet table. It was too bad, we never thought he would look in the boxes, so we had let them remain in _statu quo_. As he passed down the lines of the companies his astonishment increased. The colonel was heartily ashamed of us, and to tell the truth we were a little ashamed of ourselves. But the "cat was out of the bag," or more properly speaking, the cartridges were out of the boxes, and as a matter of course the good report which we had desired was gone. In truth the regiment was in a deplorable condition for ammunition.

At dress parade, that evening, our colonel reprimanded us severely for our gross neglect of orders, and we felt as if we deserved it. A fresh supply was issued to us the next day, and the boxes filled up.

The center of the rebel army at this time was at Murfreesboro, and the principal part of their army was massed there, thirty-two miles from Nashville. We had now been in camp since the eighth of November; no movement of any importance had been made. We had broken camp, however, at Edgefield, once during this time, and marched with our division to Mill Creek, five miles south of Nashville, and had again gone into camp. While here we were placed in the division commanded by General Robert Mitchell, and on the twenty-sixth of December, when the army moved forward to meet the enemy at Stone River, our division was ordered back to garrison the city of Nashville. We arrived inside of the fortifications of the city just at nightfall and went into camp temporarily. We had now been four months from home, had had one battle and a weary march, so we were noways displeased with the order, and we concluded that at last we would now get some of the pleasures of a soldier's life, if there were any. The next few days were passed in selecting proper camps for us.

Nashville at this time was a very important post of the Union Army, and here were stored immense quantities of supplies, food forage and ammunition, while our direct line of communication, north, was over the line of the Louisville and Nashville rail road, with John Morgan on hand to sever that line whenever opportunity offered. We found the city somewhat recovered from the panic into which it had been thrown, on the receipt of the news of the fall of Fort Donelson at the mouth of the Cumberland, the river on which Nashville is situated, and perhaps it would be interesting to insert here a description, by a resident, of the panic which the receipt of the news of the fall of Fort Donelson caused, showing the terrible destruction of property, and the ravages of the retreating rebel army.

"Just as church services were about to commence, there appeared at the door a messenger, who instantly sent the sexton up to the pulpit with a notice that: 'Fort Donelson had surrendered at five o'clock this morning; the gun boats were coming up; Buell's army is at Springfield, only 25 miles north of the city, and each man must take care of himself.' Then followed a rush and a tumult, the like of which that city had never seen before. Such hurrying to and fro of carriages, buggies, omnibuses and baggage wagons, with great loads of trunks and valises, making their way to the depots of the rail roads leading to the southward. The Governor, Isham G. Harris, had fled on a mule, and the legislators followed him as rapidly as possible the same day. Regiments of rebel soldiers were coming in from Bowling Green, stealing and plundering on their line of march, from friend and foe. The cattle of the farmers were shot down in mere wantonness, and fences burned. Nashville was the chief depot for the provisions and army stores for the whole rebel dominion in the west, and had the same importance to the department there, as Richmond in the east. Of these stores there were millions of dollars in value that could not be moved in time. Word was given out for the inhabitants to come and help themselves, which they did with a will. In the armory were deposited some five to seven thousand rifles. Two thousand of the best were brought out by order of General Floyd, and burned. All these had been impressed from the people in the state, forcibly or otherwise, as they could be found in the owner's houses. Two elegant steam boats, formerly in the Nashville and New Orleans trade, purchased by the Jeff Davis government at a cost of $35,000 each, and in process of being converted into gun boats, were burned. The rail road bridge that cost 50,000, and the wire suspension bridge, costing $150,000, both beautiful structures, were also burned. The mayor, with a committee of leading citizens, waited upon Floyd, and earnestly remonstrated against the destruction of the bridges, but without success. Another fine steamer, private property, was burned by the Texas Rangers. Five or six other steam boats that were lying in port, the owners had very prudently moved over to the north side of the river, and had thus escaped the torch of the rebels. From the morning of the 16th to the 24th of February, anarchy and rioting prevailed. Fierce and awful were the curses heaped upon Johnston, Floyd and Pillow, by the retreating soldiery. Some of them swore they were going home if it cost them their lives. Five thousand lives they said had been sacrificed by Johnston at Bowling Green, from exposure, bad fare and hard work, to which not many of them had ever been accustomed."

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Chapter XIV.

Our regiment was finally placed in camp on top of some high hills in the western part of the city, behind fortifications of cotton bales. It brought to our mind what we had read about Jackson at New Orleans. On the top of these hills, commanding an extensive view of the surrounding country, we pitched our tents. We had issued to us the style of tent called the "Sibley;" patterned after the wigwams of the Indians, conical shape, with a large hole in the top to permit the escape of smoke. The tent pole consisted of a wooden staff four or five feet long, which rested, at its base, on an iron tripod of about three feet in height. Between the legs of this tripod we made our fires, fuel being provided by the quartermaster's department. At night when we had spread down our blankets inside of the tents, which were intended to accommodate twenty-five men each, we lay with our heads to the outside of the circle, and our feet pointing to the fire. It was pretty close packing, but we were good natured for the most part, and so we got along very well, although, occasionally, some fellow would make a fuss, but it was soon stopped by everybody else yelling at him to keep still, and yielding to public opinion so emphatically expressed, the disturber of the peace would smother his injuries, fancied or real, in his own breast, and sleep would soon settle down upon our household.

While in camp on these hills, some of the friends of boys of our company, came to visit them. Solomon Starr, John Huffman, uncle Archie Gryder and several others. We were all glad to see them, and in fact it made no particular difference who they had come to visit, we were all glad to see them, for we were nearly all acquainted with them; at any rate they had come from what we called "God's country," and they were heartily welcomed. They said they wanted to see how "soldiering went," so we fed them well on what we had, not forgetting to supply them liberally with that delicious dish which some one had named "s— of a b—;" where in the world he ever got the name from we never could find out, or why it should have been thus named, for it certainly bore not the slightest resemblance to any member of the canine race. This beautiful dish, in order that all may know how it was prepared, was made as follows: hardtack broken up into small pieces, and then fried or boiled in grease and water until it has swelled, and become as tough almost as india-rubber. This is what we regaled our guests with, and they accepted it with credulity. At night we would scatter them around in the different tents, as it was impossible to keep them all in one without putting us to great inconvenience. So one night there came up a heavy storm of wind and rain, and the water flowed through the tents, soaking our blankets and everything else. Our guests left us in the morning, expressing themselves as being fully satisfied with their experience. "Soldiering was not so very hard," they said, "but then, at times, was inconvenient, and indeed they _must_ hurry home, they had not intended to have staid nearly so long as they had, etc., etc." At this late day, whenever you meet one of them, and ask him if he remembers the night he passed in camp with us at Nashville, he will tell you with a groan that, "yes he believes he does remember something about it," and will always add: "you have reference to the night it rained so."

It was not long before Nashville seemed to rouse itself, and assume something like its former appearance, and to look as it had before war breathed its desolating breath upon the city. The stores were opened, the hotels commenced filling up, and as far as war was concerned, nothing was observable in the city to denote a state of war, or that the city was under martial law, except the passing of army wagons, or the tread of the provost guard. Order reigned, and protection from crime was given to all. The theatres were opened and played to full houses nightly; mostly officers and soldiers filled them, although generally there was a fair sprinkling of citizens in the audience. Pieces bearing directly upon the war, with strong union sentiments, were placed upon the boards, and the performance would be interspersed with songs of the most loyal character. One day there came an order for us to "strike tents." We had no idea of where we were going, but our march was not a long one, merely across the Cumberland to Edgefield, where we went into the old camp just vacated by the 16th Illinois. A more beautiful camp we had never seen. The quarters of the men were made of cane, which the 16th had procured some where in the neighborhood, and out of which they had contrived to make a camp, at once beautiful and artistic. All of the old boys will well remember it.

Chapter XV.

We were now fairly at work doing garrison duty, furnishing daily details for provost guard, train guard, picket guard, and all manner of guard duty that can be thought of. Our picket line extended in the shape of a horseshoe around the city, both flanks of the line resting on the river. General James D. Morgan commanded our division, and General Mitchell the post, at Nashville. Strict discipline was maintained, and we often thought that if the citizens of Nashville would have expressed their honest opinion they would with one accord have agreed that never was there better order in their city. There were some union people here, but the most of the inhabitant were cherishing in their bosoms, and rolling it as a sweet morsel under their tongues, the cause of the south. On the morning of the 31st of December the battle of Stone River or Murfreesboro opened. The cannonading could be plainly heard at Nashville, and at night fall we were alarmed with the news that the right wing of our army had been crushed and driven back, and that the battle was strongly in favor of the rebels. Anxiety was visible on every face, and everything was done that was thought necessary to insure the safety of the city if the news proved to be true. We say every face, but we are mistaken, some there were who could hardly repress their joy at the intelligence that their rebel friends were in a fair way to drive back the northern "mud-sills," but these reckoned without their host. True it was that the third division of McCook's corps, commanded by Sheridan, our old division, and which three times that day had repulsed the desperate charges of the enemy, were themselves repulsed when the enemy, with reinforcements, for the fourth time assailed them. But it fought on until one-fourth of its number lay bleeding and dying upon the field, and its last brigade commander had been killed, then it gave way and all three of the divisions in the corps were hurled back together into the immense series of cedar thickets which skirted the turnpike and extended far off to the right. But Rosecrans was not whipped, though the rebels had momentarily overpowered the right wing of his army, and he vigorously set to work to retrieve the disaster. Brigades and batteries from the divisions of Rousseau, Negly and Palmer were ordered to the right to check the progress of the foe and rally the fugitives. The infantry was rapidly massed in an array of imposing strength along the turnpike, and facing the woods through which the rebels were advancing. Still the broken divisions of McCook disputed the ground while retreating, and deeds of heroism were performed by officers and men in those dark thickets. Yet in spite of the desperate struggle which marked every fresh advance of the enemy, in spite of the heroic sacrifice of life on the part of the officers and soldiers of the union army, the rebels still steadily advanced, and came nearer to the turnpike. Nearly two miles and a half had the right wing yielded, and all the reinforcements that had been hurried into the woods to sustain it, had failed. The roar of cannon, the bursting of shells, the crash of shot through the trees, and the continuous roll of musketry, all mingled in one tremendous volume of sound, which rolled on, nearer and nearer, to the turnpike, where the genius and vigor of Rosecrans had massed the forces that were to receive the enemy, when he should emerge from the woods in pursuit of our retreating battalions. Col. Loomis was there with his 1st Michigan Battery, and Stokes with the guns furnished by the Chicago Board of Trade, and Mendenhall and Guenther, with their regular artillery. There were also the troops of General Wood, the brigades of Rousseau under Schribner, Beatty and Shepherd. At last the long lines of the enemy, rank upon rank, charged from the wood. A sheet of flame burst from the union ranks, a crash rent the atmosphere, and the artillery shook the earth. The foremost line of the rebel host was literally swept away; and then both armies were enveloped in a vast cloud of smoke. For ten minutes the thunder of battle burst forth from the cloud, and when our battalions advanced, they found no rebels between the turnpike and woods, except the disabled, the dying and the dead. The soil was red with blood, for within a brief space of time, the slaughter had been awful. Our troops having repulsed the rebel left, pushed into the woods after them, and drove them back over the ground they had at first occupied. Other desperate encounters occurred during the day, all along the line. It was eleven o'clock when Hardee was repulsed. In the mean time, while the battle was raging on the right, an attack was made upon Palmer's division, but the rebels were driven back with loss. There was now a lull in the storm of battle, and scarcely a volley of musketry or boom of cannon was heard for three quarters of an hour. Some hoped that these bloody scenes were ended for the day; but the rebel leaders, disappointed by their failure to penetrate to our camp by way of the right wing, were preparing for a bold blow at the centre. All the reserves were attached to the centre of their army under Polk; and Bragg in person placed himself at the head of the columns. And now was presented an imposing spectacle. The nature of the ground in this part of the field was such that every movement of either army could be distinctly seen. The open fields toward Murfreesboro were smooth enough for a holiday parade ground. A fierce cannonade up the turnpike announced the coming onset, and from the very woods out of which the rebel cavalry issued on Monday evening, the first line of battle now sallied forth.

It came on in magnificent order; and stretching away diagonally across a great sloping field, its length seemed interminable. At a sufficient interval another line deployed into the open ground, parallel with the first, and ere the forward battalions were engaged, a third line of battle came forth from the same woods. It seemed that our feeble lines in that direction must be crushed by the weight of these immense masses of living and moving men. But the ever watchful eye of Rosecrans had detected the rebel design, even before their first line of battle had emerged from among the trees. The union army was like a set of chess men in his hands, and its different brigades and divisions, were moved about with as much facility, as are pawns and pieces in that grand old game. The least exhausted troops of the left and centre, were hurried forward on the double quick to combat this new effort of the enemy, and even from the extreme left, where Van Cleve was posted, a brigade was brought over to take part in the defense. The same formidable array of batteries and battalions again confronted the foe, as that upon which the violence of Hardee's corps had spent itself, and similar results followed. Almost simultaneously a sheet of fire leaped forth from each of the opposing lines, and for a few minutes both lines stood like walls of stone, discharging their deadly missiles into each others bosoms. Then the rebels attempted to charge, but a storm of lead and iron hail burst in their faces, and all around them, sweeping them down by hundreds. If once the soldiers of the union wavered before this fiery onset, it was only for a moment, and in forty minutes from the time the first rebel line marched forth, all three of them had been dashed to pieces, and the survivors of the conflict flying in wild confusion over the slope, were disappearing in the depths of the woods. The battle for the day was over. But who can describe the sufferings which followed. The night air was pinching cold, and in the midst of those gloomy forests of pine and cedars on the right, numbers of men lay freezing, bleeding, dying; whom no human hand would ever succor. The rebel pickets advanced at night to the edge of the woods skirting the open ground, which was the scene of Hardee's terrible repulse. The hostile lines of battle were probably a thousand yards apart. The intervening space was covered with wounded who could not be carried off. He who chose to risk it, could crawl carefully up to the edge of the woods, and hear the shrieks and groans of the wounded men who were laying by hundreds among the trees. The men in our advance line lay down as well as they could upon the ground over which the storm of battle had swept. It was difficult to distinguish the bodies of the sleepers from the corpses, living and dead were slumbering peacefully together. There were places that night, indeed, where sleep came not to steep the senses in gentle forgetfulness. The poor soldier, whom the bullets of the enemy had not yet reached, could gather a few leaves, or sticks, or corn stalks, for a bed, clasp his faithful rifle in his arms, and with his blanket around him, if he were so fortunate as to possess one, sleep soundly, notwithstanding the bitter cold. He could build no fires, for that would reveal our position to the enemy; but so fatigued was he, that he could still slumber although his frame shivered involuntarily in the windy night atmosphere. But the mangled hero, laying in the field or hospital, knew no repose. Pain drove sleep away, and to those who felt themselves maimed, crippled for life, the keen mental anguish must have been more intolerable than physical pain. And there were the faithful surgeons, too, who knew no rest from their dreadful labors, and toiled on through the long and weary night. And so the days passed until Sunday came, and the soldiers awoke on Sunday morning to find the ground covered with snow, and on that day General Rosecrans entered Murfreesboro; Bragg having retreated with all his force. The total loss incurred by the union army was 11,285, killed, wounded and missing; of this number 2,800 were missing. The rebel loss was estimated at over 14,000 killed and wounded. And so ended the battle of Murfreesboro, one of the bloodiest battles of the war. It had been gained at a terrible cost of life and blood, but such are the wages that war demands. We have given this description of the battle of Murfreesboro for the purpose merely of giving the reader to understand that the reports which reached our ears at Nashville, were not idle rumors, but that the situation had been a trying one for our army, and one that called for vigilance on the part of those who had the city of Nashville in their charge. Every preparation had been made there to receive the enemy, if, unfortunately, he should overcome our forces, but as the result proved they were not needed.

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Chapter XVI.

While at Nashville many incidents happened in camp and we will relate one of them here. Our sutler, Charley Pratt, had found a very neat sutler's store, built of plank, and fitted up in a very substantial manner, probably by the sutler of the 16th Ill., and he was not slow to appropriate the building to his own use. In this he opened out his goods for our inspection and benefit, and we were pretty good customers. Charley had bought some fresh fish of which he sold a good many to the officers. These fish lay on a shelf in the rear end of his shebang, but in such a way as to present an inviting appearance to all. On the day to which we refer, Charley had received a fresh supply, and among the number was one uncommonly nice large fellow. Directly over this fish was a large knot-hole looking to the rear of the store. Now there had been the usual crowd all the morning around the sutler's store, and in the crowd was Jake E——. Jake was a good soldier, but had very crude notions of the rights of "mine and thine." Such thoughts never bothered Jake when anything particularly tempted his vision, especially if it was anything good to eat. Charley was aware of this fact, and when during the morning he happened to glance over towards his fish rack, behold the big fish was gone. He reflected a moment; he had not sold it, he knew; his eye rested on the knot-hole; a closer inspection showed scales adhering to the edge of the plank; he put this and that together and finally it beamed upon his mind that his big fish, his pride and joy, had been appropriated by some one who had not left him an equivalent. Jake had disappeared too. A happy thought struck Charley, and off he posted to our captain. The result of the interview was apparent when Cap. was seen to come out of his quarters and going into the tent of the first man who was nearest to him, commenced a search, as if looking for lost property. This he kept up until Jake's tent was reached; in went the captain. Jacob was reclining on his bunk in innocent ease, and when the captain entered, he greeted him with a cordial good morning. The captain returned the salutation and went on with his search.

"Get up Jacob," he said, as he approached the recumbent warrior.

"Why, cap., what are you hunting for?"

"I'm looking for a big fish that Pratt says was stolen from him this morning."

"A fish," says Jake, "well now, cap., there's no fish here, I've been laying here all the morning, as I didn't feel very well, and if any one had brought a fish in here I would surely have seen it."

"Well, well, get up," says the captain, "I have examined all the other boys' quarters and I must examine your's too, get up, Jacob."

Unwillingly Jake arose. The captain gathered up a blanket which he had under his head for a pillow. Holding it up and giving it a gentle shake, out dropped the lost fish, or a twin brother to it. Jake had nothing to say, the captain looked amazed, quietly picked up the fish and carried him off in triumph to the sutler. At roll call that evening the captain stated the facts of the case as far as he knew them to the company.

"And now, boys," said he, "I want you to convene a court martial, organize it in accordance with army regulations, bring before it Pratt as the plaintiff, and Jacob as the defendant. If upon evidence you find that Jacob has been guilty of stealing the fish, sentence him to such punishment as you think the case demands; we don't want any stealing here; if on the contrary you find the evidence faulty, why then of course you will acquit him."

The captain's suggestions were carried out the next morning. A regular court martial was convened, and Pratt and the prisoner brought before it. The testimony was taken _pro_ and _con_, and the result was that the theft of the fish was laid without any doubt on Jacob's shoulders, and the sentence of the court was that Jacob should be thrown in the river. As might be expected, Jake remonstrated strongly against such severe treatment, as he could not swim. But it was no use, the sentence had been pronounced and must be carried out, so he soon found himself being hurried vigorously toward the river. Arriving there he was gathered up by two stout fellows, and in he was sent head over heels. He sank and came to the surface again. The Cumberland is a very swift stream, and Jacob was soon going with the current, when some fellow stuck out a long pole to him and pulled him ashore. He climbed up the bank very wet, as might be supposed, and awful mad, and amid the laughter of all present, for the scene had drawn a large crowd to the river side, he started for camp, swearing vengeance on the members of that court martial. Rushing to his quarters, he grabbed his gun with the expressed intention of blowing the whole outfit to kingdom come, but his gun was soon taken away from him. Jake was awful mad, and all he wanted was an opportunity to retaliate, and it came in due order. Not many days after we received orders to prepare for inspection, and when we went to our beds that night we laid down with an inward feeling that we would pass a good inspection on the morrow. Our guns and accoutrements were in splendid condition, and each fellow had blacked his shoes until they fairly glistened. These we placed carefully in front of our tents, for there was a nice cane arbor there which kept off the dew, and turned in for the night. It so happened that Dave W——, of our company, had been, as Jake thought, rather prominent in his trial and punishment, and to Dave's tent he made his way. Everything was quiet, all were asleep in the tent. There stood Dave's boots as bright as leather could be made. It did not take Jake long to accomplish his errand, and when David went to pull on his boots to attend roll call at daylight the next morning, he found them filled with a very unpleasant composition. There was a row; Dave got late to roll call and came near being placed on extra duty for it, but nothing more was said about it that ever we heard of, and it was not until long afterwards that it leaked out who had put Dave's boots to a use for which they never were intended. Regular details as we have before stated, were made every day for provost duty in the city, and each company furnished the detail as its turn came around. It was not very severe work, but on the contrary was often mixed up with a good deal of fun. One morning the provost detail from Co. "B" reported at regimental headquarters for duty, and were sent under command of corporal James Duncan over to the city to relieve the guard then on duty there. The guard's headquarters in town were in the building used for the custom house. The front part of the building was used by the guard, and a room in the rear by a captain who had charge of the custom house business. This captain was a very pompous, dignified, little creature, and if we mistake not, was an officer of the regular army. At any rate he acted as if this world was not quite good enough for him, and as if a private soldier was a being so much beneath his dignity, that the only place suitable for him was in the field; there he would serve to keep the naughty enemy away and our little captain's precious body would not be endangered. Well, corporal Duncan marched his squad over to town, arrived in due time at the custom house, and reported to the non-commissioned officer in charge that he would relieve him. The change was soon made, and away went the relieved guard to their regimental quarters, leaving corporal Duncan and his squad in possession. For a few moments the corporal was busy attending to his duties and getting his men ready for the duty to be performed by them, when suddenly, "Corporal of the guard," came the summons, in a very imperious tone, from the room occupied by the captain just mentioned. Dropping everything, the corporal started to see what was wanted. The door of the room was open, and he marched into the august presence of the little captain, who looking up cast on him for a moment a disdainful glance.

"Go back, sir, and come in again," was the command. Jim obeyed, and again made his appearance.

"Go back again, sir," shouted the captain. Again he made his exit, wondering to himself what in the world that fellow meant. Again he returned, and again the same command for him to "go back." Jim was getting mad; he did not like to be made a fool of by this little pop-in-jay in shoulder straps, and the sequel might have proved unpleasant if it had gone on much longer. But at last the little captain, very red in the face, shouted at him:

"Go back and come in again, sir, and when you come in, salute me in a proper manner."

Poor Jim obeyed this time and the irate little captain was satisfied, as Jim, with not a very good grace, raised his hand to his cap in regular military salute. Pop-in-jay then gave him some orders, and Jim came back to us shutting the room door in a manner more forcible than pleasant to the nerves of the conceited fop inside. Was Jim mad do you ask? well slightly we remark. Did you ever see a hornet's nest stirred up? how mad each individual hornet will get! well, Jim was as mad as a whole nest of hornets, and he vowed the deepest vengeance on that captain. But that was all that ever came of it. Corporal Duncan was one of our best men, and was liked by all, and was always ready for duty; but ever after this affair, if any one wanted to be particularly aggravating and tantalizing, they would ask Jim "if he didn't think he could give 'em a salute, this fine morning." Poor fellow, he contracted the small-pox while at Nashville, and came very near dying; but he recovered at last, badly disfigured, and with the loss of an eye. He was discharged and sent home.

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Chapter XVII.

While at Nashville the pay master came, and gave us six months pay. This was very welcome, for the regiment was about cleaned out of money. We were, all of us, more or less in debt to one another, and some of the debts were contracted for very singular purposes. Card playing was a great pastime with many; poker being the game most in vogue. But poker playing without money, was considered rather dry fun. So some ingenious chap hit upon the plan of each fellow giving his note for his losses, payable at pay day. There was a good many of these notes in camp, and now that pay day had come, the holders of them were clamorous for their money. We do not know how they ever settled it, as we were not given to card playing ourself, and consequently had no interest in the matter, but we heard considerable fuss made, and several fights occurred over the trouble, which generally was wound up by the participators being ordered to stand on a barrel, or carry a rail for a certain length of time. But now that we had money once more, things began to look a little different in the dress of the men. Paper collars made their appearance, fine boots, hats purchased in the stores of Nashville, and clothing of the regulation style and color, but of finer material, were sported every day on the persons of the warriors. Many sent their money home by express, others opened up "chuck-a-luck" banks, and in some cases won a good deal of money, while some lost all they had. At Nashville, too, we received, officially, the President's Emancipation Proclamation. It caused a great stir. There were many who were opposed to it (we have reference to the army of course), and several officers resigned their positions and went home. The army was better off without them. The proclamation was a matter of earnest and grave debate with us all, and strong and stubborn arguments were urged on both sides. It will be as well to remark here that when the regiment was organized its political complection was of a decided democratic tinge. We had faith in Douglas' doctrine, and many of us thought it a cruel and outrageous piece of business to deprive the South of its slavery in this way. But how different the subject looks to us now. Douglas sleeps in his quiet tomb on the shores of Lake Michigan, while the remains of the mighty Lincoln, the promulgator of the immortal proclamation, the wise and good ruler, "with malice toward none, and with charity for all," quietly rests in the mausoleum at Springfield, the capitol of the state he loved so well. President Lincoln followed the logical course of events in issuing this proclamation. He was neither too soon nor too late with it. He had a host of interests to consult, all of which involved the social, commercial and political happiness of the country. He found the institution of slavery sustaining a great agricultural interest in many states of the Union. Cotton, sugar, rice and tobacco, and other staples, seemed to live upon its labor, and vast European and American enterprises depended on its preservation. The villages of Lancashire, the counting rooms of New York, the mills of Massachusetts, the looms of France; to the uttermost ends of the earth, in India and Australia, the safety of the cotton crop, and the protection of cotton labor, were matters of comfort, necessity and bread. It was not an easy matter to proclaim a decree, so universal in its application, and so radical in its operation, and to the wisdom and sagacity of our martyred President let us record it, that he did not issue the proclamation until justified by the treason and violence of the promoters of the cotton interest, and masters of cotton labor.

But our stay at Nashville was drawing to a close. We had been here so long that it seemed to many of us when marching orders at length came, like leaving home. We had formed acquaintance with a good many of the citizens, and had established very social terms with them, and, in fact, were enjoying ourselves very pleasantly. But the life of a soldier is always uncertain, and his abiding place transitory, here to day and gone to morrow. We had been in Nashville at this time about six months, and it was now June. Shortly after our arrival here, the "weeding out" of the regiment, as it might be called, took place. Many officers, finding themselves unfit, physically, for the arduous labors of the field, resigned. The men whom sickness and disease had rendered unfit for further service, were discharged and sent home, and the effective force of the regiment was thoroughly cleared of all incumbrances, and brought up to the highest military standard. The time had not been wasted, but every day drilling, and manœuvering had been practiced. The regiment had been relieved of its worthless Austrian rifles, and given the Enfield, a splendid weapon. We all had good clothing, and good health. The first rough edge of our soldier life, had been taken off, and we were now inured to anything reasonable in the shape of hardship and exposure.

So at last one bright June morning in 1863, the orders came for us to "strike tents." We had also received, while here at Nashville, our shelter, or as the boys called them, our "dog tents," and as it may be interesting to some who read these pages, we will describe what the "dog tent" was like. It consisted of two pieces of canvas about four feet in length and three in width. One end of these pieces had button holes worked in it, and the other buttons. Two men occupied each tent, and of course each fellow selected his own tent mate, or "partner," as we used to call him. Each man carried, when on the march, one-half of the tent, in other words each man carried the half of his house roof, and it was a very particular matter that no disturbance should arise between these "dog tent" dwellers, for if there did one fellow would walk off with his half of the house, leaving the other one to make the best of the situation. But happily for us good feeling prevailed throughout the entire regiment amongst the men. Of course there were a few who were naturally inclined to be peevish and irritable, but they soon got over it when they found the majority were opposed to such exhibitions of ill nature. These "dog tents" were about three feet high, and in consequence whenever we wanted to get into them, we had to come down on our knees and crawl in, hence their name. They answered very well for us short fellows, but the long legged chaps found it difficult to keep their feet inside of the house. When we arrived in camp at night it was a simple matter to pitch them; every other man, nearly, was supplied with a neat little hand-ax, and all the labor required in erecting our tents was to cut two forked sticks, sharpen the ends and drive them into the ground, a long straight stick for the ridge pole, the ends of the tent buttoned together and thrown over it and staked down to the ground, and the house was ready for occupation. They answered the purpose very well for life in the field, and were tolerably comfortable.

Chapter XVIII.

We firmly believe that the mule and dog tent, were two great levers in aiding to put down the rebellion, for it would have been impossible to have transported, in wagons, tentage enough for that great army. But Oh! how mad we got when they were first issued to us. We swore "we wouldn't have anything to do with 'em, they were pretty looking things to give a man to sleep under," and our anger at the Government was great. But time makes all things even, and we found that the genius that had invented the "dog-tent," was worthy all praise. Their erection and taking down was but the work of a few moments, and when each piece was tightly rolled up it formed a very small parcel, and handy to carry. So away we marched from Nashville, as finely an equipped army division as ever took the field. We were indeed a small world within ourselves, and each man carried with him his own board and lodging. We were on the march for Murfreesboro, and camped for the night at Lavergne, a small place fifteen miles south east of Nashville. Next morning we were again on the move for Murfreesboro, which place we reached that day, and went into camp. All around the place were visible signs of the terrible struggle which had taken place. Here were the rebel breast works and fortifications, erected by the negroes, under the eye of skillful engineers who had been educated at the expense of that government against which they were now directing their best efforts. Here were the ruts which had been cut by army wagons and artillery, showing the terrible condition in which the ground must have been. The skeletons of horses and mules were all around us; here lay a broken and dismantled gun carriage, yonder a wrecked ambulance, and look which way you would, desolation and ruin met the eye. Here, also, were the winter quarters which the rebel army had provided for themselves, thinking that we would go into winter quarters at Nashville, and perhaps that they might themselves be able to occupy that place. But they were doomed to disappointment, and neither place gave them rest for the soles of their feet. We only remained at Murfreesboro a few days when we were again ordered to move.

Chattanooga was now the objective point of the General Commanding, and thither we bent our steps as rapidly as possible. To reach that point from the position we now occupied, required a march of from sixty-five to seventy miles, over a country destitute of forage, poorly supplied with water, and narrow and difficult wagon roads. Before again commencing active operations however. General Rosecrans determined to repair the Nashville and Chattanooga rail road, to bring forward the needful subsistence and forage for the army, which it would be impossible to transport on wagons. At Stevenson, Alabama, these supplies having accumulated in sufficient quantities by the eighth of August, corps commanders were that day directed to supply their troops as soon as possible with rations and forage for a general movement. We began the march across the Cumberland Mountains on the morning of the 16th of August, 1863, and completed the movement by the evening of the 20th. We made a good part of the march after night, over the roughest roads imaginable; now winding along the side of the Tennessee River, which we could see far down below us, with the stars reflected in its bosom; now down a jump off of at least two feet, tumbling and stumbling over rocks and boulders, we wended our weary way. It was a hard march, and we were thankful when it was over. But the object of our General was accomplished, and the rebels were flanked out of Chattanooga, which had been very properly called the Gibraltar of the West. It was indeed a strongly fortified place naturally. It lays on the south bank of the Tennessee River, and was almost impregnable from the front. But the flank movement of Rosecrans was too much for the rebels, and on the eighth of September, they evacuated the place, and our army took peaceable possession. We were now under command of Major General Gordon Granger. Marching through Chattanooga, which did not look as if it had ever been much of a town, we moved out to a little place called Rossville and went into camp. Here it was that an incident occurred which for a time threatened to create a great disturbance. General Granger had issued strict orders, forbidding foraging by the men, but in spite of all orders to the contrary they would slip out into the adjacent country and procure what they could in the shape of eatables. On this afternoon to which we have reference, General Granger was sitting in the yard in front of his headquarters, when from up the road which passed in front of him, came a couple of boys loaded down with fresh meat.

"Halt there," said Granger. "What have you got there?"

"Meat," said the boys.

"March in here," came the command, and into the yard with their meat they went.

"Did you not know that my orders forbade foraging? Throw your meat down there, and take one of those rails, each one of you, and march around that tree," pointing to a tree that stood near by. They silently obeyed. Granger resumed his position, from which he had arisen, cursing and swearing. He had not been seated long, however, before another squad came marching by laden down with eatables.

"Halt!" again rang out. "March in here you men, and throw your stuff on that meat; pick up a rail apiece, and march around that tree."

As before the order was obeyed. Granger was furious, and striding off to his adjutant's tent, ordered him to send out some mounted men, and bring to his headquarters, all men found foraging. The order was given, and soon the horsemen were seen riding on their errand. They returned after a while with quite a squad of unfortunates who were loaded down with all conceivable manner of food. Marching them into the presence of Granger, they were ordered to do as the others had done, and such another pile of eatables that yard had never before seen. Chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, flour, hams, honey, grapes, potatoes, the carcases of calves, sheep and hogs, everything almost that could be thought of. On to the pile they were thrown, and each fellow, shouldering a rail, commenced his march around a tree. Granger was wild with rage; he stamped and swore "His orders had been willfully disobeyed, and, by G—d, he was going to make an example of these fellows." Calling for the sergeant of his headquarters guard, which, on that evening, happened to be from our regiment, and which, if we are not mistaken, was under command of sergeant Poage, of Co. "E.," he ordered him to go to the teamsters and get a "black-snake." But all this had not happened without the knowledge of the rest of the command, and soon quite a crowd had collected around to see th