Читать книгу The Campaigns of the 124th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry, with Roster and Roll of Honor - G. W. Lewis - Страница 4

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The One Hundred and Twenty-fourth Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry, was born of the great impulse of patriotism that swept over the country in the latter part of the summer of 1862, occasioned by the necessity for the "300,000 more" to put down the slaveholder's rebellion. The greater part of the regiment volunteered without the aid of a recruiting officer. Company A was raised in Cuyahoga county, and the patriotic and earnest William Wilson, afterwards its captain, seconded by that most enthusiastic of men, Cleveland Van Dorn, afterwards captain of Company D, were the leading spirits around which the brave men, that afterwards were mustered into the service of the United States as Co. A, 124th O. V. I., gathered, and became in fact what they were by letter, the first of the regiment. Company A was organized with the intention of becoming a part of the 103d O. V. I., but on going into camp, Captain Wilson found that regiment already full, and finally determined to join his fortunes, and that of his noble men, with those of the 124th O. V. I., to which regiment Oliver H. Payne had been commissioned as lieutenant colonel, and James Pickands, formerly of the 1st O. V. I., as major.

Company B was organized, almost exclusively, from the young men of the western townships of Medina county. Spencer township furnished the greater number, some forty enlisting from that township in one day, August 12th. Litchfield township furnished a goodly number, while Homer, Harrisville, Chatham, La Fayette helped to swell the ranks, while a few came from Wayne, some from Lorain, and later the youngest member, John M. Bowman, was consigned by his patriotic mother, residing in Cleveland, to the care of Company B. This company, or rather body of men, was sent into Camp Cleveland by order of the Military Committee of Medina county, composed of Judge Samuel Humphreville, John B. Young, Esq., and Mr. John Rounds. This body of men, by the intercessions of the committee with Governor Todd, was suffered to elect its commissioned officers, and, as the result, George W. Lewis was chosen captain, John Raidaie, first lieutenant, and Charles M. Stedman, second lieutenant. When this company came to be mustered into the service of the United States, it had so many men that a number of them had to be mustered in other companies, and were afterwards transferred back to the company in which they had enlisted. This was also the experience of Company A.

Company C was mostly raised in Cuyahoga, and Robert Wallace, afterwards its captain, and John O'Brien, afterwards its second lieutenant, seemed to be the nucleus around which the good men of Company C appeared to form. Many of them were from the "Emerald Isle," and proved their honor and daring on many hard fought fields of the campaigns of the regiment in after days.

Company E came in from Lorain county, and John W. Bullock was made its captain. But time and space forbid a more extended notice of the different parts of an organization that was first-class, singly, or as a whole, more than to say that Company D was brought into camp by Captain George W. Aumend, the company being raised mostly in Henry county. Company F was raised from the northern part of the state, and was commanded by Captain Horace E. Dakin. Company G had many men from Cincinnati, but was, in fact, recruited from all parts of the state. Captain William A. Powell was its first captain. Company H was recruited, mostly, in Cleveland, and its first captain was that accomplished officer, Eben S. Coe. Company I was largely from Cincinnati, with the late lamented James H. Frost as its first captain, while Company K seemed to be a sort of an overflow from almost anywhere. Hiram H. Manning was its first captain, and he was not mustered as such until November 10th, 1863. It seemed for a long time to be a sort of "motherless colt" of the regiment, and fared accordingly, but it never failed in action, if it did not always have the care a company should have.

In Camp Cleveland we took our first lesson as soldiers. Here the "Awkward Squad" might have been seen, at almost all hours of sunlight, being drilled by one a very little less awkward than themselves. The "halt," "right-dress," "forward," "steady there," "eyes right," "eyes left," "right wheel," etc., etc., given in the tones of a Stentor, might have been heard on the parade grounds of Camp Cleveland, in season and out of season, during all the fall and early winter of 1862. We were not well up in the manual of arms here, as I do not remember that we had muskets for all the men in this camp.

Camp Cleveland, during the time our regiment was there, was a hard place for the young volunteer. Calls were constantly being made by the relatives of the volunteers, and visits were constantly being solicited and made to the old homes, so that, in time, the best officer(?) was the one that granted the greatest number of "leaves of absence." Under such circumstances, anything like the discipline necessary to perfect the raw but patriotic volunteer into the well drilled and efficient soldier was out of the question, and many a line officer was relieved of a very heavy burden when January 1st, 1863, came, and our regiment was furnished transportation toward the seat of war. None of the living members of the 124th will have forgotten the terrible snowstorm at Elizabethtown, Ky.

About the first of February, 1863, it seems a large number of regiments were assembled at and near Louisville, Ky., to be forwarded to augment the Army of the Cumberland, under the then victorious, and very popular, General Rosecrans. Our regiment was paid off before we started on that ever memorable expedition "down the Ohio," and up the Cumberland river to Nashville, Tenn. Those were the times that tried the souls of the company commandant. We had never been mustered for pay, and without anyone, at first, to instruct us, that which afterwards seemed very simple, was then a mountain of responsibility and worry. The captain that could not get his muster rolls so they would pass the inspection of that prince among gentlemen, Paymaster Major John Coon, could not have his company paid, and anxiety is never a very great auxiliary to the completion of a new and hard task. But those of us that looked upon this financial officer in a sense akin to dread, found him a genial schoolmaster, and he not only instructed us in our duties, but followed us down the river until the last company of our regiment had received its pay. The larger share of this money was sent home to wives and children, and friends (some to creditors) in our own Ohio.

I have often wondered why the government did not march this force, that was assembled at Louisville, to Nashville. The distance was one hundred and eighty miles, connected by one of the best macadamized roads in the country; and could we have been permitted to make the march by easy stages, we would have been half soldiers by the time we reached Nashville, and in a condition of health and soldierly prosperity very much to be desired. But the way we were sent by the old stern-wheelers, it occupied eleven days to make the trip, with no fire to keep us comfortable or for cooking our rations, while the nights were spent in shivering on the cheerless decks of those old wheezy and stinking boats, which to all appearances had not been cleaned since the carpenters laid their keels. Many a man was lost to the service of his country from this method of his transportation, and many a man dates the loss of his health from those eleven days of suffering and exposure. But whoever writes of wars must write of mistakes; but we will think that everything was intended for our good, by those that had the good of the country in their keeping. The night we approached Nashville, we heard heavy firing up the river, and found the next morning on coming up to the site of Fort Donelson, that a portion of Wheeler's command had made an attack upon the small garrison, and had been repulsed with a very severe loss, considering the number engaged.

We went ashore and saw the dead confederates lying all about a piece of artillery, that it seems they had endeavored to take by charging the same; but the gun manned by the brave Illinoisans that composed the garrison, made fearful havoc in the ranks of Wheeler. The officer that lead the charge, Col. Overton, lay dead near the piece, and we were told he was the same man that owned the estate where we first made our camp in Tennessee. The killed of the garrison had been gathered under a shed, and were composed in what seemed to me to be a long row, and as I looked upon their upturned faces, pallid in death, and ghastly with wounds, I thought I had already seen enough of war. We returned to our boat, and steamed slowly up to Nashville. Going from Donelson to Nashville we saw the river gunboat, Concord. It was claimed that this boat had taken part in the fight of the day before, and we looked upon it, not only with curiosity, but with admiration, it being the first specimen of Uncle Sam's navy that many of us had ever seen. On arriving at the levee at Nashville, we disembarked, and forming the regiment in column of company front, with our band playing, and colors flying, we marched through the principal street of the city. But how different from Cleveland, O. Not a friendly face greeted us. Hardly a citizen was to be seen on the streets, and not a salute nor a shout welcomed us to this one of the most treasonable cities of the confederacy. We now, for the first time, realized that we were in the land of the rebellion. We moved that evening out to Overton Heights on the Franklin pike, and went into camp on the very spot where the same regiment, as veteran soldiers, on the sixteenth day of December, 1864, scattered the last of Hood's infantry on the memorable field of Nashville.

In a few days we marched to the village of Franklin, eighteen miles by the pike from Nashville. This march was a very trying ordeal for us green soldiers. The most of the men carried luggage enough to overload a mule, and such knapsacks as the men staggered under in this little march, would have been a matter of amusement later in the war.

On arriving at Franklin, we went into camp on the north side of the Harpeth river, that forms the northern boundary of the village, and commenced soldier life in earnest. This place was occupied as an outpost of General Van Dorn's division of Bragg's army, but what few rebels were on duty here did not seem to care to try titles with us. Here, our major, James B. Hampson, came to us, and being a member of the old Cleveland Grays, and also having seen service in one of the earlier regiments of the Ohio troops, was a very valuable acquisition to us in the way of an instructor. His soldierly bearing and pleasant manner won all our hearts. He instructed us in the "manual of arms," taught us the "load in nine times," while in regimental and brigade drill he was a regular God-send to the ignorant officers of the line, that the most of us were. Here we had to attend the "school for the officer" and recite from Casey's Tactics to our young colonel, and many the hour we spent with him, ere the, to us, at that time, mysterious positions in which a regiment could be formed were thoroughly mastered. Some of our officers could learn nothing from books; but for school-teachers, like Captain Van Dorn, and preachers, like Captain Stratton, it was nothing but fun to repair to the Colonel's quarters to recite to one that had an earnest desire to make capable officers of us all. We were now in the presence of the enemy, and Forrest's cavalry used often to lope up to our pickets to see what we looked like; and it was no infrequent occurrence for the dreaded "long-roll" to call us from our slumbers to stand at arms for an hour on the regimental parade ground. I remember one morning that we were thus called out, and Company C, under Lieutenant O'Brien, was a little late in taking its place in the line. Soon we heard it coming on the double quick, while the "rich Irish brogue" of the lieutenant in getting his company into line attracted our attention more than any advance of the enemy that we apprehended (for by this time we had discovered that this standing at arms was a scheme of old granny Gilbert to give our hospitals practice); finding his place in the line, in some way, his last command was, "Sthand fast company say, and I'll lay me bones wid ye."

In the school of the officer, I remember his attempt at recitation that ran something like this: "The ordly sagint thin advances tin paces, surrur! nah!—two paces—I don't know, surrur." The big-hearted Irishman, that did the fine work on the Perry monument, cutting the guard chain of his watch out of the solid marble, at last learned that he was not intended for an officer, though brave and patriotic, tendered his resignation, and that was the last we ever saw or heard of Lieutenant John O'Brien.

But while instructions in the movements of the company and regiment were necessary, and we all tried to profit by the same, facility in recitation did not necessarily make the valuable officer. As an instance, our Methodist minister, Captain Daniel Stratton, was Wonderfully fluent at the recitations, and became quite well drilled, but at our first great battle, Chickamauga, he deserted his company, as we were coming into the action, in the face of the enemy, and was saved from the fate of his conduct by the great heart of Colonel Pickands. He said to the colonel, "when I thought of my wife and dear children at home I could not advance a single step towards the front." But he advanced pretty well towards the rear, for after two days of dreadful fighting and the third day in offering battle to an enemy, nominally victors, but thoroughly whipped (save the magazine writers), we came to Chattanooga and found our preacher in very comfortable quarters, with his resignation ready written out, which was accepted by our regimental commandant. Could our Irish lieutenant have done worse? The march, the campaign, the skirmish line, the picket duty, the battle, after all, were the true tests of soldierly qualities. Many a man, many an officer, arose in our estimation, after we saw him tried in the ordeal of battle, for whom we entertained but very little respect before.

At Franklin we had to do picket duty by company out south of the village, our line running along near the residence of one of the high-toned families of the town, by the name of Atkinson. At his residence our reserve post was established, and we posted a guard to protect the family, which consisted of the old gentleman, quite aged, his wife and a beautiful daughter, bearing the common but genial name of Sally. There were two sons, but both were serving in General Frank Cheatham's division of the rebel army. Sally was quite an expert singer, and played the piano reasonably well, and, to entertain us, she was kind enough to sing some of the war songs of the confederacy. I remember pieces of those songs to this day; one went like this:

"Hurrah, hurrah, for southern rights hurrah,

Hurrah for the bonny blue flag, that bears the single star."

And another:

"No northern flag shall ever wave

O'er southern soil and southern graves,

Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land,

In Dixie land we'll take our stand,

And conquer peace for Dixie."

These rebel war songs and others might have been heard floating out on the soft evening air, near the old locust grove, and no one of the brave men that did duty there thought any the less of the pert and plucky rebel girl. We laughed at her wit and the raillery that she heaped on us, calling us invaders. But the colonel of the 125th was one day on duty as officer of the day, and hearing of the rebel girl and her songs, reported the matter to old granny Gilbert, who issued an order that had the effect of an injunction, and we heard no more of the sweet voice of Sally Atkinson while we did duty at Franklin. Colonel Opdyke was an excellent officer in many respects, but a pronounced martinet, and had not a particle of humor in his composition. There was a rumor in the regiment that our Colonel Jim, as we sometimes called him, was a little sweet on Sally, but I think there was nothing of it, and for the sad fate of Sally and her two brothers, see the last campaign of this book.

We had not been long in Franklin before our experience in transportation, heretofore referred to, began to have its deadly effect. The typhoid fever and camp diarrhœa became alarmingly common. Our men sickened and were sent to the general hospital at Nashville, where very many died, and many were discharged, as unfit for further military duty. Not any one of the hard fought battles of our campaigns so depleted our ranks as our stay at Franklin. The water was of the limestone formation, and did not seem to agree with those that were comparatively well, much less those that were sick. I think that every old soldier will agree with me that the march, while more fatiguing, is more healthful than the camp.

While at Franklin we had the misfortune to be under the command of one General Gilbert, a regular army officer. A man that the government had educated at great expense at West Point, and had kept in service for years after, and yet had no process of determining that he had no sense.

This man, that might possibly have commanded a company under a careful colonel, was placed in command of all the forces around Franklin. I am sorry to say it was under the command of this imbecile that we first met the enemy. Colonel Coburn's brigade, which was composed of the 85th and 33d Ind. V. I., the 19th Mich. V. I., the 22d Wis. V. I., the 2d Mich. Cav., a part of the 4th Ky., and a part of the 9th Pa. Cav., with a light battery of six guns and a small train of wagons for forage, was ordered in the direction of Columbia. Our regiment accompanied the expedition as train guard. We moved a short distance the first day out and went into camp, having seen a few rebel cavalry, and having received the fire from a rebel gun or two that did no damage to us, save the breaking a musket stock for one of our men. The next morning we moved out of camp, and I remember watching the 19th Mich., it was such a large, fine looking body of men, and moved down the pike toward Thompson Station. Colonel Coburn soon developed the enemy in force, and so reported to General Gilbert, who sent back an order for him to advance and engage the enemy, intimating that the commander of the brigade was a coward. Colonel Coburn then advanced and engaged the rebels, but his little force was outflanked on either side by the superior numbers of the enemy, and though fighting heroically, were soon surrounded and captured, save the battery that ran over the rebel infantry, and a small part of the 22d Wis., a part of one company, the cavalry force; and had it not been for our good luck in being on duty with the wagons, we would also have been taken. As it was, nothing saved us but the best of running, and in a long race at that. We came into camp that night badly used up, and very much disgusted with our old granny Gilbert, having seen and run away from the battle of Thompson Station. The government expended Colonel Coburn's brigade and the lives of many brave men to learn, what every soldier about Franklin knew from the first, that Gilbert was not fit to be in the command of anybody.

While at Franklin we built a very fine fort, situated northwesterly of the village, and near our camp. The fort was built of earth, regularly laid out with angles, and a deep moat surrounding the entire work. The embrasures were well protected with gabions made of cane bound in bundles, and in the center a fine magazine was constructed.

Heavy guns were brought from Nashville, and mounted en barbette. Why the fort was built none could tell. The chances that it would ever be of use to the cause of the Union were one thousand to one against the proposition, but at the battle of Franklin, November 30, 1864, it paid large interest on the investment. Those big smooth-bore guns shelled the cotton field, south of the village, over which the rebels charged, in a manner which was fearful to behold. We that had worked so many days on that fort, felt that we were well repaid for our toil.

While the fort was building, it occurred to Colonel Payne that the "contraband of war" might be useful in this work, so he ordered Lieutenant Raidaie to take a detail of men, and go forth and bring in such of the bondmen as he could find that were able to do the work required. So the lieutenant sallied forth in the direction of Roper's Knob, and he was rewarded by finding large numbers of the aforesaid "contraband," as the slave owners of Kentucky had sent their slaves into Tennessee, to keep them as far away as possible from the union lines. These slaves we kept in camp until the fort was completed, and all that desired were permitted to return to the places from whence they were taken; but many of the younger ones stayed with us, and engaged themselves as servants to the officers. But it was wonderful with what alacrity these poor ignorant colored people performed the work required of them. They seemed to realize that they were working for themselves.

March 9th, 1863, we left our camp at Franklin, General Gordon Granger in command, and marched to within about a mile of Spring Hill, passed by and over the battle field of March 5th, Thompson Station, but saw no evidences of the late unequal, but sanguinary contest, save a few broken guns and some dead horses. We went into bivouac at night, having no tents with us. We marched thirteen miles. The next day it commenced raining and we were all wet to the skin, but nothing daunted, we went at work and fixed up shelter, and at about ten a. m. we had marching orders. We marched about three miles, it raining all the time. Company B received a detail to furnish twenty-five men for picket duty, which was filled with healthy men, and quite a number of sick men in camp, and the number ailing in the regiment was far from being inconsiderable. But we found the next day that this movement toward Columbia did not mean anything, and we were ordered back to Franklin, which was only a march of seventeen miles, but we came into camp that night as stiff and sore as foundered horses. We had no battle, we had lost no men, but take it all in all, we were the better soldiers for the experience we had gained.

We had now been in Franklin three months, and had put in the time in all the ways in which a soldier's life is made up. Now, hardly a day went by that the rebel cavalry did not appear at our picket line, and frequently a lively skirmish would occur between our cavalry and a detachment of that of our enemy. The losses of the rebels were always enormous(?) while ours were entirely insignificant. The early part of April the rebels made a raid on our rear, and destroyed a bridge on the railroad about six miles north of Franklin, which caused us very much annoyance, for at that period in our history, as soldiers, we thought we were badly treated if we did not get our letters regularly from home.

June 2d, 1863, was our last at the camp at Franklin. Here, we had learned very much of the duties of the soldier. We had not been slack in our work, and had become quite proficient in the company, regimental, and brigade evolutions. Here we had bidden good-bye to very many of our men, and our companies were small compared to what they were when we came to this camp; but our colonel consoled us by insisting that the fighting number of one hundred men, for all causes, was about sixty, and we found afterwards that the estimate of our young colonel was not far from the mark. This day we struck our tents, and marched to Triune, a distance of but thirteen miles, but the weather was so excessively hot that our men suffered a great deal; but we had learned some wisdom from our former experience, for our knapsacks were not nearly as large as when we left Nashville. We remained in Triune until the twenty-first day of June, during which time we were stirred up by skirmishes very frequently, but the skirmishing was done mostly by the cavalry, on the respective sides, and the usual large stories were told in camp of our immense superiority over the enemy. While at Triune, one of our fellow citizens from Ohio, C. L. Vallandigham, was sent through our lines "to his friends in the south," as Mr. Lincoln humorously put it. We were usually very glad to see anyone from home, but we were not at all proud of this representative from Ohio.

We now saw what we regarded as indications of a general advance on the position of the enemy, and it seemed to be our fate to be compelled to march to the extreme left of the army to join the brigade to which we had been assigned while at Triune. We were assigned to what was called Hazen's brigade, composed of the 41st O. V. I., the 9th Ind. V. I., the 93d O. V. I., the 6th Ky. V. I., and our regiment, commanded by General Wm. B. Hazen, the first colonel of the 41st, an officer in every way qualified for the command assigned him. This day we marched over the battle field of Stone river, through the dense cedars that figure so conspicuously in the descriptions of that terrible engagement of the closing year of 1862. We marched through the village of Murfreesborough, and out one and one-half miles east of the town, and went into camp, having come that day a distance of twenty-two miles, with less fatigue and suffering than any we had formerly made. The next day we marched to Readyville, a distance of twelve miles, and found our brigade. Here we fixed up a nice camp, and were informed we would stay for some time. This was as desolate a part of the south as it was ever our fortune to tread over. It did not seem to be inhabited to any great extent, and was as woodsy as Ohio seventy-five years ago. On the twenty-fourth of June we broke up our camp and marched directly south through Bradyville, a city consisting of three houses. We saw the burning of a great amount of provisions before leaving Readyville that we concluded had to be abandoned for lack of transportation. We marched this day about seven miles in a very severe rainstorm. We were now informed that we were after General Bragg, and we might expect a general engagement at any time. The next day we marched not to exceed six or seven miles, and came to a very long, steep hill that gave our artillery and train great difficulty in the ascent. The roads we came over this day were the worst we had so far encountered, but when we were on the top of this hill we were on a broad shelf or table-land lying directly west of the Cumberland mountains that seemed good for nothing, save to illustrate the great variety of the works of Almighty God. The next day we stayed in camp all day, waiting for our train to come up. It rained almost all day long. The next day, June 27th, company B was detailed to help the train along. They came to what is called the Long Branch of the Duck river, and the men had to build a brush bridge across the stream, and after getting mired in the quicksands time and time again, they finally succeeded in getting the train over. This company did not get in to join the regiment until the next morning, and then came wet, weary, and not in their usual sweet temper.

The next day, Sunday, we marched but four miles and camped in a wood (I do not remember of seeing any fields); but one thing justice requires to be said for this table-land country, the water was simply exquisite. We were now reported to be within forty-two miles of Manchester, and we were informed that we were now making a grand flank movement that was to cut off the retreat of Bragg, and by which we were to capture his entire army, and, in fact, we were making this grand flank movement at the rapid(?) rate of from seven to ten miles per day. On the twenty-ninth we crossed the east branch of Duck river and did little but get our train over this miry stream. This same weary marching continued until the fourth day of July, and finds us on the Elk river, at Morris Ford, awaiting the arrival of the pontoons. It had rained almost incessantly for the last fourteen days, and very many of us had not had our clothing dry in that time, but the weather was warm and none of us seemed to take cold; I remember one day of this march that it was so very hot that the men fell out in great numbers, and when we halted at night, no company of the regiment could show more than one stack of muskets; but before morning the good faithful boys came in, and the next day were ready to resume their arduous duties. On July the 8th we arrived at Manchester, and found that General Bragg had escaped us, and had crossed the mountains into the valley of the Tennessee. We had not seen a rebel since leaving Triune, and owing to the condition of the country and roads, if we had seen one he must have been dead, for we did not move fast enough to overtake a live one. No battle had been fought, though one day we heard heavy firing in the direction of Tullahoma.

And so ended the summer for the 124th O. V. I., and also, in fact, for the Army of the Cumberland. Although General Rosecrans had not succeeded in bringing Bragg to an engagement, he had driven him from middle Tennessee, the great rebel recruiting ground for men, animals, and supplies, and while the victory was bloodless, it was in no small sense important to the union cause. The unionists of east Tennessee saw in it their coming deliverance, while the depressing effect of a retreat told upon the confederate forces. Since leaving Franklin our regiment had marched over one hundred and fifty miles, which, considering the weather and the state of the roads, was an accomplishment that had a tendency to increase our confidence, and prepare us for the more arduous duties that fell to our lot after we crossed the great mountains and commenced operations in the valley of the Tennessee—the key to the conquest of the confederacy.

QUARTERMASTER WILLIAM TREAT.