Читать книгу The Seventh Regiment: A Record - George L. Wood - Страница 6

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On the 11th day of July General Rosecrans, by order of General McClellan, marched his brigade eight miles through a mountain-path to the rear of the rebel force, occupying the crest of Rich Mountain, commanded by Colonel Pegram. This movement resulted in the fighting of the battle of that name. The rebels were completely defeated, and made a precipitate retreat towards Carrick's Ford, where, on the 13th, they were again routed, with the loss of their general.

In the mean time the rebel General Wise had occupied the Kanawha Valley, with a few regular troops and a considerable force of militia.

The advance of this force extended as far down the river as Buffalo, while numerous incursions were made by the rebel cavalry in the vicinity of Point Pleasant, a village situated at the junction of the Kanawha with the Ohio River.

To oppose this force General Cox was sent with a brigade of Ohio troops. His main force passed up the river in boats, while a sufficient force was kept on each flank to prevent surprise.

General Wise gradually retired at the advance of this force until, arriving on the banks of Scarey Creek, he threw up some breastworks, and awaited the approach of the Union troops.

While these movements were being executed in the valley, Colonel Tyler was ordered to advance with a brigade by the way of Sutton, to menace Gauley Bridge, and threaten Wise's communications.

On the 22d of July the Seventh Regiment moved out of Glenville, on what is called the Braxton road, towards Bulltown, where it was to be joined by Colonel Tyler with the Seventeenth Ohio, two companies of the First Virginia, with Captain Mack's battery, United States Artillery, and Captain Snyder's section of twelve-pounders, making a force of fifteen hundred.

We arrived at Bulltown in the evening of the next day, meeting with no resistance from the rebels, who were scattered in small parties through this entire region of country. We had expected to meet with opposition at the ford, on the Little Kanawha, some twenty miles from Glenville, but with the exception of a small band of guerillas, who were very careful to keep the river between ourselves and them, we saw no rebels.

It was not until the evening of the 25th that we broke camp, and then to cross a range of hills only, into the valley of the Elk, where we remained until the 27th of July.

At this camp we learned of a rebel force at Flat Woods, distant six miles, in the direction of Sutton. On the 27th we moved out, in a heavy rain, to attack their camp, but at our approach they fled in dismay.

We remained at Flat Woods till the following Sunday, when we moved on to Sutton, a distance of ten miles.

Sutton, the county-seat of Braxton County, is situated at the base of a high range of hills, on the right bank of the Elk River. The river is crossed by a suspension bridge. Back of the village, and about two hundred feet above it, is a fine table land, with a range of hills for a back ground. This table land was to be approached only by a narrow defile fronting the river, which was easily defended; for a battery properly planted would command every approach for a mile around; besides, the enemy would have to cross the Elk River under fire. Nature had made the position a strong one.

The command, now swelled to about two thousand, encamped on this table land, with the two companies of the First Virginia, and Mack's Battery thrown forward across the river, to keep open the road in front.

The command at once proceeded to erect fortifications, Captain Asper being sent to the front of Captain Mack's position on the Summerville pike, with instructions to select a proper position, after which to erect a fortification commanding the road. Finding a point where the road makes a sharp angle, the captain constructed the work, which, although of no account during the stay of the regiment at Sutton, afterwards proved a good point of defence, when the wreak garrison stationed there was attacked.

The second day of August, the regiment left Sutton, and crossing the river again advanced towards Gauley Bridge. The day was one of the hottest, which, added to the hilly nature of the country, made the advance difficult. Both officers and men fell out of the line, unable to proceed, being so oppressed by the heat, and wearied by the difficult state of the roads. At night we had crossed but one range of hills, and found ourselves in the valley of the Little Birch River, at the foot of Birch Mountain. The following morning we again took up the line of march, reaching the Great Birch River at early twilight, having made but a few miles during the day.

In the afternoon we were joined by our chaplain, who, when we were at Glenville, volunteered to make his way across the country with a message to General Cox. And now, after an absence of more than two weeks, on a perilous message, he was again with us, as fresh and light-hearted as when he left for his daring enterprise. He joined us by the way of Gauley Bridge, having been the first to make the trip. Alone, through a country infested by murderous bands of guerrillas and outlaws, he traveled more than a hundred and fifty miles. Before such deeds of individual heroism, all but the grandeur and magnitude of large battles fade into obscurity. In such single exploits there is a stern, silent daring, that obscures the maddened bravery of a battle-field.

From our chaplain we learned that General Wise had left the valley, burning the bridge over the Gauley River, after crossing his command. He had become frightened and fled. And thus the rebel general, who at Charleston had said: "By G—, the stars and stripes shall never wave over this town again;" on the Wednesday following exclaimed: "The enemy are on us, why the h—ll don't you pack my wagon," and, taking counsel of his fears, fled in dismay.

But let us return to the Seventh Regiment, which we left at its camp near the Big Birch River.

On the morning of August 6, we broke camp, and taking a mountain road arrived at Summerville on the following Wednesday, and encamped on Addison Hill.

The country about Summerville is beautiful in the extreme. It is slightly undulating, having more the appearance of an open country, or in some respects a prairie, than of a valley between two very high ridges. It is sufficiently rolling to hide the mountains which separate the Gauley from the Elk River.

At our former camp we were surrounded by very high, precipitous mountains, with large rocks projecting from their summits. After passing over Powell Mountain, we came into the valley of the Gauley, and after marching a short distance, entirely lost sight of these mountains, over whose rocky crests we had, but a short time before, pursued our slow and weary way.

The contrast between this camp and the one at Big Birch was striking. Here we were reminded of Ohio, our native State, the one which had more attractions for us than any other; while at the latter camp we were constantly reminded of some lonely country, described only by the novelist, and inhabited alone by robbers and outlaws. And yet, upon this mountain region, nature was lavish with her charms. The scenery is grand beyond description. Peak after peak rises, one above another, until the tired eye arrows dim in its endeavor to trace the outlines of the distant mountain, and seeks the beautiful valley, wherein to restore its lost vision.

From the top of Powell's Mountain, the beauty of the scenery is lost sight of in its magnificence. This mountain is the highest in Western Virginia, and commands the finest view. The first time I ascended it was on horseback. When near the top we struck into a bridle path, and, urging our horses into a gallop, we were soon at the base of the projecting rocks. Below, a lovely panorama was open to our view. The side of the mountain, as well as the distant valley, seemed covered with a carpet of green, for both were densely wooded, and in the distance the foliage seemed to blend with the earth. We could see far away into the smaller valleys, and from them trace the ravines, in which the small rivulets make their merry descent from the side of the mountain.

At last, tired of gazing at this beautiful spot in nature's varied scenery, we again urged our horses forward, and, after partially winding around the mountain, we were at the very summit of this mass of earth, rocks, and herbage. We now obtained a view of the opposite side of the mountain from which we had ascended, where beauty expands into sublimity. We could plainly trace the course of the Kanawha River, as on its banks the mountains rise higher, and are more abrupt, while beyond they lessen into hills, and the hills waste into a valley. On the side of the distant hills we could see an occasional farm, with its fields of golden grain ready for the harvest. On the very top of this mountain was living a family.

Notwithstanding their great height, these mountains seemed fertile; and the farms are apparently as good as those in the valley. Springs frequently make their way out of the rocks by the roadside. Water is abundant in any part of these mountains, and springs more common than in the valley.

Near the top of Powell's Mountain, in a kind of basin, is a very fine farm. It is well watered, and well timbered, and quite fertile. The owner lives and flourishes in this quiet home, and, I should say, is quite as happy as if in a city. He has become accustomed to the loneliness of his mountain retreat. The wild scenery has become familiar—its very wildness has a charm. He is content with two visits each year to the distant settlement. It is literally true that "home is where the heart is."

Although this country was well supplied with provisions of every kind, we were not allowed to appropriate any of it. The property of rebels was considered sacred. The authorities were confident of putting down the rebellion through clemency, and, therefore, were both ready and willing to put our soldiers upon half rations, rather than incur the ill-will of traitors. When prisoners were captured, they had what was called an oath of allegiance administered to them, when they were liberated, to again rob and plunder. Occasionally we captured a horse, but it was invariably given up, on the owner taking this oath of allegiance. In view of this moderate method of dealing with them, they risked nothing in prowling about our lines, for they knew that they had only to take this oath to procure an honorable discharge; while the soldiers of the Federal army, if they stole but an onion to make a piece of hard bread palatable, were subjected to the severest punishments. Experience has finally taught us, that hard blows alone will conquer a rebellion, and that to reduce a foe, starvation is quite as good as the bayonet.

I do not know that any one was criminal in this early practice of clemency towards rebels; it seemed rather to be a sort of national weakness, growing out of the universal opinion that the rebellion was, at the greatest, but a weak effort of a deluded people; and that kindness, connected with a show of strength, rather than its exercise, would induce them to return to their former allegiance. It seems to be, at this day, of little consequence why this practice prevailed, or who was responsible for it, as it has almost entirely ceased.

On the 11th day of August, Captain John W. Sprague was given a leave of absence, to go to his home, and was intrusted with dispatches to General Rosecrans. He was to proceed by the way of Sutton and Clarksburg. When near the Big Birch River he was suddenly confronted by a band of rebel cavalry, belonging to Colonel Croghan's Second Georgia Regiment, who was not far from the spot, with his entire command. The mail carrier and two dragoons, who accompanied Captain Sprague, attempted to make their escape; only one, however, was successful; the mail carrier receiving a mortal wound in the attempt.

Securing their prisoners, the rebel cavalry crossed the Gauley River, and were soon out of reach of the Federal forces. An unsuccessful attempt was made to rescue the captors; but infantry, of course, could make but a fruitless attempt at recapturing prisoners in the hands of well-mounted cavalry.

This occurrence spread a gloom over the entire camp. One of the best officers of the regiment had been captured almost within our lines, and borne away to a Southern prison, to endure the privations of prison life, with the fond anticipation of seeing home and friends blighted and withered. To be lost to one's country, within the prison walls of her enemies, when the arm of every true patriot is needed in her defence, is a sad fate.

I am not inclined to blame any one for this unfortunate occurrence, though it may occur to the mind of the reader that good generalship would require that the commandant of a body of troops, in the heart of an enemy's country, should know whether or not the cavalry of that enemy was hanging on his flank and rear. And then, again, it may be urged with truth that the command was almost entirely without cavalry, though it was furnished with one company, as well as one of Snake Hunters, as they were called. The legitimate business in the army of the latter was scouting. They had no other duty to perform.

But however these facts may be, yet true it is that a regiment of the enemy's regular cavalry was not only hanging on the flank of our column, but occupied our rear—thus severing our communications, and cutting off our supplies.

On the 15th day of August we again moved forward, after first sending a company down to Hugh's Ferry. We proceeded through a densely wooded country, abounding in laurel and pau-pau, arriving at Cross Lanes, two and a half miles from Carnifex Ferry, on the Gauley River, in time to prepare our camp before night.

Soon after our arrival Captain Schutte, of Company K, was on picket duty at Carnifex Ferry. During the day the captain, for some unknown reason, conceived the idea of a scout across the river. Selecting fourteen of his men, he crossed over to the opposite bank, and, taking the main road, immediately pushed into the country. The march was made, apparently, without any apprehension of the presence of an enemy; at least, no steps appear to have been taken to prevent a surprise. All went well, however, until the party had made a distance of several miles, when, the first intimation they had of danger, they were fired upon by a party of cavalry, concealed in an adjacent thicket, and all but four of the party killed or wounded—Captain Schutte being wounded mortally. The survivors conveyed him to an old building, and, at his own request, left him. He expired soon after, and was buried on the spot by the rebels. The four men fled towards the river, and, being pursued, took to the woods. One, being separated from his companions, was pursued to the bank of the river, and was only saved by throwing himself into the stream from the projecting rocks. He concealed his body under water, keeping sufficient of his face above to sustain life. He could plainly distinguish the conversation of the rebels, and knew by it that they were in search of him. Here he remained during the day, and at night dragged himself upon the rocks. The next morning, tired and hungry, he floated himself down stream by clinging to the almost perpendicular rocks, until, arriving opposite a house, he was hailed by a woman, to whom he made known his condition. She immediately unfastened a canoe, and, paddling directly across the river to where he was lying, half famished in the water, helped him over its sides, and conveyed him to the other shore. Before they landed, however, the rebels discovered them, and gave the order to "halt." It not being obeyed, they fired, the bullets sinking harmlessly into the water. In a moment the two were lost to view in the pau-pau, which lined the river bank. The woman guided the soldier to her home, where she cared for him during a short illness, which succeeded his escape. When he was sufficiently recovered to join his command, he found the regiment had abandoned Cross Lanes, which had been occupied by the rebel forces. He returned to his former retreat, where he was concealed until the day of the disaster to the Seventh, when, taking advantage of the confusion into which the rebel forces were thrown during the affair, he escaped towards Gauley Bridge, which place he reached in safety the following day.