Читать книгу Notes of a Private - John Milton Hubbard - Страница 7

Table of Contents

When we had somewhat recovered from the fatigue and demoralization incident to the Armstrong raid, four companies of the Seventh Tennessee and four of the First Mississippi were ordered to march under Lieutenant Colonel F. A. Montgomery of the latter regiment in the direction of Hernando, Miss. Colonel Grierson with his Sixth Illinois Cavalry was making a scout from Memphis, and the eight companies were to watch his movements. I remember we passed down through Byhalia and Cockrum and across Coldwater river on the road towards Hernando. Then turning north and marching leisurely along we recrossed the Coldwater at Holloway’s bridge, quite a rude affair, about ten miles southwest of Byhalia. The men seemed to think that we were only making one of our usual marches for practice. But when we had reached the foothills on the east side, there was a commotion in the ranks and we were ordered to countermarch, while the word passed down the line that Grierson was in our rear. He had crossed the bridge and was following us. In a few minutes the whole command was in the greatest excitement. As soon as the immediate presence of the enemy was discovered, a company of the Seventh Regiment was thrown front into line, but, unfortunately, very near the enemy, who had advanced on foot and were well concealed in the heavy timber. There was brisk firing from the Federal line, which portended certain death to the men and horses of our front company. There was a bolt to the rear, and what is known to the participants as the Coldwater stampede was on. Nothing could surpass it in excitement. The other companies had been drawn up by company front with Company E next in position to the one so near the enemy. When the latter had reached our front, it had acquired about sufficient momentum to dash through on their excited horses, which seemed to have gotten beyond the control of their riders. The Federals saw their opportunity and promptly advanced, delivering a galling fire as they did so. The demoralization was imparted from man to man and the scare from horse to horse till it became a rout. Some of the men of Company E spoke encouraging words to one another, when they saw what was coming, and denounced the retreat as cowardly. In some, this was no doubt a manifestation of inborn bravery, in others, of self-esteem or personal pride. From whatever motive, it was a creditable act, for it was one of those occasions when a man can take his own measure to see whether or not he is a brave soldier, or is prompted by other impulses. But however much inclined some were to stand firm, it was only a moment before all were borne to the rear. Concert of action was impossible, and those who at first resolved to resist, were very soon getting away with those who seemed to be making the best time. The command did not exactly take to the woods, but there was no delay in crossing a stout fence which put us into a corn field where the fall crop of crabgrass seemed to be the rankest I had ever seen. We happened to be going in the direction of the rows or we would have played havoc with the crop. As it was, we trampled great paths through the crabgrass and spoiled a fine lot of hay. Everybody seemed willing to halt when we got on the other side and had an open field between us and the enemy. The command was reorganized with dispatch, after which there were various expressions as to the cause of the disaster. Smarting with shame and mortification, a great majority of the detachment would then and there have put up the fight of their lives, had they been coolly led into action. Clearly, we had been outgeneraled by one of the most alert of Federal officers, the first on his side to gain a reputation as a bold raider.

How vividly I recall my own feelings and those expressed by others, when we retired from the scene of the affair just related! Everybody had some incident of the disaster to relate, and the usual funny things were said about how the boys got over that first fence and through that cornfield, though it did look like smiling at a funeral.

When the excitement was at its height and Grierson’s men were yelling like demons turned loose, Sherrill Tisdale’s horse was running madly to the rear with his rider trying to keep himself in the saddle by holding desperately to the mane. Tisdale fell to the ground and was captured, but his fine young horse, afterward ridden by the late Emmett Hughes, escaped and would have carried his owner to safety.

John Allen, a brother of Dr. Joe Allen, killed only a few days before at Briton’s Lane, was shot through the foot before our line was broken. He was riding a splendid mule which carried him out of danger by leaping two big logs, lying one upon the other. Joe and John Allen with their brother Thompson, who served in another regiment, were, like their father, Long John Allen, of Whiteville, noted for their sprightly intellectuality, physical and moral courage and height. John used to turn his six feet four inches to an amusing account when he encountered a citizen with whom he wished to swap horses. Putting his hand to his right ear he would ask his new acquaintance to talk very loud, intimating that he was very deaf. “Old Innocent,” usually a man of short stature as compared with John’s, who had, on the quiet, plenty of confidence in his own ability as a judge of horseflesh, would tiptoe to John and raise his voice to a high key. John, like a born actor, would turn his right eye down on his unsuspecting subject while he winked with his left to his audience. John Allen’s penchant for horse trading caused him sometimes to be mounted on a mule.

Company E now knew that there was work to be done in the immediate future. The Federals had garrisoned many places on the Memphis and Charleston Railroad, and were making incursions into Mississippi. Steps were taken to unite the armies of Price and Van Dorn for the purpose of making an attack on Corinth where General Rosecrans was posted. As preliminary to this attack, Colonel W. H. Jackson was ordered to take his own and the First Mississippi Cavalry under Pinson and make a reconnoisance in the direction of Corinth. At Davis’ bridge on Big Hatchie river Jackson somewhat unexpectedly came upon Ingersoll’s Eleventh Illinois Cavalry and some regulars just going into camp. The vidette, who had just taken post, was taken in and the rest was easy. Pinson in front charged across the bridge and into the camp of the enemy, who were largely engaged in gathering corn from a field to the right of the road, while the Seventh Tennessee brought up the rear and waked the echoes with the rebel yell. The firing was promiscuous, but there were few casualties. Pinson was the only Confederate wounded. He manifested the spirit and courage of the hero, as we bore him to the Davis residence on a cot secured for the purpose. He had very good reason to think that the ball had penetrated the intestines, but he, nevertheless, spoke cheerfully to anxious enquirers as “boys,” and said that it was only “a small matter” and that he “was all right.” Happily he was.

The spoils were great, considering the few minutes the battle lasted, consisting of one hundred and eighty fine Illinois horses with their accoutrements and arms. We captured only fifty or sixty prisoners, as it was just at nightfall, and most of the enemy took refuge in the timber. I always thought that those fine horses and accoutrements should have been distributed among the boys where most needed and their inferior articles taken up. This might have been done under a board of survey in such a way as not only to increase the efficiency of the command, but also to stimulate it for future enterprises. But we didn’t get a halter. All went to supply the demands of other commands. There was one particularly fine horse in the captured lot which had been thoroughly trained and was evidently something of a pet, as we say, of his former owner. Jim Weatherly of Somerville, was not long in discovering his fine points and “smart tricks,” and soon had him “going his way.” The beautiful brown with two white feet had to be turned in, and Weatherly was disconsolate. Thereafter, when any legitimate capture fell in the way of the boys, mum was the word. It was now September, 1862, and Price and Van Dorn were ready to move on Corinth. This movement was made from Ripley, Miss., in two divisions commanded by Price and Lovell, with Van Dorn as chief. The army was well equipped, well fed and in fine spirits. It had not rained for many weeks, and the dusty roads and scarcity of water made the marches, which were necessary to effect the concentration of the two armies, severe ones for all branches of the service. But the prospect of making a successful assault on the works at Corinth and capturing Rosecrans and his army buoyed up the spirits of the soldiers. Ten miles out on the Chiwalla hills the cavalry encountered a small Federal force which was easily swept back. Company A of the Seventh Tennessee, was active in this affair as Jackson’s escort and lost the first man killed on the expedition. I was with a detachment of Company E that had been ordered forward and deployed as skirmishers. I came upon the corpse of the soldier, which had, for the moment, been left where he had fallen. It was the body of John Young of Memphis. This was the first day of October, 1862. The next day was spent in getting the proper dispositions made for the assault. On the 3rd, the earth seemed to tremble with the thunder of artillery and the roar of small arms. It was a struggle to the death in which both sides lost heavily. The position had been rendered strong by heavy earthworks and much of the front had been covered by fallen timber, which made the approach to the main works difficult. All that day it went well with the Confederates, though the killed and wounded were numerous. As the cavalry took no part in the main battle, we could see pretty well what was going on in the rear. There it was a bloody spectacle as the killed and wounded were borne back for treatment and burial. That was the first time for me to see our poor fellows wrapped in their blankets and buried in shallow trenches. The horror of it! Even on the morning of the fourth, those of us in the rear thought that all was well in front, for we had heard that Price, who was fighting on the north of the railroad, had gone over the heavy works and into the town. And so he had, but the brave men under Lovell on the right under the terrible fire of the Federals had failed to make a successful assault. Suddenly there was a calm, which we could not understand. But it soon flashed upon us that we were beaten, and our army was in full retreat. During the previous night McPherson’s division from Jackson had re-enforced Rosecrans and was ready to press the retreating Confederates. Hurlburt’s division, too, was marching from Bolivar to intercept the retreating column. There was now likely to be some lively work for the cavalry. When we reached Davis’ bridge, the scene of the affair heretofore related, Hurlburt was there to dispute our passage. With McPherson in our rear we were apparently “in a box.” Shrewd generalship on the part of the Federals would have captured our whole army. Van Dorn boldly attacked Hurlburt at the bridge, while his trains were ordered to take the only road of escape—that up Hatchie river. The cavalry preceded the trains, and, crossing the river, attacked Hurlburt in his rear. For several hours there were two Federal and two Confederate forces engaged and one of each fronting two ways. Van Dorn drew off at the proper time and followed his trains. The Federals were not disposed to follow, as good generalship would have dictated, for our troops, worn out and hungry, could have made but a feeble resistance. The streams had no water in them and our soldiers drank the wells dry. When a beef was killed the hungry men were cutting the flesh from the carcass before the hide was off. In the midst of this distress, I had my only sight of Sterling Price. He was riding at the head of a small escort and apparently in deepest thought. He had left many of the brave men whom he loved dead on the field of Corinth. He was the idol of his men, a great Missourian and a good man. But the result at Corinth had made him sad. The disaster brought other troubles in its train.

The morale of the army was not good, the citizens were discouraged and many a soldier gave up the fight and went to his home within the Federal lines. We retired to the vicinity of Holly Springs.