Part 10

"Well, then, take them and take care of them," said the old Colonel, swallowing hard and trying to keep his eyes from overflowing. "I beg your pardon, gentlemen," he said, turning to us; "but we have been imposed upon so often, and"--here his voice became thick and husky. Turning savagely to Clinton, he exclaimed: "Take them, I tell you, and, d---- you! feed them well, and see that they have some decent clothes. God bless my soul! I--I like to have sent them to the guard house!"

Under the guidance of Captain Clinton, we left the quarters of the Colonel, men once more.

"Out of the jaws of death, Out of the gates of Hell."

Our first care was for our true friends, the Home Guards. We represented to General McCook, commanding the division, the facts of their case, and before leaving Calhoun had the satisfaction of seeing them on their road back to Jasper, with a government wagon loaded with commissary and quartermaster's stores--clothing, arms, and ammunition--escorted by a squad of cavalry. What became of them afterwards, we were never able definitely to ascertain. Spencer informed me some time since, that the Confederates, shortly afterward, came upon them in force and that the most of them were killed. But I most sincerely hope that his information may not have been reliable, and that they are living in peace in the homes they so gallantly defended.

The Home Guards taken care of, the telegraph was brought into requisition, and messages to our homes and friends were soon flashing along the wires.

Then the First Wisconsin Cavalry took possession of us. We were invited into the quarters of Major Henry Harnden. We went in dirty, ragged, and barefooted; we came out, a half hour later, once more clad in the noble livery of the United States army. We were supplied with every necessary in their power to grant us, money not excepted. One day only, we remained with our hospitable entertainers, and then took the first train for Chattanooga.

_The Mystery Solved_

Only one thing marred our perfect happiness--the mysterious disappearance of Vliet and Gough. Had they been with us, our cup of happiness would have been indeed full. What their fate had been, we could only conjecture. It seemed certain that they had not reached our lines; if they had, the newspapers would surely have published the tidings. In imagination we could see them toiling along on their weary way, without compass or map; or perhaps recaptured, and again the inmates of a prison pen, all their toils and struggles for freedom in vain.

We arrived in Chattanooga about dark, and were compelled to lay over until morning, before taking the cars for Nashville. There were two hotels in the place, both of which were crowded with guests. We found a place on the bar-room floor of one, on which to spread our blankets, and were soon soundly sleeping.

Early in the morning a soldier came into our hotel, and commenced to tell of two escaped prisoners who had arrived the evening before, and who were stopping at the other hotel.

We listened to him with bated breath; then we started thither on a run. I am sure that the bystanders must have thought us either intoxicated or crazy. Upon reaching the hotel we forced our way through the crowd that filled the office and bar room, until we reached the counter.

"Where are they?" I pantingly asked.

"Where are who?" asked the landlord.

"The escaped prisoners--the two men that came last night."

"There's a good many came last night. How do you suppose I know which two men you mean?"

"The men we want are escaped prisoners of war--came in last night with a picket guard."

"Oh, yes. Now I know who you mean. Here, Jake, show these gentlemen up to No. 19."

We followed the waiter up to the room. The door opened in answer to our rap, and--Glory Hallelujah! there were Gough and Vliet! To describe the scene is simply impossible. I never was so happy before, and I never expect to be again.

When we had become calm enough to talk, the mystery of our separation was solved. At the time we halted in the brush to investigate the noise made by the hog, Vliet, as the reader will recollect, was followed by Hatcher. It so happened that Hatcher stopped near a white stump. When Hatcher started on, Vliet mistook the white stump for him, and thus did not notice our forward movement or follow us.

After a considerable time, while he waited in silence, he discovered his mistake. The two then started after us, as nearly as they could guess at the direction we had taken, and unfortunately missed us. When we went back to look for them, we must have passed each other in the brush. They had taken a more northerly direction than we followed, and reached our lines at Chattanooga one day after our arrival at Calhoun.

All the members of our party were together once more. Our desperate attempt had been successful. We had traversed over three hundred miles in the heart of the South; pierced the Confederate egg, from shell to shell. Our trials were over, and we were on our way home.

_Again in the Field_

Receiving orders to that effect, I proceeded at once to my home in Wisconsin, made a short visit there, and went thence to Madison. There I obtained an order from the War Department assigning enough drafted men to fill our regiment to the maximum, and with them proceeded to the field, then lying on the Jerusalem Plank Road, near City Point. Here I found many changes. The regiment was commanded by Major Kerr, who was a Lieutenant when I left. Nearly every officer on duty when I left the regiment the previous May, was either promoted, killed, or mustered out. It seemed lonesome.

I presided that night at dress parade. When it was dismissed, there were many anxious inquiries by the men, who wanted to know who "that white-headed old fellow" was, that was commanding "our regiment?" Six months of Southern prison life had turned my head white, and reduced my weight from a hundred-and-seventy-five to a hundred-and-fifteen pounds.

In the following February (1865), General Bragg having been ordered to Washington with a portion of his command, the balance of the Iron Brigade was reorganized by adding to the Sixth and Seventh Wisconsin an independent battalion of the Second Wisconsin, and the Ninety-first New York Heavy Artillery, under command of Colonel Tarbell; the brigade thus numbering about thirty-five hundred men. I was assigned to its command, and had the satisfaction of participating in the last campaign, witnessing the final ending of the War of the Rebellion, at Appomattox, on the ninth of April, 1865. Among the troops laying down arms at this surrender, was the Thirteenth Georgia, the same regiment that had captured me on the fifth day of May, 1864.

_A Belated Report_

During my absence from the army, General Cutler had again been wounded, and placed in command of a recruiting camp in Michigan. I did not have the pleasure of meeting him again until the war was over. Happening, one day, to be in the office of General Lucius Fairchild, then Secretary of State, I found that the latter was temporarily absent in the Governor's office. When he returned and saw me, he seemed somewhat excited, and told me that there was a man in the executive office, inquiring for me.

The reader will recollect that the last order I received from General Cutler was, "Take plenty of orderlies and report frequently."

On entering the Governor's office, I saw General Cutler, who advanced toward me with his hand extended and eyes suspiciously moist. He tried to speak. His usually stern face became more stern, his chin quivered, he grasped my hand more firmly. At length he blurted out: "_You've been a terrible long time reporting!_"

In which opinion I have no doubt the reader will share, applying it to the long story now happily ended.