Part 4

Almost surrounded, no ammunition, many more men than horses, the pike in possession of the foe, it was not a comfortable prospect. Hurrying to the rear we mounted--some without horses, mounted behind a comrade; again another would hold to a stirrup or a horses' tail to keep up with the rapid trot. No one thought of dashing to safety at the expense of a dismounted comrade. A horse was killed throwing its rider against a tree breaking his collar bone. Instantly he was placed behind a comrade and away again. On and on through wood and field, rushing through rail fences, tearing down stone walls with bleeding hands and still behind, and from either side, the rebel yell and hissing bullet.[1]

At last, most welcome sight, the guidons of a cavalry regiment drawn up in line to receive us and check the enemy. Feeling sure of safety for all, we dashed forward, leaving the dismounted men two hundred yards behind. To our surprise and indignation this regiment wheeled into column and trotted away before we reached them leaving us to follow. The abandoned, dismounted men took to a cornfield and many of them escaped. Two privates of Co. D, Lieut. Swayne and some enlisted men of Co. G, were taken prisoners. Later on we reached the regiment standing in line on the pike. From this place we moved slowly toward Nashville until night came on. Going into camp near the road we enjoyed what we had fairly earned--a night's repose without alarm.

As we passed through Nashville to our old camp at Edgefield next morning, every hatless trooper of the previous day's fight will gratefully remember how the merchants in the city came out with arm loads of hats to supply our needs. Late in the evening the brigade was again in the saddle, marching to Gallatin, Tenn., where we remained some days patrolling the river from that place to Carthage to keep the enemy from crossing. While here encamped a detachment of the 9th, under command of Major Wall, was sent up into Kentucky "pressing in" horses and mules. This expedition was through a rich country, comparatively unravaged by the war, and was a pleasure trip to its participants. Not so to the hapless citizens who had horses and mules. Desolation to poultry yards marked the path of the party. A fine lot of animals were secured, among them a number of blooded horses. It is possible that all these did not receive Uncle Sam's trade mark. There was a legend current in the regiment that one of the mules obtained at this time, that by _accident_ was not branded, did excellent service at New Orleans in supplying one company with the needful.[2]

On December the 8th the command returned to Nashville. The morning was lowery and by noon began to rain. A strong northwest wind froze the water as it fell and soon the road was a glare of ice. The horses unshod or smooth shod had but precarious footing. Fortunately no serious accident occurred. The men were chilled and shivering. When the column halted for any purpose the red cedar rails on either side were soon ablaze; but before the cheerful flame could infuse warmth in the chilled fingers the bugle sounded "forward" and the grateful heat was left to waste its comfort on the frosty air. We left a fiery as well as a frozen track that day. Before nightfall we went into camp within two miles of the city. Soon, amid the lurid flame of burning rails, the smoking hot coffee, crisp sow-belly and luscious hard-tack, we forgot the discomfort of our cheerless ride--the song and laugh went round until one by one each voice was hushed and the camp was wrapped in silence.

On the morning of the 9th we moved across the river and went into camp on the west side of Nashville, where we remained until December 15th. While passing through the city Gen. Hatch and staff met the regiment--Col. Jackson joined him and with him held an informal review of the regiment as the column moved along. Our horses--fresh from their "old Kentucky homes"--were in such contrast to the jaded steeds from the front, with which Hatch's command was mounted, that, turning to Jackson, he said: "Colonel, you have a magnificent mount, but my boys will steal half of them before the battle."

"No, General," replied the Colonel, "the boys got these horses for their own use; you can't have one of them; but we don't want to seem small and will undertake to trade a limited number of our Maynards for your Spencers."

On reaching camp, an order was issued doubling the stable guard, and relieving from camp duty for a week any soldier who would secure a Spencer carbine. No horse was lost, a dozen or two Spencers were reported. These were organized for special service, and the zeal and enterprise developed in securing them had ample play during the stormy days which followed. It is possible that some members of this squad would have willingly resigned their prospects for distinction with the Spencer, for the more modest and less hazardous companionship of the Maynard.

The camp was in an open field with no tree, shrub or grass, or other covering than the sleet which fell and formed from day to day. It was a sloppy, slippery time. The discomfort of the situation was somewhat alleviated by remembering that the Johnnies were more unhappy than we. They had not wherewith to cover their nakedness and depended for food on such limited supplies as could be secured from the country. We were well fed and clothed.

On the morning of the 15th, the ice being melted, the regiment was in the saddle soon after daylight. Moving a short distance to the right we halted, waiting for McArthur's division to clear the way for our passage to the position assigned our division on the right of Smith's Corps.

About 8 o'clock A. M. the booming of the cannon on the left announced the opening of the battle. For an hour the fight seemed to remain in one place, but gradually the forces became engaged along the front, reaching a point to the right of our position. The cannons roared and thundered, and the rattle of small arms could be distinctly heard, while a dense smoke rolled up from the field which was obscured from our view by an intervening ridge. To get out of the ranks and climb this ridge to see how a great battle looked was a common impulse--an impulse too strong for those whose curiosity was stronger than their sense of duty. Two privates of one company, thus straying away, were discovered by one of Hammond's aids, who promptly placed them and their company commander under arrest. This officer[3] later in the day approached the General and obtained permission to lead his company in the coming fight, which he did so gallantly that he never heard any more about the arrest.

Two officers of another company likewise climbed the ridge and saw the belching of the cannon, the bursting of the shells, the great lanes torn through the ranks of blue, which, closing up, moved steadily toward the foe. It was a grand though awful sight. As one, sickening, turned away, he discovered that the regiment had moved away. Informing his companion, they descended the hill and quickly following were, fortunately for their credit, not discovered, and regained their place in the column.

The division now reached its place on the extreme right--the first brigade in reserve within the bend of the river. In line facing the front we sat on our horses awaiting results. The remainder of the division advanced toward the enemy and were soon hid from our view by the fog and smoke of battle. Here it was that the battery on the hill above and beyond the rebel advance opened on us with shell--all will remember this--and none forget the peculiar shrinking sensation with which we heard the first shell that came shrieking over our heads and bursting in our rear. Here it was, too, that, as the smoke lifted, we saw our troops swarm up the distant hill, and, after a short struggle in the fort, raise the stars and stripes above the works from whose guns had so recently come to us such unwelcome greeting. This redoubt was carried by Coons' Cavalry (dismounted), and two brigades of Smith's Corps. The same troop rushed gallantly on and soon carried another fort. The mounted men rushed forward and swept Chalmer's Cavalry back, capturing his headquarters, books and papers. The Confederate left was completely broken and driven back by the cavalry corps. Night stopped the pursuit.

The first brigade being in reserve, took no part in this day's fight, but followed closely the advance of our victorious fellow-cavalrymen, seeing on every side the evidences of the battle we had not helped to win. We reached the six-mile post on the Charlotte Pike; thence marching up Richland Creek three miles, bivouacked on Granny White Pike. Two companies, (L and another), going on picket, captured a number of prisoners during the night.

On the morning of the 16th, the first brigade returned to the Hillsboro' Pike. The 9th was detailed to support the 14th Ohio Battery in an attack on the rebel left and rear. Dismounted--a detail for skirmishers was made, including the "Spencer Squad." As they disappeared in the wood we followed. Soon a rattling volley, followed by the articulate venom of single shots, warned us that we were approaching the enemy. Reaching a position on a ridge thinly covered with trees, the guns were unlimbered, placed in position, and for two hours a furious duel raged between this and an opposing battery on the ridge a half mile away. The wooded valley intervening was alive with skirmishers, and the continuous dropping shots showed that they were hotly disputing possession. The occasional bringing in of the dead and wounded from the line attested the character of the struggle. The boys were evidently not in fun. The regiment lay in front of the guns which fired over us. This of itself was sufficiently exhilarating to a nervous man, but when the shells of the opposing battery came hustling through the air, bursting in front, above and behind us, cutting the branches above us or throwing the dirt over us, every man became a stoic and waited with calmness the missile which should square his account.

Strangely enough no casualty occurred in the line. Some annoyance was felt from a house on the left front occupied by sharp-shooters. A small squad, by permission, stole down upon them unobserved. Making a rush for the house the gray-backs went out of the back door as the boys went in at the front. The family were at breakfast. One of the boys sat down and had a hearty lunch, while the others searched the house from cellar to garret. Notifying the owner that another shot from the house would meet with response from the cannon, the boys returned and took their place in line.

And still the cannonade kept up. Shells passing overhead reached the horses in the rear, carrying consternation to the boys who were holding them. One came up to the line to get permission to trade places with one of the boys, saying if he had to be killed he preferred to die as a soldier, and not as a hostler.

Col. Jackson rode a white horse and, with his orderlies, remained mounted during this action. Wherever this horse was the shells were thickest. Upon being asked why he rode this horse he said that in battle no one hit what he shot at. So he rode this horse for safety. The Colonel held a fairly good place in the affections of his men, but none cared to cultivate any closer relations with him on this occasion. It was two sad-eyed orderlies who followed him up and down the line these two solemn hours.

The rebel battery ceasing to return our fire, we returned to our horses and about noon moved to the Cranny White Pike. Crossing it, we dismounted and climbed a hill--the remainder of the brigade going into line on our left. As we went into position the brass band of a regiment on our immediate left was playing a melancholy piece--doubtless expressing the feelings of the musicians, but certainly not inciting an appetite for battle in the hearers.

For some hours we lay upon this hill exchanging shots, occasionally, with an unseen foe, without loss. The 10th Indiana on our left lost some killed and wounded. About 4 P. M. Knipe ordered an advance of the whole division. The 9th did not wait, but, springing to their feet, dashed eagerly down the hill and away after the enemy, who did not stand upon the order of their going, but went at once.

Strict orders had been given to reserve fire until we should get in short range, but some nervous comrade, with patriotism at his finger ends, discharged his gun and at once a line of fire ran down the ranks. An effort to stop the shooting was made without avail. Company K had a man killed; a number were slightly wounded. Two Confederates were seriously wounded in or near a house at the base of the hill, where we discontinued the pursuit.

This could scarcely be dignified by the name of "a charge," as the enemy practically made no resistance. With fear to lend them speed they were further from us at the end of the race than upon the start. The day was damp and cold; many had on overcoats and poncho blankets. The haste with which we obeyed the order to advance did not give them time to divest themselves of extra clothing. The charge was along through a corn-field a foot deep in mud, intersected by several ditches and washouts, four to six feet deep, and from three to ten feet wide. Cavalry boots and other impediments made this a decidedly warm trip.

The rebels were now evidently badly whipped, and if the cavalry corps had now been mounted we could certainly have cut off the retreat by the Franklin road and practically bagged the entire game. By the time the horses could be brought up night had come and we went into camp at the base of the hill, from which the enemy had given us a parting shot at 5 o'clock.

The rebel army at the close of the fight on the 16th were completely whipped; the infantry with which the cavalry corps had contended were a demoralized and panic-stricken mob. Forrest, with his main body of cavalry, had not been present during the battle. Two brigades had reached the field on the evening of the 16th, and, holding the passes through the Brentwood hills, from the Granny White Pike, enabled the panic-stricken horde to reach the Franklin Pike and cross Little Harpeth. Night and Forrest's cavalry alone saved Hood's army from total capture. A strong rear guard of cavalry was formed to cover the retreat of the broken rebel columns, and, although the battle was won our work was but fairly begun. About midnight a heavy rain set in which continued at intervals for some days following.

By the early dawn the First Brigade was in the saddle en route for the Franklin Pike, the 19th Pennsylvania in advance, supported by the 10th Indiana. On reaching the pike the whole command started down toward Franklin at a swinging trot. Soon striking the enemy they gave way before the impetuosity of the advance and were rapidly driven back, losing many prisoners. At Hollow Tree Gap a considerable body of infantry were strongly posted, who repulsed the two regiments in front with the loss of 22 killed and wounded and 63 prisoners, principally from the 10th Indiana. To offset this, the 10th had captured and brought off the field two Colonels, two Lieutenant-Colonels, one Major and more than one hundred enlisted men. The 9th, being in the rear, had all the morning seen the evidences of the demoralization of the enemy. The guns and other equipments strewn along the road, the apparent abandonment of everything that impeded their flight, every door-yard filled with illy-clad shivering prisoners, had lead us to the conclusion that we had "a walk over." Hollow Tree Gap undeceived us.

After repulsing our advance the enemy fell back. The 9th Indiana was ordered up and took the advance. As we moved through the Gap we saw the saddest sight of the campaign. A trooper lay beside the road gasping his life away, and near him with a ghastly wound in his breast, lay dead the little curly-headed, blue-eyed boy, Duane A. Lewis, Co. B., sixteen years old, the General's orderly, whose bright and joyous face and fearless innocence had endeared him to the heart of every soldier in the brigade. The pitiless rain fell upon his upturned childish face; his eyes were open, but their light had gone out forever.

Gen. Knipe said to Hammond: "Take your command and go to Franklin; don't skirmish with the enemy three minutes, but attack him where found and drive him through the town."

The rain was gently falling, the heavy fog of early morning was somewhat dissipated, yet so dense that objects could not be distinctly seen at a distance. With a long trot we swept down the pike against a shadowy foe--ourselves but shadows. The depressing weather and the sad scene just passed made the lightest heart grow heavier as we swept along. Suddenly from the woods on the left a body of Confederate horse sprang into the road in front of us, and in a ghostly gallop lead the way to their lines.

Debouching into the open near Franklin, the cannon from the fort opened on us with shell. The head of the column turned to the right a short distance and wheeled into line--the centre and left coming on "front into line." Hammond being at the head of the column gave the command to charge before the line was barely formed. The right sprang forward at the command and was rapidly followed by the center. The left, under Capt. Hobson, was not yet in line and did not hear the command. Hammond again shouted "charge!" Hobson was looking after the alignment and did not hear the command. Hammond galloped to him and said: "You cowardly s-- of a b--ch! why don't you charge?" Hobson raised himself in the stirrups and said: "Boys, we will show who are cowards! Forward! March! Trot! Charge!!" and lead the boys right up to the fort, where he was shot through the heart.[4] A stone wall on the left caused them to crowd on the centre and against the fort. The right also was forced to press in on the centre, by reason of a nursery, which, for horses, was practically impenetrable. The centre charged right down the open grounds on the left of the pike.

Lieut. Watts, of Company I, fell dead on the pike at the head of Company G. Lieut. Duvall, who lead Company H, was shot in the breast--a wound which hastened his death, occurring in 1880.

The Confederates had torn down the telegraph wire and, driving posts at intervals, had encircled the fort with it. This was unseen by the assaulting party until their horses tumbled over it. Encumbered by the horses who were useless in attacking a fort, impeded by a stone wall and wire-fence, under an awful fire of grape and canister and musketry at short range, the regiment fell back in disorder, but not without bringing off two stands of colors and over two hundred prisoners. These captures were made by individual prowess, and were not the result of concerted action.

Falling back perhaps two hundred yards from the fort and partially sheltered from the shells and musket balls by a slight depression in the plain, Acting Adjutant Comstock, under orders from the Colonel, planted the regimental colors, and the line was soon formed again. This was done quickly and well under fire. The shells were passing overhead and bursting threw the fragments among the men in a distressingly familiar way.

Lieut. Burroughs, of Company C, had been disabled in the charge, and, as the men from the left were crossing the pike to form on the colors, he asked for assistance to remount his horse, which was standing near. Two men dismounted to assist him, but just then a fragment from a bursting shell tore away part of his skull. He was carried to the rear in a dying condition.

As the same party were hastening to the right, as before mentioned, a shell passed through two horses, taking off the leg of one of the riders. Another horse had his head taken off as with a broad-axe. In the charge a horse was struck full in the breast with a cannon ball, passing through and disemboweling him. The rider went headlong in the mud, where he lay stunned until the fight was over. The charge was unwisely ordered, but bravely and brilliantly executed. To ride down in the face of a withering fire on a fort inaccessible to cavalry, defended by artillery and infantry, greatly outnumbering the attacking force, was apparently a ride to death. That it was not so we must thank Him without whose notice no sparrow falls to the ground. No one faltered; none turned back until all that could be done was accomplished. Bravely as this was done, it did not show forth that true courage, born of moral worth and a high sense of duty, as did the prompt rallying of the broken companies, and the speedy reforming of the line, under fire, and the patient waiting for orders among the bursting shells. This was the true touchstone of our greatness as a regiment, and nobly did the boys stand the test.

In his report, dated December 27th, 1864, Gen. Hammond, of this action, says:

"The enemy, having retreated, we followed rapidly, the 9th Indiana in advance, to near Franklin, and drove the enemy across the river into town, capturing, it is reported, two stands of colors and near two hundred prisoners. In this charge we lost three fine officers, among whom was Capt. Hobson--9th Indiana Cavalry,--a man remarkable for the prompt discharge of his duties, and his bravery. The 9th Indiana was supported by the 10th Indiana and the 4th Tennessee. But the first regiment deserved the principal credit of the charge and success."

For the regiment, whose heroism converted his blunder into a glorious achievement, this praise is scant enough. For the man, at whom he had but a few minutes before his death, hurled the most opprobrious epithet that can be applied to the brave man who loves his mother, or reveres her memory, this recognition comes too late.

The 4th Tennessee took the advance and pushed over the river, through the town and out on the Lewisburg Pike, followed by the brigade. Flanking the enemy out of a position between this and the Columbia Pike, we moved across to this latter road, and leisurely moved down toward Columbia. On either side of us great columns of cavalry were moving through the fields in parallel lines. The entire cavalry corps was in sight. The whole face of the country seemed covered with the mighty host.

"'T were worth ten years of peaceful life, One glance at their array."

A mile to the front, a range of heavily wooded hills at right angles to the pike, rose abruptly from the plain. On the brow of this hill a battery in the road opened on us with shell. The first shell, passing over, bursted beyond our rear; another and another followed. The stragglers felt an impulse of valor unfelt before, and made vigorous efforts to get to the front. The pace of the command visibly quickened--broke into a trot, and soon were galloping, while still above us shrieked the shells. Alas! not all! Those in the rear could see the column, opening and closing at frequent intervals, as the horsemen passed on either side of the dead and wounded men and horses who had fallen.

Reaching a break in the wall which fenced in the right side of the road, the head of the column, turning, dashed into the field on the right. Dismounting at the edge of the woods, which was also the base of the hill, we advanced upon the enemy, and drove him from his position. It was said that in this action the 4th Regulars, lead by Knipe in person, went into line, without dismounting, charged the enemy, and, after a sharp hand to hand fight, drove him in confusion from the field.