Part 10

"I wrote you a few days ago, just as I was starting on a reconnoissance toward Bristol. We found no enemy nor heard of any this side of Abingdon, Virginia, in any force. We had a very disagreeable march, raining most of the time, very hard on both men and horses. Our campaigning has been very hard and tiresome, though I have stood it myself very well, in fact better than if we had less active duty; but it has tried the mettle of our brigade. We have run our horses nearly down, a large number of the men are dismounted, and more than half of the rest have horses that will not stand a march of any length. The Sixty-fifth came out with eight hundred and fifty men; there are now in camp about six hundred. The marching, rain storms, short rations, and especially the whistling of bullets and ball have driven a number of our officers out of the service.

"But I fear the worst of our campaigning is yet to come. It is becoming a serious question how we are to sustain our army in East Tennessee this winter. There is enough bread and meat, but the men have no winter clothing, and unless it comes soon it cannot get over the mountains. Winter will soon be upon us, with muddy roads and swollen rivers. We have just started a train of wagons from our division over to Kentucky for clothing and supplies, but I do not expect to see it short of six weeks, if ever. We had been hoping to get railroad communication open by way of Chattanooga, but the disaster to Rosecrans has at least postponed that. Just now I am anxious to get over into North Carolina with my brigade, but military movements are very uncertain and most likely I shall be disappointed."

On the 29th of October I wrote again:--

"General Shackelford had a report of the advance on us of an army of eighteen thousand and out of due precaution ordered us to fall back eighteen miles, but this morning matters look as if we ran too soon from an invisible enemy. It will not surprise me if we are ordered back to our old camp at Jonesboro. It will suit me very well if we are, for I may then have a chance to make my contemplated raid over the mountains into North Carolina. I am anxious to get over there to see the people. The trip would take us through the Blue Ridge."

I quote from a letter of November 1:--

"I wrote in my last how we got down here, how we ran from Sancho Panza's windmills. We are still here. We had orders to march and were all ready an hour before daylight yesterday morning, when the orders came countermanding the marching. We were to go back to Jonesboro. We are having a delightful day and a very quiet and most welcome Sabbath. I have been reading 'The Words and Mind of Jesus,' and I got hold of an 'Independent,' which was quite a treat, as I don't often see any religious paper here. I went over to the house of Mr. Henderson (the leading citizen of this place) and found he had quite a good religious library; plenty of Presbyterian works. I told him he appeared to be sound religiously, if not politically; he is considerable of a rebel.

"We have been enjoying our rest of late very much, and if we were not stirred out every little while with reports of large rebel forces right upon us, we could get more real enjoyment out of it. This evening a citizen (a _reliable_ one, of course) reports the enemy advancing in force. To-morrow an equally reliable and _intelligent_ one will know that there are none this side of the Holston River. If Willie were out here he would see a great deal more about soldiering than he used to see at Henderson."

In my letter of November 8 I give an account of a bold dash of the rebels to Rogersville, which routed a Federal force stationed there, and captured four hundred and four guns:--

"General Wilcox, who was in command in upper Tennessee, when he got the report of the fight from the scared fugitives, became alarmed for fear the enemy would get in our rear, and he caused a general retreat of the whole army. Our cavalry and all marched all Friday night and till late in the morning of Saturday, and abandoned the whole country for eighteen miles below Greenville, thus giving up all we had gained. And all without reason, for as it turned out while we were marching all night one way the rebels were retreating with their booty and prisoners the other! Where we will go next I do not know, but I hope right back and occupy the country clear up to the Virginia line. We can do it without difficulty.

"The whole cavalry force of Burnside's army has been formed into a cavalry corps and placed in command of General Shackelford. The corps is composed of two divisions. Our brigade is in the Second Division. It would be commanded by Colonel Carter, if present, but he may be absent for some weeks, and I have been assigned to the command of this division. It will be a very nice command and quite complimentary to me."

I may state that I remained in command of this division of cavalry during the remainder of my service in Tennessee. I extract from my letter of November 13:--

"Major Brown and nine men of the Sixty-fifth are about leaving for a recruiting service in Indiana, and I send this letter by him. I told Major Brown that I did not know that I could say I wished (as he) that I too was going home, but I could say with emphasis that I wished the war was over and that I was going home to return no more. This going home to stay a week or two and then come back, tear away from home and all its dear attachments, is worse than the first departure. I can't say that when the campaign is pretty well over I may not apply for a leave of absence; but when I think of the parting from home again and the long muddy winter ride across the mountains, I begin to balance the matter. When I come home I want it to be my last 'leave.' When shall that be? I am too great a lover of my little wife, my darling children, and my happy home to make a good soldier, at least a professional soldier. How sweetly you wrote in your last letter of our little Alice praying her evening prayer for her absent papa. I believe He who noticeth the fall of a sparrow will hear and answer the prayer of innocence and childhood, and bring me home in safety that I may be the guardian of our dear family."

My letter of November 14 reports an unfavorable change in the situation in East Tennessee. General Bragg commanding the rebel forces in front of Chattanooga, feeling that he had Rosecrans's army safely besieged, dispatched Longstreet, one of the ablest of the Confederate generals, with his army corps to capture or drive out Burnside. It is to that situation my letter refers:--

"The intelligence this afternoon from Knoxville was rather ominous of evil to us. General Wilcox telegraphs me that the enemy have forced the right bank of the river below Loudon, that General Burnside had gone down to-day, and that if the enemy were too strong for our forces there we would have to look out for a retreat to the gaps in the Cumberland Mountains. Our line of march would be to Cumberland Gap, and I am notified that I with my division will have the important work of guarding the approaches to this route, down the valleys of the Holston, Clinch, and Powell Rivers, and also keeping open the communication with General Burnside on our right to Knoxville. We will know more definitely to-night or to-morrow.

"I hope and pray that we may not be driven to that dire necessity. In proportion as our joy was great in the occupation of this country would our regrets be deep at being compelled to abandon it. But I have hope that to-morrow will bring the welcome intelligence that our army below has driven the enemy back over the river. It would be with a sad and heavy heart that I turned my back upon the loyal people of East Tennessee. I have confidence that God does not will it so."

When my next letter November 22 was written from Tazewell, on the route to Cumberland Gap, Burnside had been besieged for a week by Longstreet:--

"We are lying quiet here, just out of hearing of the fighting that is raging at Knoxville. Our messengers from Knoxville report Burnside holding out heroically. I have little time to write and less inclination, even to my dear wife. I am heart-sick and gloomy, though not discouraged. General Burnside, the best man of the generals I know, and a gallant army have been beleaguered at Knoxville for a week, and are still fighting manfully. We are almost powerless to do him any good, but I have asked General Wilcox to let me take my cavalry and support me at the fords of Clinch River with his infantry, and I would make at least one vigorous effort to break the rebel lines and raise the siege. He is at the Gap. General Burnside ordered him to look out for his line of retreat and at all events to hold Cumberland Gap. This he is in a position to do."

I wrote the 26th from Cumberland Gap, where I had come to try to get horses:--

"We have no news from General Burnside direct since the 23d, when he said he could hold out ten days, that his position was a strong one, and we are hopeful of his success for Grant at Chattanooga will push vigorously against Bragg. I will be off in the morning to harass the enemy. I shall make my headquarters at Tazewell, and send my old brigade over Clinch River toward Knoxville to stir up the enemy a little, and try to divert them from Burnside. Our cavalry is in such wretched condition it is almost impossible to do anything, the horses worn out, without shoes, and with very little forage. I regret it exceedingly when so much is expected of us and needed. General Wilcox is ordered to keep his infantry near the Gap and send my cavalry out toward the enemy to gather information and annoy them."

I wrote again on the 29th when we had just heard of Grant's victory at Chattanooga, but were without information of the gallant defense of Fort Stevens and the bloody repulse of the rebels at Knoxville:--

"We have no news except the glorious victory of Grant's army, and we are hoping to see its effect in the deliverance of Burnside. The enemy seek to starve him into a surrender. I sent out yesterday my old brigade to go down toward Knoxville and feel out the enemy. I am getting a little anxious about them as there was cannonading heard below and I have had nothing from them since they left. It would be a serious affair for me to have my old brigade captured.

"We are having rather a hard time to live, subsisting entirely upon the country. Our cavalry get along better than the infantry; the latter have been for days without flour or meal. Twenty-five cents have been refused for a cup full of corn. Parched corn is a luxury. But we are hoping for better times in a few days. The men bear it manfully."

In my letter of December 4, in acknowledging receipt of a late letter from my wife, I reply:--

"I wish very much I could be at home to enjoy with you the entertainments you write about, but I shall have to forego all these pleasures, and live on corn-bread and pork, cold nights, muddy roads, and occasional skirmishing. I don't know when I can promise you to come home, but not while the enemy is before us, as now. I think a few days hence will see them driven away. I mentioned in my last letter sending the Second Brigade down to the vicinity of Knoxville. They were attacked by the whole of Longstreet's cavalry and pressed back. They gave the enemy a severe fight, killing and wounding a considerable number of them. Our losses were a few taken prisoners, four killed and thirty wounded. Our men did bravely. My whole division will try it again to-morrow. We expect Sherman, who was sent up by Grant after his victory to relieve Burnside, will reach Knoxville to-morrow, when if Longstreet has not retreated there must be a severe battle. We want to be near at hand with our cavalry. I would have been there two or three days ago with my whole division, but have been constantly held back by General Wilcox."

Sometime before the siege of Knoxville General Burnside had asked to be relieved of the command of the department, and General John G. Foster (of New Hampshire) of the Eastern army had been appointed to succeed him. He arrived at my headquarters while the siege was in progress. In this letter writing about a leave to come home, I refer to General Foster:--

"If matters quiet down here there is a probability that I may come this winter, but nothing certain; a man in the army can't go when he pleases. If General Burnside had remained, I think I would have had no difficulty, but it is uncertain as to General Foster, how strict he will be. I have been with him here for three or four days, being frequently consulted by him as to movements, the country, etc., and have been quite intimate at his headquarters. He is quite a Yankee and not so agreeable in his manners as Burnside, but withal he may make a good commander. But there is no man like Burnside for this department with his soldiers. I especially will regret his leaving."

The day after I wrote my last letter, Longstreet retreated from Knoxville (December 5) up the valley toward the Virginia line, and the next day (the 6th) General Sherman reached Knoxville. On December 10 I wrote:--

"Bean Station, where we are now camped, you will find on most maps of Tennessee. It is ten miles from Morristown on the road to Cumberland Gap, just at the foot of the Clinch mountains, forty-two miles from Knoxville. We have followed the enemy this far up from Knoxville. From Tazewell I joined the Second Brigade near Knoxville. Colonel Graham of that brigade reported that an encampment of the enemy was over the mountain about five miles, so I sent him over, had a skirmish, captured a captain, several prisoners, and seventy-five horses, and drove them clear over Clinch Mountain. Since then we have followed the enemy in their retreat, skirmishing with their rear guard all the way. I doubt whether we shall push the enemy much farther, as it will be difficult to get supplies."

The siege of Knoxville was one of the most gallant events on the Federal side during the Civil War. Burnside with an inferior force successfully sustained a siege of twenty days, resisting the assaults of the enemy with comparatively small losses, endured short rations, and by the heroism of his command saved East Tennessee to the Union. The result gave great joy to all loyal men, and President Lincoln issued a proclamation, calling on the people "to render special homage to Almighty God for this great advancement of the National cause," and Congress thanked Burnside and his army. General Grant in his "Memoirs" says: "The safety of Burnside's army and the loyal people of East Tennessee had been the subject of much anxiety to the President, and he was telegraphing me daily, almost hourly, to 'remember Burnside,' 'do something for Burnside,' and other appeals of like tenor." In my letter of December 10, I say: "Burnside goes out of this Department with the admiration of the whole army. His defense of Knoxville was glorious, and his goodness of heart and purity of character endear him to all who know him." Years after, while Minister to Mexico, I visited Washington at the time when Burnside was a Senator from his State, and received from him much social attention in recognition of our army friendship.

From Bean Station I wrote again on December 13:--

"We are still at this place, from which I last wrote you, being comparatively quiet. We daily send out reconnoissances toward Rogersville and Morristown. They generally meet the enemy nine and twelve miles out, have a pretty sharp skirmish, lose a few men killed and wounded, and then return to camp. The enemy do not appear to be retreating, or rather appear to have stopped retreating. My health continues very good, and I am in good spirits, only I get quite homesick at times. I will get home as soon as I can, but the prospect for doing so is not very flattering."

In a hurried visit to Knoxville I wrote on the 23d of December:--

"As I got to thinking about home, I said to General Foster that when my services could be dispensed with, I would like to take a leave of absence. He says he cannot think of letting me go for ten days or two weeks, but hopes at the expiration of that time that the exigencies of the service will permit him to let me go home. That means that I may probably go home if the enemy will let me. Don't fix your heart on my coming soon. It will be as soon as I can consistently."

This is my Christmas letter:--

"I can do nothing better to-night than to write you a letter by way of a Christmas present. We have to-day unexpectedly had a quiet, if not a Merry Christmas, though it did not appear last night as though it would be so. About 3 P.M. yesterday I received orders (in camp near Blain's Cross-Roads) to move over at once and join General Sturgis at New Market, where the main body of the cavalry are. We got off about sunset, but did not arrive here till midnight, having to ford the Holston and travel over a very bad road. How longingly I thought of what you and the dear ones at home might be doing at that hour as I marched along in the clear, stinging cold night.

"After the cold and cheerless ride we fortunately got into comfortable quarters, and have been quiet to-day, enjoying the rest and comfort. We improvised a pretty good Christmas dinner. Among the delicacies we don't get often, we had eggs and butter. We are not living in excellent Epicurean style just now, as the country is pretty well eaten out.

"I cannot see any prospect of our getting into winter quarters, such as the papers report the Army of the Potomac and of the Cumberland are enjoying. The climate of East Tennessee is very similar to that of Indiana, and the men are very scantily supplied with 'dog' or shelter tents and many have not even these to cover them. My commands since we came into East Tennessee have been on one continuous campaign without cessation. Up the country, over the mountains, across the rivers, down the valley, then up again, driving the enemy before us, then falling back, to drive the enemy up the valley again--thus we have been for four months, until we have run down our horses and about half of our men. But we are enduring it very well, still after the rebels with as much zest as ever. There is a vast deal of excitement in the cavalry service."

My last letter to my wife from East Tennessee was written on the last day of 1863, which I began with a prayer:--

"Let us not forget to thank our dear Heavenly Father for all His mercies of the past year. Oh, how good He has been to us, even with all our troubles! How little we have done in our lives to repay that goodness! May He make us more worthy of His mercies and blessing in the New Year, and may He preserve our lives that we may together meet and praise Him. To His watchful care I commit my dear wife and little ones.

"I last wrote you from New Market. I was enjoying a quiet rainy Sunday there, reading some good book I found at the house where I was quartered, when about noon I received orders for my division to move forward and attack the enemy and drive him back from Mossy Creek. It was an unwelcome order that rainy Sabbath, but we executed it, and after considerable skirmishing took up a new line two miles beyond Mossy Creek. Yesterday Colonel Wolford's division and mine were ordered out at three o'clock in the morning to Dandridge, where it was reported a division of rebel cavalry was encamped. We went, but found the enemy had left the night before, and we returned at 4 P.M. just in time to miss a nice little fight at Mossy Creek. The enemy attacked our outposts at 11 A.M. and drove our troops back two miles, but ours in turn drove them back again beyond our lines. It is not often that my men have the fortune, or misfortune, to miss the fighting, as we did yesterday.

"We have here our entire force of cavalry, and one brigade of infantry. The rest of the army is at Strawberry Plains and Blain's Cross-Roads. Longstreet is reported at Morristown with the main body of his army. I suppose General Foster intends to drive him away from there, if possible, how soon I don't care because I want to come home as soon as the fighting here is over, and take a little rest with my dear wife and darling little girls."

I may venture, before closing my East Tennessee correspondence, to give in part the last of these letters, as a specimen of letters to a soldier's child, written on January 1, 1864:--

"Why should I not write a letter this New Year's Day to my dear little Alice? I am so far away I can't give you any nice present; all I can do is to try to write you a good letter....

"What have you and Lillie and the other little children been doing to-day? And did you have a Christmas tree and a happy time then? Papa has not had much of a New Year's Day. It has been so cold, oh so very cold to-day. Was it cold at home? I could tell you a story about the cold. Would you like papa to tell you a little story in his letter? Do you still like to hear stories? Well, I can tell you part of it, and mamma can tell it over to you and _fill it up_.

"Papa, you know, is away off, out in the mountains, so far away from home, in the army, and you know there are so many poor soldiers in the army. Yesterday, the last day of the old year, was such a gloomy day, it was so muddy and wet and rainy. And then last night it blew so hard and rained so much; it was like a hurricane (get mamma to tell you what that is). And the poor soldiers have no houses to live in, like little Alice, with nice warm beds, and they don't have large tents like you saw out in the woods near home last summer when Uncle Jimmy and the rest of the boys and men were out soldiering. They have to live in the fields and woods, and their tents are like grandma's tablecloth, only smaller, and they stretch that up over a pole and it is open at both ends, and at night two or three or four of them get down on their hands and knees and crawl into it and pull their blankets over them when they go to bed. The soldiers call them 'dog-tents.' Ask Lillie if she thinks it would be good enough for her 'Trip.' Well, last night, after many of the soldiers had been marching in the rain, and when most of them were wet and their blankets wet, they built large fires, but they wouldn't burn well because it was too wet, and they crawled into the 'dog-tents,' and were trying to get to sleep when the naughty wind commenced to blow and it began again to rain, and the rain would blow on their heads and they would draw them further into their tents, and then it would rain on their feet, and pretty soon there came up such a hurricane that it blew all their tents clear off of them, and there they were lying on the muddy ground, and the cold rain pouring down on them. And they all had to get up out of bed. It had rained so hard that it put all their fires nearly out so they couldn't get warm. Poor soldiers, don't you pity them?