USA > Ohio > In the 50th Ohio serving Uncle Sam : memoirs of one who wore the blue > Part 1
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Gc 973.74 0h3win 1996651
M. L.
REYNOLDS HISTORICAL GENEALOGY COLLECTION
ALLEN COUNTY PUBLIC LIBRARY 3 1833 01084 3032
Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012
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Erastus Winters
IN THE 50TH OHIO SERVING UNCLE SAM
Memoirs of One Who Wore the Blue- Battle of Perryville-Camp Scenes in Old Kentucky and Tennessee - The Atlanta Campaign-Back in Tennessee- Battle of Franklin-Captured by the Enemy-A Hot Place Between the Firing Lines-Prison Experience-The Destruc- tion of the Steamer "Sultana"-Frightful Loss of Life-Horrible and Heartrending Scenes-Writer's Escape, and Arrival at Home-Enjoys the Warm Hospitality of. Relatives and Friends-End of the War -Prosperity of the Country Under "Old Glory."
By Erastus Winters, Corporal Company "K," 50, O. V. I. 78 7256 12
TO
MY CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN AND ALSO
MY COMRADES OF THE G. A. R.,
ARE THESE MEMOIRS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 3
$1.00 in paper binding - $1.50 in cloth
1985 Fairfax Avenue, East Walnut Hills
SERVING UNCLE SAM IN THE 50TH OHIO
1996651
CHAPTER I.
Writer's Ancestors and Sketch of His Boyhood Days.
I was born August 8, 1843, in Hamilton County, Ohio, ten miles northwest of Cincinnati, in what was commonly called The White Oak Settlement.
My father (Amos Winters, Senior), was a Green Mountain boy, and was born in the State of Vermont. My mother (Mary Ann Pine), was born in the State of New Jersey.
In the early days, when my father arrived in Cincinnati, the city only contained a few houses, and most of them were built of logs. What is now Colerain avenue, was then a mud road, where horses would often mire down, and would have to be pulled out with oxen, plaing log chains or ropes about the horses' necks.
About the first work that father did on his arrival was to get out some timbers for a bridge over Millcreek at Cumminsville; then he drifted out into the country about Mount Healthy and the White Oaks, and taught school, met my mother, and they were married ; then he turned his attention to farming, and followed that occupation until he became too old to labor any more.
Father was a Drum Major in the War of 1812.
He was at heart a strong Republican, and voted for the la- mented Lincoln both terms that he was elected President. He was a warm friend of the colored race, and considered slavery a great evil.
My parents confessed Christ, and became Christians under the · preaching of Elder Love Jamison at the Old White Oak Church of Christ, in the early years of the Reformation. Father served the church as Elder a number of years.
My parents reared a family of seven sons and three daugh- ters.
My brother, Asa Winters, volunteered in the 69th Indiana
·Kerch Rec May 8-1978
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Regiment, and was killed at the Battle of Richmond, Ky., in 1862. Another brother, Francis Winters, volunteered in Company "E," 189th O. V. I. He returned safe. He was not out long, perhaps five or six months ; he had an easy time, guarding the railroad near Huntsville, Alabama.
I was the youngest son. My boyhood days were spent on the farm. In those days, we did not have the splendid school houses, and the fine school advantages we have now, so as might be ex- pected, my schooling was rather limited ; perhaps five months out- side of what my father taught me would cover it all, and I grew up as many another farmer's son in those days, knowing little else but how to handle the hoe, plow or mowing scythe.
At the age of 17, I confessed Christ, and became a Christian, under the preaching of Elder William Patterson, at White Oak Church, and I want to say here that since that I have tried in my weak way to live up to that confession. I have never re- gretted the step I took at that time, but my only regret has been my failures to live up to that standard as I ought, and though I have a living faith that God has ever had me in remembrance, and that his everlasting arms have borne me up, and protected me while hundreds of my comrades were being ushered into Eternity around me, yet it is with shame that I confess that I have often forgotten him, and stepped aside into forbidden paths, and have not rendered him that loving obedience that I should.
But I trust that through the merits of Christ, I may be for- given these, my short-comings, and be permitted in the end to enter into that eternal home that is prepared for those that love God, and keep his commandments.
At this time, my brothers all being married, and working for themselves, it fell to my lot to get out and hustle to make a living for my parents and youngest sister, for although my father had worked hard all his life on the farm, he had never succeeded in laying up anything for a rainy day, so he was still a poor man in his old age.
My first experience in working out among strangers was very discouraging. Father hired me out to an old gentleman, that had' in his younger days been a slave driver in the South. He had no learning, but was very headstrong, and set in his ways. A strong Southern sympathizer ; in fact, to use plain language, he was a copperhead, dyed in the wool; take him all around. he was a hard proposition.
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IN THE FIFTIETH OHIO
When he came to the dining table, he had a few words that he never failed to repeat ; it was, as he termed it, asking God's bless- ing on what "we were gwine to receive," but sad to say, as soon perhaps as the "Amen" had left his lips, he would be cursing and swearing, equal to some wicked old Sea Captain. .
On Sundays, he would read the Old Testament for hours, and being no scholar, you may imagine he made a mess of it; it takes an up-to-date scholar to pronounce those hard names, but they did not seem to bother him in the least; it was no trouble for him to pronounce them. He would call them anything that came in his mind, and go racing ahead to the next. I used to laugh to myself, and wonder how those old Bible patriarchs could lie still in their graves and be called such hard names as he called them. I sup- pose he thought he got credit for all that reading, and maybe he did, but still I think there is room for doubt. Then he had a grandson about my age that lived with him, and the old gentleman would send us two out in the woods to saw with a cross-cut saw. I am not going to say whether we two worked very hard or not, but suffice it to say the old gentleman use to remark that "boys would be boys."
The grandson and I slept upstairs just over the old gentleman's bedroom, and in the morning at 4 o'clock regular, rap, rap, rap would go the old gentleman's cane on the floor-that meant get up. Oh ! how we used to dread that early calling. After all those years I have never forgotten the dreaded sound of that old hickory cane. So early in the morning, to us boys in our warm bed up- stairs, it sounded like the crack of doom, but as bad as we hated it, we had to obey, for if we did not heed the first call, it would be repeated in a few minutes with still greater vim than at first. So we would crawl out, and do our feeding and wash ourselves and get ready for what we knew "we were gwine to receive," for well we knew what that would be-hoe-cake, coffee and a bite of meat, and a few oaths for dessert.
Well, I stood the racket a month and a half, and then I pulled out and left him, for to tell the truth, had I remained much longer, it would have taken two of me to make one shadow, as I never got enough to eat while I was with him.
I understood that after the war commenced, the old gentleman was in Cincinnati one day, and he began to express some of his Southern sentiments, and the next thing he knew, there was a rope around his neck, and he was strung up to a lamp post, and
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given a right severe choking, and only his gray hair saved his life. They let him down, and he went home, a wiser, if not, a better man, and I trust he remained thankful the balance of his days for what "he was gwine to receive."
After leaving the old gentleman, I worked for different parties and at different kinds of work, but I struck no more places as tough as the first one, receiving man's wages, though only a boy in age.
In those days, I put in all my spare time reading, for I always loved to read from the time I could put words together. So I remember I read all about the Kansas troubles; the Missouri border ruffians; the Dred Scott Decision; the John Brown raid; his capture and death; the campaign of Abraham Lincoln for President ; the exciting times following his election and inaugu- ration ; the withdrawl of the Southern States from the Union ; the firing on the "Star of the West"; the firing on "Fort Sumpter"; and her surrender to the Confederate officers; the first call of the President for volunteers to put down the rebellion; the attack on the troops in Baltimore while on their way to Washington; all those things I read carefully, and wondered what it would all lead to. I was too young and inexperienced to grasp the situation in full ; still my sympathies were all on the side of the Union, and to show my patriotism, I joined a company of home guards, and took an active part in drilling, and also in raising a flag over the home of my employer, a gentleman that resided near Cheviot, Ohio, and had me employed on his farm. This was during the summer of 1861, and at that time, all or nearly all the loyal families had the flag waving over their homes.
Just across the road from where I was employed lived a very loyal family. Father, mother, one daughter and four sons. They, `of course, showed their loyalty by having "Old Glory" proudly floating from a flag staff in their yard. My employer and I concluded to have some fun, so we slipped over one night, and stole their flag and took it half a mile out the road, and hung it on a fence stake. They were quite angry about it, and, of course, lay the blame on some of their "Secesh" neighbors. You may be sure the guilty parties kept very mute about it so I don't think they ever found out who did it, and if any of them chance to read this little story, the mystery will be cleared up. It was a shabby trick, but we only did it for sport, but we had to do our laughing
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IN THE FIFTIETH OHIO
on the quiet, as we did not dare to let them see us making sport over it.
Two of those young men went in the service afterwards, and lost their lives in defense of that flag they loved so well; the re- mains of one of them was brought home before I enlisted, and I went to his funeral. He was a good friend of mine, a splendid young man, and stood high in the community where he lived, and his taking off in the flower of his young manhood was deeply re- gretted by a large circle of friends, even those who differed from him on the account of his bold stand for the Union, came and paid the last sad tribute of respect to his poor remains they could in this world. Thus showing that they respected him for his bravery, even if they did differ with him in sentiment. He had the courage of his convictions, while they had not.
This was in the early part of the war, and, of course, attracted attention far and near, but later on, these sad scenes became almost daily occurences. Ah! but those were exciting times, and little did the people think at the beginning that four years of cruel, bloody war was to follow.
Brother was to meet brother on the field of battle; each con- tending and battling for the cause he thought was right; one clothed in blue, and battling under the Stars and Stripes, that represented what our forefathers fought for-a United Country ; the other, clothed in the Gray, marching and battling under the Stars and Bars that represented the Southern States that had withdrawn from the Union, and wished to form a separate gov- ernment of their own. Both equally determined and equally brave; both willing to leave their pleasant homes and friends and suffer privations on the march, and if need be, offer up their lives, a willing sacrifice on the field of battle for the cause they thought was just and right. Oh! what suffering and misery and heartaches were endured in those eventful four years; not only in the Northland, but also in the Southland. Pen can never de- scribe, or tongue express, nor can the brush of the artist paint the anguish and suffering that was endured by the soldiers on the march through heat and cold.
Think of the wounded on the battlefields ; sometimes lying for days exposed to the heat of a Southern sun, or the piercing cold of a Northern blast, and the privations and cruelty they were compelled to endure in the prison pens ; nor was the suffering con- fined to the soldiers alone. Ah, no! think of the poor, old fathers
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and mothers, wives, sisters, sweethearts and children left at home. Oh! how slowly the days, weeks, months and years must have passed for them; how eagerly they searched the papers for the latest news from the front. Imagine if you can, the feelings of those parents as they read that their John fell in the last bloody charge, pierced through the head by a minnie ball. Can it be true? Yes, there it is in black and white, and they read it again and again to make sure that they have read aright. Poor, merry- hearted John, the idol of their hearts, their main support in their declining years, is gone. Oh! what anguish fills the hearts of this Father and Mother as they realize in its fullness, their sad bereav- ment.
Picture, if you can, the scene in a young wife's home, as she reads the latest news from the front; as she comes to the list of the wounded; her heart almost stops beating as she reads the name of her Harry, that he has lost his good right arm, and is in the hospital; what scalding tears she sheds as she clasps her boy in her arms, and thinks of poor Harry, as he mourns with pain on his lonely cot. "Oh!" she sobs, "If I was only there to wait on him, and soothe his suffering."
Then imagine to that home where the parents have seen their gallant boys march away to the front, leaving behind them, their sisters and sweethearts. Oh! how proud they all felt when they saw the brave boys march away in their bright, new uniforms; how the neighbors cheered as they waved them a last good bye, but trouble and sorrow has come into that home also, for they have read the late news, and sad to relate they have found in the list of prisoners, the names of their two brave boys, of whom they felt sc proud. Yes, there are the names, Charles and George, captured by the enemy, as they were gallantly defending their flag; now instead of pride and cheers in that home, there is sorrow and tears, for they have all read what miserable treatment the prisoners receive. So the hearts of the parents, sisters and sweethearts are all heavy with grief, as they think what their loved ones will have to suffer in those vile dens. Reader, those scenes are not drawn from imagination, but were of almost daily oc- curence in the North and South during all those terrible four years of war.
Truly the cup of sorrow in the homes were full and over- flowing, and yet how bravely the noble women bore their heavy burdens, and uncomplainingly toiled on, and by their prayers and
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IN THE FIFTIETH OHIO
loving acts of kindness, they did what they could; not only did they try to soothe the suffering in their desolate homes, but by their sympathy and self-denial, many a poor, lonely suffering boy's heart was made to throb with gladness, whose frail body was racked with pain from wounds or fever, as he tossed from side to side on his humble hospital cot, by their kind and loving ministrations, for as some one has wisely said, "Woman's warm heart and gentle hand in God's eternal plan, were formed to soften, soothe, refine, exalt and comfort man."
Well did the women perform their part in those dark and bloody days, both in the North and South, as we who were en- gaged in the struggle can safely bear witness. Let us then not forget to ask that a Heavenly Father's Choicest Blessing may rest on those noble women, who so heroicly stood behind the men that stood behind the guns.
Some writer has paid the following beautiful tribute to women, which I take the liberty of inserting here, as a fitting close for this chapter.
"How dark this world, how dark and dreary, How hard a task this life would be to live. If we had not that blessed consolation A woman has the power to give.
In time of greatest trouble and temptation, When all the world seems dark as Egypt's night,
She comes to us, a dear, sweet guardian angel, To give us comfort, and guard us right. Like sunbeams in the midst of storm and sorrow,
Her smiles give warmth and cheer to weary hearts. She lifts us to a higher plane of living By sweet influence which her life imparts. She is to us worth more than gold or silver, Or all the other things this world contains.
For while these fade, and lose their dazzling splendor, A pure sweet woman's love remains."
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SERVING UNCLE SAM
CHAPTER II.
Putting on the Blue-Ordered to Kentucky-First Long Roll Experience-Happenings at Camp King and Camp Beechwood
During the spring and summer of 1862, I was in the employ of a gentleman at CollegeHill, Ohio, near Cincinnati.
He was interested in the fruit business, and was putting out his entire farm in fruit. He took great pride in his trees, and labored among them daily, keeping their tops trimmed neat and uniform. He watched over and nursed them as tenderly as he did his children. Indeed, I admired his trees very much myself, as I worked, and put in a crop of navy beans among them, which were growing finely, when I left to enter the army. I shall have oc- casion to mention those trees again before I close this little story.
I kept myself posted in the progress of the war, and came to the conclusion that they would never be able to put down the rebellion without my assistance, and I spoke to my employer about it. Said he, "My boy, stay with me at moderate wages until I get my first crop of fruit, and I will make you a present of a fine young horse, saddle and bridle." I thanked him for his tempt- · ing offer, but said to him that I thought my services were needed in the army more than he needed them, and though I regretted to leave him and his good family, I bade them good bye.
When I told my parents my intentions, father bade me God speed, but mother objected very strongly, but I said to her if I remained at home, I was likely to be drafted, and asked her if she would not rather I would be a volunteer than to be forced into the service, besides that I would be with my cousin, who was a Lieutenant in the Company that I wished to join, and also that I would be with some of my chums, who had already enlisted, and with a lot more such talk as this, I finally overcame her objections, and she reluctantly gave her consent.
My parents at that time were living at Ludlow, Kentucky. I went over into Cincinnati, hunted up the recruiting office, and signed the roll as a member of Company "K," 50 Ohio Volun- teers, and was sent out to Camp Dennison, and mustered into the United States Service for the period of three years, or during the war, receiving fifty dollars bounty from Hamilton County,
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IN THE FIFTIETH OHIO
and twenty-five dollars cash from the Government, with a promise of seventy-five more at the close of my service.
The regiment at its organization was under the command of Colonel Jonah R. Taylor, Lieutenant Colonel Silas A. Strickland, Major Defrees and Adjutant George R. Elsner.
Company "K" was commanded by Captain L. A. Hendricks ; First Lieutenant Oliver McClure ; Second Lieutenant E. L. Pine ; First Sergeant Charles Vanduezen, all fine looking officers. Van- duezen had been in the regular service, and was a number one drill master ; as a result, Company "K" became in a short time very proficient in the manual of arms, and all company movements.
A few days after being mustered in, I was given a pass to visit my parents, brothers and sisters to bid them good bye, and receive their parting blessing. Yes, and I had a girl to leave be- hind me, and, of course, must see her, and bid her good bye also, and with a promise to write to her often, I bid her a sorrowful farewell. We corresponded regular for a few months, and then a young Methodist minister lay siege to her heart, and she became his for better or worse, but she was not the only pebble on the beach, and I did not remain long without another correspondent.
But to resume, returning to camp. After my pass expired, I was soon rigged out in a suit of Uncle Sam's blue, and armed with a musket, I began to think I was "It."
I was mustered into service, August 22, 1862, and after drill- ing squad company and regimental drill and standing guard until somewhere the first of September, we were ordered to Kentucky, and sent out the Lexington Pike near Fort Mitchell, and camped near the Highland House on an open lot for the night. Those that are well read in history will remember that this was the time that General Kirby Smith had invaded Kentucky, and was threatening Covington and Cincinnati. Nothing disturbed the quiet of our camp that night.
In the morning, several comrades with myself were detailed for fatigue duty, and were busy at work with pick and shovel just under the hill below camp; all went well for a short time, and then from headquarters came the nerve disturbing rattle of the long roll; beat with all the energy that Bob Crandle, our lame drummer boy could put in the drumsticks. We all understood what that meant-picks and shovels were dropped at once. I am not sure but those that had their picks in the air, ready to strike, left them hanging there, and we rushed to camp to find the regi-
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SERVING UNCLE SAM
ment already forming on the parade ground. In the excitement, some comrade had mistaken my gun and accouterments for his own, but there is no time now for changing guns. I gather up what is left, and take my place at the head of Company "K," and at the command : Right, face, forward, double quick, march, we are off out the pike a short distance, file right through a farm gate, then across fields, orchards, gardens, vineyards and våcant lots, jumping newly made breastworks.
We finally came to a halt with scarcely a half an inch of breath left inside the grim walls of old Fort Mitchell, where at that time, stood a battery of brass guns, the same that Professor Lloyd men- tions in his famous book, "Stringtown on the Pike."
I begin to look around now, and wonder where I am. As I glance along the line to right and left, I notice the boys' faces are very pale, caused no doubt by our great haste to reach the fort, or it may have been caused by the awful rattle of Bob's drum. Old veterans will all bear me out, I think in saying, the long roll is very trying on the nervous system, especially if it takes place in the vicinity of the enemy. So these two causes combined, I think, fully explains why our faces were so white at this particular time.
I don't wish to convey to the reader the impression that we were frightened ; no, not by any means ; we were just a bit nervous, that's all, but be that as it may, had we been called at that moment to give a specimen of our marksmanship, I fear that none of us would have hit the bull's eye. Our condition was something like the hunter who has run up on his first deer. We had what might be termed the "Buck Ague."
Half a mile or a mile south of Fort Mitchell, at that time the pike ran through a dense beech woods. We naturally looked out that direction after getting in the line in the fort, and we saw a great cloud of white dust arising above the tree tops ; that settled it in our minds, of course, that the Rebel army under Kirby Smith was going to attack us, and it was their advance that was raising all that dust, so we kept our eyes fixed on that dust cloud, which drew nearer and nearer. Finally when we were all about ready to have nervous prostration, there emerges from that dark woods, not Kirby Smith's advance, but a large drove of government mules that were being driven in to save them from falling into the hands of Kirby Smith, whose advance was at Florence, only a few miles distant from Fort Mitchell, and his advance pickets
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IN THE FIFTIETH OHIO
and ours had exchanged a few shots at each other that morning, and a few men were killed and wounded as we learned after- wards.
After these things calmed down, we returned to our camp near the Highland House, and this ended the bloodless battle of Fort Mitchell, and our first long roll experience.
There were thousands of men in the defences of Covington at that time; raw recruits, militia and backwoods squirrel hunters; what kind of a fight we would have put up is hard to tell had Kirby Smith advanced on us, but he must have thought we were too many for him, for he flanked off to the right, and left us, but he still hovered around a few days, causing us to keep a sharp lookout for him ; so if our numbers kept him away what difference does it make if our nerves were unstrung at the time. "All is well that end well."
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