USA > Ohio > Four years in the saddle. History of the First Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Cavalry. War of the Rebellion, 1861-1865 > Part 28
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An incident occurred while I was talking with him that
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morning that lies a precious pearl on the beaten shore of mem- ory. A noble boy of my own company was lying mortally wounded in the next ambulance. He was moaning in great pain. The Surgeon came up and was getting ready to dress his wound, when Scott heard the moans from the next ambulance. He raised his head, and with an air of command and an unselfish heroism, equaling that which made the dying Sidney immortal, said: "Doctor, don't you hear poor Steve Barton? Never mind me, let me alone and go and relieve the suffering of that brave, dying boy."
In the center of one of the circles of dead in the National Cemetery at Chattanooga, on a slope looking out toward the East and catching the first rays of the morning sun as it rises above the hallowed heights of Missionary Ridge, there is a little mound with a little head-stone marked "Captain William H. Scott, First Ohio Cavalry."
No kindred have ever visited it, no woman's tears have ever moistened it: but under that mound lies one whose life was as clean, whose brain was as clear, whose heart was as true and loyal, whose soul was as chivalric and unselfish as the story of any land or age can furnish.
At Chickamauga.
On a pleasant morning in September, 1863, just as break- fast was over, the bugles called the First Ohio Cavalry to "boots and saddles." There was nothing remarkable in that to old troopers who had completed two years of campaigning with the Army of the Cumberland, but it was the summons to a day's duty long to be remembered, the last day of the Battle of Chickamauga.
The First Ohio Cavalry at that time belonged to the Sec- ond Ohio Brigade, Second Division of the Corps of Cavalry. The division was commanded by General George Crook and the brigade by Colonel Eli Long. To our brigade was attached two guns of the Chicago Board of Trade Battery. The brigade was composed of the First, Third and Fourth Ohio Volunteer Cavalry and the Second Kentucky Cavalry.
The regiments of the brigade took turns, a day at a time, in supporting the artillery, and this day it was supported by the First Ohio. We soon mounted, moved into the road, followed the battery over a small stream, through a thin wood, and took our position in line of battle, near the edge of an open field, on the extreme right of McCook's corps. Some days before this, in our marching over ridges and through valleys, I had got, a piece of Sand Mountain in my eye. It had caused me not a little trouble, and I had tied a handkerchief over it. As we came into line I heard a comrade remark, "Sergeant
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Chapin is going one eye on it!" But I saw enough that day with one eye to satisfy me fully. Company K, to which I be- longed, was on the left of the regiment, with our battery imme- diately to the left of this company and about thirty feet away.
Before we were in line that morning we heard the roar of big guns and the clatter of the small ones off to the left, giving us distinctly to understand that the battle was on once more. We sat on our horses with the open field before us. The enemy was too far away to be reached by our carbines. The battery immediately opened fire, and it was not long before it was answered by the enemy's artillery. For more than three hours we sat there mounted beside our big guns, listening to the music of shot and shell as they cavorted past us and over our heads. As I now remember, not a man of the regiment. was that day hit by shot or shell of the artillery; their firing was too high and went over our heads. Damage was done to the troops immediately in our rear by falling branches cut from the trees by these shots.
Colonel Eggleston being in Ohio on recruiting service, the command of the regiment devolved on Lieutenant-Colonel Val- entine Cupp. It was about half past twelve o'clock when the rebel infantry came out of the woods into the open field in front of us. We had been in line under fire of the artillery at least three hours, but it hardly seemed fifteen minutes, so interesting was the occasion.
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They were Longstreet's men, and they advanced in three perfect lines of battle with no attempt at flanking, but appar- ently with a determination to take by main force all that was before them. On they came, and when within about three hun- dred yards a Lieutenant of General Crook's staff rode to us, met Adjutant Scott near the left of the regiment and called out, "The orders from the General are 'Prepare to charge! " The Adjutant immediately reported to Colonel Cupp, and the commands were given to sling carbines and draw sabers, and in this position we waited, every moment expecting to hear the command that would move us into the jaws of death at a gallop. I remember as distinctly as if it were but yester- day how I felt, and what I thought during the few moments we thus held ourselves, and I took in the situation before us. Three lines of rebel infantry with loaded guns and bayonets fixed, were before us and coming our way, and we were to charge into those bristling walls of steel. I said to Sergeant Irwin, on my left: "If the charge is made not a man can come out alive." The suspense was not long continued, for General Crook, seeing that all was not right, came to our line and said: "The order was, prepare to resist the charge!" That was quite different, and I, for one, felt much easier.
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During the preparation for a charge the left of the regi- ment had been moved forward some three or four rods, so that we were that distance in advance of our battery. As it was thought best that we should be on a line with it, we were moved by fours left about, and to the rear, until we were even with the guns, and then by fours left about again to the front and in line. Thus it will be seen that we turned twice by fours left about in the very face of the infantry, while volley after volley from the small arms was poured into us.
All this time our artillery had kept up a continuous firing. Great gaps were made in their lines, but only those who were mowed down halted; the living came on. Then came the strug- gle; all that could be done with carbine and revolver to keep back lines of infantry was done; we were simply overpowered by numbers. The killed and wounded stopped not, nor even checked the forward movement of the living. A desperate effort was made to capture our battery, and its last shot was fired when the advance rebel line was fifty yards away. When it was use- less to remain longer it limbered up and went to the rear with little less speed than its last shot had gone to the front. When the guns which it was our duty to support were gone, Colonel Cupp gave the command, "Fours, left about, march!" That was his last command. Ere the movement was completed, a minnie ball struck him in the bowels and he fell from his horse mior- tally wounded. For a while he was left where he fell, but late in the evening he was picked up by some of the members of his old company (F), who had been captured, but permitted to return to look for him, and placed in one of the hospital tents near Crawfish Springs, where he died before morning.
Just as we had nearly completed the "fours left about" in the face of the charging infantry, a rebel officer had the impudence to shoot me with his revolver. The ball struck me just back of the right shoulder, passing through the right lung and lodging against a rib, where it still remains. I have had the pleasure of carrying it there for more than twenty-six years. I can't say that the shot hurt; it was only a sting, but served to cut my breathing short and bring me off my horse. How- ever, I held him, and in a moment remounted hoping to be able to ride away from the fellows in gray, who were making them- selves very disagreeable.
I had not the power to guide my horse; he ran my knee against a sapling, a knot in which tore a hole in my pants and skinned my knee and shin about six inches, which made me lame for two or three months. I concluded that my only sal- vation was to leave my horse, or rather, to allow my horse to leave me, and to try walking. I therefore rolled to the ground while the horse was on the run, with as much ease and grace, as a drunken man might roll off a log.
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Once more on terra firma, I cleared myself of carbine, sabre, belt, cartridge box and revolver, expecting to be able without these trap .. . to walk away. I soon found that I had not enough breath to do so, and therefore secured myself as best I could, from flying balls and running horses, behind a tree. Just as I sat down, a company passed me, and one or two comrades offered to take me along with them. I could not talk, and knew I could not ride a horse, so only waved my hand for them to go on, and they left me. On the advice of these comrades the next morning's report said that I had been killed in battle. The Fourth Michigan Cavalry, which belonged to another divi- sion, had been stationed in our rear. A number of that organi- zation advancing, came near me. I was thirsty. My canteen, with haversack, blanket and overcoat, had gone with my horse. Seeing a Michigan man's canteen, I asked him for a drink of water. He dropped his canteen to me as though in a great hurry, leveling his carbine as he did so. "There goes another Reb!" he cried. I turned my head in the direction he had indicated just in time to see a very large soldier in a gray uniform fall forward on his face. He was dead. I saw him next morning lying as he had fallen.
The racket of war went merrily on around me. The Union forces gradually fell back, leaving the battle ground in posses- sion of the enemy. I remained right there all night without dinner or supper. I don't think I thought about eating. After an hour or so the noise of the battle had entirely died away and quiet reigned. I sat by that tree - I could not lie down - and reflected upon my situation. With neither overcoat nor blanket I was uncomfortably cool, wounded, maybe mortally (although I did not think so), five hundred miles from home, not a friend near, in an enemy's country and surrounded by rebels. Then, too, to cap the climax, in the deep hours of the night, when darkness had settled around us, there came to my ears the terrible groans of the wounded and dying. That was the longest night of my life. I cannot say that I was blue, but I certainly did not enjoy my surroundings.
Dawn was hailed with gladness. As soon as it was light I looked around me, and at a little distance saw a blue smoke curling up through the brush. It was a welcome sight, for I was cold. I immediately started in its direction as rapidly as possible. I was still quite short of breath. On my way I-passed several dead bodies, but one in particular attracted my atten- tion. It was that of a Union soldier, lying on his back, his face toward heaven, his features in no way disfigured or discolored. He was a medium sized man, with a rather dark complexion, black hair and beard. As I stopped and looked at him, I thought how would his wife feel if she could see him lying there, cold, stiff, dead. Doubtless she was at that time anxiously waiting
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for the tidings from him that never came. I was in a good condition to be impressed by such scenes and such thoughts. I went on my way and soon reached the fire. An old pine stump was burning. I placed myself close to it and so as to get the benefit of the fire and at the same time avoid the smoke. I had been there probably half an hour and was becoming quite comfortable, when I heard a crackling in the brush off to the south a little. Looking in the direction of the noise, I saw a rebel Lieutenant on a horse and a private on a mule coming single file leisurely toward me. They were ducking their heads and craning their necks, as though looking for something par- ticular. I watched them closely, wondering if there would be more shooting when they saw me. I had no gun. They soon discovered me, came to a halt and asked me if I was wounded. They came up and the first demand the officer made was: "I want those spurs!" I had a first class pair, for which I had paid my own good money; however, I made neither objection nor reply, but simply stretched out my legs, as much as to say, "If you want them, take them." The Lieutenant dismounted, took them off, and with the composure of a soldier who is will- ing to do his whole duty, adjusted them to his own boots.
The next demand was for my canteen, but that I asked to keep until I got where I could get water. The request was granted, with the injunction not to let any one else have it. I was then directed to walk right straight up to the vidette on picket post, and remain there until my captor returned, and should anyone attempt to take that canteen away from me I was instructed to say that it belonged to the Lieutenant. I did as directed, and when at a proper distance from the picket was halted, questioned and ordered to advance. The first friendly remark the guard made was, "I want that air canteen." When I told him the order I had received from the Lieutenant, he muttered an oath, adding, "That is always the way, the d-d officers get everything that is worth having." He already had a canteen; it was not made of tin, but of wood, and looked like the end of a small barrel.
I learned this was an outpost of the enemy, and that the party which had made a prisoner of war belonged to the Fourth Georgia Cavalry. They were right clever fellows, and I had no reason to complain of their treatment. In a few minutes the Lieutenant and private returned. The officer rode up beside a log and ordered me to mount behind him, saying he would take me to a house near by, where were other captured "Yanks." - With the assistance of the soldier I mounted. He undertook to trot his horse, but on my objecting, he walked his horse the rest of the way. On our way up we passed the reserve guard, composed of an officer and a few men. The officer asked me to what regiment I belonged, and when I told him the First
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Ohio Cavalry he said he had heard of that regiment before, and added that when he saw me he thought I belonged to that "d- East Tennessee gang." I did not take this remark as a compliment. He also asked me what we meant, anyway, by coming down there to fight them, and what we expected to do. I replied that I was too short winded to talk much, but if he would wait till I got my breath, I would argue the case with him. He did not seem to be in a very good humor; I do not think he had been to breakfast, or perhaps he had been disturbed in his last night's rest. I was somewhat uneasy in his presence, and was relieved when the officer who had me in charge moved on towards the house.
We soon reached the place, a log house with a "lean to," and there, sure enough, were about forty Union prisoners, and one of our surgeons who had been captured and retained to dress wounds. A guard was around the house and yard. When I had been put inside the inclosure, the Lieutenant took my can- teen, or rather the one belonging to the Michigan cavalryman, bade me good-bye, and that was the last I saw of him. I have often wished I could have that canteen back. About eleven o'clock that day I ate for the first time since breakfast the morning before. The entire meal consisted of mush made with a great deal of water and a very little corn meal. There was no salt in it. Nor did we get anything more while we remained at this house. Sometime during the forenoon of the next day the Surgeon got around to me. After learning the location of my wound, he assisted me in taking off my jacket, slit my shirt, and when I told him that the ball had not come out he began talking about probing for it. That made me tremble. I felt sure that I could not endure the process of probing through my lung, so I said quietly, "I am not much hurt, there are many others here who need your attention more than I do." That seemed to call his attention to the work before him. He looked at the wound, took a piece of muslin about an inch and a quar- ter square, covered one side with simple cerate, put something sticky around the edges, and slapped it over the wound. That was all the dressing it ever had, although it was over two months before I could lie on my left side.
On Wednesday afternoon it was thought best to move the patients to the great hospital tents which had been captured and put up near Crawfish Spring. There was no ambulance in sight; a farm wagon of ancient pattern was found, the reach lengthened so that the longest slabs and poles on the premises would fit as bottom boards, a mule and an old horse were har- nessed with "gears" peculiar to that country at that time, the wounded men were piled on and the load started for the hospital tents. That vehicle and its load were a picture. Thanks to the driver for his care and judgment, the wagon reached its
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destination without an accident or a scare. We went into the tents with other wounded captives. There was not too much room for comfort, but we were not expecting comfort, and were satisfied if only allowed to live. I could walk by taking my time to it, so each day during our stay here I visited the big spring several times and partook of the water freely; it seemed to do me about as much good as the mush.
Many poor fellows died every day. Some were shockingly hurt. I remember a case where the ball had passed in at the corner of the mouth on the right side, hardly cutting the skin, through the tongue, and out back of the jaw, at the lobe of the left ear. That man could not talk when I saw him on account of his tongue being too big. I saw another man with both eyes shot out; the ball had gone just far enough to destroy his sight. There were many peculiar wounds and many terribly distress- ing ones.
While here General Bragg sent word to General Rosecrans, who was at Chattanooga, that if he would load his ambulance with the badly wounded Confederate prisoners at Chattanooga, parole them, and send them through the lines as far as Craw- fish Springs, he (Bragg) would immediately return the ambu- lances filled with badly wounded Union soldiers. This Rose- crans agreed to, and on the twenty-ninth of September, nine days after the battle, the ambulance train made its appearance. The wounded "Johnnies" were taken out, the ambulances turned by driving around a loop, our men were put in and the procession moved slowly toward the North. I was one of the number of more than two thousand wounded men who were thus saved. At that time I did not appreciate what I missed, for those who were only slightly wounded and therefore not permitted to join us were sent to the fearful Andersonville Prison. The trains moved back over the road along which General Thomas did his desperate fighting on the twentieth. The dead bodies had been taken out of the track and piled up at the sides of the road to allow the wagons to pass and not run over them. There they were on either side, so close I could have touched them with my hand as the ambulance passed along. Some were in blue and others in gray, but all so black and swollen one could not have recognized the features of his nearest friend. No tongue, no pen can describe the scene; its horrors cannot even be imagined. It was the most horrible sight I have ever wit- nessed.
A white flag had been placed about half way between the Union and Confederate lines; at that point officers of each army were stationed. As each vehicle came to the flag the rebel driver got off, and the Union driver got on. Ere we reached the line it was dark, and ten o'clock by the time we were safe in Chattanooga.
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The most of us put up at the Critchfield House, apparently the most popular house in the city. I bothered neither clerk for a room nor porter with my baggage, but without waiting for supper, hung myself up on the floor, took a lean on the wall and thought myself lucky. There was not an inch of space on the floor that night not occupied by a wounded soldier.
At that time I did not appreciate my good fortune in being sent through the lines, but now, when I reflect upon the damnable treatment of Union soldiers in rebel prisons, I am doubly thank- ful that I was sent north, for those of us who were left on the battlefield of Chickamauga, and who, by reason of the slightness .of their wounds, were not sent with us to Chattanooga, went the other way, and stopped at the first station this side of Hades, Andersonville!
JOHN W. CHAPIN, Sergeant, Company K, First Ohio Volunteer Cavalry.
Extracts from the "Cavalier," a Paper Published by the Members of the Regiment, at Fayetteville, Tenn., in the Summer of 1863.
Fayetteville, Tenn., July 31, 1863.
Messrs. Editors:
Some of your readers will be interested with the detail of the cavalry fight which took place on Elk River on the second day of July.
Our cavalry left Hillsboro, Tenn., at break of day, and marched rapidly in the direction of Winchester, where we came within a short distance of the river. Our advance came up to a party of rebel cavalry and drove them back. Dismounted skirmishers were thrown out, who soon succeeded in driving them across the river.
With the river between us, and a forest on either side, the contest could not be decided, so one piece of artillery from the Board of Trade Battery, commanded by Captain Stokes, and supported by Colonel Eggleston, of the First Ohio Cavalry, with Company F of his command, was put into position. A few rounds of shell put them to flight, and their musketry was not again heard from.
For quite a while all was quiet, and our officers were con- sulting as to the propriety of crossing the river, when the rebel artillery opened upon us from an elevated position on the other side. At once we moved our guns to a more commanding posi- tion, and at once dismounted one of the rebel guns, and so demoralized their forces that they gave up the position.
After resting a short time and receiving reinforcements, we proceeded to cross the river, which we did without any oppo- sition whatever.
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We had proceeded but a short distance on the other side, when we found their cavalry in line. But this did not stop our progress, for on we went, charge after charge was made with the saber, laying open the heads and piercing the hearts of those in arms against us. Thus the battle went on until night had thrown her sable curtain over the battle-field and put an end to the fight.
The following day our infantry buried twenty-two rebels who were killed in this fight. Colonel Webb, of the Fourth Georgia Cavalry, was mortally wounded. He died next day. This is the officer who received Vallandigham at the rebel pick- ets. One other Colonel was wounded, whose name cannot be. given.
This, Messrs. Editors, is a very short account of one day's work during our advance from Murfreesboro.
J. W. L.
Fayetteville, Tenn., July 31, 1863.
Messrs. Editors:
In compliance with several requests, I herewith furnish you with the details of the part taken in the pursuit of Bragg's army from Tullahoma by Company B, First Ohio Cavalry. The company marched with the regiment from Murfreesboro the twenty-fourth of June; remained with the regiment from Mur- freesboro at Manchester, at which place we, with three other companies of our regiment, were detached and ordered to report to General Branan, in advance on the road leading to Tullahoma .. On the morning of the first of July information was received of the evacuation of Tullahoma by the rebel forces. We were then ordered to report to General Negley, whose division was in the advance on the road leading to the bridge on the direct Tullahoma and Winchester road. We were deployed on the right of Negley's division, and moved forward in the direction of Elk River bridge. Skirmishing commenced early, and con- tinued at intervals until late in the afternoon, when we struck a column of rebel infantry and cavalry marching on the Tulla- homa road in the direction of Elk River bridge. A sharp fight ensued, which lasted about twenty minutes. We, Companies B, H and D, First Ohio, and Companies A and L of Second Ken- tucky Cavalry, holding our ground against more than four times our number until our ammunition exhausted, and we were ordered back to make room for our infantry. Prisoners of the Seventh Alabama Cavalry, subsequently taken, report the en- emy's loss in this fight to have been seven killed and twenty- three wounded. We marched from that place to Winchester, at which place we arrived on the third day of July. On the seventh we were sent back to Estel Springs, seven miles from Tullahoma, to bring rations forward for the regiment. We
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crossed Elk River and procured the rations, but on returning found the river past fording and that we would be compelled to swim our horses, which we did without any accident or loss. After the horses were all over, Sergeant Bumgardner, of Com- pany B, in company with seven others, attempted to cross in a canoe. When they reached the middle of the stream the canoe capsized, and despite the efforts of a dozen of the best swimmers present, Sergeant Bumgardner was drowned. The other six came safely to shore.
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