USA > Ohio > Four years in the saddle. History of the First Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Cavalry. War of the Rebellion, 1861-1865 > Part 29
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Sergeant Bumgardner was a gentleman and a soldier the full sense of the term. It was only necessary that every one should know, to love and admire him. We all share and mourn with his friends and relatives his untimely loss.
Company B is now in fine condition for service, except cloth- ing, which is well worn, and the supply at this time happens to be short; but we think it will not be long until we have an ample supply. , C.
A Perilous Nigt Ride During the Advance Upon Cirinth, Miss.
Early in the War of the Rebellion it was my fortune to be detailed for duty at the headquarters of that noble Virginian, grand "Old Pap Thomas," under whom I served for over a year. During the advance of the Union forces, under command of General Halleck, upon Corinth, Miss., after the bloody battle of Shiloh, or Pittsburg Landing, we passed through and beyond the little hamlet of Monterey and were nearing the enemy's lines. The General, staff, and escort being in advance, a mounted skirmish line of the escort was formed under command of Lieu- tenant Barker, and was ordered to advance. We moved forward in column of fours into a heavy belt of timber, in the midst of which we were halted and ordered to see that every carbine was loaded, and the necessary instructions were given in case the enemy's position was uncovered. The command "Forward" was given, and upon reaching the edge of the timber the column was deployed and moved out into the open field and within a short distance of another densely wooded and more extensive tract, where we were halted. Of course we, or I, at least, imag- ined a rebel behind every tree, and expected every moment to see the flash of the guns and hear the whistle of the balls; but, fortunately for the, then, inexperienced line of skirmishers, the enemy had urgent business a little nearer Corinth and we were not molested. The recall was sounded and we withdrew and went into camp at the outskirts of the little hamlet. This movement was made by the General for the reason that the infantry columns were still to the rear struggling through the sea of mud, he intending to establish his headquarters for the night at this place, and in order to satisfy himself of the prox-
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imity of the enemy, he sent out this skirmish line of his escort, as no other troops were near. After having made the necessary preparations for some sort of shelter, we being without tents for the night, and had just about completed a "couch" without the "down," in the shape of a section of bark stripped from a large tree. I carefully placed pieces of timber and bark in as dry a spot as I could find, and then the bark previously provided was laid on top of this superstructure to keep out of the mud, which was almost deep enough to sink one "out of sight" with- out these precautions. My saddle was placed for a pillow, the blanket spread and the "poncho" for cover, and was about to turn in, when the Lieutenant rudely disturbed my anticipated "snooze" by ordering me to saddle my horse, take carbine and revolver and report at once to Captain Flint, who was the Assist- ant Adjutant-General on the staff of General Thomas. It being the duty of a soldier to obey orders without question, I rather reluctantly left my quarters, saddled my horse and reported. The Captain handed me a dispatch, gave me the "countersign," and instructed me to proceed to the headquarters of General Lanman, on the right of our army, deliver the dispatch, take a receipt for the same and return in the shortest possible time. He also gave me the information that our lines and those of the enemy's were only a short distance apart, and that I should exercise the greatest caution to keep within our own lines. After receiving these instructions, it being then already dark, I started and soon entered a piece of woods where the darkness grew intense. Numerous camp-fires were seen ahead, and to- wards them I rode and was soon halted by a camp guard. I satisfied him that my business to be outside of the line was all right, and he permitted me to proceed. I managed to get through these woods all right and had an open space for quite a distance, and then again into the woods. I did not ride very far when a sharp and determined "Halt, who comes there?" startled me, in fact, scared me so that I imagined my cap was slowly moving in the direction of the tree-tops. However, I managed to reply, in time, "Friend, with the countersign." The cheeky infantryman compelled me to dismount and at the point of the bayonet received the magic word. He was, however, not satisfied until he had called the Sergeant, who permitted me to pass and also gave additional instructions. I got along all right for some time, but got into trouble once more in the inky darkness. My horse stumbled on a fallen log, and down he went, but I managed to hang on until he regained his footing, and before I had time to think about my mishap I was still worse scared by one of those unseen pickets, who, no doubt, was as badly demoralized as I was by the manner in which I approached his post.' This soldier was easily satisfied that I was "all right" and entitled to pass. I was glad to find I had not struck a rebel
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picket and still without the enemy's lines, as I was outside of our lines several times. After receiving the welcome infor- mation that I was near the end of my ride - Lanman's division was next to their right - I rode on and finally reached his head- quarters without further mishap. I delivered the dispatch to the General in person, who receipted for it, noting hour and minute when received. Ile also instructed me as to the proper directions to take and the different bodies of troops through whose camps I must pass. I thanked him, bid him good night, and started upon my return. I had almost a similar experience, only I managed to keep in line of the camps, and had only the guards of these camps halt me, instead of the pickets. I finally reached headquarters about two o'clock A. M., reported to Cap- tain Flint, and then attended to the wants of my horse, after which I took possession of the bark trough, and it was some time before I got over the excitement of the night ride and fell asleep. I was a boy then, and I sometimes want to make believe I am a boy yet, but the gray beard gives that away. I am very much inclined to think that such, and still many vastly more dangerous experiences during a term of four years' active service at the front, had much to do with the change to gray. I notice nearly all of the "old boys" are stuck on the same color, but whether it was caused by similar experiences or not, it is not for me to say; but this I do say, it is a great wonder indeed that the entire crop was not lost before it had time to turn gray. .
JOHN S. DOLLINGER,
Late Sergeant-Major and formerly Member of Com- pany I, First Regiment O. V. C.
' Flags of Truce.
( The first flag of truce that came into our lines after we went into the service was in front of Corinth, Miss., about the middle of May, 1862. A general forward movement of the Army of Ohio had been made on the left across swamps, and through - dense woods and thickets, and we had some sharp skirmishing. When the line halted, the pickets were thrown well forward and the reserve was located at the "Driver House," where there were cross-roads. The Driver House was a very important point in our lines for some time, and was well known to all soldiers of the Army of Ohio on the left. Company K was detailed for picket and the videttes were in easy hearing distance of the drums beating the calls in the rebel fortifications in Corinth. We were on duty all night and the next day about noon the attention of the picket was attracted by the shrill notes of a bugle in the direction of the rebel camps, and it seemed to be slowly approaching our lines. In a few minutes a cavalry command was seen advancing with a bugle at the head of the column
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sounding the calls, and we were at first of the opinion that the enemy contemplated an attack on the outposts.
They moved steadily forward and the white flag soon ap- peared, which was quite a relief, and the reserve galloped for- ward and halted the cavalcade at the picket line. My recol- lection is that General Pegram was in command, and they had in charge a number of prisoners. The escort and prisoners were detained at the outpost until a communication from General Bragg was sent to General Halleck's headquarters. The escort was a cavalry company from New Orleans, and they were of the elite of the city, elegantly equipped and splendidly mounted. They were detained about two hours and we had a very pleasant visit, as they dismounted and Yank and Reb were soon engaged in a game of "Poker" or "Seven up."
During the truce there was no firing on the picket line, but as soon as they left our picket line and had sufficient time to get back to the main line, the pickets commenced banging away as usual, and the seeming friends of a few minutes before were again deadly enemies seeking each other's lives. Such are some of the episodes of war and, as was truly said by General Sherman, "War is cruelty and you cannot refine it." When the prisoners brought in under the flag of truce were halted at the outpost they were ragged, tired, and hungry, and we at once commenced dividing up our rations with them. I rode up to a fine-looking young cavalryman, to whom I was attracted by his unusual appearance, as his hair was very black, except- ing the eyebrow and eyelashes on one side and a streak of hair on the same side of his head about an inch wide was white as snow. I divided up my rations with him and learned that his name was Eb. Cook, that he was a Sergeant in the Fifth Ohio Cavalry and had been captured about the time of the battle of Shiloh. He had neither jacket or blouse, was in his shirt sleeves, and was very much rejoiced to get back to our lines again. These prisoners were paroled by the rebels and were sent North to parole camp by order of General Halleck. And now the sequel to this incident, which perhaps had almost passed out of my mind when I was taken prisoner a few months later.
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I was paroled and sent to Camp Jackson, near Columbus, in the fall of 1862, and one of the first men I met was Sergeant Cook, and he and I became warm friends, and this friendship continued until his death a few years after the war. We often talked of our first meeting on the picket line near Corinth, when he was foot sore, tired, ragged and hungry on that warm May day in 1862, when I divided my rations with him and "we drank from the same canteen."
Another flag of truce came into our lines when our regiment was on outpost duty near Bardstown, Ky., in the fall of 1862. The escort of the flag was commanded by Major Prentice, of
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Kentucky, a son of Geo. D. Prentice, editor of the Louisville Courier-Journal. Among the escort were some Texas Rangers who prided themselves as being very fine horsemen, and they entertained our boys by giving some exhibition of their feats by picking up hats and handkerchiefs from the ground while their horses were at full speed. Some of the boys got into a game of poker with the rebs, which resulted in a general quarrel between Geo. Pearl, of Company K, and a Texan, - arms were drawn, and the two proposed to fight it out, but the officers on both sides interfered and ordered the men to their horses, and it seemed for a little while as if we were going to have a general skirmish. As soon as the conference had been finished, they mounted and galloped back to their own lines and the truce was ended.
Geo. Pearl was afterwards killed in a fight at Lovejoy, Ga., August 20, 1864, when we were making a raid around Hood's army in Atlanta under General Kilpatrick, and at the time of his death his term of service was within about two weeks of being completed. Pearl was well known throughout the regi- ment as a brave soldier and belonged to a "mess" all of whom were canal boatmen, and the mess was known as the "hornet's nest" for the reason if you stirred one of them the whole nest would pounce on you. Their names were Lucas, Hants, Brant, Longly, Hassen, Buell, Newland, Orr and Pearl, of whom all are dead, unless it is Buell, and he was living a few years ago.]
Letter from General Thomas.
In 1868, before the death of General Thomas, he was invited to attend the reunion of the regiment. The following reply, written in his own hand, showing his high regard for the soldiers of the First, will be read with interest by every survivor.
Louisville, Ky., September 25, 1868. Captain W. L. Curry, Corresponding Secretary of the First Ohio Volunteer Cavalry,
Dear Sir - I acknowledge with pleasure the receipt of your letter of the seventeenth inst., inviting me to meet the surviv- ing members of the First Ohio Volunteer Cavalry at their pro- posed reunion, to be held at Columbus, Ohio, on the eighth of October next.
From long association with the First Ohio Cavalry, and from a daily observation of the soldierly bearing of the officers and men, I learned to esteem them as among the best troops under my command. I learn with pleasure that the recollections of the dangers, hardships and pleasure of your service have been a sufficient inducement to you to desire to have a reunion of comrades in arms. I shall have to decline your invitation to be present with you on the sixth proximo, because it is abso-
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lutely necessary that I be in Washington City on that day in discharge of official duties. Hoping that you may have a most cordial reunion, I remain yours very truly,
GEO. H. THOMAS, Major-General, U. S. A.
War Reminiscences.
* By M. T. Vanpelt, Company H.
The spring of 1862, if it had not given a new aspect to the progress of the war, had at least brought to the people north · and south, as well as to the rank and file of both armies, a clearer realization of the magnitude of the struggle in which they were engaged. The North, at last aroused by the disasters of Bull Run, Ball's Bluff and others, but now hopeful from the victories of Mill Springs, Forts Henry and Donelson, were giving united support to war measures of gigantic compass, while the South, heretofore boastful in their expectation of an easy con- quest of a soldier and people, toward whom they had manifested the utmost contempt, now seen by the steady front maintained both upon the open field and in front of defenses, were to be feared if not respected; and by the wide sweep of the Union armies far into the South, transferring the scenes of actual war to their very doors, now began to realize that the independ- ence of the Confederacy was not so certain after all. So the First O. V. C., belonging at that time to General Thomas' divi- sion, or the "Army of the Ohio," as it was called, and a part of Buell's army, with Grant's army concentrated on the west bank of the Tennessee River at Pittsburg Landing, and with Buell's army marching through Tennessee from Nashville to join him, we were at last in the enemy's country, where at any moment in our marching and scouting we were liable to become engaged in conflict with the enemy. It was two Sergeants from our regiment that as scouts successfully passed across the state of Tennessee and through the enemy's lines, carrying a dispatch from Buell to Grant announcing our march to his support.
Our regiment, divided up into companies and battalions, scouted upon the flanks of the marching army and guarded and protected the moving wagon train and the line of march, the army marching in brigades and divisions, General Nelson taking the lead, with baggage and supply trains between. Just before leaving Columbia it was reported that a Confederate force of cavalry at Pulaski threatened our line of march and perhaps the supply depot at Columbia, and a battalion of our regiment, under command of Major Scott, was ordered on a secret march . to that point, with the view of surprising and capturing or dispersing the same. On a rainy evening we received orders to provide ourselves with three days' rations and fifty rounds of
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ammunition. None knew of the purpose of the scout other than perhaps the commanding officer. The writer being with the company at the time was permitted to go. We assembled after dark on the pike just outside of Columbia, and after a short inspection as to the character of our mounts, counting off by fours and throwing a strong guard to the front, we faced toward Pulaski and commenced an all night's march of fifty miles. It had been raining at intervals for several days, and commenced with the march and rained without intermission all night long. We reached Duck Creek - I think it is a tributary of Duck River - within one mile of Pulaski just as day began to break, to find the bridge torn up and the creek so swollen by the rains as to seem dangerous to attempt to cross it. Here was a "fix." The town nearly in sight, or would be when light enough, and the rebels supposed to be there in considerable force. After an examination up and down the stream for some way of getting across, finally some of the officers selected a place where it was easy to get down and up the banks, plunged in, calling on all who could swim to follow. The current carried them down the stream some distance, but they landed safely. The most of us commenced undressing ourselves to follow, taking off our heavier outer clothing, wrapping them around our carbines and the sabres and revolver belts around that, so that we could hold them up and out of the water. We plunged into the swift, muddy current, and about seventy-five or one hundred of us got over. Many of the men refused to take the plunge. While taking such care of my clothes, my gun and revolver, I forgot all about my haversack that contained all my rations, which was tied at the cantel of my saddle, among which I had provided myself with some ginger snaps, cheese, etc., and by the time that haversack had washed through and under that muddy current for a hun- dred and fifty yards it was so mixed with clay and mud and horse-hairs that I could not tell any part from the others. But we had no time to mourn the loss of grub. Hastily dressing our- selves, we formed on the pike and some eight or ten of us took the advance and with carbines at an advance we charged down the pike and entered the village about the time it was broad daylight. We of course expected every moment of our advance to receive the fire of the pickets of the enemy, if not the whole force somewhere in ambush. But not a living person was to be seen at first, which looked and was suspicious, and we feared some trap. But just as we reached what appeared to be the center of the town and had drawn up, we of the advance saw some four or five mounted men skulking along the back street toward a bridge that crossed a small stream on the other side of town. We immediately opened out upon them, but they put spurs to their horses and galloped across the bridge and over the hills out of sight. Finding the rebels had left, after a
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few hours' rest we started back to Columbia, reaching there just before daylight next morning. The distance marched, I believe, in the two nights and one day was one hundred miles. It was a hard march and I remember that night on our way back we were all very tired and naturally sleepy. I had gone to sleep in the saddle during the night's march and was finally awakened by my horse rubbing up against some bushes in the fence corner. When I awoke I found myself all alone and with- out my hat, which had dropped off somewhere. As soon as I realized where I was I began to think I was in a fix or in a fair way to get in one. I could not hear or see anything of the col- umn, and from the way my horse stood I could not tell which . way we had been marching. My horse, probably growing tired, had fallen behind and finally stopped in the fence corner. Know- ing I was in an enemy's country and likely to be picked up by the guerillas or rebel scouts, I was anxious to get with my comrades again. I was afraid to ride out on the road, for fear of taking the wrong direction, but finally, getting down, I examined the tracks of the horses and found which way they had gone. I jumped back into the saddle and after a gallop of two miles or more I came upon some stragglers who, like myself, had fallen asleep and were strung out for some distance.
This beautiful historical poem, dedicated to the First Ohio Cavalry, was written by T. C. Harbaugh, of Casstown, Ohio, and was first recited by him at the reunion of the regiment held at Covington, Ohio, October 8, 1888:
The Trooper's Wreath.
(Dedicated to the First Ohio Cavalry.)
BY T. C. HARBAUGH.
O gallant men who rode to fame
With spur and blade through battle's flame-
Who mounted fast with courage true
When loud Kilpatrick's bugles blew-
And sabred hard beneath the sun Where Chickamauga's waters run,
I would entwine a wreath I've made
With love around each trusty blade;
And o'er the graves of comrades dead Earth's sweetest blossoms I would spread.
All are not here who rode afar To duty 'neath the southern star;
Some hands have left for'er the rein,
They will not clasp the spur again; Your bugles sounding far away Would never break their sleep today;
' And all your war steed's thund'ring tramp Would not disturb their silent camp.
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With shattered health and many a wound You meet once more the camp-fire 'round; I see the marks of time today, In feeble steps and locks of gray; The spring has left the warrior's heel, The hand doth shake that drew the steel. I ask myself: "Are these the men Who galloped once through battle's glen? Are these the boys who thundered down, With shout and yell through alien town?
Then they were young, but now behold! A lot of troopers growing old!" No more their brightly burnished blades The sunlight kiss in Southern glades; No more their golden pennons fly Against the far off Georgian sky. Their gallant steeds no longer neigh To meet the enemy in gray; The crimson spur and warrior's plume Lie mingled on Kilpatrick's tomb!
There lingers in your memory still The close, hot fight at Perryville; .
This is the day that marks it well, With all its rain of shot and shell,
, And you have met, as oft before, To fight that glorious battle o'er. But other fields which I could name Re-crown your well-won wreath of fame. There is a stream 'neath spreading pines Where once you closed your battle lines; Upon its banks at close of day; In death's embrace your comrades lay; Yes, near its little crystal bed The North's one Millikin fell dead;
. And there in Murfreesboro town, The gallant Moore his life laid down, To you who all your dead revere, Stone River's name is doubly dear.
Another leader, brave and true At Chickamauga fell in blue: A wreath that ne'er shall fade away Upon the breast of Cupp I'd lay, And one for Emery, nobly brave, Who fills a loyal soldier's grave. Let Mission Ridge, renowned in war Tell how you won another star; Let Kenesaw and Lovejoy, too, Retouch with pride your coats of blue. Remember how the noble Scott Went down amidst the carnage hot; Recall how Allen, in his youth,
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The flag of Freedom, Right and Truth, Heroic bore amid the strife, And sealed its triumph with his life.
"The names of all your dead are dear, Their deeds on honor's roll appear; The wreath that decks the private brave Adds lustre to the colonel's grave; Where Glory guards the soldier's sod, Rank is unknown, or lost, thank God! There all are equal, in their blue- The Private and the Colonel, too.
The raid is o'er; no more you ride With clanking saber far and wide; No more doth Wheeler fiercely low'r Around your flanks at midnight's hour; You knew his tricks; you followed fast, And beat the sly old fox at last. No more for you the fevered cot, The ebbing pulse, the forehead hot; But when the hour of death came nigh- Aye, when some comrades had to die, A loving hand was near, and true, As gentle as a woman's too. He lives who cooled the burning brow, You loved him then, you love him now; And 'mid the richest bloom of earth, I'd twine that love for Doctor Wirth.
Oh, heroes of the spur and blade, I envy you the name you've made! The great Napoleon never saw Your betters ride behind Murat; And braver troopers never bled Than those whom once Kilpatrick led.
A few more years and one and all Will answer to Death's bugle call; For evermore your flags are furled- Such flags! the envy of the world! The shadows of your brave videttes No longer touch War's grim lunettes, And larger grows the Silent Camp, Which Honor guards with ceaseless tramp, Think not that you have ceased to ride, As once you thundered side by side; Though frosted by the touch of age, You gallop still o'er history's page, And down the corridors of Time, Forever in our beautious clime, Imagination oft will see The First Onio Cavalry! ,
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Recollections of the Battle at Stone's River, Tenn.
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