USA > Ohio > Four years in the saddle. History of the First Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Cavalry. War of the Rebellion, 1861-1865 > Part 36
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Our paroles were signed by a Colonel Frank Breckenridge, and after we were paroled Colonel Breckenridge made us a speech in which he said "we had fought them well, and if we were exchanged and returned to our commands, they would fight us again like gentlemen; but if we joined our commands again before being exchanged, if we were taken prisoners they would hang every d-d one of us." He then advised us to get a white cloth and carry it on a pole, so as to keep any scout- ing parties from firing on us.
A short distance after taking up our line of march for our own lines, we came to a little town, named Mt. Hope, and here we bought a vard of thin, narrow muslin, which would now sell for about four cents a yard, and for which we paid a dollar and a half. We put this on a pole and gave it to a wild Irish- man, who belonged to some infantry regiment, to carry, and he ran away from us the first day and reached our lines about a day ahead of the cavalrymen. He confiscated our flag of truce and we never saw nor heard of him afterward, and we still mourn the loss of that dollar and a half yard of muslin. The last day of our march, before reaching our lines at Tuscumbia, Ala., we sick boys hired a citizen to hitch up a dilapidated pair of mules to an old wagon and haul us to our outposts, paying him fifty cents each, and when we reached the pickets he stopped and refused to go any further; but as it was two or three miles to Tuscumbia, we pressed the old planter in and compelled him
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to go on, much to his disgust, as he was afraid his team and wagon would be confiscated.
On reaching the command we found that our old friend Bynum at Courtland, who professed to be so loyal to the Union, had piloted General Armstrong's cavalry through the mountain paths into our camp, notwithstanding the fact that we were guarding his cornfields at the time. We were only prisoners a short time in the hands of the enemy, as this was before the days of establishing those horrible prison pens, such as Ander- sonville, Saulsbury and Florence. We were sent to Camp Chase, Ohio, and were exchanged and returned to our regiment sta- tioned at Lavergne, Tenn., about March 1, 1863.
But I would not go through the same experience again as I did the day I was captured and take my chances of being shot and then of being murdered by the big rebel Sergeant who threatened to take our lives in cold blood, for the whole Southern Confederacy.
Reminiscence of the Battle of Chickamauga, Clipped From a Newspaper Article.
In answer to a question regarding the battle, Colonel Curry said: "Yes, I was in that battle and commanded a company in the First Ohio Cavalry. I do not know that I could describe the fight better than to quote the words of General George Crook, who commanded our division. In a conversation a few years after the war he said: 'We got into a hot place at Chick- amauga.' We were under fire perhaps a hundred times, includ- . ing battles and skirmishes, but this was the only fight I was in during my service in which I 'threw up the sponge' and thought I was going to be killed. I do not know why it was, as I had been in some pretty hot places before, but I had a premonition that I would be killed. Our division reached the battle-field .on Sunday morning, September 20, 1863, about nine o'clock. We marched up through McLamore's Cove with McCook's divi. sion on Saturday, the nineteenth. I was on picket all night. -The weather was clear and cold. Next morning we all felt tired, - sleepy and worn out. We were in the saddle at sunrise. March- ing a few miles, we were ordered to deploy and move forward - toward Glass' Mills, on Chickamauga Creek, about a mile and . a half southeast from Crawfish Springs.
"It was a beautiful Sabbath morning. The sun was shin- ing brightly. Not a leaf stirred. It was ominously quiet. Not " a sound was heard excepting the sharp, quick command of the officers forming the lines. Staff officers dashed here and there carrying orders. I tell you, boys, the stillness that often pre- cedes a battle is awful. It tries the nerves of the bravest soldier. It seemed especially oppressive that calm Sabbath morning.
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"Before our lines were formed and ready to move forward a rebel battery posted on a hill across Chickamauga Creek, about a thousand yards distant, opened up on our lines and the shells were crashing through the pine trees above our heads. You could hear the command, "Steady! Steady!" down the line as men and horses became a little nervous. I commanded next to the right flanking company of the regiment, a company to which I had been assigned only a few weeks previous, and the men were comparative strangers to me. I rode out in front of the company and looked down the line of officers toward the left of the regiment and saw my old company, in which I had served two years, forming on the left flank; and as it seemed evident we were going to get into a hot fight, I made up my mind that I would be killed and wished myself with my old company. I felt that should I be wounded or killed, my old boys would see to it that I did not fall into the hands of the enemy; whereas the soldiers in the company I was com- manding had known me for so brief a time, that I felt they would have no particular interest in my welfare other than they would in any officer or soldier of the regiment.
"But I did not have very long to reflect on the subject. The skirmishers were moving out and my company and Company G of the same squadron were ordered to the right to protect the · ford. We were soon in the fight. At every lull in the firing I would think of my first impressions in the morning, that 1 `would be killed. As the battle raged and we were driven back and Colonel Cupp, commanding the regiment, was mortally wounded and my own horse was shot, I still felt confident that I would be wounded or killed. One man of my company had been killed and five others wounded. I was dismounted, and as we fell back slowly, stubbornly contesting the ground, I saw our regimental butcher riding to the rear, leading the horse of a trooper which I recognized as the horse of Sergeant Irwin of my old company. Bodkins, the butcher, informed me that Irwin was severely wounded and was in an ambulance. I then mounted Irwin's horse, and found the saddle and horse covered with blood, which had run down over both fore legs and hoofs of the animal. The balls were still cutting the brush and trees on every side. A strong line of dismounted cavalry of the enemy was sweeping up through a cornfield in our front. Our squadron was soon in imminent danger of being cut off and captured. We moved to the left and rear and formed on the second line, near Crawfish Springs, where we stood in line of battle for two hours awaiting the attack of the enemy. But they had got enough of it and, instead of attacking, they fell back and marched up on the east side of Chickamauga Creek to Lee and Gordon's Mills and then marched to Crawfish Springs,
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arriving and taking possession of our hospitals at the Lee House about 5 o'clock P. M.
"After the battle had ended and I realized that I had escaped without a scratch, while I felt very thankful, still it seemed to me that things had gone wrong - at least not as I expected. The thought of the early morning, that I would be shot, had been before me like a specter all day. No, I was not frightened or any more nervous than I had been in any other fight.
"While I was cool and self-possessed all day, yet I never was in a fight before or after that affected me as I was affected in that battle.
"Yes, you will find it the experience of every soldier that in many instances in a skirmish or picket fight he lost his head more than in a hard battle. Many men and officers who were brave to a fault would get rattled at times, and at other times would be as 'cool as a cucumber.' I know that was my own experience. No, you cannot tell what any soldier will do until he is tried under fire. Often some little pale-faced sprig of a boy would go into the hottest fight without showing any signs of fright, and the bully or street fighter would cower with fear. It is a soldier's honor and high sense of duty, as he touches elbows with his comrades, that keeps him in the fight. The soldier who is spoiling for a fight at all times is usually, when the test comes, like a case of milk sickness, 'in the next township.'"
Field Service in the Hospitals in Camp and on the Battlefield.
My dear Curry : - I am in receipt of your kind note request- ing me to write an article for your history of the First Ohio Vol- unteer Cavalry regarding the medical service in the army as it was then, my experience on the march, in camp, on the battle- field, in the hospital, and especially in the field at Stone River and Chickamauga, believing that it would be interesting to the "boys"-meaning of course the surviving members of the regi- ment.
While I feel very willing to oblige you, and through you, "the old boys," I am at the same time very diffident about at- tempting the task before me, for various reasons. Unfortunately all notes and records of what befell me (chiefly in letters to my family) have been lost, and my memory has become dimmed by age, so that it is impossible for me to give anything like a con- nected and complete history of the medical department of our regiment. Further, while I have gone through many thrilling scenes during my three and one half years of service in camp and hospital, I have not the gift of relating them in a manner that would make them appear interesting and life-like to others. This I regret; but I shall nevertheless attempt something, and if it should be found by you and the boys too dull and heavy and
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uninteresting, you and they are entirely at liberty to "skip" it. So here we go:
I was mustered in as Surgeon of the First O. V. C. on the 10th of October, 1861. The regiment was then in Camp Chase. All companies were full, but without horses and arms, which were, however, furnished a few days later, when military life began in earnest. It was drill, drill with the men all day and theoretical instruction all evening. I had been in West Virginia Assistant Surgeon of the Ninth Ohio Infantry all summer, had been active in two battles-Rich Mountain and Carnefax Ferry- and was therefore not unacquainted with military life and my duties as a medical officer.
A regiment was then entitled to a Surgeon, an Assistant Surgeon, and a Hospital Steward-the latter to be appointed by the Surgeon. My first duty was to appoint a Steward, make requisitions for medicines and instruments, and organize my de- partment; select nurses, ambulance driver, cook, etc., with the approval of the Colonel. All officers and men will know what it means to organize a thousand men coming from all walks of life, some well educated and many scarcely at all, but all wholly un- acquainted with military life and duties, into battalions, com- panies, squads, and platoons, and teach them the various duties of a soldier. No doubt many mistakes and blunders were made, sometimes laughable and sometimes more serious, as for instance when the gallant soldier, standing guard, put the Commander- in-Chief of the camp into the guard-house because he had for- gotten the countersign (given out by himself). Now I do not mean to say that the recruit made a blunder, but certainly the Commander of the camp did by forgetting his own countersign.
However that may be, it was not all smooth sailing in my own department. I had selected for my Steward a trooper who represented himself to be a member of my own profession, and whom, consequently, I felt inclined to favor. He was a pleasant, jolly fellow, and we got along capitally as long as we both had nothing to do, but when our medical supplies came my trouble began. Among these medicines were a dozen or two bottles Spirit Frumenti, Spirit Vini Gallici and also several gallons of alcohol,-very important medicines in the different diseases and injuries which are apt to befall a soldier, but rather injurious when taken indiscriminately. I very soon found that my Stew- ard became more jolly, more boisterous, and sometimes-espec- ially toward evening-even quarrelsome and inclined to insubor- dination. I also found by a casual inspection of my supplies that a frightful large number of my Spirit Frumenti bottles were empty. Putting this and that together, I asked him for an ex- planation, intimating that he drank and got drunk on the whisky and brandy furnished by the government for medical purposes only. "You wrong me," said he, putting his hand to his cap and
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standing in proper position; "indeed you do. The whisky has been used strictly for the purposes for which it was issued."
"How do you make that out? I certainly have not pre- . scribed more than half a pint since it is here, and here are six empty quart bottles!"
"You see it is this way. At Surgeon's call you have repeat- edly ordered castor oil for a soldier having bowel complaint, with a little whisky after it to take the nasty taste away. Now being a physician myself, the boys of my company frequently come to me when their bowels trouble them and I give them the same dose. It is excellent treatmen, but of course takes con- siderable whisky. There are so many of them and their num- ber increases. It must be in the water."
The situation and the impudence of the man were so comical, that I could not help laughing and forgiving him, taking the pre- caution, however, of putting the balance of the spirits under lock and key. To my sorrow, as I discovered later, I neglected to put the alcohol also out of his reach.
The next day I was compelled to go to Columbus and was detained until after dark. On nearing my quarters I heard a howling and yelling and laughing, as if a parcel of Indians had been let loose, and entering the room I found my Steward with two or three companions performing a war-dance and singing, "We won't go home till morning," and on the table the alcohol bottle, a pitcher of water and a sugar bowl, which furnished all the ingredients for a very strong punch. I was so taken partly by surprise and partly with indignation that I was speechless. So were the visitors, who sneaked away before I could find words to express my sentiments, while my Steward put himself, as well as he could, to attention, and saluting, addressed me as follows: "Sir, I have to report that everything in my department is in excellent condition! I take this opportunity to resign my posi- tion, believing from your looks that it is not healthy for me to remain."
His successor was a civilian, a real druggist, who came highly recommended, and who certainly was accomplished and competent. He condemned the conduct of his predecessor very strongly and, gave me to understand that he was as much op- posed to the use of intoxicating liquors as Neal Dow himself. However I was soon to learn to my sorrow that this was not strictly true, unless that venerable gentleman was himself sub- ject to occasional relapses. The regiment was ordered to the front. It was transported, men, horses, and baggage, to Cincin- nati by rail, and from there by steamer to Louisville, where we went in camp. Several transports being used for the embark- ation of men, horses, and baggage, and the Steward being left in charge of the hospital stores, I was astonished on my arrival to find the goods but no Steward, and ascertained subsequently
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that he had stayed in Cincinnati in such a condition as would have made it utterly futile for him to walk in a straight line, or any line whatever. "He was d- drunk," said my informant, and I never saw him again. By this time the government allow- ing two Stewards to a Cavalry regiment, I selected two privates, E. M. Doty and J. C. Caldwell, who proved to be intelligent, in- dustrious, and willing to perform their duties, and from their entrance I had no more trouble in this department.
Shortly after my arrival at Camp Chase Dr. John Canaan was appointed Assistant Surgeon of the regiment. He was of English birth, but educated in this country. He remained with the regiment during the war and became its Surgeon after my resignation. He is so well known to all the surviving members,' that it is unnecessary to enter into his history. He died many years ago at his home in Lorain County.
The First O. V. C. was on the whole perhaps as healthy as any regiment in the service, the men and officers with a few ex- ceptions being perfect specimens of vigorous manhood, mostly farmers' boys and strong mechanics. Only twice during my service were there any large number really sick, and this in the first winter of our field service at Camp Buell, near Louisville, where an epidemic of measles broke out, which was severe, and was followed in many cases by pneumonia, which proved fatal in one case; while several cases had to be discharged subse- quently on account of chronic lung trouble. Then in front of Corinth, on the battlefield of Shiloh, many were attacked with camp fever and diarrhea, among them myself, so that I had to leave for home. Ordinarily the attendance at Surgeon's call was not large.
Every morning the Orderly Sergeant of each company brought those that claimed to be sick and unfit for duty to the Surgeon for examination and treatment. Now the complaints were often of a very trifling or obscure and contradictory char- acter, so that I could not help suspecting that the soldier was more after an excuse from an unpleasant duty, than relief from actual suffering. In such cases I invariably gave the invalid the benefit of the doubt, but made him swallow in my presence a harmless but disagreeable dose, such as castor oil or quinine, and usually had the satisfaction of seeing him next morning ready for duty. However, when the order for breaking camp came or a fight was in prospect, these men invariably reported themselves well and I frequently had to use my authority to send men, really sick, to the hospital, who would insist on marching or going into battle, when they were physically unable to do so. There is no discount on the bravery of American soldiers.
While it is the soldier's duty in battle to kill and wound as many of the enemy as possible, it is the Surgeon's duty to save as many lives and to relieve as much suffering as possible, and
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this irrespective of friend or foe. Nor does the soldier himself show other than mercy to the wounded enemy when the battle is over. This is civilized warfare as contra-distinguished from savage warfare, where the wounded enemy is as mericlessly butchered as if he were encountered with arms in his hand. It is a noble duty that the Surgeon has to perform, and a hard one I assure you.
Where a general battle is to be fought, certain preparations are made. The medical officers do not remain with their com- mands. They are under the immediate direction of the medical director of the army, generally an experienced Surgeon of the regular army, who designates each Surgeon and Assistant Sur- geon his place and duty. Temporary hospitals are established in houses, churches, or where they are needed; in some secluded place near the line of battle, but protected as much as possible from the stray bullets of the enemy. These places are invariably marked with the hospital flag, as much for the purpose of direct- ing the wounded to them, as for informing the enemy of the nature of the place and the character of its occupants. Some surgeons are sent into or near the battle line with attendants and stretchers and ambulance to pick up the severely wounded and bring them to the hospital, where some surgeons apply bandages, others select the cases requiring immediate amputa- tion, and others still are continually engaged in cutting off arms and legs. It is a gruesome place, such a temporary hospital dur- ing and shortly after a battle. The ground is drenched with blood, and heaps of shattered legs and arms lie around promiscu- ously. Some of the poor fellows die under the knife, some shortly after, and some even before an effort can be made to save their life or relieve their sufferings. And there they lie, for there is no time to bury them.
It is clear that when our line gives way, such a hospital is first to fall into the hands of the enemy, and surgeons, attend- ants and wounded become prisoners of war; for it is a sacred duty with a surgeon never to leave the wounded to save himself though he may be able, under the circumstances, to run as fast as anybody. This happened to my friend Doty and me in the memorable battle of Stone River.
The surviving members of the First O. V. C. will never forget Stone River, for here it lost some of its most distinguished members, of which I need only mention Colonel Millikin and Major Moore, although many more equally brave, if not as dis- tinguished, laid down their life for their country and the restora- tion of the Union.
On the advance from Nashville toward Murfreesboro I was mostly in the company of Colonel Millikin. We had frequent conversation about the impending battle. He knew more of our own strength and position and of the enemy's than I did, and
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seemed altogether in a more serious mood than I had ever seen him before. In light of subsequent events I am almost inclined to believe that he had a premonition of his fate. The night before the battle we spread our blankets in an abandoned negro cabin, slept in our uniforms, ready and expecting to be alarmed at any moment, and in the morning we joined our little stores and had breakfast together. At daybreak the regiment formed and be- fore we mounted he said to me, "Let us shake hands, Doctor. This will be a hot day for all of us and we may never have a chance to do it again." Silently I grasped his hand, alas! for the last time. Shortly afterward we were separated.
Captain Cupp, who was on picket duty with his company, sent an orderly to me to come and assist one of his men who was - seriously wounded. Doty and I went with the messenger and soon met the Captain with his company and the wounded man on a horse, held up by a trooper on each side. In the far distance the enemy was plainly visible in force and the intervening cot- ton-fields covered by our infantry rapidly retreating toward us. Seeing a hospital flag on a cluster of farm buildings not far in the rear and to the left, I directed the man there and followed immediately. The house was already filled with wounded, but we found a place where we (Doty and I) could strip the man and dress his wound. While thus employed I heard the terrible rebel yell that nobody, who has once heard it, forgets in fifty - years, and immediately our hospital was surrounded by a regi- ment of Texas Rangers and we all were prisoners of war. Al- most before we had time to realize our position we were - sur- geons and attendants - hustled into the yard, questioned as to our name, rank, regiment, etc., and then paroled on condition that we should strictly attend to our work; and while we were given the freedom of the grounds, we were warned that any attempt to reach the Union lines would be made at the risk of our lives. It is needless to say that we lived up to the con- dition of our parole. We had no other indignity offered us than the jeers of some of the men about the "cowardly Yankees," how they had run, how the army was in full retreat to Nashville. Having no means to ascertain the truth or untruth of these asser- tions, we were in our then state of mind only too ready to believe them, and felt accordingly depressed and unhappy. The fact the sound of the canonading was retreating more and more gave indeed some color of truth to their statements.
Our horses and whatever in our possession that struck the fancy of our captors was unceremoniously confiscated. We em- ployed the day in picking up more wounded and making them as comfortable as possible. A rumbling farm wagon served as ambulance and did valiant service until late at night, when the driver declared that neither he nor the horses could stand it any longer. In fact, we were all utterly exhausted; but there
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was no rest to be thought of. Word came that a house a mile or two distant was full of wounded and not a single person with them able to take care of them. Doty and I and a Ken- tucky surgeon volunteered to at once to go to their relief.
Weary almost to exhaustion we dragged ourselves along until we arrived at last at the house, and, I believe, not a minute too soon. The house was a new one, as yet unfinished, for in front of the fire-place were deep holes, probably designed to be covered by hearth-stones. The whole ground floor was covered with wounded men, whose moans and cries for water could be heard from a distance. The night was bitter cold, but a bright fire, made of cedar fence rails and posts, burned in the fire-places. There were no guards, no nurses. By whom the fires were made and kept up, I do not know; possibly the only one who could have done it was our informant, who stayed behind, believing himself entitled to a rest, as undoubtedly he was. However, we came just in time to extinguish flames in a number of blankets with which the poor fellows were covered-too severely wounded to do it themselves. From this time we had our hands full keeping up the fires, quenching the feverish thirst of the men and guarding against a conflagration, for the sparks from the dry cedar posts frequently flew a distance of several yards. All night we were engaged in walking from place to place with a tin cup and water bucket, which we used as much to extinguish incipient conflagration as to quench the thirst of the sufferers. I honestly believe that if we had relapsed one half hour in our vigilance or fallen asleep, house and all in it would have been consumed. That was a terrible night, that New Year's eve! It was the longest and most dreary night I ever lived, but it came to an end at last. A rebel officer appeared in the morning re- questing us to report to the provost marshal in Murfreesboro. When asked what was to become of the men whose wounds needed dressing, and above all, who were starving, he assured us they would soon be taken care of and urged us to be prompt, as we were needed in Murfreesboro. So ended the first and commenced the second day of the battle of Stone River for us.
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