USA > Pennsylvania > History of the Fifteenth Pennsylvania volunteer cavalry which was recruited and known as the Anderson cavalry in the rebellion of 1861-1865; > Part 13
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After leaving the table the planter took us into his parlor and made a request that astonished me. He said : "Doctor, my family must leave this place or they will all be killed. Will you give me a pass through your forces ?" This was piling on the agony. How could I give a pass that would be recognized by anyone? I told him so, but still he persisted : "Give me one, and I will risk the chance." At length, to satisfy him, I wrote him one, thus : "Guards and pickets of the U. S. forces: Pass Mr. Masten, planter, and family through your line to a place of safety." Strange to say, the following summer, while at Camp Garesche, I vis- ited the plantation, and met Mr. M. and family. I inquired how the pass I gave him answered. He replied that it took him through to Nashville. He was most grateful for the service. I suppose he was harmless, and both sides were relieved by his removal.
In a short time after this my Comrades were taken away, it was said to Murfreesboro, and I was ordered to get into an army wagon and take the same course. On arriving at Murfreesboro
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I was taken to a room in the courthouse. Here, after protesting strongly that I was not a prisoner, an orderly was sent with me to General Bragg's headquarters in the town, to inquire what dis- position should be made of my case. It was too late to see the General conveniently, I suppose-and what difference, anyhow? one poor Yankee doctor didn't count-and we returned. On the way back to the courthouse the orderly quizzed me about my home. When I mentioned it was in Pennsylvania, near Harris- burg, he was quite struck, and said: "Why, I am from Pennsyl- vania, too. I lived at Cornwall, Lebanon County." He said he was anxious to get out of the Confederacy, but they had too tight a hold on him, then, but that he would get away yet. He seemed to be much dissatisfied with the situation. Feeling too uncom- fortable myself at my own unfortunate situation, I did not press my confidence; and indeed the South was full of such characters as I met later on my travels-stranded, poor and yearning for "God's country." Their existence in Dixie was intolerable, for they were not fully trusted.
Next morning I was ordered up by a guard to accompany him to the Chattanooga Railroad. Here I found a long train of cars, cattle and freight, loaded with prisoners. I was placed in a car, something like a baggage car, among officers and guards-no ac- commodations whatever for seating; just standing room. Their eyes were all turned upon me, and I felt I was an intruder and out of place. They subjected me to many remarks and queries. About this time my sword and belt were noticed. They went for me-"Give up that sword ; you have no right to wear it," and ap- proached me to seize it. I told them I was a Surgeon, and that I wore the regulation staff sword not as a weapon, but as a cus- tomary adjunct to my position. This availed nothing. They were determined to have it. I said: "Gentlemen, I will not give it to you ; I am not a prisoner. If I part with it you must take it your- selves." I was crowded upon and they unbuckled the belt and took it. I threatened to expose them to the Provost Marshal at Chattanooga when we arrived there. They were cross and ugly. I got in a corner of the car, and sat down on the floor. I followed my property to the Provost Marshal's office in Chattanooga, and gave a statement of the affair. He pointed to a shelf in his office, and said : "There is your sword, but I will take care of it and re-
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From Stone River to Libby.
turn it to you another time." That's the end of the sword incident. I never saw it again.
I was told to quarter at the hotel and stay there, which I did. All this sounds well, but the reality was different. So many inci- dents were crowded in my experience during the four or five days of our detention there that I am unable to recount them in limited time and space. After my hotel experience I was sent to the hospital to mess with the Surgeons. This was a very pleasant period of my captivity, and continued for several days. Most of them had been students in Philadelphia at the University of Penn- sylvania and at Jefferson, and we were soon on congenial profes- sional ground. We harmonized on medicine, but sometimes vio- lently differed on politics. The Anderson boys were in camp beyond the town and I visited them often.
Hearing that all of the prisoners were to be transported to Vicksburg, for exchange, I called on the Surgeon-in-Chief of the district, Dr. Stout, explained to him that among the prisoners- over 1200 or 1500-were many wounded and sick, that they required a Surgeon, and that if he would give me an order to accompany them it would save the supplying of one of their own. He at once appreciated the situation, and gave me an order to that effect and also to draw supplies from the medical posts at the various points we stopped at-Atlanta, Montgomery and Knox- ville. I received on the strength of this order many articles needed for the sick and wounded during our trip. When we reached a small village, south of the Florida and Alabama line, orders were received to return, and doubling on our tracks we headed north, our destination being Richmond. This whole journey was severe, but useful and instructive. We passed through the heart of the Southern Confederacy, and discovered its hollowness and weak- ness. There were few able-bodied men in sight, they being in the front about Richmond and Vicksburg and other threatened points. Women, old men, worn-out men, crippled negroes and children constituted the population. Wherever the train stopped we were welcomed by choice uncomplimentary epithets and bold-faced chaffing. The boys were ready in answering, and returned with interest these denunciations. I was fearful lest they would go too far and some violence be offered, but beyond cuss words they escaped.
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Our trip occupied about three weeks before we reached Rich- mond. The train stopped opposite the city and the prisoners marched over the long bridge and up to Libby Prison front, where they were counted, checked off and assigned to different points. All of my Comrades were taken to Mayo Prison. I was assigned to the Libby Prison Hospital, and found myself among Confeder- ate Surgeons, who treated me very well.
My detention in Libby was of short duration-five or six days only-when, with released soldiers, several U. S. Surgeons and some citizens who had been detained for various causes, princi- pally their loyalty to the Government, we were forwarded to City Point, near Petersburg, to take the U. S. flag-of-truce boat to return to our country, via Annapolis and Washington. While promenading on the deck of the flag-of-truce boat, after it had got well under way, I was approached by a citizen stranger, who inquired if I had been a prisoner, and when and where captured. I answered at Stone River battle, near Murfreesboro. He asked me to walk to the bow of the boat, that there was a gentleman there who wished to see me-surprising me very much. I went with him, when he introduced me to two others-one calling himself Jackson, a tall, slim man-of about thirty-five or thirty-six years of age, as near as I could judge. He seemed very much interested in the news of the engagement, and at once asked if the Fifteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry were engaged and as to the casualties. I gave my version of it, and how I got into trouble. I was asked if Colonel Palmer was in command, and if not, whether I knew anything about him. "I did not. I had never met the Colonel; that since I joined the Regiment at Carlisle he was a mystery, and all my inquiries concerning him elicited the only reply, 'We don't know.'" "Well," I was answered, "you may possibly meet him in Washington." Then we separated. In due time the boat reached Fortress Monroe and Annapolis, and we disembarked and took the train to Washington.
On the first day after our arrival there I was strolling down Pennsylvania Avenue with a friend, and passing Willard's Hotel, then a great military officers' exchange, we went in, hoping to meet some acquaintances or friends. As we entered the saloon we came face to face with my flag-of-truce acquaintances. The recognition was mutual, and we pledged our meeting in some
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champagne. Mr. Jackson asked if I had met Colonel Palmer yet. I answered I had not, but I would like very much to do so. He then told me that if I would be in the telegraph office at 12 P.M. I would see him. That evening I waited around the office until after 10 o'clock, and being very much fatigued, sat down on a chair near the operator's window, determined to perform my part of the appointment. But sleep overcame me, and I did not awake until I A.M., too late for my engagement. I felt very much dis- appointed, but dismissed the matter from my mind.
After securing a leave of absence I returned to my home in Middletown. Many of my friends and acquaintances were aston- ished to see me, believing I had been lost and would never return. When my leave had expired I left home to rejoin my Regiment, then encamped at Murfreesboro. On arriving there I met some of the members of the Regiment quartered near the town, who invited me to stay with them until morning. While there, on the following morning, one of the company shouted, "There comes Colonel Palmer !" The Colonel and staff rode up, saluted, and seeing me he at once cordially greeted me. It was instant, mutual recognition-"Mr. Jackson," of the flag-of-truce boat. No allu- sion or explanation of the past was made. We knew each other.
WILL WARD'S HUNT FOR HIS BROTHER, THE MAJOR.
W. W. WARD (DECEASED).
[The following was written by Major Ward's brother Will, a short time after he returned from Murfreesboro with the body of his brother, and has never been previously published. Will Ward died in 1870. Major Ward's brother, Charles, was in the Confederate Cavalry service, and while his brother lay wounded to death in Dr. Manson's house, Charles' regiment was only a short distance away ; but they never got to see each other, al- though the Confederate officers made the effort to bring it about. The con- stant shifting of commands prevented their finding Charles until their forces were driven back. Will's experience in hunting his wounded brother had its counterpart in many families, both North and South, and is a sad history of the trials which many households passed through. ]-Editor.
O N Friday, January 2, 1863, on my way to dinner, I met a friend, who, with a serious face, said: "Do you know that your brother, Major Ward, was killed?" "No," I quickly answered. "How do you know it?" "A big fight is going on at Murfreesboro; and Frank was one of the first killed. You will hear soon enough," was his reply. I turned back and was soon in the telegraph office. The face of my friend, M. C., the super- intendent, was anything but encouraging. In reply to my inquiry he said: "Your brother is no doubt killed; read this," and handing me a copy of a telegram East, the following passage left me no hope: "Majors Rosengarten and Frank B. Ward, of the Anderson Cavalry, killed." There was something positive about the message, and with heavy heart I wended my way home to break the sad news to my parents. A bitter task it was-to tell them that their youngest son, the pride of their hearts, the hope of their declining years; the boy who had enlisted to fight the battles of his country for the preservation of the Union-and that, too, with an elder brother in the rebel ranks-to tell them that he was no more. I will not dwell on the sad scene which followed. Its counterpart has been witnessed in thousands of
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MAJOR FRANK B. WARD Mortally wounded at Stone River. Died January 11, 1863
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Will Ward's Hunt for His Brother, the Major.
family circles in the past two years. That night I watched the telegrams closely, but found not a ray of hope.
On the 3d I got my friend Mr. Bradley, of the Fort Wayne Railroad Company, to telegraph to Louisville in regard to send- ing for the body. The answer came from Col. J. B. Anderson : "Major B. is intrusted with sending for the body of Major Rosen- garten. Shall I send metallic coffin for body of Major Ward?" I answered, "Yes." On Sunday, the 4th, I searched every paper I could get, but without any encouragement. At the tele- graph office I was told that there was no doubt of Frank's being killed, as a number of messages had gone over the line in which it was repeated, but just as I started to leave the office the opera- tor called me and read the following :
NASHVILLE, January 4th. W. W. WARD :
Your brother, Major F. B. Ward, was seriously wounded on December 29th. You had better come on.
DE COURSEY.
Knowing the author, I did not hesitate a minute. It was well on to II P.M., but I found my partner, arranged business and, without luggage, started to the depot. I left Pittsburg at 1.40 A.M., on the Fort Wayne and Chicago Railroad. Through the kind- ness of Mr. Augustus Bradley, the superintendent, I had a state- room, and one just as comfortable as on a steamboat. These sleeping cars are very heavy and consequently run much smoother than an ordinary passenger car. Putting my boots outside to secure a dime's worth of blacking, I pulled the door to and retired, but not to sleep, for the excitement I had been under and was still under prevented my enjoying that luxury. About 6 A.M. we were called for breakfast, and after a hasty wash we entered the breakfast room at Alliance, where in the short space of twenty minutes an amount of food was disposed of that would have scared a Southern landlord. The cry, "all aboard !" soon cleared the room, and we were soon under way again.
At Crestline I parted with my kind friend Mr. Bradley, and took the train for Indianapolis and Louisville, where I arrived on the 6th instant, at 5 A.M., and proceeded to the National Hotel. Refreshed by a bath, I got the morning papers, but found in them
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no comfort for my particular case. Shortly after breakfast an incident occurred which cheered me a little. A reporter for the Philadelphia Inquirer went up to an officer and shook him heartily by the hand, saying: "Why, Adjutant! We have had you killed a month ago. I wrote a sketch of your life and particulars of your death, as given me by the best authority." The officer said he had heard himself that he was among the dead, but to the best of his belief and feelings he was a mighty live man yet. Surely, thought I, there is hope for me yet.
Finding that I could not leave Louisville without a pass from General Boyle, whose office was not open until II, I sauntered up to the depot and called on Colonel Anderson, the Military Superintendent of the L. & N. R. R., who told me he had sent a colored man on with coffins for Majors Rosengarten and Ward. When I told him that my brother was alive at last accounts, he seemed much pleased, and said he hoped he might not need the coffin for many years. Leaving the depot I wended my way to General Boyle's headquarters, and was soon in possession of that important slip of paper styled a "pass."
How little we in the North know of the inconveniences the people in the border States have to suffer under military law! In the North the only thing we see that resembles a pass is some- body's check filled up for so many dollars, and, like the pass, the value is in the signature. As there was no train until the next day, I walked around, saw many friends, and bought a leather haversack and some medicines for gunshot wounds, for, having been shot once myself, I knew from experience what to take in case hospital stores were scarce. . Before going to bed I got a servant to fill my haversack with eatables to be ready for my journey.
The next morning, January 7th, I found crowds at the depot waiting to pass the guards at the doors of the cars. Only those showing the military pass could enter the cars. Having no one to care for but myself, I was soon seated and could observe the many trying scenes. I noticed a lady crying bitterly, and on inquiry found that her husband was among the wounded. He was Colonel of an Ohio regiment. She had arrived in Louisville at daybreak, breakfasted and hurried to the depot and bought her ticket, but was dismayed, on trying to enter the car, to find that a
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Will Ward's Hunt for His Brother, the Major.
pass was necessary. A gentleman who appeared to know her hus- band took the matter in hand, and by his exertions she was pro- vided for, as I afterward noticed her among the passengers. The efforts made by some parties not having passes to get aboard were novel and somewhat amusing. A Hebrew came to my win- dow, which I had hoisted, and said in a very bland tone : "Mister, will you be so kind as to go to the other side of the car and raise a window, that I may crawl in?" Knowing the severity of mili- tary law I respectfully declined.
Another party with a clerical look approached, and with a bow said: "Sir, I wish to ask a favor of you." "Go ahead," I said. "Will you let me look at your pass ?" "Why?" said I. "I would like you to loan it to me, so I may pass the guard at the door, and will return it to you as soon as I get in." Now, while I felt a heartfelt sympathy for all who wanted to go, I could scarcely suppress the contempt I felt for this individual, but I declined to trust my pass to him.
The cry, "all aboard !" followed by a puff from the engine, put a stop to the rush, and we were soon leaving Louisville-a mixed crowd. There was a delegation from Philadelphia, one from Illinois, and one from Indiana, besides many from the Western States in parties of from three to five, and some, like myself, going alone, but all on anxious errands. There were four ladies in the party-Mrs. General Stanley, Mrs. Major Slemmer, Mrs. Colonel Moody and the lady before mentioned. All were quiet for a while, communing with their own thoughts. Gradually conver- sation sprang up on various topics. Behind me sat some farmers from Indiana, who were looking at the land we were traveling over, making remarks not at all complimentary to Kentucky farming. At one place, where it was somewhat swampy, covered with low bush, one sang out: "Look there, Aleck! what would you be doing with that land in Indiana? Let it lie idle, eh?" "Why, I would clear, drain and ditch it and raise a crop of corn." "Raise ----! you couldn't raise a crop of frogs," was the remark made by a rough fellow standing close by. Politics, war, religion -all were being discussed. Quite an exciting discussion was going on in the center of our car between a Kentucky officer and a big, rough Hoosier, on the everlasting "nigger," in which the officer got much the worst of it, in the opinion of the crowd.
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We soon arrived at Colesburg, the terminus of our steam con veyance, and here we got the first sight of the bandit Morgan's work. The depot had been burned, and from that point for thirty miles below he had destroyed everything that would burn. We rode two miles farther on a construction trestle which is about 400 feet long and 120 feet high. Here we got off to foot it, and having no baggage to encumber me, I started down the hill on a run, determined to keep the advance. I soon overtook a young man who was alone and asked him where he was bound. He re- plied : "Nashville." On my inquiring if he knew the country, he said he had run as conductor on this road for eleven months and knew it well. I told him I was alone, and if my company suited him we would foot it together and leave the crowd. He cheer- fully assented, and we struck off at a gait which was difficult for the balance to follow. Crossing the valley we had a fine view of the gap made in the road by Morgan, and, ascending the opposite hill, we took the railroad track and, turning round, our eyes fell upon a beautiful but strange scene. In the valley through which we had just passed were stationed a large number of soldiers, many of them on picket duty, while the smoke curling from their tents and huts told of life within. Hurrying along through the troops was a mixed throng which with the soldiers produced a combination of colors, suggestive of Joseph's coat. It was our company of fellow-passengers who were not so fast in starting off as we. We followed the track for about a mile and came to the tunnel. Now, it may seem a very simple thing to walk through a tunnel without a lantern, but just try it once, before you make up your mind. This tunnel is three-quarters of a mile in length and perfectly straight and level. As we entered the one end, the other end appeared but a short distance off, and the glare of light served only to blind 11s. There are three shafts for air- holes. We could not distinguish the ties, but by keeping our eyes fastened downward we could distinguish the rails, our only guide.
On gaining the outlet we found we had left the rest of the passengers far behind, excepting an old fellow from Indiana, of at least fifty years, who, with a carpetsack weighing not less than forty pounds, was hard after us. After him was a stoutly built young Ohio chap, and a Major of the Eleventh Ohio, who seemed determined to be as fast as we were. A party of five, we hurried
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Will Ward's Hunt for His Brother, the Major.
on to Elizabethtown together. While footing it we had ample evidence of how thoroughly that outlaw, John Morgan, had done his work. Every culvert that had a beam to it was burnt, and here again we made time, for we walked across the rails, while many of the party, as we afterward learned, crossed the ditches. About a mile this side of Elizabethtown my young friend pro- posed that we should take a clay road that crossed the track. Old Indiana and young Ohio objected, and said, "The track is a sure thing;" but the Major and I stuck to our guide, got into Elizabethtown, had dinner and were ready to start on to Nolin Station before the wagons with the other passengers arrived.
Having ample time to look around we here saw the damage done by Morgan to the town. A number of houses showed marks of his cannon by extra ventilators, put in on short notice. At the John Hill House, where we dined, Morgan forgot to pay his bill, when he made it his headquarters. On looking round for a conveyance for the ten miles we had yet to go, we asked one man what he would charge a passenger. "Only five dollars," was the answer. Now had we been staunch rebels we might have gone for less, I thought. After looking farther we found a farmer who was going to Nolin Station. The Major, our young guide and I chartered the wagon for five dollars, and we were on our way before our party had got to town. On the way we over- took some tired soldiers, who asked to ride. "Have you any money," asked the farmer. "Oh, yes.". "All right, then," was the answer. About two miles this side of Nolin Station all of our soldiers but one got out to join the wagon train from which they had straggled, and on the farmer asking for his pay he was told to charge it to Uncle Sam. He laughed in spite of himself. Having a creek to cross this side of Nolin Station we left the wagon, and the soldier who was still with us, paid his fare. He had about seventy pounds of baggage, as he was carrying that of a comrade along with his own; so, volunteering to help him, I took his carpetsack, and we all started across the foot log or rather tree that was felled for the purpose. It was a ticklish job for a man unencumbered, let alone with baggage. My comrades got over all right-so did the soldier; and, soldierlike, they all kept advising me to keep away from the water. Now, in all probabil- ity if they had let me alone I should have got over dry, but, just
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as I thought I was safe, in I went "ker-souse," over boot top, and then, didn't they laugh at me? Once again on terra firma I struck out in the lead, and we were soon at one of the few (not more than six) small houses in Nolin Station. As there were about 200 people to be accommodated, after engaging supper, bed and breakfast, we congratulated ourselves on being in the advance. As the passengers continued to arrive until midnight, they slept in the car or wherever they could.
On the 8th we were all at the cars long before they were ready to move, and crowding in got started at IO A.M. At the next sta- tion we took on a colored man who had two coffins in charge, one marked "Major Rosengarten" and the other "Major Ward." This certainly looked like death, but, knowing the circumstances, I tried to keep up a good heart. I saw the colored man at once. His name was Andrew Trabur, and when I told him I had strong hopes of finding Major Ward living, he wished me success. I arranged to meet him in Nashville. At Bowling Green two officers got aboard who had left Nashville that morning. On inquiring of one of them, Captain R., he told me that Major Ward was undoubtedly dead. He had heard so officially the day before. With a sad heart I took my seat, and the silence of my companions told me, stronger than words could express, that they shared my sorrow. We arrived at Nashville at 7 P.M., and hurry- ing to the Commercial Hotel I soon had a room engaged-the last one to be had in the house. We were told that we would have to go to a restaurant for supper, which I did. Eating a very frugal meal at a very luxurious price, I was soon out to hunt the Major.
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