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 24
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OUR TEAMSTERS.
JAMES M. WILEY, COMPANY M, ELMWOOD, ILL.
O NCE there was a rather vain but skillful organist in a church, who boasted, to the man who pumped the air in the organ, of how the congregation had waited after being dis- missed just to hear him play. To this the pumper did not agree, as he said he had as much to do with holding them as the other had, but the organist dismissed such a suggestion with just contempt. At the next service in the church both occupied their usual positions. The organist began by pulling out the necessary stops, and then delicately pressed the keys, but no sweet notes re- sponded. "Blow up! blow up!" he called, in a loud whisper, and just then the man who pumped the air came around the corner of the organ and inquired, "Say, is it I or we who's doing this?" That's the teamster's case. We did the hard work of the army, but the other fellows got all the praise. If it had not been for what we did to feed them and keep up supplies of ammunition, no battles would have been fought. We did lots of things which should have entitled us to medals, but instead of getting them most of those who write on the grand tactics of war blame us for some of their own shortcomings ; nor were we ever in a position that we could talk through an official report coming from us.
I was not always a teamster. Up to August, 1863, I served with my Company and tried to do my duty, and it may be on this account that Lieut. Harry Weand, of my company, when we were at Stevenson, Ala., detailed me temporarily, as he told me, to act until he could get someone else to take it, but he never found the other fellow, and I took charge of Company M team. Soon after the army moved, and my first day's march was over the pon- toon bridge across the Tennessee River, and the way the bridge swayed and shook under me as I crossed it sent my heart up near my mouth, and it was some time after we got on solid earth before I was all right again.
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Our Teamsters.
We stopped at Nickajack Cave for a day or two, and then got on the move again and tried to cross Sand Mountain, but got blocked up with the trains and had to stay on the mountain all night, away from the Regiment. We did not mind this part at all. It was the boys in camp who were put out, for we carried the provisions and those little things they needed most ; and I acknowl- edge it, now that the war is over, that we teamsters never suffered from a shortage of rations so long as any were carried in the wagons, and if we did have some hard and dirty work, we helped ourselves liberally to the crackers, pork, sugar and coffee we car- ried. We always made room in our wagons to carry skillets, coffee pots and any other cooking utensils we wanted, while the majority of the boys on the march only had a cup to cook coffee in, and to toast pork had to hold it on a stick over the fire. Yet with all these inducements we never had a rush, in our Regiment, of those who wanted to drive a team.
Just at this time the Regiment was better supplied with teams than it was at any period of its service, and I don't think it could have been excelled by that of any regimental train in the whole Army of the Cumberland. This was due to our most capable and efficient wagon master, Sam Black, who was a rough customer, with an extra-good knowledge of what was required in wagoning, and a most excellent horse thief. In the society in which we then lived this was an accomplishment ; the only disgrace was in being caught, and Black could show off his stock and tell how the best of them had been culled from other trains, and was proud of his achievements.
Black was especially good in handling a train on the march, when from five to ten miles were covered by the trains of the army. It was the post of honor to be near the advance, as that meant getting into camp in good season and more time to rest. The wagons belonging to Rosecrans' headquarters had the right of way, and the others had to move aside and let them pass ahead. In the Chattanooga campaign Black did a good deal of bluffing the wagon masters ahead of us by claiming that ours was part of the headquarters' train, and in most cases he won.
The day we got into Chattanooga we had a very hard march. We left camp at Trenton, Ga., about 3 A.M., and went about 100 yards, and then waited for an hour or two before we started again.
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History of the Fifteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry.
It was a pretty steady pull all the rest of the day. About dusk we got to Lookout Mountain, and with the usual amount of trouble got across it about 10 o'clock at night. Instead of turning to the left and going into Chattanooga, we turned to the right and went down the valley a couple of miles and went into camp. About an hour after we were quietly wakened up and told to get out and to make no noise about it, as we were close to a large rebel force. But we were not molested, and some time in the early morning hours we stopped behind our troops in Chattanooga, tired out, but safe.
It was on this day's march that our Quartermaster, Lieut. Geo. S. Fobes, took his first lesson in swearing. He was a good, kind man, respected by all and loved by many. He was always ready to assist those in distress, but his good nature and the qualities of the mules did not assimilate, and neither of them appreciated the other. He was with the train as usual, and some time during the march some kind of a muss was kicked up in one of the teams, which Fobes, being near at hand, had helped to straighten out. Mules are perverse animals, and do many things for fun which we look on seriously as a grievous fault, and so the more that Fobes tried, the worse the tangle was with the mules and their harness. At last he lost his temper and showed it. Sam Black, who was nearby, said to him, soothingly, "Don't swear, Quartermaster," who instantly retorted, "They make me so mad, I will swear. Consarn the mules !"
At the time of the battle of Chickamauga our wagon train had a very nice camp at Crawfish Spring, but we were routed out of it by some officers, who yelled to us to get out, as the rebels were coming. Then we went back to Chattanooga, and had hardly got our teams unhitched when Sheridan's Division of infantry came through our camp and began to dig up the ground and build en- trenchments. They did not tell us to get out, but simply and good-naturedly went ahead with the work they had to do, and to get the peace and quiet that mule teams crave we had to go some- where else. After this corn for animals got very scarce and neces- sitated our crossing the Tennessee River, on a shaky bridge, to get at the big fields of it on the other side. The first place we went to was down the river, toward Moccasin Point, where we found splendid corn, but had hardly got to work filling our wagons
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Our Teamsters.
when the rebels opened fire on us from across the river and made it so hot that we had to light out. After that we gathered the crops in the Tennessee Valley, but in a week or two had eaten up everything within fifteen miles of Chattanooga.
Captain Clark's Company E, being out on a hunt for forage and finding it scarce in our valley, crossed over Waldon's Ridge into Sequatchie Valley, and found it so rich in everything that was needed by our army in Chattanooga that other trains were sent there for supplies. Captain McAllister took the second one and my team went along. We crossed the ridge on the road that came down at Poe's tavern-that was the name only, for the tavern didn't have a bar, and no liquor was on hand-and afterward a long, hard pull up the mountain, and then ten miles across it to where the descent took us into Sequatchie. We got there late in the afternoon and went into camp. We heard that the rebels were farther up the valley, and a darkey who spent the night with us said General Wheeler wasn't far away. We were having plenty to eat, and as the officers in command didn't seem to be worried about it, we couldn't see any cause to be, and turned in and got a good night's rest.
The next morning the rebels came down on us in such a hurry that several of the teamsters were captured. They were the fel- lows who take a little longer to do anything than the others, for the two minutes' notice we had was sufficient for most of us. When it was seen the rebels were coming, Sam Black yelled to us "to get out the best we could." I had time to unhitch my saddle mule, jump on him and get away. Sam Black got caught, too. His horse was saddled and bridled, but was hitched to a post with one of our lariat ropes, about twenty feet long. Sam forgot to unhitch, and when he jumped on and started off at a run he only got twenty feet away, when his horse went heels over head, and before Sam could get up from the ground he was a prisoner. I kept on down the valley to Anderson's crossroads, where a road led up over Waldon's Ridge, and where there was a large supply train of several hundred wagons filled with provisions that our boys needed badly over in Chattanooga. The drivers would not believe Wheeler was in the valley, and before I got half way up the mountain I could see the rebels capturing and burning the wagons. They made short work of it.
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History of the Fifteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry.
Soon after this our regiment came into Sequatchie valley, and except those who went up to East Tennessee, in December, stayed there until the following spring. We soon got other teams from the ammunition train, and had several months of very hard work, as we had to haul supplies to the camp from Bridgeport, Ala. We were also kept hauling corn over to the army in Chattanooga. After the fall rains set in the roads were in a fearful condition, which was very destructive to mules and wagons. Before we were through with this work I believe there were enough dead mules and broken wagons which, if placed end to end, would have reached from Bridgeport to Chattanooga, over sixty miles.
I have a very vivid recollection of one trip we made to Bridge- port for supplies. There were only four teams and we had a guard of ten men, under Lieutenant Logan. We got our supplies and had crossed Battle Creek, near Jasper, when we broke an axletree. We were in a fix, and had to stop at an old barn for the night. Snow was on the ground. General Steadman's troops were near and so also was his wagon train, and we concluded to borrow one of his axles without asking, as we were afraid he would refuse, and we felt that we must have it. We did it that night, and after we got it in place and were on our way again thought it was a good joke we had played on them. But we forgot our tracks, and soon a Corporal and six men came and arrested us and took us to Steadman's headquarters. The only excuse Lieu- tenant Logan could make to the General for the theft was that we had broken down, and that he borrowed it just for a little while and intended returning it on our next trip. This did not suit the General, who said "he would teach us not to borrow in that way," and had us all in the guardhouse overnight. The next morning he sent for our Lieutenant, and told him that if he would sur- render the ones who did the stealing the others could go, and when we heard this two of the boys volunteered to bear the blame and .the rest of us were turned loose. We patched up our broken axle and started again. We were soon joined by our "two thieves," who I believe had nothing to do with it. They told us that General Steadman had told them to "go and sin no more."
When the Regiment went up into East Tennessee, the next fall. the trains were left at Calhoun, Ga., but soon General Hood swung around from Atlanta, and we were moved back to Resaca and
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Our Teamsters.
went into camp on the bank of the river. The rebels had followed us up and began shelling us, and we had to get out, and moved back to the railroad bridge. We thought it a safe place until they began to shell us again and knocked one of our wagons all tc pieces. This was a good thing for the officers who were in command of companies and were accountable to the Government for stores, for each one claimed his were on the wagon destroyed, and they accounted for the loss in that way. I was told that there was enough material claimed to have been lost in that one wagon to have filled a half dozen.
Later on in the war the company team was dispensed with, and to a great part the regimental train also. Their place was taken by pack mules, and about the only thing carried was ammunition. It was not correct to call the man who had charge of pack mules a teamster, but I fail to see why they dubbed us "the Apostles," for that is what we were called by the boys.
COMPANY L ON LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN.
CORP. SMITH D. COZENS, COMPANY L, PHILADELPHIA.
I T was the night of September 19, 1863. The first day of that awful conflict at Chickamauga or "Dead Man's River" had passed into history-a bloody page. The contending armies, mutually exhausted, sank down among the dead in those dark forests to snatch a few hours' rest ere the sun should light them again to the murderous work of battle.
Company L, under command of Lieut. Annesley N. Morton, had moved out in the morning from Crawfish Spring with the headquarters' train, and since 3 P.M. had been "standing to horse" toward the extreme left, a little east of the Rossville road. We could hear the crash and roar of the battle, the yell of the charge and the cheer of the repulse, but we could see nothing of the troops except the stragglers or the wounded soldiers seeking a Surgeon. The ambulances rolled by constantly, filled with their freight of human suffering. Toward evening Minty's splendid brigade of horsemen trotted past, in the direction of Rossville, to meet the enemy's cavalry in our rear.
Now that night had fallen and the fight had died away, the result of the battle being doubtful, we began to grow exceedingly restive. Only those who have experienced the feeling can know the misery of inactivity on the field of battle. Our Commander rode uneasily up and down in front of us. He evidently shared our anxiety, and at the sound of rapid hoofs coming down the road mounted the command in a twinkling. It was a courier bringing orders for us to make all haste to Chattanooga. The Lieutenant had the command off in a flash, and a wild and breath- less ride ensued. The road was inches deep with dust, and a trooper could hardly see the man before him. Occasionally, a little breeze wafted the dust clouds away, showing a hazy moon and along on our left the low, dark outline of Missionary Ridge, overshadowed by the lofty range of Lookout. We overtook thou-
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Company L on Lookout Mountain.
sands of stragglers, many of them wounded, and picked our way through miles of wagons, falling back on Chattanooga. We passed Gen. Gordon Granger's and Gen. J. B. Steadman's troops resting on their arms and ready to move into the fight the next morning. We reached Chattanooga about midnight, utterly worn out, for we had been unusually active on the courier line, and for four days had not unsaddled. Men and beasts threw themselves on the ground at the railroad depot and slept.
Sunday morning found us up at daybreak. We breakfasted on the remains of our rations, issued three days before, and then drew rations for the next two days. A very scant supply it was, too. That memorable starving time which is so well known to those who served in the Army of the Cumberland had commenced.
For the horses' feed we were compelled to cross the pontoons to the other side of the Tennessee River, and rummage some miles through a well-gleaned country before we could find a little fodder for them.
Returning to the town Lieutenant Morton received orders to take the company up on Lookout Mountain, scout the approaches to the summit from the other side and guard the signal station, the flag of which we could plainly see fluttering to and fro in the air. It was highly important to retain such a splendid position as long as possible, in view of the occupation of Chattanooga by our forces and the consequent advance of Bragg's army. We had a mile or so to go from where we started to reach the road that led up the mountain, and as we rode quietly along the foot of it, our little guidon, fluttering in the breeze and borne by that gallant sol- dier, Sergeant Vandling, Company L, never looked better. We numbered about thirty-four men, all well armed and equipped, though tired out by the hard service of the past few weeks. All were in good condition except my old friend Charlie Bowyer, who was a sick man and ought not to have been with us.
Shall I mention a few of the old boys as they fall under my eye as we go along? There were Jimmy Gay, Jack Strebig, Dan Scull, Horatio Oliver, Neddy Pohl, Jack Williams, Sam Jamison, Warren Supplee, Davy Holmes, Al. Rihl, Bert Price, Ike White, Harry Myers, Ned Engle, Joe Bontempts, Al. Hopkins, Bobby Hall, Geo. Shields, Joe Overholt. They were a goodly company.
We reached the road up the mountain about noon, dismounted,
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History of the Fifteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry.
and leading our well-worn animals with our arms through the bridles, commenced the ascent. Oh, that weary, panting, ex- hausting ascent of Lookout Mountain !- leading, almost dragging our weak-legged horses, and sinking down in our tracks every ten minutes to rest and gasp for breath. Not the magnificent view that stretched far away below us, nor the significant boom of artillery that occasionally came up, nor the portentous clouds of dust that hovered over Missionary Ridge, clearly indicating the approach of the enemy, could rouse our senses from the lethargy of fatigue. Mechanically we toiled onward and upward for sev- eral hours, and when, near the close of the afternoon, we dragged ourselves and our played-out horses to the upper level of the mountain, the entire party sank, gasping and quivering, upon the rocks.
After resting some time we recovered sufficiently to reach the village of Summertown, at the highest peak of the mountain. This was a handsome little place, a noted resort of the chivalry, and contained an immense hotel, in which we unceremoniously bestowed ourselves. Evidences of hasty evacuation were visible on all sides, but we found scattered through the big rooms almost every comfort commonly kept in hotels. There were pianos, sofas, chairs, bedsteads, beds, statuettes, books, crockery ware and cook- ing utensils in abundance, but not a morsel of anything to eat. The village was utterly deserted save by two women and some children, who peered from the windows in great alarm, but finding that no attempt was made to molest them or to appropriate their little store of cornmeal, they soon became friendly and communi- cative. The signal officer with his corps of three men was sta- tioned on a projecting rock, now familiarly known as Table Rock, a little distance above the hotel, and the position afforded a visual sweep that seemed to take in the whole South.
It had now grown dark, but there was no rest for the weary cavalrymen, for the roads were to be picketed and forage must be found. Leaving a small guard at the station, off we started down the ridge. How longingly we looked back at the comfort- able hotel, with its cheery fire and beds enough for the whole party, while we groped our way in the pitchy darkness until we came to the forks of the road, about seven miles from the station !
I quote my old friend Jack Williams' experience that night :
GROUP OF CO. "L" ON LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN
Lieut. A. N. Morton
A. M. Price
John P. Strebig C. P. Bechtel J. B. Kreider
Company L on Lookout Mountain. 289
"For the rest of the night we picketed the roads leading up from east to south. It was my fate to be placed at the farthest outpost, on the southern road, over a mile from the reserve. By this road it was almost certain the enemy would make his approach- whether that night or another was the only question. Oh, the inter- minable length of those "wee sma' hours," when Rudolph Birn- baum and I "stood to horse" just inside the thickets-cold, weary, half-starved and half-asleep-awaiting the tardy dawn! We ex- pected every moment to hear the sound of hostile hoofs. It seemed as if daylight would never come; nor was it the least part of our misery to see our poor brute companions gnawing the bushes around them in the extremity of their hunger. When at last the welcome sun gilded the tree tops above us and brought a recall we returned, sore and famished, to our no less suffering comrades."
Poor Charlie Bowyer was so sick that night that he could not ride. He had a raging fever, and the Lieutenant was compelled to leave him at a house near the reserve post. Nobody was at home but a woman and child, and they promised to take care of him. But the enemy found him, and took him over to Missionary Ridge, and he eventually found himself in Libby Prison.
We took up the march back to Summertown, which we reached before noon. Something to eat for ourselves and horses was now the question. We cut up all the beds in the hotel, which were made of corn husks, and fed them to the horses. In searching around we found a potato field which seemed to have been hastily dug up, and after spending some time grubbing and digging, we got enough "murphies" to furnish a couple of meals for the whole company.
Going to the cliffs we found the army had fallen back during the night, and was now occupying the hastily built works around Chattanooga. It was probable, therefore, that the rebel cavalry wasalready swarming around the mountain, cutting off our escape. Starvation or captivity stared us in the face, but we looked upon them with the stolidity of veterans. We thrummed the pianos, and lounged on the sofas and beds, trusting to heaven and Rosecrans for deliverance. Night closed the scene, pickets were put out and the reserve kept at the house, and the balance of the party went to sleep in and around the hotel.
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History of the Fifteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry.
Tuesday, the 22d, dawned on us bright and clear, and the boys were at the cliffs as soon as they could see. It was our good for- tune to witness scenes which as viewed by us have probably had no parallel in this war, and which rendered us for a time oblivious to danger and physical privation. From the overhanging cliffs we beheld the country mapped out beneath us for fifty miles around. As far as the eye could separate them appeared an agree- able diversity of wooded ridge and open plain, bathed in the sun- light, rich in the blended variety of early autumn tints, through which from east to west the Tennessee River, like a thread of silver, wound its crooked way. In the dim distance on every side the hills and mountain spurs rolled away in purple billows to the horizon. Far off in the southeast the air still looked heavy with the smoke and dust of battle. Directly under our feet, as it ap- peared, lay Chattanooga, encircled by yellow lines of earthworks which extended unbroken from the mountain to the river, and an inner circle of dark blue was still more apparent, from which the bayonets and regimental colors gleamed in the sunlight.
In the rear of the line the plain and town was dotted with in- numerable "dog tents," looking at that distance like a cluster of snowballs. Over the river were vast parks of wagons covering many acres, but at our height apparently spread over a few square yards. Still through the town and over the thread-like pontoons crawled long lines of diminutive white wagons. Jack Williams said they looked like "Queen Mab's chariots ;" Joe Bontempts said they looked like "toys." That was an absorbed group that watched these scenes from Lookout Mountain. The signal officer kept his eye glued to his glass, which was trained upon the ap- proaches to Chattanooga, for he evidently expected the appearance of the rebels. Every eye around him was on the watch, every tongue silent. Soon the atmosphere beyond the Mission Ridge grew hazy, and small clouds of dust rose slowly in the air.
The excitement of our party at this moment was intense; the stillness was so profound that the music of a band in Chattanooga was distinctly heard. Suddenly the signal officer slapped his knee and exclaimed quietly, "They are coming !" At the same time he gave some orders to his flagmen, who, screened by a thicket from the enemy's observation, waved their colors vigorously ; and sure enough, when a puff of wind lifted the hazy veil, in the distance
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Company L on Lookout Mountain.
there appeared small squads of horsemen, advancing cautiously, on the Rossville and Dry Valley roads, while behind them other distinct clouds arose, from which larger bodies of cavalry emerged.
Simultaneously, on another road farther south, leading over the ridges beneath us, we were able to distinguish the flags of other parties and the color of their horses. In a moment more little puffs of white smoke floating up from the roads and the trees, followed by the faint rattle of carbines, told that the pickets of the two armies had met again, and while we gazed, long, gray columns of infantry and strings of artillery appeared upon the roads, barely distinguishable from the clouds of dust which they created. One gun was seen to move into an open field between the two main columns of the enemy, and immediately thereafter a dull red flash came from the shot, followed by the unmistakable crash of a Napoleon gun. Instantly our guns replied, and for a little while there was a beautiful artillery skirmish, every shot being plainly visible to us. The rebel gun was the first to be silent, and we saw it withdrawn.
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