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 41
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Arthur Peace Lyon.
the manner you have heard. If the Sergeant had been captured, instead of shot, I would have exchanged the rebel General for him, had he remained in our hands, without the slightest hesita- tion ; and although, on the official records, our expedition with its capture of prisoners and artillery is considered quite a success, yet I assure you there is not a man in the command who would not have given them all back if that would have restored your brave and generous boy to life.
"But this is war, and only by such costly sacrifices does it seem that Providence is willing that our beloved country should be saved.
"I will close this letter by assuring you that with the scarred remains that we sent home to you from Huntsville went the heart- felt sympathy of every man in the Regiment for those who, al- though nearer to Sergeant Lyon in blood, were only a little nearer in ties of affection than themselves.
"I am, yours very truly, "WM. J. PALMER, Colonel Commanding, "Fifteenth Pennsylvania ( Anderson) Cavalry."
During the battle of Indian Creek, mentioned by Colonel Pal- mer, we met the enemy's skirmishers, who were gradually forced back until near their line of battle, when they made a stubborn resistance, compelling our skirmishers to dismount. Sergeant Lyon, however, remained on his bobtailed gray and rode through the timber, a regular target for all the Confederate bullets. I begged him to dismount, but he refused, saying, "There is not the rebel bullet made that will kill me." My attention was soon called to the fact that Lyon had been wounded, and on looking up I dis- covered that one ball had struck the horse's shoulder, nearly dis- abled his left leg and covered his side with blood; another had struck Lyon's left arm above the elbow, passed under the skin, lodged between the shoulder blades, and carried with it quite a wad of clothing, making a very painful wound. While being helped on his crippled horse, from the field to the rear, he shouted to me, holding up his shattered arm: "This is good for a fur- lough," showing his absolute unconcern at the thought of death, and I hope changing his opinion that "the rebel bullet was not made that could kill him."
After his return from the Knoxville campaign little opportunity was afforded for him to achieve distinction until called out after "Hood's pontoons." Of this campaign I know nothing, as I had
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received a commission in the Eighteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry and had left for that command on the 27th of November, 1864.
We, in our frequent plans for our future careers, had built castles, not in Spain but in Mexico, and had fully decided that after the termination of the war we would go to that country and fight against Maximilian. I little thought then that when I bade him good-bye it would be for the last time.
Colonel Palmer has testified very fully as to Lyon's bravery, honor and fidelity, but in his chivalry and reverence for all South- ern women he was unexcelled by any gentleman, North or South. Never, at any time, would he permit any of them, whether Union- ists or Confederates, to be molested or insulted in any way.
I am pleased even yet to hear the compliments to his military glory, but I realize that my comrade is with the silent throng and hears them not. What would a living soldier not give to win such tribute from his commanding officer ?
After Sergeant Lyon's death a Second Lieutenant's commission was received bearing the date of Dec. 28, 1864, the day he led the charge on Colonel Wine's regiment below Decatur, Ala., and cap- tured prisoners and two pieces of artillery.
The following inscription on his tombstone, at Port Henry, N. Y., is an enduring testimonial to his bravery:
Died for his Country. Arthur P. Lyon, 2d Lt. 15th Pa. Cav. Was killed at Red Hill, Ala., on 15th of Jan., 1865. Aged 24 years.
[Other face.]
Lieutenant Lyon led the advance guard of his Regiment and captured the rebel General Lyon, who, after he surrendered, shot Lieutenant Lyon through the head, killing him instantly. His re- mains were sent home by his Regiment under escort, with the message from his Colonel, "He was the bravest man in my Regiment."
"HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD."
CORP. SMITH D. COZENS, COMPANY L, PHILADELPHIA.
M UCH of the little story that follows has been a matter of confidence between Bratton and myself during all these years.
Serg. Arthur P. Lyon was killed on Sunday morning, January 15, 1865, just before the break of day, at a place called Red Hill, near Warrenton, Ala., some miles south of the Tennessee River.
It is not my intention to go over the story of our brave com- rade's death, but rather to tell how Lyon's body was taken from ยท that place to his home.
As with one other comrade I stood in front of that old farm- house, with the body of the Sergeant, clad in his greatcoat, lying on the porch, a bullet hole in his left temple and the blood slowly trickling over his face, I realized that the Regiment had lost a valuable man, and myself a friend with whom I had been pe- culiarly intimate. The firing in the road and field beyond and back of the house had ceased, and the boys were rapidly gathering to- gether the prisoners and horses that had been captured in this successful attack, when Lieutenant Hinchman and one other mem- ber of the Regiment rode up, and after discussion, the Lieutenant thought it best that the body of the Sergeant should be conveyed to where the Regiment was, some yards down the road, and there await orders from Colonel Palmer.
With another comrade we carried the body out into the road and unhitched the Sergeant's horse, which was fastened to the palings. The comrade who was with Lieutenant Hinchman held the horse while the three of us tried to place Lyon in the saddle. We got him properly placed after considerable difficulty, and succeeded in tying his arms around the horse's neck, and in trying to fasten his legs under the horse the animal became very restive and reared up, throwing the body to the ground. I can remember distinctly the horror of our little party at this accident as we picked up the body from the hard, frozen ground and placed
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it upon another horse which was not so restive. We were then joined by two or three other members of the Regiment, who assisted, while one of them and myself held the body upon the horse, another led him down the road to where the Regiment had moved on ahead. Lieutenant Hinchman then left us, and after traveling probably about a mile he joined us again, having pro- cured an old carriage, and the body of the Sergeant was placed in it, the Lieutenant getting in and driving, and in this way we re- joined our companies.
The Regiment crossed the Tennessee River on gunboats, and on the night of the 17th inst. we arrived at Huntsville, pretty well tired out, and encamped in a piece of woods, four miles out of town, the officers' quarters being in a large house at the edge of the woods. We reached camp late, and it was not long before the most of us were sound asleep.
I can remember distinctly that I was awakened by someone loudly calling my name, and as the Colonel's orderly stumbled and climbed over the sleeping comrades toward me, he said that Colonel Palmer desired me at headquarters immediately. When I reached the house I found the Colonel and most of the officers assembled in a large room, drinking coffee, etc., and as I entered the room the Colonel looked up, and with that peculiar twinkle in lis eye, said : "Cozens, how soon can you get ready to go home?" Hardly comprehending him, and looking down at my too well- worn clothes, I said, "Colonel, I am ready now." All laughed, and the Colonel said to me, "You will turn over to the Quartermaster Sergeant of your Company all property in your possession except your saber, belt and pistol, and report at the railroad depot at 6 o'clock in the morning, and take charge of the body of Sergeant Lyon, and I want you to take it home, and say to his mother, expressing my deep sympathy for her loss, that 'her son was one of the bravest men in my Regiment, and I deeply deplore his loss.' When you reach Nashville you will take this letter to General Miller, commanding that place, where you will receive the required authority for you to proceed on your journey." He also gave me an order on one of the leading houses in Nashville for $100.
In the early morning I walked to the railroad depot and took charge of the body, and shortly afterwards the Colonel's orderly
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"Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead."
handed me a letter directed to Mrs. Lyon. At the same time com- rade William L. Bratton, of Company A, reported to me that by order of the Colonel he was to be my companion on the journey, for which I was very glad, as Bratton and I had been personal friends for a long time.
We started for Nashville, Bratton and I and Lyon's body being the sole occupants of a freight car, and a long, cold and miserable ride it was. We seemed to go about a mile an hour, and then would stop every little while. We became so cold that finally, to- ward night at one place we stopped, got out and put in the car a lot of wood and a large piece of sheet iron, probably about four feet square, and then shut the doors, and in a short time had started a small fire on the sheet iron and got a little warmth, and finally fell asleep. When we awoke it was daylight. The piece of iron had become heated and burned a large hole in the floor of the car, and finally, fortunately for us, had cooled.
At the next stopping place we conveyed the body of the Ser- geant to the next empty car, and took possession as innocently as you please. We reached Nashville, reported to General Miller, and were furnished by him with an order for our trans- portation going and returning and a pass through all guards and picket posts.
It was necessary to have the body properly coffined and em- balmed, and that with the express charges cost us within a few dollars of our $100. I think we had between us five dollars. We reached Louisville in good time, banqueted at the usual place, "Soldiers' Rest," and then crossed the Ohio River. After that every mile counted to two men who had not seen home for two years and three months. I shall never forget when we reached Crestline-how we went into the dining room there, with sabers dangling, dirty and nearly ragged; but we fared sumptu- cusly off some of those five dollars. We passed Pittsburg, then across the mountains to Harrisburg, Lancaster, and finally the goodly city of Penn loomed up in the distance.
Before leaving the train we hunted high and low for Lyon's body, but we could not find it anywhere. However, we went home, and the next morning Bratton and I, having procured some good clothes and looking like two new men, started for New York. On our arrival there no trace of the body could we find,
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but, after inquiry at the railroad depot, were finally assured that the body would arrive safely at its destination in due time.
On the cars going up the Hudson River everyone on the train seemed anxious to know what two armed cavalrymen were doing up in that part of the country, traveling northward. We told the story how Lyon was killed by General Lyon, and then someone else would want to hear about it, and about the time the story was half told another would want to know about it, and before an hour had passed everyone on the train had been in to see us and hear the story. We reached Albany and made more inquiries about the body, but without success, and finally reached Whitehall about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, which was as far as we could go by the cars.
The stage (or sleigh) which was to take us the balance of our way to Port Henry had four occupants-the driver and myself on the front seat and Bratton and a young lady, returning home from school, on the back seat. I always liked Bratton, but I dis- covered that night that selfishness was his besetting sin. He and the girl monopolized nearly all the rugs, and I almost froze to death during the long hours we rode right up through the center of Lake Champlain. The snow was so deep that you could hardly distinguish where the lake was. We changed horses two or three times, and each time, against the protest of the driver, I went into the warm rooms at the relay, and at one place an old man gave me a big tumbler full of apple-jack, and I drained it to the bottom, and it was to me just as so much water.
Some time after midnight we reached Port Henry, stiff and frozen, and went into the big hotel, where I planked myself down alongside the red-hot stove, and was hardly civil to Bratton or anyone else. We sat there until morning, and then condescended to tell the people what our business was. Everybody knew Arthur Lyon. Was he killed? How did it happen? Where is his body ? Bratton and I began slowly to realize that we were not in the most pleasant situation. Aye, where was the body ?- that was the ques- tion.
We ascertained that Lyon's folks lived about a mile from the village, and the landlord hitched up his sleigh and we soon arrived at Lyon's home. It was a sad and sorrowful scene-mother, sis- ters and relatives-and it wasn't long before the house was full,
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"Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead."
and we commenced the old story over again in all its details. The Colonel's letter and message were delivered, and then we sat down to await results.
During the afternoon anxious inquiries were made of us as to when the body of Sergeant Lyon might be expected, and we assured them that it would be there soon. Night came and no word of our charge. Everybody around the country for miles soon knew what had happened ; and when it is remembered that we were not far from the Canadian line, and that during the entire period of the war we were the only soldiers who had ever been in that part of the country except someone of those living in the vicinity who had been enlisted and returned home on furlough or discharge, the gay jacket of the Andersons, even if it was a little faded, with the new clothes that we had bought, made us con- spicuous objects everywhere we went.
The next morning Bratton and I went into Port Henry and worked the telegraph for all it was worth from every point from Cincinnati to New York, but without success, and at last con- cluding that something must be done, as every preparation was being made for the funeral, it was agreed that I should start back over the route and leave Bratton there to do the best he could.
That night I started, and the next morning as I stepped off the train at Troy I saw the body of Serg. Arthur P. Lyon, for the first time since we had shipped it at Nashville, just about being put on the train for its journey home. I immediately telegraphed to Bratton and a heavy load was lifted off our hearts. At the funeral they took the body into the church, which was crowded with friends and relatives. After the services, Bratton, upon invitation and on behalf of the Regiment, retold the story briefly, and repeated the message I had delivered from the Colonel to the mother.
Bratton and I spent two weeks in Philadelphia, by the kind permission of the Colonel, and rejoined our Regiment at Hunts- ville just as they were being remounted, and in time to go with the boys upon the raid through Virginia and the Carolinas, to close up the war. My friend Bratton and myself discovered when our final accounts were settled that the Government was not out any on this affair, as every cent for our transportation from the Regi- ment to Whitehall and back was deducted from our pay.
OUR CAMPAIGN AGAINST COLONEL MEAD'S GUERRILLAS.
LIEUT. JOHN KNOX MARSHALL, COMPANY F, BOSTON, MASS.
F ROM the period in 1862 when our army first occupied the country around Huntsville, Ala., until the close of the war, all the mountainous country to the east of it, with its rich valleys, was the stamping ground of those irregular partisans of the Confederacy generally known to us by the term guerrillas.
They were not soldiers. They did not do one atom of good toward the establishment of the Southern Confederacy, and, in a military sense, they did the Union no harm. They were an annoy- ance to us. They would attack a small party which they over- whelmingly outnumbered, or would murder a Union soldier who straggled from his command. The last-named outrage only served to increase the discipline of our army. They pillaged from the Union farmers and made the others contribute to their support. At night small bands of them fired into the railroad trains that passed, and killed and wounded a good many men. They mur- dered the wounded Gen. Robt. L. McCook in his ambulance. They never attacked an equal number of men and never expected to. They were made up principally of the worst element in the rebel army, who had deserted from their regiments in the field, to get out of fighting, but at the same time, to keep up the sem- blance of being Southern soldiers and avoid being branded as "deserters," and to escape the conscription officers, they had joined these bands. In reality they were only murderers and thieves, banded together to better carry out their purposes, and late in the war the Confederate authorities came to this conclusion, and issued orders for their suppression.
The guerrillas were provisioned, clothed and assisted by the rebel farmers in the mountain valleys, and late in 1864 was inaugurated the policy of laying waste these places and destroy- ing the crops, so that the guerrillas would have no supplies to
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Our Campaign Against Colonel Mead's Guerrillas.
draw on. The duty was an exceedingly distasteful one, although considered a military necessity, and we were glad that so little of it fell to our share. About the middle of January, 1865, Lieut. David C. White, of Company F, was ordered to report in Hunts- ville to General Wood's headquarters, with a detail of thirty men from the Regiment. Here he was introduced to a Captain Mc- Carty, by one of General Wood's staff officers, and told that McCarty would take charge of the detail.
They proceeded to Paint Rock Valley and were there joined by the IOIst Ohio Infantry, Lieut .- Col. McDonald commanding. Here White was informed by Captain McCarty that they were to destroy all the houses in the valley that were being used as harbors for the bushwhackers and that General Wood had ordered it done. Lieutenant White felt disgusted at this character of service, but a soldier's duty is to obey all lawful orders from proper authorities, and reluctantly they started down the valley applying the torch to such properties as Captain McCarty designated were to be burned. The pleadings of innocent women and children that their homes should be saved were too much for the Lieutenant and he made a strong protest to McCarty that this was not warfare but simple cruelty and wanton destruction of property, but the Captain insisted on obedience to his orders and his orders were to direct the movements of the cavalry. They were approaching a house at this time and were met in the yard by a woman who pitifully begged they would not destroy her home, as her daughter was very sick in it and could not be moved. Just then she looked at McCarty and recognizing him asked "what he was doing with the Yankees?" White asked her if she knew him, to which she re- plied that "she had known him for years, that he owned property in the valley and had never been in the army." At this White refused to take any further orders from McCarty and took his thirty men up the valley and reported to Lieut .- Col. McDonald that McCarty was not an officer, not even a soldier, and that he declined to serve under him. McDonald told him that "he (Mc- Donald) had no orders for him; all he was to do was to support the cavalry and was glad of White's stand, as he was opposed to that kind of warfare."
Lieutenant White returned to our camp at Huntsville and re- ported to Colonel Palmer. He had misgivings how his conduct
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would be considered, as McCarty had threatened all sorts of trouble for him for disobeying the orders of General Wood. But Colonel Palmer heartily approved of his action and long after- wards the men of the Regiment learned that our Colonel had de- clined to receive any orders to burn houses sheltering innocent women and children, and protested against any part of his com- mand being used for that purpose.
About a week after, while this man McCarty was in Paint Rock Valley, he was captured and shot by those who had suffered from his vengeance.
On January 23, 1865, the Regiment was ordered to look after Col. L. G. Mead, who was known as the head man of all these gangs, and our scout was distinguished not so much by fighting as by the easy time we had of it. In fact, the talk among the men was that Colonel Palmer took this opportunity to rest up his horses and keep away from headquarters at Huntsville, where they seemed to be intently anxious to have us on the go all the time. Colonel Palmer was too good a soldier and too conscien- tious to resort to anything like this, and no doubt the object of our slow movements was to feed his Regiment at the expense of the rebel farmers and cripple the enemy by using up his stores.
The first day we camped at Widow Rose's plantation, but the next we caught a guerrilla Captain and several of his men, and went into camp at the plantation of an ironclad rebel-Mr. Toney. The next day our advance met twenty-five of them, under the command of Lieutenant Jones, and chased them two miles, cap- turing five, besides killing one and wounding another. These fellows, as a rule, had good horses, and their riders knew all the trails in the mountains so well that it was hard for us to follow them. They had no camps, but stopped at the different houses instead, and a large portion of our captures was made at them. After our chase of Lieutenant Jones' command and its dispersal, Colton's and Kramer's commands were sent around by Valley Head, while the balance of the Regiment crossed the mountain over a rough trail into Clear Creek Valley, and at Cox's stillhouse found a large party, where a short, sharp fight took place.
Around the house was a fence, which being too high for our horses to jump, halted our mounted charge. Lieut. Chas. S. Hinchman, who led the advance, turned to Philip Miller, of Com-
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pany M, just in the rear of him, and ordered him to jump off his horse and throw down the fence, but he, bewildered by the firing from the house not twenty-five yards away and by the noise and confusion, was slow in obeying, so Hinchman slipped out of his saddle and did it himself. At the same time a shot, no doubt intended for Hinchman, struck Miller and passed through his bowels. The delay at the fence had been sufficiently long to enable most of the guerrillas to escape, but we succeeded in cap- turing seven, and among them was the Lieutenant Jones we had chased earlier in the day. We camped that night at Shadrack Tipton's. Miller died that night, and we buried him the next morning, with military honors, in the woods on the side of a hill, and as a fit ending set fire to and burned the distillery to the ground.
There was a curious circumstance in the shooting of Miller. Early in the morning and all through the day Lieutenant Hinch- man had been possessed with a premonition that he would receive a mortal wound that day through his bowels, and believed he could put his finger on the spot the ball would strike him, and by no effort on his part could he get rid of that dread feeling. When the advance was stopped at the fence around the stillhouse, Hinchman was between it and Miller, and no doubt saved him- self by the quick jump he made from his horse. The shot that took Miller was at the identical spot on the body where Hinch- man's premonition told him the shot would hit him.
The next day Colonel Palmer took the first battalion off in one direction, but the balance of the Regiment did not move until I P.M., and after a short march we all came together again at Duckett's, near the mouth of Dry Valley. Mr. Duckett had three sons in the Confederate army. Here our Commissary killed and issued to the men three calves, which was enough for one day's ration.
This campaign was the most remarkable of any for its short marches we ever took. All of our scouting before and after this was signalized by hard marches-all-night rides-which used up both horses and men, and much of our sleep was had while mounted and on the march. Just now we were in a beautiful, rugged country. the weather was fine, forage was plenty for our horses and provisions for the men. After our fight at Cox's still-
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house, the guerrillas seemed to have left this part of the country, for, although they fired a few shots at our pickets one night, we saw no more of them.
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