USA > Tennessee > The military annals of Tennessee. Confederate. First series: embracing a review of military operations, with regimental histories and memorial rolls, V.1 > Part 16
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The Fifth Confederate took no prisoners. I do not mean that we carried the black flag, but simply that those who surrendered were ordered to the rear, and we went on; at least I only remember one, and that was during an alignment, after routing several lines in succession, and it illustrates the nerve and humor of an Irish soldier. Private - was lying on the ground with a leg badly shat- tered by a ball, and asked to be carried to the rear (we had no litters in this fight, and traveled too fast for a field hospital, if we had one). No one volunteering, he picked out a big Federal standing near who had just surrendered, and asked a friend to give him a lift. It was given, and as we moved again to the front we saw him
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riding his prisoner to the rear, and heard him whistling "The girl I left behind me." It may be a peculiar fact with regard to these men, but I never heard one of them "holler" when wounded.
Among so many instances of gallantry on both sides, I am loath to leave Mur- freesboro without complimenting the other side. Our regiment was in the artil- lery road referred to, having driven the enemy from the bushes on our left, and being hotly engaged in front, when a regiment in blue, forced out by Gen. A. P. Stewart on our right, moved by the left flank at double quick, right-shoulder shift, across our front, taking our well-directed fire at fifty paces without altering their pace, or to the best of my belief changing the step of a single man. I saw only one field officer. He rode a fine black horse, wore no uniform, only the rank on the shoulder; but he fell, and his horse ran into our lines.
I have heard that this was a part of Col. Roberts's brigade of Vancleve's divis- ion, and that they were regulars; but regulars or volunteers, I called a cheer for them as they passed out of range. One other incident: In our advance of the morning we had driven a line across a corn-field (near the brick house), on the other side of which a four-gun battery was still playing on us. It was a wide, level sweep, and Wood's brigade on our right had fallen back. For a moment we lay low from the rattling grape, but quick the order "Fix bayonets as you lie" passed down the line, and at once with a vell we were on the run; the line of sup- port gave way, two guns followed, the riders for the other two cut out their horses and left the gunners, the last one of whom was killed when we were in five paces of him; my recollection now is that he fell with his lanyard in his hand. (We took these guns as we did prisoners, and left the glory of their capture to others who gladly claimed it, and to-day, by public orders, have the honor. They were brass, and as I remember twelve-pounders.) Among my killed was my First Lieu- tenant, an educated Irishman, brave to a fault. He fell with his face to the foe in one of our bloodiest charges. He told me that morning as we were forming that he would die that day (this was in answer to my question why he had his new uniform on, and white kids, adding that he had saved them for this occasion, and intended "to die like a gentleman").
After Breckenridge's repulse on Friday, the world looked cold. We remained until Sunday, however, and falling back, our regiment was charged with the pro- tection of Elk River bridge at the railroad crossing. Here we threw up fortifica- tions, had two field pieces assigned to us, and with half of my company I com- menced drilling in heavy artillery. From there we advanced to Tullahoma, and went into winter-quarters; then farther on to Wartrace; and in June to Hoover's Gap; and then, being repulsed, fell back on the 28th of June, 1863, to Chatta- nooga. Chickamauga, with its glorious but bloody details, followed in September. The regiment never did better work than here. Many of my men fell; among them Morris (a noble Marylander) had a grape-shot through his lungs while making a desperate charge, dying on the field; and my brave Ragan, and only re- maining Lieutenant, was entirely disabled, a ball shattering his leg. He was a Mississippian, and had been by special request transferred to me from Stonewall Jackson's old brigade. It was here that Capt. Jim Beard fell ("the bravest of the brave"). Even to-night, as I write this story of the past, I hear the refrain of his favorite soliloquy: "It matters little now, Lorena." Capt. George Moore was also killed, and among others mentioned in orders as especially distinguished
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was Corporal Bob Coleman, to whom I will again refer. The action of the regi- ment here was such that Gen. D. H. Hill (though it was not of his command) complimented it in the most emphatic manner. "Chickamauga" was a victory, and but for another "misapprehension" would have resulted in a fearful rout, changing the face of the country, and perhaps of the struggle.
The disaster of Missionary Ridge followed. Here as elsewhere the remnant of the Fifth Confederate distinguished itself, holding the right until left alone. C'le- burne, the gallant, covered the retreating army, and, racing with Hooker for the possession of Ringgold Gap, so placed our regiment and others that he was en- abled to cripple him completely, and farther pursuit was abandoned. With this affair there is nothing in history comparable, except the Pass of Thermopyl and the Bridge of Lodi. The army was saved, and from Dalton to. Atlanta there was a running fight for near three months, that brought to the front all the skill. abil- ity, and courage of both sides, the history of which in detail cannot be written. Our regiment was under fire nearly every day, and while the losses were not heavy, the hardships were greater than if engaged in pitched battles. (There is a depression in retreat, and a corresponding esprit in the aggressive, that cannot be understood without actual experience.) Minor battles were fought at Resaca on the 14th of May, 1864; at New Hope Church, the 26th and 27th; at Kennesaw Mountain, the 27th of June; and Atlanta was reached on the 9th of July. When on the 20th Hood ( who had succeeded "Old Joe" on the 1Stli) went out of his works, and the battles of the 20th and 22d were fought (and better never fought), our regiment took its usual share, but lost more in prisoners than in killed and wounded. It was here at Peach-tree Creek, on the 21st, that our reg- iment in some movement became entangled in the woods, and Lieut. Richard Beard, Bob Coleman, and Asher Stovall, were separated from it; and now follows a bit of history not generally known. Those three (the two latter carrying guns) in attempting to rejoin the regiment struck a road, and at that moment the gal- lant and gifted Gen. McPherson (Federal) and staff were riding down the road facing them; at sight of the Confederates the Federals checked up, and before they could turn Coleman singled out Gen. McPherson and sent a ball through him. (Stovall's gun was unloaded.) He was dead by the time he reached the ground. Coleman and several others were shortly afterward taken prisoners, and on his way to some Northern prison arrived at Utica (I think) on the same day that the remains of Gen. MePherson reached there. Coleman always regretted this hot so fatally made on the impulse of the moment. He was as modest and un- assuming as he was true and brave. He finally died of wounds received at Mar- freesboro and Chickamauga.
After the engagement at Jonesboro, on the 1st of September, the regiment re- joined the main army, and commenced the Tennessee campaign, which resulted in the battles of Franklin, on the 30th of November, and Nashville, on the 15th and 16th of December, 1864. The battle at Franklin was the bloodiest of the war. Cleburne was killed at the works. He sought out onr regiment, charged in and with it, and died with it. He could have selected no better place. Just here I want to say that I never saw him in a fight without his uniform, and he often went with the skirmish line. Next morning there were but twenty-one lett. Their blood ran in the ditch in front of the works. I desire to place three names in this sketch: Dick Cahill, John Porter, and Joe Sears, before the charge was
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ordered, agreed to go over the works or die; that they were neither to assist any one or each other. Sears was killed before reaching the first works, Porter was shot through the head, falling between the lines, and Cahill's body was found next morning ten feet inside of the inner works, with four bayonet wounds through hint. This was near the gin-house, and directly in front of where Cleburne fell. The first day at Nashville was a success, but on the 16th fresh troops in overpow- ering numbers, well clad and well armed, were hurled against our poorly clad, half-starved men, shivering in the cold winter blasts, and the men who a few days before, at Franklin, had charged over open ground covered with well-appointed artillery, protected by lines of abattis, heavy earth-works, and crowded with mus- ketry, and took them, after a stubborn and bloody engagement, gradually gave way, and turned their backs in hasty retreat. The Fifth Confederate was in Granbury's brigade at Franklin, he being killed in the charge. It fought in Go- van's brigade on the right at Nashville; Capt. Cox commanding it at Franklin, and Capt. Smith ( late Superintendent of the Memphis and Little Rock Railroad at Nashville, and who, as senior officer, continued in command until the final surrender. It became Co. I in the consolidated Tennessee regiment under Col. Tillnan and Lieut .- col. Luke Finlay.
Though few in numbers (truly the skeleton of a once grand regiment), it main- tained its history at Nashville, and followed the ragged but beloved fag in the retreat, which, for hardship, hunger, and actual suffering, was only equaled by the retreat from Moscow. Corinth was finally reached, where the scattered bands were put in shape, and ordered to North Carolina for a final struggle.
The history is now short, the end nigh. Bentonville was fought on the 19th of March with success, but after this Gen. Lee was forced to surrender; and to prevent a protracted guerrilla warfare, which under the circumstances would have been the result of a continuation of the struggle, Gen. Johnston surrendered his army at Greensboro, N. C .; and on the 26th of April, 1865, the Fifth Confederate laid down ten guns and went into history.
The hero-worship (amounting almost to idolatry) on the one hand, and the sympathy and admiration on the other, that existed between this regiment and Cleburne was remarkable, and can only be partially accounted for by their com- mon birthplace, their thorough devotion to the Southern cross, and the ties that bind men who have often met a common foe in the death-grapple. The snows of twenty winters have covered his modest grave at Helena, Ark., but now the mention of the name of Pat Cleburne brightens the eye and quickens the pulse of every man who had the fortune to fight under him. A born soldier, he was in battle the embodiment of war, and as a General in his position I think he had no superior; and withal he was as modest and true-hearted a man as wore the gray. It ought to be the pride, as it is the duty, of the historian to give this dead hero "a white stone."
It is impossible to give the names or number of the killed and wounded of this glorious regiment; it was emphatically a fighting regiment. The men, for the most part had no homes; they neither asked nor wanted furloughs; the army was their home, and they said there. There were very few desertions or trans- fers. Being an Irish regiment, and the country in a state of blockade, there was but littie recruiting done after its organization; but I feel safe in saying that not
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over one hundred were living on the 26th of April, 1865, and that all the rest died on the field or of wounds received in battle.
The Irish name is associated with all that is true to allegiance and gallant in arms, and while no monumental brass commemorates their deeds in the New 'orld, their friends across the Atlantic are assured that the name and fame were up 'Id by the Fifth Confederate. Their bones lie on every battle-field from Bel- mont to Bentonville, and at the last roll-call they can proudly answer to their names.
On fame's eternal camping-ground Their silent tents are spread, And glory guards with solemn round The bivouac of the dead.
DEATH OF CLEBURNE .* VIRGINIA A. FRAZER. I. THE gray war-horse, impatient, champs his bit, His spreading nostrils sniff the coming fight, But still as stone his rider's eagle eye . Looks on the serried lines that meet his sight.
Each feature tells a tale they may not know- A volume may be spoken in each breath; But grave and stern, with silence on his lips, The gallant Cleburne waits the charge of death.
Behind their works loom up the lines of blue, Before, the timber felled by cautious hands To break the ranks of gray; 'twixt these a floor, To thresh with leaden flail the Southern bands. "Charge!" wildly, with the ringing rebel yell That flings its piercing echo on the breeze, The men, like gray stars on a somber field, Crash through the crackling limbs of fallen trees.
"Charge!" and the horse no longer paws the earth, For in the front, with Cleburne at their head, His men advance, to sternly do or die- Their death-march sounding in the rattling lead!
Again they move-above the deafening roar Of belching guns the weird yell rings again, And in the flash it seems the gates of hell Had yawned wide as they gained the open plain!
There was no time for parleying or fear. What though the men were grain before the flail? What though their works were only bloody dead? 'T was victory or death-they could not quail!
* This tribute to a grand character, forever identified with the history of Tennessee, was written in 1883 by a young girl of Memphis, as a special contribution to this volume. It is printed without emnendation or addition.
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The storm of shot, and bursting of the shell, And sweep of hurtling grape with burning breath, Pour on the Southern host, undaunted, yet Still facing close the horrid hail of death!
And in the storm the stern form and his horse Gleam like an upraised statue through the cloud; The flying bullets, whizzing, pass him by; Ay, even death seems loath to weave his shroud!
The outer works are carried! on and on! For victory smiles. On with the rebel yell! Scale now the inner works, or let the guns Of foes shout out a glorious funeral-knell!
They knew not how it was-a rift revealed The horse and rider, then the scene was dim; But on the inner works the death-hail rang In dying Cleburne's ears a battle-hymn!
II. 'Tis midnight's hour, and through the lifting clouds The struggling moonbeams gaze on Franklin's field, Upon the war-stained corse of friend and foe, And weirdly kiss the lips forever sealed.
The ghastly calm seems steeped in human gore, The ditch bears in its depth the bloody tide; The cold December winds mourn round the spot Where Cleburne, with his charger, nobly died.
No more for him rings out the battle-ery, No more the stern lips echo back its tone; And as in life he led the Irish bands, In death his life-blood mingled with his own.
III.
The hand of Time plows deep the battle-field, For at his voice the thundering cannons cease; The sword is rusting-from its unused sheath The spider swings the gauzy flag of peace. Throughout, the city " wears a sable pall -. Remembering in love her silent guest; Just at the water's edge the steamer waits, To bear lamented Cleburne to his rest.
In reverence grouped around the hero's corse, The honored and the humble silent grieve, When through the throng a brawny arm makes way, Its useless mate a ragged, empty sleeve.
*General Cleburne's remains, long after the war, were removed to Helena, and were es- corted from the depot through Memphis to the river by ex-Confederates and citizens.
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No sound breaks rudely on the solemn hush: The crowd falls back, and at the coffin's head The grim form kneels to make the sacred cross Above the cold heart of the hallowed dead.
The upraised eyes are hard with harder life, Unused to weep; but as the prayer was done, One big tear splashed upon the coffin-lid- Loved Erin's tribute to her hero son!
FIRST TENNESSEE INFANTRY. BY SAMUEL ROBINSON, NASHVILLE, TENN.
VOLUNTEER STATE. Whence the name? For many long years it has been ap- plied to the State of Tennessee, and so applied from the willingness and alacrity with which Tennesseans always responded to the call to arms on all occasions when their services were required, whether in repelling an alien foe, fighting the Indians, or invading a foreign country. If we search for the origin of the name, we may go back before the sixteenth star shone brightly in the spangled canopy of the States of the American Union-ay, it even antedates the existence of the ter- ritory to a time when the hardy pioneers, the over-mountain men, more than one hundred years ago, under such indomitable spirits as Col. Isaac Shelby and Col. John Sevier, united their brave mountaineers with Col. Wm. Campbell, of Virginia, at Sycamore Shoals, on the Watauga, marched across the mountains, and, joining Cols. Cleveland, McDowell, Chronicle, Hambright, and Williams, followed. and defeated the British and Tories from the lowlands of North and South Carolina, upon the over-memorable field of King's Mountain. These men were volunteers, and their descendants-no matter under what political banner they may have allied themselves, no matter whether they followed the stars and bars of the "Lost Canse" or stood by the old flag of the Union-have on all ocra- sions shown that they were true sons of noble sires. Among these brave over- mountain men of the old North State no Tory found a place of welcome. The history of the War of 1812, the Creek War, the Seminole War, the struggle of Texas for her independence -- for it was Tennesseans who mainly did that noble work-the Mexican War, and, last but not least, the great Civil War between the States, all prove that Tennessee's well-earned name of "Volunteer State" was gallantly maintained wherever they handled a musket or manned a battery.
In the last great struggle Tennessee volunteers enrolled under the Confederate banner one hundred thousand strong, besides about thirty thousand on the Union side. The readiness with which they enlisted on the Confederate side will be shown by the fact that on the first call many regiments had to return home from want of arms, and there were eighty-one infantry regiments, twenty-five cavalry regiments and battalions, and eighteen batteries enrolled in the Confederate serv- ice. But war is horrible at all times, and the country overrun by armies for years feels the desolating effects; and Tennessee felt all that is horrible and heart-rend- ing in the four years' struggle. Many a hearthstone was deprived of those who in peace had gathered around its altais. Many a home was laid in ashes. Many
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a gray-haired father and mother, separated from their beloved sons who had nobly volunteered in the Southern cause, were sent to prison or driven farther South as refugees among strangers.
But I am digressing. It is of the First Regiment Tennessee Volunteers that this article is intended to treat. They enlisted at the first sound of the call to arms. I wish to leave on record a lasting memento of their gallant conduct, noble endurance under the most trying circumstances, and of the bravery that al- ways impelled them to cheerfully and willingly do their full share of duty, how- ever arduous, in times that tried men's souls. My brave comrades!
During the latter part of April, 1861, three companies, known as the Rock City Guards, were organized in the city of Nashville, and on the 2d day of May the following companies were mustered into the service of the State, and known as the First Regiment Tennessee Volunteers: Co. A, Rock City Guards, of Nashville, Captain T. F. Sevier; Co. B, Rock City Guards, of Nashville, Captain J. B. Craig- head; Co. C, Rock City Guards, of Nashville, Captain R. C. Foster, 4th; Co. D, Williamson Grays, of Williamson county, Captain James P. Hauna; Co. E, Ten- nessee Riflemen, of Nashville, Captain George Harsch; Co. F, Railroad Boys, of Nashville, Captain John L. Butler; Co. G, Brown Guards, of Maury county, Cap- tain Geo. W. Campbell; Co. II, Maury Grays, of Maury county, Captain A. M. Looney; Co. I, Rutherford Rifles, of Rutherford county, Captain Wm. Ledbetter; Co. K, Martin Guards, of Giles county, Captain Hume R. Field.
At the election of field officers, Captain George Maney was elected Colonel; Captain T. F. Sevier, Lieutenant-colonel; Captain A. M. Looney, Major. Lieu- tenant R. B. Snowden, of Co. C, was appointed Adjutant; Dr. Wm. Nichol, Sur- geon; and Dr. J. R. Buist, Assistant Surgeon. Lieutenant Jos. Vaulx was elected Captain of Co. A in place of Captain Sevier, and Lieutenant R. W. Johnson Captain of Co. H in place of Captain Looney.
Thus organized, and fully armed and equipped, the regiment went into camp at Alisonia, in Franklin county, seventy-six miles from Nashville, on the Nashville and Chattanooga railroad, and called it Camp Harris, in honor of Gov. Isham G. Harris. After remaining there a short time we were removed to Camp Cheat- ham, in Robertson county, six miles from Springfield, on the Edgefield and Ken- tucky railroad. At this camp the regiment received thorough instruction in Hardee's tactics. Here, notwithstanding the strict schooling which they under- went, the boys all seemed happy and contented. But this happiness and the novelty of camp-of-instruction life were not destined to last. Tennessee having in June, 1861, decided by an overwhelming majority to unite with the Southern Confederacy, on the 10th of July orders were received to repair to Virginia. The next day tents were struck, the cars boarded, and the journey to Virginia com- menced. Reaching Nashville that afternoon, the regiment was elegantly enter- tained by the ladies in the grounds of the Nashville Female Academy, and that night started for the seat of war, all in high glee and full of life.
The first encampment was at Johnson City, Washington county, where we re- mained one week. Leaving there on the 21st of July, we went to Lynchburg, Charlottesville, and Staunton, and then, after another week's encampment at the latter place, we were again aboard the cars and westward bound, stopping at Mill- boro, where we left the cars and took up the line of march to join the Army of the North-west under Gen. Robert E. Lee. On to Warm Springs, and then to Hunt-
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ersville, Pocahontas county, Va. Here a week's stay, and then Big Spring and Valley Mountain, where we were joined by the Seventh Tennessee, under Col. Robert Hatton, and the Fourteenth, under Col. W. A. Forbes, forming Anderson's brigade of Loring's division of the Army of the North-west. While at Valley Mountain Capt. Craighead, of Co. B, forwarded his resignation, and Lieut. John Patterson was elected Captain in his stead. Capt. Johnson, of Co. II, resigned, and Lieut. Henry Webster was elected Captain of this company.
The encampment at Valley Mountain was a most delightful one, the men en- joying themselves in various ways, until one afternoon a courier arrived at Col. Maney's quarters with orders for the regiment to report to Gen. Loring. While Col. Maney was reading the order, a sudden volley of small arms resounded through the mountains, and some one, thinking the Federal troops had attacked Gen. Lee's position, ordered the long-roll beat. This startled the camp, and in an
instant every man was at his gun; cartridge-boxes were adjusted, guns seized, and the regiment was soon in line. Many were in their shirt-sleeves; no blankets were taken. With nothing save the clothing that was on their bodies at the time, the regiment marched up to Gen. Lee's head-quarters and reported for duty.
It was almost dark when we reached the top of the mountain, and we found there was no attack, only a regiment that had been on picket duty were shooting off their guns in order to clean them, and we had to go to Mingo Flats, some eight miles distant, on picket duty. Without rations, without blankets, and many without coats, we took up a night march, and reached our destination at about twelve o'clock. We stopped in a big meadow -- the grass waist-high and wet with a heavy dew. We built pens of rails, and rested as best we could until near day- light, when we moved to a better position, where we remained on duty for two days, and then returned to camp.
The trip to Mingo Flats gave the First Tennessee a little foretaste of what was to come afterward. Gen. Lee, a few days after, determined on a movement against the enemy, who was holding a fortified position at Cheat Pass, on the road from Monterey to Beverly. This was indeed a very severe and arduous trip. Rain poured down in torrents, rough, craggy mountains were crossed, and through a dense wilderness that looked in places as thoughi no human being had ever pen- etrated it, the march was made, the hardship endured, in endeavoring to carry out the orders of the commanding General. One afternoon, while resting quietly, the regiment, which had been marching on the left in front that day, was fired into by a body of Federals in ambush, and one man of Co. H was killed and two wound- ed. Four companies of the left wing, under Capt. Field, charged the bushes and drove the enemy ont. Before the firing took place, two men who were sent out as pickets were captured. Col. Rust, in command of the Confederate forces co- operating on the east side of Cheat Pass, failing to gain his desired position on account of high water, Gen. Lee returned to Valley Mountain, where, in a short time he received information that Gen. Rosecrans was changing his base of operations, and was on his way to Kanawha Valley for the purpose of trying to capture Gen. Floyd. Gen. Lee at once broke up camp at Valley Mountain and moved to the aid of Gen. Floyd, who had taken position on. Big Sewell Mountain, some twenty-five miles west of Lewisburg. The third day out it com- menced raining, and continued all day and all night, thoroughly drenching the men now scattered for miles, who found shelter for the night as best they could.
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