The Lone Star Defenders 18

The Lone Star Defenders 18

I soon found I was so fatigued that I could not double-quick at all, so

I slowed up into an ordinary walk. The command, in the meantime, to

avoid the fire that could be concentrated on the slough bridge, had

flanked off to the left some distance above, and crossed on chunks and

logs that had fallen in the slough. Very soon I was the only target for

the men in the blockhouse, and they shot at me for sheer amusement. At

last a ball struck me on the right thigh. Thinking it was broken, I

stopped, bearing all my weight on my left foot, and, selecting a large

white oak near by, intending, if I could not walk to manage somehow to

pull myself behind this to shield myself, I waited for “something to

turn up.” Soon learning, however, that my thigh was not broken, I moved

on. Rather than lose time in going up to where the command had crossed

and run the risk of being left behind, supposing that on reaching the

horses they would mount and move off, I determined to cross on the

bridge, which I did in a slow walk, and am sure there was no less than

a hundred shots fired at me. Somehow I felt that I was not going to be

shot more than once that day, so even after I got across the bridge

and lay down to drink out of a little pool of water in the road, their

bullets spattered water in my face. I managed to get off with the

command, and while my wound was slight it bled freely and caused me a

good deal of pain, as I had to ride constantly for several days, and

was unable to dismount to fight any more on this trip.

 

We camped not far from Davis’ Mill, and crossed the Memphis &

Charleston Railroad early next morning, cutting the telegraph wires,

tearing up the track, burning cross-ties, and bending and twisting

the rails. Leaving, we struck a gallop towards Sommerville, Tenn.,

and galloped nearly all day. Entering Sommerville unexpectedly, we

created a little consternation. There was a Union mass meeting in

the town, and, there being no thought that there was a Confederate

soldier in a hundred miles of them, they were having an enthusiastic

time. Some of the old gentlemen, pretty boozy on good Union whisky,

stood on the streets and gazed at us with open mouths. I heard one

old fellow yell out, “Hurrah for Sommerville!” Another one standing

near him yelled out, “Oh, d——n Sommerville to h——l; I say hurrah

for the soldiers!” The good ladies, however, when they learned who we

were, began bringing whatever they had to eat, handing it to us as we

passed along. Camping a few miles out, next morning we took the road

leading to Jackson, Tenn., a road which passes west of Bolivar. In the

afternoon, however, we changed our course, traveling by roads leading

eastward, and camped several miles north of Bolivar.

 

Next morning, December 24, by making demonstrations against Bolivar,

General Van Dorn induced the enemy to gather all his forces in the

vicinity for its defense, including 1500 cavalry under Colonel

Grierson, sent by General Grant in pursuit of us. We moved down a main

road leading into Bolivar from the north, formed fours, driving in

their cavalry scouts and infantry pickets to the very suburbs of the

town, where the column was turned to the right through alleys, byways,

and vacant lots until we were south of the town, when moving quietly

out southward, we thus again had all our opposition in our rear. Moving

down the railroad seven miles, Middleburg was attacked. As our troops

dismounted and formed a line, Ed. Lewis, of Company B, was killed. I

remained mounted, with the horses. The command moved up into the town

and found the enemy in a brick house with portholes, through which they

fired. This was not taken. Of Company C, A. A. Box was killed here.

After staying for two hours, perhaps, we moved off just as the enemy’s

cavalry from Bolivar came up and fired on our rear.

 

The next point threatened was Corinth, in order to concentrate the

forces in that neighborhood. Leaving Middleburg, we passed through

Purdy, took the Corinth road, and moved briskly until night, went into

camp, fed, and slept until 1 A. M., when we saddled up, mended up the

camp-fires and moved through neighborhood roads, into the Ripley road.

Reaching Ripley at noon we rested, fed, and ate our Christmas dinner.

In about two hours we moved out, and looking back we could see the

enemy’s cavalry from Corinth entering the town. They fired a piece of

artillery at us, but as they were in our rear we paid no attention to

them. Crossing the Tallahatchie at Rocky Ford we camped on the banks of

the stream. Here General Van Dorn waited for the enemy until noon the

next day, but Colonel Grierson, who was pretending to follow us, never

put in an appearance. In the afternoon we moved to Pontotoc and camped

there that night in a terrible drenching rain. We then moved leisurely

back into our lines, with “no one to molest us or make us afraid.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER X

 

THE ENGAGEMENT AT THOMPSON’S STATION

 

January, 1863—Jake Arrested—Detailed—My Brother Visits Me—Elected

Second Lieutenant—Battle of Thompson’s Station—Duck River—Capture

of the Legion—The “Sick Camp”—Murder of General Van Dorn.

 

 

“THE Holly Springs raid,” never to be forgotten by the participants

therein, having now become a matter of history, we rested for a time.

January, 1863, came, and with it a great deal of rain, making mud very

abundant and the roads very bad. During one of these cold rainy days,

who should come pulling through the mud nearly half a leg deep, but

the “aforesaid Harvey N. Milligan, late of Indiana.” He had made his

escape from the enemy, and, minus his horse, had made his way back to

us through the rain and mud afoot. “I told you Milligan was all right,”

was a remark now frequently to be heard. A day or two after this,

word came around that there were a half dozen horses at regimental

headquarters to be drawn for by the companies. I went up to represent

Company C, and drawing first choice, I selected a horse and gave him

to Milligan. During that same year he deserted on that very horse, and

rode him into the Federal lines.

 

My boy Jake having brought my horse out of the enemy’s lines, of course

I expected he would wish to return home, and I proposed to give him

the mule and let him go to his master. But no, he begged me to allow

him to stay with me, to feed and attend to my horse, do my mess duties

and such work. Of course I could not drive him off. This boy, eighteen

or nineteen years old, perhaps, became a splendid servant, and as much

devoted to me, apparently, as if I had raised him. Some months after

this we were passing through Columbus, Miss., one day, and his owner,

happening to be there, saw him, arrested him and sent him home. When I

heard of it that night of course I supposed I would never see Jake any

more, but to my surprise he came back in a short time, mounted on a

splendid mule. When I started back to Texas in February, 1865, Jake was

anxious to go with me, but I gave him a horse and saddle, and told him

to take care of himself.

 

The severe horseback service we had had since the battle of Corinth,

and our diet, principally sweet potatoes, had restored my health

completely, my wound had healed, and I was in good condition to do

cavalry service. At this time, too, I was detailed to work in the

regimental quartermaster’s department. We were ordered to middle

Tennessee, and started through the cold mud. My present position put

me with the trains on a march, and we had a great time pulling through

the mud, and in some places we found it almost impassable. Crossing the

Tennessee River a short distance below the foot of Mussell Shoals we

struck the turnpike at Pulaski, Tenn., proceeding thence to Columbia,

and then, crossing Duck River a few miles below that place, we moved

up and took position near Springhill in front of Franklin, and about

thirteen miles south of that place.

 

One evening soon after we went into camp on the turnpike some ten

miles below Columbia, two men rode into the camp inquiring for me. I

soon learned that it was my brother, accompanied by “Pony” Pillow,

who had come for me to go with them to Colonel Billy Pillow’s, who

lived on a turnpike three or four miles west from the one we were on.

Obtaining permission, I then accompanied them. My brother had been

sick for some time, and had been cared for by the Pillows, first by

Granville Pillow’s family and then by Colonel Billy’s family. He had

now recovered and was about ready to return to his command, which was

on the right wing of General Bragg’s army, while we were camped on the

extreme left.

 

I found Colonel Billy Pillow to be a man of ninety-four years,

remarkably stout and robust for a man of his age. His family consisted

of a widowed daughter, Mrs. Smith, who had a son in the army; his

son, “Pony” Pillow; and his wife. This old gentleman was a cousin

to my grandmother Cotten, and had moved with her family and his

from North Carolina when they were all young people. They told me

of my grandmother’s brother, Abner Johnson, who had lived in this

neighborhood a great many years, and died at the age of 104 years. The

next day we visited Colonel Pillow’s sister, Mrs. Dew, a bright, brisk

little body, aged ninety-two years, and the day following we spent the

day at Granville Pillow’s. Granville Pillow was a brother of General

Gideon J. Pillow, and nephew of Colonel Billy. He was not at home, but

we were welcomed and well entertained by Mrs. Pillow and her charming

young married daughter, whose husband was in the army. Mrs. Pillow

inquired to what command I belonged, and when I told her I belonged to

a Texas command, she asked me if I was an officer or private? When I

told her I was a private, she said it was a remarkable fact that she

had never been able to find an officer from Texas, and that the most

genteel, polite and well-bred soldier she had met during the war was a

Texas private. She added that while Forrest’s command had camped on her

premises for several weeks, and many of them had come into her yard and

into her house, she never had found a private soldier among them. This

was in keeping with the “taffy” that was continually given the Texas

soldiers as long as we were in Tennessee.

 

In the afternoon, bidding my brother farewell, I left him, overtaking

my command, as it had finished crossing Duck River and was camped on

the north bank.

 

* * * * *

 

Franklin is situated on the south bank of Big Harpeth River, being

fortified on the hills north of the river overlooking the town. General

Van Dorn established his headquarters at Spring Hill, about thirteen

miles south of Franklin, on the Franklin and Columbia turnpike.

Brigadier-General W. H. Jackson was assigned to duty as commander of a

division composed of Whitfield’s Texas brigade and Frank C. Armstrong’s

brigade. Many of the Texas boys were very indignant, at first, that

General Jackson, a Tennessean, should be placed over them—so much

so that they hanged him in effigy. He was sensible enough to pay no

attention to this, but went on treating us so kindly and considerately

that we all learned to respect him and like him very much.

 

Some time in the early part of this year, 1863, Colonels J. W.

Whitfield and Frank C. Armstrong were appointed brigadier-generals.

Near the end of February, I think, John B. Long returned to us, and

reported the death of our captain, James A. Jones, having remained

with him until he died in Memphis, after which J. B. made his escape.

First Lieutenant John Germany now being promoted to captain, and Second

Lieutenant W. H. Carr promoted to first lieutenant, this left a vacancy

in the officers, which was filled by my election by the company as

second lieutenant. So I gave up my position with the quartermaster and

returned to the company, quitting the most pleasant place I had ever

had in the army, for Captain E. P. Hill, our quartermaster, was one

of the best and most agreeable of men, my duties were light, and my

messmates and associates at headquarters good, jolly fellows.