Mixed civil war letter´s from Anthony Meeks
In the following letter Chaplain Samuel Sawyer of the 47th Indiana Infantry describes the battle with Confederate gunboats at Riddle’s Point on March 17, 1862 during the campaign for Island No. 10. The 47th Indiana was one of the units in the 1st Brigade 3rd Division Army of the Mississippi. Sawyer enlisted with the 47th Indiana on October 21, 1861 and mustered into service on December 13, 1861. He remained in the regiment until his resignation on October 9, 1864. The letter originally appeared in the Indianapolis Daily Journal on March 28, 1862 page 2 columns 4 and 5.
Letter from Gen. Pope’s Army.
The Battle with the Rebel Gunboats.
Fourteen Miles South of New Madrid,
Missouri, March 21st, 1862.
Ed. Journal: In my last letter I gave you an account of our taking Fort Thompson, at New Madrid. As the river had been blockaded at Point Pleasant, eight miles from the fort, we were puzzled to find out in which direction the rebels had fled. From the testimony of one of the Tennessee prisoners, and from all the circumstances, we became satisfied that they had gone up the river and effected a landing not far from No. 10, and with their fugitive companions in arms were making special haste to get below us on the way to Fort Pillow or Memphis. Word reached us on Sunday that a part of their force was endeavoring to land on the western bank of the Mississippi, and at nine o’clock, P. M., General. Palmer’s Division, consisting of the 43rd, 46th, 34th and 47th regiments, struck tents, and with a guide marched all night through the rain and mud. Daylight found the column at Point Pleasant, within the destructive range of two batteries of 32-pounders of the enemy. General Slack filed the column to the right, and, wading through a desperate swamp, the men moved on to a place of safety. Resting awhile for their tents and camp equipage to overtake them, the men were just beginning to feel comfortable, when General Palmer ordered them forward to our present encampment. The 47th Indiana regiment was detailed to bring one of the cannon by hand from the battery above, and plant and defend it, from their rifle pits, against the rebel gunboats which were stalking up and down the river at all hours, night and day. The rifle pits were noiselessly dug, by men who had marched all the night before, the cannon placed, and with solicitude, but with undaunted courage, the regiment awaited the issues of the day. Colonel Robinson was in command. As the day dawned hundreds of tents could be seen near Tiptonville, on the Tennessee side of the river, and two gunboats, afterwards increased to seven, hove [word not clear in original] in sight, and opened a most fearful fire upon our lone cannon and our sheltered men.
Gen. Palmer, Gen Slack, and Aid-de-Camp Daily, drew near to the regiment, but the 32 and 64 pound shot and shell literally rained around them. They protected themselves as well as they could by the large sycamores which were near, dodging the balls as they flew right and left around them. Lieut. Purviance, of Huntington, was nearly buried in his rifle pit, by the bursting of a shell. At one time during the cannonading the gunboats adopted a plan, apparently, of landing their men to capture our guns. They moved up very near the shore, when Col. Robinson gave command to the men to fire. The 47th rose up in their rifle-pits, and taking steady aim, their bullets flew amongst the gunners, who fell in every direction. The roar of the musketry came like a thunder-clap upon the rebels, and one of the boats, as she turned her course, received a shot from our cannon in the stern which sent her rolling down the river double quick, in a disabled condition. The rest of the gunboats then renewed the fire with redoubled fury. From the shore their officers could be heard distinctly berating the gunners as cowards for not standing to their posts. Exasperated by these taunts, they would pour their terrific fire upon our solitary gun, until they drew near enough to test the virtue of our good Enfield rifles—and as another wheeled back into the middle of the channel, our gunner sent a shot which made a new port hole in her side, and from the smoke which rose up, left the impression that the boiler had been reached. Thus a second boat was laid aside. Three of the others continued the firing. One of them dropped down stream, took the range of our rifle pits, and rolled her shot and shell right over our men. Some of the men thought they had heard cannonading before, but they acknowledge with one accord that they never heard anything to compare with this. Some one, not belonging to our regiment, proposed that we should spike our cannon and abandon the ground. “Never, be jabers,� said our Irish gunner. Colonel Robinson told the men they must stand by the gun and never surrender.
Col. Slack almost feared, at one moment, that some of the men would lose their presence of mind and run away from the place of danger, and resolved if they did to rally them and lead them back in the face of the enemy’s fire. But the volunteers of Indiana have gone in for victory, and not for defeat. Believing in the justness of their cause, and the favorable providence of God, they know no such words as fail. This was the feeling of the 47th Regiment during the entire contest. Every gunboat disabled by our solitary but well aimed gun augmented the enthusiasm of the men, and nerved them to stand their ground like heroes. Frequent firing heated our cannon, again and again, but our cannonier was cool and self-possessed, and often taking deliberate aim, he hurled his balls with crushing effect upon the enemy until three, if not four, of the gunboats which had engaged us were disabled, and giving up the contest they went down the river, out of our range. The enemy had fired over seven hundred times with their shot and shell, poured from five of their gunboats, and we had returned their fire over one hundred and twenty times. The single cannon which Colonel Slack had planted, amid the cheers of his men, upon Fort Thompson, kept at bay, and, finally, “whipped out� seven of the enemy’s gunboats.
The fact stands out almost unparalleled in the history of warfare. It was a splendid day’s work, courageously and brilliantly executed. The commanding officers feel proud of the unflinching bravery of their men.
As an instance of cool self-possession and daring, I may mention that, during the heat of the battle, our color bearer, Sergeant H. Lindsey, of Wabash county, fearing that the beautiful banner, which the ladies of Huntington presented to Captain Shearer’s company, might be shot down, and fall into the river, removed if from the battery and planted it in the rear of the rifle pits, where it waved proudly throughout the day.
I might add other interesting incidents, for the same spirit ran through the ranks.
General Palmer complimented the heroic courage of the men, and feels that he can confide in them in any future engagement.
While I am writing, the cannon are still thundering at Island No. 10.
Yours, very truly, Samuel Sawyer,
Chaplain 47th Reg. Ind. Vols.
This letter appeared in the Indianapolis Daily Journal on October 5, 1863 on page 2 columns 4 and 5. The spelling and punctuation are unchanged from the original publication.
Letter from the 7th Indiana by Chaplain R.W. Jewell
Bivouac 7th Indiana Volunteers,
Near Raccoon Ford,
Rapidan River, Virginia.
Editor Journal: On Thursday last, 24th inst., while all were quietly eating dinner, in camp near Culpepper, the “pack up� was sounded. Dinners were finished in double quick time, and in less than fifteen minutes all were prepared to go whithersoever the commander desired. It is both amusing and surprising to see how quick this army can prepare for marching. After the usual delay in taking up order of march, we were all put in motion toward the Rapidan, and after an easy and quiet march of some six miles over a narrow, unfrequented, but level and dry, though not dusty road, thickly hedged with pine, cedar and other undergrowth, we reached our present bivouac, about one mile from the river, and near a little mountain, from which the rebel camp and the “Johnny rebs� themselves can be seen plainly with the naked eye. It is but “a step� over, but we do not take that step, and in fact it is a rather a perilous step to take. We are not allowed to give the relative positions of the different commands. We do not pretend to know the objects of this movement, and will not therefore undertake to give them.
Execution of a Deserter.
Yesterday, 25th inst., near this place, Charles Williams, of the 4th Maryland volunteers, Company D, 1st Corps, 3d Division, at 4 P. M. was shot to death for desertion. I was present at this painful affair, and will give your readers a few facts, if you have not a more able correspondent.
The division to which the condemned man belonged was formed into a hollow square, the east side open, where was an open grave, the fresh dirt telling that it had been dug but a short time previous. At a little after 3 P. M. the convict was marched on the ground, in at the open side of the square, and all round the lines, close to the men. A brass band and muffled drums, led by the officer of the occasion, went in front, discoursing the most mournful music; indeed it seemed as if every instrument was a living, heart-broken thing. Next after the band marched the firing party, with their deadly weapons at a shoulder, and bayonets unfixed. This party was composed of twelve soldiers. Then came the rough coffin, borne by four men; then came the doomed man, walking behind and looking upon that coffin which was soon to contain his earthly remains. He was a common sized man, dressed in black pants, white shirt, no coat, and a well worn round-crowned woolen hat, his face cleanly shaven. His step was firm, and in time with the dead march, he looked neither to the right nor the left. His left arm was drawn round behind, and his right arm down by his right side, the left wrist being handcuffed to the right arm immediately below the elbow, so that his breast was laid bare for the leaden messengers of death to do their awful work without hinderance. By his right side walked a Chaplain, but during the awful march no words passed between them.-Behind him with fixed bayonets marched a heavy guard. During the time occupied in marching around the lines, the whole multitude seemed to hold their breath and gaze with pity, and many with flowing eyes, at that healthful man, in the prime of life, marching to his own funeral dirge, and gazing upon the weapons that were in a few moments to pierce his heart and brain; and that coffin and grave so soon to receive his dishonored remains. Oh, God! what awful reflections were ours at that dread time; but how horribly awful must have been those of that doomed man! On went the solemn procession—his body the living hearse for his dead honor—the band making the very air to wail and weep. At last they file off to the open grave; here, at its edge, they halt; the coffin is let down by its side; the band marches from the scene; the guards and firing party take up their proper distances; the doomed man is left alone with the Chaplain; they both seat themselves, facing each other, astride the coffin, and, in this position, the man of God lifts his eyes and voice to heaven in earnest, eloquent supplication for that soul which was so soon to pass into the presence of its maker, to give an account of the deeds done in the body. What an awful position was this! Not many have sat upon the coffin with one who was so soon to fill it, and invoke the mercy of God upon that unfortunate being. Prayer over, the preacher made some remarks; then for some moments they stand in common conversation. There is not the least indication of fear; nor the slightest trembling or restlessness of position; not the blanching of eye or palor of countenance could be detected, but a firm attention, with a soldierly attitude, he stood and listened to the last words of his chaplain. Now the bugle admonishes us that the fateful moment is near; he hates to part with the preacher; presently the officer advances and the chaplain retires; the poor fellow takes a calm and deliberate survey of the heavens and earth and at the long lines of gleaming bayonets about him, and at his executors, who stand ready to carry out the sentence of death; then with a sigh, submits his eyes to be blindfolded, and all earthly objects are shut out forever. The office retires, and then he stands beside his coffin, as firm as a marble statute. A note from the bugle, and every piece is at an aim; another note they belch forth fiery death into his bosom; he falls back over his coffin, and his head, neck and heart are pierced through; he moves not a muscle, he quivers not; the sentence is complete; he is dead.
As soon as the fact was officially announced by the surgeons of the occasion, the corpse of the executed man was placed on the ground, alongside of his coffin, and all the division were marched in review, so that every man might see the fearful fate which is before the man who deserts his cause, colors and comrades in this our hour of peril.
We had poor opportunities of gaining information, but learn this man had deserted some four or five times; hiring as a substitute, getting the money, and then deserting and hiring again. When arrested he was playing substitute in the 90th [? not clear in original] Pennsylvania, and while on drill was apprehended by his old captain.
We will now let him alone; he fills an ignominious grave. If he has relatives, a loving wife, with a high sense of honor, we pray God to comfort them. It is a matter of great regret that one who could meet death so firmly, should prove himself so unworthy to live, and live to so little purpose, and die so ignobly.
Rosecrans’ Defeat.
There is great sorrow in this army caused by the defeat, or falling back, of this gallant General’s command. All had hoped he would be able to hold his ground against the rebels, but it seems he has not. This army appreciates Rosecrans, and feels the importance of his complete success, and it is to be hoped that he may be able yet to turn the table on his enemy. It has been said here, ever since it was found that a portion of Lee’s army had gone to fight Rosecrans, that the Western boys would find different material to deal with to what Bragg’s forces are; yet it seems that Thomas’s invincibles could make Longstreet’s veterans run before them as chaff before the wind.
Burnside.
Much concern is also felt for Burnside, but all have confidence in his honor and generalship.
What Will This Army Do?
God knows, but it is quite doubtful whether the President, Meade, or any of the subordinates do. We may cross, and we may not. We may stay here, fall back, or do something else, but time and circumstances can alone determine. One thing is true, and that is this: Whatever this army is ordered to do, if it be in the range of possibility, they will do it. No braver and more willing men live.- There is a foolish prejudice in the minds of some men who are always talking about going ahead. If these croakers desire to know why this army does not go ahead, or if they are very anxious that we should “go ahead,� let them ask Uncle Sam for a “suit of blue,� a gun, &c., and come down and go with us, and we will do them good;� show them the rebel rifle pits, artillery and muskets on the frowning heights of the Rapidan, and then tell them to “go wence.� Talk is cheap, but it takes caution and courage to go ahead in the face of such opposition as is met with in this Department. This army has been talked into one or two fearful and disastrous battles, and it is time the Commanding General be allowed to do his own planning, and that those who cannot right face a squad of four men, and who are at home amid featherbed luxuries, either hold their piece, or speak words of encouragement, instead of disparagement. Thus let it be in the future.
The Weather
Is clear and dry, but quite cool, and rather windy; rather healthy than otherwise.
Health.
In this regiment, and the whole corps the health is good. I have not seen a funeral in the time I have been here, (except that of the deserter above spoken of, ) which is nearly a month.
In the following letter Henry Marsh, hospital steward of the 19th Indiana, describes the treatment of the wounded Indiana soldiers after the battle of Gettysburg. The 19th was part of the famed Iron Brigade along with the 2nd, 6th, and 7th Wisconsin and the 24th Michigan.
On September 4, 1861 Henry Marsh enlisted as a private in Company E 19th Indiana Infantry in Indianapolis, Indiana. His mustering in date was November 25, 1861. Marsh remained a private until he was transferred and promoted to the rank of hospital steward on May 11, 1863. Remaining at this rank until the end of the war Marsh stayed with the 19th Indiana until it was combined with the 20th Indiana in 1864. He mustered out with the 20th on July 12, 1865. Marsh died on March 5, 1933 in Muncie, Indiana.
This letter appeared in the Indianapolis Daily Journal on August 1, 1863 on page 3 column 2. The spelling and punctuation are unchanged from the original publication.
Our Wounded At Gettysburg
1st Div., 1st Army Corps Hospital,
White Church, near Gettysburg, Pa.
Ed. Journal-There being no higher officer left with our wounded at this place than myself, I desire, in behalf of our brave soldiers, to return their thanks to our friends in this State and our agent in Washington, for the timely and abundant supplies furnished us after the battle of Gettysburg.
Most of the slightly wounded of our division were collected at White Church, three miles from Gettysburg, on the Baltimore pike, and at a neighboring house and barn, and were suffering very much for sanitary supplies and food, as our supply and hospital wagons were twenty-five miles off.
Many of the men had lost their knapsacks and haversacks, and many of them had nearly all their clothing torn off, being covered with blood.
When our regimental hospital wagons came up, I took out the hospital tents, put them up together, and laid a floor in them, and made beds of hay and straw.
A few shirts and drawers, which were in the wagon, were given out, still many of the men had shirts on which were quite filthy, as they had not had a chance to change for many days.
The next day after our tents were up Mr. Monfort, our State Agent, came up with his assistants, with shirts, drawers, lint, badages [sic] and wine, (Hoosier wine,) which was given out to the men. The soldiers were rejoiced to receive these supplies. “Bully for Indiana!� was the cheerful expression of the men upon receiving these gifts. These were the first donations received from any quarter, either from Agent or Society. The Agent, after getting a list of the killed and wounded, visited the other hospitals. This work of distributing stores being over, he returned in a few days and poured the supplies on us, bringing almost everything that could be wished for or needed-socks, shoes, drawers, handkerchiefs, towels, jellies, wines, vegetables, fruit, bread, butter, etc.-so that our hospital was abundantly supplied, and this was continued for some six days. I understand other regiments fared the same.
The men in camp would say, “he knows what is needed, he has been in the army.� The soldiers from other States would say wishfully, “why don’t our State treat its soldiers in that way?�
There was but one other state (Wisconsin) whose agent came on with supplies. The agents of several states came on, but none passed through the hospital to obtain lists of the killed and wounded. Some who profess friendship for soldiers and an interest in their welfare say, “Well, I would give something for relief, but those stores get into the hands of officers, and are eaten up or used by them.� Could such persons have witnessed the change from blood-clotted, filthy garments to clean and white, from “hard-tack� to fresh light bread, from salt pork to fresh mutton, could they have heard the expression of delight, and seen the countenances of the exhausted soldiers, no other argument would be necessary to bind them to the interest of our State Sanitary Commission. These supplies were all distributed by myself. I believe hundreds of lives were saved by the different relief associations.
All of the wounded from Indiana who were able to be moved have been taken to Gettysburg. Those left behind are well cared for.
After the railroad was opened the Sanitary and Christian Commissions brought in large supplies of stores. Our Indianians are doing well.
The cases of amputation are doing remarkably well. Lieut-Colonel Dudley has had his leg amputated a second time and is now improving.
The Iron Brigade is still in the front, ready to give the rebs. their accustomed warm reception.
I will close, hoping that I have not occupied too much room in your paper.
Yours, truly,
Henry C. Marsh,
Hospital Steward 19th Ind
In the following letter Masten Dashiel of the 3rd Indiana Cavalry describes his experiences in Camp Parole in Annapolis, Maryland. Dashiel was 45 when he enlisted in Captain Graham’s Company, Indiana Mounted Volunteers on September 5, 1861. A resident of Johnson County Indiana, he furnished his own horse for the unit. This unit later became Company G 3rd Indiana Cavalry. On December 31, 1862 he was captured at Stone’s River. His journey as a prisoner and parolee took him to Richmond, Virginia, Camp Parole in Annapolis Maryland, Camp Chase in Columbus, Ohio and ending at Camp Carrington in Indianapolis, Indiana. Dashiel returned to his unit in June 1863. He served with the 3rd Indiana Cavalry until mustering out on September 27, 1864. After his service with the 3rd Indiana Cavalry, Dashiel enlisted in Company E 16th Indiana Infantry on December 21, 1864 in Indianapolis, Indiana. He mustered in with the regiment the next day and served with that unit until mustering out on June 25, 1865 at New Orleans. He died on May 17, 1903 in Indianapolis, Indiana and is buried in Crown Hill Cemetery there.
This letter appeared in the Indianapolis Daily Journal on February 14, 1863. The spelling and punctuation are unchanged from the original publication.
Military Items.
--The following letter is from Mr. Dashiel, of this city, formerly a carrier of the Journal. He was taken prisoner at Murfreesboro and paroled, and is now in the camp of paroled men at Annapolis, Md.:
Parole Camp, Annapolis, MD.,
February 8, 1863.
Editor Journal: After wandering over the bounds of this camp to the Bay Shore and back again this beautiful Sabbath day, to retire to my tent with my fellow comrades, I feel a degree of languor that almost subsides into a stupidity and carelessness which is not common but wrong for a soldier. How can we be composed , how can we divest ourselves of the great melancholy that pervades us.—The last day of the year 1862 hundreds of us were compelled to surrender as prisoners of war before Murfreesboro, Tenn. As fast as possible we were paroled, placed in cars upon the railroad for Chattanooga and informed by the Confederate officers having us in charge that our final destination was Vicksburg, Miss. The railroad communication was so damaged that our transportation was not only very expensive, but quite circuitous. Some of the points we made were Atlanta, Georgia, through North Carolina, Montgomery Alabama, to the State of Florida, to a city wearing the name of Pollard. Here an officer in charge received a dispatch from the authorities to return to Richmond, Va., which was done, and in an almost starving and naked condition we were introduced to our lodgings in Richmond, to-wit: Castle Thunder, on the 18th of January. After two weeks of a stay and short rations of bread and soup we were stripped of the remnant of our little extras, placed on cars, taken to City Point on board the steamers New York and Express and, by way of Fortress Monroe, we arrived at this old city.
The weather has been very unfavorable for remaining without shelter. But so many of us have been thrown here at one time that we have been compelled to remain out of doors, exposed to snow storms, pelting rains, and piercing winds, without clothes to keep us warm; but it was a military necessity and was complied with. But fortune and the government have at last favored us. It is not only amusing but interesting to see the boys this warm, pleasant day passing about completely enveloped in new suits who, three days since, were passing around or shivering about the poor camp fires in tatters and rags dodging snow and rain.
Various are the private letters and petitions that have been directed to Governor Morton for his aid, assistance and influence for our removal to Camp Morton. We are all soldiers in the Army of the Cumberland. We have long undergone the privations incident to the army almost without a murmur. Unfortunately for a while we are compelled to lay down our arms, and why not let us be in our own State during the interval. We are ready and willing at any time for an exchange that will return us again to our regiments, but as with the voice of one man we cry for home (several hundred of us); if we fail in this, as we all now fully contemplate we will not, I fear it may result in a dissatisfaction among and with us. None doubt but that we will all soon seen Indianapolis; all are loud in the praise of our noble Governor, who has already won our favor by his kindness manifested towards Indiana soldiers, and for his patriotism in the cause in which we are engaged and have left our homes and risked our lives to sustain.
There are thousands of troops here from every loyal or half loyal State in the Union; some very hard boys and some very good.—There is plenty of everything to sell to satisfy the cravings of appetite and clothing to decorate the bodies of us soldiers, and very cheap; but very unfortunately the boys are out of money, and we are enjoying ourselves entirely at Uncle Sam’s expense. It is quite cheap living. We have some sickness among us, and rumors of smallpox among us brought from Richmond.
Yours truly, Masten Dashiel
In the following letter Masten Dashiel of the 3rd Indiana Cavalry describes his experieces as one of the escorts of the body of General Zollicoffer back to the Confederate lines after the battle at Mill Springs. Dashiel enlisted in Captain Graham’s Company, Indiana Mounted Volunteers on September 5, 1861 which later became Company G 3rd Indiana Cavalry. On December 31, 1862 he was captured at Stone’s River. He was later paroled and returned to his unit in June 1863. After mustering out with the 3rd Cavalry on September 27, 1864, Dashiel enlisted in Company E 16th Indiana Infantry on December 21, 1864 in Indianapolis and mustered in the next day. His service lasted unitil until mustering out with that unit on June 25, 1865 at New Orleans. According to the book Indiana Civil Veterans Dashiel was a member of GAR Post No. 209 George H. Chapman located in Indianapolis, Indiana. He died on May 17, 1903 in Indianapolis, Indiana and is buried in Crown Hill Cemetery there.
This letter appeared in the Indianapolis Daily Journal on February 6, 1862 on page 2 column 3. The spelling and punctuation are unchanged from the original publication.
Letter from Kentucky. Camp Wood, Munfordsville, Ky.,
February 2d, 1862.
Mr. Editor: For some time I have felt an inclination to address you and hear from my good old home. There is nothing immediately interesting in our camp, only the rise and fall of the mud, which is a very interesting item with us boys and poor horses. But situated as you are, with an abundance of gravel upon which to promenade, I forbear to delineate upon the difficulties of the one or conveniences of the other. Notwithstanding our privations, labors, unfavorable weather and hard living, we enjoy tolerable good health, but few sick and an occasional death from our ranks. Our patriotic emotions, like all other soldiers, is to get out of this scrape as quick as possible, by the command of a “forward march� movement into the “land of Dixie.�
The late battle of Mill Springs gave some Graham’s squadron an opportunity to look slightly into “Dixie,� and to there behold some of its deluded soldiers, who profess to be fighting for their rights. The bodies of Gen. Zollicoffer and Peyton reached this point, per Railroad, on the 30th, encased in splendid coffins, labeled and directed to the care of Gen. McCook, for the same to forward under an escort of flag of truce to some place. Early on the morning of the 31st two ambulances, with four horses attached to each, moved from headquarters with the mortal remains of Zollicoffer and Peyton. The procession was headed by Gens. Johnson and Negley, of this division of the army, with a host of Colonels and Orderlies of the two staffs, and one of Frank Leslie’s artists. Then followed the ambulances, and in the rear twenty-five of Graham’s Cavalry, your humble servant one of the number. We crossed Green River in safety on the pontoon bridge, took the Glasgow road as far as Horse Cave, a small village, situated on the Railroad, which has lost most of its houses by the lighted torch of the infuriated “secesh,� who have to let go and give back as our army increases or advances. This place is noted for the great cave here, from which it derives its name. We had no opportunity to examine the cave only as we passed by near its mouth—we could see far into it. From this point we turned to our left, and took the Louisville and Nashville pike—a good road—but every place where timber has stood upon its borders it has been felled across it to obstruct our march.
The water for all kinds of use in this country, away from the river, stands in sink holes or ponds. Doubtless some of these are supplied by springs. They are plenty, varying from one to two hundred yards across, and the water in some of them is as good as that in artificial cisterns. Many of these watering places contain from five to eight dead cattle or hogs, that have been driven into the water and shot down, and the owners ordered not to remove them. Every cow-pit and culvert on the railroad, as far as observation could be made, had been burned, and every place where wood had been corded near the road it has been thrown upon the track and burned, thereby destroying the cross-ties and railing. Everything possible for secesh ingenuity to invent, to obstruct or delay our forward movement, has been called into requisition. But still we go on. We were called to a halt at the Woodland House. Wilson Righter, a good Union man, proprietor. Here the whole escort dismounted, and two were sent forward with the white flag to look for rebel camps, officers, orders, &c. During the interval our horses were taken to the barn and bountifully supplied with hay and corn, while our host, with all his household laid hold, and by their united efforts, in an almost incredibly short space of time, the long table was prepared in the spacious hall, loaded with more of the good things and luxuries of this life than is the common lot and fare of the soldier. Officers and privates alike partook of the welcome repast, with grateful hearts and wishes for the long life and prosperity of the inmates of Woodland House. The gentle, harmonious sounds of the piano greeted our ears as we passed from the dining room to the front of the hotel. This house was formerly the Mammoth Cave House, and is distant from the cave about five miles. The proprietor has been robbed of his grain, hay, horses, hogs and cattle—all except one horse—by the rebels, but still he has the heart and will to assist the Union cause and maintain his country. The house is of large dimensions, and the grounds judiciously laid off, all of which were promptly sketched by our accompanying artist.
At 3 o’clock the white flag appeared in sight from the south, in its front General Hindman, Col Hawthorn, with a host of Majors and Orderlies, followed close in their rear by fifty Texas Rangers, all mounted. Their officers dismounted and advanced, as did ours, of the same rank, and moved together to the hotel for consultation, &c. But now came the time for us boys to mix in, and with our Hoosier impudence, carbines swung to our backs, swords and revolvers at our sides, we penetrated the ranks of the Rangers. Oh! How savage they looked. They eyed us close. We paid the same compliment to them. Their uniforms were just what their individual fancy dictated to them—some of them had on goat skin pants, others with pants of deer and cow skin, and one fellow’s whole suit was of bear skin. Their arms were revolvers, shot guns, and knives. Conversation at last began, with some shaking of hands. They informed us they were native Texans, whilst we were not slow in letting them know that we were live Hoosiers. We changed some tobacco: they also partook of some of theirs. An exchange of newspapers was also made. I got a Nashville Courier of January 18, which contained the proceedings and the resolutions of the late Democratic convention held at Indianapolis, with the speech of John G. Davis upon that occasion. That Convention, with its resolutions and accompanying speeches, is all right down in Dixie, but does not suit a soldier in the Federal army. Consequently I left it with the one that presented it to me.
The charges that had been committed to our hands were delivered to the Confederate officers, and we parted with the rangers by inviting them to our quarters at any time most convenient to them. The same compliment was tendered to us. But I have extended this too long. I am safe in camp; ‘tis getting cold. Please send me a daily. Yours truly,
Maten Dashiel
P.S. In my next I hope to hail from “away down in Tennessee.�