Terry's Texas Rangers
The service was very arduous; besides the picketing alluded to above, foraging became very laborious. The country along the streams is quite fertile and produced abundantly of food for man and beast, but cavalry troops consume rapidly, and the valleys were soon exhausted. So we had to go away out into the mountains for supplies. Often wagons could not go the roads and we had to bring supplies on our horses over mountain trails for ten or fifteen miles. These expeditions were not without danger, for these rude mountaineers were good shots, and lying in the woods, did not see their bread and meat taken with kind feelings. They sometimes fired on these foraging parties, but at long range from mountain crag or other secure position, and I believe injured no one.
As I am not relating these things in chronological order, this will be a good place to set down the facts concerning the night alarm on the banks of Pigeon river. We were in camp for several days on the banks of this stream which, though small to be called a river, was yet rather deep at that place; though it could be forded, as will be seen.
Across from our encampment, some two or three hundred yards from the banks, was a stately mansion, the home of a wealthy and refined family. I think the people’s name was Smith, but I am not sure. The name will do anyhow. The head of the family, a general or colonel, was away from home, with the army no doubt. The family at the house consisted of the mother and three or four daughters, all charming ladies. They had secured a house guard to protect them from insult. Joe Rogers, being a little indisposed, was duly installed as guard. This meant good times for Joe; a bed to sleep in, three meals a day with plate, knife and fork, a stable for his black horse Nig, of which, by the way, he was very fond.
It was not long before the society men of the regiment acquired the habit of slipping out after evening roll call to enjoy a game of cards at General Smith’s. One night several of them, a lieutenant, a clerk of the quartermaster’s department, and one or two others, crossed the river in a small skiff and were soon pleasantly engaged in the fascinating game of euchre with the young ladies. Suddenly there was a cry of “Halt! Halt!” and pistol shots rang out on the night air. Out went the lights, and the visitors rushed for doors and windows, knocking over chairs, tables, and even the young women. They rushed to the river, plunged in and across, and made for their companies. The first alarm was plainly heard in the camp. Sharp orders to “saddle up” were given and repeated from company to company, and the brigade was soon in line. Colonel Harrison sent Tom Gill and a small party to ascertain the cause of the row. Tom passed General Smith’s, where all was dark, and went on to the picket stand. Pickets reported all quiet; no enemy had passed their post. Tom returned to the house, where he met Joe Rogers. It appeared that Joe had not run with the others at the first alarm. He had gone out the back way to look after Nig and his equipment. While getting these he heard voices, accompanied with laughter, and the voices seemed somewhat familiar. Peeping around the house he soon ascertained that the alarm had been caused by three or four Rangers. He reported the cause of the disturbance to Gill and his scouting party, and Gill reported it to Colonel Harrison.
“The old man” was furious at first, for a false alarm in war is a serious matter and a grave offense. However, after some reflection, he concluded to drop the matter, as he thought the incident would have a wholesome effect on the guilty parties. The men did not so easily let it drop. Frequently at night for some months afterwards someone would call out:
“Who waded Pigeon?”
From some other part of the camp the answer would come:
“Murray! Brownson!”
The story got into the comic papers and caused some amusement and some mortification to the victims of the joke. John Haynie, one of the best soldiers in the regiment, was the leader of the alarmist jokers. If I ever learned the names of the others I have forgotten them.
We had now been in the service for considerably over two years, and there had been no general system of furloughs. Our regiment might have fifteen if they would re-enlist, but as we had already enlisted for the war we could hardly perform this condition. However, it was demanded that we make declaration of our intention to continue in the service. Some of us considered this a reflection on our honor, and decided to do without the coveted furloughs. Then some of the boys got together, made a speech or two, passed a preamble and resolutions, declaring we would never – no never – quit as long as an armed foe trod our sacred soil. This was considered satisfactory at headquarters, and the furloughs were ordered. Lots were drawn for the three assigned to Company D. These fell to D. S. Combs, I. V. Jones and J. F. McGuire, who left at once to visit their homes.
At that time the enemy was at the mouth of the Rio Grande. They evidently intended to invade the country far enough to break up a most profitable trade between the States west of the Mississippi and the outside world by way of Mexico. This traffic was carried on by means of wagons, hundreds of which went in a constant stream to the Rio Grande, loaded with cotton, and brought back supplies of all kinds. The people feared the enemy would penetrate the interior, as the State had been stripped of its defenders. Every persuasion was used to prevail on these men to remain on this side, and they finally agreed to stay. The lieutenant general commanding the department readily agreed to the arrangement, and thus Company D lost three good soldiers. We could not blame them, for, given the opportunity, every one of us perhaps would have done the same thing.
It was during this winter that one of the saddest events of all our career happened; the hanging of E. S. Dodd by the enemy. He was a member of Company D. He was of a good family and well educated. For many years he kept a diary, setting down at night the happenings of the day. He was taken prisoner with this diary in his pocket. On that evidence alone he was condemned and executed as a spy.
Spring was now approaching. Those masters of the art of war – Grant and Sherman – were preparing to strike the final blows at the tottering Confederacy. Longstreet went to Virginia. Our cavalry went to Georgia to our old commander, General Joseph Wheeler. Our way was up the French Broad river, through western North Carolina and South Carolina, marching leisurely where there were abundant supplies. We reached Georgia as Sherman was preparing to move. On the 9th day of May, just north of Dalton, we were ordered to charge a force of the enemy, which proved to be our old acquaintance, La Grange’s brigade of Indiana cavalry. We went at them in our usual style, at top speed, every fellow yelling as loud as he could. They broke and retreated precipitately. We took more than sixty prisoners, including the brigade commander, Colonel La Grange. His horse was wounded and fell, pinning his rider to the earth just at a large farm gate. John Haynie, quick as a flash, was at his side, securing the prisoner, evidently an officer. Addressing his captor, the prisoner said:
“You have a prize indeed. I am Colonel La Grange. I did not know that you boys had got down here from East Tennessee. I knew you as soon as I saw you coming.”
With the help of some of the prisoners he was released from his fallen horse, mounted on another, and escorted by his captor to Colonel Harrison. This incident came under my own observation. For the interview which followed his presentation to Harrison I am indebted to that officer himself, who related it to me several years after the war. La Grange said:
“I was in command of the brigade, and was anxious for the commission of brigadier general. Had some influential friends who were helping me. My division commander told me to go out, run in the rebel pickets, skirmish a little and send in a report, which he would forward with strong recommendations for my promotion. I came out, ran into the Texas Rangers, and am a prisoner.”
“Only the fortune of war, my young friend,” said Harrison. “Only the fortune of war.”
Our loss was quite heavy. Among the killed were Charles T. Pelham of Company D, an educated young man, of good family and fine promise, a civil engineer by profession; D. F. Lily, a young lawyer, who fell almost in sight of his mother’s home, and W. H. Bigelow, a native of Canada; both of these last were of Company G, and both educated gentlemen.
CHAPTER XII
SHERMAN’S WAGON TRAIN AND THE AFFAIRS WITH M’COOK AND STONEMANThe enemy, over one hundred thousand strong, under one of the ablest commanders in the Federal army, advanced on all the roads, overlapping the Confederates, who took position after position, to be turned by the superior numbers of their adversaries.
At Resaca there was quite a spirited engagement with a part of the advance. At Cassville we took position and offered battle, but retired before the flanking movement of the enemy. Near this place Wheeler turned their left and captured a train of wagons within a few miles of Sherman’s army. The Rangers were not in this capture, but when the enemy sent a force of cavalry to retake his train, we met it in the most unique engagement of the war. Sherman’s great army with its hundreds of cannon, thousands of wagons and other vehicles had passed along, pulverizing the roads and fields into fine dust, which covered everything, in many places several inches deep. A single horseman riding along raised a cloud, a company or regiment, such a dense fog as to obscure everything. We were in line on one side of a slight rise in the land. The cavalry of the enemy above mentioned were approaching on the other side of the hill. We were ordered forward, and at the top of this hill we met each other, enveloped in clouds of dust. We raised the usual yell, although in doing so we took in large quantities of Georgia real estate. We emptied our pistols into the dust, and the enemy broke. We did not pursue them very far; for we knew we were near their main army, and feared we might run into a brigade or two of infantry, as we could not see anything twenty feet away. Previous encounters had given us a contempt for their cavalry and we did not hesitate to charge a whole brigade if need be; but we had a wholesome respect for large bodies of infantry. We took a few prisoners, but did not know, owing to the dust, what other casualties were inflicted on them. We had seven wounded, including George Burke of Company D, who was shot in the shoulder.
Wheeler was determined to save his train, so he tried to march all night, but a violent electrical storm came up, rain fell in torrents, and our progress was very slow, for the drivers of the teams could not see the road, except by the glare of the lightning. After this had gone on for several hours, making scarcely so many miles, the command camped in column – I believe without orders.
Wheeler dearly loved their wagon trains. I believe it is safe to say that from the first to the last he captured as many wagons as he commanded men. Thousands were burned, but other thousands were secured for the use of our army. The Northern contractors probably enjoyed this as much as Wheeler; no doubt they would have been glad to replace all the wagons, for a reasonable consideration.
The retreat of the army continued to the very gates of Atlanta. Here the Rangers made another charge, in which Jesse Billingsly of Company D was killed.
During the last week of July the enemy undertook to play our game, and simultaneously made two raids on our communications. One column under General McCook, with 3500 cavalry, turned our left. They crossed the Chattahoochie near Campbelltown, passed through Fayetteville, where they burned between fifty and one hundred wagons, and struck the Macon railroad near Jonesboro, twenty or twenty-five miles below Atlanta. As soon as intelligence of this movement reached Wheeler he started for the raiders. We rode all night, coming up with them about daylight. They made very feeble resistance and we ran over them. It was now a chase of twenty miles to the Chattahoochie again. As this stream was not fordable, they made a stand to gain time for crossing the river, which they were attempting by means of boats. Our column was strung out for several miles, Harrison’s brigade in front. We were dismounted and pushed into the thick woods. It was afternoon of the first day of August, and about as hot as such days ever get. The enemy made some resistance, but we drove them steadily some four or five hundred yards, when we heard firing in our rear where we had left our horses. So we had to face about and fight our way back. We got mixed up with Ross’ brigade, which had been dismounted as soon as it came up. After some three hours of this work, the enemy surrendered; that is, all who had not crossed the river.
Wheeler reported 950 prisoners, 1200 horses and two pieces of artillery as the fruits of this engagement. There were many of their killed and wounded lying in the bushes. I have no information as to the number. Our regiment lost two killed and ten wounded, including one from Company D. This was V. Catron, who was shot in the leg.
The other column of the enemy, led by General Stoneman, turned our right flank and struck our communications lower down, near Macon. His force was reported to be 3000. General Iverson of the Confederate cavalry attacked them and took 600 prisoners, including Stoneman himself, with two pieces of artillery. The remainder of their force in small detachments made their way back as best they could. Iverson did not have force enough to pursue them.
General Shoupe of General Hood’s staff recorded in his diary, that the “First of August deserved to be marked with a white stone.” These operations cost the enemy nearly half of the two raiding parties, and fully justified General Hood in saying that our cavalry were equal to twice their number of the enemy.
CHAPTER XIII
WHEELER’S SECOND RAID INTO TENNESSEEWheeler was now ordered to operate on the long line of the enemy’s communications. Finding the posts and bridges south of Chattanooga too strongly fortified to offer any promise of successful attack, Wheeler determined to go over into middle Tennessee again. He went up along the Holston above Knoxville, and then had to cross under a severe fire of the enemy’s pickets. For this undertaking there was a call for volunteers. It looked as if the whole of the Rangers were volunteering, and Wheeler had to stop them. The fording was deep, but the enemy were easily driven from their position. A small force, not of the Rangers, was sent down toward Knoxville. They met the enemy and were roughly handled; about half of them were taken prisoners, and the exultant enemy came on at a furious rate. Our regiment was formed in an open field. Colonel Harrison took position in front. We went forward in a walk at first, and then in a trot. The men were impatient. Officers kept saying:
“Steady, men! Keep back there!”
Then we heard the popping of pistols, and all eyes were turned on Harrison. The routed Confederates came into view. Next the enemy in close pursuit. The men could now hardly be restrained. Finally Harrison shouted:
“Well, go then! – you, go!”
The tap of the drum on the race track never sent jockeys and racers to the front more impetuously than the Rangers went at the sound of these words. The enemy’s force was small, and they faced about at once. Their horses were nearly exhausted, and we soon overtook them, capturing nearly the whole party, which did not exceed two companies.
Our march was now across the Cumberland mountains, by McMinnville, the familiar route we had traveled two years before under Forrest, and one year before under Wheeler. Just before reaching Murfreesboro we turned to the left and began to destroy the railroad leading to Chattanooga, over which Sherman’s supplies had to be carried. We piled fence rails on the track and set them on fire. The heat caused the rails to expand and bend into all shapes, rendering them useless until straightened out; of course the ties were burned also. In this way we destroyed some fifty miles of the road; but the enemy had unlimited resources, and kept trains loaded with railroad material at Nashville and Louisville; these were rushed to the scene of our operations. With large forces working day and night they soon got the tracks in order.
We now moved forward to the Mussel Shoals, where we were to cross the Tennessee river. In a little skirmish on the north side W. H. Caldwell of Company D was wounded in the hip. He was disabled for the remainder of the war by this hurt; never entirely recovered, in fact, walking with a limp for the rest of his life.
After crossing the river the men of the Third Arkansas, who had shown courage and devotion on many fields, became greatly demoralized. Finding themselves nearer home than they had been for years, many of them deserted. One morning it was reported that twelve of these men had gone. A detail of twenty Rangers under Lieutenant Joiner, the whole under Captain Bass of the Third Arkansas, was sent after the deserters. I was one of this detail. Riding forty or fifty miles a day, we overtook four of them about twenty miles from the great Mississippi and made them prisoners. On the return my horse was badly injured by falling through a broken plank in an old bridge, and I was left afoot. Joiner gave me orders to remain until my horse recovered, or until I could procure another, and then join some other command until I could get company over Sand mountain, as that region was infested with bushwhackers and murderers. It was some weeks before I could get a mount, for horses were very scarce, but this is not a narrative of my operations.
CHAPTER XIV
“THE ROME RACES.”I am indebted to Comrade A. B. Briscoe for a description of this incident.
“General Harrison, our old colonel, was in command of the forces composed of ours and Ashby’s brigade of mounted infantry and a battery of four guns. For some reason, but contrary to all former usages, our regiment was dismounted and placed near the battery, and Ashby’s infantry kept mounted to protect the flanks and led horses. The fight had barely commenced when it was realized from the immense bodies of infantry in our front that it was a bad one. The battery was ordered to the rear, but just as they were limbered the Yankee cavalry poured in on our flanks and completely enveloped us. I did not give an order to run nor did I hear an order of any kind, but I soon found myself dodging through and among the Yankee cavalry, who were shouting to us to surrender. We reached our horses, which were not over 150 yards in the rear, mounted, and after a very hasty formation charged out through the enemy, and although we made repeated rallies they ran us back about five miles. Why the Yankees did not capture more of our men is a mystery, as outside of the battery we lost very few prisoners. To give an appropriate name to this battle we called it “Rome Races,” for such it was.”
In this race the colors furled around the staff and in the oilcloth were lost – not captured – as the subjoined letter shows:
“Dallas, Texas, May 18, 1898“Terry’s Texas Rangers Association, Austin, Texas.
“Gentlemen: I have been in Texas since 1890, and have frequently endeavored to find some members of Terry’s Texas Rangers, and finally, by accident, met with your comrade, H. W. Graber, and reported to him the finding of your flag the day after our engagement with your forces near Rome, Georgia. It happened in this way: I was directed by the general commanding to take two companies and move through the woods on the right of our line to a certain point where a country road intersected the main river road then occupied by our brigade. Just before coming into the main road I picked up a package or roll of something, threw it over my saddle, and on my return to the main command examined the same and found it to be the Terry’s Rangers’ flag in its case. It seemed to have slipped off the staff and been lost in that way. At the suggestion of your comrade – Graber – I have made a request on the authorities of the State of Indiana, who have had charge of it ever since, soon after its capture, and herewith enclose you a letter from Chas. E. Wilson, military secretary at Indianapolis, which seems to indicate there is no authority with the executive department of the State to return the flag, as it is in absolute control of the State Legislature, which is a matter of exceeding regret to me, as I should like to have returned the flag to you in time for your next reunion at Austin. I am furthermore able to assure you that this flag was never displayed in the streets of Nashville, as has been reported, but remained in possession of our regiment until soon after it was found. We returned direct to Louisville, from which point it was sent by express direct to the State of Indiana.
“In view of the existing unsettled condition of the country, I would suggest we let the matter rest until our country is again pacified and returned to its normal condition, when I will take pleasure in making a further effort to return this flag, which was not captured, but found, and I consider, therefore, property should be returned to its owner.
“With kind regards and best wishes, hoping to have the pleasure of a personal meeting with your association, I am, with great respect,
“Yours very truly,“J. J. Wiler,“Maj. Com. 17th Indiana Volunteer Infantry.”This flag was returned to the survivors at Dallas in October, 1898. Its loss was very mortifying to the Rangers, as it had been presented shortly before by the ladies of middle Tennessee.
In justice to the knightly “Count” Jones, I must say that no one could have taken the colors from him without taking his life.
In this action fell Wm. Nicholson of Company D and Lieutenant Batchelor of Company C, and perhaps others, but I have no record of them.
CHAPTER XV
THE LAST CAMPAIGNWheeler’s cavalry was now almost the only obstacle to Sherman’s great march to the sea. They harassed his columns front, flanks and rear, picking up many prisoners; but three or four thousand cavalry could make little resistance to the onward sweep of 60,000 veterans under one of the greatest captains of modern times. Conflicts were of almost daily occurrence. The Rangers were engaged at Buckhead Church and Waynesboro, Georgia. Again at Aiken, South Carolina. At Averysboro and Fayetteville, North Carolina, where, after a night’s march, they surprised Kilpatrick’s cavalry camp, but failed to bag that redoubtable leader. In all of these conflicts the losses were heavy. Old Company D lost in killed, John Gage, P. R. Kennedy, Dave Nunn, Sam Screws and Jim Wynne. Their list of wounded, too, was large. P. R. Kyle and Geo. T. McGehee, good ones both, were badly hurt at Aiken; McArthur, Brannum and P. J. Watkins also. The other companies sustained heavy losses. Lieutenant Heiskell of Company K was killed. I wish I could name them all.
In all of these actions, the remnant of nearly 1200 enlistments charged with that dauntless courage which had characterized them at Woodsonville, at Bardstown, at Dalton and many other brilliant fields of arms. Their old colonel, now a brigadier general, Thomas Harrison; their colonel, the knightly Cook, and the staid and ever reliable Major Jarmon, were all stretched on beds, racked with the pains of severe wounds. The command now devolved on Captain Matthews, who but a little over a year before had been elected lieutenant, promoted to the rank of captain by the bullets of the enemy which brought down his superiors, was now, at Bentonville, to lead the old regiment in the last charge, which will always rank as one of the most brilliant feats of arms in the history of wars. As I was not present I will let Lieutenant Briscoe tell of it, for he tells it well.
THE LAST CHARGE“We did but little fighting the first day, as the enemy changed positions very rapidly. But the second we were engaged in some severe skirmishes all the forenoon, in one of which Major Jarmon, our only remaining field officer, was severely wounded, when we were withdrawn a few hundred yards to rest and give place for the infantry.
“We had been in this position resting and eating our rations probably over an hour, when we heard the boom of artillery directly in our rear. Every man pricked up his ears, for we knew that it meant something serious. Captain Doc Matthews of Company K (my company) was in command of the regiment, which numbered about 100 men. We were standing talking of the probable cause of the artillery fire in our rear when General Wheeler galloped up and asked for the commander of the Rangers. He seemed a little excited. His order was, ‘Captain, mount your men, go as fast as you can and charge whatever you find at the bridge.’ These were almost his exact words. In less time than it takes to tell it, we were mounted and racing to the rear. Within about half a mile of the bridge we passed a small brigade of infantry ‘double quicking’ in the same direction. We saluted each other with a cheer as we passed, for all felt that it was a critical time in the battle. As we came upon some rising ground we had a good view of the enemy across an open field about 500 yards distant. Here we halted an instant to close up the column, and for Captain Matthews to salute General Hardee and staff, who wished to know what troops we were.