Daring and Suffering:

W >> William Pittenger >> Daring and Suffering:

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In order to understand why the destruction of the Georgia State
Railroad was of so much consequence, I will refer to the situation of
affairs in the Southwest, in the opening of the spring of 1862.

The year commenced very auspiciously for our arms. Fort Donelson had
fallen, after a desperate contest, and nearly all its garrison were
taken prisoners. The scattered remains of the rebel army, under
Johnston, had retreated precipitately from Kentucky, which had indeed
been to them "the dark and bloody ground." Columbus and Nashville were
evacuated, and fell into our hands. Island No. 10 was invested, and
the Tennessee river groaned beneath a mighty army afloat, the same
that had conquered Donelson, under its popular leader, General Grant,
and which, it was fondly hoped, would strike far away into the center
of the rebel States. Throughout the North, men talked of the war as
done, and speculated as to the terms of a peace that was soon to come.

But the end was not yet. The rebel leaders, who had embarked their all
in this cause, and had pictured to themselves a magnificent
slaveholding empire, stretching away from the Potomac to the Sierra
Madre, in Mexico, and swallowing up all tropical America in one mighty
nation, devoted to the interests of cotton and slavery alone, over
which they should reign, were not yet satisfied to relinquish their
cause as desperate, and abandon their glorious dreams. With a
wonderful energy that must command our admiration, though it be only
of the kind that is accorded to Satan as pictured in "Paradise Lost,"
they passed the conscription law, abandoned the posts they still held
on the frontier, and concentrated their forces on a shorter line of
defence.

The eastern part of this line extended from Richmond, through
Lynchburg, to East Tennessee. In the west, it was represented by the
Memphis and Charleston Railroad, extending from Memphis, through
Corinth, Huntsville, Chattanooga, and Atlanta, to Charleston. Here
they poured forward their new levies, and began to prepare for another
desperate contest.

The unaccountable inertness of the Eastern army of the Union, under
McClellan, gave them time to strengthen their defences, and reinforce
their army, which had dwindled to a very low ebb during the winter.
But while the commander of the East was planning strategy that, by the
slowness of its development, if by nothing _worse_, was destined to
dim the lustre of the Union triumphs, and lose the results of a year
of war, the West was in motion. Down the Mississippi swept our
invincible fleet, with an army on shore to second its operations. Up
the Tennessee steamed Grant's victorious army, and Buell, with forty
thousand men, was marching across the State of Tennessee, to reach the
same point. My own division, under the lamented General O. M. Mitchel,
was also marching across the State, but in a different direction,
having Chattanooga as its ultimate aim, while Morgan, with another
strong force, many of whom were refugees from East Tennessee, lay
before Cumberland Gap, ready to strike through that fastness to
Knoxville, and thus reach the very heart of rebellion.

To meet these powerful forces, whose destination he could not
altogether foresee, Beauregard, who commanded in the west,
concentrated his main army at Corinth, with smaller detachments
scattered along the railroad to Chattanooga. The railroads on which he
relied for supplies and reinforcements, as well as for communication
with the eastern portion of rebeldom, formed an irregular
parallelogram, of which the northern side extended from Memphis to
Chattanooga, the eastern from Chattanooga to Atlanta, the southern
from Atlanta to Jackson, Mississippi, and the western, by a network of
roads, from Jackson to Memphis. The great East Tennessee and Virginia
Railroad, which has not inaptly been called "the backbone of the
rebellion," intersected this parallelogram at Chattanooga. Thus it
will be seen that to destroy the northern and eastern sides of this
parallelogram isolated Beauregard, and left East Tennessee, which was
then almost stripped of troops, to fall easily before General Morgan.

So important was this destruction of communication deemed by those in
power, that it was at first intended to reach both sides, and destroy
them by armies; but the distance was so great that the design of
destroying it in this manner was abandoned.

However, just at this time, J. J. Andrews, who was a secret agent of
the United States, and had repeatedly visited every part of the South,
proposed another method of accomplishing the same object, by means of
a _secret_ military expedition, to burn the bridges on the road, and
thus interrupt communication long enough for the accomplishment of the
schemes which were expected to give rebellion in the southwest its
death-blow. He first made the proposition to General Buell, who did
not, for some reason, approve of it. Afterwards he repeated it to
General Mitchel, who received it with more favor.

Our division was at this time lying at Murfreesboro', repairing some
bridges that had been destroyed, preparatory to an onward march
further into the interior. All at once, eight men were detailed from
our regiment--four of them from my own company. No one knew anything
of their object or destination, and numberless were the conjectures
that were afloat concerning them. Some supposed they had gone home to
arrest deserters; others, that they were deserters themselves. But
this last idea was contradicted by the fact that they were seen in
close and apparently confidential communication with the officers just
before their departure, as well as by the character of the men
themselves, who were among the boldest and bravest of the regiment.
Many supposed that they were sent into the enemy's country as spies;
but the idea of sending such a number of spies from the privates in
the ranks was so obviously absurd, that I did not seriously consider
it. However, I was not long to remain in uncertainty, for an officer,
who was an intimate friend of mine, revealed the secret to me. The
enterprise was so grand and so audacious, that it instantly charmed my
imagination, and I at once went to Colonel L. A. Harris, of the Second
Ohio, and asked, as a favor from him, that if any detail was made for
another expedition of the same kind, I should be placed on it.

Soon after, one of the party, from Company C, returned, and reported
that he had ventured as far as Chattanooga, and there had met a
Confederate soldier who recognized him as belonging to the Union army;
and while, for the sake of old friendship, he hesitated to denounce
him to the authorities, yet advised him to return, which he
immediately did, and arrived safely in camp in a few days. He would
give no details that might embarrass his companions, who were still
pressing their way onward into the Confederacy.

A short time after this, all the party came back, and I received full
details of their trip to the center of rebeldom. They had proceeded in
citizens' dress, on foot and unsuspected, to Chattanooga; there had
taken the cars for Atlanta, where they arrived in safety. Here they
expected to meet a Georgia engineer, who had been running on the State
road for some time, and, with his assistance, intended to seize the
passenger train, at breakfast, and run through to our lines, burning
all the bridges in their rear. For several days they waited for him,
but he came not. They afterwards learned that he had been pressed to
run troops to Beauregard, who was then concentrating every available
man at Corinth, in anticipation of the great battle which afterwards
took place. Thus foiled, and having no man among them capable of
running an engine, they abandoned the enterprise for that time, and
quietly stole back to our lines. Had an engineer then been along, they
would, in all probability, have been successful, as the obstacles
which afterward defeated us did not then exist.

Our camp had been moved onward from Murfreesboro' to Shelbyville,
which is a beautiful little city, situated on Duck river. We camped
above the town, in a delightful meadow.

It was Sabbath, the 6th of April, and the earliness of the clime made
the birds sing, and the fields bloom with more than the brilliancy of
May in our own northern land. Deeply is the quiet of that Sabbath,
with the green beauty of the warm spring landscape, pictured on my
mind! An impression, I know not what, made me devote the day to
writing letters to my friends. It was well I did so, for long and
weary months passed ere I was permitted to write to them again.

But while the day was passing in such sweet repose with us, it was far
different in another army; that was the day on which Grant was
surprised by Beauregard, and only saved from destruction by the
assistance of the gunboats. This, however, we did not learn for
several days after.

On Monday, Andrews returned to our camp. He had spent some time along
the line of the Georgia State road, and on his return reported to
General Mitchel that the scheme was still feasible, and would be of
more advantage than ever. He, however, asked for a larger detail of
men, and twenty-four were given from the three Ohio regiments then in
Sill's Brigade. One man was detailed from a company, though all the
companies were not represented, and I believe in two[1] instances, two
men were detailed from one company--they were probably intimate
friends, who wished to go together.

[1] One of these I noticed only very lately.

During the day, I saw Andrews in the camp. I had seen him frequently
before, away up in the mountains of eastern Kentucky, but did not then
observe him particularly. Now I paid more attention. He was nearly six
feet in hight, of powerful frame, black hair, and long, black, silken
beard, Roman features, a high and expansive forehead, and a voice fine
and soft as a woman's. He gave me the impression of a man who combined
intellect and refinement with the most cool and dauntless courage. Yet
his manner and speech, which was slow and pensive, indicated what I
afterwards found to be almost his only fault--a slowness to decide on
the spur of the moment, and back his decision by prompt, vigorous
action. This did not detract from his value as a secret agent, when
alone, for then all his actions were premeditated, and carried out
with surpassing coolness and bravery; but it did unfit him for the
command of men, in startling emergencies, where instant action
afforded the only chance of safety. This trait of character will be
more fully developed in the course of my story. I conversed with him
on the object of the expedition, not, of course, expecting a full
detail, but receiving a general idea. I put particular stress on his
promise, that whatever happened, he would keep us all together, and,
if necessary, we would cut our way through in a body. This was
because, being near-sighted, and, therefore, a bad hand to travel in a
strange country, with no guide, I had a particular horror of being
left alone.

I returned to my company, and procured a suit of citizen's clothes
from our boys who had been out before. All the members of the company,
seeing me so arrayed, came around to try to dissuade me from the
enterprise, which to them appeared full of unknown perils. It was
gratifying to be the object of so much solicitude, but having decided
to go, I could not yield.

My captain, J. F. Sarratt, of Company G, Second Ohio, as brave and
true-hearted a soldier as ever lived, earnestly entreated me not to
go; but finding my determination was fixed, he bade me an affectionate
farewell. Seldom have I parted with more emotion from any one than
these war-worn veterans.

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when we left camp, and
started for the place of rendezvous at Shelbyville. The sun was
shining brightly, and the bracing evening air sent the blood coursing
cheerily through our veins, and inspired us with the brightest hopes
of the future. Soon we reached Shelbyville, and lingered there for an
hour or two, when Ross and I, acting under the previous direction of
Andrews, started out of town. Our orders were for us all to proceed
along the road in small squads, for two or three miles, and then halt
and wait for him.

We walked quietly along, until about dark, when, seeing none of the
others, we began to grow uneasy, fearing we had gone on the wrong
road. We met several persons, but they could give no account of any
one before; then we saw a house just by the road, and crossing the
fence, went up to it to get a drink of water. Before we reached the
door, a dog came up behind my companion and bit him--then ran away
before punishment could be inflicted.

The bite was not severe, and I good-humoredly laughed at his mishap;
but before we again reached the fence, the same dog came once more.
Ross saw him, and sprang over the fence; but I had only time to reach
the top of it, where I sat in fancied security. But the merciless
whelp, in his ire, sprang at me, seized my coat, and tore a large
piece out of it! That coat, thus _cur_-tailed, I wore all through
Dixie. I mention this incident, because it was what some would call a
bad omen.

CHAPTER II.

Midnight Consultation--Plans Developed--Money Distributed--_Compagnons
du Voyage_--A Dismal Night--Sheltered from the Storm--Southern
Unionist--Arrested by Federal Soldiers--Beyond the Lines--Panic Caused
by Negroes--Method of Avoiding Suspicion--Continuous Rain--Behind
Time--Hunting Human Beings with Bloodhounds--The Cumberland
Mountains--Rain again.

We now proceeded on our way--not rejoicing, for our situation grew
every moment more perplexing. Darkness was falling rapidly, and not
one of our comrades was visible. We were almost certain we had taken
the wrong road. Finally, we resolved to retrace our steps, and
endeavor to obtain some clue to our journey, or if we could not, to
return to camp; for, without instruction, we knew not how or where to
go. We therefore retraced our steps till in sight of Shelbyville, and
then, sure that none could pass without our knowledge, we waited
nearly an hour longer.

Our patience was rewarded. A few, whom we recognized as belonging to
our party, came along the road; we fell in with them, and were soon
overtaken by others, among whom was Andrews. Now all was right. Soon
we were as far from Shelbyville as Ross and I had been when alone, and
a few hundred yards further on we found the remainder of our comrades.

In a little thicket of dead and withered trees, sufficiently open to
assure us that no listening ear was near, we halted, and Andrews
revealed to us his plans. There were twenty-three gathered around him;
twenty-four had been detailed, but from some cause, one had failed to
report. In low tones, amid the darkness, he gave us the details of the
romantic expedition.

We were to break up in small squads of three or four, and travel as
far south as Chattanooga. If questioned, we were to answer so as to
avoid exciting suspicion, and tell any plausible tale that might
answer our purpose.

We were to travel rapidly, and, if possible, reach Chattanooga on
Thursday evening at five o'clock. This was Monday, and the distance
was one hundred and three miles, a heavy travel on foot; but then we
were allowed to hire conveyances, if we could.

Andrews then gave us some Confederate money to bear our expenses, and
we parted. There were three others with me; P. G. Shadrack, of Company
K, Second Ohio, a merry, reckless fellow, but at heart noble and
generous; William Campbell, a citizen of Kentucky, who had received
permission to come with us, in a soldier's place. He was a man of two
hundred and twenty pounds weight, handsome as Apollo, and of immense
physical strength, which he was not slow to use when roused, though
good-natured and clever in the main.

The third was the most remarkable man of the whole party. He was not
educated highly, though he had read a great deal; but in natural
shrewdness, I rarely, if ever, saw his equal. He had traveled
extensively over the United States, had observed everything, and
remembered all he observed. Had he lived, the composition of this book
would have been in abler hands than mine. In addition to this, he
excelled, perhaps, even Parson Brownlow, in the fiery and scorching
denunciation he could hurl on the head of an opponent. In action he
was brave and cool; no danger could frighten him, no emergency find
him unprepared. These were my companions.

The rain had begun to fall slightly as we walked out the railroad, on
our route, and soon it increased to torrents. The night was pitchy
dark, and we stumbled along, falling into gutters here, and nearly
sticking in the mud there, until midnight, when we resolved to seek
shelter from the storm.

For a long time we could find no indication of a house, until, at
last, the barking of a dog gave us a clue. After some dispute as to
which side of the road it was on, we struck off over a field. Our only
guide were the random flashes of lightning that gave us a momentary
view of the country around. The better to prosecute our search, we
formed a line within hearing distance of each other, and thus swept
around in all directions. At last we found a barn, but were so wet and
chilly that we resolved to hunt on, in the hope of finding a fire and
a bed.

After a still more tedious search, we found the goal of our wishes. It
was a rude, double log-house. Here we roused up the inmates, and
demanded a shelter for the night. The man of the house was evidently
alarmed, but let us in, and then commenced questioning us as to who we
were.

We told him we were Kentuckians who were disgusted with the tyranny of
the Lincoln Government, and were seeking an asylum in the free and
independent South.

"Oh," said he, "you come on a bootless errand, and had better go back
home, for I have no doubt the whole of the South will soon be as much
under Lincoln as Kentucky is."

"Never!" we answered, "we will fight till we die first!"

At this the old man chuckled quietly, and only said, "Well, we'll see;
we'll see," which closed the discussion.

We were truly glad to find a Union man under such circumstances, but
did not dare to reveal our true character to him, and he probably
believes to this day that he harbored some chivalric Southerners.
However, he provided us with a good supper and a comfortable bed,
promising, also, not to inform the Federal pickets on us. The next
morning, the sky for a time was clear, but it soon became overcast,
and we were again compelled to suffer the inevitable drenching that
befel us every day of this dreary journey.

We reached Wartrace in the midst of a pelting storm. At first we
intended to go around the town, as it was the last station on our
picket line. It was raining so hard that we thought we would not be
interrupted in passing through it, but our guards were too vigilant
for us. They stopped us, and after being for some time detained, and
trying to play off the innocent Southern citizen, as hundreds do, we
were obliged to reveal our true character to the commanding officer
of the post, which, of course, secured our release.

Then again, we traveled onward for a time, wading the swollen creeks,
and plodding through the mud as fast as we could. We were now outside
of our lines, with nothing to trust to but the tender mercies of the
rebels. Soon after, we found what a slender ground of trust that was,
but _now_ we were safe in the completeness of our disguise.

We met many others of our party, and trudged along--sometimes in
company with them, but oftener alone. Toward evening, we reached
Manchester, crossed Duck river, which was at flood hight, and entered
the town.

Here we found the population in a wild ferment, and on inquiring the
cause, learned that some of the citizens had reported an approaching
band of Yankee cavalry, and that they were even now visible from the
public square. We repaired thither with all speed to witness the novel
spectacle of the entrance of National troops into a hostile town, from
a Southern point of view. Mingled were the emotions expressed; fear
was most prominent, but I thought I could detect on some countenances
a half-concealed smile of exultation. Soon the terrible band loomed
up over the hill which bounded the view, when lo! the dreaded enemies
were seen to be only a party of negroes, who had been working in the
coal mines in the mountains somewhere. Some of Mitchel's men had
destroyed the works, and the contrabands were brought here for safe
keeping. The feelings of the chivalry may be better imagined than
described, as they dispersed with curses on the whole African race!

We here obtained from some of the citizens the names of the most
prominent secessionists along the route we were to travel, who would
be most likely to help us on to that blissful land where we might
enjoy our rights in peace (?) undisturbed by even dreams of
Abolitionists. These names were a great advantage to us, because
always having some one to inquire for, and being recommended from one
influential man to another, it was taken for granted that we were
trustworthy characters, and few questions asked. That night we were
within a few miles of Hillsboro', but so much were we delayed by the
rain, that we began to fear we could not reach our destination in
time. My feet, too, were sore from the gravel and dirt that filled my
shoes in crossing the creeks, and wading through the mud, and already
we were weary and stiff from traveling in the wet. But we resolved to
press on, and, if necessary, to travel in the night, too, rather than
miss our appointment.

Where we stayed that night, I first heard from the lips of a
slave-owner himself of hunting negroes with bloodhounds. Our host said
he had seen some one dodging around the back of his plantation, by the
edge of the woods, just as it was getting dark, and in the morning he
would take his bloodhounds, and go to hunt him up, and if it proved to
be a negro, he would get the reward. He said he had caught great
numbers of them, and seemed to regard it as a highly profitable
business.

We, of course, had to agree with him; but I well remember that the
idea of hunting human beings with bloodhounds, for money, sent a
thrill of horror and detestation through my veins. Not long after, we
found that bloodhounds were not for negroes alone.

The next morning, we continued our journey, and after walking three
miles, found a man who agreed, for an exorbitant price, and for the
good of the Confederacy, to give us conveyance in a wagon for a few
miles. This was a great help to us, and as we trotted briskly along,
we soon came in sight of the Cumberland Mountains.

Never did I behold more beautiful scenery. The rain had for a short
time ceased to fall, and the air was clear. The mountains shone in the
freshest green, and around their tops, just high enough to veil their
loftiest summits, clung a soft, shadowy mist, gradually descending
lower, shrouding one after another of the spurs and high mountain
valleys from view. But the beautiful scene did not long continue. Soon
the mist deepened into cloud, and again the interminable rain began to
fall. To add to our discomforts, our wagon would go no further, and
once more we trudged along afoot.

At noon we stopped for dinner at a house belonging to one of the
"sand-hillers." This is the general name applied to the poor class of
whites at the South. They have no property of their own, and live in
small hovels, on the worst portions of the lands of the rich. Here
they lead an ignorant, lazy life, devoting most of their time to
hunting and fishing; only raising a little patch of corn to furnish
their bread. They are almost as completely owned by their landlords as
the slaves, and are compelled to vote as their masters choose. In the
social scale they are no higher than any slave, nor do they deserve to
be, for their intelligence is less. The term "sand-hiller," or
"clay-eater," is a terrible one of reproach, and is applied
unsparingly by the aristocrats. Of course, our entertainment here was
composed of rather rude fare, but we ate the half-ground and
half-baked corn bread, with the strong pork, and went on our way
rejoicing.

CHAPTER III.

Crossing the Mountains--Playing Hypocrite--Legend of Battle-Creek
Valley--Lodged with a Secessionist--Strategy--A Welcome but Fatal
Delay--Exaggerated Accounts of Shiloh--Prevented from Crossing the
Tennessee--In the Mountains Again--Amusing Rebel Story--To the River
Again--Perilous Crossing--Success--Chattanooga--On the Cars--Night--Arrive
at Marietta.

We were near the foot of the Cumberland Mountains, and addressed
ourselves to the task of crossing them. Just as we were mounting the
first spur, we fell in with a Confederate soldier, who was at home on
a furlough. He had been in a number of battles, and among others the
first Manassas, which he described very minutely to me. Little did he
think that I, too, had been there, as we laughed together at the wild
panic of the Yankees. He was greatly delighted to see so many
Kentuckians coming out on the right side, and contrasted our noble
conduct with that of some persons of his own neighborhood, who still
sympathized with the Abolitionists.

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