by Michael Ross
He dismounted, tied his horse, and spread his rubber mat on the wet ground, getting his small tent up quickly to avoid being drenched. He tended his horse. Exhausted, too tired to consider Jenny’s letter, he fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
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He woke to shouting, followed by gunfire. All around him, men were hastily mounting up, leaving everything but weapons behind. It was still dark and raining hard.
“Federals! We’re under attack!”
Fear gave Will speed, and he quickly mounted. A minie ball whizzed through the tent where he had just been sleeping. Others in his company fell back to a stone fence, dismounted, and prepared to return fire. Will joined them.
Crouching behind the stones for cover, he loaded the Springfield and fired just below the muzzle flashes of the Federals. Another company of Raiders on their right joined the fight, but there was no order. Will wondered how long it would be before the Federals surrounded them. A few brave ones decided to mount a running charge, but fell before a volley.
Suddenly Morgan rode up on his black mare and rallied the troops. Everyone took heart at seeing their commander. Morgan ordered them to hold their fire and let the Federals approach. After a minute or so of quiet, the Federals grew confident and surged forward. At about forty yards, Morgan ordered “Fire!” The Federals fell, and those still alive retreated. A few on horseback couldn’t stop and rode in among the Raiders. The Raiders took these prisoners, including a parson and the colonel of the regiment.
“Please, sirs, let me return to my regiment,” pled the parson. “I must pray for them.”
Another of Will’s company spoke up, “The hell you say! Don’t Morgan’s men need prayin’ for just as much?”
The Federals regrouped and tried again. They surrounded other Confederate companies. Morgan, seeing the trap closing, yelled, “Follow me!” and took off up the Carthage Road. Will wondered at his not staying to reform the men and continued firing, until only a few of his company remained and the Federals were about twenty yards away. Mounted Federals came from the rear, sabers drawn, approaching Ben Drake, still firing. Will shouted a warning, “Come on, Ben! No sense getting caught!” Will spurred away after Morgan. Glancing back, Will saw Ben barely mounted in time, and then they were riding together at the rear of Morgan’s column. It was not an orderly retreat. Will didn’t have time to wonder how they had been surprised. He watched the path in the early dawn breaking now, and zigged and zagged to throw off the aim of the hotly pursuing Federals. Toby gave his best dodging boulders, jumping logs, avoiding mud holes, galloping. Will had no idea how many were chasing them, but the hail of bullets gave testimony that it was more than a few. They gained some space, now more than two hundred yards ahead of the Federals, and the bullets ceased. They could hear yelling behind them. They came upon Tom Quirkey, one of their company, dismounted. He’d been riding a captured Federal horse that threw a shoe. Tom ran sideways, into the woods. Later he passed them, on another horse, from one of their company who’d been hit. Both Ben’s horse and Toby began to show the strain—they’d been galloping for miles. They passed Morgan, discovering that his bridle had broken, but he urged them on. Will and Ben turned north onto side roads. The sound of the Federals was approaching again. Morgan came dashing up from behind, passing them. They pounded on, and came to the ferry at the Cumberland River, about twenty miles from Lebanon. Their horses were totally spent. The ferry was on their side of the river. It pained Will to leave Toby, but seeing Morgan leave his famous Black Bess, he felt there was no choice. They escaped—but only about twenty men. It seemed to Will the rest were gone, probably captured.
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The next day, men from Morgan’s command straggled in by ones and twos, all through the day.
“What happened, sir?” Will asked Morgan.
Morgan sighed. “Apparently our picket guards all retreated to a house for the night to be comfortable. One of them saw the Federals and rode to me as hard as he could, but they shot him just as he reached me. We had no warning beyond that. Now we shall have to scout for horses and supplies. I heard you saved the Whitworth—good man. Many have no guns at all now.”
They camped at Sparta, provisioning and recouping. They recruited new men. Will got a new tent mate, Thomas Hines. Another man, said to be a wizard with a telegraph, joined them, “Lightning” Ellsworth. To the delight of all the old hands, Duke joined them, recovered from his shoulder wound. Soon they had a force of one hundred fifty. Morgan promoted Will to brevet second lieutenant. By May 9, they moved north toward Glasgow, Kentucky. Will felt his new responsibilities, leading ahead and to the side, rather than his usual place in the rear.
The Home Guard thought them too strong to risk an attack, but heralded their coming by blowing conch shells heard for great distances. They had to take to side roads to avoid them.
They moved quickly, hoping to catch up to the train carrying their men captured in the Lebanon disaster. However, that was not to be, as Morgan discovered the men were shipped north by boat. Instead, they marched overnight to the area around Cave City. Scouting ahead, they found a stretch of the Louisville and Nashville railroad that was undefended. A long train full of Federal troops with horses and supplies was coming.
“Will, Duke, Hamilton—I want you to cut off any retreat the train might make. Bedsloe, you take the front—tear up the track, make them stop. We’ll seize supplies, horses, and prisoners. The Federals think us destroyed, that the Raiders are no more,” said Morgan.
“They’ll soon learn differently!” said Duke.
Will and the others waited in ambush until the train went by. Then he and others in his company threw logs, boulders, and any large object they could find onto the tracks. The train seemed unaware of its danger, even increasing speed.
Suddenly they heard the squeal of wheels on the rails, sparks flying. Will and the others came out of hiding, ready for anything. A Federal officer stepped out onto the platform, firing his pistols, but one of the new men, Ben Bigstaff, fired at him with a rifle, narrowly missing him. The officer then saw twenty or so rifles pointed at him, and dropped his pistols. There was no further resistance.
Will supervised unloading the supplies and horses. Now most of Morgan’s command would again be mounted. Will chose a long limbed Friesian, liberated from a Federal officer, and named him Shadow. They captured two hundred prisoners, along with food, ammunition, tents, and most of the things left behind in Lebanon. Will saw one of the women on the train beg Morgan to let her husband go, which he did. Morgan did not burn the train, for the sake of the ladies. After confiscating weapons, Morgan promised to parole most of the prisoners, to enable the Raiders to move quickly.
Will searched the train, to see what the men might have missed. He found a strong box in the coal car and brought it to Morgan.
“Good work, Will! Get a crowbar and open it!”
“Yes, sir!” Will and a private soon had the box open, and saw thousands of dollars in greenbacks, United States money, staring back at them.
Morgan laughed. “I think this calls for a celebration! Go over to the hotel and order a banquet for all the men and our Federal guests. We’ll pay the bill with the Federal’s own money!”
A few hours later, Will and all the Raiders sat down to dinner with crystal and china, across from the Federal soldiers. Had they met under different circumstances, they might have been shooting one another. Will escorted some of the wives back to the train, making sure they had every reasonable comfort. The engineer backed the train onto a siding and turned it back to Louisville.
They marched north, going northwest of Lexington. Will would have loved to go home and see his mother. He also wanted to see Jenny. The command was moving quickly, however, and they were not in friendly territory. He contented himself with posting letters to Jenny, his mother, and Julia at Versailles. The next morning, Will saw Morgan and Duke in high spirits and wondered what could have happened.
“What’s the good n
ews, sir?” Will asked Duke.
“Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just that our dear Colonel Morgan rode into Lexington last night, under the very noses of the Federals. Someone saw him and sounded the alarm, so he rode his horse through the door of his mother’s house on Mill St., gave her a kiss, then rode out again with twenty Federals giving chase. Gave’em the slip, though.” Will shook his head in wonder.
Morgan and the Raiders skirmished and burned, causing chaos for the Federals. Then Will heard that Morgan had received orders to go to Chattanooga. After ten days forced march, they rested for two or three weeks in Chattanooga. More recruits joined, and with all the new men, drills were intensified. Few of the original group from the Rifles remained. Will could barely keep track of the changes in rank, company, and function. A group of three hundred arrived from Virginia to join. The command received two howitzers and swelled to nearly nine hundred men. Duke was now lieutenant colonel. From disaster in Lebanon, they had grown again into a large fighting force. Will rarely saw Morgan now, tending instead to his own group of twenty new recruits. It felt good to rest. It even felt good to drill, a change from actual fighting. Everyone talked of a new northern push, to free Kentucky from the Federals and end the war. Soon they were on the move again, marching from Chattanooga to Knoxville, then on to Sparta, where they found their camp of two months before overgrown with weeds, but otherwise little changed. The roads were rough, and traveling two hundred miles in a few weeks was exhausting. Their recent success revived Will’s spirits some. Most important, they were on their way home!
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September 1862
The Confederates had them surrounded. Luther looked over the earthworks he was digging, trying to see the severity of the danger. It was mid-September and still hot. As long as he was in the midst of Union troops, he was safe. Yesterday, here at Munfordville, the Confederates had suddenly come out in force, but were not yet attacking. He didn’t know why. He was frightened—if the Confederates captured him, he’d be put in chains.
He resumed digging for another hour, concluding that the earthwork was tall enough to block rifle fire and broad enough to withstand a cannonball. There were perhaps twenty other men similarly engaged. They called their earthwork creation Fort Craig. He was wiping the sweat from his forehead when over near the bridge on the Green River about forty yards away, a group of Confederates advanced with a flag of truce. He decided to move toward the headquarters tent, since no one would likely trouble to tell him what was happening.
He pretended to be busy, no one paying him any attention.
“We come to offer y’all a chance to surrender,” the Confederate officer was saying. “You’re outnumbered, and surrounded. No sense in y’all dying when you haven’t got a chance.”
Colonel Wilder, the Union commander, responded, “Mighty generous. If it’s all the same to you, we’ll fight a while. Might be the tables will turn.”
“Not unless the Almighty Himself comes to fight for you. One last chance.”
“Not today,” said Colonel Wilder.
“Suit yourselves. May God have mercy on you, for Bragg will not.”
Within an hour, the shelling began. The air seemed to rain iron and shot. Men pressed against the earthworks, returning fire, but the Union forces had only six guns in their battery. Luther, not allowed to fight, manned bucket brigades putting out fires and saddled horses. One of their officers was determined to mount a sortie, to drive back the rebels, and perhaps break through.
The fort was in the shape of a five-pointed star. Anyone poking their head up on the southeast side of the fort got their head blown off almost immediately. It could only mean one thing—Confederate sharpshooters. Luther saw a private’s brains spatter the man next to him, who immediately ducked. Thinking quickly, Luther went and dragged the dead man away from the wall, and took his pistol with its ammunition belt, thus arming himself. He moved quickly back to the horses. The sortie was mounting up. Luther saw little chance of survival for the surrounded Union troops. He didn’t want to be caught there. He grabbed an extra horse for himself and followed. If there was a chance of getting out of here, this was it. A desperate chance, he thought. The prospect of a hundred lashes in a public square spurred him on.
He followed at the back of the group, staying a few yards behind. Everyone seemed intent on staying alive and didn’t pay him any heed. Hiram was near the front of the group. Luther worried that his friend would make too big a target. They rode northwest, toward the railroad bridge. An occasional shell from the Confederate cannon whistled their way, making them accelerate for the river. Just as their officer reached the river, preparing to swim his horse across, Luther saw them.
A group of four or five Confederates stood from their hiding places near the riverbank and took aim. The first one seemed to have their officer in his sights. Luther decided in that split second, kicking his horse to a gallop. He shot the lead Confederate and ran his horse over two more, knocking them aside, then wheeled and shot another. By this time, the Federals recovered and shot the other two. It was all over in ten seconds. The Union soldiers, even Hiram, looked astonished, wondering where he’d come from, but this was no place for a parley. A canister hit the beach and splattered death about one hundred yards away, and shrapnel embedded in the tree near Luther’s leg. They all pushed on rapidly across the river, reaching the streets of the town. Luther wondered where they were going, but as long as it was away from the Confederates, that was good enough for him. He heard firing off to the left and ahead. In a few moments, a picket challenged them—one in blue. It turned out they’d found Konkle’s battery and the 68th Indiana infantry. This brought the welcome news that reinforcements were on the way, from Dunham and Buell. There was no need to ride further north. Reinforcements were already coming as fast as possible. Luther saw the officer from their sortie conferring with Hiram, and Hiram pointing at him. The officer came over to him.
“Sir, I am Captain Horace Howland. I believe I owe you a debt. In spite of the fact that you were not supposed to be part of our expedition, which I’m inclined to ignore, you fought well. You were brave, and your interference was very timely.”
Luther was astonished to have such courtesy by a white man. “You’re welcome, sir. I just don’t want to go back to those graybacks and what they’d do to me. I wish I had the chance to fight as a regular soldier.”
Captain Howland seemed amused. “Well, you’ve certainly shown some ability in that area. To show my gratitude, and since we are short-handed, I’ll see that you’re issued a rifle. I cannot make you an official part of the company. But I may turn a blind eye to you accompanying us in a fight from time to time. You’ve shown that you know how to ride a horse as well as shoe one. If things go poorly for us, I personally guarantee you will have a way to escape before the end.”
“Thank you, sir!” said Luther, smiling with disbelief. The captain wheeled his horse and turned toward the battery. Hiram trotted over.
“Luther, you do very brave today. I am honored to call you a friend,” he said, sticking out a hand. Luther was dumbfounded—a white man wanted to shake hands? Luther shook his hand, but even his blacksmith muscles rebelled at the crushing from Hiram. “Oh, sorry,” said Hiram. “Sometimes I forget. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m all right.”
“Stay close to me in the battle.”
“Mr. Johannsen, right?”
“Just Hiram.”
“Don’t I recognize you from somewhere? Like before the army, I mean?”
“Perhaps. I’m from Cincinnati, and Sweden before that, but I spent a good deal of time in Lexington. My wife Julia is from there. Julia Crump, before we married.”
“She wouldn’t have a sister named Albinia by any chance?”
“Yes, yes, she does. But I heard Albinia was put in prison for helping slaves. I haven’t gotten a letter from my wife for some time now.”
“Albinia the one that set me free. I’m proud to know you.�
�
They both returned their attention to the battle, seeing a wall of gray across the river, headed for the fort. There was no way to rejoin their command, as a swarm of Confederates charged up the hill to the fort.
As evening fell, Luther saw nothing but Confederates around them. His mind raced—how would he get free? He’d never thought about being in a situation where he risked being in chains again.
Hiram approached as he knelt by the campfire. Out of habit, he stood.
“Luther, the captain he says come now. It doesn’t look good for the troops. Part of our army broke out to the south. He wants me to go find them, take them a message, and you come with me. It’s a risk, but he think tomorrow might be too late. He says he promised you a way out. But you have to come now.”
Luther looked around. “All right then. Let me grab my knapsack and bedroll. Any food for us? And what about that rifle I was promised?” Luther still had the pistol under his jacket that he used for a pillow.
“Already in the boat,” said Hiram. “We have to be quick, before the moon comes up. We’re floating right past the Confederate batteries.”
Luther didn’t argue. He grabbed his bag and followed Hiram to the river.
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Albinia used her contacts in the Negro community to inquire about Pastor Peter Jenkins. The reports were universally favorable. She figured if he was going to check up on her, she might as well do the same regarding him. Following this, she sent messages south on the Underground Railroad, to let people know she was taking in slaves again. With the Federal occupation of Kentucky, the trickle of slaves became a small stream. Most nights, she or Franklin lay awake, looking for lantern signals from the other side of the river. Occasionally a wagon came in during the day, crossing the bridge.
One bright full moon Saturday night, there were lanterns waving, and Albinia went down to the small landing they constructed for the arrival of boats. Within a few minutes a boat arrived, containing one white man at the oars and a young black family with three children, two boys and a girl. She helped them out of the boat and led them to her barn. Most times now, with less fear of slave catchers, she let them walk north from her place, giving them food and directions. This time, on impulse, she decided she would drive them north in the morning.
