“Sick!” shouted Hanson. “Sick, sir! I’ve heard from you—I know you, sir! You can sit up all night to drink whisky and play cards, but you’re too sick to get out and do duty!”
Trapped, the lieutenant appealed instead to Hanson’s sense of humor. “Yes, General, yes—yes,” he said with a sigh. “General Hanson, the other officers all say that you’re mighty hard on ’em—mighty hard; they think that you’re a little disposed to be tyrannical, General, but I tell ’em, sir, that you’re a mighty good man.” That threw “Old Flint” off the attack just enough to draw a smile from him. “Come out of there, sir!” he said once more for effect, and then left the lieutenant to finish his morning nap.18
Good news came for Hanson here in Murfreesboro, as indicated by the malingering lieutenant’s mode of addressing him. For some time the indefatigable Kentucky lobby in Richmond sought a brigadier’s commission for Hanson, and in this instance his own wife played an important part in marshaling friends in the capital. “I have a ruling sense that has taken possession of me,” wrote Virginia Hanson to Eli Bruce, “to have my husband promoted.” She called on Bruce, “and through you to his other friends in Congress to exert yourselves on his behalf.” Her entreaties won Bruce and the rest of the Kentucky delegation, and they put their influence to work. It helped that the enemy exchanged Hanson in August. He would return to the brigade before long and as senior colonel would take command. Since a brigade called for a brigadier at its head, promotion for him seemed only natural. Yet in appealing to President Davis, Bruce put more emphasis on Virginia Hanson. “Her labors and charities have been unceasing in camp, in hospital, and in prison,” he wrote. “Her ambition ought to be gratified, as she has won promotion.” By November hope reached Murfreesboro that a general’s wreath would soon surround the stars on Hanson’s collar. “Is Col. Hanson made Brigadier?” Breckinridge asked of Bragg. Just when formal notification came is unclear, but on December 13, 1862, President Davis himself visited the Army. The first unit he reviewed was the 1st Kentucky Brigade, and as Jackman wrote in his diary, he “was well pleased with the ‘orphans.’ ” They passed before him marching in perfect order, and before the review ended, Davis formally promoted Roger W. Hanson to brigadier general. He never had time to sew on the wreath.19
Even a brigadier could not contain the wildness and insubordination of some of the Orphans. Drinking remained a problem, the men of Lewis’ 6th Kentucky particularly distinguishing themselves in this regard at Murfreesboro. As late as November 28 Hanson still complained that “the roll call is a mere farce,” and now he started punishments. When Lieutenant Minor Moore of the 6th Kentucky missed the roll, Hanson reprimanded him in front of the whole regiment.
More serious offenses mounted. The Orphans stole or destroyed four hundred dollars’ worth of wood, flooring, flour, and meal at the Beard and Brothers Mill. Lieutenant B. F. Arnett of Company D, 9th Kentucky, went to trial for abandoning his company in the fight at Shiloh, and was cashiered. Lieutenant G. W. Jones of Lewis’ 9th Regiment found himself convicted of forgery and absence without leave, and cashiered. Even small mutinies continued. On November 6 several men of the 2d Kentucky fell out without permission, and when Private Michael Morris was ordered to conduct them to the guardhouse, he replied, “I’ll be damned if I go on guard. Will go in the guardhouse for one month first.” He went for ten days.
As usual, Hanson’s old regiment caused the most trouble. In December the 2d Kentucky listed more men absent without leave than all the other Kentucky units combined. When Moses Ricketts of Company E created a disturbance and an officer threatened to shoot him, Peter Snapps stood by Ricketts, saying that they would have to shoot him too, and Ephraim Campbell refused to assist, saying he was “as good a man as the officer” and besides “this is Tennessee soil.” All three did thirty days and forfeited two months’ pay. The worst incident came in Graves’s battery, when Private Virginius Hutchen called on his mates to resist the guard placed on him. He denounced his officers as cowards and incompetent tyrants, and threatened to kill the officer of the day. Those who guarded him he accused of being tools of the officers, cursed them, and shook his fists at the officer in charge. He would spend three months in solitary confinement. When released, the testy Irishman went on to become one of the best soldiers in the brigade and, of all things, a poet.20
In December 10 per cent of the brigade’s strength reported absent without leave, though most of those were not deserters, but just men wandering about the countryside foraging, or sleeping off the revels of the night before. Indeed, a few longtime wanderers even returned. One irascible and pretentious young man, John H. Blanchard of Company I of the 4th Kentucky, who disappeared at Shiloh, now reappeared. Everyone believed that he had deserted while his company suffered nearly half its strength lost in the battle, and little good was said of him in the ensuing months. Now he told an improbable story of taking part in the battle with another command and being captured. The first man of his company that he met was John Marshall, who warned him that no one would believe his tale. “My faith in him was not gone,” wrote Marshall, and he took Blanchard to the tent of Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Hynes. The officer gave Blanchard a verbal drubbing, refused to allow him in his tent, and said he was “a disgrace to an old and honorable family” and should be drummed out of the Army. Hynes did relent to appoint a court of inquiry to examine the boy’s story first, and Marshall detailed the court. It met, but an hour passed without the necessary witnesses for the prosecution arriving. Captain Joseph Millett then moved that, in the absence of prosecution witnesses, Blanchard be declared innocent and returned to his company. The motion passed unanimously. Marshall conducted the boy to his old comrades and told him frankly to change his old haughty ways and forget the fairy tale about his capture, “to do his duty like a man and without a murmur.” When next the regiment went into battle, he concluded, Blanchard must make his performance in it just as conspicuous as had been his absence at Shiloh.21
Unfortunately, Blanchard’s case was the exception. Actual desertions continued, fired now not just by the old resentments, but as well by news that Bragg actually conscripted Kentuckians in their native state during his recent campaign. This amounted to slavery in the Orphans’ eyes, and Breckinridge saw that it stirred discontent once again in the 6th and 9th regiments. Added to this was the beginning of a war-weariness in the brigade, well expressed by Winstead. “Oh, how I wish the war would end and peace return that we might go to our wives and friends,” he lamented in a letter. The leaders on both sides, he declared, should leave their Congress halls to “reflect upon the sadness and desolation they are casting over one of the happiest countries that ever existed. There is a mourner in almost every house in the south.” Men seemed to have lost their reason. “The war must end and will end, but why not end it now?” To be sure, Winstead’s loyalty never wavered. Indeed, as he looked at his men he saw that “We are in high hopes of our success … and when we are whipped it will be when we are exterminated, and not ’till then.” Others did not see it that way. On December 5 Hanson ordered Cofer and Caldwell to pursue and capture a new group of deserters from the 6th and 9th Kentucky. They were to take as long as necessary to find and bring back the felons, among them Private Asa Lewis of Cofer’s Company E. He deserted on December 4 or 5, and three weeks from now would come close to starting the Orphans into the greatest mutiny of all.22
While the search for Lewis and the others progressed, the Orphans finally saw their first action of the season. On December 4 Bragg issued orders to Breckinridge to have the Kentucky brigade ready to move the next day with four days’ rations and its ambulances. That meant a fight. A federal garrison of twenty-one hundred men lay camped at Hartsville, forty miles north of Murfreesboro, part of the federal Army now commanded by Major General William S. Rosecrans. Positioned as they were on the Cumberland River, the Federals might be captured if sufficient surprise were achieved. Morgan conceived the plan, and received Bragg’s approval and the us
e of Kentucky infantry to assist his mounted men in the attack.
Early on December 5 the sergeants woke the men and issued them forty rounds of ammunition each. Poor Jackman was ill again, and so could not go, but he watched. “A heavy snowstorm was passing, and soon the gray column was lost to view in the whirling snow.” The Orphans marched eighteen miles to their first night’s bivouac, where they slept in four inches of snow. Here Hanson remained with the 4th and 6th regiments and Graves’s battery. Hunt, commanding a detachment of the 2d and 9th Kentucky, and Cobb’s battery, led his men forward again shortly after noon on December 6, following Morgan’s cavalry. After several miles the horse soldiers exchanged with the infantry and let them ride their mounts in order to rest. The whole command numbered less than fourteen hundred, Hunt’s Orphans making barely over eight hundred. By 10 P.M. that night they reached the Cumberland River. With only two boats available to ferry them, it took seven hours for the command to reach the north side. Only constant bailing kept one of the boats afloat, and frightened cavalry horses nearly kicked the planks from the other.
Once across, Hunt’s march toward Hartsville, five miles away, lay over terrible ground, often so hilly the men almost lifted Cobb’s guns up the slopes. Morgan intended to surprise the Federals before dawn, but the slow advance and an accidental encounter by the cavalry destroyed his hopes. Thus, by the time the Orphans sighted the enemy camp, the Federals awaited them in line on the crest of a hill, their artillery ready to rake the Kentuckians with metal.
Morgan dismounted his cavalry to form the left of his line, and sent Hunt to hold his right, the Kentuckians taking position under an already heavy fire. The cavalry, led by Basil Duke, opened the fight with an attack that drove the federal right flank back on its center nearly half a mile. Already the enemy was in trouble. With the Cumberland at their backs and Morgan and Duke in force on their right, their only means of escape would be their left, yet at this moment Hunt sent his screaming Kentuckians forward.
The 9th Kentucky on the right, the 2d on its left, the Orphans charged up the hill before them. Duke noticed that many of the men stumbled badly, their feet frozen during the night, “but the brave boys rushed in as if they were going to a frolic.” Hunt shouted, “Boys, kill a man with every shot,” and on they charged. The 2d Kentucky moved first, their advance unimpeded until they reached rough ground, where Major Jim Hewitt, commanding, halted and formed the men in line under fire. It was an ill-advised move, for the enemy already seemed to be falling back before them, yet now poured a deadly fire into the exposed Orphans. Among the fallen was Sergeant Tom Maddox of Company E. With his mouth opened in a Rebel yell, he took a bullet in his arm and another in the chest. At the same instant yet a third ball entered his mouth, killing him instantly.23
While Hewitt and the 2d Kentucky stood the heavy fire, Captain Bob Cobb and the two field pieces he brought with him went into battery on the right of Hunt’s line and supported the advance. They also drew deadly accurate fire from two enemy guns on the opposite hill. The second or third federal shell struck one of Cobb’s caissons while poor Private Tom Watts sat atop it. The caisson exploded with a thundering roar, scattering men, and bits of Watts, all over the hillside. Cobb limbered his guns and moved them to support the 9th Kentucky, which would advance next.
With Hunt commanding the Kentuckians here, and Caldwell looking for deserters, command of the 9th now lay with its senior captain, James Morehead. He ordered them forward at the double-quick, then yelled, “Charge bayonets! Forward march!” While the regiment rushed forward, officers in the 2d Kentucky, among them Moss and Phil Lee, renewed the charge of that regiment as well so that shortly both Kentucky units in a line raced up the slope toward the federal lines. They got within fifty paces of the enemy, then stopped, and for ten minutes traded volleys. Then they charged again and completely overran the Yankees, driving most of them under cover of their artillery.
In pursuing the enemy, many Orphans found a bluecoat here and there hiding in a hole or behind a rock. “Surrender or I’ll kill you,” Jim Burba yelled at one Federal. Instead the man fired point-blank at Jim, but missed. Burba did not. Meanwhile, Morehead and Hewitt pressed their regiments through the enemy’s camps to where the Federals, now completely surrounded by Hunt and Morgan, took refuge behind the brow of a hill overlooking the Cumberland. Their two field pieces sat in front of their line, and Color Sergeant John Oldham of the 2d Kentucky rushed forward and planted the colors of his regiment on the guns. Almost immediately the rest of the line passed him and pressed toward the enemy. At the same time Morgan’s dismounted cavalry swept against the other side of the Federals and even got behind some of them. There was a last hot firefight, and then a white flag fluttered behind the Yankee line. A. G. Montgomery of the 2d Kentucky, the man who carried Buckner’s flag of truce to Grant before the surrender at Donelson, now conducted Colonel A. B. Moore of the 106th Ohio to Hunt, where he surrendered 1,834 Federals.24
In fact, it was not much of a battle. The Federals behaved badly, many retiring without a fight, and Moore himself later resigned rather than be cashiered. But the Confederates did not know that now, and they reveled in their victory. The men roamed the enemy camps, looting joyously. Jasper “Jap” Anderson of Company B, 9th Kentucky, found a mule and commenced loading it with blankets, thirty pounds of coffee, and a dozen or so canteens filled with apple brandy. Johnny Green rushed into Colonel Moore’s tent, donned the officer’s overcoat, and was in the act of removing some flannel shirts from a valise when the colonel entered.
“My good fellow, don’t take my clothes,” said the mortified Moore. Green gave him the shirts but refused to hand over the coat. They would keep the colonel warm in prison, he said.
“Do give me my over coat & get the Major’s in the next tent; he was killed in the fight.” Johnny would not.
“You may have the Major’s,” he said, “I’ll keep this.”
The victory did not come without a cost, however. Hewitt lost sixty-five killed, wounded, or missing, most of them falling when he mistakenly halted the regiment under fire. Morehead took eighteen casualties, and Cobb ten. In all, the Orphans lost ninety-three of their number, and now the surgeon and nurses roamed the field looking for them. With other enemy garrisons within supporting distance of Moore, Morgan could not afford to wait. He would have to leave those too injured to walk or ride behind. Dr. John O. Scott, surgeon of the 2d Kentucky, stayed with them. He gathered the injured. On the field they found the mangled remains of poor gunner Watts, recognizable only by his bloody artillery cap. Nearby lay Lieutenant Charles Thomas of the 2d, blood spurting from an open wound in his chest, and dead alongside him was Lieutenant John Rogers of his same company. W. E. Etheridge, who that morning jokingly asked comrades to write to his lady fair should he die, now lay dead.
Scott commandeered a wagon belonging to some blacks and with it transported most of the wounded to the nearby house of a Mrs. Halliburton. Soon Morgan and Hunt left to return to Murfreesboro, and Scott and his wounded Orphans were on their own. It was not long before federal cavalry rode into Hartsville and took possession of the now empty battlefield. Many of the bluecoats turned out to be Kentucky cavalry, and when Scott was escorted to their commander, he saw Colonel John Harlan. “How are you, John?” one Orphan shouted as he recognized an old friend. “As soon as that social bombshell was exploded,” wrote Surgeon Scott, “all soon recognized each other and there was a general shaking of hands and greeting of friends.” Harlan and his men and officers visited the wounded at Mrs. Halliburton’s and vied fiercely with each other in acts of kindness and cheer. “It was a grand sight to see the man in the blue in all kindness and affection,” wrote Scott, “assisting his brother of the gray.” Harlan himself ordered coffee and rations for the Confederate wounded. For a time they became his Orphans, too. Once they were turned over to federal surgeons, the colonel allowed Dr. Scott and his nurses to return to Murfreesboro.25
The next two weeks passed in relative q
uiet for the Army at Murfreesboro, but not for the Orphan Brigade; for now it appeared that Braxton Bragg was ready to make open warfare against the Kentuckians. Four years later Basil Duke would write of Bragg, “The wrongs he did Kentucky and Kentuckians, the malignity with which he bore down on his Kentucky troops, his hatred and bitter active antagonism to all prominent Kentucky officers, have made an abhorrence of him part of a Kentuckian’s creed.” The seeds of Bragg’s antipathy for Kentuckians went to his failed campaign, the fact that men of the state did not flock to his banner, nor even support him by providing supplies. Further, the failure of Breckinridge and the Orphans to join him enraged his already paranoid mind against all men of the Blue-grass. It did not help that the Kentuckians also enjoyed an unusual influence in the capital, and with the Kentucky-born President Davis. It was time they were put in their place.
He started by ordering conscript officers to treat Kentucky men in exile in the South the same as anyone else liable to the draft. To this Breckinridge objected strongly, and it was even rumored that “Old Breck,” Hanson, and Buckner threatened to resign in protest. That is questionable, but certainly it made Bragg the enemy of all Kentuckians. “The Kentucky vanity is as irritable, although not as radical, as the Virginian,” Duke would say, “and sees a slight in every thing short of a caress.” Bragg hardly caressed them.
Into the middle of this situation stepped Mr. Thomas Estes, formerly a private in Helm’s 1st Kentucky Cavalry. Now he spent his time hunting deserters and returning them for a bounty. On December 8 he received ninety dollars for bringing three men from the 6th Kentucky, Company E, back to the Army. Two of them were Frank Driscoll and James Gillock. The third was Private Asa Lewis.
On December 20, 1862, a general court-martial sat to try Lewis and several others in the Army on charges of desertion. The indictment was read, violation of the Twentieth Article of War, to which Lewis then pled not guilty. As his story unfolded, it appeared that he enlisted originally for only twelve months, and did not feel that the reorganization of his regiment for three years or the war bound those who did not individually re-enlist. He did not. Further, his father now lay dead and his mother, Sallie, and three children needed him as their only means of support. Apparently he requested a furlough to go home and lay in a crop for them, but it was denied, and finally he told his friends in the company that he would go anyhow, and return to his place when he provided sufficiently for his family. Johnny Green believed that Lewis had actually deserted for this purpose once before, being brought back and let go with a reprimand. It would not be so now.
The Orphan Brigade: The Kentucky Confederates Who Couldn't Go Home Page 19
