General Steadman superseded by General Schofield, of Missouri — Colonel Brownlow's Regiment — His Bravery — A Rebel Officer Killed by a Woman — Discontent in East Tennessee — Picket Duty and Its Dangers — A Gallant Deed and a Chivalrous Return.
Camp near Triune, Tennessee,
April 24, 1862.
I arrived in camp day before yesterday, and immediately reported for duty.
Last night General Schofield took command of this division, General Steadman having been assigned to the Second Brigade. General Schofield comes to us with the highest recommendations for gallant daring, and his appearance among the boys was the signal for a neat ovation. He was serenaded by a crowd of singers, and, upon the conclusion of a patriotic song, he came to the front of his head-quarters and made a telling speech, which was enthusiastically received by his command. General Steadman being called for responded, regretting to part with his old command, but rejoicing that he had been superseded by a gentleman and a soldier so worthy of the position that had been assigned him. General Steadman assured the General that he had as fine a set of soldiers as were to be found in the Army of the Cumberland; men who had been tried and never found wanting; men whom he assured General Schofield would go wherever ordered, and against any foe. After the adjournment of the public demonstration, the two generals, with their staffs, were handsomely entertained by Captain Roper, where song, sentiment, and recitation were the order of the evening—Colonel George, Colonel Vandeveer, Colonel Long, and other notables being among the guests.
While thus enjoying ourselves, the General received a telegraphic dispatch from head-quarters, announcing the capture of McMinnville by our forces.
The command of the Third Division, we feel confident, is in vigilant hands. Brigadier-General Schofield has heretofore proved his efficiency in Missouri. His staff consists of Major J. A. Campbell, A. A. S.; W. M. Wherry, Aid-de-camp; A. H. Engle, Aid-de-camp and Judge Advocate; Captain Kirk, Quarter-master; Captain Roper, Commissary; Captain Budd, Inspector of Division, and Doctor Gordon, Medical Director.
The East Tennessee Cavalry still continue to prove their gallantry. I spent a pleasant afternoon with them yesterday, and paid a visit to their hospital. I saw six of the noble fellows who were wounded in a late fight. About ten days ago, Colonel Brownlow, a regular "chip of the old block," took a part of the regiment out some twelve miles from camp, toward Duck River, and, coming upon a large party of secesh, gave them a "taste of his quality." A short time after, the Colonel, with nine of his men, became detached from the main body, and found themselves completely surrounded by the rebels, and were within thirty yards of the foe, who ordered the Colonel to surrender. A moment's parley with his men, and the Colonel, with the boys, rode toward the rebels, and, with a few adjectives, quite unparliamentary to ears polite, much to their surprise, dashed through their line. This audacity saved them; for, before they had time to recover from their surprise, Brownlow and his men were beyond their reach. I was told, by one of the prisoners, that, at one time, twenty rebels were firing at that "little cuss in the blue jacket," as they called the Colonel, during the day's performance. Several splendid charges were made by these Tennesseeans.
James Mysinger, of Company I, from Green County, after being mortally wounded—the noble fellow—fired three shots. The Colonel dismounted to assist the dying soldier, who, with tears in his eyes, said:
"Colonel, I've only one regret—that I am not spared to kill more of those wretched traitors. Tell me, Colonel," continued he, "have I not always obeyed orders?"
"Yes, Mysinger, you are a noble fellow, and have always done your duty," said the Colonel, patting him on the cheek, and brushing the cold sweat from his brow.
"Now, Colonel," said he, "I am ready to die."
Oliver Miller, Company C, received a severe wound in the arm. He is only seventeen years of age. John Harris received three balls. Robert Adair was wounded in the head. William Riddle was completely riddled, receiving one ball and four buck-shot. David Berry had his thigh broken, jumping from his horse. Berry's father was murdered by rebels at Cumberland Gap. His head was placed upon a block and cut off, by order of Colonel Brazzleton, of the 1st East Tennessee rebel cavalry. Nearly all these men have not only their country's wrongs to avenge, but the wrongs heaped upon their fathers, mothers, and sisters. I spent an hour in conversation with these wounded men, and all were laughing and talking in the best of spirits. Such men are invincible.
A brother of Colonel Brownlow, who is now on a visit to this camp, informs me that he had it from the most reliable source, that the rebels in and around Knoxville were actually suffering for food. An order was issued by the rebel commander at Knoxville, a few days since, to seize all the hams, sides, and bacon belonging to private parties, leaving only fifty pounds for each family. A Mrs. Tillery, of Knox County, residing twelve miles from Knoxville, when her house was visited for the purpose of being pillaged, in the fulfillment of this order, expostulated with the lieutenant in command. She told him that fifty pounds would not keep her family two weeks, and she had no way of obtaining more. Notwithstanding her entreaties, the rebel lieutenant ordered fifty pounds to be weighed and given to her. He had scarcely given the order when Mrs. Tillery drew a pistol and shot the lieutenant through the heart. The rebel detail left the meat, and took off the corpse of their commander. The spirit of discontent is manifesting itself in various ways among even the most ultra rebels. They are getting tired of seeing their country devastated by the two armies, and are anxious for a settlement; and it only awaits the daring of a few to inaugurate a "rebellion within a rebellion," which, if once started, will spread like wild-fire.
Picket Duty and its Dangers.
Of all the duties of a soldier, outpost duty is the most trying and dangerous. Courage, caution, patience, sleepless vigilance, and iron nerve are essential to its due performance. Upon the picket-guards of an army rests an immense responsibility. They are the eyes and ears of the encamped or embattled host. Hence, if they are negligent or faithless, the thousands dependent upon their zeal and watchfulness for safety, might almost as well be blind and deaf. The bravest army, under such circumstances, is liable, like a strong man in his sleep, to be pounced upon and discomfited by an inferior foe. For this reason the laws of war declare that the punishment of a soldier found sleeping on his post shall be death.
But although the peril and responsibility involved in picket duty are so great, the heroes who are selected for it rarely receive honorable mention in our military bulletins. Their collisions with the enemy are "skirmishes." The proportion of killed and wounded in these collisions may be double or triple what it was at Magenta or Solferino, but still they are mere "affairs of outposts." "Our pickets were driven in," or "The enemy's pickets were put to flight," and that is the end of it. Presently comes the news of a brilliant Union victory; and nobody pauses to consider that if our pickets had been asleep, or faithless, or cowardly, a Union defeat might, nay must, have been the consequence.
We forget what these men endure—their risks, their privations, their fatigues, their anxieties, their battles with themselves, when sleep—more insidious than even the lurking enemy in the bush—tugs at their heavy eyelids, and their overwearied senses are barely held to their allegiance by the strongest mental effort. The soldier who rushes to the charge at the command of his officer is animated by the shouts of his comrades, inspirited by the sounds of martial music, and full of the ardor and confidence which the consciousness of being intelligently led and loyally supported engenders. He sees his adversaries; he fights in an open field; his fate is to be decided by the ordinary chances of honorable war. Not so the picket-guard. He is surrounded by unseen dangers. The gleam of his bayonet may, at any moment, draw upon him the fire of some prowling assassin. If he hears a rustling among the leaves, and inquires, "Who goes there?" the answer may be a ball in his heart.
A Gallant Deed and a Chivalrous Return.
In the recent movement of Stoneman's Cavalry, the advance was led by Lieutenant Paine, of the 1st Maine Cavalry. Being separated, by a considerable distance, from the main body, he encountered, unexpectedly, a superior force of rebel cavalry, and his whole party were taken prisoners. They were hurried off as rapidly as possible to get them out of the way of our advancing force, and, in crossing a rapid and deep stream, Lieutenant Henry, commanding the rebel force, was swept off his horse. As none of his men seemed to think or care any thing about saving him, his prisoner, Lieutenant Paine, leaped off his horse, seized the drowning man by the collar, swam ashore with him, and saved his life, thus literally capturing the captor. Paine was sent to Richmond with the rest of the prisoners, and the facts being made known to General Fitz-Hugh Lee, he wrote a statement of them to General Winder, Provost-Marshal of Richmond, who ordered the instant release of Lieutenant Paine, without even parole, promise, or condition, and, we presume, with the compliments of the Confederacy. He arrived in Washington on Saturday last. This act of generosity, as well as justice, must command our highest admiration. There is some hope for men who can behave in such a manner.
But the strangest part of the story is yet to come. Lieutenant Paine, on arriving in Washington, learned that the officer whose life he had thus gallantly saved had since been taken prisoner by our forces, and had just been confined in the Old Capitol prison. The last we heard of Paine he was on his way to General Martindale's head-quarters to obtain a pass to visit his imprisoned benefactor. Such are the vicissitudes of war. We could not help thinking, when we heard this story, of the profound observation of Mrs. Gamp: "Sich is life, vich likevays is the hend of hall things hearthly." We leave it to casuists to determine whether, when these two gallant soldiers meet on the battle-field, they should fight like enemies or embrace like Christians. For our part, we do not believe their swords will be any the less sharp, nor their zeal any the less determined, for this hap-hazard exchange of soldierly courtesy.[Back to Contents]
