  On the morning of the 12th, the regiment again moved out in pursuit of the enemy. Passing through Danville on the 13th, and through Lancaster on the 14th, it arrived in the neighborhood of Crab Orchard, on the evening of the 15th, and went into camp on the bank of Dix River, Ky., two miles from Crab Orchard, on the morning of the 16th, or rather the army went into bivouac, for the tents and camp equipage were yet in Louisville. An order, however, was immediately sent back to have them brought up. The distance marched since leaving Louisville, is one hundred and thirty miles. And here and thus ends Don Carlos Buell's campaign in Kentucky. A campaign which should have resulted in the capture or annihilation of the rebel hordes, but which will hereafter be regarded as one of the most miserable failures in the military history of the country. True, the State of Kentucky is now rid of the insolent, thieving foe, but this was not the task assigned the commander of the army of the Ohio. He was expected to utterly destroy them, and he had the men and the opportunities to do so; but instead, he permitted the enemy to fall upon, in force, and almost destroy a wing of his army, when fifty thousand men were in easy supporting distance; and then, as if to complete his work of imbecility or treachery, allowed them to escape, when their retreat might still have been cut off. It is said that the army in Flanders swore terribly, and there is no doubt of that fact. Most armies do. But if any one had been fond of profanity, and wished to hear vigorous denunciations, in unmistakable Saxon, they should have heard the army of the Ohio, on the merits of the arch traitor, Don Carlos Buell. The third great error of the war was now most clearly demonstrated—that of continuing Don Carlos in command, after his arrival at Louisville, Ky. Here is an extract from a soldier's letter, written to his boy at home, after losing his summer's harvest by the excessive high waters of that season, showing in what the thoughts of the soldier frequently consist while idle in camp: "Danville, Ky., October 22, 1862. "Dear Son:—For the first time since the 28th of September, I am sitting in a tent, writing. We came here yesterday, and are indebted to the report that some rebel cavalry are following us up pretty closely, for the purpose of picking up stragglers or capturing some of our train, for our leisure day. Our army is moving back to Lebanon, which is on the Louisville and Nashville railroad, and our brigade is the rear guard. "We left Crab Orchard, Monday morning, and got this far, when we were halted, and two regiments, the Twenty-Second Indiana and Seventy-Fourth Illinois, were sent back to attend to the rebels. We will, perhaps, only remain here until these regiments return, and then move on. "This is a beautiful day, and causes me to think of home. I would delight, above all things, to be with you this pleasant afternoon. I should like to look around with you, and see what you have left after your year's hard work. I know it is not much, but perhaps what you have is worth looking at. You have two or three nice 'shoats' in the pen, which you are feeding for your winter's meat. They are doing finely—will make fine, tender, juicy ham, such as we in the army are not accustomed to. Their spare-ribs will be most delicious, and the sausage meat you can get from them will repay you for the trouble of making it. Chickens you have, I see, in abundance—ah! yes, they are very nice. One fried now and then is not bad in a small family like yours, or even made into a pot-pie, is not hard to take—decidedly better than a dose of rhubarb. I see one there, now, that would do either for a fry or a stew—that one with the plump breast and yellow legs. Yes, chickens are a great help to a family, but an army has no use for chickens. The individual soldier sometimes finds use for them, as the people living along the line of march have learned to their sorrow. "I see that you have a milch cow or two. Well, I reckon you make that which some people call butter, from the milk of the cow. Butter, if I remember rightly, is a yellow greasy substance which people sometimes spread on bread or hot biscuit, which, as they fancy, adds materially to their relish. I suppose it is quite necessary to those who have learned to use it, judging from the longing of the new recruits after it on leaving Louisville; but we in the army have no use for such stuff, and consequently a cow would be of no service to us, while alive, at any rate. If she had been starved a few weeks, and then skinned, we, perhaps, could make use of her bones for making soup, as we understand that. Ah, ha, you have one horse left too. Well, that's better than some folks I know of down here in Dixie. The less stock you have the less feed it takes, and the more time you have to spare for something else. And then there is another consolation about it—your taxes will not be so great next year. And then also you will not be called up o' nights to see if your horses haven't got loose in the stable and gone to kicking each other in the dark. I think it is a blessed thing to have nothing. Now, when we left Bowling Green, Kentucky, on our march from Nashville to Louisville, our wagons were all left behind, and all the knapsacks and trunks left with them. Our young officers had lots of fine clothes, etc., in their trunks, and our soldiers had pants, coats, etc., in their knapsacks, which were all left and consequently lost, and now they are lamenting their heavy losses. I had nothing of the sort. The clothes on my back—two shirts and two or three pair of socks—was all I had, and of course I brought them with me and lost nothing; consequently didn't care a snap about the wagons, and now one little handkerchief will hold all my worldly goods, and I am as happy as—a fish on dry land. So I say, blessed be nothing." On the morning of the 26th the brigade moved out for Lebanon; passing through Lebanon, it took the direct road for Bowling Green, where it arrived on the morning of the 4th of November. In the meantime General Rosecranz, succeeding Buell in command, had arrived at Bowling Green, and was personally inspecting and forwarding the different divisions on towards Nashville as fast as they arrived. General Jeff. C. Davis, having been released from arrest, for shooting General Nelson, also arrived here and assumed command of his division. Here, too, the Fifty-Ninth received an unlooked for acquisition, in the shape of an Assistant Surgeon from Knoxville, Illinois. Charles Bunce reported himself for duty as a commissioned Surgeon of the Fifty-Ninth Regiment Illinois Volunteers, somewhat to the astonishment of the men, as no intimation of his appointment had ever reached them. It would naturally be supposed that the men of a regiment would be more deeply interested in the selection of a proper person to look after the health than any others, and in most regiments they have the selection of their own Surgeon, but in the Fifty-Ninth it seems to have been taken for granted that the men were mere automatons, only fit to be looked after as a lot of mules should be in corral. It is a universally admitted fact that many more men die in the army from other causes, than those produced by the shot and shell of the enemy. Some would fain believe that disease alone is chargeable with this fatality, but it is not so. A large majority of the fatal cases in the army are, without a doubt, produced by the malpractice of ignorant young men, who, through the influence of some personal friend, receive a commission as Surgeon. Very culpable is that man who recommends to the position of Surgeon a man entirely unfitted for the place, merely because he is a personal friend or relative. There are many young men who are now tampering with the lives of the noble soldier, whose qualifications are only such as they have acquired in attendance behind the counter of some one-horse drug store, or such as is obtained by taking care of some eminent doctor's horses. There is no other position in the army having so great a weight of responsibility attached as that of Surgeon, and there is no other position filled with so little regard to qualification as this one. It is to be hoped that more care may be bestowed by those in authority in ascertaining the qualifications of those sent to preserve the health and lives of the soldiers. Leaving Bowling Green the regiment passes over the same road it had traversed about a month before, and arrives at Edgefield on the evening of the 7th of November, 1862. The only incident of note on the march was the burning, by the "Louisville Legion," of two large residences, from the windows of which they had been shot at while passing towards Nashville on their former visit, and the capturing of eleven prisoners, by our advanced skirmishers, on the morning of the 6th. The distance from Crab Orchard to Nashville, via the route marched, is one hundred and fifty-six miles. |
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