I had some personal adventures during the battle, two or three of which may be worth the reader's perusal. The lamented General Lytle, who was killed in the second day's fight at Chickamauga, held the right of McCook's corps most of the day; and when he saw the evening closing in on him he sent me down to the left, telling me to post on a mile or so and see how everything stood, saying that the service was of the utmost importance. This was on the 19th.

Away I went, first down in front of the rebel lines, and in full view of them, till I saw they were preparing to advance, when, dashing across the open place, I came over to our own front. I turned down it to a long break in the line; I then followed the general direction of our front for half a mile, when I reached one of our own batteries which I found to be literally dismantled. The caissons were blown into fragments, the guns dismounted, and the gunners were scattered, dead and wounded, thick around it. Poor fellows! they had been stricken down at their posts, torn and mangled, by shell and grape.

I had no time to stop, as much depended on my diligence; perhaps I held the lives of many men in my hands. I rode on, some three-quarters of a mile further, still seeing no troops, when I turned back. I passed the dismantled battery again, and stopped a moment to see if I could identify it, when one of the wounded men feebly called out:

"Soldier, cover me up; cover me up; I am cold; oh! so cold."

The supplicatory tones were hard to resist, but I saw the enemy advancing, and hastened back to the General. As I reached our line again, I hailed a body of troops with:

"What brigade is this?"

"Third brigade of Van Cleve's division," was the hurried response.

I had barely passed it when a double crash of musketry told me that they had closed in upon the advancing enemy. I now put my mare out to her best speed, to pass the next brigade; and in answer to my hail, they shouted: "second brigade of Van Cleve's division;" and I had hardly passed when a heavy volley of the enemy's musketry whistled over the heads of our men, and was immediately answered by the brigade.

The firing behind me was now both rapid and destructive. As I passed on, hailing the next command, I found it was the first brigade of Van Cleve's division, and as I had just reached the end of its line, it, too, joined in the furious contest, with a deafening crash of musketry. The firing, now, for a short time, was intense, and the work of death terrific; but the enemy gave way, and retired to their old position.

I reported to General Lytle the condition of things on his left, and as the enemy remained quiet for a little time, Van Cleve now closed up the gaps in the line. Before this change of position, however, I was again sent over toward the enemy, to see what they were doing; and I reached the creek in the thicket, and crept on my hands and knees until I got close enough to hear them talk.

"There, that's right," said one fellow.

"Hand me that glass," said another.

On raising up and looking through a fence, I saw they were turning a battery on General Lytle's headquarters; and at once, without heeding their shout to halt, I ran at my best speed for the foot-log over the creek. A few shots behind me had a wonderful effect in accelerating my pace, so that I never ran better than at that time. I sprang on my horse just as the Johnnies leaped out of the brush on the other side of the creek; but before they had time to fire I was off like a shot, for the hill. I at once dismounted, and leaping over the breastworks, was met by the General, who asked me what the rebels were about.

"They are," said I, "turning a battery so as to rake your position"—and I had hardly uttered the word "position," when a shell from it passed whistling between our heads. The shock caused by the current staggered the General about six feet back, and jarred me, creating a sensation such as would be produced by a stroke on the ear by a light board.

The same day, in the morning, I was passing our ammunition train, and saw on the right of it, a man sitting on a horse in an open field, scrutinizing the train closely, up and down, and around. He was in our uniform, and bareheaded, when I observed him, but I soon perceived that he held a white hat in his hand. I at once concluded that if he was a Yankee he had no business there; and if a rebel he had still less, so I "went for him," as the soldiers express it; that is, I went to kill him, if I could not take him prisoner. He saw me coming, and fled to a barn on the hill at some distance from us, and near a clump of timber. I was about two hundred yards from the train, and could not follow directly after him, as the creek was wide, deep, and had high, steep banks; but some distance down was a ford, for which I made, and when I crossed it on the jump, I saw one of our Lieutenant-Colonels, a Captain, and a colored servant, watering their horses in the creek. I rode up on the hill about a hundred yards, and the barn was still about fifty yards from me, when about thirty rebels rode out from behind the building, and out of the woods, and fired a volley at me. I was not hurt, but convinced that I was too close to them, and wheeled and went back in a rather precipitate manner. The Colonel heard the firing, and he and his party ran off down toward the train; but as I rode the best horse, I soon overtook them and reported the case to him. He was, fortunately, one of General McCook's staff. I told him that it was plainly the intention of the rebels to assault the train and blow it up; and this, five resolute men could have easily done, without danger to themselves.

I now went to the friendly shelter of a rail fence close by, and had a lively time with the rebs till the infantry got in sight, when they mounted their horses and left; and even then they could have destroyed the train had they known the true state of affairs; but every now and then I would fire a shot and give a yell, and I suppose they thought I had plenty of help close by.

On the second day, I was with Lytle's brigade until after the General was killed. He had sent me a long way out before the brigade skirmishers, to see for him if the enemy were coming. While on this service, I discovered an officer of the rebel army hid behind a bush that concealed him from our skirmishers; but I was about parallel with him, and of course, had a fair sight, and improved it. I fired at him three times, as fast as I could shoot a Spencer rifle; and the third bullet brought him down, his horse galloping away to a party of mounted men still further back in the timber. I hurried on in the woods, dodging from tree to tree, and from one hiding place to another, until I saw the enemy's skirmish line, which was advancing slowly, at the same time keeping well "dressed;" and instantly I was off to inform General Lytle that they were coming. On the line I saw a staff officer, to whom I gave my information, and who was going to the General, and he promised to report. I then took my place in the line of skirmishers, and as the rebel skirmishers came in sight, we made the fire so hot that they soon fell back to their ranks, while we, ourselves, were ordered into our breastworks.

As soon as we turned to retire to our breastworks, we were beset by a heavy fire from the enemy's columns; and one Colonel made his men get down on all fours, and no doubt saved many a life by this maneuver.

For some reason, our first line of breastworks was abandoned after the delivery of the second volley; and as we took our position behind the second line, I placed myself behind a large chestnut tree, the top of which had been broken off by a storm, and near which I had tied my mare some time before. As I felt perfectly secure, while the rebels were coming I examined my ammunition, and laid it out on the ground by my side, and I found I had just thirty-three rounds.

When the rebels arrived within eighty yards, I began firing; and our men held them so closely there, that at one time they seemed on the point of breaking and flying from the field. As for myself, I aimed every shot at their belt-plates, and before they drove us, I had fired all my ammunition but two shots; and at that time I got a cartridge fast in my gun. A soldier was at that instant passing me, and I caught him by the leg, and without seeing who he was, I asked him for his ramrod. He jerked it out, and threw it almost directly in my face, which made me a little mad and caused me to look up, when I beheld our army flying in the utmost disorder down the hill on which they were posted. I knocked the cartridge hull out of my gun; and already the enemy were seizing prisoners, and clubbing their muskets on such as were stubborn enough to resist. Hastily I fired my two remaining charges, almost in the faces of the advancing rebs, and I raised my gun to break it over a tree, when thoughts of prison hardships flashed across my mind, and I resolved to run for my life. The first part of the race was down hill, and I made good time. The air seemed literally full of flying bullets. I could hear them whistle close to my ear, down by my sides, and over my head; could hear them strike the ground behind me, and see them strike before me, while scores whistled, as it appeared to me, two hundred feet in the air. Far ahead I could see my comrades falling; and around me others, and yet others were biting the dust; and well I knew that the work of death was going on behind me also.

It was a terrible race, but I made it in safety, though I still feel the effects of the over-exertion in my chest. It appears, when I reflect upon it, almost miraculous that I escaped death.

As I had sent my rifle into Chattanooga, by Captain Rockwell, of the 15th Pennsylvania cavalry, I carried a Springfield gun during the rest of the fight, but only got five shots. It was in the first part of this charge that General Lytle so gloriously fell—his body pierced with three bullets, and his sword dripping with the blood of the foe. When he saw his noble brigade break he drew his blade and rushed upon the enemy, but only to yield up his life, a precious sacrifice upon the altar of liberty, dying as he had lived, for his country.

This ended my adventures in this fearfully bloody struggle—one in which our men exhibited most heroic qualities, and which gained to us, in the end, the ground we fought for, though the cost was frightful; and it was soon after, as every reader knows, followed by stupendous results.

Long will I remember the proud look of defiance upon the face of every man when once within the fortifications at Chattanooga. As they were filing in the rebels reached the summit of Mission Ridge; and as they advanced, in full line of battle, they sent up loud shouts of victory, which were defiantly answered by our men, with cheer after cheer, as defiant and proud as ever. Soon the rebels opened, with shot and shell, upon every assailable point; but they were promptly answered, with accuracy, by our artillery, and they declined to assault us in our position, hoping to force a surrender through famine—a delusive phantom, as they soon discovered to their cost.