W. Ed. Snyder

The War Spirit in Indiana—Breaking up a Traitorous Plot—Narrow Escape from Enemies—Assists in Securing Recruits—Becomes Chaplain of his Regiment—Exchange of Courtesies with a Presbyterian Minister—An Embarrassing Predicament—Saves Regiment from Capture—Organizes a Military Church—Chased by Johnnies—An Exciting Homeward Journey.

Indiana was a storm center during the Civil War. Her position was a strategic one. She was regarded as the keystone of the North. With Oliver P. Morton, “Indiana’s great War Governor,” at the head of affairs, she was held firmly to her moorings, and furnished a larger number of soldiers for the Union Army in proportion to population than any other State. Yet the State was constantly harassed by citizens who were unfriendly to the Union cause, and who secretly or openly sympathized with the South. Secret organizations for the purpose of aiding the Confederacy were common. Conspicuous among these was the Knights of the Golden Circle. Yet many not identified with these traitorous organizations were utterly disloyal. Hence, much bitterness and not infrequently bloodshed prevailed. It was not unusual for men in official position to use their influence against the Government, or even to join the army with traitorous intent.

Rev. Mr. Newgent was serving as pastor for the second year on the Clark’s Hill charge, when in the fall of 1863, he was “persuaded,” as he said, “to go into the army for safety.” With his wife he was paying a visit to his father-in-law in Parke County. In the neighborhood lived a man who was captain of Home Guards, but whose loyalty was strongly suspected. A small brother of Mrs. Newgent sometimes visited with his children, and on returning from one such visit, incidentally mentioned having seen some pretty guns in the barn where they had been playing. Newgent understood the meaning of these guns secreted on the premises of this traitorous man, and telegraphed the news to Governor Morton. A squad of soldiers was dispatched to the place and some three hundred guns were found. They were confiscated and a traitorous scheme was thus frustrated.

Newgent at once became the object of a great deal of attention. That he was responsible for the exposure, was generally surmised. A plan was formed to do away with him. On Sunday evening following the episode he was to preach at the Oak Ridge United Brethren Church in the community. In the midst of the service, by a preconcerted plan, the lights were suddenly extinguished, and his adversaries were about to execute their design. He succeeded in making his escape in the darkness by the assistance of an uncle. The outlook seemed rather stormy, and he was convinced that it was safer in the army than out of it. Leaving his wife in the care of her father, he hastened to Lafayette where a regiment, the 116th Indiana Infantry, was being formed by Colonel William C. Kise.

At that period recruits were hard to get and the work proceeded slowly. Newgent asked the colonel what the chance would be for him to get the appointment of chaplain.

“What church do you belong to?” the colonel asked.

“I am a United Brethren,” was the answer.

“I am sorry,” said the colonel, “I like the United Brethren Church and would like to give you the appointment; but this is to be a Methodist regiment; all the officers are to be Methodists, and it is understood that the chaplainship is to be given to a Methodist preacher up in the city.”

“Will you take me, then, as a private?” he asked.

“Certainly,” was the eager reply, “we shall be glad to take you, for recruits are coming in awfully slowly.” There were then only seven companies started. None of them were complete. Newgent offered to assist in raising recruits.

“If you will give me transportation papers,” he said, “I think I can get some men over in Warren County.”

“Warren County!” exclaimed the colonel in disgust. “It’s of no use to go there for recruits. I have had a couple of good men over there for three weeks and they have got only four men.” But Newgent insisted that he be allowed to try. He understood those people and felt that he knew how to approach them. The papers were finally given him, and he set out for Rainsville in this doubtful territory.

Rainsville, it will be remembered, was a headquarters for southern sympathizers, where little more than a year before but one Union man could be found. The task was a challenge to Newgent, the kind of a task he delighted in. Taking a boy with a drum and flag, he went to the village and nearby points, and soon had the inhabitants inoculated with the war microbe. The prospects of a draft about this time proved an effective argument in favor of enlistment, which was used for all it was worth. After an absence of six days he returned to camp with 104 men, which was the first full company in the regiment, this, too, from territory that was as completely southern in sentiment as though it had been in the very heart of the Confederacy.

The march to camp was a triumphal procession. The company of volunteers was accompanied by several hundred men and boys who fell in on the way. As they came into camp about twelve o’clock on Saturday night with colors flying and giving vent to their enthusiasm by singing and hollowing, it had the effect of a small army, not unlike that of Gideon’s band, when they multiplied the effect of numbers by noise and enthusiasm and scared the Midianites out of their wits. The colonel met them with a drum corps and the company was welcomed amid the most extravagant expressions of delight. The fact that recruits were coming in so slowly gave increased cause for demonstration. When the general hubbub had somewhat abated, the crowd demanded a speech from Newgent, and the demand was imperative. Though worn by physical exertion and hoarse from much haranguing, he gave a brief talk, at the close of which, amid great applause, some one moved that “Rev. Mr. Newgent be made chaplain of the regiment.” It was heartily seconded, and shouts of approval burst from every section of the camp. So, by general consent the rule to make it a Methodist regiment was waived, insofar as it related to the chaplainship, much to the satisfaction of Colonel Kise, and Newgent became their spiritual adviser.

The Methodist brother, who, it was understood, was to receive the appointment, came out the next afternoon (Sunday) to preach to the boys and get acquainted; but on being apprised of what had taken place the night before, he quietly withdrew, leaving Newgent in undisputed possession of the honors which his tact and energy had won.

The regiment was finally completed and mustered in for a term of six months, though it served considerably over time. Its first service was rendered in guarding the U. S. Armory at Detroit, Michigan. The armory was threatened by General Vallandigham, who had been banished from the United States because of treasonable expressions, and had placed himself at the head of a force in Canada with the purpose of threatening the Union from the north. The regiment was later sent to reËnforce General Burnsides in east Tennessee.

This was during the terrible winter of ’63 and ’64, when Burnsides was besieged by Confederate General Longstreet and was shut up in Knoxville. The hardships suffered by the Union soldiers during that memorable siege are matters of history and need not be recounted in detail here. Among the foremost of the sufferers was Newgent’s regiment, the 116th Indiana. All supplies having been cut off, the boys for many weeks had a hard struggle to keep from succumbing to hunger and cold. For a time they each had but one ear of corn a day; no tents, and not sufficient clothing for protection even under favorable circumstances. In the midst of the severest winter weather, over three hundred of the men were barefooted. Newgent was the best dressed man in his regiment, and it was with difficulty that he got his dress coat to hang together at the collar; and he suffered no little uneasiness lest his trousers would dissolve partnership with him.

A few characteristic army experiences will suffice in this connection and occupy the remainder of this chapter.

On reaching Tennessee, the regiment was stationed temporarily at Greenville. The care-free boys attended services the first Sunday morning at the Presbyterian church in the city. The pastor, Rev. Samuel McCorkle, treated them kindly. They were delighted with the reception accorded them, and on the following Sabbath a large part of the regiment, including the chaplain, turned out to worship at Rev. Mr. McCorkle’s church. When Newgent appeared in his chaplain’s uniform, McCorkle at once led him up to the pulpit and insisted that he preach. The chaplain was never averse to preaching whenever there was occasion for it, and so consented, under slight pressure. He observed the pastor’s manuscript neatly tied up with red ribbon, which told him he had barely escaped listening to a manuscript sermon. Newgent had little sympathy for a written discourse and took advantage of the situation to indulge in some pleasantries at the learned parson’s expense. He told the congregation, the greater part of whom were soldiers, that he had no set discourse, and that he never tried to palm off a written sermon upon a helpless congregation, as such a procedure was “like a doctor writing a prescription before examining the patient.” Rev. Mr. McCorkle accepted the criticism good-naturedly and invited Newgent to take dinner with him after the service. After several weeks of army rations, the dinner at Rev. Mr. McCorkle’s home was a most delightful change.

He returned the courtesy that had been accorded him by inviting his host to preach to his “boys” in the afternoon. The invitation was accepted. McCorkle did not deem it judicious to use his manuscript after the episode of the forenoon, and was visibly handicapped and embarrassed in his attempt at extemporaneous delivery. He talked but a few minutes and turned the service over to the chaplain.

After the service the two men had a heart-to-heart talk. McCorkle confessed his chagrin at not being able to preach without his manuscript, and expressed a determination to cultivate the habit of extemporaneous delivery. That the determination was carried out was seen in the fact that he became a leader in this method of preaching. And the two preachers continued fast friends.

An incident more pleasing to relate than to undergo occurred at Tazewell, Tennessee, where Newgent’s regiment had been dispatched with twenty-four others to check a Confederate force that was approaching from that quarter. They went into camp, building temporary fortifications with the grave stones of a nearby cemetery. About midnight the army was surprised by the sudden arrival of a force of Confederate cavalry that captured some of the outposts. Newgent, with some of his regiment, was garrisoned in an old building that had been used for a granary. As the fire was opened he caught up his clothes in his arms, and, mounting his horse, started down the hill for a more healthful location. The horse stumbled over some rocks, throwing the rider to the ground and scattering his precious wearing apparel to the four winds. There was no time for trifles, and the clothes were abandoned for the time. They were recovered about nine o’clock the next morning, much to the relief of the reverend, whose situation in the meantime was as embarrassing as it was uncomfortable.

On one occasion his coolness and ingenuity were the means of saving his entire regiment from capture. The regiment had been ordered across the Clinch River in east Tennessee to guard a narrow passage in the mountains at what was called Bean’s Station. They had gotten across and were camping in a bend of the river when news came that the rebels had superseded them, and three brigades were between them and the gap. They might easily have retreated, but the river became swollen from heavy rains, and to cross a swift, mountain stream under such circumstances was practically out of the question.

Newgent was sick at the time, being cared for at the colonel’s headquarters. During the early part of the night the colonel came to him, trembling with fear, and said, “Chaplain, what on earth is to be done? There is a strong rebel force on one side of us, and an unfordable stream on the other. If we are not out of here by morning every one of us will be captured.”

The rebels were confident that they could not get away and so waited until morning to bag their game.

“Bring six or seven of the boys here,” said Newgent. The boys were brought. He told them to go down to the river where they would find an old canoe partly filled with water. “Build a fire on the bank so that its light will shine across the stream, bail the water out of the canoe, put it in as good shape as possible, and then report.”

They followed his instructions, after which they came back to headquarters, and the sick chaplain got out of his bed and went back with them to the river. Though it was a perilous undertaking, the men got in the water-soaked canoe, and by the uncertain light of the fire, made their way to the other side of the angry stream. They went to General Curtain’s headquarters, related the situation, and procured a supply of cannon rope. With the rope they made a cable across the river. They thus devised a rude ferry by means of an abandoned and partly submerged barge which they raised and repaired for the purpose. The barge would carry about twelve men or one horse at a trip. It was propelled by the men holding to the cable and thus laboriously working their way from one side of the stream to the other. Through the dark, stormy night they toiled, and before daybreak the entire regiment with all appurtenances was out of reach of the enemy. When the rebels reached forth their hand next morning to bag their game, lo! it wasn’t there!

It was a terrible night’s work, however. The sick chaplain stayed with the barge until the last man was saved. He was twice thrown into the water, and ran a fearful risk in thus exposing himself at so critical a time. After the excitement of the night, by which alone his physical strength was sustained, he suffered a serious relapse. He was confined to his bed at General Curtain’s headquarters for about two weeks, when he again reported for duty. The men regarded him as their deliverer, and the satisfaction of having saved his comrades from the horrors of a southern prison compensated for all he suffered. For this heroic deed he was complimented on dress parade by a special order from the general.

The following reference to this incident is found in the “Official Records of the Army,” Series I., Vol. XXXI.:

As a means for the spiritual welfare of the “boys,” he conceived and carried out the idea of organizing a military church. Though there were various religious organizations among the soldiers, and some doubtless on similar lines, yet this was an entirely original conception with him. His church took no denominational name, but was made up of all who were willing to become members. It was completely officered, and maintained prayer meetings and church services at stated intervals. Two special revival meetings were held in which about 250 of the “boys” were converted.

His spiritual ministrations were not limited to the soldiers. Whenever an opportunity presented itself he would hold services at nearby churches and school houses. On one such occasion he incidentally, to use his own expression, “chased seven Johnnies for three and a half miles.” It was a merry race; like Jehu the entire party rode furiously. But as the chaplain had more at stake than his companions in the chase, he managed to maintain his position well in advance of the seven, and was quite willing to abandon the chase by the time he reached camp.

Not least among the interesting army “experiences” was the homeward journey. As previously stated, the regiment served over the time for which they enlisted. The men were impatient and homesick. Their destitute condition rendered many of them almost desperate. Almost half of them were barefooted and all were weakened by hunger and exposure. The morning on which they were to start home the colonel announced that they would proceed to Barbersville, Kentucky, and that there they would find a supply of much-needed clothing and provisions. This was a two-days’ march, which, in itself, was no pleasing prospect under the circumstances. The promise of food and clothing, however, nerved them for the ordeal. It was midnight when Barbersville was reached, and to their utter consternation the promised supplies were not there.

Things were looking blue. The colonel said to Newgent, “You have the best horse in the regiment. Take a couple of the boys and get out and find something to feed these men before morning.” He started, not to forage, but to beg. At the first house he came to be was met by a woman to whom he stated his mission. She showed him a blood spot on the floor where her husband had been killed by the rebels, and said that all she had was a half-bushel of meal, but she was willing to divide. It was all he secured, though he continued the search until daylight. Returning to camp, he threw the bit of meal at the colonel’s feet, and fell down exhausted, dropping at once into a deep sleep.

What happened during the time he slept, when the real situation dawned upon the men, he could only surmise. The next he knew, the colonel had him aroused and was ordering him to ride ahead of the regiment to a little water-mill about twelve miles distant to see what could be found there, and to arrange if possible to feed the men when they arrived. He found a few bushels of grain, most of it in a bad condition. When ground into meal it made just one pint each for the men. After they had eaten their morsel, the colonel made them a little speech in which he told them that the next objective point would be Camp Dick Robinson, and for every man to look out for himself until they reached the camp. This they were quite glad to do. And when in a few days they met at the camp, they were in better spirits, and were pretty well supplied for the rest of the journey.

The next way station was Camp Nelson. Here they were met by the Provost Marshal who declared the regiment under arrest for pillaging, and ordered them to stack arms. While the authorities were arranging the details for taking care of them, the colonel took advantage of the delay. “Attention, Battalions,” he shouted, “Shoulder arms—forward march—double quick!” The order was eagerly obeyed. A “double-quick” march was made to Nicholasville. This was a railroad town. Here they ordered a train for Cincinnati. The train steamed out of the station with its load of animated freight just as the Marshal with his guard galloped in sight.

The authorities at Cincinnati were notified by wire to arrest the regiment on its arrival there, but this was anticipated. So they got off the train at Covington, crossing the Ohio River by ferry to Cincinnati. There they got a train for Indianapolis without being detected. The train was pressed into service to convey them on to Lafayette, the home of the regiment. They reached the city on Sunday evening, as the church bells were ringing for the evening services. Newgent, as his custom was, went to church. Possibly he felt the need of it after what he had gone through. He went to the First Methodist Episcopal Church, and at the urgent request of the pastor, delivered the evening discourse to the delight of the splendid audience.

It should be said in justice to Rev. Mr. Newgent that he was not a party to any of the irregularities that almost brought his regiment into disrepute after it had acquitted itself so well on the field. He remonstrated with the men and exhorted them to better conduct, but when the pressure of army discipline was removed, the pent-up energies of these raw backwoodsmen were turned loose along various channels and could neither be suppressed nor regulated. The officers of the regiment, with the exception of Newgent, were summoned before the proper military tribunal at Indianapolis, to answer for their depredations. They were acquitted, however, being ably defended by Lieutenant-Colonel G. O. Beam. Whether or not the verdict was a just one, is of no special concern to us here. Suffice it to say that our subject, though a young man, so ordered his life as not only to keep himself unspotted from the world, but at the same time to win for himself the confidence of even the most hardened sinners. He was exonerated from all blame in advance, and his name was not brought before the court.