Cavalry Service Under Gen. Wheeler

Confederate Veteran
Volume 11, No. 8, Page 353-4
August 1903

By W. H. Davis, Company F, Fourth Tennessee Cavalry.

For some time I have been contemplating writing a series of war reminiscences upon the individual exploits, adventures, and achievements of Gen. Tom Harrison's cavalry brigade. It was composed of the Eighth Texas (Terry's Rangers), Eleventh Texas, Third Arkansas, and Fourth Tennessee. I hope that what I write will give pleasure to those now living who laid down their arms in glorious defeat at Charlotte, N. C., and reflect credit upon those gallant and unflinching heroes whose bones are now crumbling in tombless graves on the hundreds of gory fields.

The Eighth and Eleventh Texas were nicknamed "Chums;" the Third Arkansas, "Joshes;" and the Fourth Tennessee, "Paul's People," the last named for our lieutenant colonel, Paul Anderson. On one occasion, after a severe engagement, many of his regiment checked up short, and he was heard to inquire: "I wonder whar the h— all my people are?" It was the custom of the soldiers of each regiment to mingle in camp and on the march with any other regiment in the brigade. However, when a "scrap" was "on tap," whether by matured plans or unexpectedly, every soldier was in line somewhere, ready to do battle, and, if need be, to die, for they were a solid phalanx of heroes. What could be more glorious than a dauntless hero, fearlessly jeopardizing his life for a cause he deems just?

After Sherman left Atlanta and started on his famous (infamous) march to the sea, Kilpatrick, with about five thousand cavalry, started in the direction of Augusta, presumably contemplating the destruction of our arsenals and cotton factories in operation there. Gen. Wheeler, with his command of about twenty-five hundred strong, at once started in hot pursuit, and, after several days' skirmishing between our advance and Kilpatrick's rear, the latter pitched camp near Rock Springs, Ga. By the shrewdness of Capt. Shanon, who commanded Wheeler's Secret Scouts, Kilpatrick's pickets were captured without the fire of a gun, leaving his camp wide open. "Little Jo" rode into the enemy's camp at daylight next morning, finding Kilpatrick and his men asleep, and opened fire on them as they lay in bed. Kilpatrick barely escaped capture by mountain a bareback horse caparisoned only with a halter, he being bareheaded, barefooted, and with nothing on but his underclothing, leaving several fine horses, his gold-mounted sword, a pair of ivory-handled six-shooters, and a handsome saddle—all of which the boys presented to Gen. Wheeler. Among the horses captured by us was a beautiful spotted stallion which Kilpatrick was riding. Although the entire camp was completely surprised, the Yanks fought like emissaries from the infernal regions. They lay in bed and used their seven-shooting Spencer carbines and forty-five caliber six-shooters with deadly effect. It required about fifteen minutes to completely stampede them. They left three hundred and fifty killed and wounded on the field, and six hundred prisoners, with a like number of horses, and the greater part of their equipage and pack mules. We followed up the victory, hard pressing our foe. About 4 P.M. Kilpatrick's advance reached Buck Head Creek, and carefully prepared to fire the bridge spanning it. After crossing it, the application of torches soon had it ablaze. By a dash of "Paul's People" the enemy's rear guard was quickly driven back, and the burning bridge soon recovered from the flames. During this delay Kilpatrick lost no time in erecting rail breastworks, and when we crossed the creek we encountered his outpost within a mile. His first line of works, about two hundred years in front of the main line, was manned by a dismounted brigade, their right being protected by a mounted regiment in the open, level field, and their left by a dense woodland. "Little Joe" and "Old Paul" rode at the head of our column, marching in fours. A dense woodland skirted our right, and an open field stretched a quarter of a mile to our left. Arriving within about one hundred yards of the first line, it opened on us a galling fire which threw the head of our column into more or less confusion. An order from Gen. Wheeler to "left front into line" and charge the mounted regiment miscarried, but Jim Blair and myself personally heard the order, and spurred our horses forward to take our places in line. We reached a point within fifty yards of the mounted regiment, every man of whom directed his fire at us. A captain in the enemy's line pointed his sword at us and shouted: "Shoot the —— scoundrels!" Having no hope of escaping with my life, I dismounted, and, turning my horse parallel to their line, rested my carbine across my saddle and took three deliberate shots at him, the third one taking effect in his chest. One of his men seized the reins of his bridle, and another his arm, and conducted him to the rear, whether dead or alive I cannot state. About this juncture Col. Anderson filed the column to the right into the woods, marching to a distance that left our rear opposite the extreme left of the enemy's line. The Tennesseeans were followed by Terry's Rangers, and both regiments wheeled into line. The Third Arkansas and Eleventh Texas were aligned to the left of the road in the open. All this was quickly accomplished under a murderous fire. Our buglers blasted the charge, and the entire brigade was hurled at our foes like a thunderbolt. The routing of the bluecoats quickly succeeded the main line, on which was planted a battery of four twelve-pound howitzers, which opened a destructive volley with grape and canister. "Little Joe" then sounded a retreat, so as to realign his entire command. Ashby's brigade was on the right, Dibrell's on the left, and Harrison's in the center. Kilpatrick's command was covered by a continuous line of breastworks in crescent shape. Anderson's Tennesseeans and Terry's Rangers, being in the timber, proceeded slowly until reaching the open. Meantime the Eleventh Texas and Third Arkansas went by our left flank in as perfect a line as I ever saw on a drill field. Reaching the open, our bugler, Jim Nance, sounded the charge, and at our foe we went like an avalanche, but our entire line was driven back in defeat. Retiring and re-forming, a second assault was made with the same result, we both times sustaining fearful loss in men and horses in a hand-to-hand encounter across the breastworks. We retreated to our former position to re-form for the third onslaught. Being in line, Col. Anderson took position in front and center of the regiment, and commanded: "Attention!" Every man's ears awaited his command, when he cried out: "Boys, I want every d— man in this regiment, when we reach the edge of the woods, to put spurs to his horse and go like h— to the Yankee breastworks; then abandon your horses, and, with a six-shooter in each hand, go over and drive the d— scoundrels out." From every throat in the line the reply went back: "All right, Colonel. Your people will all be there." Old Jim Nance's bugle's shrill notes sounded "Forward," and with a yell we again started, not to defeat but to a glorious victory, the howitzers still roaring their uncomfortable refrain, to the successful silencing of small arms.

Out of the woods, we put spurs to our foaming chargers, and reached the breastworks. Each man, religiously obeying orders, with a six-shooter in each hand, commenced scaling the enemy's works in the face of a galling fire. Our foes, quickly perceiving our determination to win or die, were at once discomfited, and beat a retreat, when the wild work of human destruction commenced. We went over the breastworks at sunset, using our six-shooters very effectively, leaving the field blue with their dead and wounded, and capturing some two hundred prisoners with their horses and arms. Our men fought well to avenge our comrades, whom we had left weltering in their precious blood. We followed in hot pursuit until it became too dark to successfully find our way through the pine and black-jack undergrowth. This victory demoralized Kilpatrick and his soldiers, since we were so eminently successful in driving him from a position of his own choosing, and that, too, strongly fortified and manned by more than double our number, and he decided to abandon his raid on Augusta.

I am not in possession of any official data to give the casualties on either side, but I know both suffered fearfully. Fighting superior numbers with superior arms behind breastworks gave us the hot end of the wire. But we started in to win, and in doing so we saved the loss of more value than "Little Joe's" entire command ever cost the Confederacy.

A very amusing incident which I cannot resist describing took place as we were retiring from our second assault. Lieut. Charles A. Baird, while we were passing through the woodland, was caught under the chin by a vine and dragged from his horse. In falling the vine was twisted into a loop, suspending him about two feet from the ground, making a comical picture. The writer, seeing his predicament, rushed to his assistance with a large Bowie knife, clipped the vine, and thereby saved him from a most absurd hanging. Meanwhile the shells and solid shot were pruning the pine and cypress trees about us, but we had a good laugh and the experience made us lifelong friends.

Kilpatrick never attempted another sally from the infantry army, feeling, I suppose, that he would suffer like defeat. Thence it became "Little Joe's" duty to keep the enemy rounded up in as small a compass as possible, which he efficiently accomplished. Sherman was heard to remark during the campaign that Wheeler was the best provost guard he ever had. No command of cavalry was ever so successful as was Gen. Wheeler's on this campaign in the discomfiture and destruction of an enemy and his supplies.