"Co. Aytch," Maury Grays, First Tennessee Regiment

CHAPTER VI--MURFREESBORO

CHAPTER VI--MURFREESBORO MURFREESBORO BATTLE OF MURFREESBORO ROBBING A DEAD YANKEE

CHAPTER VI

MURFREESBORO

CHAPTER VI

BATTLE OF MURFREESBORO

CHAPTER VI

The impression that General Frank Cheatham made upon my mind, leading the charge on the Wilkerson turnpike, I will never forget. I saw either victory or death written on his face. When I saw him leading our brigade, although I was wounded at the time, I felt sorry for him, he seemed so earnest and concerned, and as he was passing me I said, "Well, General, if you are determined to die, I'll die with you." We were at that time at least a hundred yards in advance of the brigade, Cheatham all the time calling upon the men to come on. He was leading the charge in person. Then it was that I saw the power of one man, born to command, over a multitude of men then almost routed and demoralized. I saw and felt that he was not fighting for glory, but that he was fighting for his country because he loved that country, and he was willing to give his life for his country and the success of our cause. He deserves a wreath of immortality, and a warm place in every Southron's heart, for his brave and glorious example on that bloody battlefield of Murfreesboro. Yes, his history will ever shine in beauty and grandeur as a name among the brightest in all the galaxy of leaders in the history of our cause.

CHAPTER X--MISSIONARY RIDGE

CHAPTER X--MISSIONARY RIDGE MISSIONARY RIDGE SERGEANT TUCKER AND GEN. WILDER MOCCASIN POINT BATTLE OF MISSIONARY RIDGE GOOD-BYE, TOM WEBB THE REAR GUARD CHICKAMAUGA STATION THE BATTLE OF CAT CREEK RINGGOLD GAP

CHAPTER VIII

We continued to fortify and build breastworks at Chattanooga. It was the same drudge, drudge day by day. Occasionally a Sunday would come; but when it did come, there came inspection of arms, knapsacks and cartridge-boxes. Every soldier had to have his gun rubbed up as bright as a new silver dollar. W. A. Hughes had the brightest gun in the army, and always called it "Florence Fleming." The private soldier had to have on clean clothes, and if he had lost any cartridges he was charged twenty-five cents each, and had to stand extra duty for every cartridge lost. We always dreaded Sunday. The roll was called more frequently on this than any other day. Sometimes we would have preaching. I remember one text that I thought the bottom had been knocked out long before: "And Peter's wife's mother lay sick of fever." That text always did make a deep impression on me. I always thought of a young divine who preached it when first entering the ministry, and in about twenty years came back, and happening to preach from the same text again, an old fellow in the congregation said, "Mr. Preacher, ain't that old woman dead yet?" Well, that was the text that was preached to us soldiers one Sunday at Chattanooga. I could not help thinking all the time, "Ain't that old woman dead yet?" But he announced that he would preach again at 3 o'clock. We went to hear him preach at 3 o'clock, as his sermon was so interesting about "Peter's wife's mother lay sick of a fever." We thought, maybe it was a sort of sickly subject, and he would liven us up a little in the afternoon service.

CHAPTER X

After retreating from Chickamauga, the Yankees attempted to re-form their broken lines on Missionary Ridge. We advanced to attack them, but they soon fell back to Chattanooga. We knew they were in an impregnable position. We had built those breastworks and forts, and knew whereof we spoke. We stopped on Missionary Ridge, and gnashed our teeth at Chattanooga. I do not know what our generals thought; I do not know what the authorities at Richmond thought, but I can tell you what the privates thought. But here we were on Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain, looking right down into Chattanooga. We had but to watch and wait. We would starve them out.

CHAPTER X

At this place the Yankee outpost was on one side of the Tennessee river, and ours on the other. I was on the detail one Sunday commanded by Sergeant John T. Tucker. When we were approaching we heard the old guard and the Yankee picket talking back and forth across the river. The new guard immediately resumed the conversation. We had to halloo at the top of our voices, the river being about three hundred yards wide at this point. But there was a little island about the middle of the river. A Yankee hallooed out, "O, Johnny, Johnny, meet me half way in the river on the island." "All right," said Sergeant Tucker, who immediately undressed all but his hat, in which he carried the Chattanooga Rebel and some other Southern newspapers, and swam across to the island. When he got there the Yankee was there, but the Yankee had waded. I do not know what he and John talked about, but they got very friendly, and John invited him to come clear across to our side, which invitation he accepted. I noticed at the time that while John swam, the Yankee waded, remarking that he couldn't swim. The river was but little over waist deep. Well, they came across and we swapped a few lies, canteens and tobacco, and then the Yankee went back, wading all the way across the stream. That man was General Wilder, commanding the Federal cavalry, and at the battle of Missionary Ridge he threw his whole division of cavalry across the Tennessee river at that point, thus flanking Bragg's army, and opening the battle. He was examining the ford, and the swapping business was but a mere by-play. He played it sharp, and Bragg had to get further.