Military Reminiscences of the Civil War V2 by Jacob Dolson Cox

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When General Grant reached Nashville, he reported to the War
Department the results of his visit to us. [Footnote: _Id_., vol.
xxxii. pt. ii. p. 99.] He said that he found the troops so destitute
of clothing and shoes that not more than two-thirds of them could
march; that the difficulty of supplying them even with food was so
great that it was not advisable to send reinforcements; consequently
that the policy advised by Foster must be followed and active
operations suspended. Of his own journey he said, "From the personal
inspection made, I am satisfied that no portion of our supplies can
be hauled by teams from Camp Nelson [Ky.]." He proposed, on the
first rise of the Cumberland River, to send supplies by steamboat up
the Cumberland to the mouth of the Big South Fork, in the hope that
as this was a new route some forage for the teams could be got along
it, and that wagoning would be possible by that line into East
Tennessee. It did not turn out to be so, and the only relief we got
was by way of Chattanooga, where light-draught steamboats added
something to the facilities for supply. As his own most pressing
needs were relieved, General Thomas sent the steamboat "Lookout"
with a small cargo of shoes and clothing to Loudon. There our little
railway train met the boat and brought the goods to Knoxville, so
that in my own command we began to receive a little about the 10th
of January. It was very little, but it was greatly encouraging as a
foretaste of better things to come.

On the 12th General Foster was obliged to telegraph Grant that
things had grown worse rather than better since his visit.
[Footnote: Official Records, vol. xxxii. pt. ii. pp. 71, 72.] Many
animals were dying daily. The weather was still intensely cold, and
floating ice combined with high water, in the Holston had twice
broken the pontoon bridge at Knoxville. Food for man and beast was
all eaten out on the north side of the Holston River, and he
proposed to move most of the troops to the south and east of the
French Broad, in the hope of finding a region in which some corn and
forage might still remain. The great trestle bridge at Strawberry
Plains was completed, and a strong post would be left there to
protect it. A regiment was at work upon the bridge at Loudon. To
diminish the number of mouths to be fed, Foster gave the "veteran
furlough" at this time to several more of the regiments which had
re-enlisted. Trustworthy evidence showed that Longstreet was quite
as badly off as we were, and that he was not likely to move unless,
like us, he was forced to do so to find forage. Cavalry parties had
reported to us that there were considerable quantities of corn in
the neighborhood of Sevierville, and this was the inducement to send
most of our troops to that side of the French Broad River. To avoid
any appearance of retreat, it was ordered that we march from
Strawberry Plains to Dandridge, which was a flank movement to our
right, one day's march. There we should extemporize some sort of
ferry to cross the French Broad and seek camps in regions which
promised some supplies, but within supporting distance of our
several detachments. The men whose clothing was most lacking and who
were without shoes would remain in our present camp and be
temporarily attached to the post established to protect the bridge.
The cavalry, which had been near Mossy Creek (fourteen miles up the
Holston), was directed to move straight across the angle between the
two rivers, and cover the flank march of the infantry to Dandridge.
It was thought probable that the cavalry might subsist for a short
time in the neighborhood of Dandridge and in the valley of the
Nolachucky, the principal tributary of the French Broad from the
north; indeed, the time of crossing the larger river by the infantry
was not fixed, but would be determined by our good or bad fortune in
finding forage and bread-stuffs near Dandridge. [Footnote: Official
Records, vol. xxxii. pt. ii. pp. 82, 87, 99, 101.]

The 15th of January was the day fixed for the march. The weather was
not so cold as it had been, but was very raw and uncomfortable. At
the last moment General Foster found it necessary to have a
consultation with Parke and Granger; and Sheridan, whose division of
the Fourth Corps led off on the road, was directed to select
positions for the infantry of that corps and mine as we reached
Dandridge. He was also authorized to assign mills to the use of the
different commands so as to systematize our means of supply and
prevent disorder. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xxxii. pt. ii.
p. 102.] The march was nineteen miles to Dandridge, and our
positions were about a mile in front of the village, on the hills
covering it. Both the Fourth and the Ninth Corps had remained in
their camps at Blain's Crossroads up to this time, and the Ninth now
took my place at Strawberry Plains, covering Knoxville from that
direction. It had less than 4000 men present for duty. [Footnote:
_Id_., p. 292.] Our moving column consisted of Sheridan's and Wood's
divisions of the Fourth Corps and parts of three brigades from the
Twenty-third; less than 10,000 men in all. The ground was frozen,
and as we were moving over roads which had not been much travelled,
the way was comparatively smooth for our artillery and wagons. It
was not so much so for the infantry, and the little unevenness being
sharpened by frost, quickly cut through the men's old shoes. Those
who were barefoot were ordered to stay behind, but the shoes of
others were in so bad a state that there were places where I saw the
road marked with bloody tracks from the wounded feet of the
soldiers.

Reaching Dandridge a little in advance of my command, I reported to
Sheridan, and he showed me the line he had selected, on which we
were to occupy the left. Colonel Sterling, my inspector-general, was
assigned the duty of placing the brigades in position as they
arrived. The cavalry had preceded us, and we found them occupying
the town and picketing the roads toward Morristown and the elbow of
the Nolachucky River northeast of us, locally called the Bend o'
Chucky. A range of hills known as Bay's Mountain was the water-shed
between the valleys of the Holston and the French Broad, and we
expected the cavalry to cover the front on a line from Kimbrough's
Cross-roads near the mountain to the Bend o' Chucky. This line would
be nine or ten miles from Dandridge, and would communicate also with
Mott's brigade of my command, which had been left in its post at
Mossy Creek, on the Holston, under orders to fall back deliberately
to Strawberry Plains if attacked by superior forces. [Footnote:
Official Records, vol. xxxii. pt. ii. p. 99.] If these positions
could be held, the cavalry could not only collect the forage in the
Nolachucky valley as far up as their detachments could reach, but
would also threaten the left flank of Longstreet's position at
Morristown.

Those who only knew Sheridan after the war would hardly recognize
him in the thin and wiry little man I met at Dandridge. His hollow
cheeks made his cheekbones noticeably prominent, and his features
had a decided Milesian cast. His reputation at that time was that of
an impetuous and vehement fighter when engaged, rousing himself to a
belligerent wrath and fury that made his spirit contagious and
stimulated his troops to a like vigor. At other times he was
unpretentious and genial, and whilst regarded as a good division
commander was not thought of as specially fitted for large and
independent responsibilities. He was not considered cool enough for
the broader duties of a commander, and indeed had had rather bad
luck in the great battles of Stone's River and Chickamauga, where
the qualities called for were those which enable a perfectly
self-possessed officer to extricate his command from a perilous
position. He has told me himself that he was slow in learning to
have confidence in his own power to direct in such cases, and that
it was only after he had tested himself, step by step, that he came
to rely on his own judgment and will, as he did in the Shenandoah
valley and at Five Forks. It was his blazing impetuosity in action
that made Grant think of him as specially fitted for a cavalry
leader, and his growth into the able commander of an army was a
later development of his talents. He received me very cordially, and
in our trying wintry experience at Dandridge began a friendly
acquaintance which continued unbroken till his death.

General Thomas J. Wood was not with his division, and it was under
the command of General August Willich, whom I had seen drilling
Robert McCook's German regiment, the Ninth Ohio, as its adjutant, at
Camp Dennison in the spring of 1861. I had expected to find
Brigadier-General William B. Hazen in temporary command during
Wood's leave of absence, but when I went to his quarters was
surprised to find him in arrest. Hazen had been one of the first of
the officers of the regular army with whom I became acquainted at
the beginning of the war, and he had offered to accept a staff
position with me. I had a real regard for him, and naturally offered
my friendly services in his present predicament. It seemed that
Sheridan had called on him for a report as to the condition of
things in his front, and Hazen had taken advantage of some
peculiarity of the situation which he thought Sheridan did not
sufficiently understand, to make a report which was ironical and so
irritating that Sheridan's answer was to order him to keep his
quarters in arrest. Their quarrel, however, dated from the battle of
Missionary Ridge, where Sheridan accused Wood's division, and Hazen
in particular, with usurping the honors of being first on the crest
and capturing part of Bragg's artillery. Sheridan honestly thought
his division entitled to the honor, but the official evidence seems
to me to be against him. At any rate, it began a very pretty quarrel
which never was wholly made up, and which had many queer little
episodes, in war and in peace, on the Indian frontier and at
Washington, for many years thereafter. Hazen was an officer of real
ability, of brilliant courage and splendid personal presence. His
fault was that he was too keen in seeing flaws in other people's
performance of duty, and apt to dilate upon them in his official
reports when such officers were wholly independent of him. This made
him a good many enemies notwithstanding his noble qualities and his
genial kindliness to his friends. A military officer usually finds
it hard enough to submit gracefully to the criticisms of his
superiors, and naturally takes it ill if this prerogative is
exercised by those of equal grade without authority. Such a practice
puts into the official records matter which does not belong there,
and which, however honestly stated, may be very unjust, because all
the explanatory circumstances are not likely to be known to the
critic. At any rate, the person criticised is not amenable to that
tribunal, and this is enough in itself to cause a sense of injury.
[Footnote: See Review of General Hazen's Narrative of Military
Service, "The Nation," Nov. 5, 1885.] Sheridan took very kindly my
mediation in Hazen's behalf, and probably had never intended more
than a temporary arrest. After Granger came to the front and resumed
command of the corps, I heard no more of the trouble.

We had escorted a small train in which were some wagon-loads of
clothing and shoes for the cavalry, and the mounted corps remained
at Dandridge during the 15th of January, issuing these supplies. The
rear of our infantry column came up on the next day, so that we were
assembled and in position before evening. The cavalry moved out in
the afternoon of the 16th, part on the right toward the Nolachucky
River, and the left toward Kimbrough's Cross-roads on the Morristown
road. The right wing found the enemy's cavalry in their front about
five miles from town, but the left wing found Kimbrough's occupied
by Longstreet's infantry. His whole force, except Ransom's division,
had advanced upon information of the movement of our cavalry on the
14th. In doing this Longstreet had turned the position of the
brigade of infantry left at Mossy Creek, and Colonel Mott retired on
the 16th to Strawberry Plains in accordance with his orders. Toward
evening the cavalry on our right were driven back in a lively
skirmish, and those on the left were recalled to give them support.
The whole were united and repulsed the enemy's horsemen, taking
position for the night about a mile in front of our infantry camps.
On the 17th the enemy's infantry advanced, and reached the posts of
our cavalry in the afternoon. Longstreet now made a vigorous attack
with his troops of both arms, and gradually drove back our horsemen,
who resisted him with their carbines, fighting dismounted. Sheridan
supported the cavalry with some infantry and a lively skirmishing
combat continued for an hour or two till darkness came on. The
affair was something of a surprise to both parties. Longstreet had
evidently made his movement in the hope of giving our cavalry a
lesson which might check their enterprise and make them keep their
distance, and was astonished to come upon our infantry at Dandridge.
We were in motion to put our infantry on the south side of the
French Broad, and were equally surprised to find the enemy in force
on the same route.

General Parke and General Granger had ridden over from Strawberry
Plains and reached Dandridge in the afternoon. Hearing of the
presence of what was reported to be the whole of Longstreet's army,
and not liking to accept battle with superior forces with the river
at his back, Parke had caused an examination of the river to be
made, and learned that just below the town was a shallow, fordable
at an ordinary stage of water, and now about waist-deep for the men.
In the low physical condition of our troops and their lack of
clothing he very wisely thought it would not do to make them march
through the river, but devised a foot-bridge by putting army wagons
end to end and making a path over the boxes of the wagons. Sheridan
was ordered to detach a brigade immediately to make this bridge, and
it set to work at once. The plan was to march the infantry to the
south side of the river and afterward remove the wagons, covering
the operation by the cavalry who could then ford the stream, which
though very cold and running with ice was not impracticable for
horsemen.

About dusk, as the skirmishing in front ceased, Sheridan and myself,
with Sturgis, the commandant of the cavalry, were called to meet
Generals Parke and Granger at a house in the town to report the
condition of affairs in our front and to receive orders for
marching. The bridge had been completed, as was supposed, and the
brigade which had made it had been ordered across, when, on reaching
the land on the left bank, they found, to their amazement, that they
were upon an island with an equally deep and wide channel beyond!
This news had just been received when we assembled at headquarters.
Sheridan was greatly mortified at the blunder, but there was then no
help for it. [Footnote: Official Records, vol. xxxii. pt. i. p. 79.]
It was impracticable to complete the bridge before morning, and it
was doubtful if wagons enough could be got together. My own command
was on the extreme left of the line, partly covering the road back
to Strawberry Plains, and we had not been engaged. The fighting had
been in front of the centre and right. I could therefore throw no
light on the question of the enemy's force. The information from
other parts of the line and from prisoners left no doubt that
infantry had engaged in the attack late in the afternoon and that
Longstreet was present in force. There was therefore no dissent from
the conclusion that it would be unwise to accept a battle with the
river behind us, and orders were given to leave the position in the
night and retire to Strawberry Plains. The wagons and most of the
artillery were to follow the advance-guard, which was Sheridan's
division, my command to march next, and Willich's (Wood's) division
of the Fourth Corps to be the rear-guard. The cavalry were to march
on a road a little to the right, leading to New Market, and would
thus cover our flank. [Footnote: For the Dandridge expedition, see
Official Records, vol. xxxii. pt. i. pp. 79 _et seq_.]

Granger had been ailing for a day or two and had not been with the
troops. He was lying on a bed in the room where we met, and the rest
of us sat about the fireplace, a tallow candle being on a rude table
in the middle of the floor. Sturgis came in later than the others,
having had a longer ride. He was a handsome fellow, with full, round
features, sharp black eyes, and curly black hair and mustache. He
had been seated but a few minutes when he noticed a bottle of
whiskey on the table and a glass which had been placed there as camp
hospitality for any one that wanted it, but had apparently been
neglected. Glancing that way, Sturgis said, "If I had a little bit
of sugar, I believe I'd take a toddy." A colored boy produced a
sugar-bowl and the toddy was taken. The conversation ran on a few
moments, when, as if it were a wholly new suggestion, the same voice
repeated, "If I had a little bit of sugar, I believe I'd take a
toddy;" and again the attendant did the honors. Our orders were
received and we were about ready to go to our commands, when again,
with polite intonation and a most amusing unconsciousness of any
repetition, came the words, "If I had a little bit of sugar, I
believe I'd take a toddy." The incident was certainly a funny one in
itself, but I should not have cared to repeat it had not the
official records of Sturgis's defeat by Forrest in the Tishimingo
affair later in the year emphasized the mischief of lax habits as to
temperance. The judgment of his superiors and of those who knew him
well was made severer by the knowledge of his weakness in this
respect. Railway officers insist upon absolute sobriety in
locomotive engineers; but if there be one employment in which such
coolness of head is more absolutely essential than in another, I
believe it is in commanding troops in the field. [Footnote: See
Marbot's Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 242, for results of Wittgenstein's
reliance on an intemperate officer, Kulnieff, in the Russian
campaign of 1812.] Sturgis's military downfall was a severe lesson,
but he gave every evidence afterward of having learned it, and
"lived cleanly" through many years of service after the Civil War
was over.

The march back to Strawberry Plains began by starting the wagon
train to the rear as soon as it was dark. Sheridan's division was
drawn out soon afterward. My command was ordered to leave the line
at eight o'clock, and Willich's to follow when the road should be
clear as far as the first defensible ridge beyond the village where
a rear-guard could make a successful stand. The cavalry were to
maintain their position till morning and cover the movement. It was
about half-past eight when my column closed up upon the wagons ahead
of me, but as they had not yet climbed the first hill, we found
ourselves necessarily halted in the main street of the village.
General Willich had prudently placed a tent a little to the right of
the road where it leaves the town, and there he made his quarters
until the column should completely pass that point. He could thus
keep his division in their bivouac in support of the cavalry till he
knew the rest of the little army had cleared the place and could
secure some rest, whilst he was still in easy communication with
both the marching column and his own men. He reaped the advantage of
his forethought. As my command had to assist the wagons and the
artillery, no such means of bettering the situation was possible for
us. I had notified Willich that I would be in person at the extreme
rear of my command so that he could communicate with me most
promptly and obtain my support if he were seriously attacked. The
brigade in the lead was directed to give the wagons and cannon every
help in getting forward, and the column was ordered to keep well
closed up.

The day had been a mild one in comparison with the fortnight
preceding, and rain set in early in the evening. The surface of the
clayey roads soon became very slippery, then cut into deep ruts, and
the moisture was just enough to give the mud the consistency of
tenacious putty. The teams, half starved, were very weak, and it
seemed as if they would never mount the hills before them, which
were the southern end of the ridge of Bay's Mountain, separating the
Holston valley from the Nolachucky. Three or four teams had to be
united to drag up a single cannon or caisson, and the time as well
as the distance was thus trebled or quadrupled. In some instances
more than twenty horses were thus hitched to a single piece, besides
having infantrymen at the wheels as thick as they could cluster,
pushing and lifting. The column which was halted thus waiting for
the wagon trains and artillery to climb a hill, grew weary of
standing. The men would break ranks and sit down in the fence
corners, where they built little camp-fires, and, rainy as it was,
they fell asleep leaning against each other in these little
bivouacs. Then would come word from the front to close up, and the
regimental officers would give the command to fall in. The men would
rouse themselves, the column would march, perhaps less than a
hundred yards, when the road would be blocked again, the men would
again seek the fence corners and stir up the fires that had been
left by those who were now in advance. Thus in cold and wet and
weariness the night wore on, till when day broke about six o'clock
next morning we had put a distance of less than two miles between us
and the village, and Willich's division had barely reached the first
wooded ridge beyond the town.

During all the last hours of the night we were anxious lest we
should be attacked by the enemy, who by crowning the hills above the
road would have had us at great disadvantage. I had concerted with
General Willich a plan of action if we were assailed, but the enemy
took no advantage of our situation, and I have always believed that
as the meeting at Dandridge was a mutual surprise, by a similar
coincidence both parties were retiring at the same time. Our cavalry
moved off toward New Market at daybreak, but it was not till late in
the forenoon, when we had toiled on several miles further, that the
Confederate cavalry approached our infantry rear-guard and
accompanied its march for a time with some light skirmishing.

The weather grew colder during the day, and in the afternoon the
rain changed to moist driving snow. The sleepy, weary troops toiled
doggedly on; the wagons and the cannon were helped over the bad
places in the way, for we were determined not to abandon any, and
the enemy was not hurrying us. When night fell, on the 18th, my own
command and Willich's division were still three miles from
Strawberry Plains, though Sheridan's division and part of the wagon
train had reached that place and crossed the Holston. We halted the
men here and went into bivouac for the night. It had been a
wretchedly cheerless and uncomfortable march, but the increasing
cold and flying snow made the camp scarcely less inclement. The
officers were, as was frequently the case, worse off than the men,
for they could not carry their rations in haversacks, and the
separation from the wagons in such a desolate country meant a
prolonged fast. The delay caused by the rain and mud had been
unexpected, and the march we had hoped to make in the night had
taken more than twenty-four hours. During that time myself and staff
had not eaten a mouthful, and we had no expectation of seeing food
till we should get across the Holston next day and reach our
headquarters wagons. Better luck happened us, however. We found a
deserted and unfinished log cabin which had a roof and a
stick-and-clay chimney, though it had no floor or chinking. The snow
drove through between the logs, but the roof was over our heads and
we soon had a lively fire roaring in the chimney. Some bundles of
corn-stalks were found in a field near by, and of these we made a
bed on the ground in front of the fire, and began to think we might
forget our hunger in thankfulness for fire and shelter such as it
was. But still better was in store for us. One of our tired forage
trains had gone into park near us, and the teamsters offered to
share their supper with us. They had corn "pone," some salt pork,
and for a rarity some newly arrived coffee. We sat on the
corn-stalks around the fire with an iron camp-kettle in the midst
containing the black coffee which we dipped out with battered tin
cups, and we held in our hands pieces of the corn-pone and slices of
fried pork, congratulating each other on the unexpected luxury of
our supper. Hunger and fatigue were so good a sauce that it seemed
really a luxury, and we banished care with an ease which now seems
hardly credible. The supper ended, sleep was not long a-wooing,
though my rest was more broken than that of the others, for frequent
dispatches came from headquarters which I had to answer, and orders
had to be sent to the troops to continue the march on the morrow in
accordance with the directions which I had received. I had provided
myself in Cincinnati with a field dispatch book in form of a
manifold letter-writer which I myself carried in a sabretasch during
all the rest of the war. In this, by means of the carbon sheets and
agate-pointed stylus, a dispatch and its copy were written at once,
and a valuable record kept of every day's business. I could sit by
the bivouac fire and write upon my knee without troubling a weary
aide-de-camp to make a copy. I had in my saddle portmanteau also a
little pair of brass candlesticks screwing together in form of a
large watch-case, so that I could be provided with a light at the
root of a tree in the darkness, if it was necessary to send or
receive dispatches where there was neither shelter nor fire. These
were necessaries; for food we could take our chances.