MILITARY: Sabre Strokes of the Pennsylvania Dragoons in the War of 1861-1865 - Chapter 15
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________________________________________________
SABRE STROKES
of the
PENNSYLVANIA DRAGOONS
in the
WAR OF 1861-1865.
INTERSPERSED WITH PERSONAL REMINISCENCES
By T. F. DORNBLASER
CHAPTER XV.
KILPATRICK'S RAID, AND THE CAPTURE OF ATLANTA.
172 SABRE STROKES
Before Sherman began his flank movement on Atlanta, he attempted to break the
enemy's communications, and force Hood to come out of his entrenchments, by
concentrating a heavy force of cavalry on the Macon Railroad at Jonesboro and
Lovejoy Station.
Stoneman, with five thousand cavalry, including Garrard's division, was
ordered to pass around the left of Atlanta, and strike the railroad at
Lovejoy Station, at the same time that McCook's command of four thousand
cavalry should strike the road at that point from the right of Atlanta.
McCook crossed the Chattahoochee at Riverton, and pushed rapidly forward. At
Fayetteville he burned a train of four hundred wagons, and two railroad
trains; he killed eight hundred mules, and captured two hundred and fifty
prisoners. He reached the Macon road at the time appointed. He continued to
destroy the road until the enemy was strongly re-enforced. He could hear
nothing of Stoneman's whereabouts; and being surrounded by the enemy he
fought his way out, losing his prisoners and five hundred of his own men.
PENNSYLVANIA DRAGOONS. 173
Stoneman, on the left, proceeded to Covington with his own division, and sent
Garrard's division to Flat Rock, from which point Garrard was to return to
Sherman in the rear of Atlanta. At Flat Rock, Garrard engaged successfully
two divisions of the enemy's cavalry, and withdrew in good order.
Stoneman moved toward Macon on the east bank of the Ocmulgee, and disobeyed
Sherman's order to meet McCook at Lovejoy Station. His object was to release
two thousand Union prisoners at Macon, and then to proceed to Andersonville
and set free twenty thousand Union prisoners. Sherman gave him permission to
make this bold venture after forming a junction with McCook at Lovejoy. But
his ambition got the better of his judgment, and the result was a signal
failure. At Macon he could not cross the river, and after throwing a few
shells into the town, he endeavored to return to the main army. He had not
gone far, when he found himself confronted by the enemy. With seven hundred
of his men he surrendered to an inferior officer, leaving the rest of his
command to cut their way back to Sherman's army.
After Sherman had moved his army by the right flank, along the West Point
railroad, he selected Kilpatrick to make another attempt to destroy the Macon
road.
Sherman admired the dashing spirit and Yankee self-confidence of this young
cavalry officer. He
174 SABRE STROKES.
gave him five thousand of the best mounted troops in the army, and ordered
him to make a circuit around Atlanta. For this purpose, Minty's and Long's
brigades were attached to Kilpatrick's division.
Before leaving camp near Sandtown, Kilpatrick issued an order, requiring
every man to stay behind who was not willing to go through with him or die in
the attempt.
Unlike Gideon's army, there were very few that embraced the opportunity to
stay with the pack-mules.
On the morning of the 18th of August, Kilpatrick's command dashed out from
Sandtown to the West Point road at Fairburn Station. The railroad was torn up
for several miles. The head of the column moved rapidly toward Jonesboro' on
the Macon road. Minty's brigade brought up the rear on the first day. Just
beyond Fairburn Station, while the "Seventh" was marching in column of
fours, on a road leading through a dense wood, the enemy's artillery opened
on us with grape and cannister shot, from a hill to the left of the column.
The suddenness of the attack excited the horses, the column was thrown into
temporary confusion, several ambulances were overturned by the teams wildly
dashing into the timber. Infuriated horses were plunging through the ranks
entirely beyond the control of their riders. After clearing the
PENNSYLVANIA DRAGOONS. 175
woods, the "Seventh" formed line in an open field and prepared to make a
sabre charge on the battery, but the enemy speedily withdrew in the direction
of Atlanta.
A courier was sent to inquire of Kilpatrick, if we should pursue the enemy;
to which he replied, "Never mind the Johnnies in the rear, there are plenty
of them in front. Come on!"
Among those wounded was the bugler of our regiment, a fair curly-haired boy.
He was mortally wounded in the abdomen, but he remained in the saddle until
the column halted in the open field.
The pain became so severe that he could no longer sit on his horse. He
requested us to place him in an ambulance. The officer in charge refused to
receive him, as he could live but a short time. They had room only for such
of the wounded who would likely recover. With a look of sadness, he said,
"Then will you leave me to die in the hands of the enemy?"
Three of us carried him to a little white church by the roadside, and made a
bed for him on the outside, as comfortable as we could. The thought that he
must die in the hands of his foes was terrible to him. He had exhibited great
courage in battle. A number of times we saw him at the head of his regiment in
the "bloody charge." He was not afraid to face death, but to die in the hands
of his enemies was more than he could well endure.
176 SABRE STROKES.
He was just such a boy as would be the idol of a fond mother. He longed for
his mother. "Oh! if mother knew this, how soon she would come to me." His
last words to us, were, "Please write to my mother, and tell her all about
it."
A score of years have passed since this event occurred, but the scene at the
little church comes back to my memory as a picture of indescribable sadness
and pity.
The enemy was pressing our rear-guard, and we were ordered to hurry forward.
The head of Kilpatrick's column had reached Flint river, where a sharp fight
was going on with Ross's cavalry. The enemy was soon dislodged, and the
command crossed the river and moved rapidly into Jonesboro, on the Macon
road, directly in rear of Hood's army. We rode into the station after sunset.
The depot and several other large buildings were on fire. We did not go into
camp - we only halted a few hours. Orders were given to leave the saddles on
the horses. Detachments were sent along the railroad to tear up the track.
The enemy's pickets kept up a constant skirmish with our outposts. Kilpatrick
ordered the "band" to play, and the work of destruction to go on vigorously in
the light of the burning buildings.
Soon after midnight we were ordered to mount, and to move out to the left of
the railroad, and by a circuitous route strike the road again at Love-
PENNSYLVANIA DRAGOONS. 177
joy Station, nine miles farther south. The "Seventh" was ordered to the
front. At daybreak we began to skirmish with the pickets of Jackson's
cavalry. Kilpatrick rode with us on the skirmish line. He was full of
confidence. He felt sure he could scatter the force in front of him, and
completely destroy the long trestle-work on the Macon road near Lovejoy. When
we came to the heavy timber in front of the station, Kilpatrick ordered the
first battalion of our regiment to dismount, and drive back the enemy's
pickets. He said, there were only forty rebs in the woods, and we could
easily rout them. About seventy-five men out of the battalion stood in line,
dismounted, leaving every fourth man to hold the horses.
The line moved into the woods with carbines advanced. The enemy gave us one
volley, and then retreated in disorder. Our men raised the yell and rushed
forward on the double-quick, firing and cheering as they advanced.
The wildest enthusiasm prevailed among our men, and all along the line was
heard the shout, "Forward to the railroad." But suddenly a brigade of rebel
infantry rose up behind a line of breastworks in front of the railroad, and
only fifty yards-from us. They poured volley after volley of musketry into
our ranks, and also opened on us with several pieces of artillery. Our
comrades were falling rapidly on right and left. The first volley
178 SABRE STROKES.
of the enemy killed four brave men out of Captain Schaeffer's company.
Sergeant Foster, whose manly form was seen in the front of many a
sabre-charge, and whose stentorian shout was heard a moment before, fell dead
on his face; David McDonald, a gallant soldier, dropped like one shot in the
heart; Emery Else, a Christian young man, whose voice was frequently heard in
our prayer-circle, was shot dead with his face to the foe; George Caldwell,
the singer of the Company, whose cheerful songs and ringing laughter were
heard round many a camp-fire, was mortally wounded, the ball passing from
cheek to cheek, and severing the tongue far back in the mouth.
Captain Taylor, of Company "C," and Lieut. C. C. Hermans, a faithful officer
and noble Christian gentleman, were among the killed.
The enemy did not shoot to wound, but to kill. Only a few of our company were
wounded.
Gladfelter was severely wounded in the leg, and several others slightly.
During the heaviest firing of the enemy, the writer was struck on the instep
of the left foot by a spent bullet; the ball penetrated the boot and the
stocking, bruising the muscles and skinning the ankle, and lodged in the heel
of boot No. Ten. He was scared considerably, at first, until he found that his
foot was still serviceable. Sergeant Hayes, who stood at my side, urged me to
go to the rear
PENNSYLVANIA DRAGOONS. 179
and find an ambulance; that we must all get out of this place very soon, or
we would all be killed or captured. His advice was very wholesome indeed, and
I felt very much inclined to act upon it, but it seemed to me cowardly to
desert my steadfast friend.
The only man I saw, still holding that part of the line, was Sergeant Hayes,
with his dead comrades around him. At that moment I saw the enemy advancing
on the right, aiming to cut off our retreat. The writer needed no further
advice; he turned on his heel and made a bee-line for Kilpatrick's cavalry.
The first man he met was Captain Schaeffer, sitting at the open bars leading
into the field where Kilpatrick had massed his cavalry. The Captain was
leaning forward with his head between his hands, and looking up in tears,
inquired, "Where are Hayes, and Foster, and the rest of the boys?"
"They are killed or captured," was the only answer that could be given.
When Kilpatrick discovered, contrary to his expectations, that our battalion
was confronted by a large force of infantry, he withdrew his command to the
left, and made preparations to break through Jackson's division of cavalry,
which was aiming to cut off his retreat. Kilpatrick was now almost surrounded
by the enemy, and if I mistake not, a flag of truce was sent in, demanding his
surrender. A brigade of infantry was menacing his rear, and in
180 SABRE STROKES.
his front was drawn up a division of cavalry, and a battery of artillery.
Minty's brigade was set in order quickly for a sabre-charge. The Fourth
regulars stood in column of fours on the McDonough road in front of Jackson's
artillery, the Fourth Michigan formed column on the left of the road, and the
"Seventh" on the right of the road.
These assaulting columns were supported by Wilder's brigade of mounted
infantry. The signal for the charge was given, by firing a cannon.
The sabres were unsheathed, and the three columns dashed forward across the
open field, leveling fences, leaping ditches, charging through the ranks of
the bewildered Johnnies, too badly frightened to do any effective shooting,
and the Yankees too much in a hurry to take dismounted prisoners. A few of
the weaker horses were unable to leap the ditches, and falling into these
places, the riders were compelled to abandon them and run.
Henry Yearick, a member of company "E," lost his horse and his hat in a
ditch; but holding on to his carbine, he mounted one of our caissons, and
came out bare-headed and a little shaken up, but the same night he reported
to his commander for duty. Lewis Catherman, another comrade, had his horse
shot, and rolling into a fence-corner, a "reb" on the other side of the fence
said, he should just lie still and he would not get hurt. But Lewis
PENNSYLVANIA DRAGOONS. 181
watched his chance, and seeing a riderless horse near by, he mounted and rode
away in triumph.
In the beginning of the charge the writer had several feeds of corn on his
saddle, but seeing the breakers ahead, he emptied the feed, and lightened the
ship as much as possible.
Kilpatrick's command simply rode over the confederate cavalry. A battery of
four guns was captured, and a large number of prisoners were taken, but only
one gun and seventy prisoners were brought back to Atlanta. The rest of the
guns were spiked, and several hundred prisoners were abandoned in the hurry
to get back into safe quarters.
The "Seventh," not having so formidable a force in its immediate front, was
the first regiment to break through the enemy's lines; scattering Ross's
brigade of Confederate cavalry through the woods on the right, and then
striking the road in rear of the battery. At this point, the writer saw
Captain McIntyre, commanding the Fourth Regulars, leading his regiment
against the battery. His white horse struck an artillery carriage in the
road, throwing horse and rider against the fence, behind which a number of
rebel horsemen were sitting in their saddles, with revolvers in hand, but too
badly frightened to do any shooting.
The Captain called for some one to catch his horse, which having regained his
feet, shot like an arrow after the flying fugitives. The writer's old
182 SABRE STROKES.
plug was distanced at the first quarter-pole, and was passed by the Captain's
Orderly, who soon hauled in the fiery charger, and delivered him, panting and
chafing, to his master.
In the road we met a number of wagons and ambulances belonging to the enemy.
The boys took the hatchets from their saddle-pockets, and cut the spokes,
letting the sick and wounded in the ambulances remain undisturbed. The mules
were unhitched and taken with us. While Kilpatrick's column was moving
northward on the McDonough road, at this break-neck speed, the thunder and
lightning was terrific, the rain was falling in torrents, the lurid clouds
flashed and flamed with the wrath of ten thousand furies.
Nearly one-half of the boys had lost their hats in the charge, and the
drenching rain beating on their bare heads, made them look very much like so
many drowned "cav-al-iers."
The enemy pressed close upon the heels of the rear-guard, which responsible
position the "Seventh" was called upon to occupy with the rest of Minty's
brigade. All night long, Kilpatrick's column moved northward on the trot. A
few hours before day on the Twentieth, we halted on the south bank of Cotton
river. The recent rains had swollen the stream, so as to make it too
dangerous to cross in the night. At day-break, we filed through the river.
For the space of one rod near the opposite bank, the horses
PENNSYLVANIA DRAGOONS. 183
were compelled to swim through a swift current. Kilpatrick stood at the edge
of the water on the farther side, and encouraged his men to keep upstream.
When he saw a soldier dismounted, he ordered him to unhorse the first negro
he came to, and mount. He said he needed his soldiers worse than he did the
negroes.
His whole command crossed in safety, except one ambulance, which was swept
down by the current, drowning the horses, but the men were saved.
On the north bank of the river we stopped to feed, and to air our
saddle-blankets. It was the first time we had unsaddled our horses since we
left Sandtown. The enemy's cavalry followed us to the river, but did not
attempt to cross. Rumors were afloat that a large force was concentrating in
our front to intercept our retreat. We moved rapidly northward by way of Flat
Shoals and Decatur, and without any serious interruption, arrived in the rear
of Atlanta, on the night of the 21st. During this raid we were three nights
and three days in the saddle, without one hour's solid sleep, fighting the
enemy almost constantly. We lost four commissioned officers and fifty-eight
enlisted men, nearly all of which belonged to the "Old Seventh."
Those taken prisoners out of Captain Schaeffer's company, were Sergeants
Hayes and Metzger. The writer missed his "old chum," the company quar-
184 SABRE STROKES.
termaster. The first reliable information we had from our missing comrades,
was from a letter written by Sergeant Hayes in the prison-pen at
Andersonville. The story of prison life, which we gathered from their letters
and conversation, is full of interest and pathos.
A few moments after we left Sergeant Hayes standing among his fallen
comrades, he was surrounded by a score of bristling bayonets ready to drink
his heart's blood if he did not instantly surrender.
He was conducted to the rear, through the woods, and on either side he was
greeted with curses from the wounded Johnnies, who said, "Shoot the Yankee
son of a gun." He expected the threat to be carried into effect every minute,
but the officer of the guard kindly protected him. He was permitted to speak a
word to George Caldwell, who had also been carried to the rear. Poor George
was too badly wounded in the mouth to make reply, but he realized the solemn
fact that he must die in a very short time from the loss of blood. The other
three comrades, Foster, Else, and McDonald, were already dead.
Hayes, Metzger, and the rest of the able-bodied prisoners, were hurried off
to Andersonville. On the way, they had ample opportunity to exchange hats and
coats, and pants and boots, with the Johnnies. It was an established rule,
that the
PENNSYLVANIA DRAGOONS. 185
Yanks must trade with the man who had the shabbiest and the raggedest and the
filthiest suit in the crowd. When they reached the prison gates, they looked
more like street-beggars than Union soldiers. At the entrance of the stockade
they were again searched from head to foot.
A brace of insolent officers were appointed by Captain Wirz to perform this
contemptible work of systematic robbery. The prisoners were partially
stripped and thoroughly examined, under the false pretense that they were
carrying concealed weapons.
First of all, their pockets were rifled, and if they had any greenbacks left,
these officers were sure to get away with them, as greenbacks were considered
a very dangerous weapon in the hands of a Union prisoner.
They were stripped of pocket-knives, combs, diaries, photographs, Bibles, and
Testaments. Sergeant Hayes, politely requested the officer to let him retain
his Bible, to which the officer replied, "You may keep it, as we have no use
for it anyway."
The officers at Andersonville had a special grudge against cavalry raiders,
and this may account for the uncommonly rough treatment these prisoners received.
It was in the latter part of the fatal month of August, when these brave men,
clad in Confederate rags, entered the gates of this modern Golgotha.
186 SABRE STROKES.
A scene of indescribable wretchedness and woe greeted them on every hand.
Strong men lost heart, and soon withered into melancholy skeletons that
disappeared like specters in the grim shadow of death; while other men,
physically weak but blessed with iron nerve, grit their teeth, and resolved
"to fight it out on that line if it should take all summer" - they determined
to live through it for spite, and some of those very men are living to-day.
As was customary, the prisoners were divided into companies of ninety men
each, and a sergeant was placed over each company. Sergeant Hayes was
appointed to take charge of the late recruits. Each sergeant was allowed an
extra ration per day, that he might have sufficient strength, I presume, to
quell insubordination among his men.
But my friend Hayes did not appropriate his extra ration to his own use, as I
have been reliably informed by his fellow prisoners that he gave it to some
poor fellows who were much nearer the verge of starvation. That was just like
"Bill," and an all-seeing Providence was not unmindful of his kindness. A few
days after entering the prison, he formed the acquaintance of a mutual
friend, in the person of William Overman of the Third Ohio cavalry. This
intelligent soldier was my chum, during the nine months we served on General
Crook's escort. He dressed the pork on Lookout
PENNSYLVANIA DRAGOONS. 187
Mountain, while the writer washed the sweet potatoes. During the Atlanta
campaign he served as a scout to General Thomas. When he was captured in the
vicinity of Atlanta, he had over one hundred dollars of greenbacks concealed
in the seams of his under-garments. He wisely left a few dollars in his
purse, which he reluctantly delivered to his captors, and by earnestly
pleading for that little, he eluded their further search. He passed through
the gates of Andersonville with one hundred dollars. He was truly a
Vanderbilt among his fellows.
Our mutual friends met on the burning sand within the stockade.
Overman revealed the secret, that he had some money, that he proposed to make
his friend Hayes and himself comfortable, and resolved to expend the rest for
the good of the community. He succeeded in bribing the guards to deliver him
some sweet-potatoes, and a sufficient quantity of muslin to put up a tent for
two. Of course every article was purchased at fabulous prices.
In order to benefit the community, Overman secured a large pail filled with
corn-meal; he poured water on it, and let it stand in the hot sun until it
was well soured. From this preparation he manufactured a sour beer, which the
prisoners eagerly craved, and which was as good as any medicine to arrest the
scurvy which was becoming alarmingly
188 SABRE STROKES.
prevalent. We are free to say, that if ever a beer-stand proved a blessing to
mankind, it was Overman's beer-barrel in Andersonville prison.
The inhumanity of Captain Wirz, and his fiendish cruelty toward the sick,
stirred the sympathies of Sergeant Hayes. He promptly offered his services as
a nurse in the prison hospital. In this capacity he served until he was
exchanged in the latter part of November.
He was sent to Charleston with a train of sick and helpless comrades. Here
they were transferred to a U. S. steamer headed for Baltimore.
Sergeant Hayes picked up his emaciated comrades, one by one, and carried them
on board. One poor fellow, with sunken eyes glistening with tears, looked up
into the face of his friend, as he sank into his soft bunk, and said - "Bill,
if you should die now, you would go straight to heaven."
Later in the fall, Overman was removed to Raleigh. While stopping in the
jail-yard, he heard a rap and a familiar voice from the upper window of the
stone prison. He looked up and saw a slip of paper drop from an unseen hand
behind the iron grating. He picked up the paper and read the following
message - "Dear Overman, send me something to eat, if possible. I am very
hungry. I am under sentence of death, and expect to be executed any day. Your
friend, Corporal Pike."
This Corporal Pike I knew in sixty-three and
PENNSYLVANIA DRAGOONS. 189
sixty-four as Chief of Scouts to General Thomas. He was captured and
convicted as a spy, and would have met a sad fate, had not Sherman's advance
into North Carolina changed the programme. Pike was hastily removed to
Salisbury by rail, and leaping from the train while in rapid motion, he made
good his escape, and lived to write a thrilling narrative of his wonderful
adventures.
Bill Overman also survived the horrors of prison-life, and is looming up
to-day as a prominent politician in the state of Ohio.
Atlanta has fallen! The battle of Jonesboro has been fought. On the night of
September first, we heard terrific explosions in the direction of Atlanta. On
the morning of September second, Minty's brigade rode into the city, followed
by the Twentieth corps under General Slocum.
Our advance exchanged a few shots with the rear-guard of Hood's army, and
succeeded in capturing one hundred of Ferguson's cavalry.
We encamped on the ground near the depot, where John Morgan, some months
before, entertained an audience of ten thousand Confederates by narrating his
wonderful exploits in Ohio, and by his boastful prophecies of future conquests.