PERSONAL MEMOIRS OF  U. S. GRANT

by Ulysses S. Grant

PREFACE.

“Man proposes and God disposes.” There are but few important
events in the affairs of men brought about by their own choice.

Although frequently urged by friends to write my memoirs I had
determined never to do so, nor to write anything for publication.
At the age of nearly sixty-two I received an injury from a fall,
which confined me closely to the house while it did not apparently
affect my general health. This made study a pleasant pastime.
Shortly after, the rascality of a business partner developed itself
by the announcement of a failure. This was followed soon after by
universal depression of all securities, which seemed to threaten
the extinction of a good part of the income still retained, and for
which I am indebted to the kindly act of friends. At this juncture
the editor of the Century Magazine asked me to write a few articles
for him. I consented for the money it gave me; for at that moment I
was living upon borrowed money. The work I found congenial, and I
determined to continue it. The event is an important one for me,
for good or evil; I hope for the former.

In preparing these volumes for the public, I have entered upon
the task with the sincere desire to avoid doing injustice to any
one, whether on the National or Confederate side, other than the
unavoidable injustice of not making mention often where special
mention is due. There must be many errors of omission in this work,
because the subject is too large to be treated of in two volumes in
such way as to do justice to all the officers and men engaged.
There were thousands of instances, during the rebellion, of
individual, company, regimental and brigade deeds of heroism which
deserve special mention and are not here alluded to. The troops
engaged in them will have to look to the detailed reports of their
individual commanders for the full history of those deeds.

The first volume, as well as a portion of the second, was
written before I had reason to suppose I was in a critical
condition of health. Later I was reduced almost to the point of
death, and it became impossible for me to attend to anything for
weeks. I have, however, somewhat regained my strength, and am able,
often, to devote as many hours a day as a person should devote to
such work. I would have more hope of satisfying the expectation of
the public if I could have allowed myself more time. I have used my
best efforts, with the aid of my eldest son, F. D. Grant, assisted
by his brothers, to verify from the records every statement of fact
given. The comments are my own, and show how I saw the matters
treated of whether others saw them in the same light or not.

With these remarks I present these volumes to the public, asking
no favor but hoping they will meet the approval of the reader.

U. S. GRANT.

MOUNT MACGREGOR, NEW YORK, July 1, 1885.

CONTENTS

VOLUME I.

CHAPTER I.
ANCESTRY—BIRTH—BOYHOOD.

CHAPTER II. WEST POINT—GRADUATION.

CHAPTER III. ARMY LIFE—CAUSES OF THE
MEXICAN WAR—CAMP SALUBRITY.

CHAPTER IV. CORPUS CHRISTI—MEXICAN
SMUGGLING—SPANISH RULE IN MEXICO—SUPPLYING
TRANSPORTATION.

CHAPTER V. TRIP TO AUSTIN—PROMOTION TO
FULL SECOND-LIEUTENANT—ARMY OF OCCUPATION.

CHAPTER VI. ADVANCE OF THE
ARMY—CROSSING THE COLORADO—THE RIO GRANDE.

CHAPTER VII. THE MEXICAN WAR—THE BATTLE
OF PALO ALTO—THE BATTLE OF RESACA DE LA PALMA—ARMY OF
INVASION—GENERAL TAYLOR—MOVEMENT ON CAMARGO.

CHAPTER VIII. ADVANCE ON MONTEREY—THE
BLACK FORT—THE BATTLE OF MONTEREY—SURRENDER OF THE
CITY.

CHAPTER IX. POLITICAL INTRIGUE—BUENA
VISTA—MOVEMENT AGAINST VERA CRUZ—SIEGE AND CAPTURE OF
VERA CRUZ.

CHAPTER X. MARCH TO JALAPA—BATTLE OF
CERRO GORDO—PEROTE—PUEBLA—SCOTT AND TAYLOR.

CHAPTER XI. ADVANCE ON THE CITY OF
MEXICO—BATTLE OF CONTRERAS—ASSAULT AT
CHURUBUSCO—NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE—BATTLE OF MOLINO DEL
REY—STORMING OF CHAPULTEPEC—SAN COSME—EVACUATION
OF THE CITY—HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS.

CHAPTER XII. PROMOTION TO FIRST
LIEUTENANT—CAPTURE OF THE CITY OF MEXICO—THE
ARMY—MEXICAN SOLDIERS—PEACE NEGOTIATIONS.

CHAPTER XIII. TREATY OF PEACE—MEXICAN
BULL FIGHTS—REGIMENTAL QUARTERMASTER—TRIP TO
POPOCATAPETL—TRIP TO THE CAVES OF MEXICO.

CHAPTER XIV. RETURN OF THE
ARMY—MARRIAGE—ORDERED TO THE PACIFIC
COAST—CROSSING THE ISTHMUS—ARRIVAL AT SAN
FRANCISCO.

CHAPTER XV. SAN FRANCISCO—EARLY
CALIFORNIA EXPERIENCES—LIFE ON THE PACIFIC
COAST—PROMOTED CAPTAIN—FLUSH TIMES IN CALIFORNIA.

CHAPTER XVI. RESIGNATION—PRIVATE
LIFE—LIFE AT GALENA—THE COMING CRISIS.

CHAPTER XVII. OUTBREAK OF THE
REBELLION—PRESIDING AT A UNION MEETING—MUSTERING
OFFICER OF STATE TROOPS—LYON AT CAMP JACKSON—SERVICES
TENDERED TO THE GOVERNMENT.

CHAPTER XVIII. APPOINTED COLONEL OF THE 21ST
ILLINOIS—PERSONNEL OF THE REGIMENT—GENERAL
LOGAN—MARCH TO MISSOURI—MOVEMENT AGAINST HARRIS AT
FLORIDA, MO.—GENERAL POPE IN COMMAND—STATIONED AT
MEXICO, MO.

CHAPTER XIX. COMMISSIONED
BRIGADIER-GENERAL—COMMAND AT IRONTON, MO.—JEFFERSON
CITY—CAPE GIRARDEAU—GENERAL PRENTISS—SEIZURE OF
PADUCAH—HEADQUARTERS AT CAIRO.

CHAPTER XX. GENERAL FREMONT IN
COMMAND—MOVEMENT AGAINST BELMONT—BATTLE OF
BELMONT—A NARROW ESCAPE—AFTER THE BATTLE.

CHAPTER XXI. GENERAL HALLECK IN
COMMAND—COMMANDING THE DISTRICT OF CAIRO—MOVEMENT ON
FORT HENRY—CAPTURE OF FORT HENRY.

CHAPTER XXII. INVESTMENT OF FORT
DONELSON—THE NAVAL OPERATIONS—ATTACK OF THE
ENEMY—ASSAULTING THE WORKS—SURRENDER OF THE FORT.

CHAPTER XXIII. PROMOTED MAJOR-GENERAL OF
VOLUNTEERS—UNOCCUPIED TERRITORY—ADVANCE UPON
NASHVILLE—SITUATION OF THE TROOPS—CONFEDERATE
RETREAT—RELIEVED OF THE COMMAND—RESTORED TO THE
COMMAND—GENERAL SMITH.

CHAPTER XXIV. THE ARMY AT PITTSBURG
LANDING—INJURED BY A FALL—THE CONFEDERATE ATTACK AT
SHILOH—THE FIRST DAY’S FIGHT AT SHILOH—GENERAL
SHERMAN—CONDITION OF THE ARMY—CLOSE OF THE FIRST DAY’S
FIGHT—THE SECOND DAY’S FIGHT—RETREAT AND DEFEAT OF THE
CONFEDERATES.

CHAPTER XXV. STRUCK BY A
BULLET—PRECIPITATE RETREAT OF THE
CONFEDERATES—INTRENCHMENTS AT SHILOH—GENERAL
BUELL—GENERAL JOHNSTON—REMARKS ON SHILOH.

CHAPTER XXVI. HALLECK ASSUMES COMMAND IN THE
FIELD—THE ADVANCE UPON CORINTH—OCCUPATION OF
CORINTH—THE ARMY SEPARATED.

CHAPTER XXVII. HEADQUARTERS MOVED TO
MEMPHIS—ON THE ROAD TO MEMPHIS—ESCAPING
JACKSON—COMPLAINTS AND REQUESTS—HALLECK APPOINTED
COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF—RETURN TO CORINTH—MOVEMENTS OF
BRAGG—SURRENDER OF CLARKSVILLE—THE ADVANCE UPON
CHATTANOOGA—SHERIDAN COLONEL OF A MICHIGAN REGIMENT.

CHAPTER XXVIII. ADVANCE OF VAN DORN AND
PRICE—PRICE ENTERS IUKA—BATTLE OF IUKA.

CHAPTER XXIX. VAN DORN’S
MOVEMENTS—BATTLE OF CORINTH—COMMAND OF THE DEPARTMENT
OF THE TENNESSEE.

CHAPTER XXX. THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST
VICKSBURG—EMPLOYING THE FREEDMEN—OCCUPATION OF HOLLY
SPRINGS—SHERMAN ORDERED TO MEMPHIS—SHERMAN’S MOVEMENTS
DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI—VAN DORN CAPTURES HOLLY
SPRINGS—COLLECTING FORAGE AND FOOD.

CHAPTER XXXI. HEADQUARTERS MOVED TO HOLLY
SPRINGS—GENERAL MCCLERNAND IN COMMAND—ASSUMING COMMAND
AT YOUNG’S POINT—OPERATIONS ABOVE
VICKSBURG—FORTIFICATIONS ABOUT VICKSBURG—THE
CANAL—LAKE PROVIDENCE—OPERATIONS AT YAZOO PASS.

CHAPTER XXXII. THE BAYOUS WEST OF THE
MISSISSIPPI—CRITICISMS OF THE NORTHERN PRESS—RUNNING
THE BATTERIES—LOSS OF THE INDIANOLA—DISPOSITION OF THE
TROOPS.

CHAPTER XXXIII. ATTACK ON GRAND
GULF—OPERATIONS BELOW VICKSBURG.

CHAPTER XXXIV. CAPTURE OF PORT
GIBSON—GRIERSON’S RAID—OCCUPATION OF GRAND
GULF—MOVEMENT UP THE BIG BLACK—BATTLE OF RAYMOND.

CHAPTER XXXV. MOVEMENT AGAINST
JACKSON—FALL OF JACKSON—INTERCEPTING THE
ENEMY—BATTLE OF CHAMPION’S HILL.

CHAPTER XXXVI. BATTLE OF BLACK RIVER
BRIDGE—CROSSING THE BIG BLACK—INVESTMENT OF
VICKSBURG—ASSAULTING THE WORKS.

CHAPTER XXXVII. SIEGE OF VICKSBURG.

CHAPTER XXXVIII. JOHNSTON’S
MOVEMENTS—FORTIFICATIONS AT HAINES’S BLUFF—EXPLOSION OF
THE MINE—EXPLOSION OF THE SECOND MINE—PREPARING FOR THE
ASSAULT—THE FLAG OF TRUCE—MEETING WITH
PEMBERTON—NEGOTIATIONS FOR SURRENDER—ACCEPTING THE
TERMS—SURRENDER OF VICKSBURG.

CHAPTER XXXIX. RETROSPECT OF THE
CAMPAIGN—SHERMAN’S MOVEMENTS—PROPOSED MOVEMENT UPON
MOBILE—A PAINFUL ACCIDENT—ORDERED TO REPORT AT
CAIRO.

VOLUME II.

CHAPTER XL. FIRST MEETING WITH SECRETARY
STANTON—GENERAL ROSECRANS—COMMANDING MILITARY DIVISION
OF MISSISSIPPI—ANDREW JOHNSON’S ADDRESS—ARRIVAL AT
CHATTANOOGA.

CHAPTER XLI. ASSUMING THE COMMAND AT
CHATTANOOGA—OPENING A LINE OF SUPPLIES—BATTLE OF
WAUHATCHIE—ON THE PICKET LINE.

CHAPTER XLII. CONDITION OF THE
ARMY—REBUILDING THE RAILROAD—GENERAL BURNSIDE’S
SITUATION—ORDERS FOR BATTLE—PLANS FOR THE
ATTACK—HOOKER’S POSITION—SHERMAN’S MOVEMENTS.

CHAPTER XLIII. PREPARATIONS FOR
BATTLE—THOMAS CARRIES THE FIRST LINE OF THE
ENEMY—SHERMAN CARRIES MISSIONARY RIDGE—BATTLE OF
LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN—GENERAL HOOKER’S FIGHT.

CHAPTER XLIV. BATTLE OF CHATTANOOGA—A
GALLANT CHARGE—COMPLETE ROUT OF THE ENEMY—PURSUIT OF
THE CONFEDERATES—GENERAL BRAGG—REMARKS ON
CHATTANOOGA.

CHAPTER XLV. THE RELIEF OF
KNOXVILLE—HEADQUARTERS MOVED TO NASHVILLE—VISITING
KNOXVILLE—CIPHER DISPATCHES—WITHHOLDING ORDERS.

CHAPTER XLVI. OPERATIONS IN
MISSISSIPPI—LONGSTREET IN EAST TENNESSEE—COMMISSIONED
LIEUTENANT-GENERAL—COMMANDING THE ARMIES OF THE UNITED
STATES—FIRST INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT LINCOLN.

CHAPTER XLVII. THE MILITARY
SITUATION—PLANS FOR THE CAMPAIGN—SHERIDAN ASSIGNED TO
COMMAND OF THE CAVALRY—FLANK MOVEMENTS—FORREST AT FORT
PILLOW—GENERAL BANKS’S EXPEDITION—COLONEL
MOSBY—AN INCIDENT OF THE WILDERNESS CAMPAIGN.

CHAPTER XLVIII. COMMENCEMENT OF THE GRAND
CAMPAIGN—GENERAL BUTLER’S POSITION—SHERIDAN’S FIRST
RAID.

CHAPTER XLIX. SHERMAN S CAMPAIGN IN
GEORGIA—SIEGE OF ATLANTA—DEATH OF GENERAL
MCPHERSON—ATTEMPT TO CAPTURE ANDERSONVILLE—CAPTURE OF
ATLANTA.

CHAPTER L. GRAND MOVEMENT OF THE ARMY OF THE
POTOMAC—CROSSING THE RAPIDAN—ENTERING THE
WILDERNESS—BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS.

CHAPTER LI. AFTER THE BATTLE—TELEGRAPH
AND SIGNAL SERVICE—MOVEMENT BY THE LEFT FLANK.

CHAPTER LII. BATTLE OF
SPOTTSYLVANIA—HANCOCK’S POSITION—ASSAULT OF WARREN’S
AND WRIGHT’S CORPS—UPTON PROMOTED ON THE FIELD—GOOD
NEWS FROM BUTLER AND SHERIDAN.

CHAPTER LIII. HANCOCK’S ASSAULT—LOSSES
OF THE CONFEDERATES—PROMOTIONS RECOMMENDED—DISCOMFITURE
OF THE ENEMY—EWELL’S ATTACK—REDUCING THE ARTILLERY.

CHAPTER LIV. MOVEMENT BY THE LEFT
FLANK—BATTLE OF NORTH ANNA—AN INCIDENT OF THE
MARCH—MOVING ON RICHMOND—SOUTH OF THE
PAMUNKEY—POSITION OF THE NATIONAL ARMY.

CHAPTER LV. ADVANCE ON COLD HARBOR—AN
ANECDOTE OF THE WAR—BATTLE OF COLD
HARBOR—CORRESPONDENCE WITH LEE RETROSPECTIVE.

CHAPTER LVI. LEFT FLANK MOVEMENT ACROSS THE
CHICKAHOMINY AND JAMES—GENERAL LEE—VISIT TO
BUTLER—THE MOVEMENT ON PETERSBURG—THE INVESTMENT OF
PETERSBURG.

CHAPTER LVII. RAID ON THE VIRGINIA CENTRAL
RAILROAD—RAID ON THE WELDON RAILROAD—EARLY’S MOVEMENT
UPON WASHINGTON—MINING THE WORKS BEFORE
PETERSBURG—EXPLOSION OF THE MINE BEFORE PETERSBURG
—CAMPAIGN IN THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY—CAPTURE OF THE
WELDON RAILROAD.

CHAPTER LVIII. SHERIDAN’S
ADVANCE—VISIT TO SHERIDAN—SHERIDAN’S VICTORY IN THE
SHENANDOAH—SHERIDAN’S RIDE TO WINCHESTER—CLOSE OF THE
CAMPAIGN FOR THE WINTER.

CHAPTER LIX. THE CAMPAIGN IN
GEORGIA—SHERMAN’S MARCH TO THE SEA—WAR
ANECDOTES—THE MARCH ON SAVANNAH—INVESTMENT OF
SAVANNAH—CAPTURE OF SAVANNAH.

CHAPTER LX. THE BATTLE OF FRANKLIN—THE
BATTLE OF NASHVILLE

CHAPTER LXI. EXPEDITION AGAINST FORT
FISHER—ATTACK ON THE FORT—FAILURE OF THE
EXPEDITION—SECOND EXPEDITION AGAINST THE FORT—CAPTURE
OF FORT FISHER.

CHAPTER LXII. SHERMAN’S MARCH
NORTH—SHERIDAN ORDERED TO LYNCHBURG—CANBY ORDERED TO
MOVE AGAINST MOBILE—MOVEMENTS OF SCHOFIELD AND
THOMAS—CAPTURE OF COLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA—SHERMAN IN
THE CAROLINAS.

CHAPTER LXIII. ARRIVAL OF THE PEACE
COMMISSIONERS—LINCOLN AND THE PEACE COMMISSIONERS—AN
ANECDOTE OF LINCOLN—THE WINTER BEFORE
PETERSBURG—SHERIDAN DESTROYS THE RAILROAD—GORDON
CARRIES THE PICKET LINE—PARKE RECAPTURES THE LINE—THE
BATTLE OF WHITE OAK ROAD.

CHAPTER LXIV. INTERVIEW WITH
SHERIDAN—GRAND MOVEMENT OF THE ARMY OF THE
POTOMAC—SHERIDAN’S ADVANCE ON FIVE FORKS—BATTLE OF FIVE
FORKS—PARKE AND WRIGHT STORM THE ENEMY’S LINE—BATTLES
BEFORE PETERSBURG.

CHAPTER LXV. THE CAPTURE OF
PETERSBURG—MEETING PRESIDENT LINCOLN IN PETERSBURG—THE
CAPTURE OF RICHMOND—PURSUING THE ENEMY—VISIT TO
SHERIDAN AND MEADE.

CHAPTER LXVI. BATTLE OF SAILOR’S
CREEK—ENGAGEMENT AT FARMVILLE—CORRESPONDENCE WITH
GENERAL LEE—SHERIDAN INTERCEPTS THE ENEMY.

CHAPTER LXVII. NEGOTIATIONS AT
APPOMATTOX—INTERVIEW WITH LEE AT MCLEAN’S HOUSE—THE
TERMS OF SURRENDER—LEE’S SURRENDER—INTERVIEW WITH LEE
AFTER THE SURRENDER.

CHAPTER LXVIII. MORALE OF THE TWO
ARMIES—RELATIVE CONDITIONS OF THE NORTH AND
SOUTH—PRESIDENT LINCOLN VISITS RICHMOND—ARRIVAL AT
WASHINGTON—PRESIDENT LINCOLN’S ASSASSINATION—PRESIDENT
JOHNSON’S POLICY.

CHAPTER LXIX. SHERMAN AND
JOHNSTON—JOHNSTON’S SURRENDER TO SHERMAN—CAPTURE OF
MOBILE—WILSON’S EXPEDITION—CAPTURE OF JEFFERSON
DAVIS—GENERAL THOMAS’S QUALITIES—ESTIMATE OF GENERAL
CANBY.

CHAPTER LXX. THE END OF THE WAR—THE
MARCH TO WASHINGTON—ONE OF LINCOLN’S ANECDOTES—GRAND
REVIEW AT WASHINGTON—CHARACTERISTICS OF LINCOLN AND
STANTON—ESTIMATE OF THE DIFFERENT CORPS COMMANDERS.

CONCLUSION

APPENDIX

MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS

BREVET SECOND LIEUTENANT U. S. GRANT AT
THE AGE OF 21
YEARS, FROM AN OLD DAGUERREOTYPE TAKEN AT BETHEL,
CLERMONT COUNTY, OHIO, IN 1843. ENGRAVED ON STEEL
BY A. H. RITCHIE, N.A……………….. Frontispiece

FAC-SIMILE OF HANDWRITING…………….
Dedication

BIRTHPLACE AT POINT PLEASANT, CLERMONT
COUNTY; OHIO.
ETCHED BY WM. E. MARSHALL

MAP OF MONTEREY AND ITS APPROACHES

MAP OF THE VALLEY OF MEXICO

MAP OF THE BATTLE-FIELD NEAR BELMONT

MAP SHOWING THE RELATIVE POSITIONS OF FORT HENRY
AND FORT DONELSON

MAP OF FORT DONELSON

FAC-SIMILE OF GENERAL BUCKNER’S DISPATCH
RELATING TO
TERMS OF CAPITULATION, GENERAL GRANT’S REPLY, ” I PROPOSE
TO MOVE IMMEDIATELY UPON YOUR WORKS,” AND GENERAL BUCKNER’S
ANSWER ACCEPTING THE TERMS FOR THE SURRENDER OF FORT
DONELSON,
ALL FROM THE ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS

MAP OF THE FIELD OF SHILOH

MAP OF THE COUNTRY ABOUT CORINTH,
MISSISSIPPI

MAP OF THE BATTLES OF IUKA AND CORINTH

MAP OF THE VICKSBURG CAMPAIGN

MAP OF BRUINSBURG, PORT GIBSON AND GRAND
GULF

MAP OF THE COUNTRY ABOUT JACKSON,
MISSISSIPPI

MAP OF THE BATTLE OF CHAMPION’S HILL

MAP OF BATTLE-FIELD OF BIG BLACK RIVER
BRIDGE

MAP OF THE SIEGE OF VICKSBURG

MAP-LINE OF DEFENCES VICKSBURG TO HAINES’ BLUFF
AND
BLACK RIVER BRIDGE

LIEUTENANT-GENERAL, U S GRANT, ENGRAVED ON
STEEL, BY WM. E. MARSHALL Frontpiece (2nd Volume)

MAP OF KNOXVILLE, NASHVILLE AND
CHATTANOOGA

MAP OF CHATTANOOGA AND VICINITY

MAP OF THE BATTLEFIELD OF CHATTANOOGA

MAP OF THE MERIDIAN CAMPAIGN

MAP OF BERMUDA HUNDRED

MAP OF SHERMAN’S CAMPAIGN, CHATTANOOGA TO
ATLANTA

MAP ILLUSTRATING SIEGE OF ATLANTA

MAP OF WILDERNESS CAMPAIGN

MAP OF THE BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS

MAP OF THE COUNTRY BETWEEN THE WILDERNESS AND
SPOTTSYLVANIA COURT HOUSE

MAP OF THE BATTLE OF SPOTTSYLVANIA

MAP OF THE BATTLE OF NORTH ANNA

MAP OF THE OPERATIONS BETWEEN THE PAMUNKEY
AND THE JAMES RIVERS

MAP OF CENTRAL VIRGINIA

MAP OF THE BATTLE OF COLD HARBOR

MAP OF RICHMOND

MAP OF THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY CAMPAIGN

MAP OF SHERMAN’S MARCH TO THE SEA

MAP OF THE NASHVILLE CAMPAIGN SOUTH

MAP OF FORT FISHER

MAP OF SHERMAN’S MARCH NORTH

MAP OF PETERSBURG AND FIVE FORKS

MAP OF THE APPOMATTOX CAMPAIGN

MAP OF JETERSVILLE AND SAILOR’S CREEK

MAP OF HIGH BRIDGE AND FARMVILLE

MAP OF APPOMATTOX COURT HOUSE

ETCHING OF MCLEAN’S HOUSE AT APPOMATTOX WHERE
GENERAL LEE’S SURRENDER TOOK PLACE

FAC-SIMILE OF THE ORIGINAL TERMS OF LEE’S
SURRENDER AS WRITTEN BY GENERAL GRANT

MAP OF THE DEFENCES OF THE CITY OF MOBILE

MAP OF THE SEAT OF WAR-1861 TO 1865

CHAPTER I.

ANCESTRY—BIRTH—BOYHOOD.

My family is American, and has been for generations, in all its
branches, direct and collateral.

Mathew Grant, the founder of the branch in America, of which I
am a descendant, reached Dorchester, Massachusetts, in May, 1630.
In 1635 he moved to what is now Windsor, Connecticut, and was the
surveyor for that colony for more than forty years. He was also,
for many years of the time, town clerk. He was a married man when
he arrived at Dorchester, but his children were all born in this
country. His eldest son, Samuel, took lands on the east side of the
Connecticut River, opposite Windsor, which have been held and
occupied by descendants of his to this day.

I am of the eighth generation from Mathew Grant, and seventh
from Samuel. Mathew Grant’s first wife died a few years after their
settlement in Windsor, and he soon after married the widow
Rockwell, who, with her first husband, had been fellow-passengers
with him and his first wife, on the ship Mary and John, from
Dorchester, England, in 1630. Mrs. Rockwell had several children by
her first marriage, and others by her second. By intermarriage, two
or three generations later, I am descended from both the wives of
Mathew Grant.

In the fifth descending generation my great grandfather, Noah
Grant, and his younger brother, Solomon, held commissions in the
English army, in 1756, in the war against the French and Indians.
Both were killed that year.

My grandfather, also named Noah, was then but nine years old. At
the breaking out of the war of the Revolution, after the battles of
Concord and Lexington, he went with a Connecticut company to join
the Continental army, and was present at the battle of Bunker Hill.
He served until the fall of Yorktown, or through the entire
Revolutionary war. He must, however, have been on furlough part of
the time—as I believe most of the soldiers of that period
were—for he married in Connecticut during the war, had two
children, and was a widower at the close. Soon after this he
emigrated to Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania, and settled near
the town of Greensburg in that county. He took with him the younger
of his two children, Peter Grant. The elder, Solomon, remained with
his relatives in Connecticut until old enough to do for himself,
when he emigrated to the British West Indies.

Not long after his settlement in Pennsylvania, my grandfather,
Captain Noah Grant, married a Miss Kelly, and in 1799 he emigrated
again, this time to Ohio, and settled where the town of Deerfield
now stands. He had now five children, including Peter, a son by his
first marriage. My father, Jesse R. Grant, was the second
child—oldest son, by the second marriage.

Peter Grant went early to Maysville, Kentucky, where he was very
prosperous, married, had a family of nine children, and was drowned
at the mouth of the Kanawha River, Virginia, in 1825, being at the
time one of the wealthy men of the West.

My grandmother Grant died in 1805, leaving seven children. This
broke up the family. Captain Noah Grant was not thrifty in the way
of “laying up stores on earth,” and, after the death of his second
wife, he went, with the two youngest children, to live with his son
Peter, in Maysville. The rest of the family found homes in the
neighborhood of Deerfield, my father in the family of judge Tod,
the father of the late Governor Tod, of Ohio. His industry and
independence of character were such, that I imagine his labor
compensated fully for the expense of his maintenance.

There must have been a cordiality in his welcome into the Tod
family, for to the day of his death he looked upon judge Tod and
his wife, with all the reverence he could have felt if they had
been parents instead of benefactors. I have often heard him speak
of Mrs. Tod as the most admirable woman he had ever known. He
remained with the Tod family only a few years, until old enough to
learn a trade. He went first, I believe, with his half-brother,
Peter Grant, who, though not a tanner himself, owned a tannery in
Maysville, Kentucky. Here he learned his trade, and in a few years
returned to Deerfield and worked for, and lived in the family of a
Mr. Brown, the father of John Brown—”whose body lies
mouldering in the grave, while his soul goes marching on.” I have
often heard my father speak of John Brown, particularly since the
events at Harper’s Ferry. Brown was a boy when they lived in the
same house, but he knew him afterwards, and regarded him as a man
of great purity of character, of high moral and physical courage,
but a fanatic and extremist in whatever he advocated. It was
certainly the act of an insane man to attempt the invasion of the
South, and the overthrow of slavery, with less than twenty men.

My father set up for himself in business, establishing a tannery
at Ravenna, the county seat of Portage County. In a few years he
removed from Ravenna, and set up the same business at Point
Pleasant, Clermont County, Ohio.

During the minority of my father, the West afforded but poor
facilities for the most opulent of the youth to acquire an
education, and the majority were dependent, almost exclusively,
upon their own exertions for whatever learning they obtained. I
have often heard him say that his time at school was limited to six
months, when he was very young, too young, indeed, to learn much,
or to appreciate the advantages of an education, and to a
“quarter’s schooling” afterwards, probably while living with judge
Tod. But his thirst for education was intense. He learned rapidly,
and was a constant reader up to the day of his death in his
eightieth year. Books were scarce in the Western Reserve during his
youth, but he read every book he could borrow in the neighborhood
where he lived. This scarcity gave him the early habit of studying
everything he read, so that when he got through with a book, he
knew everything in it. The habit continued through life. Even after
reading the daily papers—which he never neglected—he
could give all the important information they contained. He made
himself an excellent English scholar, and before he was twenty
years of age was a constant contributor to Western newspapers, and
was also, from that time until he was fifty years old, an able
debater in the societies for this purpose, which were common in the
West at that time. He always took an active part in politics, but
was never a candidate for office, except, I believe, that he was
the first Mayor of Georgetown. He supported Jackson for the
Presidency; but he was a Whig, a great admirer of Henry Clay, and
never voted for any other democrat for high office after
Jackson.

My mother’s family lived in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, for
several generations. I have little information about her ancestors.
Her family took no interest in genealogy, so that my grandfather,
who died when I was sixteen years old, knew only back to his
grandfather. On the other side, my father took a great interest in
the subject, and in his researches, he found that there was an
entailed estate in Windsor, Connecticut, belonging to the family,
to which his nephew, Lawson Grant—still living—was the
heir. He was so much interested in the subject that he got his
nephew to empower him to act in the matter, and in 1832 or 1833,
when I was a boy ten or eleven years old, he went to Windsor,
proved the title beyond dispute, and perfected the claim of the
owners for a consideration—three thousand dollars, I think. I
remember the circumstance well, and remember, too, hearing him say
on his return that he found some widows living on the property, who
had little or nothing beyond their homes. From these he refused to
receive any recompense.

My mother’s father, John Simpson, moved from Montgomery County,
Pennsylvania, to Clermont County, Ohio, about the year 1819, taking
with him his four children, three daughters and one son. My mother,
Hannah Simpson, was the third of these children, and was then over
twenty years of age. Her oldest sister was at that time married,
and had several children. She still lives in Clermont County at
this writing, October 5th, 1884, and is over ninety years of age.
Until her memory failed her, a few years ago, she thought the
country ruined beyond recovery when the Democratic party lost
control in 1860. Her family, which was large, inherited her views,
with the exception of one son who settled in Kentucky before the
war. He was the only one of the children who entered the volunteer
service to suppress the rebellion.

Her brother, next of age and now past eighty-eight, is also
still living in Clermont County, within a few miles of the old
homestead, and is as active in mind as ever. He was a supporter of
the Government during the war, and remains a firm believer, that
national success by the Democratic party means irretrievable
ruin.

In June, 1821, my father, Jesse R. Grant, married Hannah
Simpson. I was born on the 27th of April, 1822, at Point Pleasant,
Clermont County, Ohio. In the fall of 1823 we moved to Georgetown,
the county seat of Brown, the adjoining county east. This place
remained my home, until at the age of seventeen, in 1839, I went to
West Point.

The schools, at the time of which I write, were very
indifferent. There were no free schools, and none in which the
scholars were classified. They were all supported by subscription,
and a single teacher—who was often a man or a woman incapable
of teaching much, even if they imparted all they knew—would
have thirty or forty scholars, male and female, from the infant
learning the A B C’s up to the young lady of eighteen and the boy
of twenty, studying the highest branches taught—the three
R’s, “Reading, ‘Riting, ‘Rithmetic.” I never saw an algebra, or
other mathematical work higher than the arithmetic, in Georgetown,
until after I was appointed to West Point. I then bought a work on
algebra in Cincinnati; but having no teacher it was Greek to
me.

My life in Georgetown was uneventful. From the age of five or
six until seventeen, I attended the subscription schools of the
village, except during the winters of 1836-7 and 1838-9. The former
period was spent in Maysville, Kentucky, attending the school of
Richardson and Rand; the latter in Ripley, Ohio, at a private
school. I was not studious in habit, and probably did not make
progress enough to compensate for the outlay for board and tuition.
At all events both winters were spent in going over the same old
arithmetic which I knew every word of before, and repeating: “A
noun is the name of a thing,” which I had also heard my Georgetown
teachers repeat, until I had come to believe it—but I cast no
reflections upon my old teacher, Richardson. He turned out bright
scholars from his school, many of whom have filled conspicuous
places in the service of their States. Two of my contemporaries
there—who, I believe, never attended any other institution of
learning—have held seats in Congress, and one, if not both,
other high offices; these are Wadsworth and Brewster.

My father was, from my earliest recollection, in comfortable
circumstances, considering the times, his place of residence, and
the community in which he lived. Mindful of his own lack of
facilities for acquiring an education, his greatest desire in
maturer years was for the education of his children. Consequently,
as stated before, I never missed a quarter from school from the
time I was old enough to attend till the time of leaving home. This
did not exempt me from labor. In my early days, every one labored
more or less, in the region where my youth was spent, and more in
proportion to their private means. It was only the very poor who
were exempt. While my father carried on the manufacture of leather
and worked at the trade himself, he owned and tilled considerable
land. I detested the trade, preferring almost any other labor; but
I was fond of agriculture, and of all employment in which horses
were used. We had, among other lands, fifty acres of forest within
a mile of the village. In the fall of the year choppers were
employed to cut enough wood to last a twelve-month. When I was
seven or eight years of age, I began hauling all the wood used in
the house and shops. I could not load it on the wagons, of course,
at that time, but I could drive, and the choppers would load, and
some one at the house unload. When about eleven years old, I was
strong enough to hold a plough. From that age until seventeen I did
all the work done with horses, such as breaking up the land,
furrowing, ploughing corn and potatoes, bringing in the crops when
harvested, hauling all the wood, besides tending two or three
horses, a cow or two, and sawing wood for stoves, etc., while still
attending school. For this I was compensated by the fact that there
was never any scolding or punishing by my parents; no objection to
rational enjoyments, such as fishing, going to the creek a mile
away to swim in summer, taking a horse and visiting my grandparents
in the adjoining county, fifteen miles off, skating on the ice in
winter, or taking a horse and sleigh when there was snow on the
ground.

While still quite young I had visited Cincinnati, forty-five
miles away, several times, alone; also Maysville, Kentucky, often,
and once Louisville. The journey to Louisville was a big one for a
boy of that day. I had also gone once with a two-horse carriage to
Chilicothe, about seventy miles, with a neighbor’s family, who were
removing to Toledo, Ohio, and returned alone; and had gone once, in
like manner, to Flat Rock, Kentucky, about seventy miles away. On
this latter occasion I was fifteen years of age. While at Flat
Rock, at the house of a Mr. Payne, whom I was visiting with his
brother, a neighbor of ours in Georgetown, I saw a very fine saddle
horse, which I rather coveted, and proposed to Mr. Payne, the
owner, to trade him for one of the two I was driving. Payne
hesitated to trade with a boy, but asking his brother about it, the
latter told him that it would be all right, that I was allowed to
do as I pleased with the horses. I was seventy miles from home,
with a carriage to take back, and Mr. Payne said he did not know
that his horse had ever had a collar on. I asked to have him
hitched to a farm wagon and we would soon see whether he would
work. It was soon evident that the horse had never worn harness
before; but he showed no viciousness, and I expressed a confidence
that I could manage him. A trade was at once struck, I receiving
ten dollars difference.

The next day Mr. Payne, of Georgetown, and I started on our
return. We got along very well for a few miles, when we encountered
a ferocious dog that frightened the horses and made them run. The
new animal kicked at every jump he made. I got the horses stopped,
however, before any damage was done, and without running into
anything. After giving them a little rest, to quiet their fears, we
started again. That instant the new horse kicked, and started to
run once more. The road we were on, struck the turnpike within half
a mile of the point where the second runaway commenced, and there
there was an embankment twenty or more feet deep on the opposite
side of the pike. I got the horses stopped on the very brink of the
precipice. My new horse was terribly frightened and trembled like
an aspen; but he was not half so badly frightened as my companion,
Mr. Payne, who deserted me after this last experience, and took
passage on a freight wagon for Maysville. Every time I attempted to
start, my new horse would commence to kick. I was in quite a
dilemma for a time. Once in Maysville I could borrow a horse from
an uncle who lived there; but I was more than a day’s travel from
that point. Finally I took out my bandanna—the style of
handkerchief in universal use then—and with this blindfolded
my horse. In this way I reached Maysville safely the next day, no
doubt much to the surprise of my friend. Here I borrowed a horse
from my uncle, and the following day we proceeded on our
journey.

About half my school-days in Georgetown were spent at the school
of John D. White, a North Carolinian, and the father of Chilton
White who represented the district in Congress for one term during
the rebellion. Mr. White was always a Democrat in politics, and
Chilton followed his father. He had two older brothers—all
three being school-mates of mine at their father’s school—who
did not go the same way. The second brother died before the
rebellion began; he was a Whig, and afterwards a Republican. His
oldest brother was a Republican and brave soldier during the
rebellion. Chilton is reported as having told of an earlier
horse-trade of mine. As he told the story, there was a Mr. Ralston
living within a few miles of the village, who owned a colt which I
very much wanted. My father had offered twenty dollars for it, but
Ralston wanted twenty-five. I was so anxious to have the colt, that
after the owner left, I begged to be allowed to take him at the
price demanded. My father yielded, but said twenty dollars was all
the horse was worth, and told me to offer that price; if it was not
accepted I was to offer twenty-two and a half, and if that would
not get him, to give the twenty-five. I at once mounted a horse and
went for the colt. When I got to Mr. Ralston’s house, I said to
him: “Papa says I may offer you twenty dollars for the colt, but if
you won’t take that, I am to offer twenty-two and a half, and if
you won’t take that, to give you twenty-five.” It would not require
a Connecticut man to guess the price finally agreed upon. This
story is nearly true. I certainly showed very plainly that I had
come for the colt and meant to have him. I could not have been over
eight years old at the time. This transaction caused me great
heart-burning. The story got out among the boys of the village, and
it was a long time before I heard the last of it. Boys enjoy the
misery of their companions, at least village boys in that day did,
and in later life I have found that all adults are not free from
the peculiarity. I kept the horse until he was four years old, when
he went blind, and I sold him for twenty dollars. When I went to
Maysville to school, in 1836, at the age of fourteen, I recognized
my colt as one of the blind horses working on the tread-wheel of
the ferry-boat.

I have describes enough of my early life to give an impression
of the whole. I did not like to work; but I did as much of it,
while young, as grown men can be hired to do in these days, and
attended school at the same time. I had as many privileges as any
boy in the village, and probably more than most of them. I have no
recollection of ever having been punished at home, either by
scolding or by the rod. But at school the case was different. The
rod was freely used there, and I was not exempt from its influence.
I can see John D. White—the school teacher—now, with
his long beech switch always in his hand. It was not always the
same one, either. Switches were brought in bundles, from a beech
wood near the school house, by the boys for whose benefit they were
intended. Often a whole bundle would be used up in a single day. I
never had any hard feelings against my teacher, either while
attending the school, or in later years when reflecting upon my
experience. Mr. White was a kindhearted man, and was much respected
by the community in which he lived. He only followed the universal
custom of the period, and that under which he had received his own
education.

CHAPTER II.

WEST POINT—GRADUATION.

In the winter of 1838-9 I was attending school at Ripley, only
ten miles distant from Georgetown, but spent the Christmas holidays
at home. During this vacation my father received a letter from the
Honorable Thomas Morris, then United States Senator from Ohio. When
he read it he said to me, “Ulysses, I believe you are going to
receive the appointment.” “What appointment?” I inquired. “To West
Point; I have applied for it.” “But I won’t go,” I said. He said he
thought I would, AND I THOUGHT SO TOO, IF HE DID. I really had no
objection to going to West Point, except that I had a very exalted
idea of the acquirements necessary to get through. I did not
believe I possessed them, and could not bear the idea of failing.
There had been four boys from our village, or its immediate
neighborhood, who had been graduated from West Point, and never a
failure of any one appointed from Georgetown, except in the case of
the one whose place I was to take. He was the son of Dr. Bailey,
our nearest and most intimate neighbor. Young Bailey had been
appointed in 1837. Finding before the January examination
following, that he could not pass, he resigned and went to a
private school, and remained there until the following year, when
he was reappointed. Before the next examination he was dismissed.
Dr. Bailey was a proud and sensitive man, and felt the failure of
his son so keenly that he forbade his return home. There were no
telegraphs in those days to disseminate news rapidly, no railroads
west of the Alleghanies, and but few east; and above all, there
were no reporters prying into other people’s private affairs.
Consequently it did not become generally known that there was a
vacancy at West Point from our district until I was appointed. I
presume Mrs. Bailey confided to my mother the fact that Bartlett
had been dismissed, and that the doctor had forbidden his son’s
return home.

The Honorable Thomas L. Hamer, one of the ablest men Ohio ever
produced, was our member of Congress at the time, and had the right
of nomination. He and my father had been members of the same
debating society (where they were generally pitted on opposite
sides), and intimate personal friends from their early manhood up
to a few years before. In politics they differed. Hamer was a
life-long Democrat, while my father was a Whig. They had a warm
discussion, which finally became angry—over some act of
President Jackson, the removal of the deposit of public moneys, I
think—after which they never spoke until after my
appointment. I know both of them felt badly over this estrangement,
and would have been glad at any time to come to a reconciliation;
but neither would make the advance. Under these circumstances my
father would not write to Hamer for the appointment, but he wrote
to Thomas Morris, United States Senator from Ohio, informing him
that there was a vacancy at West Point from our district, and that
he would be glad if I could be appointed to fill it. This letter, I
presume, was turned over to Mr. Hamer, and, as there was no other
applicant, he cheerfully appointed me. This healed the breach
between the two, never after reopened.

Besides the argument used by my father in favor of my going to
West Point—that “he thought I would go”—there was
another very strong inducement. I had always a great desire to
travel. I was already the best travelled boy in Georgetown, except
the sons of one man, John Walker, who had emigrated to Texas with
his family, and immigrated back as soon as he could get the means
to do so. In his short stay in Texas he acquired a very different
opinion of the country from what one would form going there
now.

I had been east to Wheeling, Virginia, and north to the Western
Reserve, in Ohio, west to Louisville, and south to Bourbon County,
Kentucky, besides having driven or ridden pretty much over the
whole country within fifty miles of home. Going to West Point would
give me the opportunity of visiting the two great cities of the
continent, Philadelphia and New York. This was enough. When these
places were visited I would have been glad to have had a steamboat
or railroad collision, or any other accident happen, by which I
might have received a temporary injury sufficient to make me
ineligible, for a time, to enter the Academy. Nothing of the kind
occurred, and I had to face the music.

Georgetown has a remarkable record for a western village. It is,
and has been from its earliest existence, a democratic town. There
was probably no time during the rebellion when, if the opportunity
could have been afforded, it would not have voted for Jefferson
Davis for President of the United States, over Mr. Lincoln, or any
other representative of his party; unless it was immediately after
some of John Morgan’s men, in his celebrated raid through Ohio,
spent a few hours in the village. The rebels helped themselves to
whatever they could find, horses, boots and shoes, especially
horses, and many ordered meals to be prepared for them by the
families. This was no doubt a far pleasanter duty for some families
than it would have been to render a like service for Union
soldiers. The line between the Rebel and Union element in
Georgetown was so marked that it led to divisions even in the
churches. There were churches in that part of Ohio where treason
was preached regularly, and where, to secure membership, hostility
to the government, to the war and to the liberation of the slaves,
was far more essential than a belief in the authenticity or
credibility of the Bible. There were men in Georgetown who filled
all the requirements for membership in these churches.

Yet this far-off western village, with a population, including
old and young, male and female, of about one thousand—about
enough for the organization of a single regiment if all had been
men capable of bearing arms—furnished the Union army four
general officers and one colonel, West Point graduates, and nine
generals and field officers of Volunteers, that I can think of. Of
the graduates from West Point, all had citizenship elsewhere at the
breaking out of the rebellion, except possibly General A. V. Kautz,
who had remained in the army from his graduation. Two of the
colonels also entered the service from other localities. The other
seven, General McGroierty, Colonels White, Fyffe, Loudon and
Marshall, Majors King and Bailey, were all residents of Georgetown
when the war broke out, and all of them, who were alive at the
close, returned there. Major Bailey was the cadet who had preceded
me at West Point. He was killed in West Virginia, in his first
engagement. As far as I know, every boy who has entered West Point
from that village since my time has been graduated.

I took passage on a steamer at Ripley, Ohio, for Pittsburg,
about the middle of May, 1839. Western boats at that day did not
make regular trips at stated times, but would stop anywhere, and
for any length of time, for passengers or freight. I have myself
been detained two or three days at a place after steam was up, the
gang planks, all but one, drawn in, and after the time advertised
for starting had expired. On this occasion we had no vexatious
delays, and in about three days Pittsburg was reached. From
Pittsburg I chose passage by the canal to Harrisburg, rather than
by the more expeditious stage. This gave a better opportunity of
enjoying the fine scenery of Western Pennsylvania, and I had rather
a dread of reaching my destination at all. At that time the canal
was much patronized by travellers, and, with the comfortable
packets of the period, no mode of conveyance could be more
pleasant, when time was not an object. From Harrisburg to
Philadelphia there was a railroad, the first I had ever seen,
except the one on which I had just crossed the summit of the
Alleghany Mountains, and over which canal boats were transported.
In travelling by the road from Harrisburg, I thought the perfection
of rapid transit had been reached. We travelled at least eighteen
miles an hour, when at full speed, and made the whole distance
averaging probably as much as twelve miles an hour. This seemed
like annihilating space. I stopped five days in Philadelphia, saw
about every street in the city, attended the theatre, visited
Girard College (which was then in course of construction), and got
reprimanded from home afterwards, for dallying by the way so long.
My sojourn in New York was shorter, but long enough to enable me to
see the city very well. I reported at West Point on the 30th or
31st of May, and about two weeks later passed my examination for
admission, without difficulty, very much to my surprise.

A military life had no charms for me, and I had not the faintest
idea of staying in the army even if I should be graduated, which I
did not expect. The encampment which preceded the commencement of
academic studies was very wearisome and uninteresting. When the
28th of August came—the date for breaking up camp and going
into barracks—I felt as though I had been at West Point
always, and that if I staid to graduation, I would have to remain
always. I did not take hold of my studies with avidity, in fact I
rarely ever read over a lesson the second time during my entire
cadetship. I could not sit in my room doing nothing. There is a
fine library connected with the Academy from which cadets can get
books to read in their quarters. I devoted more time to these, than
to books relating to the course of studies. Much of the time, I am
sorry to say, was devoted to novels, but not those of a trashy
sort. I read all of Bulwer’s then published, Cooper’s, Marryat’s,
Scott’s, Washington Irving’s works, Lever’s, and many others that I
do not now remember. Mathematics was very easy to me, so that when
January came, I passed the examination, taking a good standing in
that branch. In French, the only other study at that time in the
first year’s course, my standing was very low. In fact, if the
class had been turned the other end foremost I should have been
near head. I never succeeded in getting squarely at either end of
my class, in any one study, during the four years. I came near it
in French, artillery, infantry and cavalry tactics, and
conduct.

Early in the session of the Congress which met in December,
1839, a bill was discussed abolishing the Military Academy. I saw
in this an honorable way to obtain a discharge, and read the
debates with much interest, but with impatience at the delay in
taking action, for I was selfish enough to favor the bill. It never
passed, and a year later, although the time hung drearily with me,
I would have been sorry to have seen it succeed. My idea then was
to get through the course, secure a detail for a few years as
assistant professor of mathematics at the Academy, and afterwards
obtain a permanent position as professor in some respectable
college; but circumstances always did shape my course different
from my plans.

At the end of two years the class received the usual furlough,
extending from the close of the June examination to the 28th of
August. This I enjoyed beyond any other period of my life. My
father had sold out his business in Georgetown—where my youth
had been spent, and to which my day-dreams carried me back as my
future home, if I should ever be able to retire on a competency. He
had moved to Bethel, only twelve miles away, in the adjoining
county of Clermont, and had bought a young horse that had never
been in harness, for my special use under the saddle during my
furlough. Most of my time was spent among my old
school-mates—these ten weeks were shorter than one week at
West Point.

Persons acquainted with the Academy know that the corps of
cadets is divided into four companies for the purpose of military
exercises. These companies are officered from the cadets, the
superintendent and commandant selecting the officers for their
military bearing and qualifications. The adjutant, quartermaster,
four captains and twelve lieutenants are taken from the first, or
Senior class; the sergeants from the second, or junior class; and
the corporals from the third, or Sophomore class. I had not been
“called out” as a corporal, but when I returned from furlough I
found myself the last but one—about my standing in all the
tactics—of eighteen sergeants. The promotion was too much for
me. That year my standing in the class—as shown by the number
of demerits of the year—was about the same as it was among
the sergeants, and I was dropped, and served the fourth year as a
private.

During my first year’s encampment General Scott visited West
Point, and reviewed the cadets. With his commanding figure, his
quite colossal size and showy uniform, I thought him the finest
specimen of manhood my eyes had ever beheld, and the most to be
envied. I could never resemble him in appearance, but I believe I
did have a presentiment for a moment that some day I should occupy
his place on review—although I had no intention then of
remaining in the army. My experience in a horse-trade ten years
before, and the ridicule it caused me, were too fresh in my mind
for me to communicate this presentiment to even my most intimate
chum. The next summer Martin Van Buren, then President of the
United States, visited West Point and reviewed the cadets; he did
not impress me with the awe which Scott had inspired. In fact I
regarded General Scott and Captain C. F. Smith, the Commandant of
Cadets, as the two men most to be envied in the nation. I retained
a high regard for both up to the day of their death.

The last two years wore away more rapidly than the first two,
but they still seemed about five times as long as Ohio years, to
me. At last all the examinations were passed, and the members of
the class were called upon to record their choice of arms of
service and regiments. I was anxious to enter the cavalry, or
dragoons as they were then called, but there was only one regiment
of dragoons in the Army at that time, and attached to that, besides
the full complement of officers, there were at least four brevet
second lieutenants. I recorded therefore my first choice, dragoons;
second, 4th infantry; and got the latter. Again there was a
furlough—or, more properly speaking, leave of absence for the
class were now commissioned officers—this time to the end of
September. Again I went to Ohio to spend my vacation among my old
school-mates; and again I found a fine saddle horse purchased for
my special use, besides a horse and buggy that I could
drive—but I was not in a physical condition to enjoy myself
quite as well as on the former occasion. For six months before
graduation I had had a desperate cough (“Tyler’s grip” it was
called), and I was very much reduced, weighing but one hundred and
seventeen pounds, just my weight at entrance, though I had grown
six inches in stature in the mean time. There was consumption in my
father’s family, two of his brothers having died of that disease,
which made my symptoms more alarming. The brother and sister next
younger than myself died, during the rebellion, of the same
disease, and I seemed the most promising subject for it of the
three in 1843.

Having made alternate choice of two different arms of service
with different uniforms, I could not get a uniform suit until
notified of my assignment. I left my measurement with a tailor,
with directions not to make the uniform until I notified him
whether it was to be for infantry or dragoons. Notice did not reach
me for several weeks, and then it took at least a week to get the
letter of instructions to the tailor and two more to make the
clothes and have them sent to me. This was a time of great
suspense. I was impatient to get on my uniform and see how it
looked, and probably wanted my old school-mates, particularly the
girls, to see me in it.

The conceit was knocked out of me by two little circumstances
that happened soon after the arrival of the clothes, which gave me
a distaste for military uniform that I never recovered from. Soon
after the arrival of the suit I donned it, and put off for
Cincinnati on horseback. While I was riding along a street of that
city, imagining that every one was looking at me, with a feeling
akin to mine when I first saw General Scott, a little urchin,
bareheaded, footed, with dirty and ragged pants held up by bare a
single gallows—that’s what suspenders were called
then—and a shirt that had not seen a wash-tub for weeks,
turned to me and cried: “Soldier! will you work? No, sir—ee;
I’ll sell my shirt first!!” The horse trade and its dire
consequences were recalled to mind.

The other circumstance occurred at home. Opposite our house in
Bethel stood the old stage tavern where “man and beast” found
accommodation, The stable-man was rather dissipated, but possessed
of some humor. On my return I found him parading the streets, and
attending in the stable, barefooted, but in a pair of sky-blue
nankeen pantaloons—just the color of my uniform
trousers—with a strip of white cotton sheeting sewed down the
outside seams in imitation of mine. The joke was a huge one in the
mind of many of the people, and was much enjoyed by them; but I did
not appreciate it so highly.

During the remainder of my leave of absence, my time was spent
in visiting friends in Georgetown and Cincinnati, and occasionally
other towns in that part of the State.

CHAPTER III.

ARMY LIFE—CAUSES OF THE MEXICAN WAR—CAMP
SALUBRITY.

On the 30th of September I reported for duty at Jefferson
Barracks, St. Louis, with the 4th United States infantry. It was
the largest military post in the country at that time, being
garrisoned by sixteen companies of infantry, eight of the 3d
regiment, the remainder of the 4th. Colonel Steven Kearney, one of
the ablest officers of the day, commanded the post, and under him
discipline was kept at a high standard, but without vexatious rules
or regulations. Every drill and roll-call had to be attended, but
in the intervals officers were permitted to enjoy themselves,
leaving the garrison, and going where they pleased, without making
written application to state where they were going for how long,
etc., so that they were back for their next duty. It did seem to
me, in my early army days, that too many of the older officers,
when they came to command posts, made it a study to think what
orders they could publish to annoy their subordinates and render
them uncomfortable. I noticed, however, a few years later, when the
Mexican war broke out, that most of this class of officers
discovered they were possessed of disabilities which entirely
incapacitated them for active field service. They had the moral
courage to proclaim it, too. They were right; but they did not
always give their disease the right name.

At West Point I had a class-mate—in the last year of our
studies he was room-mate also—F. T. Dent, whose family
resided some five miles west of Jefferson Barracks. Two of his
unmarried brothers were living at home at that time, and as I had
taken with me from Ohio, my horse, saddle and bridle, I soon found
my way out to White Haven, the name of the Dent estate. As I found
the family congenial my visits became frequent. There were at home,
besides the young men, two daughters, one a school miss of fifteen,
the other a girl of eight or nine. There was still an older
daughter of seventeen, who had been spending several years at
boarding-school in St. Louis, but who, though through school, had
not yet returned home. She was spending the winter in the city with
connections, the family of Colonel John O’Fallon, well known in St.
Louis. In February she returned to her country home. After that I
do not know but my visits became more frequent; they certainly did
become more enjoyable. We would often take walks, or go on
horseback to visit the neighbors, until I became quite well
acquainted in that vicinity. Sometimes one of the brothers would
accompany us, sometimes one of the younger sisters. If the 4th
infantry had remained at Jefferson Barracks it is possible, even
probable, that this life might have continued for some years
without my finding out that there was anything serious the matter
with me; but in the following May a circumstance occurred which
developed my sentiment so palpably that there was no mistaking
it.

The annexation of Texas was at this time the subject of violent
discussion in Congress, in the press, and by individuals. The
administration of President Tyler, then in power, was making the
most strenuous efforts to effect the annexation, which was, indeed,
the great and absorbing question of the day. During these
discussions the greater part of the single rifle regiment in the
army—the 2d dragoons, which had been dismounted a year or two
before, and designated “Dismounted Rifles”—was stationed at
Fort Jessup, Louisiana, some twenty-five miles east of the Texas
line, to observe the frontier. About the 1st of May the 3d infantry
was ordered from Jefferson Barracks to Louisiana, to go into camp
in the neighborhood of Fort Jessup, and there await further orders.
The troops were embarked on steamers and were on their way down the
Mississippi within a few days after the receipt of this order.
About the time they started I obtained a leave of absence for
twenty days to go to Ohio to visit my parents. I was obliged to go
to St. Louis to take a steamer for Louisville or Cincinnati, or the
first steamer going up the Ohio River to any point. Before I left
St. Louis orders were received at Jefferson Barracks for the 4th
infantry to follow the 3d. A messenger was sent after me to stop my
leaving; but before he could reach me I was off, totally ignorant
of these events. A day or two after my arrival at Bethel I received
a letter from a classmate and fellow lieutenant in the 4th,
informing me of the circumstances related above, and advising me
not to open any letter post marked St. Louis or Jefferson Barracks,
until the expiration of my leave, and saying that he would pack up
my things and take them along for me. His advice was not necessary,
for no other letter was sent to me. I now discovered that I was
exceedingly anxious to get back to Jefferson Barracks, and I
understood the reason without explanation from any one. My leave of
absence required me to report for duty, at Jefferson Barracks, at
the end of twenty days. I knew my regiment had gone up the Red
River, but I was not disposed to break the letter of my leave;
besides, if I had proceeded to Louisiana direct, I could not have
reached there until after the expiration of my leave. Accordingly,
at the end of the twenty days, I reported for duty to Lieutenant
Ewell, commanding at Jefferson Barracks, handing him at the same
time my leave of absence. After noticing the phraseology of the
order—leaves of absence were generally worded, “at the end of
which time he will report for duty with his proper
command”—he said he would give me an order to join my
regiment in Louisiana. I then asked for a few days’ leave before
starting, which he readily granted. This was the same Ewell who
acquired considerable reputation as a Confederate general during
the rebellion. He was a man much esteemed, and deservedly so, in
the old army, and proved himself a gallant and efficient officer in
two wars—both in my estimation unholy.

I immediately procured a horse and started for the country,
taking no baggage with me, of course. There is an insignificant
creek—the Gravois—between Jefferson Barracks and the
place to which I was going, and at that day there was not a bridge
over it from its source to its mouth. There is not water enough in
the creek at ordinary stages to run a coffee mill, and at low water
there is none running whatever. On this occasion it had been
raining heavily, and, when the creek was reached, I found the banks
full to overflowing, and the current rapid. I looked at it a moment
to consider what to do. One of my superstitions had always been
when I started to go any where, or to do anything, not to turn
back, or stop until the thing intended was accomplished. I have
frequently started to go to places where I had never been and to
which I did not know the way, depending upon making inquiries on
the road, and if I got past the place without knowing it, instead
of turning back, I would go on until a road was found turning in
the right direction, take that, and come in by the other side. So I
struck into the stream, and in an instant the horse was swimming
and I being carried down by the current. I headed the horse towards
the other bank and soon reached it, wet through and without other
clothes on that side of the stream. I went on, however, to my
destination and borrowed a dry suit from
my—future—brother-in-law. We were not of the same size,
but the clothes answered every purpose until I got more of my
own.

Before I returned I mustered up courage to make known, in the
most awkward manner imaginable, the discovery I had made on
learning that the 4th infantry had been ordered away from Jefferson
Barracks. The young lady afterwards admitted that she too, although
until then she had never looked upon me other than as a visitor
whose company was agreeable to her, had experienced a depression of
spirits she could not account for when the regiment left. Before
separating it was definitely understood that at a convenient time
we would join our fortunes, and not let the removal of a regiment
trouble us. This was in May, 1844. It was the 22d of August, 1848,
before the fulfilment of this agreement. My duties kept me on the
frontier of Louisiana with the Army of Observation during the
pendency of Annexation; and afterwards I was absent through the war
with Mexico, provoked by the action of the army, if not by the
annexation itself. During that time there was a constant
correspondence between Miss Dent and myself, but we only met once
in the period of four years and three months. In May, 1845, I
procured a leave for twenty days, visited St. Louis, and obtained
the consent of the parents for the union, which had not been asked
for before.

As already stated, it was never my intention to remain in the
army long, but to prepare myself for a professorship in some
college. Accordingly, soon after I was settled at Jefferson
Barracks, I wrote a letter to Professor Church—Professor of
Mathematics at West Point—requesting him to ask my
designation as his assistant, when next a detail had to be made.
Assistant professors at West Point are all officers of the army,
supposed to be selected for their special fitness for the
particular branch of study they are assigned to teach. The answer
from Professor Church was entirely satisfactory, and no doubt I
should have been detailed a year or two later but for the Mexican
War coming on. Accordingly I laid out for myself a course of
studies to be pursued in garrison, with regularity, if not
persistency. I reviewed my West Point course of mathematics during
the seven months at Jefferson Barracks, and read many valuable
historical works, besides an occasional novel. To help my memory I
kept a book in which I would write up, from time to time, my
recollections of all I had read since last posting it. When the
regiment was ordered away, I being absent at the time, my effects
were packed up by Lieutenant Haslett, of the 4th infantry, and
taken along. I never saw my journal after, nor did I ever keep
another, except for a portion of the time while travelling abroad.
Often since a fear has crossed my mind lest that book might turn up
yet, and fall into the hands of some malicious person who would
publish it. I know its appearance would cause me as much
heart-burning as my youthful horse-trade, or the later rebuke for
wearing uniform clothes.

The 3d infantry had selected camping grounds on the reservation
at Fort Jessup, about midway between the Red River and the Sabine.
Our orders required us to go into camp in the same neighborhood,
and await further instructions. Those authorized to do so selected
a place in the pine woods, between the old town of Natchitoches and
Grand Ecore, about three miles from each, and on high ground back
from the river. The place was given the name of Camp Salubrity, and
proved entitled to it. The camp was on a high, sandy, pine ridge,
with spring branches in the valley, in front and rear. The springs
furnished an abundance of cool, pure water, and the ridge was above
the flight of mosquitoes, which abound in that region in great
multitudes and of great voracity. In the valley they swarmed in
myriads, but never came to the summit of the ridge. The regiment
occupied this camp six months before the first death occurred, and
that was caused by an accident.

There was no intimation given that the removal of the 3d and 4th
regiments of infantry to the western border of Louisiana was
occasioned in any way by the prospective annexation of Texas, but
it was generally understood that such was the case. Ostensibly we
were intended to prevent filibustering into Texas, but really as a
menace to Mexico in case she appeared to contemplate war. Generally
the officers of the army were indifferent whether the annexation
was consummated or not; but not so all of them. For myself, I was
bitterly opposed to the measure, and to this day regard the war,
which resulted, as one of the most unjust ever waged by a stronger
against a weaker nation. It was an instance of a republic following
the bad example of European monarchies, in not considering justice
in their desire to acquire additional territory. Texas was
originally a state belonging to the republic of Mexico. It extended
from the Sabine River on the east to the Rio Grande on the west,
and from the Gulf of Mexico on the south and east to the territory
of the United States and New Mexico—another Mexican state at
that time—on the north and west. An empire in territory, it
had but a very sparse population, until settled by Americans who
had received authority from Mexico to colonize. These colonists
paid very little attention to the supreme government, and
introduced slavery into the state almost from the start, though the
constitution of Mexico did not, nor does it now, sanction that
institution. Soon they set up an independent government of their
own, and war existed, between Texas and Mexico, in name from that
time until 1836, when active hostilities very nearly ceased upon
the capture of Santa Anna, the Mexican President. Before long,
however, the same people—who with permission of Mexico had
colonized Texas, and afterwards set up slavery there, and then
seceded as soon as they felt strong enough to do so—offered
themselves and the State to the United States, and in 1845 their
offer was accepted. The occupation, separation and annexation were,
from the inception of the movement to its final consummation, a
conspiracy to acquire territory out of which slave states might be
formed for the American Union.

Even if the annexation itself could be justified, the manner in
which the subsequent war was forced upon Mexico cannot. The fact
is, annexationists wanted more territory than they could possibly
lay any claim to, as part of the new acquisition. Texas, as an
independent State, never had exercised jurisdiction over the
territory between the Nueces River and the Rio Grande. Mexico had
never recognized the independence of Texas, and maintained that,
even if independent, the State had no claim south of the Nueces. I
am aware that a treaty, made by the Texans with Santa Anna while he
was under duress, ceded all the territory between the Nueces and
the Rio Grande—, but he was a prisoner of war when the treaty
was made, and his life was in jeopardy. He knew, too, that he
deserved execution at the hands of the Texans, if they should ever
capture him. The Texans, if they had taken his life, would have
only followed the example set by Santa Anna himself a few years
before, when he executed the entire garrison of the Alamo and the
villagers of Goliad.

In taking military possession of Texas after annexation, the
army of occupation, under General Taylor, was directed to occupy
the disputed territory. The army did not stop at the Nueces and
offer to negotiate for a settlement of the boundary question, but
went beyond, apparently in order to force Mexico to initiate war.
It is to the credit of the American nation, however, that after
conquering Mexico, and while practically holding the country in our
possession, so that we could have retained the whole of it, or made
any terms we chose, we paid a round sum for the additional
territory taken; more than it was worth, or was likely to be, to
Mexico. To us it was an empire and of incalculable value; but it
might have been obtained by other means. The Southern rebellion was
largely the outgrowth of the Mexican war. Nations, like
individuals, are punished for their transgressions. We got our
punishment in the most sanguinary and expensive war of modern
times.

The 4th infantry went into camp at Salubrity in the month of
May, 1844, with instructions, as I have said, to await further
orders. At first, officers and men occupied ordinary tents. As the
summer heat increased these were covered by sheds to break the rays
of the sun. The summer was whiled away in social enjoyments among
the officers, in visiting those stationed at, and near, Fort
Jessup, twenty-five miles away, visiting the planters on the Red
River, and the citizens of Natchitoches and Grand Ecore. There was
much pleasant intercourse between the inhabitants and the officers
of the army. I retain very agreeable recollections of my stay at
Camp Salubrity, and of the acquaintances made there, and no doubt
my feeling is shared by the few officers living who were there at
the time. I can call to mind only two officers of the 4th infantry,
besides myself, who were at Camp Salubrity with the regiment, who
are now alive.

With a war in prospect, and belonging to a regiment that had an
unusual number of officers detailed on special duty away from the
regiment, my hopes of being ordered to West Point as instructor
vanished. At the time of which I now write, officers in the
quartermaster’s, commissary’s and adjutant—general’s
departments were appointed from the line of the army, and did not
vacate their regimental commissions until their regimental and
staff commissions were for the same grades. Generally lieutenants
were appointed to captaincies to fill vacancies in the staff corps.
If they should reach a captaincy in the line before they arrived at
a majority in the staff, they would elect which commission they
would retain. In the 4th infantry, in 1844, at least six line
officers were on duty in the staff, and therefore permanently
detached from the regiment. Under these circumstances I gave up
everything like a special course of reading, and only read
thereafter for my own amusement, and not very much for that, until
the war was over. I kept a horse and rode, and staid out of doors
most of the time by day, and entirely recovered from the cough
which I had carried from West Point, and from all indications of
consumption. I have often thought that my life was saved, and my
health restored, by exercise and exposure, enforced by an
administrative act, and a war, both of which I disapproved.

As summer wore away, and cool days and colder nights came upon
us, the tents we were occupying ceased to afford comfortable
quarters; and “further orders” not reaching us, we began to look
about to remedy the hardship. Men were put to work getting out
timber to build huts, and in a very short time all were comfortably
housed—privates as well as officers. The outlay by the
government in accomplishing this was nothing, or nearly nothing.
The winter was spent more agreeably than the summer had been. There
were occasional parties given by the planters along the
“coast”—as the bottom lands on the Red River were called. The
climate was delightful.

Near the close of the short session of Congress of 1844-5, the
bill for the annexation of Texas to the United States was passed.
It reached President Tyler on the 1st of March, 1845, and promptly
received his approval. When the news reached us we began to look
again for “further orders.” They did not arrive promptly, and on
the 1st of May following I asked and obtained a leave of absence
for twenty days, for the purpose of visiting—St. Louis. The
object of this visit has been before stated.

Early in July the long expected orders were received, but they
only took the regiment to New Orleans Barracks. We reached there
before the middle of the month, and again waited weeks for still
further orders. The yellow fever was raging in New Orleans during
the time we remained there, and the streets of the city had the
appearance of a continuous well-observed Sunday. I recollect but
one occasion when this observance seemed to be broken by the
inhabitants. One morning about daylight I happened to be awake,
and, hearing the discharge of a rifle not far off, I looked out to
ascertain where the sound came from. I observed a couple of
clusters of men near by, and learned afterwards that “it was
nothing; only a couple of gentlemen deciding a difference of
opinion with rifles, at twenty paces. I do not remember if either
was killed, or even hurt, but no doubt the question of difference
was settled satisfactorily, and “honorably,” in the estimation of
the parties engaged. I do not believe I ever would have the courage
to fight a duel. If any man should wrong me to the extent of my
being willing to kill him, I would not be willing to give him the
choice of weapons with which it should be done, and of the time,
place and distance separating us, when I executed him. If I should
do another such a wrong as to justify him in killing me, I would
make any reasonable atonement within my power, if convinced of the
wrong done. I place my opposition to duelling on higher grounds
than here stated. No doubt a majority of the duels fought have been
for want of moral courage on the part of those engaged to
decline.

At Camp Salubrity, and when we went to New Orleans Barracks, the
4th infantry was commanded by Colonel Vose, then an old gentleman
who had not commanded on drill for a number of years. He was not a
man to discover infirmity in the presence of danger. It now
appeared that war was imminent, and he felt that it was his duty to
brush up his tactics. Accordingly, when we got settled down at our
new post, he took command of the regiment at a battalion drill.
Only two or three evolutions had been gone through when he
dismissed the battalion, and, turning to go to his own quarters,
dropped dead. He had not been complaining of ill health, but no
doubt died of heart disease. He was a most estimable man, of
exemplary habits, and by no means the author of his own
disease.

CHAPTER IV.

CORPUS CHRISTI—MEXICAN SMUGGLING—SPANISH RULE IN
MEXICO—SUPPLYING TRANSPORTATION.

Early in September the regiment left New Orleans for Corpus
Christi, now in Texas. Ocean steamers were not then common, and the
passage was made in sailing vessels. At that time there was not
more than three feet of water in the channel at the outlet of
Corpus Christi Bay; the debarkation, therefore, had to take place
by small steamers, and at an island in the channel called Shell
Island, the ships anchoring some miles out from shore. This made
the work slow, and as the army was only supplied with one or two
steamers, it took a number of days to effect the landing of a
single regiment with its stores, camp and garrison equipage, etc.
There happened to be pleasant weather while this was going on, but
the land-swell was so great that when the ship and steamer were on
opposite sides of the same wave they would be at considerable
distance apart. The men and baggage were let down to a point higher
than the lower deck of the steamer, and when ship and steamer got
into the trough between the waves, and were close together, the
load would be drawn over the steamer and rapidly run down until it
rested on the deck.

After I had gone ashore, and had been on guard several days at
Shell Island, quite six miles from the ship, I had occasion for
some reason or other to return on board. While on the
Suviah—I think that was the name of our vessel—I heard
a tremendous racket at the other end of the ship, and much and
excited sailor language, such as “damn your eyes,” etc. In a moment
or two the captain, who was an excitable little man, dying with
consumption, and not weighing much over a hundred pounds, came
running out, carrying a sabre nearly as large and as heavy as he
was, and crying, that his men had mutinied. It was necessary to
sustain the captain without question, and in a few minutes all the
sailors charged with mutiny were in irons. I rather felt for a time
a wish that I had not gone aboard just then. As the men charged
with mutiny submitted to being placed in irons without resistance,
I always doubted if they knew that they had mutinied until they
were told.

By the time I was ready to leave the ship again I thought I had
learned enough of the working of the double and single pulley, by
which passengers were let down from the upper deck of the ship to
the steamer below, and determined to let myself down without
assistance. Without saying anything of my intentions to any one, I
mounted the railing, and taking hold of the centre rope, just below
the upper block, I put one foot on the hook below the lower block,
and stepped off just as I did so some one called out “hold on.” It
was too late. I tried to “hold on” with all my might, but my heels
went up, and my head went down so rapidly that my hold broke, and I
plunged head foremost into the water, some twenty-five feet below,
with such velocity that it seemed to me I never would stop. When I
came to the surface again, being a fair swimmer, and not having
lost my presence of mind, I swam around until a bucket was let down
for me, and I was drawn up without a scratch or injury. I do not
believe there was a man on board who sympathized with me in the
least when they found me uninjured. I rather enjoyed the joke
myself. The captain of the Suviah died of his disease a few months
later, and I believe before the mutineers were tried. I hope they
got clear, because, as before stated, I always thought the mutiny
was all in the brain of a very weak and sick man.

After reaching shore, or Shell Island, the labor of getting to
Corpus Christi was slow and tedious. There was, if my memory serves
me, but one small steamer to transport troops and baggage when the
4th infantry arrived. Others were procured later. The distance from
Shell Island to Corpus Christi was some sixteen or eighteen miles.
The channel to the bay was so shallow that the steamer, small as it
was, had to be dragged over the bottom when loaded. Not more than
one trip a day could be effected. Later this was remedied, by
deepening the channel and increasing the number of vessels suitable
to its navigation.

Corpus Christi is near the head of the bay of the same name,
formed by the entrance of the Nueces River into tide-water, and is
on the west bank of that bay. At the time of its first occupancy by
United States troops there was a small Mexican hamlet there,
containing probably less than one hundred souls. There was, in
addition, a small American trading post, at which goods were sold
to Mexican smugglers. All goods were put up in compact packages of
about one hundred pounds each, suitable for loading on pack mules.
Two of these packages made a load for an ordinary Mexican mule, and
three for the larger ones. The bulk of the trade was in leaf
tobacco, and domestic cotton-cloths and calicoes. The Mexicans had,
before the arrival of the army, but little to offer in exchange
except silver. The trade in tobacco was enormous, considering the
population to be supplied. Almost every Mexican above the age of
ten years, and many much younger, smoked the cigarette. Nearly
every Mexican carried a pouch of leaf tobacco, powdered by rolling
in the hands, and a roll of corn husks to make wrappers. The
cigarettes were made by the smokers as they used them.

Up to the time of which I write, and for years
afterwards—I think until the administration of President
Juarez—the cultivation, manufacture and sale of tobacco
constituted a government monopoly, and paid the bulk of the revenue
collected from internal sources. The price was enormously high, and
made successful smuggling very profitable. The difficulty of
obtaining tobacco is probably the reason why everybody, male and
female, used it at that time. I know from my own experience that
when I was at West Point, the fact that tobacco, in every form, was
prohibited, and the mere possession of the weed severely punished,
made the majority of the cadets, myself included, try to acquire
the habit of using it. I failed utterly at the time and for many
years afterward; but the majority accomplished the object of their
youthful ambition.

Under Spanish rule Mexico was prohibited from producing anything
that the mother-country could supply. This rule excluded the
cultivation of the grape, olive and many other articles to which
the soil and climate were well adapted. The country was governed
for “revenue only;” and tobacco, which cannot be raised in Spain,
but is indigenous to Mexico, offered a fine instrumentality for
securing this prime object of government. The native population had
been in the habit of using “the weed” from a period, back of any
recorded history of this continent. Bad habits—if not
restrained by law or public opinion—spread more rapidly and
universally than good ones, and the Spanish colonists adopted the
use of tobacco almost as generally as the natives. Spain,
therefore, in order to secure the largest revenue from this source,
prohibited the cultivation, except in specified
localities—and in these places farmed out the privilege at a
very high price. The tobacco when raised could only be sold to the
government, and the price to the consumer was limited only by the
avarice of the authorities, and the capacity of the people to
pay.

All laws for the government of the country were enacted in
Spain, and the officers for their execution were appointed by the
Crown, and sent out to the New El Dorado. The Mexicans had been
brought up ignorant of how to legislate or how to rule. When they
gained their independence, after many years of war, it was the most
natural thing in the world that they should adopt as their own the
laws then in existence. The only change was, that Mexico became her
own executor of the laws and the recipient of the revenues. The
tobacco tax, yielding so large a revenue under the law as it stood,
was one of the last, if not the very last, of the obnoxious imposts
to be repealed. Now, the citizens are allowed to cultivate any
crops the soil will yield. Tobacco is cheap, and every quality can
be produced. Its use is by no means so general as when I first
visited the country.

Gradually the “Army of Occupation” assembled at Corpus Christi.
When it was all together it consisted of seven companies of the 2d
regiment of dragoons, four companies of light artillery, five
regiments of infantry—the 3d, 4th, 5th, 7th and 8th—and
one regiment of artillery acting as infantry—not more than
three thousand men in all. General Zachary Taylor commanded the
whole. There were troops enough in one body to establish a drill
and discipline sufficient to fit men and officers for all they were
capable of in case of battle. The rank and file were composed of
men who had enlisted in time of peace, to serve for seven dollars a
month, and were necessarily inferior as material to the average
volunteers enlisted later in the war expressly to fight, and also
to the volunteers in the war for the preservation of the Union. The
men engaged in the Mexican war were brave, and the officers of the
regular army, from highest to lowest, were educated in their
profession. A more efficient army for its number and armament, I do
not believe ever fought a battle than the one commanded by General
Taylor in his first two engagements on Mexican—or Texan
soil.

The presence of United States troops on the edge of the disputed
territory furthest from the Mexican settlements, was not sufficient
to provoke hostilities. We were sent to provoke a fight, but it was
essential that Mexico should commence it. It was very doubtful
whether Congress would declare war; but if Mexico should attack our
troops, the Executive could announce, “Whereas, war exists by the
acts of, etc.,” and prosecute the contest with vigor. Once
initiated there were but few public men who would have the courage
to oppose it. Experience proves that the man who obstructs a war in
which his nation is engaged, no matter whether right or wrong,
occupies no enviable place in life or history. Better for him,
individually, to advocate “war, pestilence, and famine,” than to
act as obstructionist to a war already begun. The history of the
defeated rebel will be honorable hereafter, compared with that of
the Northern man who aided him by conspiring against his government
while protected by it. The most favorable posthumous history the
stay-at-home traitor can hope for is—oblivion.

Mexico showing no willingness to come to the Nueces to drive the
invaders from her soil, it became necessary for the “invaders” to
approach to within a convenient distance to be struck. Accordingly,
preparations were begun for moving the army to the Rio Grande, to a
point near Matamoras. It was desirable to occupy a position near
the largest centre of population possible to reach, without
absolutely invading territory to which we set up no claim
whatever.

The distance from Corpus Christi to Matamoras is about one
hundred and fifty miles. The country does not abound in fresh
water, and the length of the marches had to be regulated by the
distance between water supplies. Besides the streams, there were
occasional pools, filled during the rainy season, some probably
made by the traders, who travelled constantly between Corpus
Christi and the Rio Grande, and some by the buffalo. There was not
at that time a single habitation, cultivated field, or herd of
domestic animals, between Corpus Christi and Matamoras. It was
necessary, therefore, to have a wagon train sufficiently large to
transport the camp and garrison equipage, officers’ baggage,
rations for the army, and part rations of grain for the artillery
horses and all the animals taken from the north, where they had
been accustomed to having their forage furnished them. The army was
but indifferently supplied with transportation. Wagons and harness
could easily be supplied from the north but mules and horses could
not so readily be brought. The American traders and Mexican
smugglers came to the relief. Contracts were made for mules at from
eight to eleven dollars each. The smugglers furnished the animals,
and took their pay in goods of the description before mentioned. I
doubt whether the Mexicans received in value from the traders five
dollars per head for the animals they furnished, and still more,
whether they paid anything but their own time in procuring them.
Such is trade; such is war. The government paid in hard cash to the
contractor the stipulated price.

Between the Rio Grande and the Nueces there was at that time a
large band of wild horses feeding; as numerous, probably, as the
band of buffalo roaming further north was before its rapid
extermination commenced. The Mexicans used to capture these in
large numbers and bring them into the American settlements and sell
them. A picked animal could be purchased at from eight to twelve
dollars, but taken at wholesale, they could be bought for
thirty-six dollars a dozen. Some of these were purchased for the
army, and answered a most useful purpose. The horses were generally
very strong, formed much like the Norman horse, and with very heavy
manes and tails. A number of officers supplied themselves with
these, and they generally rendered as useful service as the
northern animal in fact they were much better when grazing was the
only means of supplying forage.

There was no need for haste, and some months were consumed in
the necessary preparations for a move. In the meantime the army was
engaged in all the duties pertaining to the officer and the
soldier. Twice, that I remember, small trains were sent from Corpus
Christi, with cavalry escorts, to San Antonio and Austin, with
paymasters and funds to pay off small detachments of troops
stationed at those places. General Taylor encouraged officers to
accompany these expeditions. I accompanied one of them in December,
1845. The distance from Corpus Christi to San Antonio was then
computed at one hundred and fifty miles. Now that roads exist it is
probably less. From San Antonio to Austin we computed the distance
at one hundred and ten miles, and from the latter place back to
Corpus Christi at over two hundred miles. I know the distance now
from San Antonio to Austin is but little over eighty miles, so that
our computation was probably too high.

There was not at the time an individual living between Corpus
Christi and San Antonio until within about thirty miles of the
latter point, where there were a few scattering Mexican settlements
along the San Antonio River. The people in at least one of these
hamlets lived underground for protection against the Indians. The
country abounded in game, such as deer and antelope, with abundance
of wild turkeys along the streams and where there were nut-bearing
woods. On the Nueces, about twenty-five miles up from Corpus
Christi, were a few log cabins, the remains of a town called San
Patricio, but the inhabitants had all been massacred by the
Indians, or driven away.

San Antonio was about equally divided in population between
Americans and Mexicans. From there to Austin there was not a single
residence except at New Braunfels, on the Guadalupe River. At that
point was a settlement of Germans who had only that year come into
the State. At all events they were living in small huts, about such
as soldiers would hastily construct for temporary occupation. From
Austin to Corpus Christi there was only a small settlement at
Bastrop, with a few farms along the Colorado River; but after
leaving that, there were no settlements except the home of one man,
with one female slave, at the old town of Goliad. Some of the
houses were still standing. Goliad had been quite a village for the
period and region, but some years before there had been a Mexican
massacre, in which every inhabitant had been killed or driven away.
This, with the massacre of the prisoners in the Alamo, San Antonio,
about the same time, more than three hundred men in all, furnished
the strongest justification the Texans had for carrying on the war
with so much cruelty. In fact, from that time until the Mexican
war, the hostilities between Texans and Mexicans was so great that
neither was safe in the neighborhood of the other who might be in
superior numbers or possessed of superior arms. The man we found
living there seemed like an old friend; he had come from near Fort
Jessup, Louisiana, where the officers of the 3d and 4th infantry
and the 2d dragoons had known him and his family. He had emigrated
in advance of his family to build up a home for them.

CHAPTER V.

TRIP TO AUSTIN—PROMOTION TO FULL SECOND
LIEUTENANT—ARMY OF OCCUPATION.

When our party left Corpus Christi it was quite large, including
the cavalry escort, Paymaster, Major Dix, his clerk and the
officers who, like myself, were simply on leave; but all the
officers on leave, except Lieutenant Benjamin—afterwards
killed in the valley of Mexico—Lieutenant, now General,
Augur, and myself, concluded to spend their allotted time at San
Antonio and return from there. We were all to be back at Corpus
Christi by the end of the month. The paymaster was detained in
Austin so long that, if we had waited for him, we would have
exceeded our leave. We concluded, therefore, to start back at once
with the animals we had, and having to rely principally on grass
for their food, it was a good six days’ journey. We had to sleep on
the prairie every night, except at Goliad, and possibly one night
on the Colorado, without shelter and with only such food as we
carried with us, and prepared ourselves. The journey was hazardous
on account of Indians, and there were white men in Texas whom I
would not have cared to meet in a secluded place. Lieutenant Augur
was taken seriously sick before we reached Goliad and at a distance
from any habitation. To add to the complication, his horse—a
mustang that had probably been captured from the band of wild
horses before alluded to, and of undoubted longevity at his
capture—gave out. It was absolutely necessary to get for ward
to Goliad to find a shelter for our sick companion. By dint of
patience and exceedingly slow movements, Goliad was at last
reached, and a shelter and bed secured for our patient. We remained
over a day, hoping that Augur might recover sufficiently to resume
his travels. He did not, however, and knowing that Major Dix would
be along in a few days, with his wagon-train, now empty, and
escort, we arranged with our Louisiana friend to take the best of
care of the sick lieutenant until thus relieved, and went on.

I had never been a sportsman in my life; had scarcely ever gone
in search of game, and rarely seen any when looking for it. On this
trip there was no minute of time while travelling between San
Patricio and the settlements on the San Antonio River, from San
Antonio to Austin, and again from the Colorado River back to San
Patricio, when deer or antelope could not be seen in great numbers.
Each officer carried a shot-gun, and every evening, after going
into camp, some would go out and soon return with venison and wild
turkeys enough for the entire camp. I, however, never went out, and
had no occasion to fire my gun; except, being detained over a day
at Goliad, Benjamin and I concluded to go down to the
creek—which was fringed with timber, much of it the
pecan—and bring back a few turkeys. We had scarcely reached
the edge of the timber when I heard the flutter of wings overhead,
and in an instant I saw two or three turkeys flying away. These
were soon followed by more, then more, and more, until a flock of
twenty or thirty had left from just over my head. All this time I
stood watching the turkeys to see where they flew—with my gun
on my shoulder, and never once thought of levelling it at the
birds. When I had time to reflect upon the matter, I came to the
conclusion that as a sportsman I was a failure, and went back to
the house. Benjamin remained out, and got as many turkeys as he
wanted to carry back.

After the second night at Goliad, Benjamin and I started to make
the remainder of the journey alone. We reached Corpus Christi just
in time to avoid “absence without leave.” We met no one not even an
Indian—during the remainder of our journey, except at San
Patricio. A new settlement had been started there in our absence of
three weeks, induced possibly by the fact that there were houses
already built, while the proximity of troops gave protection
against the Indians. On the evening of the first day out from
Goliad we heard the most unearthly howling of wolves, directly in
our front. The prairie grass was tall and we could not see the
beasts, but the sound indicated that they were near. To my ear it
appeared that there must have been enough of them to devour our
party, horses and all, at a single meal. The part of Ohio that I
hailed from was not thickly settled, but wolves had been driven out
long before I left. Benjamin was from Indiana, still less
populated, where the wolf yet roamed over the prairies. He
understood the nature of the animal and the capacity of a few to
make believe there was an unlimited number of them. He kept on
towards the noise, unmoved. I followed in his trail, lacking moral
courage to turn back and join our sick companion. I have no doubt
that if Benjamin had proposed returning to Goliad, I would not only
have “seconded the motion” but have suggested that it was very
hard-hearted in us to leave Augur sick there in the first place;
but Benjamin did not propose turning back. When he did speak it was
to ask: “Grant, how many wolves do you think there are in that
pack?” Knowing where he was from, and suspecting that he thought I
would over-estimate the number, I determined to show my
acquaintance with the animal by putting the estimate below what
possibly could be correct, and answered: “Oh, about twenty,” very
indifferently. He smiled and rode on. In a minute we were close
upon them, and before they saw us. There were just TWO of them.
Seated upon their haunches, with their mouths close together, they
had made all the noise we had been hearing for the past ten
minutes. I have often thought of this incident since when I have
heard the noise of a few disappointed politicians who had deserted
their associates. There are always more of them before they are
counted.

A week or two before leaving Corpus Christi on this trip, I had
been promoted from brevet second-lieutenant, 4th infantry, to full
second-lieutenant, 7th infantry. Frank Gardner, [Afterwards General
Gardner, C.S.A.] of the 7th, was promoted to the 4th in the same
orders. We immediately made application to be transferred, so as to
get back to our old regiments. On my return, I found that our
application had been approved at Washington. While in the 7th
infantry I was in the company of Captain Holmes, afterwards a
Lieutenant-general in the Confederate army. I never came in contact
with him in the war of the Rebellion, nor did he render any very
conspicuous service in his high rank. My transfer carried me to the
company of Captain McCall, who resigned from the army after the
Mexican war and settled in Philadelphia. He was prompt, however, to
volunteer when the rebellion broke out, and soon rose to the rank
of major-general in the Union army. I was not fortunate enough to
meet him after he resigned. In the old army he was esteemed very
highly as a soldier and gentleman. Our relations were always most
pleasant.

The preparations at Corpus Christi for an advance progressed as
rapidly in the absence of some twenty or more lieutenants as if we
had been there. The principal business consisted in securing mules,
and getting them broken to harness. The process was slow but
amusing. The animals sold to the government were all young and
unbroken, even to the saddle, and were quite as wild as the wild
horses of the prairie. Usually a number would be brought in by a
company of Mexicans, partners in the delivery. The mules were first
driven into a stockade, called a corral, inclosing an acre or more
of ground. The Mexicans,—who were all experienced in throwing
the lasso,—would go into the corral on horseback, with their
lassos attached to the pommels of their saddles. Soldiers detailed
as teamsters and black smiths would also enter the corral, the
former with ropes to serve as halters, the latter with branding
irons and a fire to keep the irons heated. A lasso was then thrown
over the neck of a mule, when he would immediately go to the length
of his tether, first one end, then the other in the air. While he
was thus plunging and gyrating, another lasso would be thrown by
another Mexican, catching the animal by a fore-foot. This would
bring the mule to the ground, when he was seized and held by the
teamsters while the blacksmith put upon him, with hot irons, the
initials “U. S.” Ropes were then put about the neck, with a
slipnoose which would tighten around the throat if pulled. With a
man on each side holding these ropes, the mule was released from
his other bindings and allowed to rise. With more or less
difficulty he would be conducted to a picket rope outside and
fastened there. The delivery of that mule was then complete. This
process was gone through with every mule and wild horse with the
army of occupation.

The method of breaking them was less cruel and much more
amusing. It is a well-known fact that where domestic animals are
used for specific purposes from generation to generation, the
descendants are easily, as a rule, subdued to the same uses. At
that time in Northern Mexico the mule, or his ancestors, the horse
and the ass, was seldom used except for the saddle or pack. At all
events the Corpus Christi mule resisted the new use to which he was
being put. The treatment he was subjected to in order to overcome
his prejudices was summary and effective.

The soldiers were principally foreigners who had enlisted in our
large cities, and, with the exception of a chance drayman among
them, it is not probable that any of the men who reported
themselves as competent teamsters had ever driven a mule-team in
their lives, or indeed that many had had any previous experience in
driving any animal whatever to harness. Numbers together can
accomplish what twice their number acting individually could not
perform. Five mules were allotted to each wagon. A teamster would
select at the picket rope five animals of nearly the same color and
general appearance for his team. With a full corps of assistants,
other teamsters, he would then proceed to get his mules together.
In two’s the men would approach each animal selected, avoiding as
far as possible its heels. Two ropes would be put about the neck of
each animal, with a slip noose, so that he could be choked if too
unruly. They were then led out, harnessed by force and hitched to
the wagon in the position they had to keep ever after. Two men
remained on either side of the leader, with the lassos about its
neck, and one man retained the same restraining influence over each
of the others. All being ready, the hold would be slackened and the
team started. The first motion was generally five mules in the air
at one time, backs bowed, hind feet extended to the rear. After
repeating this movement a few times the leaders would start to run.
This would bring the breeching tight against the mules at the
wheels, which these last seemed to regard as a most unwarrantable
attempt at coercion and would resist by taking a seat, sometimes
going so far as to lie down. In time all were broken in to do their
duty submissively if not cheerfully, but there never was a time
during the war when it was safe to let a Mexican mule get entirely
loose. Their drivers were all teamsters by the time they got
through.

I recollect one case of a mule that had worked in a team under
the saddle, not only for some time at Corpus Christi, where he was
broken, but all the way to the point opposite Matamoras, then to
Camargo, where he got loose from his fastenings during the night.
He did not run away at first, but staid in the neighborhood for a
day or two, coming up sometimes to the feed trough even; but on the
approach of the teamster he always got out of the way. At last,
growing tired of the constant effort to catch him, he disappeared
altogether. Nothing short of a Mexican with his lasso could have
caught him. Regulations would not have warranted the expenditure of
a dollar in hiring a man with a lasso to catch that mule; but they
did allow the expenditure “of the mule,” on a certificate that he
had run away without any fault of the quartermaster on whose
returns he was borne, and also the purchase of another to take his
place. I am a competent witness, for I was regimental quartermaster
at the time.

While at Corpus Christi all the officers who had a fancy for
riding kept horses. The animals cost but little in the first
instance, and when picketed they would get their living without any
cost. I had three not long before the army moved, but a sad
accident bereft me of them all at one time. A colored boy who gave
them all the attention they got—besides looking after my tent
and that of a class-mate and fellow-lieutenant and cooking for us,
all for about eight dollars per month, was riding one to water and
leading the other two. The led horses pulled him from his seat and
all three ran away. They never were heard of afterwards. Shortly
after that some one told Captain Bliss, General Taylor’s
Adjutant-General, of my misfortune. “Yes; I heard Grant lost five
or six dollars’ worth of horses the other day,” he replied. That
was a slander; they were broken to the saddle when I got them and
cost nearly twenty dollars. I never suspected the colored boy of
malicious intent in letting them get away, because, if they had not
escaped, he could have had one of them to ride on the long march
then in prospect.

CHAPTER VI.

ADVANCE OF THE ARMY—CROSSING THE COLORADO—THE RIO
GRANDE.

At last the preparations were complete and orders were issued
for the advance to begin on the 8th of March. General Taylor had an
army of not more than three thousand men. One battery, the siege
guns and all the convalescent troops were sent on by water to
Brazos Santiago, at the mouth of the Rio Grande. A guard was left
back at Corpus Christi to look after public property and to take
care of those who were too sick to be removed. The remainder of the
army, probably not more than twenty five hundred men, was divided
into three brigades, with the cavalry independent. Colonel Twiggs,
with seven companies of dragoons and a battery of light artillery,
moved on the 8th. He was followed by the three infantry brigades,
with a day’s interval between the commands. Thus the rear brigade
did not move from Corpus Christi until the 11th of March. In view
of the immense bodies of men moved on the same day over narrow
roads, through dense forests and across large streams, in our late
war, it seems strange now that a body of less than three thousand
men should have been broken into four columns, separated by a day’s
march.

General Taylor was opposed to anything like plundering by the
troops, and in this instance, I doubt not, he looked upon the enemy
as the aggrieved party and was not willing to injure them further
than his instructions from Washington demanded. His orders to the
troops enjoined scrupulous regard for the rights of all peaceable
persons and the payment of the highest price for all supplies taken
for the use of the army.

All officers of foot regiments who had horses were permitted to
ride them on the march when it did not interfere with their
military duties. As already related, having lost my “five or six
dollars’ worth of horses” but a short time before I determined not
to get another, but to make the journey on foot. My company
commander, Captain McCall, had two good American horses, of
considerably more value in that country, where native horses were
cheap, than they were in the States. He used one himself and wanted
the other for his servant. He was quite anxious to know whether I
did not intend to get me another horse before the march began. I
told him No; I belonged to a foot regiment. I did not understand
the object of his solicitude at the time, but, when we were about
to start, he said: “There, Grant, is a horse for you.” I found that
he could not bear the idea of his servant riding on a long march
while his lieutenant went a-foot. He had found a mustang, a
three-year old colt only recently captured, which had been
purchased by one of the colored servants with the regiment for the
sum of three dollars. It was probably the only horse at Corpus
Christi that could have been purchased just then for any reasonable
price. Five dollars, sixty-six and two-thirds per cent. advance,
induced the owner to part with the mustang. I was sorry to take
him, because I really felt that, belonging to a foot regiment, it
was my duty to march with the men. But I saw the Captain’s
earnestness in the matter, and accepted the horse for the trip. The
day we started was the first time the horse had ever been under
saddle. I had, however, but little difficulty in breaking him,
though for the first day there were frequent disagreements between
us as to which way we should go, and sometimes whether we should go
at all. At no time during the day could I choose exactly the part
of the column I would march with; but after that, I had as
tractable a horse as any with the army, and there was none that
stood the trip better. He never ate a mouthful of food on the
journey except the grass he could pick within the length of his
picket rope.

A few days out from Corpus Christi, the immense herd of wild
horses that ranged at that time between the Nueces and the Rio
Grande was seen directly in advance of the head of the column and
but a few miles off. It was the very band from which the horse I
was riding had been captured but a few weeks before. The column was
halted for a rest, and a number of officers, myself among them,
rode out two or three miles to the right to see the extent of the
herd. The country was a rolling prairie, and, from the higher
ground, the vision was obstructed only by the earth’s curvature. As
far as the eye could reach to our right, the herd extended. To the
left, it extended equally. There was no estimating the number of
animals in it; I have no idea that they could all have been
corralled in the State of Rhode Island, or Delaware, at one time.
If they had been, they would have been so thick that the pasturage
would have given out the first day. People who saw the Southern
herd of buffalo, fifteen or twenty years ago, can appreciate the
size of the Texas band of wild horses in 1846.

At the point where the army struck the Little Colorado River,
the stream was quite wide and of sufficient depth for navigation.
The water was brackish and the banks were fringed with timber. Here
the whole army concentrated before attempting to cross. The army
was not accompanied by a pontoon train, and at that time the troops
were not instructed in bridge building. To add to the embarrassment
of the situation, the army was here, for the first time, threatened
with opposition. Buglers, concealed from our view by the brush on
the opposite side, sounded the “assembly,” and other military
calls. Like the wolves before spoken of, they gave the impression
that there was a large number of them and that, if the troops were
in proportion to the noise, they were sufficient to devour General
Taylor and his army. There were probably but few troops, and those
engaged principally in watching the movements of the “invader.” A
few of our cavalry dashed in, and forded and swam the stream, and
all opposition was soon dispersed. I do not remember that a single
shot was fired.

The troops waded the stream, which was up to their necks in the
deepest part. Teams were crossed by attaching a long rope to the
end of the wagon tongue passing it between the two swing mules and
by the side of the leader, hitching his bridle as well as the
bridle of the mules in rear to it, and carrying the end to men on
the opposite shore. The bank down to the water was steep on both
sides. A rope long enough to cross the river, therefore, was
attached to the back axle of the wagon, and men behind would hold
the rope to prevent the wagon “beating” the mules into the water.
This latter rope also served the purpose of bringing the end of the
forward one back, to be used over again. The water was deep enough
for a short distance to swim the little Mexican mules which the
army was then using, but they, and the wagons, were pulled through
so fast by the men at the end of the rope ahead, that no time was
left them to show their obstinacy. In this manner the artillery and
transportation of the “army of occupation” crossed the Colorado
River.

About the middle of the month of March the advance of the army
reached the Rio Grande and went into camp near the banks of the
river, opposite the city of Matamoras and almost under the guns of
a small fort at the lower end of the town. There was not at that
time a single habitation from Corpus Christi until the Rio Grande
was reached.

The work of fortifying was commenced at once. The fort was laid
out by the engineers, but the work was done by the soldiers under
the supervision of their officers, the chief engineer retaining
general directions. The Mexicans now became so incensed at our near
approach that some of their troops crossed the river above us, and
made it unsafe for small bodies of men to go far beyond the limits
of camp. They captured two companies of dragoons, commanded by
Captains Thornton and Hardee. The latter figured as a general in
the late war, on the Confederate side, and was author of the
tactics first used by both armies. Lieutenant Theodric Porter, of
the 4th infantry, was killed while out with a small detachment; and
Major Cross, the assistant quartermaster-general, had also been
killed not far from camp.

There was no base of supplies nearer than Point Isabel, on the
coast, north of the mouth of the Rio Grande and twenty-five miles
away. The enemy, if the Mexicans could be called such at this time
when no war had been declared, hovered about in such numbers that
it was not safe to send a wagon train after supplies with any
escort that could be spared. I have already said that General
Taylor’s whole command on the Rio Grande numbered less than three
thousand men. He had, however, a few more troops at Point Isabel or
Brazos Santiago. The supplies brought from Corpus Christi in wagons
were running short. Work was therefore pushed with great vigor on
the defences, to enable the minimum number of troops to hold the
fort. All the men who could be employed, were kept at work from
early dawn until darkness closed the labors of the day. With all
this the fort was not completed until the supplies grew so short
that further delay in obtaining more could not be thought of. By
the latter part of April the work was in a partially defensible
condition, and the 7th infantry, Major Jacob Brown commanding, was
marched in to garrison it, with some few pieces of artillery. All
the supplies on hand, with the exception of enough to carry the
rest of the army to Point Isabel, were left with the garrison, and
the march was commenced with the remainder of the command, every
wagon being taken with the army. Early on the second day after
starting the force reached its destination, without opposition from
the Mexicans. There was some delay in getting supplies ashore from
vessels at anchor in the open roadstead.

CHAPTER VII.

THE MEXICAN WAR—THE BATTLE OF PALO ALTO—THE BATTLE
OF RESACA DE LA PALMA—ARMY OF INVASION—GENERAL
TAYLOR—MOVEMENT ON CAMARGO.

While General Taylor was away with the bulk of his army, the
little garrison up the river was besieged. As we lay in our tents
upon the sea-shore, the artillery at the fort on the Rio Grande
could be distinctly heard.

The war had begun.

There were no possible means of obtaining news from the
garrison, and information from outside could not be otherwise than
unfavorable. What General Taylor’s feelings were during this
suspense I do not know; but for myself, a young second-lieutenant
who had never heard a hostile gun before, I felt sorry that I had
enlisted. A great many men, when they smell battle afar off, chafe
to get into the fray. When they say so themselves they generally
fail to convince their hearers that they are as anxious as they
would like to make believe, and as they approach danger they become
more subdued. This rule is not universal, for I have known a few
men who were always aching for a fight when there was no enemy
near, who were as good as their word when the battle did come. But
the number of such men is small.

On the 7th of May the wagons were all loaded and General Taylor
started on his return, with his army reinforced at Point Isabel,
but still less than three thousand strong, to relieve the garrison
on the Rio Grande. The road from Point Isabel to Matamoras is over
an open, rolling, treeless prairie, until the timber that borders
the bank of the Rio Grande is reached. This river, like the
Mississippi, flows through a rich alluvial valley in the most
meandering manner, running towards all points of the compass at
times within a few miles. Formerly the river ran by Resaca de la
Palma, some four or five miles east of the present channel. The old
bed of the river at Resaca had become filled at places, leaving a
succession of little lakes. The timber that had formerly grown upon
both banks, and for a considerable distance out, was still
standing. This timber was struck six or eight miles out from the
besieged garrison, at a point known as Palo Alto—”Tall trees”
or “woods.”

Early in the forenoon of the 8th of May as Palo Alto was
approached, an army, certainly outnumbering our little force, was
seen, drawn up in line of battle just in front of the timber. Their
bayonets and spearheads glistened in the sunlight formidably. The
force was composed largely of cavalry armed with lances. Where we
were the grass was tall, reaching nearly to the shoulders of the
men, very stiff, and each stock was pointed at the top, and hard
and almost as sharp as a darning-needle. General Taylor halted his
army before the head of column came in range of the artillery of
the Mexicans. He then formed a line of battle, facing the enemy.
His artillery, two batteries and two eighteen-pounder iron guns,
drawn by oxen, were placed in position at intervals along the line.
A battalion was thrown to the rear, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel
Childs, of the artillery, as reserves. These preparations
completed, orders were given for a platoon of each company to stack
arms and go to a stream off to the right of the command, to fill
their canteens and also those of the rest of their respective
companies. When the men were all back in their places in line, the
command to advance was given. As I looked down that long line of
about three thousand armed men, advancing towards a larger force
also armed, I thought what a fearful responsibility General Taylor
must feel, commanding such a host and so far away from friends. The
Mexicans immediately opened fire upon us, first with artillery and
then with infantry. At first their shots did not reach us, and the
advance was continued. As we got nearer, the cannon balls commenced
going through the ranks. They hurt no one, however, during this
advance, because they would strike the ground long before they
reached our line, and ricochetted through the tall grass so slowly
that the men would see them and open ranks and let them pass. When
we got to a point where the artillery could be used with effect, a
halt was called, and the battle opened on both sides.

The infantry under General Taylor was armed with flint-lock
muskets, and paper cartridges charged with powder, buck-shot and
ball. At the distance of a few hundred yards a man might fire at
you all day without your finding it out. The artillery was
generally six-pounder brass guns throwing only solid shot; but
General Taylor had with him three or four twelve-pounder howitzers
throwing shell, besides his eighteen-pounders before spoken of,
that had a long range. This made a powerful armament. The Mexicans
were armed about as we were so far as their infantry was concerned,
but their artillery only fired solid shot. We had greatly the
advantage in this arm.

The artillery was advanced a rod or two in front of the line,
and opened fire. The infantry stood at order arms as spectators,
watching the effect of our shots upon the enemy, and watching his
shots so as to step out of their way. It could be seen that the
eighteen-pounders and the howitzers did a great deal of execution.
On our side there was little or no loss while we occupied this
position. During the battle Major Ringgold, an accomplished and
brave artillery officer, was mortally wounded, and Lieutenant
Luther, also of the artillery, was struck. During the day several
advances were made, and just at dusk it became evident that the
Mexicans were falling back. We again advanced, and occupied at the
close of the battle substantially the ground held by the enemy at
the beginning. In this last move there was a brisk fire upon our
troops, and some execution was done. One cannon-ball passed through
our ranks, not far from me. It took off the head of an enlisted
man, and the under jaw of Captain Page of my regiment, while the
splinters from the musket of the killed soldier, and his brains and
bones, knocked down two or three others, including one officer,
Lieutenant Wallen,—hurting them more or less. Our casualties
for the day were nine killed and forty-seven wounded.

At the break of day on the 9th, the army under Taylor was ready
to renew the battle; but an advance showed that the enemy had
entirely left our front during the night. The chaparral before us
was impenetrable except where there were roads or trails, with
occasionally clear or bare spots of small dimensions. A body of men
penetrating it might easily be ambushed. It was better to have a
few men caught in this way than the whole army, yet it was
necessary that the garrison at the river should be relieved. To get
to them the chaparral had to be passed. Thus I assume General
Taylor reasoned. He halted the army not far in advance of the
ground occupied by the Mexicans the day before, and selected
Captain C. F. Smith, of the artillery, and Captain McCall, of my
company, to take one hundred and fifty picked men each and find
where the enemy had gone. This left me in command of the company,
an honor and responsibility I thought very great.

Smith and McCall found no obstruction in the way of their
advance until they came up to the succession of ponds, before
described, at Resaca. The Mexicans had passed them and formed their
lines on the opposite bank. This position they had strengthened a
little by throwing up dead trees and brush in their front, and by
placing artillery to cover the approaches and open places. Smith
and McCall deployed on each side of the road as well as they could,
and engaged the enemy at long range. Word was sent back, and the
advance of the whole army was at once commenced. As we came up we
were deployed in like manner. I was with the right wing, and led my
company through the thicket wherever a penetrable place could be
found, taking advantage of any clear spot that would carry me
towards the enemy. At last I got pretty close up without knowing
it. The balls commenced to whistle very thick overhead, cutting the
limbs of the chaparral right and left. We could not see the enemy,
so I ordered my men to lie down, an order that did not have to be
enforced. We kept our position until it became evident that the
enemy were not firing at us, and then withdrew to find better
ground to advance upon.

By this time some progress had been made on our left. A section
of artillery had been captured by the cavalry, and some prisoners
had been taken. The Mexicans were giving way all along the line,
and many of them had, no doubt, left early. I at last found a clear
space separating two ponds. There seemed to be a few men in front
and I charged upon them with my company.

There was no resistance, and we captured a Mexican colonel, who
had been wounded, and a few men. Just as I was sending them to the
rear with a guard of two or three men, a private came from the
front bringing back one of our officers, who had been badly wounded
in advance of where I was. The ground had been charged over before.
My exploit was equal to that of the soldier who boasted that he had
cut off the leg of one of the enemy. When asked why he did not cut
off his head, he replied: “Some one had done that before.” This
left no doubt in my mind but that the battle of Resaca de la Palma
would have been won, just as it was, if I had not been there. There
was no further resistance. The evening of the 9th the army was
encamped on its old ground near the Fort, and the garrison was
relieved. The siege had lasted a number of days, but the casualties
were few in number. Major Jacob Brown, of the 7th infantry, the
commanding officer, had been killed, and in his honor the fort was
named. Since then a town of considerable importance has sprung up
on the ground occupied by the fort and troops, which has also taken
his name.

The battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma seemed to us
engaged, as pretty important affairs; but we had only a faint
conception of their magnitude until they were fought over in the
North by the Press and the reports came back to us. At the same
time, or about the same time, we learned that war existed between
the United States and Mexico, by the acts of the latter country. On
learning this fact General Taylor transferred our camps to the
south or west bank of the river, and Matamoras was occupied. We
then became the “Army of Invasion.”

Up to this time Taylor had none but regular troops in his
command; but now that invasion had already taken place, volunteers
for one year commenced arriving. The army remained at Matamoras
until sufficiently reinforced to warrant a movement into the
interior. General Taylor was not an officer to trouble the
administration much with his demands, but was inclined to do the
best he could with the means given him. He felt his responsibility
as going no further. If he had thought that he was sent to perform
an impossibility with the means given him, he would probably have
informed the authorities of his opinion and left them to determine
what should be done. If the judgment was against him he would have
gone on and done the best he could with the means at hand without
parading his grievance before the public. No soldier could face
either danger or responsibility more calmly than he. These are
qualities more rarely found than genius or physical courage.

General Taylor never made any great show or parade, either of
uniform or retinue. In dress he was possibly too plain, rarely
wearing anything in the field to indicate his rank, or even that he
was an officer; but he was known to every soldier in his army, and
was respected by all. I can call to mind only one instance when I
saw him in uniform, and one other when I heard of his wearing it,
On both occasions he was unfortunate. The first was at Corpus
Christi. He had concluded to review his army before starting on the
march and gave orders accordingly. Colonel Twiggs was then second
in rank with the army, and to him was given the command of the
review. Colonel and Brevet Brigadier-General Worth, a far different
soldier from Taylor in the use of the uniform, was next to Twiggs
in rank, and claimed superiority by virtue of his brevet rank when
the accidents of service threw them where one or the other had to
command. Worth declined to attend the review as subordinate to
Twiggs until the question was settled by the highest authority.
This broke up the review, and the question was referred to
Washington for final decision.

General Taylor was himself only a colonel, in real rank, at that
time, and a brigadier-general by brevet. He was assigned to duty,
however, by the President, with the rank which his brevet gave him.
Worth was not so assigned, but by virtue of commanding a division
he must, under the army regulations of that day, have drawn the pay
of his brevet rank. The question was submitted to Washington, and
no response was received until after the army had reached the Rio
Grande. It was decided against General Worth, who at once tendered
his resignation and left the army, going north, no doubt, by the
same vessel that carried it. This kept him out of the battles of
Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma. Either the resignation was not
accepted, or General Worth withdrew it before action had been
taken. At all events he returned to the army in time to command his
division in the battle of Monterey, and served with it to the end
of the war.

The second occasion on which General Taylor was said to have
donned his uniform, was in order to receive a visit from the Flag
Officer of the naval squadron off the mouth of the Rio Grande.
While the army was on that river the Flag Officer sent word that he
would call on the General to pay his respects on a certain day.
General Taylor, knowing that naval officers habitually wore all the
uniform the “law allowed” on all occasions of ceremony, thought it
would be only civil to receive his guest in the same style. His
uniform was therefore got out, brushed up, and put on, in advance
of the visit. The Flag Officer, knowing General Taylor’s aversion
to the wearing of the uniform, and feeling that it would be
regarded as a compliment should he meet him in civilian’s dress,
left off his uniform for this occasion. The meeting was said to
have been embarrassing to both, and the conversation was
principally apologetic.

The time was whiled away pleasantly enough at Matamoras, while
we were waiting for volunteers. It is probable that all the most
important people of the territory occupied by our army left their
homes before we got there, but with those remaining the best of
relations apparently existed. It was the policy of the Commanding
General to allow no pillaging, no taking of private property for
public or individual use without satisfactory compensation, so that
a better market was afforded than the people had ever known
before.

Among the troops that joined us at Matamoras was an Ohio
regiment, of which Thomas L. Hamer, the Member of Congress who had
given me my appointment to West Point, was major. He told me then
that he could have had the colonelcy, but that as he knew he was to
be appointed a brigadier-general, he preferred at first to take the
lower grade. I have said before that Hamer was one of the ablest
men Ohio ever produced. At that time he was in the prime of life,
being less than fifty years of age, and possessed an admirable
physique, promising long life. But he was taken sick before
Monterey, and died within a few days. I have always believed that
had his life been spared, he would have been President of the
United States during the term filled by President Pierce. Had Hamer
filled that office his partiality for me was such, there is but
little doubt I should have been appointed to one of the staff corps
of the army—the Pay Department probably—and would
therefore now be preparing to retire. Neither of these speculations
is unreasonable, and they are mentioned to show how little men
control their own destiny.

Reinforcements having arrived, in the month of August the
movement commenced from Matamoras to Camargo, the head of
navigation on the Rio Grande. The line of the Rio Grande was all
that was necessary to hold, unless it was intended to invade Mexico
from the North. In that case the most natural route to take was the
one which General Taylor selected. It entered a pass in the Sierra
Madre Mountains, at Monterey, through which the main road runs to
the City of Mexico. Monterey itself was a good point to hold, even
if the line of the Rio Grande covered all the territory we desired
to occupy at that time. It is built on a plain two thousand feet
above tide water, where the air is bracing and the situation
healthy.

On the 19th of August the army started for Monterey, leaving a
small garrison at Matamoras. The troops, with the exception of the
artillery, cavalry, and the brigade to which I belonged, were moved
up the river to Camargo on steamers. As there were but two or three
of these, the boats had to make a number of trips before the last
of the troops were up. Those who marched did so by the south side
of the river. Lieutenant-Colonel Garland, of the 4th infantry, was
the brigade commander, and on this occasion commanded the entire
marching force. One day out convinced him that marching by day in
that latitude, in the month of August, was not a beneficial
sanitary measure, particularly for Northern men. The order of
marching was changed and night marches were substituted with the
best results.

When Camargo was reached, we found a city of tents outside the
Mexican hamlet. I was detailed to act as quartermaster and
commissary to the regiment. The teams that had proven abundantly
sufficient to transport all supplies from Corpus Christi to the Rio
Grande over the level prairies of Texas, were entirely inadequate
to the needs of the reinforced army in a mountainous country. To
obviate the deficiency, pack mules were hired, with Mexicans to
pack and drive them. I had charge of the few wagons allotted to the
4th infantry and of the pack train to supplement them. There were
not men enough in the army to manage that train without the help of
Mexicans who had learned how. As it was the difficulty was great
enough. The troops would take up their march at an early hour each
day. After they had started, the tents and cooking utensils had to
be made into packages, so that they could be lashed to the backs of
the mules. Sheet-iron kettles, tent-poles and mess chests were
inconvenient articles to transport in that way. It took several
hours to get ready to start each morning, and by the time we were
ready some of the mules first loaded would be tired of standing so
long with their loads on their backs. Sometimes one would start to
run, bowing his back and kicking up until he scattered his load;
others would lie down and try to disarrange their loads by
attempting to get on the top of them by rolling on them; others
with tent-poles for part of their loads would manage to run a
tent-pole on one side of a sapling while they would take the other.
I am not aware of ever having used a profane expletive in my life;
but I would have the charity to excuse those who may have done so,
if they were in charge of a train of Mexican pack mules at the
time.

CHAPTER VIII.

ADVANCE ON MONTEREY—THE BLACK FORT—THE BATTLE OF
MONTEREY—SURRENDER OF THE CITY.

The advance from Camargo was commenced on the 5th of September.
The army was divided into four columns, separated from each other
by one day’s march. The advance reached Cerralvo in four days and
halted for the remainder of the troops to come up. By the 13th the
rear-guard had arrived, and the same day the advance resumed its
march, followed as before, a day separating the divisions. The
forward division halted again at Marin, twenty-four miles from
Monterey. Both this place and Cerralvo were nearly deserted, and
men, women and children were seen running and scattered over the
hills as we approached; but when the people returned they found all
their abandoned property safe, which must have given them a
favorable opinion of Los Grengos—”the Yankees.” From Marin
the movement was in mass. On the 19th General Taylor, with his army,
was encamped at Walnut Springs, within three miles of Monterey.

The town is on a small stream coming out of the mountain-pass,
and is backed by a range of hills of moderate elevation. To the
north, between the city and Walnut Springs, stretches an extensive
plain. On this plain, and entirely outside of the last houses of
the city, stood a strong fort, enclosed on all sides, to which our
army gave the name of “Black Fort.” Its guns commanded the
approaches to the city to the full extent of their range. There
were two detached spurs of hills or mountains to the north and
northwest of the city, which were also fortified. On one of these
stood the Bishop’s Palace. The road to Saltillo leaves the upper or
western end of the city under the fire of the guns from these
heights. The lower or eastern end was defended by two or three
small detached works, armed with artillery and infantry. To the
south was the mountain stream before mentioned, and back of that
the range of foot-hills. The plaza in the centre of the city was
the citadel, properly speaking. All the streets leading from it
were swept by artillery, cannon being intrenched behind temporary
parapets. The house-tops near the plaza were converted into
infantry fortifications by the use of sand-bags for parapets. Such
were the defences of Monterey in September, 1847. General Ampudia,
with a force of certainly ten thousand men, was in command.

General Taylor’s force was about six thousand five hundred
strong, in three divisions, under Generals Butler, Twiggs and
Worth. The troops went into camp at Walnut Springs, while the
engineer officers, under Major Mansfield—a General in the
late war—commenced their reconnoissance. Major Mansfield
found that it would be practicable to get troops around, out of
range of the Black Fort and the works on the detached hills to the
north-west of the city, to the Saltillo road. With this road in our
possession, the enemy would be cut off from receiving further
supplies, if not from all communication with the interior. General
Worth, with his division somewhat reinforced, was given the task of
gaining possession of the Saltillo road, and of carrying the
detached works outside the city, in that quarter. He started on his
march early in the afternoon of the 20th. The divisions under
Generals Butler and Twiggs were drawn up to threaten the east and
north sides of the city and the works on those fronts, in support
of the movement under General Worth. Worth’s was regarded as the
main attack on Monterey, and all other operations were in support
of it. His march this day was uninterrupted; but the enemy was seen
to reinforce heavily about the Bishop’s Palace and the other
outside fortifications on their left. General Worth reached a
defensible position just out of range of the enemy’s guns on the
heights north-west of the city, and bivouacked for the night. The
engineer officers with him—Captain Sanders and Lieutenant
George G. Meade, afterwards the commander of the victorious
National army at the battle of Gettysburg—made a
reconnoissance to the Saltillo road under cover of night.

During the night of the 20th General Taylor had established a
battery, consisting of two twenty-four-pounder howitzers and a ten
inch mortar, at a point from which they could play upon Black Fort.
A natural depression in the plain, sufficiently deep to protect men
standing in it from the fire from the fort, was selected and the
battery established on the crest nearest the enemy. The 4th
infantry, then consisting of but six reduced companies, was ordered
to support the artillerists while they were intrenching themselves
and their guns. I was regimental quartermaster at the time and was
ordered to remain in charge of camp and the public property at
Walnut Springs. It was supposed that the regiment would return to
its camp in the morning.

The point for establishing the siege battery was reached and the
work performed without attracting the attention of the enemy. At
daylight the next morning fire was opened on both sides and
continued with, what seemed to me at that day, great fury. My
curiosity got the better of my judgment, and I mounted a horse and
rode to the front to see what was going on. I had been there but a
short time when an order to charge was given, and lacking the moral
courage to return to camp—where I had been ordered to
stay—I charged with the regiment As soon as the troops were
out of the depression they came under the fire of Black Fort. As
they advanced they got under fire from batteries guarding the east,
or lower, end of the city, and of musketry. About one-third of the
men engaged in the charge were killed or wounded in the space of a
few minutes. We retreated to get out of fire, not backward, but
eastward and perpendicular to the direct road running into the city
from Walnut Springs. I was, I believe, the only person in the 4th
infantry in the charge who was on horseback. When we got to a lace
of safety the regiment halted and drew itself together—what
was left of it. The adjutant of the regiment, Lieutenant Hoskins,
who was not in robust health, found himself very much fatigued from
running on foot in the charge and retreat, and, seeing me on
horseback, expressed a wish that he could be mounted also. I
offered him my horse and he accepted the offer. A few minutes later
I saw a soldier, a quartermaster’s man, mounted, not far away. I
ran to him, took his horse and was back with the regiment in a few
minutes. In a short time we were off again; and the next place of
safety from the shots of the enemy that I recollect of being in,
was a field of cane or corn to the north-east of the lower
batteries. The adjutant to whom I had loaned my horse was killed,
and I was designated to act in his place.

This charge was ill-conceived, or badly executed. We belonged to
the brigade commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Garland, and he had
received orders to charge the lower batteries of the city, and
carry them if he could without too much loss, for the purpose of
creating a diversion in favor of Worth, who was conducting the
movement which it was intended should be decisive. By a movement by
the left flank Garland could have led his men beyond the range of
the fire from Black Fort and advanced towards the northeast angle
of the city, as well covered from fire as could be expected. There
was no undue loss of life in reaching the lower end of Monterey,
except that sustained by Garland’s command.

Meanwhile Quitman’s brigade, conducted by an officer of
engineers, had reached the eastern end of the city, and was placed
under cover of the houses without much loss. Colonel Garland’s
brigade also arrived at the suburbs, and, by the assistance of some
of our troops that had reached house-tops from which they could
fire into a little battery covering the approaches to the lower end
of the city, the battery was speedily captured and its guns were
turned upon another work of the enemy. An entrance into the east
end of the city was now secured, and the houses protected our
troops so long as they were inactive. On the west General Worth had
reached the Saltillo road after some fighting but without heavy
loss. He turned from his new position and captured the forts on
both heights in that quarter. This gave him possession of the upper
or west end of Monterey. Troops from both Twiggs’s and Butler’s
divisions were in possession of the east end of the town, but the
Black Fort to the north of the town and the plaza in the centre
were still in the possession of the enemy. Our camps at Walnut
Springs, three miles away, were guarded by a company from each
regiment. A regiment of Kentucky volunteers guarded the mortars and
howitzers engaged against Black Fort. Practically Monterey was
invested.

There was nothing done on the 22d by the United States troops;
but the enemy kept up a harmless fire upon us from Black Fort and
the batteries still in their possession at the east end of the
city. During the night they evacuated these; so that on the morning
of the 23d we held undisputed possession of the east end of
Monterey.

Twiggs’s division was at the lower end of the city, and well
covered from the fire of the enemy. But the streets leading to the
plaza—all Spanish or Spanish-American towns have near their
centres a square called a plaza—were commanded from all
directions by artillery. The houses were flat-roofed and but one or
two stories high, and about the plaza the roofs were manned with
infantry, the troops being protected from our fire by parapets made
of sand-bags. All advances into the city were thus attended with
much danger. While moving along streets which did not lead to the
plaza, our men were protected from the fire, and from the view, of
the enemy except at the crossings; but at these a volley of
musketry and a discharge of grape-shot were invariably encountered.
The 3d and 4th regiments of infantry made an advance nearly to the
plaza in this way and with heavy loss. The loss of the 3d infantry
in commissioned officers was especially severe. There were only
five companies of the regiment and not over twelve officers
present, and five of these officers were killed. When within a
square of the plaza this small command, ten companies in all, was
brought to a halt. Placing themselves under cover from the shots of
the enemy, the men would watch to detect a head above the sand-bags
on the neighboring houses. The exposure of a single head would
bring a volley from our soldiers.

We had not occupied this position long when it was discovered
that our ammunition was growing low. I volunteered to go back to
the point we had started from, report our position to General
Twiggs, and ask for ammunition to be forwarded.

[General Garland expressed a wish to get a message back
to General Twiggs, his division commander, or General Taylor, to
the effect that he was nearly out of ammunition and must have more
sent to him, or otherwise be reinforced. Deeming the return
dangerous he did not like to order any one to carry it, so he
called for a volunteer. Lieutenant Grant offered his services,
which were accepted.—PUBLISHERS.]

We were at this time occupying ground off from the street, in
rear of the houses. My ride back was an exposed one. Before
starting I adjusted myself on the side of my horse furthest from
the enemy, and with only one foot holding to the cantle of the
saddle, and an arm over the neck of the horse exposed, I started at
full run. It was only at street crossings that my horse was under
fire, but these I crossed at such a flying rate that generally I
was past and under cover of the next block of houses before the
enemy fired. I got out safely without a scratch.

At one place on my ride, I saw a sentry walking in front of a
house, and stopped to inquire what he was doing there. Finding that
the house was full of wounded American officers and soldiers, I
dismounted and went in. I found there Captain Williams, of the
Engineer Corps, wounded in the head, probably fatally, and
Lieutenant Territt, also badly wounded his bowels protruding from
his wound. There were quite a number of soldiers also. Promising
them to report their situation, I left, readjusted myself to my
horse, recommenced the run, and was soon with the troops at the
east end. Before ammunition could be collected, the two regiments I
had been with were seen returning, running the same gauntlet in
getting out that they had passed in going in, but with
comparatively little loss. The movement was countermanded and the
troops were withdrawn. The poor wounded officers and men I had
found, fell into the hands of the enemy during the night, and
died.

While this was going on at the east, General Worth, with a small
division of troops, was advancing towards the plaza from the
opposite end of the city. He resorted to a better expedient for
getting to the plaza—the citadel—than we did on the
east. Instead of moving by the open streets, he advanced through
the houses, cutting passageways from one to another. Without much
loss of life, he got so near the plaza during the night that before
morning, Ampudia, the Mexican commander, made overtures for the
surrender of the city and garrison. This stopped all further
hostilities. The terms of surrender were soon agreed upon. The
prisoners were paroled and permitted to take their horses and
personal property with them.

My pity was aroused by the sight of the Mexican garrison of
Monterey marching out of town as prisoners, and no doubt the same
feeling was experienced by most of our army who witnessed it. Many
of the prisoners were cavalry, armed with lances, and mounted on
miserable little half-starved horses that did not look as if they
could carry their riders out of town. The men looked in but little
better condition. I thought how little interest the men before me
had in the results of the war, and how little knowledge they had of
“what it was all about.”

After the surrender of the garrison of Monterey a quiet camp
life was led until midwinter. As had been the case on the Rio
Grande, the people who remained at their homes fraternized with the
“Yankees” in the pleasantest manner. In fact, under the humane
policy of our commander, I question whether the great majority of
the Mexican people did not regret our departure as much as they had
regretted our coming. Property and person were thoroughly
protected, and a market was afforded for all the products of the
country such as the people had never enjoyed before. The educated
and wealthy portion of the population here, as elsewhere, abandoned
their homes and remained away from them as long as they were in the
possession of the invaders; but this class formed a very small
percentage of the whole population.

CHAPTER IX.

POLITICAL INTRIGUE—BUENA VISTA—MOVEMENT AGAINST
VERA CRUZ—SIEGE AND CAPTURE OF VERA CRUZ.

The Mexican war was a political war, and the administration
conducting it desired to make party capital out of it. General
Scott was at the head of the army, and, being a soldier of
acknowledged professional capacity, his claim to the command of the
forces in the field was almost indisputable and does not seem to
have been denied by President Polk, or Marcy, his Secretary of War.
Scott was a Whig and the administration was democratic. General
Scott was also known to have political aspirations, and nothing so
popularizes a candidate for high civil positions as military
victories. It would not do therefore to give him command of the
“army of conquest.” The plans submitted by Scott for a campaign in
Mexico were disapproved by the administration, and he replied, in a
tone possibly a little disrespectful, to the effect that, if a
soldier’s plans were not to be supported by the administration,
success could not be expected. This was on the 27th of May, 1846.
Four days later General Scott was notified that he need not go to
Mexico. General Gaines was next in rank, but he was too old and
feeble to take the field. Colonel Zachary Taylor—a
brigadier-general by brevet—was therefore left in command.
He, too, was a Whig, but was not supposed to entertain any
political ambitions; nor did he; but after the fall of Monterey,
his third battle and third complete victory, the Whig papers at
home began to speak of him as the candidate of their party for the
Presidency. Something had to be done to neutralize his growing
popularity. He could not be relieved from duty in the field where
all his battles had been victories: the design would have been too
transparent. It was finally decided to send General Scott to Mexico
in chief command, and to authorize him to carry out his own
original plan: that is, capture Vera Cruz and march upon the
capital of the country. It was no doubt supposed that Scott’s
ambition would lead him to slaughter Taylor or destroy his chances
for the Presidency, and yet it was hoped that he would not make
sufficient capital himself to secure the prize.

The administration had indeed a most embarrassing problem to
solve. It was engaged in a war of conquest which must be carried to
a successful issue, or the political object would be unattained.
Yet all the capable officers of the requisite rank belonged to the
opposition, and the man selected for his lack of political ambition
had himself become a prominent candidate for the Presidency. It was
necessary to destroy his chances promptly. The problem was to do
this without the loss of conquest and without permitting another
general of the same political party to acquire like popularity. The
fact is, the administration of Mr. Polk made every preparation to
disgrace Scott, or, to speak more correctly, to drive him to such
desperation that he would disgrace himself.

General Scott had opposed conquest by the way of the Rio Grande,
Matamoras and Saltillo from the first. Now that he was in command
of all the forces in Mexico, he withdrew from Taylor most of his
regular troops and left him only enough volunteers, as he thought,
to hold the line then in possession of the invading army. Indeed
Scott did not deem it important to hold anything beyond the Rio
Grande, and authorized Taylor to fall back to that line if he
chose. General Taylor protested against the depletion of his army,
and his subsequent movement upon Buena Vista would indicate that he
did not share the views of his chief in regard to the unimportance
of conquest beyond the Rio Grande.

Scott had estimated the men and material that would be required
to capture Vera Cruz and to march on the capital of the country,
two hundred and sixty miles in the interior. He was promised all he
asked and seemed to have not only the confidence of the President,
but his sincere good wishes. The promises were all broken. Only
about half the troops were furnished that had been pledged, other
war material was withheld and Scott had scarcely started for Mexico
before the President undertook to supersede him by the appointment
of Senator Thomas H. Benton as lieutenant-general. This being
refused by Congress, the President asked legislative authority to
place a junior over a senior of the same grade, with the view of
appointing Benton to the rank of major-general and then placing him
in command of the army, but Congress failed to accede to this
proposition as well, and Scott remained in command: but every
general appointed to serve under him was politically opposed to the
chief, and several were personally hostile.

General Scott reached Brazos Santiago or Point Isabel, at the
mouth of the Rio Grande, late in December, 1846, and proceeded at
once up the river to Camargo, where he had written General Taylor
to meet him. Taylor, however, had gone to, or towards Tampico, for
the purpose of establishing a post there. He had started on this
march before he was aware of General Scott being in the country.
Under these circumstances Scott had to issue his orders designating
the troops to be withdrawn from Taylor, without the personal
consultation he had expected to hold with his subordinate.

General Taylor’s victory at Buena Vista, February 22d, 23d, and
24th, 1847, with an army composed almost entirely of volunteers who
had not been in battle before, and over a vastly superior force
numerically, made his nomination for the Presidency by the Whigs a
foregone conclusion. He was nominated and elected in 1848. I
believe that he sincerely regretted this turn in his fortunes,
preferring the peace afforded by a quiet life free from abuse to
the honor of filling the highest office in the gift of any people,
the Presidency of the United States.

When General Scott assumed command of the army of invasion, I
was in the division of General David Twiggs, in Taylor’s command;
but under the new orders my regiment was transferred to the
division of General William Worth, in which I served to the close
of the war. The troops withdrawn from Taylor to form part of the
forces to operate against Vera Cruz, were assembled at the mouth of
the Rio Grande preparatory to embarkation for their destination. I
found General Worth a different man from any I had before served
directly under. He was nervous, impatient and restless on the
march, or when important or responsible duty confronted him. There
was not the least reason for haste on the march, for it was known
that it would take weeks to assemble shipping enough at the point
of our embarkation to carry the army, but General Worth moved his
division with a rapidity that would have been commendable had he
been going to the relief of a beleaguered garrison. The length of
the marches was regulated by the distances between places affording
a supply of water for the troops, and these distances were
sometimes long and sometimes short. General Worth on one occasion
at least, after having made the full distance intended for the day,
and after the troops were in camp and preparing their food, ordered
tents struck and made the march that night which had been intended
for the next day. Some commanders can move troops so as to get the
maximum distance out of them without fatigue, while others can wear
them out in a few days without accomplishing so much. General Worth
belonged to this latter class. He enjoyed, however, a fine
reputation for his fighting qualities, and thus attached his
officers and men to him.

The army lay in camp upon the sand-beach in the neighborhood of
the mouth of the Rio Grande for several weeks, awaiting the arrival
of transports to carry it to its new field of operations. The
transports were all sailing vessels. The passage was a tedious one,
and many of the troops were on shipboard over thirty days from the
embarkation at the mouth of the Rio Grande to the time of
debarkation south of Vera Cruz. The trip was a comfortless one for
officers and men. The transports used were built for carrying
freight and possessed but limited accommodations for passengers,
and the climate added to the discomfort of all.

The transports with troops were assembled in the harbor of Anton
Lizardo, some sixteen miles south of Vera Cruz, as they arrived,
and there awaited the remainder of the fleet, bringing artillery,
ammunition and supplies of all kinds from the North. With the fleet
there was a little steam propeller dispatch-boat—the first
vessel of the kind I had ever seen, and probably the first of its
kind ever seen by any one then with the army. At that day ocean
steamers were rare, and what there were were sidewheelers. This
little vessel, going through the fleet so fast, so noiselessly and
with its propeller under water out of view, attracted a great deal
of attention. I recollect that Lieutenant Sidney Smith, of the 4th
infantry, by whom I happened to be standing on the deck of a vessel
when this propeller was passing, exclaimed, “Why, the thing looks
as if it was propelled by the force of circumstances.”

Finally on the 7th of March, 1847, the little army of ten or
twelve thousand men, given Scott to invade a country with a
population of seven or eight millions, a mountainous country
affording the greatest possible natural advantages for defence, was
all assembled and ready to commence the perilous task of landing
from vessels lying in the open sea.

The debarkation took place inside of the little island of
Sacrificios, some three miles south of Vera Cruz. The vessels could
not get anywhere near shore, so that everything had to be landed in
lighters or surf-boats; General Scott had provided these before
leaving the North. The breakers were sometimes high, so that the
landing was tedious. The men were got ashore rapidly, because they
could wade when they came to shallow water; but the camp and
garrison equipage, provisions, ammunition and all stores had to be
protected from the salt water, and therefore their landing took
several days. The Mexicans were very kind to us, however, and threw
no obstacles in the way of our landing except an occasional shot
from their nearest fort. During the debarkation one shot took off
the head of Major Albertis. No other, I believe, reached anywhere
near the same distance. On the 9th of March the troops were landed
and the investment of Vera Cruz, from the Gulf of Mexico south of
the city to the Gulf again on the north, was soon and easily
effected. The landing of stores was continued until everything was
got ashore.

Vera Cruz, at the time of which I write and up to 1880, was a
walled city. The wall extended from the water’s edge south of the
town to the water again on the north. There were fortifications at
intervals along the line and at the angles. In front of the city,
and on an island half a mile out in the Gulf, stands San Juan de
Ulloa, an enclosed fortification of large dimensions and great
strength for that period. Against artillery of the present day the
land forts and walls would prove elements of weakness rather than
strength. After the invading army had established their camps out
of range of the fire from the city, batteries were established,
under cover of night, far to the front of the line where the troops
lay. These batteries were intrenched and the approaches
sufficiently protected. If a sortie had been made at any time by
the Mexicans, the men serving the batteries could have been quickly
reinforced without great exposure to the fire from the enemy’s main
line. No serious attempt was made to capture the batteries or to
drive our troops away.

The siege continued with brisk firing on our side till the 27th
of March, by which time a considerable breach had been made in the
wall surrounding the city. Upon this General Morales, who was
Governor of both the city and of San Juan de Ulloa, commenced a
correspondence with General Scott looking to the surrender of the
town, forts and garrison. On the 29th Vera Cruz and San Juan de
Ulloa were occupied by Scott’s army. About five thousand prisoners
and four hundred pieces of artillery, besides large amounts of
small arms and ammunition, fell into the hands of the victorious
force. The casualties on our side during the siege amounted to
sixty-four officers and men, killed and wounded.

CHAPTER X.

MARCH TO JALAPA—BATTLE OF CERRO
GORDO—PEROTE—PUEBLA—SCOTT AND TAYLOR.

General Scott had less than twelve thousand men at Vera Cruz. He
had been promised by the administration a very much larger force,
or claimed that he had, and he was a man of veracity. Twelve
thousand was a very small army with which to penetrate two hundred
and sixty miles into an enemy’s country, and to besiege the
capital; a city, at that time, of largely over one hundred thousand
inhabitants. Then, too, any line of march that could be selected
led through mountain passes easily defended. In fact, there were at
that time but two roads from Vera Cruz to the City of Mexico that
could be taken by an army; one by Jalapa and Perote, the other by
Cordova and Orizaba, the two coming together on the great plain
which extends to the City of Mexico after the range of mountains is
passed.

It was very important to get the army away from Vera Cruz as
soon as possible, in order to avoid the yellow fever, or vomito,
which usually visits that city early in the year, and is very fatal
to persons not acclimated; but transportation, which was expected
from the North, was arriving very slowly. It was absolutely
necessary to have enough to supply the army to Jalapa, sixty-five
miles in the interior and above the fevers of the coast. At that
point the country is fertile, and an army of the size of General
Scott’s could subsist there for an indefinite period. Not counting
the sick, the weak and the garrisons for the captured city and
fort, the moving column was now less than ten thousand strong. This
force was composed of three divisions, under Generals Twiggs,
Patterson, and Worth. The importance of escaping the vomito was so
great that as soon as transportation enough could be got together
to move a division the advance was commenced. On the 8th of April,
Twiggs’s division started for Jalapa. He was followed very soon by
Patterson, with his division. General Worth was to bring up the
rear with his command as soon as transportation enough was
assembled to carry six days’ rations for his troops with the
necessary ammunition and camp and garrison equipage. It was the
13th of April before this division left Vera Cruz.

The leading division ran against the enemy at Cerro Gordo, some
fifty miles west, on the road to Jalapa, and went into camp at Plan
del Rio, about three miles from the fortifications. General
Patterson reached Plan del Rio with his division soon after Twiggs
arrived. The two were then secure against an attack from Santa
Anna, who commanded the Mexican forces. At all events they
confronted the enemy without reinforcements and without
molestation, until the 18th of April. General Scott had remained at
Vera Cruz to hasten preparations for the field; but on the 12th,
learning the situation at the front, he hastened on to take
personal supervision. He at once commenced his preparations for the
capture of the position held by Santa Anna and of the troops
holding it.

Cerro Gordo is one of the higher spurs of the mountains some
twelve to fifteen miles east of Jalapa, and Santa Anna had selected
this point as the easiest to defend against an invading army. The
road, said to have been built by Cortez, zigzags around the
mountain-side and was defended at every turn by artillery. On
either side were deep chasms or mountain walls. A direct attack
along the road was an impossibility. A flank movement seemed
equally impossible. After the arrival of the commanding-general
upon the scene, reconnoissances were sent out to find, or to make,
a road by which the rear of the enemy’s works might be reached
without a front attack. These reconnoissances were made under the
supervision of Captain Robert E. Lee, assisted by Lieutenants P. G.
T. Beauregard, Isaac I. Stevens, Z. B. Tower, G. W. Smith, George
B. McClellan, and J. G. Foster, of the corps of engineers, all
officers who attained rank and fame, on one side or the other, in
the great conflict for the preservation of the unity of the nation.
The reconnoissance was completed, and the labor of cutting out and
making roads by the flank of the enemy was effected by the 17th of
the month. This was accomplished without the knowledge of Santa
Anna or his army, and over ground where he supposed it impossible.
On the same day General Scott issued his order for the attack on
the 18th.

The attack was made as ordered, and perhaps there was not a
battle of the Mexican war, or of any other, where orders issued
before an engagement were nearer being a correct report of what
afterwards took place. Under the supervision of the engineers,
roadways had been opened over chasms to the right where the walls
were so steep that men could barely climb them. Animals could not.
These had been opened under cover of night, without attracting the
notice of the enemy. The engineers, who had directed the opening,
led the way and the troops followed. Artillery was let down the
steep slopes by hand, the men engaged attaching a strong rope to
the rear axle and letting the guns down, a piece at a time, while
the men at the ropes kept their ground on top, paying out
gradually, while a few at the front directed the course of the
piece. In like manner the guns were drawn by hand up the opposite
slopes. In this way Scott’s troops reached their assigned position
in rear of most of the intrenchments of the enemy, unobserved. The
attack was made, the Mexican reserves behind the works beat a hasty
retreat, and those occupying them surrendered. On the left General
Pillow’s command made a formidable demonstration, which doubtless
held a part of the enemy in his front and contributed to the
victory. I am not pretending to give full details of all the
battles fought, but of the portion that I saw. There were troops
engaged on both sides at other points in which both sustained
losses; but the battle was won as here narrated.

The surprise of the enemy was complete, the victory
overwhelming; some three thousand prisoners fell into Scott’s
hands, also a large amount of ordnance and ordnance stores. The
prisoners were paroled, the artillery parked and the small arms and
ammunition destroyed. The battle of Buena Vista was probably very
important to the success of General Scott at Cerro Gordo and in his
entire campaign from Vera Cruz to the great plains reaching to the
City of Mexico. The only army Santa Anna had to protect his capital
and the mountain passes west of Vera Cruz, was the one he had with
him confronting General Taylor. It is not likely that he would have
gone as far north as Monterey to attack the United States troops
when he knew his country was threatened with invasion further
south. When Taylor moved to Saltillo and then advanced on to Buena
Vista, Santa Anna crossed the desert confronting the invading army,
hoping no doubt to crush it and get back in time to meet General
Scott in the mountain passes west of Vera Cruz. His attack on
Taylor was disastrous to the Mexican army, but, notwithstanding
this, he marched his army to Cerro Gordo, a distance not much short
of one thousand miles by the line he had to travel, in time to
intrench himself well before Scott got there. If he had been
successful at Buena Vista his troops would no doubt have made a
more stubborn resistance at Cerro Gordo. Had the battle of Buena
Vista not been fought Santa Anna would have had time to move
leisurely to meet the invader further south and with an army not
demoralized nor depleted by defeat.

After the battle the victorious army moved on to Jalapa, where
it was in a beautiful, productive and healthy country, far above
the fevers of the coast. Jalapa, however, is still in the
mountains, and between there and the great plain the whole line of
the road is easy of defence. It was important, therefore, to get
possession of the great highway between the sea-coast and the
capital up to the point where it leaves the mountains, before the
enemy could have time to re-organize and fortify in our front.
Worth’s division was selected to go forward to secure this result.
The division marched to Perote on the great plain, not far from
where the road debouches from the mountains. There is a low, strong
fort on the plain in front of the town, known as the Castle of
Perote. This, however, offered no resistance and fell into our
hands, with its armament.

General Scott having now only nine or ten thousand men west of
Vera Cruz, and the time of some four thousand of them being about
to expire, a long delay was the consequence. The troops were in a
healthy climate, and where they could subsist for an indefinite
period even if their line back to Vera Cruz should be cut off. It
being ascertained that the men whose time would expire before the
City of Mexico could possibly fall into the hands of the American
army, would not remain beyond the term for which they had
volunteered, the commanding-general determined to discharge them at
once, for a delay until the expiration of their time would have
compelled them to pass through Vera Cruz during the season of the
vomito. This reduced Scott’s force in the field to about five
thousand men.

Early in May, Worth, with his division, left Perote and marched
on to Puebla. The roads were wide and the country open except
through one pass in a spur of mountains coming up from the south,
through which the road runs. Notwithstanding this the small column
was divided into two bodies, moving a day apart. Nothing occurred
on the march of special note, except that while lying at the town
of Amozoque—an easy day’s march east of Puebla—a body
of the enemy’s cavalry, two or three thousand strong, was seen to
our right, not more than a mile away. A battery or two, with two or
three infantry regiments, was sent against them and they soon
disappeared. On the 15th of May we entered the city of Puebla.

General Worth was in command at Puebla until the latter end of
May, when General Scott arrived. Here, as well as on the march up,
his restlessness, particularly under responsibilities, showed
itself. During his brief command he had the enemy hovering around
near the city, in vastly superior numbers to his own. The brigade
to which I was attached changed quarters three different times in
about a week, occupying at first quarters near the plaza, in the
heart of the city; then at the western entrance; then at the
extreme east. On one occasion General Worth had the troops in line,
under arms, all day, with three days’ cooked rations in their
haversacks. He galloped from one command to another proclaiming the
near proximity of Santa Anna with an army vastly superior to his
own. General Scott arrived upon the scene the latter part of the
month, and nothing more was heard of Santa Anna and his myriads.
There were, of course, bodies of mounted Mexicans hovering around
to watch our movements and to pick up stragglers, or small bodies
of troops, if they ventured too far out. These always withdrew on
the approach of any considerable number of our soldiers. After the
arrival of General Scott I was sent, as quartermaster, with a large
train of wagons, back two days’ march at least, to procure forage.
We had less than a thousand men as escort, and never thought of
danger. We procured full loads for our entire train at two
plantations, which could easily have furnished as much more.

There had been great delay in obtaining the authority of
Congress for the raising of the troops asked for by the
administration. A bill was before the National Legislature from
early in the session of 1846-7, authorizing the creation of ten
additional regiments for the war to be attached to the regular
army, but it was the middle of February before it became a law.
Appointments of commissioned officers had then to be made; men had
to be enlisted, the regiments equipped and the whole transported to
Mexico. It was August before General Scott received reinforcement
sufficient to warrant an advance. His moving column, not even now
more than ten thousand strong, was in four divisions, commanded by
Generals Twiggs, Worth, Pillow and Quitman. There was also a
cavalry corps under General Harney, composed of detachments of the
1st, 2d, and 3d dragoons. The advance commenced on the 7th of
August with Twiggs’s division in front. The remaining three
divisions followed, with an interval of a day between. The marches
were short, to make concentration easier in case of attack.

I had now been in battle with the two leading commanders
conducting armies in a foreign land. The contrast between the two
was very marked. General Taylor never wore uniform, but dressed
himself entirely for comfort. He moved about the field in which he
was operating to see through his own eyes the situation. Often he
would be without staff officers, and when he was accompanied by
them there was no prescribed order in which they followed. He was
very much given to sit his horse side-ways—with both feet on
one side—particularly on the battlefield. General Scott was
the reverse in all these particulars. He always wore all the
uniform prescribed or allowed by law when he inspected his lines;
word would be sent to all division and brigade commanders in
advance, notifying them of the hour when the commanding general
might be expected. This was done so that all the army might be
under arms to salute their chief as he passed. On these occasions
he wore his dress uniform, cocked hat, aiguillettes, sabre and
spurs. His staff proper, besides all officers constructively on his
staff—engineers, inspectors, quartermasters, etc., that could
be spared—followed, also in uniform and in prescribed order.
Orders were prepared with great care and evidently with the view
that they should be a history of what followed.

In their modes of expressing thought, these two generals
contrasted quite as strongly as in their other characteristics.
General Scott was precise in language, cultivated a style
peculiarly his own; was proud of his rhetoric; not averse to
speaking of himself, often in the third person, and he could bestow
praise upon the person he was talking about without the least
embarrassment. Taylor was not a conversationalist, but on paper he
could put his meaning so plainly that there could be no mistaking
it. He knew how to express what he wanted to say in the fewest
well-chosen words, but would not sacrifice meaning to the
construction of high-sounding sentences. But with their opposite
characteristics both were great and successful soldiers; both were
true, patriotic and upright in all their dealings. Both were
pleasant to serve under—Taylor was pleasant to serve with.
Scott saw more through the eyes of his staff officers than through
his own. His plans were deliberately prepared, and fully expressed
in orders. Taylor saw for himself, and gave orders to meet the
emergency without reference to how they would read in history.

CHAPTER XI.

ADVANCE ON THE CITY OF MEXICO—BATTLE OF
CONTRERAS—ASSAULT AT CHURUBUSCO—NEGOTIATIONS FOR
PEACE—BATTLE OF MOLINO DEL REY—STORMING OF
CHAPULTEPEC—SAN COSME—EVACUATION OF THE
CITY—HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS.

The route followed by the army from Puebla to the City of Mexico
was over Rio Frio mountain, the road leading over which, at the
highest point, is about eleven thousand feet above tide water. The
pass through this mountain might have been easily defended, but it
was not; and the advanced division reached the summit in three days
after leaving Puebla. The City of Mexico lies west of Rio Frio
mountain, on a plain backed by another mountain six miles farther
west, with others still nearer on the north and south. Between the
western base of Rio Frio and the City of Mexico there are three
lakes, Chalco and Xochimilco on the left and Texcoco on the right,
extending to the east end of the City of Mexico. Chalco and Texcoco
are divided by a narrow strip of land over which the direct road to
the city runs. Xochimilco is also to the left of the road, but at a
considerable distance south of it, and is connected with Lake
Chalco by a narrow channel. There is a high rocky mound, called El
Penon, on the right of the road, springing up from the low flat
ground dividing the lakes. This mound was strengthened by
intrenchments at its base and summit, and rendered a direct attack
impracticable.

Scott’s army was rapidly concentrated about Ayotla and other
points near the eastern end of Lake Chalco. Reconnoissances were
made up to within gun-shot of El Penon, while engineers were
seeking a route by the south side of Lake Chalco to flank the city,
and come upon it from the south and south-west. A way was found
around the lake, and by the 18th of August troops were in St.
Augustin Tlalpam, a town about eleven miles due south from the
plaza of the capital. Between St. Augustin Tlalpam and the city lie
the hacienda of San Antonio and the village of Churubusco, and
south-west of them is Contreras. All these points, except St.
Augustin Tlalpam, were intrenched and strongly garrisoned.
Contreras is situated on the side of a mountain, near its base,
where volcanic rocks are piled in great confusion, reaching nearly
to San Antonio. This made the approach to the city from the south
very difficult.

The brigade to which I was attached—Garland’s, of Worth’s
division—was sent to confront San Antonio, two or three miles
from St. Augustin Tlalpam, on the road to Churubusco and the City
of Mexico. The ground on which San Antonio stands is completely in
the valley, and the surface of the land is only a little above the
level of the lakes, and, except to the south-west, it was cut up by
deep ditches filled with water. To the south-west is the
Pedregal—the volcanic rock before spoken of—over which
cavalry or artillery could not be passed, and infantry would make
but poor progress if confronted by an enemy. From the position
occupied by Garland’s brigade, therefore, no movement could be made
against the defences of San Antonio except to the front, and by a
narrow causeway, over perfectly level ground, every inch of which
was commanded by the enemy’s artillery and infantry. If Contreras,
some three miles west and south, should fall into our hands, troops
from there could move to the right flank of all the positions held
by the enemy between us and the city. Under these circumstances
General Scott directed the holding of the front of the enemy
without making an attack until further orders.

On the 18th of August, the day of reaching San Augustin Tlalpam,
Garland’s brigade secured a position within easy range of the
advanced intrenchments of San Antonio, but where his troops were
protected by an artificial embankment that had been thrown up for
some other purpose than defense. General Scott at once set his
engineers reconnoitring the works about Contreras, and on the 19th
movements were commenced to get troops into positions from which an
assault could be made upon the force occupying that place. The
Pedregal on the north and north-east, and the mountain on the
south, made the passage by either flank of the enemy’s defences
difficult, for their work stood exactly between those natural
bulwarks; but a road was completed during the day and night of the
19th, and troops were got to the north and west of the enemy.

This affair, like that of Cerro Gordo, was an engagement in
which the officers of the engineer corps won special distinction.
In fact, in both cases, tasks which seemed difficult at first sight
were made easier for the troops that had to execute them than they
would have been on an ordinary field. The very strength of each of
these positions was, by the skill of the engineers, converted into
a defence for the assaulting parties while securing their positions
for final attack. All the troops with General Scott in the valley
of Mexico, except a part of the division of General Quitman at San
Augustin Tlalpam and the brigade of Garland (Worth’s division) at
San Antonio, were engaged at the battle of Contreras, or were on
their way, in obedience to the orders of their chief, to reinforce
those who were engaged. The assault was made on the morning of the
20th, and in less than half an hour from the sound of the advance
the position was in our hands, with many prisoners and large
quantities of ordnance and other stores. The brigade commanded by
General Riley was from its position the most conspicuous in the
final assault, but all did well, volunteers and regulars.

From the point occupied by Garland’s brigade we could see the
progress made at Contreras and the movement of troops toward the
flank and rear of the enemy opposing us. The Mexicans all the way
back to the city could see the same thing, and their conduct showed
plainly that they did not enjoy the sight. We moved out at once,
and found them gone from our immediate front. Clarke’s brigade of
Worth’s division now moved west over the point of the Pedregal, and
after having passed to the north sufficiently to clear San Antonio,
turned east and got on the causeway leading to Churubusco and the
City of Mexico. When he approached Churubusco his left, under
Colonel Hoffman, attacked a tete-de-pont at that place and brought
on an engagement. About an hour after, Garland was ordered to
advance directly along the causeway, and got up in time to take
part in the engagement. San Antonio was found evacuated, the
evacuation having probably taken place immediately upon the enemy
seeing the stars and stripes waving over Contreras.

The troops that had been engaged at Contreras, and even then on
their way to that battle-field, were moved by a causeway west of,
and parallel to the one by way of San Antonio and Churubusco. It
was expected by the commanding general that these troops would move
north sufficiently far to flank the enemy out of his position at
Churubusco, before turning east to reach the San Antonio road, but
they did not succeed in this, and Churubusco proved to be about the
severest battle fought in the valley of Mexico. General Scott
coming upon the battle-field about this juncture, ordered two
brigades, under Shields, to move north and turn the right of the
enemy. This Shields did, but not without hard fighting and heavy
loss. The enemy finally gave way, leaving in our hands prisoners,
artillery and small arms. The balance of the causeway held by the
enemy, up to the very gates of the city, fell in like manner. I
recollect at this place that some of the gunners who had stood
their ground, were deserters from General Taylor’s army on the Rio
Grande.

Both the strategy and tactics displayed by General Scott in
these various engagements of the 20th of August, 1847, were
faultless as I look upon them now, after the lapse of so many
years. As before stated, the work of the engineer officers who made
the reconnoissances and led the different commands to their
destinations, was so perfect that the chief was able to give his
orders to his various subordinates with all the precision he could
use on an ordinary march. I mean, up to the points from which the
attack was to commence. After that point is reached the enemy often
induces a change of orders not before contemplated. The enemy
outside the city outnumbered our soldiery quite three to one, but
they had become so demoralized by the succession of defeats this
day, that the City of Mexico could have been entered without much
further bloodshed. In fact, Captain Philip Kearney—afterwards
a general in the war of the rebellion—rode with a squadron of
cavalry to the very gates of the city, and would no doubt have
entered with his little force, only at that point he was badly
wounded, as were several of his officers. He had not heard the call
for a halt.

General Franklin Pierce had joined the army in Mexico, at
Puebla, a short time before the advance upon the capital commenced.
He had consequently not been in any of the engagements of the war
up to the battle of Contreras. By an unfortunate fall of his horse
on the afternoon of the 19th he was painfully injured. The next
day, when his brigade, with the other troops engaged on the same
field, was ordered against the flank and rear of the enemy guarding
the different points of the road from San Augustin Tlalpam to the
city, General Pierce attempted to accompany them. He was not
sufficiently recovered to do so, and fainted. This circumstance
gave rise to exceedingly unfair and unjust criticisms of him when
he became a candidate for the Presidency. Whatever General Pierce’s
qualifications may have been for the Presidency, he was a gentleman
and a man of courage. I was not a supporter of him politically, but
I knew him more intimately than I did any other of the volunteer
generals.

General Scott abstained from entering the city at this time,
because Mr. Nicholas P. Trist, the commissioner on the part of the
United States to negotiate a treaty of peace with Mexico, was with
the army, and either he or General Scott thought—probably
both of them—that a treaty would be more possible while the
Mexican government was in possession of the capital than if it was
scattered and the capital in the hands of an invader. Be this as it
may, we did not enter at that time. The army took up positions
along the slopes of the mountains south of the city, as far west as
Tacubaya. Negotiations were at once entered into with Santa Anna,
who was then practically THE GOVERNMENT and the immediate commander
of all the troops engaged in defence of the country. A truce was
signed which denied to either party the right to strengthen its
position, or to receive reinforcements during the continuance of
the armistices, but authorized General Scott to draw supplies for
his army from the city in the meantime.

Negotiations were commenced at once and were kept up vigorously
between Mr. Trist and the commissioners appointed on the part of
Mexico, until the 2d of September. At that time Mr. Trist handed in
his ultimatum. Texas was to be given up absolutely by Mexico, and
New Mexico and California ceded to the United States for a
stipulated sum to be afterwards determined. I do not suppose Mr.
Trist had any discretion whatever in regard to boundaries. The war
was one of conquest, in the interest of an institution, and the
probabilities are that private instructions were for the
acquisition of territory out of which new States might be carved.
At all events the Mexicans felt so outraged at the terms proposed
that they commenced preparations for defence, without giving notice
of the termination of the armistice. The terms of the truce had
been violated before, when teams had been sent into the city to
bring out supplies for the army. The first train entering the city
was very severely threatened by a mob. This, however, was
apologized for by the authorities and all responsibility for it
denied; and thereafter, to avoid exciting the Mexican people and
soldiery, our teams with their escorts were sent in at night, when
the troops were in barracks and the citizens in bed. The
circumstance was overlooked and negotiations continued. As soon as
the news reached General Scott of the second violation of the
armistice, about the 4th of September, he wrote a vigorous note to
President Santa Anna, calling his attention to it, and, receiving
an unsatisfactory reply, declared the armistice at an end.

General Scott, with Worth’s division, was now occupying
Tacubaya, a village some four miles south-west of the City of
Mexico, and extending from the base up the mountain-side for the
distance of half a mile. More than a mile west, and also a little
above the plain, stands Molino del Rey. The mill is a long stone
structure, one story high and several hundred feet in length. At
the period of which I speak General Scott supposed a portion of the
mill to be used as a foundry for the casting of guns. This,
however, proved to be a mistake. It was valuable to the Mexicans
because of the quantity of grain it contained. The building is flat
roofed, and a line of sand-bags over the outer walls rendered the
top quite a formidable defence for infantry. Chapultepec is a mound
springing up from the plain to the height of probably three hundred
feet, and almost in a direct line between Molino del Rey and the
western part of the city. It was fortified both on the top and on
the rocky and precipitous sides.

The City of Mexico is supplied with water by two aqueducts,
resting on strong stone arches. One of these aqueducts draws its
supply of water from a mountain stream coming into it at or near
Molino del Rey, and runs north close to the west base of
Chapultepec; thence along the centre of a wide road, until it
reaches the road running east into the city by the Garita San
Cosme; from which point the aqueduct and road both run east to the
city. The second aqueduct starts from the east base of Chapultepec,
where it is fed by a spring, and runs north-east to the city. This
aqueduct, like the other, runs in the middle of a broad road-way,
thus leaving a space on each side. The arches supporting the
aqueduct afforded protection for advancing troops as well as to
those engaged defensively. At points on the San Cosme road parapets
were thrown across, with an embrasure for a single piece of
artillery in each. At the point where both road and aqueduct turn
at right angles from north to east, there was not only one of these
parapets supplied by one gun and infantry supports, but the houses
to the north of the San Cosme road, facing south and commanding a
view of the road back to Chapultepec, were covered with infantry,
protected by parapets made of sandbags. The roads leading to
garitas (the gates) San Cosme and Belen, by which these aqueducts
enter the city, were strongly intrenched. Deep, wide ditches,
filled with water, lined the sides of both roads. Such were the
defences of the City of Mexico in September, 1847, on the routes
over which General Scott entered.

Prior to the Mexican war General Scott had been very partial to
General Worth—indeed he continued so up to the close of
hostilities—but, for some reason, Worth had become estranged
from his chief. Scott evidently took this coldness somewhat to
heart. He did not retaliate, however, but on the contrary showed
every disposition to appease his subordinate. It was understood at
the time that he gave Worth authority to plan and execute the
battle of Molino del Rey without dictation or interference from any
one, for the very purpose of restoring their former relations. The
effort failed, and the two generals remained ever after cold and
indifferent towards each other, if not actually hostile.

The battle of Molino del Rey was fought on the 8th of September.
The night of the 7th, Worth sent for his brigade and regimental
commanders, with their staffs, to come to his quarters to receive
instructions for the morrow. These orders contemplated a movement
up to within striking distance of the Mills before daylight. The
engineers had reconnoitred the ground as well as possible, and had
acquired all the information necessary to base proper orders both
for approach and attack.

By daylight on the morning of the 8th, the troops to be engaged
at Molino were all at the places designated. The ground in front of
the Mills, to the south, was commanded by the artillery from the
summit of Chapultepec as well as by the lighter batteries at hand;
but a charge was made, and soon all was over. Worth’s troops
entered the Mills by every door, and the enemy beat a hasty retreat
back to Chapultepec. Had this victory been followed up promptly, no
doubt Americans and Mexicans would have gone over the defences of
Chapultepec so near together that the place would have fallen into
our hands without further loss. The defenders of the works could
not have fired upon us without endangering their own men. This was
not done, and five days later more valuable lives were sacrificed
to carry works which had been so nearly in our possession on the
8th. I do not criticise the failure to capture Chapultepec at this
time. The result that followed the first assault could not possibly
have been foreseen, and to profit by the unexpected advantage, the
commanding general must have been on the spot and given the
necessary instructions at the moment, or the troops must have kept
on without orders. It is always, however, in order to follow a
retreating foe, unless stopped or otherwise directed. The loss on
our side at Molino del Rey was severe for the numbers engaged. It
was especially so among commissioned officers.

I was with the earliest of the troops to enter the Mills. In
passing through to the north side, looking towards Chapultepec, I
happened to notice that there were armed Mexicans still on top of
the building, only a few feet from many of our men. Not seeing any
stairway or ladder reaching to the top of the building, I took a
few soldiers, and had a cart that happened to be standing near
brought up, and, placing the shafts against the wall and chocking
the wheels so that the cart could not back, used the shafts as a
sort of ladder extending to within three or four feet of the top.
By this I climbed to the roof of the building, followed by a few
men, but found a private soldier had preceded me by some other way.
There were still quite a number of Mexicans on the roof, among them
a major and five or six officers of lower grades, who had not
succeeded in getting away before our troops occupied the building.
They still had their arms, while the soldier before mentioned was
walking as sentry, guarding the prisoners he had SURROUNDED, all by
himself. I halted the sentinel, received the swords from the
commissioned officers, and proceeded, with the assistance of the
soldiers now with me, to disable the muskets by striking them
against the edge of the wall, and throw them to the ground
below.

Molino del Rey was now captured, and the troops engaged, with
the exception of an appropriate guard over the captured position
and property, were marched back to their quarters in Tacubaya. The
engagement did not last many minutes, but the killed and wounded
were numerous for the number of troops engaged.

During the night of the 11th batteries were established which
could play upon the fortifications of Chapultepec. The bombardment
commenced early on the morning of the 12th, but there was no
further engagement during this day than that of the artillery.
General Scott assigned the capture of Chapultepec to General
Pillow, but did not leave the details to his judgment. Two
assaulting columns, two hundred and fifty men each, composed of
volunteers for the occasion, were formed. They were commanded by
Captains McKinzie and Casey respectively. The assault was
successful, but bloody.

In later years, if not at the time, the battles of Molino del
Rey and Chapultepec have seemed to me to have been wholly
unnecessary. When the assaults upon the garitas of San Cosme and
Belen were determined upon, the road running east to the former
gate could have been reached easily, without an engagement, by
moving along south of the Mills until west of them sufficiently far
to be out of range, thence north to the road above mentioned; or,
if desirable to keep the two attacking columns nearer together, the
troops could have been turned east so as to come on the aqueduct
road out of range of the guns from Chapultepec. In like manner, the
troops designated to act against Belen could have kept east of
Chapultepec, out of range, and come on to the aqueduct, also out of
range of Chapultepec. Molino del Rey and Chapultepec would both
have been necessarily evacuated if this course had been pursued,
for they would have been turned.

General Quitman, a volunteer from the State of Mississippi, who
stood well with the army both as a soldier and as a man, commanded
the column acting against Belen. General Worth commanded the column
against San Cosme. When Chapultepec fell the advance commenced
along the two aqueduct roads. I was on the road to San Cosme, and
witnessed most that took place on that route. When opposition was
encountered our troops sheltered themselves by keeping under the
arches supporting the aqueduct, advancing an arch at a time. We
encountered no serious obstruction until within gun-shot of the
point where the road we were on intersects that running east to the
city, the point where the aqueduct turns at a right angle. I have
described the defences of this position before. There were but
three commissioned officers besides myself, that I can now call to
mind, with the advance when the above position was reached. One of
these officers was a Lieutenant Semmes, of the Marine Corps. I
think Captain Gore, and Lieutenant Judah, of the 4th infantry, were
the others. Our progress was stopped for the time by the single
piece of artillery at the angle of the roads and the infantry
occupying the house-tops back from it.

West of the road from where we were, stood a house occupying the
south-west angle made by the San Cosme road and the road we were
moving upon. A stone wall ran from the house along each of these
roads for a considerable distance and thence back until it joined,
enclosing quite a yard about the house. I watched my opportunity
and skipped across the road and behind the south wall. Proceeding
cautiously to the west corner of the enclosure, I peeped around and
seeing nobody, continued, still cautiously, until the road running
east and west was reached. I then returned to the troops, and
called for volunteers. All that were close to me, or that heard me,
about a dozen, offered their services. Commanding them to carry
their arms at a trail, I watched our opportunity and got them
across the road and under cover of the wall beyond, before the
enemy had a shot at us. Our men under cover of the arches kept a
close watch on the intrenchments that crossed our path and the
house-tops beyond, and whenever a head showed itself above the
parapets they would fire at it. Our crossing was thus made
practicable without loss.

When we reached a safe position I instructed my little command
again to carry their arms at a trail, not to fire at the enemy
until they were ordered, and to move very cautiously following me
until the San Cosme road was reached; we would then be on the flank
of the men serving the gun on the road, and with no obstruction
between us and them. When we reached the south-west corner of the
enclosure before described, I saw some United States troops pushing
north through a shallow ditch near by, who had come up since my
reconnaissance. This was the company of Captain Horace Brooks, of
the artillery, acting as infantry. I explained to Brooks briefly
what I had discovered and what I was about to do. He said, as I
knew the ground and he did not, I might go on and he would follow.
As soon as we got on the road leading to the city the troops
serving the gun on the parapet retreated, and those on the
house-tops near by followed; our men went after them in such close
pursuit—the troops we had left under the arches
joining—that a second line across the road, about half-way
between the first and the garita, was carried. No reinforcements
had yet come up except Brooks’s company, and the position we had
taken was too advanced to be held by so small a force. It was given
up, but retaken later in the day, with some loss.

Worth’s command gradually advanced to the front now open to it.
Later in the day in reconnoitring I found a church off to the south
of the road, which looked to me as if the belfry would command the
ground back of the garita San Cosme. I got an officer of the
voltigeurs, with a mountain howitzer and men to work it, to go with
me. The road being in possession of the enemy, we had to take the
field to the south to reach the church. This took us over several
ditches breast deep in water and grown up with water plants. These
ditches, however, were not over eight or ten feet in width. The
howitzer was taken to pieces and carried by the men to its
destination. When I knocked for admission a priest came to the door
who, while extremely polite, declined to admit us. With the little
Spanish then at my command, I explained to him that he might save
property by opening the door, and he certainly would save himself
from becoming a prisoner, for a time at least; and besides, I
intended to go in whether he consented or not. He began to see his
duty in the same light that I did, and opened the door, though he
did not look as if it gave him special pleasure to do so. The gun
was carried to the belfry and put together. We were not more than
two or three hundred yards from San Cosme. The shots from our
little gun dropped in upon the enemy and created great confusion.
Why they did not send out a small party and capture us, I do not
know. We had no infantry or other defences besides our one gun.

The effect of this gun upon the troops about the gate of the
city was so marked that General Worth saw it from his position.

[Mentioned in the reports of Major Lee, Colonel Garland
and General Worth.—PUBLISHERS.]

He was so pleased that he sent a staff officer, Lieutenant
Pemberton—later Lieutenant-General commanding the defences of
Vicksburg—to bring me to him. He expressed his gratification
at the services the howitzer in the church steeple was doing,
saying that every shot was effective, and ordered a captain of
voltigeurs to report to me with another howitzer to be placed along
with the one already rendering so much service. I could not tell
the General that there was not room enough in the steeple for
another gun, because he probably would have looked upon such a
statement as a contradiction from a second lieutenant. I took the
captain with me, but did not use his gun.

The night of the 13th of September was spent by the troops under
General Worth in the houses near San Cosme, and in line confronting
the general line of the enemy across to Belen. The troops that I
was with were in the houses north of the road leading into the
city, and were engaged during the night in cutting passage-ways
from one house to another towards the town. During the night Santa
Anna, with his army—except the deserters—left the city.
He liberated all the convicts confined in the town, hoping, no
doubt, that they would inflict upon us some injury before daylight;
but several hours after Santa Anna was out of the way, the city
authorities sent a delegation to General Scott to ask—if not
demand—an armistice, respecting church property, the rights
of citizens and the supremacy of the city government in the
management of municipal affairs. General Scott declined to trammel
himself with conditions, but gave assurances that those who chose
to remain within our lines would be protected so long as they
behaved themselves properly.

General Quitman had advanced along his line very successfully on
the 13th, so that at night his command occupied nearly the same
position at Belen that Worth’s troops did about San Cosme. After
the interview above related between General Scott and the city
council, orders were issued for the cautious entry of both columns
in the morning. The troops under Worth were to stop at the Alameda,
a park near the west end of the city. Quitman was to go directly to
the Plaza, and take possession of the Palace—a mass of
buildings on the east side in which Congress has its sessions, the
national courts are held, the public offices are all located, the
President resides, and much room is left for museums, receptions,
etc. This is the building generally designated as the “Halls of the
Montezumas.”

CHAPTER XII.

PROMOTION TO FIRST LIEUTENANT—CAPTURE OF THE CITY OF
MEXICO—THE ARMY—MEXICAN SOLDIERS—PEACE
NEGOTIATIONS.

On entering the city the troops were fired upon by the released
convicts, and possibly by deserters and hostile citizens. The
streets were deserted, and the place presented the appearance of a
“city of the dead,” except for this firing by unseen persons from
house-tops, windows, and around corners. In this firing the
lieutenant-colonel of my regiment, Garland, was badly wounded,
Lieutenant Sidney Smith, of the 4th infantry, was also wounded
mortally. He died a few days after, and by his death I was promoted
to the grade of first lieutenant. I had gone into the battle of
Palo Alto in May, 1846, a second lieutenant, and I entered the city
of Mexico sixteen months later with the same rank, after having
been in all the engagements possible for any one man and in a
regiment that lost more officers during the war than it ever had
present at any one engagement. My regiment lost four commissioned
officers, all senior to me, by steamboat explosions during the
Mexican war. The Mexicans were not so discriminating. They
sometimes picked off my juniors.

General Scott soon followed the troops into the city, in state.
I wonder that he was not fired upon, but I believe he was not; at
all events he was not hurt. He took quarters at first in the “Halls
of the Montezumas,” and from there issued his wise and discreet
orders for the government of a conquered city, and for suppressing
the hostile acts of liberated convicts already spoken
of—orders which challenge the respect of all who study them.
Lawlessness was soon suppressed, and the City of Mexico settled
down into a quiet, law-abiding place. The people began to make
their appearance upon the streets without fear of the invaders.
Shortly afterwards the bulk of the troops were sent from the city
to the villages at the foot of the mountains, four or five miles to
the south and south-west.

NOTE.—It had been a favorite idea with General
Scott for a great many years before the Mexican war to have
established in the United States a soldiers’ home, patterned after
something of the kind abroad, particularly, I believe, in France.
He recommended this uniformly, or at least frequently, in his
annual reports to the Secretary of War, but never got any hearing.
Now, as he had conquered the state, he made assessments upon the
different large towns and cities occupied by our troops, in
proportion to their capacity to pay, and appointed officers to
receive the money. In addition to the sum thus realized he had
derived, through capture at Cerro Gordo, sales of captured
government tobacco, etc., sums which swelled the fund to a total of
about $220,000. Portions of this fund were distributed among the
rank and file, given to the wounded in hospital, or applied in
other ways, leaving a balance of some $118,000 remaining unapplied
at the close of the war. After the war was over and the troops all
home, General Scott applied to have this money, which had never
been turned into the Treasury of the United States, expended in
establishing such homes as he had previously recommended. This fund
was the foundation of the Soldiers’ Home at Washington City, and
also one at Harrodsburgh, Kentucky. The latter went into disuse
many years ago. In fact it never had many soldiers in it, and was,
I believe, finally sold.]

Whether General Scott approved of the Mexican war and the manner
in which it was brought about, I have no means of knowing. His
orders to troops indicate only a soldierly spirit, with probably a
little regard for the perpetuation of his own fame. On the other
hand, General Taylor’s, I think, indicate that he considered the
administration accountable for the war, and felt no responsibility
resting on himself further than for the faithful performance of his
duties. Both generals deserve the commendations of their countrymen
and to live in the grateful memory of this people to the latest
generation.

Earlier in this narrative I have stated that the plain, reached
after passing the mountains east of Perote, extends to the cities
of Puebla and Mexico. The route travelled by the army before
reaching Puebla, goes over a pass in a spur of mountain coming up
from the south. This pass is very susceptible of defence by a
smaller against a larger force. Again, the highest point of the
road-bed between Vera Cruz and the City of Mexico is over Rio Frio
mountain, which also might have been successfully defended by an
inferior against a superior force. But by moving north of the
mountains, and about thirty miles north of Puebla, both of these
passes would have been avoided. The road from Perote to the City of
Mexico, by this latter route, is as level as the prairies in our
West. Arriving due north from Puebla, troops could have been
detached to take possession of that place, and then proceeding west
with the rest of the army no mountain would have been encountered
before reaching the City of Mexico. It is true this road would have
brought troops in by Guadalupe—a town, church and detached
spur of mountain about two miles north of the capital, all bearing
the same general name—and at this point Lake Texcoco comes
near to the mountain, which was fortified both at the base and on
the sides: but troops could have passed north of the mountain and
come in only a few miles to the north-west, and so flanked the
position, as they actually did on the south.

It has always seemed to me that this northern route to the City
of Mexico, would have been the better one to have taken. But my
later experience has taught me two lessons: first, that things are
seen plainer after the events have occurred; second, that the most
confident critics are generally those who know the least about the
matter criticised. I know just enough about the Mexican war to
approve heartily of most of the generalship, but to differ with a
little of it. It is natural that an important city like Puebla
should not have been passed with contempt; it may be natural that
the direct road to it should have been taken; but it could have
been passed, its evacuation insured and possession acquired without
danger of encountering the enemy in intricate mountain defiles. In
this same way the City of Mexico could have been approached without
any danger of opposition, except in the open field.

But General Scott’s successes are an answer to all criticism. He
invaded a populous country, penetrating two hundred and sixty miles
into the interior, with a force at no time equal to one-half of
that opposed to him; he was without a base; the enemy was always
intrenched, always on the defensive; yet he won every battle, he
captured the capital, and conquered the government. Credit is due
to the troops engaged, it is true, but the plans and the strategy
were the general’s.

I had now made marches and been in battle under both General
Scott and General Taylor. The former divided his force of 10,500
men into four columns, starting a day apart, in moving from Puebla
to the capital of the nation, when it was known that an army more
than twice as large as his own stood ready to resist his coming.
The road was broad and the country open except in crossing the Rio
Frio mountain. General Taylor pursued the same course in marching
toward an enemy. He moved even in smaller bodies. I never thought
at the time to doubt the infallibility of these two generals in all
matters pertaining to their profession. I supposed they moved in
small bodies because more men could not be passed over a single
road on the same day with their artillery and necessary trains.
Later I found the fallacy of this belief. The rebellion, which
followed as a sequence to the Mexican war, never could have been
suppressed if larger bodies of men could not have been moved at the
same time than was the custom under Scott and Taylor.

The victories in Mexico were, in every instance, over vastly
superior numbers. There were two reasons for this. Both General
Scott and General Taylor had such armies as are not often got
together. At the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca-de-la-Palma,
General Taylor had a small army, but it was composed exclusively of
regular troops, under the best of drill and discipline. Every
officer, from the highest to the lowest, was educated in his
profession, not at West Point necessarily, but in the camp, in
garrison, and many of them in Indian wars. The rank and file were
probably inferior, as material out of which to make an army, to the
volunteers that participated in all the later battles of the war;
but they were brave men, and then drill and discipline brought out
all there was in them. A better army, man for man, probably never
faced an enemy than the one commanded by General Taylor in the
earliest two engagements of the Mexican war. The volunteers who
followed were of better material, but without drill or discipline
at the start. They were associated with so many disciplined men and
professionally educated officers, that when they went into
engagements it was with a confidence they would not have felt
otherwise. They became soldiers themselves almost at once. All
these conditions we would enjoy again in case of war.

The Mexican army of that day was hardly an organization. The
private soldier was picked up from the lower class of the
inhabitants when wanted; his consent was not asked; he was poorly
clothed, worse fed, and seldom paid. He was turned adrift when no
longer wanted. The officers of the lower grades were but little
superior to the men. With all this I have seen as brave stands made
by some of these men as I have ever seen made by soldiers. Now
Mexico has a standing army larger than that of the United States.
They have a military school modelled after West Point. Their
officers are educated and, no doubt, generally brave. The Mexican
war of 1846-8 would be an impossibility in this generation.

The Mexicans have shown a patriotism which it would be well if
we would imitate in part, but with more regard to truth. They
celebrate the anniversaries of Chapultepec and Molino del Rey as of
very great victories. The anniversaries are recognized as national
holidays. At these two battles, while the United States troops were
victorious, it was at very great sacrifice of life compared with
what the Mexicans suffered. The Mexicans, as on many other
occasions, stood up as well as any troops ever did. The trouble
seemed to be the lack of experience among the officers, which led
them after a certain time to simply quit, without being
particularly whipped, but because they had fought enough. Their
authorities of the present day grow enthusiastic over their theme
when telling of these victories, and speak with pride of the large
sum of money they forced us to pay in the end. With us, now twenty
years after the close of the most stupendous war ever known, we
have writers—who profess devotion to the nation—engaged
in trying to prove that the Union forces were not victorious;
practically, they say, we were slashed around from Donelson to
Vicksburg and to Chattanooga; and in the East from Gettysburg to
Appomattox, when the physical rebellion gave out from sheer
exhaustion. There is no difference in the amount of romance in the
two stories.

I would not have the anniversaries of our victories celebrated,
nor those of our defeats made fast days and spent in humiliation
and prayer; but I would like to see truthful history written. Such
history will do full credit to the courage, endurance and soldierly
ability of the American citizen, no matter what section of the
country he hailed from, or in what ranks he fought. The justice of
the cause which in the end prevailed, will, I doubt not, come to be
acknowledged by every citizen of the land, in time. For the
present, and so long as there are living witnesses of the great war
of sections, there will be people who will not be consoled for the
loss of a cause which they believed to be holy. As time passes,
people, even of the South, will begin to wonder how it was possible
that their ancestors ever fought for or justified institutions
which acknowledged the right of property in man.

After the fall of the capital and the dispersal of the
government of Mexico, it looked very much as if military occupation
of the country for a long time might be necessary. General Scott at
once began the preparation of orders, regulations and laws in view
of this contingency. He contemplated making the country pay all the
expenses of the occupation, without the army becoming a perceptible
burden upon the people. His plan was to levy a direct tax upon the
separate states, and collect, at the ports left open to trade, a
duty on all imports. From the beginning of the war private property
had not been taken, either for the use of the army or of
individuals, without full compensation. This policy was to be
pursued. There were not troops enough in the valley of Mexico to
occupy many points, but now that there was no organized army of the
enemy of any size, reinforcements could be got from the Rio Grande,
and there were also new volunteers arriving from time to time, all
by way of Vera Cruz. Military possession was taken of Cuernavaca,
fifty miles south of the City of Mexico; of Toluca, nearly as far
west, and of Pachuca, a mining town of great importance, some sixty
miles to the north-east. Vera Cruz, Jalapa, Orizaba, and Puebla
were already in our possession.

Meanwhile the Mexican government had departed in the person of
Santa Anna, and it looked doubtful for a time whether the United
States commissioner, Mr. Trist, would find anybody to negotiate
with. A temporary government, however, was soon established at
Queretaro, and Trist began negotiations for a conclusion of the
war. Before terms were finally agreed upon he was ordered back to
Washington, but General Scott prevailed upon him to remain, as an
arrangement had been so nearly reached, and the administration must
approve his acts if he succeeded in making such a treaty as had
been contemplated in his instructions. The treaty was finally
signed the 2d of February, 1848, and accepted by the government at
Washington. It is that known as the “Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo,”
and secured to the United States the Rio Grande as the boundary of
Texas, and the whole territory then included in New Mexico and
Upper California, for the sum of $15,000,000.

Soon after entering the city of Mexico, the opposition of
Generals Pillow, Worth and Colonel Duncan to General Scott became
very marked. Scott claimed that they had demanded of the President
his removal. I do not know whether this is so or not, but I do know
of their unconcealed hostility to their chief. At last he placed
them in arrest, and preferred charges against them of
insubordination and disrespect. This act brought on a crisis in the
career of the general commanding. He had asserted from the
beginning that the administration was hostile to him; that it had
failed in its promises of men and war material; that the President
himself had shown duplicity if not treachery in the endeavor to
procure the appointment of Benton: and the administration now gave
open evidence of its enmity. About the middle of February orders
came convening a court of inquiry, composed of Brevet
Brigadier-General Towson, the paymaster-general of the army,
Brigadier-General Cushing and Colonel Belknap, to inquire into the
conduct of the accused and the accuser, and shortly afterwards
orders were received from Washington, relieving Scott of the
command of the army in the field and assigning Major-General
William O. Butler of Kentucky to the place. This order also
released Pillow, Worth and Duncan from arrest.

If a change was to be made the selection of General Butler was
agreeable to every one concerned, so far as I remember to have
heard expressions on the subject. There were many who regarded the
treatment of General Scott as harsh and unjust. It is quite
possible that the vanity of the General had led him to say and do
things that afforded a plausible pretext to the administration for
doing just what it did and what it had wanted to do from the start.
The court tried the accuser quite as much as the accused. It was
adjourned before completing its labors, to meet in Frederick,
Maryland. General Scott left the country, and never after had more
than the nominal command of the army until early in 1861. He
certainly was not sustained in his efforts to maintain discipline
in high places.

The efforts to kill off politically the two successful generals,
made them both candidates for the Presidency. General Taylor was
nominated in 1848, and was elected. Four years later General Scott
received the nomination but was badly beaten, and the party
nominating him died with his defeat.

[The Mexican war made three presidential candidates,
Scott, Taylor and Pierce—and any number of aspirants for that
high office. It made also governors of States, members of the
cabinet, foreign ministers and other officers of high rank both in
state and nation. The rebellion, which contained more war in a
single day, at some critical periods, than the whole Mexican war in
two years, has not been so fruitful of political results to those
engaged on the Union side. On the other side, the side of the
South, nearly every man who holds office of any sort whatever,
either in the state or in the nation, was a Confederate soldier,
but this is easily accounted for from the fact that the South was a
military camp, and there were very few people of a suitable age to
be in the army who were not in it.]

CHAPTER XIII.

TREATY OF PEACE—MEXICAN BULL FIGHTS—REGIMENTAL
QUARTERMASTER—TRIP TO POPOCATAPETL—TRIP TO THE CAVES OF
MEXICO.

The treaty of peace between the two countries was signed by the
commissioners of each side early in February, 1848. It took a
considerable time for it to reach Washington, receive the approval
of the administration, and be finally ratified by the Senate. It
was naturally supposed by the army that there would be no more
fighting, and officers and men were of course anxious to get home,
but knowing there must be delay they contented themselves as best
they could. Every Sunday there was a bull fight for the amusement
of those who would pay their fifty cents. I attended one of
them—just one—not wishing to leave the country without
having witnessed the national sport. The sight to me was sickening.
I could not see how human beings could enjoy the sufferings of
beasts, and often of men, as they seemed to do on these
occasions.

At these sports there are usually from four to six bulls
sacrificed. The audience occupies seats around the ring in which
the exhibition is given, each seat but the foremost rising higher
than the one in front, so that every one can get a full view of the
sport. When all is ready a bull is turned into the ring. Three or
four men come in, mounted on the merest skeletons of horses blind
or blind-folded and so weak that they could not make a sudden turn
with their riders without danger of falling down. The men are armed
with spears having a point as sharp as a needle. Other men enter
the arena on foot, armed with red flags and explosives about the
size of a musket cartridge. To each of these explosives is fastened
a barbed needle which serves the purpose of attaching them to the
bull by running the needle into the skin. Before the animal is
turned loose a lot of these explosives are attached to him. The
pain from the pricking of the skin by the needles is exasperating;
but when the explosions of the cartridges commence the animal
becomes frantic. As he makes a lunge towards one horseman, another
runs a spear into him. He turns towards his last tormentor when a
man on foot holds out a red flag; the bull rushes for this and is
allowed to take it on his horns. The flag drops and covers the eyes
of the animal so that he is at a loss what to do; it is jerked from
him and the torment is renewed. When the animal is worked into an
uncontrollable frenzy, the horsemen withdraw, and the
matadores—literally murderers—enter, armed with knives
having blades twelve or eighteen inches long, and sharp. The trick
is to dodge an attack from the animal and stab him to the heart as
he passes. If these efforts fail the bull is finally lassoed, held
fast and killed by driving a knife blade into the spinal column
just back of the horns. He is then dragged out by horses or mules,
another is let into the ring, and the same performance is
renewed.

On the occasion when I was present one of the bulls was not
turned aside by the attacks in the rear, the presentations of the
red flag, etc., etc., but kept right on, and placing his horns
under the flanks of a horse threw him and his rider to the ground
with great force. The horse was killed and the rider lay prostrate
as if dead. The bull was then lassoed and killed in the manner
above described. Men came in and carried the dead man off in a
litter. When the slaughtered bull and horse were dragged out, a
fresh bull was turned into the ring. Conspicuous among the
spectators was the man who had been carried out on a litter but a
few minutes before. He was only dead so far as that performance
went; but the corpse was so lively that it could not forego the
chance of witnessing the discomfiture of some of his brethren who
might not be so fortunate. There was a feeling of disgust
manifested by the audience to find that he had come to life again.
I confess that I felt sorry to see the cruelty to the bull and the
horse. I did not stay for the conclusion of the performance; but
while I did stay, there was not a bull killed in the prescribed
way.

Bull fights are now prohibited in the Federal
District—embracing a territory around the City of Mexico,
somewhat larger than the District of Columbia—and they are
not an institution in any part of the country. During one of my
recent visits to Mexico, bull fights were got up in my honor at
Puebla and at Pachuca. I was not notified in advance so as to be
able to decline and thus prevent the performance; but in both cases
I civilly declined to attend.

Another amusement of the people of Mexico of that day, and one
which nearly all indulged in, male and female, old and young,
priest and layman, was Monte playing. Regular feast weeks were held
every year at what was then known as St. Augustin Tlalpam, eleven
miles out of town. There were dealers to suit every class and
condition of people. In many of the booths tlackos—the copper
coin of the country, four of them making six and a quarter cents of
our money—were piled up in great quantities, with some
silver, to accommodate the people who could not bet more than a few
pennies at a time. In other booths silver formed the bulk of the
capital of the bank, with a few doubloons to be changed if there
should be a run of luck against the bank. In some there was no coin
except gold. Here the rich were said to bet away their entire
estates in a single day. All this is stopped now.

For myself, I was kept somewhat busy during the winter of
1847-8. My regiment was stationed in Tacubaya. I was regimental
quartermaster and commissary. General Scott had been unable to get
clothing for the troops from the North. The men were
becoming—well, they needed clothing. Material had to be
purchased, such as could be obtained, and people employed to make
it up into “Yankee uniforms.” A quartermaster in the city was
designated to attend to this special duty; but clothing was so much
needed that it was seized as fast as made up. A regiment was glad
to get a dozen suits at a time. I had to look after this matter for
the 4th infantry. Then our regimental fund had run down and some of
the musicians in the band had been without their extra pay for a
number of months.

The regimental bands at that day were kept up partly by pay from
the government, and partly by pay from the regimental fund. There
was authority of law for enlisting a certain number of men as
musicians. So many could receive the pay of non-commissioned
officers of the various grades, and the remainder the pay of
privates. This would not secure a band leader, nor good players on
certain instruments. In garrison there are various ways of keeping
up a regimental fund sufficient to give extra pay to musicians,
establish libraries and ten-pin alleys, subscribe to magazines and
furnish many extra comforts to the men. The best device for
supplying the fund is to issue bread to the soldiers instead of
flour. The ration used to be eighteen ounces per day of either
flour or bread; and one hundred pounds of flour will make one
hundred and forty pounds of bread. This saving was purchased by the
commissary for the benefit of the fund. In the emergency the 4th
infantry was laboring under, I rented a bakery in the city, hired
bakers—Mexicans—bought fuel and whatever was necessary,
and I also got a contract from the chief commissary of the army for
baking a large amount of hard bread. In two months I made more
money for the fund than my pay amounted to during the entire war.
While stationed at Monterey I had relieved the post fund in the
same way. There, however, was no profit except in the saving of
flour by converting it into bread.

In the spring of 1848 a party of officers obtained leave to
visit Popocatapetl, the highest volcano in America, and to take an
escort. I went with the party, many of whom afterwards occupied
conspicuous positions before the country. Of those who “went
south,” and attained high rank, there was Lieutenant Richard
Anderson, who commanded a corps at Spottsylvania; Captain Sibley, a
major-general, and, after the war, for a number of years in the
employ of the Khedive of Egypt; Captain George Crittenden, a rebel
general; S. B. Buckner, who surrendered Fort Donelson; and
Mansfield Lovell, who commanded at New Orleans before that city
fell into the hands of the National troops. Of those who remained
on our side there were Captain Andrew Porter, Lieutenant C. P.
Stone and Lieutenant Z. B. Tower. There were quite a number of
other officers, whose names I cannot recollect.

At a little village (Ozumba) near the base of Popocatapetl,
where we purposed to commence the ascent, we procured guides and
two pack mules with forage for our horses. High up on the mountain
there was a deserted house of one room, called the Vaqueria, which
had been occupied years before by men in charge of cattle ranging
on the mountain. The pasturage up there was very fine when we saw
it, and there were still some cattle, descendants of the former
domestic herd, which had now become wild. It was possible to go on
horseback as far as the Vaqueria, though the road was somewhat
hazardous in places. Sometimes it was very narrow with a yawning
precipice on one side, hundreds of feet down to a roaring mountain
torrent below, and almost perpendicular walls on the other side. At
one of these places one of our mules loaded with two sacks of
barley, one on each side, the two about as big as he was, struck
his load against the mountain-side and was precipitated to the
bottom. The descent was steep but not perpendicular. The mule
rolled over and over until the bottom was reached, and we supposed
of course the poor animal was dashed to pieces. What was our
surprise, not long after we had gone into bivouac, to see the lost
mule, cargo and owner coming up the ascent. The load had protected
the animal from serious injury; and his owner had gone after him
and found a way back to the path leading up to the hut where we
were to stay.

The night at the Vaqueria was one of the most unpleasant I ever
knew. It was very cold and the rain fell in torrents. A little
higher up the rain ceased and snow began. The wind blew with great
velocity. The log-cabin we were in had lost the roof entirely on
one side, and on the other it was hardly better then a sieve. There
was little or no sleep that night. As soon as it was light the next
morning, we started to make the ascent to the summit. The wind
continued to blow with violence and the weather was still cloudy,
but there was neither rain nor snow. The clouds, however, concealed
from our view the country below us, except at times a momentary
glimpse could be got through a clear space between them. The wind
carried the loose snow around the mountain-sides in such volumes as
to make it almost impossible to stand up against it. We labored on
and on, until it became evident that the top could not be reached
before night, if at all in such a storm, and we concluded to
return. The descent was easy and rapid, though dangerous, until we
got below the snow line. At the cabin we mounted our horses, and by
night were at Ozumba.

The fatigues of the day and the loss of sleep the night before
drove us to bed early. Our beds consisted of a place on the
dirt-floor with a blanket under us. Soon all were asleep; but long
before morning first one and then another of our party began to cry
out with excruciating pain in the eyes. Not one escaped it. By
morning the eyes of half the party were so swollen that they were
entirely closed. The others suffered pain equally. The feeling was
about what might be expected from the prick of a sharp needle at a
white heat. We remained in quarters until the afternoon bathing our
eyes in cold water. This relieved us very much, and before night
the pain had entirely left. The swelling, however, continued, and
about half the party still had their eyes entirely closed; but we
concluded to make a start back, those who could see a little
leading the horses of those who could not see at all. We moved back
to the village of Ameca Ameca, some six miles, and stopped again
for the night. The next morning all were entirely well and free
from pain. The weather was clear and Popocatapetl stood out in all
its beauty, the top looking as if not a mile away, and inviting us
to return. About half the party were anxious to try the ascent
again, and concluded to do so. The remainder—I was with the
remainder—concluded that we had got all the pleasure there
was to be had out of mountain climbing, and that we would visit the
great caves of Mexico, some ninety miles from where we then were,
on the road to Acapulco.

The party that ascended the mountain the second time succeeded
in reaching the crater at the top, with but little of the labor
they encountered in their first attempt. Three of
them—Anderson, Stone and Buckner—wrote accounts of
their journey, which were published at the time. I made no notes of
this excursion, and have read nothing about it since, but it seems
to me that I can see the whole of it as vividly as if it were but
yesterday. I have been back at Ameca Ameca, and the village beyond,
twice in the last five years. The scene had not changed materially
from my recollection of it.

The party which I was with moved south down the valley to the
town of Cuantla, some forty miles from Ameca Ameca. The latter
stands on the plain at the foot of Popocatapetl, at an elevation of
about eight thousand feet above tide water. The slope down is
gradual as the traveller moves south, but one would not judge that,
in going to Cuantla, descent enough had been made to occasion a
material change in the climate and productions of the soil; but
such is the case. In the morning we left a temperate climate where
the cereals and fruits are those common to the United States, we
halted in the evening in a tropical climate where the orange and
banana, the coffee and the sugar-cane were flourishing. We had been
travelling, apparently, on a plain all day, but in the direction of
the flow of water.

Soon after the capture of the City of Mexico an armistice had
been agreed to, designating the limits beyond which troops of the
respective armies were not to go during its continuance. Our party
knew nothing about these limits. As we approached Cuantla bugles
sounded the assembly, and soldiers rushed from the guard-house in
the edge of the town towards us. Our party halted, and I tied a
white pocket handkerchief to a stick and, using it as a flag of
truce, proceeded on to the town. Captains Sibley and Porter
followed a few hundred yards behind. I was detained at the
guard-house until a messenger could be dispatched to the quarters
of the commanding general, who authorized that I should be
conducted to him. I had been with the general but a few minutes
when the two officers following announced themselves. The Mexican
general reminded us that it was a violation of the truce for us to
be there. However, as we had no special authority from our own
commanding general, and as we knew nothing about the terms of the
truce, we were permitted to occupy a vacant house outside the guard
for the night, with the promise of a guide to put us on the road to
Cuernavaca the next morning.

Cuernavaca is a town west of Guantla. The country through which
we passed, between these two towns, is tropical in climate and
productions and rich in scenery. At one point, about half-way
between the two places, the road goes over a low pass in the
mountains in which there is a very quaint old town, the inhabitants
of which at that day were nearly all full-blooded Indians. Very few
of them even spoke Spanish. The houses were built of stone and
generally only one story high. The streets were narrow, and had
probably been paved before Cortez visited the country. They had not
been graded, but the paving had been done on the natural surface.
We had with us one vehicle, a cart, which was probably the first
wheeled vehicle that had ever passed through that town.

On a hill overlooking this town stands the tomb of an ancient
king; and it was understood that the inhabitants venerated this
tomb very highly, as well as the memory of the ruler who was
supposed to be buried in it. We ascended the mountain and surveyed
the tomb; but it showed no particular marks of architectural taste,
mechanical skill or advanced civilization. The next day we went
into Cuernavaca.

After a day’s rest at Cuernavaca our party set out again on the
journey to the great caves of Mexico. We had proceeded but a few
miles when we were stopped, as before, by a guard and notified that
the terms of the existing armistice did not permit us to go further
in that direction. Upon convincing the guard that we were a mere
party of pleasure seekers desirous of visiting the great natural
curiosities of the country which we expected soon to leave, we were
conducted to a large hacienda near by, and directed to remain there
until the commanding general of that department could be
communicated with and his decision obtained as to whether we should
be permitted to pursue our journey. The guard promised to send a
messenger at once, and expected a reply by night. At night there
was no response from the commanding general, but the captain of the
guard was sure he would have a reply by morning. Again in the
morning there was no reply. The second evening the same thing
happened, and finally we learned that the guard had sent no message
or messenger to the department commander. We determined therefore
to go on unless stopped by a force sufficient to compel
obedience.

After a few hours’ travel we came to a town where a scene
similar to the one at Cuantia occurred. The commanding officer sent
a guide to conduct our party around the village and to put us upon
our road again. This was the last interruption: that night we
rested at a large coffee plantation, some eight miles from the cave
we were on the way to visit. It must have been a Saturday night;
the peons had been paid off, and spent part of the night in
gambling away their scanty week’s earnings. Their coin was
principally copper, and I do not believe there was a man among them
who had received as much as twenty-five cents in money. They were
as much excited, however, as if they had been staking thousands. I
recollect one poor fellow, who had lost his last tlacko, pulled off
his shirt and, in the most excited manner, put that up on the turn
of a card. Monte was the game played, the place out of doors, near
the window of the room occupied by the officers of our party.

The next morning we were at the mouth of the cave at an early
hour, provided with guides, candles and rockets. We explored to a
distance of about three miles from the entrance, and found a
succession of chambers of great dimensions and of great beauty when
lit up with our rockets. Stalactites and stalagmites of all sizes
were discovered. Some of the former were many feet in diameter and
extended from ceiling to floor; some of the latter were but a few
feet high from the floor; but the formation is going on constantly,
and many centuries hence these stalagmites will extend to the
ceiling and become complete columns. The stalagmites were all a
little concave, and the cavities were filled with water. The water
percolates through the roof, a drop at a time—often the drops
several minutes apart—and more or less charged with mineral
matter. Evaporation goes on slowly, leaving the mineral behind.
This in time makes the immense columns, many of them thousands of
tons in weight, which serve to support the roofs over the vast
chambers. I recollect that at one point in the cave one of these
columns is of such huge proportions that there is only a narrow
passage left on either side of it. Some of our party became
satisfied with their explorations before we had reached the point
to which the guides were accustomed to take explorers, and started
back without guides. Coming to the large column spoken of, they
followed it entirely around, and commenced retracing their steps
into the bowels of the mountain, without being aware of the fact.
When the rest of us had completed our explorations, we started out
with our guides, but had not gone far before we saw the torches of
an approaching party. We could not conceive who these could be, for
all of us had come in together, and there were none but ourselves
at the entrance when we started in. Very soon we found it was our
friends. It took them some time to conceive how they had got where
they were. They were sure they had kept straight on for the mouth
of the cave, and had gone about far enough to have reached it.

CHAPTER XIV.

RETURN OF THE ARMY—MARRIAGE—ORDERED TO THE PACIFIC
COAST—CROSSING THE ISTHMUS—ARRIVAL AT SAN
FRANCISCO.

My experience in the Mexican war was of great advantage to me
afterwards. Besides the many practical lessons it taught, the war
brought nearly all the officers of the regular army together so as
to make them personally acquainted. It also brought them in contact
with volunteers, many of whom served in the war of the rebellion
afterwards. Then, in my particular case, I had been at West Point
at about the right time to meet most of the graduates who were of a
suitable age at the breaking out of the rebellion to be trusted
with large commands. Graduating in 1843, I was at the military
academy from one to four years with all cadets who graduated
between 1840 and 1846—seven classes. These classes embraced
more than fifty officers who afterwards became generals on one side
or the other in the rebellion, many of them holding high commands.
All the older officers, who became conspicuous in the rebellion, I
had also served with and known in Mexico: Lee, J. E. Johnston, A.
S. Johnston, Holmes, Hebert and a number of others on the
Confederate side; McCall, Mansfield, Phil. Kearney and others on
the National side. The acquaintance thus formed was of immense
service to me in the war of the rebellion—I mean what I
learned of the characters of those to whom I was afterwards
opposed. I do not pretend to say that all movements, or even many
of them, were made with special reference to the characteristics of
the commander against whom they were directed. But my appreciation
of my enemies was certainly affected by this knowledge. The natural
disposition of most people is to clothe a commander of a large army
whom they do not know, with almost superhuman abilities. A large
part of the National army, for instance, and most of the press of
the country, clothed General Lee with just such qualities, but I
had known him personally, and knew that he was mortal; and it was
just as well that I felt this.

The treaty of peace was at last ratified, and the evacuation of
Mexico by United States troops was ordered. Early in June the
troops in the City of Mexico began to move out. Many of them,
including the brigade to which I belonged, were assembled at
Jalapa, above the vomito, to await the arrival of transports at
Vera Cruz: but with all this precaution my regiment and others were
in camp on the sand beach in a July sun, for about a week before
embarking, while the fever raged with great virulence in Vera Cruz,
not two miles away. I can call to mind only one person, an officer,
who died of the disease. My regiment was sent to Pascagoula,
Mississippi, to spend the summer. As soon as it was settled in camp
I obtained a leave of absence for four months and proceeded to St.
Louis. On the 22d of August, 1848, I was married to Miss Julia
Dent, the lady of whom I have before spoken. We visited my parents
and relations in Ohio, and, at the end of my leave, proceeded to my
post at Sackett’s Harbor, New York. In April following I was
ordered to Detroit, Michigan, where two years were spent with but
few important incidents.

The present constitution of the State of Michigan was ratified
during this time. By the terms of one of its provisions, all
citizens of the United States residing within the State at the time
of the ratification became citizens of Michigan also. During my
stay in Detroit there was an election for city officers. Mr.
Zachariah Chandler was the candidate of the Whigs for the office of
Mayor, and was elected, although the city was then reckoned
democratic. All the officers stationed there at the time who
offered their votes were permitted to cast them. I did not offer
mine, however, as I did not wish to consider myself a citizen of
Michigan. This was Mr. Chandler’s first entry into politics, a
career he followed ever after with great success, and in which he
died enjoying the friendship, esteem and love of his
countrymen.

In the spring of 1851 the garrison at Detroit was transferred to
Sackett’s Harbor, and in the following spring the entire 4th
infantry was ordered to the Pacific Coast. It was decided that Mrs.
Grant should visit my parents at first for a few months, and then
remain with her own family at their St. Louis home until an
opportunity offered of sending for her. In the month of April the
regiment was assembled at Governor’s Island, New York Harbor, and
on the 5th of July eight companies sailed for Aspinwall. We
numbered a little over seven hundred persons, including the
families of officers and soldiers. Passage was secured for us on
the old steamer Ohio, commanded at the time by Captain Schenck, of
the navy. It had not been determined, until a day or two before
starting, that the 4th infantry should go by the Ohio;
consequently, a complement of passengers had already been secured.
The addition of over seven hundred to this list crowded the steamer
most uncomfortably, especially for the tropics in July.

In eight days Aspinwall was reached. At that time the streets of
the town were eight or ten inches under water, and foot passengers
passed from place to place on raised foot-walks. July is at the
height of the wet season, on the Isthmus. At intervals the rain
would pour down in streams, followed in not many minutes by a
blazing, tropical summer’s sun. These alternate changes, from rain
to sunshine, were continuous in the afternoons. I wondered how any
person could live many months in Aspinwall, and wondered still more
why any one tried.

In the summer of 1852 the Panama railroad was completed only to
the point where it now crosses the Chagres River. From there
passengers were carried by boats to Gorgona, at which place they
took mules for Panama, some twenty-five miles further. Those who
travelled over the Isthmus in those days will remember that boats
on the Chagres River were propelled by natives not inconveniently
burdened with clothing. These boats carried thirty to forty
passengers each. The crews consisted of six men to a boat, armed
with long poles. There were planks wide enough for a man to walk on
conveniently, running along the sides of each boat from end to end.
The men would start from the bow, place one end of their poles
against the river bottom, brace their shoulders against the other
end, and then walk to the stern as rapidly as they could. In this
way from a mile to a mile and a half an hour could be made, against
the current of the river.

I, as regimental quartermaster, had charge of the public
property and had also to look after the transportation. A contract
had been entered into with the steamship company in New York for
the transportation of the regiment to California, including the
Isthmus transit. A certain amount of baggage was allowed per man,
and saddle animals were to be furnished to commissioned officers
and to all disabled persons. The regiment, with the exception of
one company left as guards to the public property—camp and
garrison equipage principally—and the soldiers with families,
took boats, propelled as above described, for Gorgona. From this
place they marched to Panama, and were soon comfortably on the
steamer anchored in the bay, some three or four miles from the
town. I, with one company of troops and all the soldiers with
families, all the tents, mess chests and camp kettles, was sent to
Cruces, a town a few miles higher up the Chagres River than
Gorgona. There I found an impecunious American who had taken the
contract to furnish transportation for the regiment at a stipulated
price per hundred pounds for the freight and so much for each
saddle animal. But when we reached Cruces there was not a mule,
either for pack or saddle, in the place. The contractor promised
that the animals should be on hand in the morning. In the morning
he said that they were on the way from some imaginary place, and
would arrive in the course of the day. This went on until I saw
that he could not procure the animals at all at the price he had
promised to furnish them for. The unusual number of passengers that
had come over on the steamer, and the large amount of freight to
pack, had created an unprecedented demand for mules. Some of the
passengers paid as high as forty dollars for the use of a mule to
ride twenty-five miles, when the mule would not have sold for ten
dollars in that market at other times. Meanwhile the cholera had
broken out, and men were dying every hour. To diminish the food for
the disease, I permitted the company detailed with me to proceed to
Panama. The captain and the doctors accompanied the men, and I was
left alone with the sick and the soldiers who had families. The
regiment at Panama was also affected with the disease; but there
were better accommodations for the well on the steamer, and a
hospital, for those taken with the disease, on an old hulk anchored
a mile off. There were also hospital tents on shore on the island
of Flamingo, which stands in the bay.

I was about a week at Cruces before transportation began to come
in. About one-third of the people with me died, either at Cruces or
on the way to Panama. There was no agent of the transportation
company at Cruces to consult, or to take the responsibility of
procuring transportation at a price which would secure it. I
therefore myself dismissed the contractor and made a new contract
with a native, at more than double the original price. Thus we
finally reached Panama. The steamer, however, could not proceed
until the cholera abated, and the regiment was detained still
longer. Altogether, on the Isthmus and on the Pacific side, we were
delayed six weeks. About one-seventh of those who left New York
harbor with the 4th infantry on the 5th of July, now lie buried on
the Isthmus of Panama or on Flamingo island in Panama Bay.

One amusing circumstance occurred while we were lying at anchor
in Panama Bay. In the regiment there was a Lieutenant Slaughter who
was very liable to sea-sickness. It almost made him sick to see the
wave of a table-cloth when the servants were spreading it. Soon
after his graduation, Slaughter was ordered to California and took
passage by a sailing vessel going around Cape Horn. The vessel was
seven months making the voyage, and Slaughter was sick every moment
of the time, never more so than while lying at anchor after
reaching his place of destination. On landing in California he
found orders which had come by the Isthmus, notifying him of a
mistake in his assignment; he should have been ordered to the
northern lakes. He started back by the Isthmus route and was sick
all the way. But when he arrived at the East he was again ordered
to California, this time definitely, and at this date was making
his third trip. He was as sick as ever, and had been so for more
than a month while lying at anchor in the bay. I remember him well,
seated with his elbows on the table in front of him, his chin
between his hands, and looking the picture of despair. At last he
broke out, “I wish I had taken my father’s advice; he wanted me to
go into the navy; if I had done so, I should not have had to go to
sea so much.” Poor Slaughter! it was his last sea voyage. He was
killed by Indians in Oregon.

By the last of August the cholera had so abated that it was
deemed safe to start. The disease did not break out again on the
way to California, and we reached San Francisco early in
September.

CHAPTER XV.

SAN FRANCISCO—EARLY CALIFORNIA EXPERIENCES—LIFE ON
THE PACIFIC COAST—PROMOTED CAPTAIN—FLUSH TIMES IN
CALIFORNIA.

San Francisco at that day was a lively place. Gold, or placer
digging as it was called, was at its height. Steamers plied daily
between San Francisco and both Stockton and Sacramento. Passengers
and gold from the southern mines came by the Stockton boat; from
the northern mines by Sacramento. In the evening when these boats
arrived, Long Wharf—there was but one wharf in San Francisco
in 1852—was alive with people crowding to meet the miners as
they came down to sell their “dust” and to “have a time.” Of these
some were runners for hotels, boarding houses or restaurants;
others belonged to a class of impecunious adventurers, of good
manners and good presence, who were ever on the alert to make the
acquaintance of people with some ready means, in the hope of being
asked to take a meal at a restaurant. Many were young men of good
family, good education and gentlemanly instincts. Their parents had
been able to support them during their minority, and to give them
good educations, but not to maintain them afterwards. From 1849 to
1853 there was a rush of people to the Pacific coast, of the class
described. All thought that fortunes were to be picked up, without
effort, in the gold fields on the Pacific. Some realized more than
their most sanguine expectations; but for one such there were
hundreds disappointed, many of whom now fill unknown graves; others
died wrecks of their former selves, and many, without a vicious
instinct, became criminals and outcasts. Many of the real scenes in
early California life exceed in strangeness and interest any of the
mere products of the brain of the novelist.

Those early days in California brought out character. It was a
long way off then, and the journey was expensive. The fortunate
could go by Cape Horn or by the Isthmus of Panama; but the mass of
pioneers crossed the plains with their ox-teams. This took an
entire summer. They were very lucky when they got through with a
yoke of worn-out cattle. All other means were exhausted in
procuring the outfit on the Missouri River. The immigrant, on
arriving, found himself a stranger, in a strange land, far from
friends. Time pressed, for the little means that could be realized
from the sale of what was left of the outfit would not support a
man long at California prices. Many became discouraged. Others
would take off their coats and look for a job, no matter what it
might be. These succeeded as a rule. There were many young men who
had studied professions before they went to California, and who had
never done a day’s manual labor in their lives, who took in the
situation at once and went to work to make a start at anything they
could get to do. Some supplied carpenters and masons with
material—carrying plank, brick, or mortar, as the case might
be; others drove stages, drays, or baggage wagons, until they could
do better. More became discouraged early and spent their time
looking up people who would “treat,” or lounging about restaurants
and gambling houses where free lunches were furnished daily. They
were welcomed at these places because they often brought in miners
who proved good customers.

My regiment spent a few weeks at Benicia barracks, and then was
ordered to Fort Vancouver, on the Columbia River, then in Oregon
Territory. During the winter of 1852-3 the territory was divided,
all north of the Columbia River being taken from Oregon to make
Washington Territory.

Prices for all kinds of supplies were so high on the Pacific
coast from 1849 until at least 1853—that it would have been
impossible for officers of the army to exist upon their pay, if it
had not been that authority was given them to purchase from the
commissary such supplies as he kept, at New Orleans wholesale
prices. A cook could not be hired for the pay of a captain. The
cook could do better. At Benicia, in 1852, flour was 25 cents per
pound; potatoes were 16 cents; beets, turnips and cabbage, 6 cents;
onions, 37 1/2 cents; meat and other articles in proportion. In
1853 at Vancouver vegetables were a little lower. I with three
other officers concluded that we would raise a crop for ourselves,
and by selling the surplus realize something handsome. I bought a
pair of horses that had crossed the plains that summer and were
very poor. They recuperated rapidly, however, and proved a good
team to break up the ground with. I performed all the labor of
breaking up the ground while the other officers planted the
potatoes. Our crop was enormous. Luckily for us the Columbia River
rose to a great height from the melting of the snow in the
mountains in June, and overflowed and killed most of our crop. This
saved digging it up, for everybody on the Pacific coast seemed to
have come to the conclusion at the same time that agriculture would
be profitable. In 1853 more than three-quarters of the potatoes
raised were permitted to rot in the ground, or had to be thrown
away. The only potatoes we sold were to our own mess.

While I was stationed on the Pacific coast we were free from
Indian wars. There were quite a number of remnants of tribes in the
vicinity of Portland in Oregon, and of Fort Vancouver in Washington
Territory. They had generally acquired some of the vices of
civilization, but none of the virtues, except in individual cases.
The Hudson’s Bay Company had held the North-west with their trading
posts for many years before the United States was represented on
the Pacific coast. They still retained posts along the Columbia
River and one at Fort Vancouver, when I was there. Their treatment
of the Indians had brought out the better qualities of the savages.
Farming had been undertaken by the company to supply the Indians
with bread and vegetables; they raised some cattle and horses; and
they had now taught the Indians to do the labor of the farm and
herd. They always compensated them for their labor, and always gave
them goods of uniform quality and at uniform price.

Before the advent of the American, the medium of exchange
between the Indian and the white man was pelts. Afterward it was
silver coin. If an Indian received in the sale of a horse a fifty
dollar gold piece, not an infrequent occurrence, the first thing he
did was to exchange it for American half dollars. These he could
count. He would then commence his purchases, paying for each
article separately, as he got it. He would not trust any one to add
up the bill and pay it all at once. At that day fifty dollar gold
pieces, not the issue of the government, were common on the Pacific
coast. They were called slugs.

The Indians, along the lower Columbia as far as the Cascades and
on the lower Willamette, died off very fast during the year I spent
in that section; for besides acquiring the vices of the white
people they had acquired also their diseases. The measles and the
small-pox were both amazingly fatal. In their wild state, before
the appearance of the white man among them, the principal
complaints they were subject to were those produced by long
involuntary fasting, violent exercise in pursuit of game, and
over-eating. Instinct more than reason had taught them a remedy for
these ills. It was the steam bath. Something like a bake-oven was
built, large enough to admit a man lying down. Bushes were stuck in
the ground in two rows, about six feet long and some two or three
feet apart; other bushes connected the rows at one end. The tops of
the bushes were drawn together to interlace, and confined in that
position; the whole was then plastered over with wet clay until
every opening was filled. Just inside the open end of the oven the
floor was scooped out so as to make a hole that would hold a bucket
or two of water. These ovens were always built on the banks of a
stream, a big spring, or pool of water. When a patient required a
bath, a fire was built near the oven and a pile of stones put upon
it. The cavity at the front was then filled with water. When the
stones were sufficiently heated, the patient would draw himself
into the oven; a blanket would be thrown over the open end, and hot
stones put into the water until the patient could stand it no
longer. He was then withdrawn from his steam bath and doused into
the cold stream near by. This treatment may have answered with the
early ailments of the Indians. With the measles or small-pox it
would kill every time.

During my year on the Columbia River, the small-pox exterminated
one small remnant of a band of Indians entirely, and reduced others
materially. I do not think there was a case of recovery among them,
until the doctor with the Hudson Bay Company took the matter in
hand and established a hospital. Nearly every case he treated
recovered. I never, myself, saw the treatment described in the
preceding paragraph, but have heard it described by persons who
have witnessed it. The decimation among the Indians I knew of
personally, and the hospital, established for their benefit, was a
Hudson’s Bay building not a stone’s throw from my own quarters.

The death of Colonel Bliss, of the Adjutant General’s
department, which occurred July 5th, 1853, promoted me to the
captaincy of a company then stationed at Humboldt Bay, California.
The notice reached me in September of the same year, and I very
soon started to join my new command. There was no way of reaching
Humboldt at that time except to take passage on a San Francisco
sailing vessel going after lumber. Red wood, a species of cedar,
which on the Pacific coast takes the place filled by white pine in
the East, then abounded on the banks of Humboldt Bay. There were
extensive saw-mills engaged in preparing this lumber for the San
Francisco market, and sailing vessels, used in getting it to
market, furnished the only means of communication between Humboldt
and the balance of the world.

I was obliged to remain in San Francisco for several days before
I found a vessel. This gave me a good opportunity of comparing the
San Francisco of 1852 with that of 1853. As before stated, there
had been but one wharf in front of the city in 1852—Long
Wharf. In 1853 the town had grown out into the bay beyond what was
the end of this wharf when I first saw it. Streets and houses had
been built out on piles where the year before the largest vessels
visiting the port lay at anchor or tied to the wharf. There was no
filling under the streets or houses. San Francisco presented the
same general appearance as the year before; that is, eating,
drinking and gambling houses were conspicuous for their number and
publicity. They were on the first floor, with doors wide open. At
all hours of the day and night in walking the streets, the eye was
regaled, on every block near the water front, by the sight of
players at faro. Often broken places were found in the street,
large enough to let a man down into the water below. I have but
little doubt that many of the people who went to the Pacific coast
in the early days of the gold excitement, and have never been heard
from since, or who were heard from for a time and then ceased to
write, found watery graves beneath the houses or streets built over
San Francisco Bay.

Besides the gambling in cards there was gambling on a larger
scale in city lots. These were sold “On Change,” much as stocks are
now sold on Wall Street. Cash, at time of purchase, was always paid
by the broker; but the purchaser had only to put up his margin. He
was charged at the rate of two or three per cent. a month on the
difference, besides commissions. The sand hills, some of them
almost inaccessible to foot-passengers, were surveyed off and
mapped into fifty vara lots—a vara being a Spanish yard.
These were sold at first at very low prices, but were sold and
resold for higher prices until they went up to many thousands of
dollars. The brokers did a fine business, and so did many such
purchasers as were sharp enough to quit purchasing before the final
crash came. As the city grew, the sand hills back of the town
furnished material for filling up the bay under the houses and
streets, and still further out. The temporary houses, first built
over the water in the harbor, soon gave way to more solid
structures. The main business part of the city now is on solid
ground, made where vessels of the largest class lay at anchor in
the early days. I was in San Francisco again in 1854. Gambling
houses had disappeared from public view. The city had become staid
and orderly.

CHAPTER XVI.

RESIGNATION—PRIVATE LIFE—LIFE AT GALENA—THE
COMING CRISIS.

My family, all this while, was at the East. It consisted now of
a wife and two children. I saw no chance of supporting them on the
Pacific coast out of my pay as an army officer. I concluded,
therefore, to resign, and in March applied for a leave of absence
until the end of the July following, tendering my resignation to
take effect at the end of that time. I left the Pacific coast very
much attached to it, and with the full expectation of making it my
future home. That expectation and that hope remained uppermost in
my mind until the Lieutenant-Generalcy bill was introduced into
Congress in the winter of 1863-4. The passage of that bill, and my
promotion, blasted my last hope of ever becoming a citizen of the
further West.

In the late summer of 1854 I rejoined my family, to find in it a
son whom I had never seen, born while I was on the Isthmus of
Panama. I was now to commence, at the age of thirty-two, a new
struggle for our support. My wife had a farm near St. Louis, to
which we went, but I had no means to stock it. A house had to be
built also. I worked very hard, never losing a day because of bad
weather, and accomplished the object in a moderate way. If nothing
else could be done I would load a cord of wood on a wagon and take
it to the city for sale. I managed to keep along very well until
1858, when I was attacked by fever and ague. I had suffered very
severely and for a long time from this disease, while a boy in
Ohio. It lasted now over a year, and, while it did not keep me in
the house, it did interfere greatly with the amount of work I was
able to perform. In the fall of 1858 I sold out my stock, crops and
farming utensils at auction, and gave up farming.

In the winter I established a partnership with Harry Boggs, a
cousin of Mrs. Grant, in the real estate agency business. I spent
that winter at St. Louis myself, but did not take my family into
town until the spring. Our business might have become prosperous if
I had been able to wait for it to grow. As it was, there was no
more than one person could attend to, and not enough to support two
families. While a citizen of St. Louis and engaged in the real
estate agency business, I was a candidate for the office of county
engineer, an office of respectability and emolument which would
have been very acceptable to me at that time. The incumbent was
appointed by the county court, which consisted of five members. My
opponent had the advantage of birth over me (he was a citizen by
adoption) and carried off the prize. I now withdrew from the
co-partnership with Boggs, and, in May, 1860, removed to Galena,
Illinois, and took a clerkship in my father’s store.

While a citizen of Missouri, my first opportunity for casting a
vote at a Presidential election occurred. I had been in the army
from before attaining my majority and had thought but little about
politics, although I was a Whig by education and a great admirer of
Mr. Clay. But the Whig party had ceased to exist before I had an
opportunity of exercising the privilege of casting a ballot; the
Know-Nothing party had taken its place, but was on the wane; and
the Republican party was in a chaotic state and had not yet
received a name. It had no existence in the Slave States except at
points on the borders next to Free States. In St. Louis City and
County, what afterwards became the Republican party was known as
the Free-Soil Democracy, led by the Honorable Frank P. Blair. Most
of my neighbors had known me as an officer of the army with Whig
proclivities. They had been on the same side, and, on the death of
their party, many had become Know-Nothings, or members of the
American party. There was a lodge near my new home, and I was
invited to join it. I accepted the invitation; was initiated;
attended a meeting just one week later, and never went to another
afterwards.

I have no apologies to make for having been one week a member of
the American party; for I still think native-born citizens of the
United States should have as much protection, as many privileges in
their native country, as those who voluntarily select it for a
home. But all secret, oath-bound political parties are dangerous to
any nation, no matter how pure or how patriotic the motives and
principles which first bring them together. No political party can
or ought to exist when one of its corner-stones is opposition to
freedom of thought and to the right to worship God “according to
the dictate of one’s own conscience,” or according to the creed of
any religious denomination whatever. Nevertheless, if a sect sets
up its laws as binding above the State laws, wherever the two come
in conflict this claim must be resisted and suppressed at whatever
cost.

Up to the Mexican war there were a few out and out
abolitionists, men who carried their hostility to slavery into all
elections, from those for a justice of the peace up to the
Presidency of the United States. They were noisy but not numerous.
But the great majority of people at the North, where slavery did
not exist, were opposed to the institution, and looked upon its
existence in any part of the country as unfortunate. They did not
hold the States where slavery existed responsible for it; and
believed that protection should be given to the right of property
in slaves until some satisfactory way could be reached to be rid of
the institution. Opposition to slavery was not a creed of either
political party. In some sections more anti-slavery men belonged to
the Democratic party, and in others to the Whigs. But with the
inauguration of the Mexican war, in fact with the annexation of
Texas, “the inevitable conflict” commenced.

As the time for the Presidential election of 1856—the
first at which I had the opportunity of voting—approached,
party feeling began to run high. The Republican party was regarded
in the South and the border States not only as opposed to the
extension of slavery, but as favoring the compulsory abolition of
the institution without compensation to the owners. The most
horrible visions seemed to present themselves to the minds of
people who, one would suppose, ought to have known better. Many
educated and, otherwise, sensible persons appeared to believe that
emancipation meant social equality. Treason to the Government was
openly advocated and was not rebuked. It was evident to my mind
that the election of a Republican President in 1856 meant the
secession of all the Slave States, and rebellion. Under these
circumstances I preferred the success of a candidate whose election
would prevent or postpone secession, to seeing the country plunged
into a war the end of which no man could foretell. With a Democrat
elected by the unanimous vote of the Slave States, there could be
no pretext for secession for four years. I very much hoped that the
passions of the people would subside in that time, and the
catastrophe be averted altogether; if it was not, I believed the
country would be better prepared to receive the shock and to resist
it. I therefore voted for James Buchanan for President. Four years
later the Republican party was successful in electing its candidate
to the Presidency. The civilized world has learned the consequence.
Four millions of human beings held as chattels have been liberated;
the ballot has been given to them; the free schools of the country
have been opened to their children. The nation still lives, and the
people are just as free to avoid social intimacy with the blacks as
ever they were, or as they are with white people.

While living in Galena I was nominally only a clerk supporting
myself and family on a stipulated salary. In reality my position
was different. My father had never lived in Galena himself, but had
established my two brothers there, the one next younger than myself
in charge of the business, assisted by the youngest. When I went
there it was my father’s intention to give up all connection with
the business himself, and to establish his three sons in it: but
the brother who had really built up the business was sinking with
consumption, and it was not thought best to make any change while
he was in this condition. He lived until September, 1861, when he
succumbed to that insidious disease which always flatters its
victims into the belief that they are growing better up to the
close of life. A more honorable man never transacted business. In
September, 1861, I was engaged in an employment which required all
my attention elsewhere.

During the eleven months that I lived in Galena prior to the
first call for volunteers, I had been strictly attentive to my
business, and had made but few acquaintances other than customers
and people engaged in the same line with myself. When the election
took place in November, 1860, I had not been a resident of Illinois
long enough to gain citizenship and could not, therefore, vote. I
was really glad of this at the time, for my pledges would have
compelled me to vote for Stephen A. Douglas, who had no possible
chance of election. The contest was really between Mr. Breckinridge
and Mr. Lincoln; between minority rule and rule by the majority. I
wanted, as between these candidates, to see Mr. Lincoln elected.
Excitement ran high during the canvass, and torch-light processions
enlivened the scene in the generally quiet streets of Galena many
nights during the campaign. I did not parade with either party, but
occasionally met with the “wide awakes”—Republicans—in
their rooms, and superintended their drill. It was evident, from
the time of the Chicago nomination to the close of the canvass,
that the election of the Republican candidate would be the signal
for some of the Southern States to secede. I still had hopes that
the four years which had elapsed since the first nomination of a
Presidential candidate by a party distinctly opposed to slavery
extension, had given time for the extreme pro-slavery sentiment to
cool down; for the Southerners to think well before they took the
awful leap which they had so vehemently threatened. But I was
mistaken.

The Republican candidate was elected, and solid substantial
people of the North-west, and I presume the same order of people
throughout the entire North, felt very serious, but determined,
after this event. It was very much discussed whether the South
would carry out its threat to secede and set up a separate
government, the corner-stone of which should be, protection to the
“Divine” institution of slavery. For there were people who believed
in the “divinity” of human slavery, as there are now people who
believe Mormonism and Polygamy to be ordained by the Most High. We
forgive them for entertaining such notions, but forbid their
practice. It was generally believed that there would be a flurry;
that some of the extreme Southern States would go so far as to pass
ordinances of secession. But the common impression was that this
step was so plainly suicidal for the South, that the movement would
not spread over much of the territory and would not last long.

Doubtless the founders of our government, the majority of them
at least, regarded the confederation of the colonies as an
experiment. Each colony considered itself a separate government;
that the confederation was for mutual protection against a foreign
foe, and the prevention of strife and war among themselves. If
there had been a desire on the part of any single State to withdraw
from the compact at any time while the number of States was limited
to the original thirteen, I do not suppose there would have been
any to contest the right, no matter how much the determination
might have been regretted. The problem changed on the ratification
of the Constitution by all the colonies; it changed still more when
amendments were added; and if the right of any one State to
withdraw continued to exist at all after the ratification of the
Constitution, it certainly ceased on the formation of new States,
at least so far as the new States themselves were concerned. It was
never possessed at all by Florida or the States west of the
Mississippi, all of which were purchased by the treasury of the
entire nation. Texas and the territory brought into the Union in
consequence of annexation, were purchased with both blood and
treasure; and Texas, with a domain greater than that of any
European state except Russia, was permitted to retain as state
property all the public lands within its borders. It would have
been ingratitude and injustice of the most flagrant sort for this
State to withdraw from the Union after all that had been spent and
done to introduce her; yet, if separation had actually occurred,
Texas must necessarily have gone with the South, both on account of
her institutions and her geographical position. Secession was
illogical as well as impracticable; it was revolution.

Now, the right of revolution is an inherent one. When people are
oppressed by their government, it is a natural right they enjoy to
relieve themselves of the oppression, if they are strong enough,
either by withdrawal from it, or by overthrowing it and
substituting a government more acceptable. But any people or part
of a people who resort to this remedy, stake their lives, their
property, and every claim for protection given by
citizenship—on the issue. Victory, or the conditions imposed
by the conqueror—must be the result.

In the case of the war between the States it would have been the
exact truth if the South had said,—”We do not want to live
with you Northern people any longer; we know our institution of
slavery is obnoxious to you, and, as you are growing numerically
stronger than we, it may at some time in the future be endangered.
So long as you permitted us to control the government, and with the
aid of a few friends at the North to enact laws constituting your
section a guard against the escape of our property, we were willing
to live with you. You have been submissive to our rule heretofore;
but it looks now as if you did not intend to continue so, and we
will remain in the Union no longer.” Instead of this the seceding
States cried lustily,—”Let us alone; you have no
constitutional power to interfere with us.” Newspapers and people
at the North reiterated the cry. Individuals might ignore the
constitution; but the Nation itself must not only obey it, but must
enforce the strictest construction of that instrument; the
construction put upon it by the Southerners themselves. The fact is
the constitution did not apply to any such contingency as the one
existing from 1861 to 1865. Its framers never dreamed of such a
contingency occurring. If they had foreseen it, the probabilities
are they would have sanctioned the right of a State or States to
withdraw rather than that there should be war between brothers.

The framers were wise in their generation and wanted to do the
very best possible to secure their own liberty and independence,
and that also of their descendants to the latest days. It is
preposterous to suppose that the people of one generation can lay
down the best and only rules of government for all who are to come
after them, and under unforeseen contingencies. At the time of the
framing of our constitution the only physical forces that had been
subdued and made to serve man and do his labor, were the currents
in the streams and in the air we breathe. Rude machinery, propelled
by water power, had been invented; sails to propel ships upon the
waters had been set to catch the passing breeze—but the
application of stream to propel vessels against both wind and
current, and machinery to do all manner of work had not been
thought of. The instantaneous transmission of messages around the
world by means of electricity would probably at that day have been
attributed to witchcraft or a league with the Devil. Immaterial
circumstances had changed as greatly as material ones. We could not
and ought not to be rigidly bound by the rules laid down under
circumstances so different for emergencies so utterly
unanticipated. The fathers themselves would have been the first to
declare that their prerogatives were not irrevocable. They would
surely have resisted secession could they have lived to see the
shape it assumed.

I travelled through the Northwest considerably during the winter
of 1860-1. We had customers in all the little towns in south-west
Wisconsin, south-east Minnesota and north-east Iowa. These
generally knew I had been a captain in the regular army and had
served through the Mexican war. Consequently wherever I stopped at
night, some of the people would come to the public-house where I
was, and sit till a late hour discussing the probabilities of the
future. My own views at that time were like those officially
expressed by Mr. Seward at a later day, that “the war would be over
in ninety days.” I continued to entertain these views until after
the battle of Shiloh. I believe now that there would have been no
more battles at the West after the capture of Fort Donelson if all
the troops in that region had been under a single commander who
would have followed up that victory.

There is little doubt in my mind now that the prevailing
sentiment of the South would have been opposed to secession in 1860
and 1861, if there had been a fair and calm expression of opinion,
unbiased by threats, and if the ballot of one legal voter had
counted for as much as that of any other. But there was no calm
discussion of the question. Demagogues who were too old to enter
the army if there should be a war, others who entertained so high
an opinion of their own ability that they did not believe they
could be spared from the direction of the affairs of state in such
an event, declaimed vehemently and unceasingly against the North;
against its aggressions upon the South; its interference with
Southern rights, etc., etc. They denounced the Northerners as
cowards, poltroons, negro-worshippers; claimed that one Southern
man was equal to five Northern men in battle; that if the South
would stand up for its rights the North would back down. Mr.
Jefferson Davis said in a speech, delivered at La Grange,
Mississippi, before the secession of that State, that he would
agree to drink all the blood spilled south of Mason and Dixon’s
line if there should be a war. The young men who would have the
fighting to do in case of war, believed all these statements, both
in regard to the aggressiveness of the North and its cowardice.
They, too, cried out for a separation from such people. The great
bulk of the legal voters of the South were men who owned no slaves;
their homes were generally in the hills and poor country; their
facilities for educating their children, even up to the point of
reading and writing, were very limited; their interest in the
contest was very meagre—what there was, if they had been
capable of seeing it, was with the North; they too needed
emancipation. Under the old regime they were looked down upon by
those who controlled all the affairs in the interest of
slave-owners, as poor white trash who were allowed the ballot so
long as they cast it according to direction.

I am aware that this last statement may be disputed and
individual testimony perhaps adduced to show that in ante-bellum
days the ballot was as untrammelled in the south as in any section
of the country; but in the face of any such contradiction I
reassert the statement. The shot-gun was not resorted to. Masked
men did not ride over the country at night intimidating voters; but
there was a firm feeling that a class existed in every State with a
sort of divine right to control public affairs. If they could not
get this control by one means they must by another. The end
justified the means. The coercion, if mild, was complete.

There were two political parties, it is true, in all the States,
both strong in numbers and respectability, but both equally loyal
to the institution which stood paramount in Southern eyes to all
other institutions in state or nation. The slave-owners were the
minority, but governed both parties. Had politics ever divided the
slave-holders and the non-slave-holders, the majority would have
been obliged to yield, or internecine war would have been the
consequence. I do not know that the Southern people were to blame
for this condition of affairs. There was a time when slavery was
not profitable, and the discussion of the merits of the institution
was confined almost exclusively to the territory where it existed.
The States of Virginia and Kentucky came near abolishing slavery by
their own acts, one State defeating the measure by a tie vote and
the other only lacking one. But when the institution became
profitable, all talk of its abolition ceased where it existed; and
naturally, as human nature is constituted, arguments were adduced
in its support. The cotton-gin probably had much to do with the
justification of slavery.

The winter of 1860-1 will be remembered by middle-aged people of
to-day as one of great excitement. South Carolina promptly seceded
after the result of the Presidential election was known. Other
Southern States proposed to follow. In some of them the Union
sentiment was so strong that it had to be suppressed by force.
Maryland, Delaware, Kentucky and Missouri, all Slave States, failed
to pass ordinances of secession; but they were all represented in
the so-called congress of the so-called Confederate States. The
Governor and Lieutenant-Governor of Missouri, in 1861, Jackson and
Reynolds, were both supporters of the rebellion and took refuge
with the enemy. The governor soon died, and the lieutenant-governor
assumed his office; issued proclamations as governor of the State;
was recognized as such by the Confederate Government, and continued
his pretensions until the collapse of the rebellion. The South
claimed the sovereignty of States, but claimed the right to coerce
into their confederation such States as they wanted, that is, all
the States where slavery existed. They did not seem to think this
course inconsistent. The fact is, the Southern slave-owners
believed that, in some way, the ownership of slaves conferred a
sort of patent of nobility—a right to govern independent of
the interest or wishes of those who did not hold such property.
They convinced themselves, first, of the divine origin of the
institution and, next, that that particular institution was not
safe in the hands of any body of legislators but themselves.

Meanwhile the Administration of President Buchanan looked
helplessly on and proclaimed that the general government had no
power to interfere; that the Nation had no power to save its own
life. Mr. Buchanan had in his cabinet two members at least, who
were as earnest—to use a mild term—in the cause of
secession as Mr. Davis or any Southern statesman. One of them,
Floyd, the Secretary of War, scattered the army so that much of it
could be captured when hostilities should commence, and distributed
the cannon and small arms from Northern arsenals throughout the
South so as to be on hand when treason wanted them. The navy was
scattered in like manner. The President did not prevent his cabinet
preparing for war upon their government, either by destroying its
resources or storing them in the South until a de facto government
was established with Jefferson Davis as its President, and
Montgomery, Alabama, as the Capital. The secessionists had then to
leave the cabinet. In their own estimation they were aliens in the
country which had given them birth. Loyal men were put into their
places. Treason in the executive branch of the government was
estopped. But the harm had already been done. The stable door was
locked after the horse had been stolen.

During all of the trying winter of 1860-1, when the Southerners
were so defiant that they would not allow within their borders the
expression of a sentiment hostile to their views, it was a brave
man indeed who could stand up and proclaim his loyalty to the
Union. On the other hand men at the North—prominent
men—proclaimed that the government had no power to coerce the
South into submission to the laws of the land; that if the North
undertook to raise armies to go south, these armies would have to
march over the dead bodies of the speakers. A portion of the press
of the North was constantly proclaiming similar views. When the
time arrived for the President-elect to go to the capital of the
Nation to be sworn into office, it was deemed unsafe for him to
travel, not only as a President-elect, but as any private citizen
should be allowed to do. Instead of going in a special car,
receiving the good wishes of his constituents at all the stations
along the road, he was obliged to stop on the way and to be
smuggled into the capital. He disappeared from public view on his
journey, and the next the country knew, his arrival was announced
at the capital. There is little doubt that he would have been
assassinated if he had attempted to travel openly throughout his
journey.

CHAPTER XVII.

OUTBREAK OF THE REBELLION—PRESIDING AT A UNION
MEETING—MUSTERING OFFICER OF STATE TROOPS—LYON AT CAMP
JACKSON—SERVICES TENDERED TO THE GOVERNMENT.

The 4th of March, 1861, came, and Abraham Lincoln was sworn to
maintain the Union against all its enemies. The secession of one
State after another followed, until eleven had gone out. On the
11th of April Fort Sumter, a National fort in the harbor of
Charleston, South Carolina, was fired upon by the Southerners and a
few days after was captured. The Confederates proclaimed themselves
aliens, and thereby debarred themselves of all right to claim
protection under the Constitution of the United States. We did not
admit the fact that they were aliens, but all the same, they
debarred themselves of the right to expect better treatment than
people of any other foreign state who make war upon an independent
nation. Upon the firing on Sumter President Lincoln issued his
first call for troops and soon after a proclamation convening
Congress in extra session. The call was for 75,000 volunteers for
ninety days’ service. If the shot fired at Fort Sumter “was heard
around the world,” the call of the President for 75,000 men was
heard throughout the Northern States. There was not a state in the
North of a million of inhabitants that would not have furnished the
entire number faster than arms could have been supplied to them, if
it had been necessary.

As soon as the news of the call for volunteers reached Galena,
posters were stuck up calling for a meeting of the citizens at the
court-house in the evening. Business ceased entirely; all was
excitement; for a time there were no party distinctions; all were
Union men, determined to avenge the insult to the national flag. In
the evening the court-house was packed. Although a comparative
stranger I was called upon to preside; the sole reason, possibly,
was that I had been in the army and had seen service. With much
embarrassment and some prompting I made out to announce the object
of the meeting. Speeches were in order, but it is doubtful whether
it would have been safe just then to make other than patriotic
ones. There was probably no one in the house, however, who felt
like making any other. The two principal speeches were by B. B.
Howard, the post-master and a Breckinridge Democrat at the November
election the fall before, and John A. Rawlins, an elector on the
Douglas ticket. E. B. Washburne, with whom I was not acquainted at
that time, came in after the meeting had been organized, and
expressed, I understood afterwards, a little surprise that Galena
could not furnish a presiding officer for such an occasion without
taking a stranger. He came forward and was introduced, and made a
speech appealing to the patriotism of the meeting.

After the speaking was over volunteers were called for to form a
company. The quota of Illinois had been fixed at six regiments; and
it was supposed that one company would be as much as would be
accepted from Galena. The company was raised and the officers and
non-commissioned officers elected before the meeting adjourned. I
declined the captaincy before the balloting, but announced that I
would aid the company in every way I could and would be found in
the service in some position if there should be a war. I never went
into our leather store after that meeting, to put up a package or
do other business.

The ladies of Galena were quite as patriotic as the men. They
could not enlist, but they conceived the idea of sending their
first company to the field uniformed. They came to me to get a
description of the United States uniform for infantry; subscribed
and bought the material; procured tailors to cut out the garments,
and the ladies made them up. In a few days the company was in
uniform and ready to report at the State capital for assignment.
The men all turned out the morning after their enlistment, and I
took charge, divided them into squads and superintended their
drill. When they were ready to go to Springfield I went with them
and remained there until they were assigned to a regiment.

There were so many more volunteers than had been called for that
the question whom to accept was quite embarrassing to the governor,
Richard Yates. The legislature was in session at the time, however,
and came to his relief. A law was enacted authorizing the governor
to accept the services of ten additional regiments, one from each
congressional district, for one month, to be paid by the State, but
pledged to go into the service of the United States if there should
be a further call during their term. Even with this relief the
governor was still very much embarrassed. Before the war was over
he was like the President when he was taken with the varioloid: “at
last he had something he could give to all who wanted it.”

In time the Galena company was mustered into the United States
service, forming a part of the 11th Illinois volunteer infantry. My
duties, I thought, had ended at Springfield, and I was prepared to
start home by the evening train, leaving at nine o’clock. Up to
that time I do not think I had been introduced to Governor Yates,
or had ever spoken to him. I knew him by sight, however, because he
was living at the same hotel and I often saw him at table. The
evening I was to quit the capital I left the supper room before the
governor and was standing at the front door when he came out. He
spoke to me, calling me by my old army title “Captain,” and said he
understood that I was about leaving the city. I answered that I
was. He said he would be glad if I would remain over-night and call
at the Executive office the next morning. I complied with his
request, and was asked to go into the Adjutant-General’s office and
render such assistance as I could, the governor saying that my army
experience would be of great service there. I accepted the
proposition.

My old army experience I found indeed of very great service. I
was no clerk, nor had I any capacity to become one. The only place
I ever found in my life to put a paper so as to find it again was
either a side coat-pocket or the hands of a clerk or secretary more
careful than myself. But I had been quartermaster, commissary and
adjutant in the field. The army forms were familiar to me and I
could direct how they should be made out. There was a clerk in the
office of the Adjutant-General who supplied my deficiencies. The
ease with which the State of Illinois settled its accounts with the
government at the close of the war is evidence of the efficiency of
Mr. Loomis as an accountant on a large scale. He remained in the
office until that time.

As I have stated, the legislature authorized the governor to
accept the services of ten additional regiments. I had charge of
mustering these regiments into the State service. They were
assembled at the most convenient railroad centres in their
respective congressional districts. I detailed officers to muster
in a portion of them, but mustered three in the southern part of
the State myself. One of these was to assemble at Belleville, some
eighteen miles south-east of St. Louis. When I got there I found
that only one or two companies had arrived. There was no
probability of the regiment coming together under five days. This
gave me a few idle days which I concluded to spend in St.
Louis.

There was a considerable force of State militia at Camp Jackson,
on the outskirts of St. Louis, at the time. There is but little
doubt that it was the design of Governor Claiborn Jackson to have
these troops ready to seize the United States arsenal and the city
of St. Louis. Why they did not do so I do not know. There was but a
small garrison, two companies I think, under Captain N. Lyon at the
arsenal, and but for the timely services of the Hon. F. P. Blair, I
have little doubt that St. Louis would have gone into rebel hands,
and with it the arsenal with all its arms and ammunition.

Blair was a leader among the Union men of St. Louis in 1861.
There was no State government in Missouri at the time that would
sanction the raising of troops or commissioned officers to protect
United States property, but Blair had probably procured some form
of authority from the President to raise troops in Missouri and to
muster them into the service of the United States. At all events,
he did raise a regiment and took command himself as Colonel. With
this force he reported to Captain Lyon and placed himself and
regiment under his orders. It was whispered that Lyon thus
reinforced intended to break up Camp Jackson and capture the
militia. I went down to the arsenal in the morning to see the
troops start out. I had known Lyon for two years at West Point and
in the old army afterwards. Blair I knew very well by sight. I had
heard him speak in the canvass of 1858, possibly several times, but
I had never spoken to him. As the troops marched out of the
enclosure around the arsenal, Blair was on his horse outside
forming them into line preparatory to their march. I introduced
myself to him and had a few moments’ conversation and expressed my
sympathy with his purpose. This was my first personal acquaintance
with the Honorable—afterwards Major-General F. P. Blair. Camp
Jackson surrendered without a fight and the garrison was marched
down to the arsenal as prisoners of war.

Up to this time the enemies of the government in St. Louis had
been bold and defiant, while Union men were quiet but determined.
The enemies had their head-quarters in a central and public
position on Pine Street, near Fifth—from which the rebel flag
was flaunted boldly. The Union men had a place of meeting somewhere
in the city, I did not know where, and I doubt whether they dared
to enrage the enemies of the government by placing the national
flag outside their head-quarters. As soon as the news of the
capture of Camp Jackson reached the city the condition of affairs
was changed. Union men became rampant, aggressive, and, if you
will, intolerant. They proclaimed their sentiments boldly, and were
impatient at anything like disrespect for the Union. The
secessionists became quiet but were filled with suppressed rage.
They had been playing the bully. The Union men ordered the rebel
flag taken down from the building on Pine Street. The command was
given in tones of authority and it was taken down, never to be
raised again in St. Louis.

I witnessed the scene. I had heard of the surrender of the camp
and that the garrison was on its way to the arsenal. I had seen the
troops start out in the morning and had wished them success. I now
determined to go to the arsenal and await their arrival and
congratulate them. I stepped on a car standing at the corner of 4th
and Pine streets, and saw a crowd of people standing quietly in
front of the head-quarters, who were there for the purpose of
hauling down the flag. There were squads of other people at
intervals down the street. They too were quiet but filled with
suppressed rage, and muttered their resentment at the insult to,
what they called, “their” flag. Before the car I was in had
started, a dapper little fellow—he would be called a dude at
this day—stepped in. He was in a great state of excitement
and used adjectives freely to express his contempt for the Union
and for those who had just perpetrated such an outrage upon the
rights of a free people. There was only one other passenger in the
car besides myself when this young man entered. He evidently
expected to find nothing but sympathy when he got away from the
“mud sills” engaged in compelling a “free people” to pull down a
flag they adored. He turned to me saying: “Things have come to a
—— pretty pass when a free people can’t choose their
own flag. Where I came from if a man dares to say a word in favor
of the Union we hang him to a limb of the first tree we come to.” I
replied that “after all we were not so intolerant in St. Louis as
we might be; I had not seen a single rebel hung yet, nor heard of
one; there were plenty of them who ought to be, however.” The young
man subsided. He was so crestfallen that I believe if I had ordered
him to leave the car he would have gone quietly out, saying to
himself: “More Yankee oppression.”

By nightfall the late defenders of Camp Jackson were all within
the walls of the St. Louis arsenal, prisoners of war. The next day
I left St. Louis for Mattoon, Illinois, where I was to muster in
the regiment from that congressional district. This was the 21st
Illinois infantry, the regiment of which I subsequently became
colonel. I mustered one regiment afterwards, when my services for
the State were about closed.

Brigadier-General John Pope was stationed at Springfield, as
United States mustering officer, all the time I was in the State
service. He was a native of Illinois and well acquainted with most
of the prominent men in the State. I was a carpet-bagger and knew
but few of them. While I was on duty at Springfield the senators,
representatives in Congress, ax-governors and the State legislators
were nearly all at the State capital. The only acquaintance I made
among them was with the governor, whom I was serving, and, by
chance, with Senator S. A. Douglas. The only members of Congress I
knew were Washburne and Philip Foulk. With the former, though he
represented my district and we were citizens of the same town, I
only became acquainted at the meeting when the first company of
Galena volunteers was raised. Foulk I had known in St. Louis when I
was a citizen of that city. I had been three years at West Point
with Pope and had served with him a short time during the Mexican
war, under General Taylor. I saw a good deal of him during my
service with the State. On one occasion he said to me that I ought
to go into the United States service. I told him I intended to do
so if there was a war. He spoke of his acquaintance with the public
men of the State, and said he could get them to recommend me for a
position and that he would do all he could for me. I declined to
receive endorsement for permission to fight for my country.

Going home for a day or two soon after this conversation with
General Pope, I wrote from Galena the following letter to the
Adjutant-General of the Army.

GALENA, ILLINOIS, May 24, 1861.

COL. L. THOMAS Adjt. Gen. U. S. A., Washington, D. C.

SIR:—Having served for fifteen years in the regular army,
including four years at West Point, and feeling it the duty of
every one who has been educated at the Government expense to offer
their services for the support of that Government, I have the
honor, very respectfully, to tender my services, until the close of
the war, in such capacity as may be offered. I would say, in view
of my present age and length of service, I feel myself competent to
command a regiment, if the President, in his judgment, should see
fit to intrust one to me.

Since the first call of the President I have been serving on the
staff of the Governor of this State, rendering such aid as I could
in the organization of our State militia, and am still engaged in
that capacity. A letter addressed to me at Springfield, Illinois,
will reach me.

I am very respectfully, Your obt. svt., U. S. GRANT.

This letter failed to elicit an answer from the Adjutant-General
of the Army. I presume it was hardly read by him, and certainly it
could not have been submitted to higher authority. Subsequent to
the war General Badeau having heard of this letter applied to the
War Department for a copy of it. The letter could not be found and
no one recollected ever having seen it. I took no copy when it was
written. Long after the application of General Badeau, General
Townsend, who had become Adjutant-General of the Army, while
packing up papers preparatory to the removal of his office, found
this letter in some out-of-the-way place. It had not been
destroyed, but it had not been regularly filed away.

I felt some hesitation in suggesting rank as high as the
colonelcy of a regiment, feeling somewhat doubtful whether I would
be equal to the position. But I had seen nearly every colonel who
had been mustered in from the State of Illinois, and some from
Indiana, and felt that if they could command a regiment properly,
and with credit, I could also.

Having but little to do after the muster of the last of the
regiments authorized by the State legislature, I asked and obtained
of the governor leave of absence for a week to visit my parents in
Covington, Kentucky, immediately opposite Cincinnati. General
McClellan had been made a major-general and had his headquarters at
Cincinnati. In reality I wanted to see him. I had known him
slightly at West Point, where we served one year together, and in
the Mexican war. I was in hopes that when he saw me he would offer
me a position on his staff. I called on two successive days at his
office but failed to see him on either occasion, and returned to
Springfield.

CHAPTER XVIII.

APPOINTED COLONEL OF THE 21ST ILLINOIS—PERSONNEL OF THE
REGIMENT—GENERAL LOGAN—MARCH TO MISSOURI—MOVEMENT
AGAINST HARRIS AT FLORIDA, MO.—GENERAL POPE IN
COMMAND—STATIONED AT MEXICO, MO.

While I was absent from the State capital on this occasion the
President’s second call for troops was issued. This time it was for
300,000 men, for three years or the war. This brought into the
United States service all the regiments then in the State service.
These had elected their officers from highest to lowest and were
accepted with their organizations as they were, except in two
instances. A Chicago regiment, the 19th infantry, had elected a
very young man to the colonelcy. When it came to taking the field
the regiment asked to have another appointed colonel and the one
they had previously chosen made lieutenant-colonel. The 21st
regiment of infantry, mustered in by me at Mattoon, refused to go
into the service with the colonel of their selection in any
position. While I was still absent Governor Yates appointed me
colonel of this latter regiment. A few days after I was in charge
of it and in camp on the fair grounds near Springfield.

My regiment was composed in large part of young men of as good
social position as any in their section of the State. It embraced
the sons of farmers, lawyers, physicians, politicians, merchants,
bankers and ministers, and some men of maturer years who had filled
such positions themselves. There were also men in it who could be
led astray; and the colonel, elected by the votes of the regiment,
had proved to be fully capable of developing all there was in his
men of recklessness. It was said that he even went so far at times
as to take the guard from their posts and go with them to the
village near by and make a night of it. When there came a prospect
of battle the regiment wanted to have some one else to lead them. I
found it very hard work for a few days to bring all the men into
anything like subordination; but the great majority favored
discipline, and by the application of a little regular army
punishment all were reduced to as good discipline as one could
ask.

The ten regiments which had volunteered in the State service for
thirty days, it will be remembered, had done so with a pledge to go
into the National service if called upon within that time. When
they volunteered the government had only called for ninety days’
enlistments. Men were called now for three years or the war. They
felt that this change of period released them from the obligation
of re-volunteering. When I was appointed colonel, the 21st regiment
was still in the State service. About the time they were to be
mustered into the United States service, such of them as would go,
two members of Congress from the State, McClernand and Logan,
appeared at the capital and I was introduced to them. I had never
seen either of them before, but I had read a great deal about them,
and particularly about Logan, in the newspapers. Both were
democratic members of Congress, and Logan had been elected from the
southern district of the State, where he had a majority of eighteen
thousand over his Republican competitor. His district had been
settled originally by people from the Southern States, and at the
breaking out of secession they sympathized with the South. At the
first outbreak of war some of them joined the Southern army; many
others were preparing to do so; others rode over the country at
night denouncing the Union, and made it as necessary to guard
railroad bridges over which National troops had to pass in southern
Illinois, as it was in Kentucky or any of the border slave states.
Logan’s popularity in this district was unbounded. He knew almost
enough of the people in it by their Christian names, to form an
ordinary congressional district. As he went in politics, so his
district was sure to go. The Republican papers had been demanding
that he should announce where he stood on the questions which at
that time engrossed the whole of public thought. Some were very
bitter in their denunciations of his silence. Logan was not a man
to be coerced into an utterance by threats. He did, however, come
out in a speech before the adjournment of the special session of
Congress which was convened by the President soon after his
inauguration, and announced his undying loyalty and devotion to the
Union. But I had not happened to see that speech, so that when I
first met Logan my impressions were those formed from reading
denunciations of him. McClernand, on the other hand, had early
taken strong grounds for the maintenance of the Union and had been
praised accordingly by the Republican papers. The gentlemen who
presented these two members of Congress asked me if I would have
any objections to their addressing my regiment. I hesitated a
little before answering. It was but a few days before the time set
for mustering into the United States service such of the men as
were willing to volunteer for three years or the war. I had some
doubt as to the effect a speech from Logan might have; but as he
was with McClernand, whose sentiments on the all-absorbing
questions of the day were well known, I gave my consent. McClernand
spoke first; and Logan followed in a speech which he has hardly
equalled since for force and eloquence. It breathed a loyalty and
devotion to the Union which inspired my men to such a point that
they would have volunteered to remain in the army as long as an
enemy of the country continued to bear arms against it. They
entered the United States service almost to a man.

General Logan went to his part of the State and gave his
attention to raising troops. The very men who at first made it
necessary to guard the roads in southern Illinois became the
defenders of the Union. Logan entered the service himself as
colonel of a regiment and rapidly rose to the rank of
major-general. His district, which had promised at first to give
much trouble to the government, filled every call made upon it for
troops, without resorting to the draft. There was no call made when
there were not more volunteers than were asked for. That
congressional district stands credited at the War Department to-day
with furnishing more men for the army than it was called on to
supply.

I remained in Springfield with my regiment until the 3d of July,
when I was ordered to Quincy, Illinois. By that time the regiment
was in a good state of discipline and the officers and men were
well up in the company drill. There was direct railroad
communication between Springfield and Quincy, but I thought it
would be good preparation for the troops to march there. We had no
transportation for our camp and garrison equipage, so wagons were
hired for the occasion and on the 3d of July we started. There was
no hurry, but fair marches were made every day until the Illinois
River was crossed. There I was overtaken by a dispatch saying that
the destination of the regiment had been changed to Ironton,
Missouri, and ordering me to halt where I was and await the arrival
of a steamer which had been dispatched up the Illinois River to
take the regiment to St. Louis. The boat, when it did come,
grounded on a sand-bar a few miles below where we were in camp. We
remained there several days waiting to have the boat get off the
bar, but before this occurred news came that an Illinois regiment
was surrounded by rebels at a point on the Hannibal and St. Joe
Railroad some miles west of Palmyra, in Missouri, and I was ordered
to proceed with all dispatch to their relief. We took the cars and
reached Quincy in a few hours.

When I left Galena for the last time to take command of the 21st
regiment I took with me my oldest son, Frederick D. Grant, then a
lad of eleven years of age. On receiving the order to take rail for
Quincy I wrote to Mrs. Grant, to relieve what I supposed would be
her great anxiety for one so young going into danger, that I would
send Fred home from Quincy by river. I received a prompt letter in
reply decidedly disapproving my proposition, and urging that the
lad should be allowed to accompany me. It came too late. Fred was
already on his way up the Mississippi bound for Dubuque, Iowa, from
which place there was a railroad to Galena.

My sensations as we approached what I supposed might be “a field
of battle” were anything but agreeable. I had been in all the
engagements in Mexico that it was possible for one person to be in;
but not in command. If some one else had been colonel and I had
been lieutenant-colonel I do not think I would have felt any
trepidation. Before we were prepared to cross the Mississippi River
at Quincy my anxiety was relieved; for the men of the besieged
regiment came straggling into town. I am inclined to think both
sides got frightened and ran away.

I took my regiment to Palmyra and remained there for a few days,
until relieved by the 19th Illinois infantry. From Palmyra I
proceeded to Salt River, the railroad bridge over which had been
destroyed by the enemy. Colonel John M. Palmer at that time
commanded the 13th Illinois, which was acting as a guard to workmen
who were engaged in rebuilding this bridge. Palmer was my senior
and commanded the two regiments as long as we remained together.
The bridge was finished in about two weeks, and I received orders
to move against Colonel Thomas Harris, who was said to be encamped
at the little town of Florida, some twenty-five miles south of
where we then were.

At the time of which I now write we had no transportation and
the country about Salt River was sparsely settled, so that it took
some days to collect teams and drivers enough to move the camp and
garrison equipage of a regiment nearly a thousand strong, together
with a week’s supply of provision and some ammunition. While
preparations for the move were going on I felt quite comfortable;
but when we got on the road and found every house deserted I was
anything but easy. In the twenty-five miles we had to march we did
not see a person, old or young, male or female, except two horsemen
who were on a road that crossed ours. As soon as they saw us they
decamped as fast as their horses could carry them. I kept my men in
the ranks and forbade their entering any of the deserted houses or
taking anything from them. We halted at night on the road and
proceeded the next morning at an early hour. Harris had been
encamped in a creek bottom for the sake of being near water. The
hills on either side of the creek extend to a considerable height,
possibly more than a hundred feet. As we approached the brow of the
hill from which it was expected we could see Harris’ camp, and
possibly find his men ready formed to meet us, my heart kept
getting higher and higher until it felt to me as though it was in
my throat. I would have given anything then to have been back in
Illinois, but I had not the moral courage to halt and consider what
to do; I kept right on. When we reached a point from which the
valley below was in full view I halted. The place where Harris had
been encamped a few days before was still there and the marks of a
recent encampment were plainly visible, but the troops were gone.
My heart resumed its place. It occurred to me at once that Harris
had been as much afraid of me as I had been of him. This was a view
of the question I had never taken before; but it was one I never
forgot afterwards. From that event to the close of the war, I never
experienced trepidation upon confronting an enemy, though I always
felt more or less anxiety. I never forgot that he had as much
reason to fear my forces as I had his. The lesson was valuable.

Inquiries at the village of Florida divulged the fact that
Colonel Harris, learning of my intended movement, while my
transportation was being collected took time by the forelock and
left Florida before I had started from Salt River. He had increased
the distance between us by forty miles. The next day I started back
to my old camp at Salt River bridge. The citizens living on the
line of our march had returned to their houses after we passed, and
finding everything in good order, nothing carried away, they were
at their front doors ready to greet us now. They had evidently been
led to believe that the National troops carried death and
devastation with them wherever they went.

In a short time after our return to Salt River bridge I was
ordered with my regiment to the town of Mexico. General Pope was
then commanding the district embracing all of the State of Missouri
between the Mississippi and Missouri rivers, with his headquarters
in the village of Mexico. I was assigned to the command of a
sub-district embracing the troops in the immediate neighborhood,
some three regiments of infantry and a section of artillery. There
was one regiment encamped by the side of mine. I assumed command of
the whole and the first night sent the commander of the other
regiment the parole and countersign. Not wishing to be outdone in
courtesy, he immediately sent me the countersign for his regiment
for the night. When he was informed that the countersign sent to
him was for use with his regiment as well as mine, it was difficult
to make him understand that this was not an unwarranted
interference of one colonel over another. No doubt he attributed it
for the time to the presumption of a graduate of West Point over a
volunteer pure and simple. But the question was soon settled and we
had no further trouble.

My arrival in Mexico had been preceded by that of two or three
regiments in which proper discipline had not been maintained, and
the men had been in the habit of visiting houses without invitation
and helping themselves to food and drink, or demanding them from
the occupants. They carried their muskets while out of camp and
made every man they found take the oath of allegiance to the
government. I at once published orders prohibiting the soldiers
from going into private houses unless invited by the inhabitants,
and from appropriating private property to their own or to
government uses. The people were no longer molested or made afraid.
I received the most marked courtesy from the citizens of Mexico as
long as I remained there.

Up to this time my regiment had not been carried in the school
of the soldier beyond the company drill, except that it had
received some training on the march from Springfield to the
Illinois River. There was now a good opportunity of exercising it
in the battalion drill. While I was at West Point the tactics used
in the army had been Scott’s and the musket the flint lock. I had
never looked at a copy of tactics from the time of my graduation.
My standing in that branch of studies had been near the foot of the
class. In the Mexican war in the summer of 1846, I had been
appointed regimental quartermaster and commissary and had not been
at a battalion drill since. The arms had been changed since then
and Hardee’s tactics had been adopted. I got a copy of tactics and
studied one lesson, intending to confine the exercise of the first
day to the commands I had thus learned. By pursuing this course
from day to day I thought I would soon get through the volume.

We were encamped just outside of town on the common, among
scattering suburban houses with enclosed gardens, and when I got my
regiment in line and rode to the front I soon saw that if I
attempted to follow the lesson I had studied I would have to clear
away some of the houses and garden fences to make room. I perceived
at once, however, that Hardee’s tactics—a mere translation
from the French with Hardee’s name attached—was nothing more
than common sense and the progress of the age applied to Scott’s
system. The commands were abbreviated and the movement expedited.
Under the old tactics almost every change in the order of march was
preceded by a “halt,” then came the change, and then the “forward
march.” With the new tactics all these changes could be made while
in motion. I found no trouble in giving commands that would take my
regiment where I wanted it to go and carry it around all obstacles.
I do not believe that the officers of the regiment ever discovered
that I had never studied the tactics that I used.

CHAPTER XIX.

COMMISSIONED BRIGADIER-GENERAL—COMMAND AT IRONTON,
MO.—JEFFERSON CITY—CAPE GIRARDEAU—GENERAL
PRENTISS—SEIZURE OF PADUCAH—HEADQUARTERS AT CAIRO.

I had not been in Mexico many weeks when, reading a St. Louis
paper, I found the President had asked the Illinois delegation in
Congress to recommend some citizens of the State for the position
of brigadier-general, and that they had unanimously recommended me
as first on a list of seven. I was very much surprised because, as
I have said, my acquaintance with the Congressmen was very limited
and I did not know of anything I had done to inspire such
confidence. The papers of the next day announced that my name, with
three others, had been sent to the Senate, and a few days after our
confirmation was announced.

When appointed brigadier-general I at once thought it proper
that one of my aides should come from the regiment I had been
commanding, and so selected Lieutenant C. B. Lagow. While living in
St. Louis, I had had a desk in the law office of McClellan, Moody
and Hillyer. Difference in views between the members of the firm on
the questions of the day, and general hard times in the border
cities, had broken up this firm. Hillyer was quite a young man,
then in his twenties, and very brilliant. I asked him to accept a
place on my staff. I also wanted to take one man from my new home,
Galena. The canvass in the Presidential campaign the fall before
had brought out a young lawyer by the name of John A. Rawlins, who
proved himself one of the ablest speakers in the State. He was also
a candidate for elector on the Douglas ticket. When Sumter was
fired upon and the integrity of the Union threatened, there was no
man more ready to serve his country than he. I wrote at once asking
him to accept the position of assistant adjutant-general with the
rank of captain, on my staff. He was about entering the service as
major of a new regiment then organizing in the north-western part
of the State; but he threw this up and accepted my offer.

Neither Hillyer nor Lagow proved to have any particular taste or
special qualifications for the duties of the soldier, and the
former resigned during the Vicksburg campaign; the latter I
relieved after the battle of Chattanooga. Rawlins remained with me
as long as he lived, and rose to the rank of brigadier general and
chief-of-staff to the General of the Army—an office created
for him—before the war closed. He was an able man, possessed
of great firmness, and could say “no” so emphatically to a request
which he thought should not be granted that the person he was
addressing would understand at once that there was no use of
pressing the matter. General Rawlins was a very useful officer in
other ways than this. I became very much attached to him.

Shortly after my promotion I was ordered to Ironton, Missouri,
to command a district in that part of the State, and took the 21st
Illinois, my old regiment, with me. Several other regiments were
ordered to the same destination about the same time. Ironton is on
the Iron Mountain railroad, about seventy miles south of St. Louis,
and situated among hills rising almost to the dignity of mountains.
When I reached there, about the 8th of August, Colonel B. Gratz
Brown—afterwards Governor of Missouri and in 1872
Vice-Presidential candidate—was in command. Some of his
troops were ninety days’ men and their time had expired some time
before. The men had no clothing but what they had volunteered in,
and much of this was so worn that it would hardly stay on. General
Hardee—the author of the tactics I did not study—was at
Greenville some twenty-five miles further south, it was said, with
five thousand Confederate troops. Under these circumstances Colonel
Brown’s command was very much demoralized. A squadron of cavalry
could have ridden into the valley and captured the entire force.
Brown himself was gladder to see me on that occasion than he ever
has been since. I relieved him and sent all his men home within a
day or two, to be mustered out of service.

Within ten days after reaching Ironton I was prepared to take the
offensive against the enemy at Greenville. I sent a column east out
of the valley we were in, with orders to swing around to the south
and west and come into the Greenville road ten miles south of
Ironton. Another column marched on the direct road and went into
camp at the point designated for the two columns to meet. I was to
ride out the next morning and take personal command of the
movement. My experience against Harris, in northern Missouri, had
inspired me with confidence. But when the evening train came in, it
brought General B. M. Prentiss with orders to take command of the
district. His orders did not relieve me, but I knew that by law I
was senior, and at that time even the President did not have the
authority to assign a junior to command a senior of the same grade.
I therefore gave General Prentiss the situation of the troops and
the general condition of affairs, and started for St. Louis the
same day. The movement against the rebels at Greenville went no
further.

From St. Louis I was ordered to Jefferson City, the capital of
the State, to take command. General Sterling Price, of the
Confederate army, was thought to be threatening the capital,
Lexington, Chillicothe and other comparatively large towns in the
central part of Missouri. I found a good many troops in Jefferson
City, but in the greatest confusion, and no one person knew where
they all were. Colonel Mulligan, a gallant man, was in command, but
he had not been educated as yet to his new profession and did not
know how to maintain discipline. I found that volunteers had
obtained permission from the department commander, or claimed they
had, to raise, some of them, regiments; some battalions; some
companies—the officers to be commissioned according to the
number of men they brought into the service. There were recruiting
stations all over town, with notices, rudely lettered on boards
over the doors, announcing the arm of service and length of time
for which recruits at that station would be received. The law
required all volunteers to serve for three years or the war. But in
Jefferson City in August, 1861, they were recruited for different
periods and on different conditions; some were enlisted for six
months, some for a year, some without any condition as to where
they were to serve, others were not to be sent out of the State.
The recruits were principally men from regiments stationed there
and already in the service, bound for three years if the war lasted
that long.

The city was filled with Union fugitives who had been driven by
guerilla bands to take refuge with the National troops. They were
in a deplorable condition and must have starved but for the support
the government gave them. They had generally made their escape with
a team or two, sometimes a yoke of oxen with a mule or a horse in
the lead. A little bedding besides their clothing and some food had
been thrown into the wagon. All else of their worldly goods were
abandoned and appropriated by their former neighbors; for the Union
man in Missouri who staid at home during the rebellion, if he was
not immediately under the protection of the National troops, was at
perpetual war with his neighbors. I stopped the recruiting service,
and disposed the troops about the outskirts of the city so as to
guard all approaches. Order was soon restored.

I had been at Jefferson City but a few days when I was directed
from department headquarters to fit out an expedition to Lexington,
Booneville and Chillicothe, in order to take from the banks in
those cities all the funds they had and send them to St. Louis. The
western army had not yet been supplied with transportation. It
became necessary therefore to press into the service teams
belonging to sympathizers with the rebellion or to hire those of
Union men. This afforded an opportunity of giving employment to
such of the refugees within our lines as had teams suitable for our
purposes. They accepted the service with alacrity. As fast as
troops could be got off they were moved west some twenty miles or
more. In seven or eight days from my assuming command at Jefferson
City, I had all the troops, except a small garrison, at an advanced
position and expected to join them myself the next day.

But my campaigns had not yet begun, for while seated at my
office door, with nothing further to do until it was time to start
for the front, I saw an officer of rank approaching, who proved to
be Colonel Jefferson C. Davis. I had never met him before, but he
introduced himself by handing me an order for him to proceed to
Jefferson City and relieve me of the command. The orders directed
that I should report at department headquarters at St. Louis
without delay, to receive important special instructions. It was
about an hour before the only regular train of the day would start.
I therefore turned over to Colonel Davis my orders, and hurriedly
stated to him the progress that had been made to carry out the
department instructions already described. I had at that time but
one staff officer, doing myself all the detail work usually
performed by an adjutant-general. In an hour after being relieved
from the command I was on my way to St. Louis, leaving my single
staff officer [C. B. Lagow, the others not yet having joined me.]
to follow the next day with our horses and baggage.

The “important special instructions” which I received the next
day, assigned me to the command of the district of south-east
Missouri, embracing all the territory south of St. Louis, in
Missouri, as well as all southern Illinois. At first I was to take
personal command of a combined expedition that had been ordered for
the capture of Colonel Jeff. Thompson, a sort of independent or
partisan commander who was disputing with us the possession of
south-east Missouri. Troops had been ordered to move from Ironton
to Cape Girardeau, sixty or seventy miles to the south-east, on the
Mississippi River; while the forces at Cape Girardeau had been
ordered to move to Jacksonville, ten miles out towards Ironton; and
troops at Cairo and Bird’s Point, at the junction of the Ohio and
Mississippi rivers, were to hold themselves in readiness to go down
the Mississippi to Belmont, eighteen miles below, to be moved west
from there when an officer should come to command them. I was the
officer who had been selected for this purpose. Cairo was to become
my headquarters when the expedition terminated.

In pursuance of my orders I established my temporary
headquarters at Cape Girardeau and sent instructions to the
commanding officer at Jackson, to inform me of the approach of
General Prentiss from Ironton. Hired wagons were kept moving night
and day to take additional rations to Jackson, to supply the troops
when they started from there. Neither General Prentiss nor Colonel
Marsh, who commanded at Jackson, knew their destination. I drew up
all the instructions for the contemplated move, and kept them in my
pocket until I should hear of the junction of our troops at
Jackson. Two or three days after my arrival at Cape Girardeau, word
came that General Prentiss was approaching that place (Jackson). I
started at once to meet him there and to give him his orders. As I
turned the first corner of a street after starting, I saw a column
of cavalry passing the next street in front of me. I turned and
rode around the block the other way, so as to meet the head of the
column. I found there General Prentiss himself, with a large
escort. He had halted his troops at Jackson for the night, and had
come on himself to Cape Girardeau, leaving orders for his command
to follow him in the morning. I gave the General his
orders—which stopped him at Jackson—but he was very
much aggrieved at being placed under another brigadier-general,
particularly as he believed himself to be the senior. He had been a
brigadier, in command at Cairo, while I was mustering officer at
Springfield without any rank. But we were nominated at the same
time for the United States service, and both our commissions bore
date May 17th, 1861. By virtue of my former army rank I was, by
law, the senior. General Prentiss failed to get orders to his
troops to remain at Jackson, and the next morning early they were
reported as approaching Cape Girardeau. I then ordered the General
very peremptorily to countermarch his command and take it back to
Jackson. He obeyed the order, but bade his command adieu when he
got them to Jackson, and went to St. Louis and reported himself.
This broke up the expedition. But little harm was done, as Jeff.
Thompson moved light and had no fixed place for even nominal
headquarters. He was as much at home in Arkansas as he was in
Missouri and would keep out of the way of a superior force.
Prentiss was sent to another part of the State.

General Prentiss made a great mistake on the above occasion, one
that he would not have committed later in the war. When I came to
know him better, I regretted it much. In consequence of this
occurrence he was off duty in the field when the principal campaign
at the West was going on, and his juniors received promotion while
he was where none could be obtained. He would have been next to
myself in rank in the district of south-east Missouri, by virtue of
his services in the Mexican war. He was a brave and very earnest
soldier. No man in the service was more sincere in his devotion to
the cause for which we were battling; none more ready to make
sacrifices or risk life in it.

On the 4th of September I removed my headquarters to Cairo and
found Colonel Richard Oglesby in command of the post. We had never
met, at least not to my knowledge. After my promotion I had ordered
my brigadier-general’s uniform from New York, but it had not yet
arrived, so that I was in citizen’s dress. The Colonel had his
office full of people, mostly from the neighboring States of
Missouri and Kentucky, making complaints or asking favors. He
evidently did not catch my name when I was presented, for on my
taking a piece of paper from the table where he was seated and
writing the order assuming command of the district of south-east
Missouri, Colonel Richard J. Oglesby to command the post at Bird’s
Point, and handing it to him, he put on an expression of surprise
that looked a little as if he would like to have some one identify
me. But he surrendered the office without question.

The day after I assumed command at Cairo a man came to me who
said he was a scout of General Fremont. He reported that he had
just come from Columbus, a point on the Mississippi twenty miles
below on the Kentucky side, and that troops had started from there,
or were about to start, to seize Paducah, at the mouth of the
Tennessee. There was no time for delay; I reported by telegraph to
the department commander the information I had received, and added
that I was taking steps to get off that night to be in advance of
the enemy in securing that important point. There was a large
number of steamers lying at Cairo and a good many boatmen were
staying in the town. It was the work of only a few hours to get the
boats manned, with coal aboard and steam up. Troops were also
designated to go aboard. The distance from Cairo to Paducah is
about forty-five miles. I did not wish to get there before daylight
of the 6th, and directed therefore that the boats should lie at
anchor out in the stream until the time to start. Not having
received an answer to my first dispatch, I again telegraphed to
department headquarters that I should start for Paducah that night
unless I received further orders. Hearing nothing, we started
before midnight and arrived early the following morning,
anticipating the enemy by probably not over six or eight hours. It
proved very fortunate that the expedition against Jeff. Thompson
had been broken up. Had it not been, the enemy would have seized
Paducah and fortified it, to our very great annoyance.

When the National troops entered the town the citizens were
taken by surprise. I never after saw such consternation depicted on
the faces of the people. Men, women and children came out of their
doors looking pale and frightened at the presence of the invader.
They were expecting rebel troops that day. In fact, nearly four
thousand men from Columbus were at that time within ten or fifteen
miles of Paducah on their way to occupy the place. I had but two
regiments and one battery with me, but the enemy did not know this
and returned to Columbus. I stationed my troops at the best points
to guard the roads leading into the city, left gunboats to guard
the river fronts and by noon was ready to start on my return to
Cairo. Before leaving, however, I addressed a short printed
proclamation to the citizens of Paducah assuring them of our
peaceful intentions, that we had come among them to protect them
against the enemies of our country, and that all who chose could
continue their usual avocations with assurance of the protection of
the government. This was evidently a relief to them; but the
majority would have much preferred the presence of the other army.
I reinforced Paducah rapidly from the troops at Cape Girardeau; and
a day or two later General C. F. Smith, a most accomplished
soldier, reported at Cairo and was assigned to the command of the
post at the mouth of the Tennessee. In a short time it was well
fortified and a detachment was sent to occupy Smithland, at the
mouth of the Cumberland.

The State government of Kentucky at that time was rebel in
sentiment, but wanted to preserve an armed neutrality between the
North and the South, and the governor really seemed to think the
State had a perfect right to maintain a neutral position. The
rebels already occupied two towns in the State, Columbus and
Hickman, on the Mississippi; and at the very moment the National
troops were entering Paducah from the Ohio front, General Lloyd
Tilghman—a Confederate—with his staff and a small
detachment of men, were getting out in the other direction, while,
as I have already said, nearly four thousand Confederate troops
were on Kentucky soil on their way to take possession of the town.
But, in the estimation of the governor and of those who thought
with him, this did not justify the National authorities in invading
the soil of Kentucky. I informed the legislature of the State of
what I was doing, and my action was approved by the majority of
that body. On my return to Cairo I found authority from department
headquarters for me to take Paducah “if I felt strong enough,” but
very soon after I was reprimanded from the same quarters for my
correspondence with the legislature and warned against a repetition
of the offence.

Soon after I took command at Cairo, General Fremont entered into
arrangements for the exchange of the prisoners captured at Camp
Jackson in the month of May. I received orders to pass them through
my lines to Columbus as they presented themselves with proper
credentials. Quite a number of these prisoners I had been
personally acquainted with before the war. Such of them as I had so
known were received at my headquarters as old acquaintances, and
ordinary routine business was not disturbed by their presence. On
one occasion when several were present in my office my intention to
visit Cape Girardeau the next day, to inspect the troops at that
point, was mentioned. Something transpired which postponed my trip;
but a steamer employed by the government was passing a point some
twenty or more miles above Cairo, the next day, when a section of
rebel artillery with proper escort brought her to. A major, one of
those who had been at my headquarters the day before, came at once
aboard and after some search made a direct demand for my delivery.
It was hard to persuade him that I was not there. This officer was
Major Barrett, of St. Louis. I had been acquainted with his family
before the war.

CHAPTER XX.

GENERAL FREMONT IN COMMAND—MOVEMENT AGAINST
BELMONT—BATTLE OF BELMONT—A NARROW ESCAPE—AFTER
THE BATTLE.

From the occupation of Paducah up to the early part of November
nothing important occurred with the troops under my command. I was
reinforced from time to time and the men were drilled and
disciplined preparatory for the service which was sure to come. By
the 1st of November I had not fewer than 20,000 men, most of them
under good drill and ready to meet any equal body of men who, like
themselves, had not yet been in an engagement. They were growing
impatient at lying idle so long, almost in hearing of the guns of
the enemy they had volunteered to fight against. I asked on one or
two occasions to be allowed to move against Columbus. It could have
been taken soon after the occupation of Paducah; but before
November it was so strongly fortified that it would have required a
large force and a long siege to capture it.

In the latter part of October General Fremont took the field in
person and moved from Jefferson City against General Sterling
Price, who was then in the State of Missouri with a considerable
command. About the first of November I was directed from department
headquarters to make a demonstration on both sides of the
Mississippi River with the view of detaining the rebels at Columbus
within their lines. Before my troops could be got off, I was
notified from the same quarter that there were some 3,000 of the
enemy on the St. Francis River about fifty miles west, or
south-west, from Cairo, and was ordered to send another force
against them. I dispatched Colonel Oglesby at once with troops
sufficient to compete with the reported number of the enemy. On the
5th word came from the same source that the rebels were about to
detach a large force from Columbus to be moved by boats down the
Mississippi and up the White River, in Arkansas, in order to
reinforce Price, and I was directed to prevent this movement if
possible. I accordingly sent a regiment from Bird’s Point under
Colonel W. H. L. Wallace to overtake and reinforce Oglesby, with
orders to march to New Madrid, a point some distance below
Columbus, on the Missouri side. At the same time I directed General
C. F. Smith to move all the troops he could spare from Paducah
directly against Columbus, halting them, however, a few miles from
the town to await further orders from me. Then I gathered up all
the troops at Cairo and Fort Holt, except suitable guards, and
moved them down the river on steamers convoyed by two gunboats,
accompanying them myself. My force consisted of a little over 3,000
men and embraced five regiments of infantry, two guns and two
companies of cavalry. We dropped down the river on the 6th to
within about six miles of Columbus, debarked a few men on the
Kentucky side and established pickets to connect with the troops
from Paducah.

I had no orders which contemplated an attack by the National
troops, nor did I intend anything of the kind when I started out
from Cairo; but after we started I saw that the officers and men
were elated at the prospect of at last having the opportunity of
doing what they had volunteered to do—fight the enemies of
their country. I did not see how I could maintain discipline, or
retain the confidence of my command, if we should return to Cairo
without an effort to do something. Columbus, besides being strongly
fortified, contained a garrison much more numerous than the force I
had with me. It would not do, therefore, to attack that point.
About two o’clock on the morning of the 7th, I learned that the
enemy was crossing troops from Columbus to the west bank to be
dispatched, presumably, after Oglesby. I knew there was a small
camp of Confederates at Belmont, immediately opposite Columbus, and
I speedily resolved to push down the river, land on the Missouri
side, capture Belmont, break up the camp and return. Accordingly,
the pickets above Columbus were drawn in at once, and about
daylight the boats moved out from shore. In an hour we were
debarking on the west bank of the Mississippi, just out of range of
the batteries at Columbus.

The ground on the west shore of the river, opposite Columbus, is
low and in places marshy and cut up with sloughs. The soil is rich
and the timber large and heavy. There were some small clearings
between Belmont and the point where we landed, but most of the
country was covered with the native forests. We landed in front of
a cornfield. When the debarkation commenced, I took a regiment down
the river to post it as a guard against surprise. At that time I
had no staff officer who could be trusted with that duty. In the
woods, at a short distance below the clearing, I found a
depression, dry at the time, but which at high water became a
slough or bayou. I placed the men in the hollow, gave them their
instructions and ordered them to remain there until they were
properly relieved. These troops, with the gunboats, were to protect
our transports.

Up to this time the enemy had evidently failed to divine our
intentions. From Columbus they could, of course, see our gunboats
and transports loaded with troops. But the force from Paducah was
threatening them from the land side, and it was hardly to be
expected that if Columbus was our object we would separate our
troops by a wide river. They doubtless thought we meant to draw a
large force from the east bank, then embark ourselves, land on the
east bank and make a sudden assault on Columbus before their
divided command could be united.

About eight o’clock we started from the point of debarkation,
marching by the flank. After moving in this way for a mile or a
mile and a half, I halted where there was marshy ground covered
with a heavy growth of timber in our front, and deployed a large
part of my force as skirmishers. By this time the enemy discovered
that we were moving upon Belmont and sent out troops to meet us.
Soon after we had started in line, his skirmishers were encountered
and fighting commenced. This continued, growing fiercer and
fiercer, for about four hours, the enemy being forced back
gradually until he was driven into his camp. Early in this
engagement my horse was shot under me, but I got another from one
of my staff and kept well up with the advance until the river was
reached.

The officers and men engaged at Belmont were then under fire for
the first time. Veterans could not have behaved better than they
did up to the moment of reaching the rebel camp. At this point they
became demoralized from their victory and failed to reap its full
reward. The enemy had been followed so closely that when he reached
the clear ground on which his camp was pitched he beat a hasty
retreat over the river bank, which protected him from our shots and
from view. This precipitate retreat at the last moment enabled the
National forces to pick their way without hinderance through the
abatis—the only artificial defence the enemy had. The moment
the camp was reached our men laid down their arms and commenced
rummaging the tents to pick up trophies. Some of the higher
officers were little better than the privates. They galloped about
from one cluster of men to another and at every halt delivered a
short eulogy upon the Union cause and the achievements of the
command.

All this time the troops we had been engaged with for four
hours, lay crouched under cover of the river bank, ready to come up
and surrender if summoned to do so; but finding that they were not
pursued, they worked their way up the river and came up on the bank
between us and our transports. I saw at the same time two steamers
coming from the Columbus side towards the west shore, above us,
black—or gray—with soldiers from boiler-deck to roof.
Some of my men were engaged in firing from captured guns at empty
steamers down the river, out of range, cheering at every shot. I
tried to get them to turn their guns upon the loaded steamers above
and not so far away. My efforts were in vain. At last I directed my
staff officers to set fire to the camps. This drew the fire of the
enemy’s guns located on the heights of Columbus. They had abstained
from firing before, probably because they were afraid of hitting
their own men; or they may have supposed, until the camp was on
fire, that it was still in the possession of their friends. About
this time, too, the men we had driven over the bank were seen in
line up the river between us and our transports. The alarm
“surrounded” was given. The guns of the enemy and the report of
being surrounded, brought officers and men completely under
control. At first some of the officers seemed to think that to be
surrounded was to be placed in a hopeless position, where there was
nothing to do but surrender. But when I announced that we had cut
our way in and could cut our way out just as well, it seemed a new
revelation to officers and soldiers. They formed line rapidly and
we started back to our boats, with the men deployed as skirmishers
as they had been on entering camp. The enemy was soon encountered,
but his resistance this time was feeble. Again the Confederates
sought shelter under the river banks. We could not stop, however,
to pick them up, because the troops we had seen crossing the river
had debarked by this time and were nearer our transports than we
were. It would be prudent to get them behind us; but we were not
again molested on our way to the boats.

From the beginning of the fighting our wounded had been carried
to the houses at the rear, near the place of debarkation. I now set
the troops to bringing their wounded to the boats. After this had
gone on for some little time I rode down the road, without even a
staff officer, to visit the guard I had stationed over the approach
to our transports. I knew the enemy had crossed over from Columbus
in considerable numbers and might be expected to attack us as we
were embarking. This guard would be encountered first and, as they
were in a natural intrenchment, would be able to hold the enemy for
a considerable time. My surprise was great to find there was not a
single man in the trench. Riding back to the boat I found the
officer who had commanded the guard and learned that he had
withdrawn his force when the main body fell back. At first I
ordered the guard to return, but finding that it would take some
time to get the men together and march them back to their position,
I countermanded the order. Then fearing that the enemy we had seen
crossing the river below might be coming upon us unawares, I rode
out in the field to our front, still entirely alone, to observe
whether the enemy was passing. The field was grown up with corn so
tall and thick as to cut off the view of even a person on
horseback, except directly along the rows. Even in that direction,
owing to the overhanging blades of corn, the view was not
extensive. I had not gone more than a few hundred yards when I saw
a body of troops marching past me not fifty yards away. I looked at
them for a moment and then turned my horse towards the river and
started back, first in a walk, and when I thought myself concealed
from the view of the enemy, as fast as my horse could carry me.
When at the river bank I still had to ride a few hundred yards to
the point where the nearest transport lay.

The cornfield in front of our transports terminated at the edge
of a dense forest. Before I got back the enemy had entered this
forest and had opened a brisk fire upon the boats. Our men, with
the exception of details that had gone to the front after the
wounded, were now either aboard the transports or very near them.
Those who were not aboard soon got there, and the boats pushed off.
I was the only man of the National army between the rebels and our
transports. The captain of a boat that had just pushed out but had
not started, recognized me and ordered the engineer not to start
the engine; he then had a plank run out for me. My horse seemed to
take in the situation. There was no path down the bank and every
one acquainted with the Mississippi River knows that its banks, in
a natural state, do not vary at any great angle from the
perpendicular. My horse put his fore feet over the bank without
hesitation or urging, and with his hind feet well under him, slid
down the bank and trotted aboard the boat, twelve or fifteen feet
away, over a single gang plank. I dismounted and went at once to
the upper deck.

The Mississippi River was low on the 7th of November, 1861, so
that the banks were higher than the heads of men standing on the
upper decks of the steamers. The rebels were some distance back
from the river, so that their fire was high and did us but little
harm. Our smoke-stack was riddled with bullets, but there were only
three men wounded on the boats, two of whom were soldiers. When I
first went on deck I entered the captain’s room adjoining the
pilot-house, and threw myself on a sofa. I did not keep that
position a moment, but rose to go out on the deck to observe what
was going on. I had scarcely left when a musket ball entered the
room, struck the head of the sofa, passed through it and lodged in
the foot.

When the enemy opened fire on the transports our gunboats
returned it with vigor. They were well out in the stream and some
distance down, so that they had to give but very little elevation
to their guns to clear the banks of the river. Their position very
nearly enfiladed the line of the enemy while he was marching
through the cornfield. The execution was very great, as we could
see at the time and as I afterwards learned more positively. We
were very soon out of range and went peacefully on our way to
Cairo, every man feeling that Belmont was a great victory and that
he had contributed his share to it.

Our loss at Belmont was 485 in killed, wounded and missing.
About 125 of our wounded fell into the hands of the enemy. We
returned with 175 prisoners and two guns, and spiked four other
pieces. The loss of the enemy, as officially reported, was 642 men,
killed, wounded and missing. We had engaged about 2,500 men,
exclusive of the guard left with the transports. The enemy had
about 7,000; but this includes the troops brought over from
Columbus who were not engaged in the first defence of Belmont.

The two objects for which the battle of Belmont was fought were
fully accomplished. The enemy gave up all idea of detaching troops
from Columbus. His losses were very heavy for that period of the
war. Columbus was beset by people looking for their wounded or dead
kin, to take them home for medical treatment or burial. I learned
later, when I had moved further south, that Belmont had caused more
mourning than almost any other battle up to that time. The National
troops acquired a confidence in themselves at Belmont that did not
desert them through the war.

The day after the battle I met some officers from General Polk’s
command, arranged for permission to bury our dead at Belmont and
also commenced negotiations for the exchange of prisoners. When our
men went to bury their dead, before they were allowed to land they
were conducted below the point where the enemy had engaged our
transports. Some of the officers expressed a desire to see the
field; but the request was refused with the statement that we had
no dead there.

While on the truce-boat I mentioned to an officer, whom I had
known both at West Point and in the Mexican war, that I was in the
cornfield near their troops when they passed; that I had been on
horseback and had worn a soldier’s overcoat at the time. This
officer was on General Polk’s staff. He said both he and the
general had seen me and that Polk had said to his men, “There is a
Yankee; you may try your marksmanship on him if you wish,” but
nobody fired at me.

Belmont was severely criticised in the North as a wholly
unnecessary battle, barren of results, or the possibility of them
from the beginning. If it had not been fought, Colonel Oglesby
would probably have been captured or destroyed with his three
thousand men. Then I should have been culpable indeed.

CHAPTER XXI.

GENERAL HALLECK IN COMMAND—COMMANDING THE DISTRICT OF
CAIRO—MOVEMENT ON FORT HENRY—CAPTURE OF FORT
HENRY.

While at Cairo I had frequent opportunities of meeting the rebel
officers of the Columbus garrison. They seemed to be very fond of
coming up on steamers under flags of truce. On two or three
occasions I went down in like manner. When one of their boats was
seen coming up carrying a white flag, a gun would be fired from the
lower battery at Fort Holt, throwing a shot across the bow as a
signal to come no farther. I would then take a steamer and, with my
staff and occasionally a few other officers, go down to receive the
party. There were several officers among them whom I had known
before, both at West Point and in Mexico. Seeing these officers who
had been educated for the profession of arms, both at school and in
actual war, which is a far more efficient training, impressed me
with the great advantage the South possessed over the North at the
beginning of the rebellion. They had from thirty to forty per cent.
of the educated soldiers of the Nation. They had no standing army
and, consequently, these trained soldiers had to find employment
with the troops from their own States. In this way what there was
of military education and training was distributed throughout their
whole army. The whole loaf was leavened.

The North had a great number of educated and trained soldiers,
but the bulk of them were still in the army and were retained,
generally with their old commands and rank, until the war had
lasted many months. In the Army of the Potomac there was what was
known as the “regular brigade,” in which, from the commanding
officer down to the youngest second lieutenant, every one was
educated to his profession. So, too, with many of the batteries;
all the officers, generally four in number to each, were men
educated for their profession. Some of these went into battle at
the beginning under division commanders who were entirely without
military training. This state of affairs gave me an idea which I
expressed while at Cairo; that the government ought to disband the
regular army, with the exception of the staff corps, and notify the
disbanded officers that they would receive no compensation while
the war lasted except as volunteers. The register should be kept
up, but the names of all officers who were not in the volunteer
service at the close, should be stricken from it.

On the 9th of November, two days after the battle of Belmont,
Major-General H. W. Halleck superseded General Fremont in command
of the Department of the Missouri. The limits of his command took
in Arkansas and west Kentucky east to the Cumberland River. From
the battle of Belmont until early in February, 1862, the troops
under my command did little except prepare for the long struggle
which proved to be before them.

The enemy at this time occupied a line running from the
Mississippi River at Columbus to Bowling Green and Mill Springs,
Kentucky. Each of these positions was strongly fortified, as were
also points on the Tennessee and Cumberland rivers near the
Tennessee state line. The works on the Tennessee were called Fort
Heiman and Fort Henry, and that on the Cumberland was Fort
Donelson. At these points the two rivers approached within eleven
miles of each other. The lines of rifle pits at each place extended
back from the water at least two miles, so that the garrisons were
in reality only seven miles apart. These positions were of immense
importance to the enemy; and of course correspondingly important
for us to possess ourselves of. With Fort Henry in our hands we had
a navigable stream open to us up to Muscle Shoals, in Alabama. The
Memphis and Charleston Railroad strikes the Tennessee at Eastport,
Mississippi, and follows close to the banks of the river up to the
shoals. This road, of vast importance to the enemy, would cease to
be of use to them for through traffic the moment Fort Henry became
ours. Fort Donelson was the gate to Nashville—a place of
great military and political importance—and to a rich country
extending far east in Kentucky. These two points in our possession
the enemy would necessarily be thrown back to the Memphis and
Charleston road, or to the boundary of the cotton states, and, as
before stated, that road would be lost to them for through
communication.

The designation of my command had been changed after Halleck’s
arrival, from the District of South-east Missouri to the District
of Cairo, and the small district commanded by General C. F. Smith,
embracing the mouths of the Tennessee and Cumberland rivers, had
been added to my jurisdiction. Early in January, 1862, I was
directed by General McClellan, through my department commander, to
make a reconnoissance in favor of Brigadier-General Don Carlos
Buell, who commanded the Department of the Ohio, with headquarters
at Louisville, and who was confronting General S. B. Buckner with a
larger Confederate force at Bowling Green. It was supposed that
Buell was about to make some move against the enemy, and my
demonstration was intended to prevent the sending of troops from
Columbus, Fort Henry or Donelson to Buckner. I at once ordered
General Smith to send a force up the west bank of the Tennessee to
threaten forts Heiman and Henry; McClernand at the same time with a
force of 6,000 men was sent out into west Kentucky, threatening
Columbus with one column and the Tennessee River with another. I
went with McClernand’s command. The weather was very bad; snow and
rain fell; the roads, never good in that section, were intolerable.
We were out more than a week splashing through the mud, snow and
rain, the men suffering very much. The object of the expedition was
accomplished. The enemy did not send reinforcements to Bowling
Green, and General George H. Thomas fought and won the battle of
Mill Springs before we returned.

As a result of this expedition General Smith reported that he
thought it practicable to capture Fort Heiman. This fort stood on
high ground, completely commanding Fort Henry on the opposite side
of the river, and its possession by us, with the aid of our
gunboats, would insure the capture of Fort Henry. This report of
Smith’s confirmed views I had previously held, that the true line
of operations for us was up the Tennessee and Cumberland rivers.
With us there, the enemy would be compelled to fall back on the
east and west entirely out of the State of Kentucky. On the 6th of
January, before receiving orders for this expedition, I had asked
permission of the general commanding the department to go to see
him at St. Louis. My object was to lay this plan of campaign before
him. Now that my views had been confirmed by so able a general as
Smith, I renewed my request to go to St. Louis on what I deemed
important military business. The leave was granted, but not
graciously. I had known General Halleck but very slightly in the
old army, not having met him either at West Point or during the
Mexican war. I was received with so little cordiality that I
perhaps stated the object of my visit with less clearness than I
might have done, and I had not uttered many sentences before I was
cut short as if my plan was preposterous. I returned to Cairo very
much crestfallen.

Flag-officer Foote commanded the little fleet of gunboats then
in the neighborhood of Cairo and, though in another branch of the
service, was subject to the command of General Halleck. He and I
consulted freely upon military matters and he agreed with me
perfectly as to the feasibility of the campaign up the Tennessee.
Notwithstanding the rebuff I had received from my immediate chief,
I therefore, on the 28th of January, renewed the suggestion by
telegraph that “if permitted, I could take and hold Fort Henry on
the Tennessee.” This time I was backed by Flag-officer Foote, who
sent a similar dispatch. On the 29th I wrote fully in support of
the proposition. On the 1st of February I received full
instructions from department headquarters to move upon Fort Henry.
On the 2d the expedition started.

In February, 1862, there were quite a good many steamers laid up
at Cairo for want of employment, the Mississippi River being closed
against navigation below that point. There were also many men in
the town whose occupation had been following the river in various
capacities, from captain down to deck hand But there were not
enough of either boats or men to move at one time the 17,000 men I
proposed to take with me up the Tennessee. I loaded the boats with
more than half the force, however, and sent General McClernand in
command. I followed with one of the later boats and found
McClernand had stopped, very properly, nine miles below Fort Henry.
Seven gunboats under Flag-officer Foote had accompanied the
advance. The transports we had with us had to return to Paducah to
bring up a division from there, with General C. F. Smith in
command.

Before sending the boats back I wanted to get the troops as near
to the enemy as I could without coming within range of their guns.
There was a stream emptying into the Tennessee on the east side,
apparently at about long range distance below the fort. On account
of the narrow water-shed separating the Tennessee and Cumberland
rivers at that point, the stream must be insignificant at ordinary
stages, but when we were there, in February, it was a torrent. It
would facilitate the investment of Fort Henry materially if the
troops could be landed south of that stream. To test whether this
could be done I boarded the gunboat Essex and requested Captain Wm.
Porter commanding it, to approach the fort to draw its fire. After
we had gone some distance past the mouth of the stream we drew the
fire of the fort, which fell much short of us. In consequence I had
made up my mind to return and bring the troops to the upper side of
the creek, when the enemy opened upon us with a rifled gun that
sent shot far beyond us and beyond the stream. One shot passed very
near where Captain Porter and I were standing, struck the deck near
the stern, penetrated and passed through the cabin and so out into
the river. We immediately turned back, and the troops were debarked
below the mouth of the creek.

When the landing was completed I returned with the transports to
Paducah to hasten up the balance of the troops. I got back on the
5th with the advance, the remainder following as rapidly as the
steamers could carry them. At ten o’clock at night, on the 5th, the
whole command was not yet up. Being anxious to commence operations
as soon as possible before the enemy could reinforce heavily, I
issued my orders for an advance at 11 A.M. on the 6th. I felt sure
that all the troops would be up by that time.

Fort Henry occupies a bend in the river which gave the guns in
the water battery a direct fire down the stream. The camp outside
the fort was intrenched, with rifle pits and outworks two miles
back on the road to Donelson and Dover. The garrison of the fort
and camp was about 2,800, with strong reinforcements from Donelson
halted some miles out. There were seventeen heavy guns in the fort.
The river was very high, the banks being overflowed except where
the bluffs come to the water’s edge. A portion of the ground on
which Fort Henry stood was two feet deep in water. Below, the water
extended into the woods several hundred yards back from the bank on
the east side. On the west bank Fort Heiman stood on high ground,
completely commanding Fort Henry. The distance from Fort Henry to
Donelson is but eleven miles. The two positions were so important
to the enemy, AS HE SAW HIS INTEREST, that it was natural to
suppose that reinforcements would come from every quarter from
which they could be got. Prompt action on our part was
imperative.

The plan was for the troops and gunboats to start at the same
moment. The troops were to invest the garrison and the gunboats to
attack the fort at close quarters. General Smith was to land a
brigade of his division on the west bank during the night of the
5th and get it in rear of Heiman.

At the hour designated the troops and gunboats started. General
Smith found Fort Heiman had been evacuated before his men arrived.
The gunboats soon engaged the water batteries at very close
quarters, but the troops which were to invest Fort Henry were
delayed for want of roads, as well as by the dense forest and the
high water in what would in dry weather have been unimportant beds
of streams. This delay made no difference in the result. On our
first appearance Tilghman had sent his entire command, with the
exception of about one hundred men left to man the guns in the
fort, to the outworks on the road to Dover and Donelson, so as to
have them out of range of the guns of our navy; and before any
attack on the 6th he had ordered them to retreat on Donelson. He
stated in his subsequent report that the defence was intended
solely to give his troops time to make their escape.

Tilghman was captured with his staff and ninety men, as well as
the armament of the fort, the ammunition and whatever stores were
there. Our cavalry pursued the retreating column towards Donelson
and picked up two guns and a few stragglers; but the enemy had so
much the start, that the pursuing force did not get in sight of any
except the stragglers.

All the gunboats engaged were hit many times. The damage,
however, beyond what could be repaired by a small expenditure of
money, was slight, except to the Essex. A shell penetrated the
boiler of that vessel and exploded it, killing and wounding
forty-eight men, nineteen of whom were soldiers who had been
detailed to act with the navy. On several occasions during the war
such details were made when the complement of men with the navy was
insufficient for the duty before them. After the fall of Fort Henry
Captain Phelps, commanding the iron-clad Carondelet, at my request
ascended the Tennessee River and thoroughly destroyed the bridge of
the Memphis and Ohio Railroad.

CHAPTER XXII.

INVESTMENT OF FORT DONELSON—THE NAVAL
OPERATIONS—ATTACK OF THE ENEMY—ASSAULTING THE
WORKS—SURRENDER OF THE FORT.

I informed the department commander of our success at Fort Henry
and that on the 8th I would take Fort Donelson. But the rain
continued to fall so heavily that the roads became impassable for
artillery and wagon trains. Then, too, it would not have been
prudent to proceed without the gunboats. At least it would have
been leaving behind a valuable part of our available force.

On the 7th, the day after the fall of Fort Henry, I took my
staff and the cavalry—a part of one regiment—and made a
reconnoissance to within about a mile of the outer line of works at
Donelson. I had known General Pillow in Mexico, and judged that
with any force, no matter how small, I could march up to within
gunshot of any intrenchments he was given to hold. I said this to
the officers of my staff at the time. I knew that Floyd was in
command, but he was no soldier, and I judged that he would yield to
Pillow’s pretensions. I met, as I expected, no opposition in making
the reconnoissance and, besides learning the topography of the
country on the way and around Fort Donelson, found that there were
two roads available for marching; one leading to the village of
Dover, the other to Donelson.

Fort Donelson is two miles north, or down the river, from Dover.
The fort, as it stood in 1861, embraced about one hundred acres of
land. On the east it fronted the Cumberland; to the north it faced
Hickman’s creek, a small stream which at that time was deep and
wide because of the back-water from the river; on the south was
another small stream, or rather a ravine, opening into the
Cumberland. This also was filled with back-water from the river.
The fort stood on high ground, some of it as much as a hundred feet
above the Cumberland. Strong protection to the heavy guns in the
water batteries had been obtained by cutting away places for them
in the bluff. To the west there was a line of rifle pits some two
miles back from the river at the farthest point. This line ran
generally along the crest of high ground, but in one place crossed
a ravine which opens into the river between the village and the
fort. The ground inside and outside of this intrenched line was
very broken and generally wooded. The trees outside of the
rifle-pits had been cut down for a considerable way out, and had
been felled so that their tops lay outwards from the intrenchments.
The limbs had been trimmed and pointed, and thus formed an abatis
in front of the greater part of the line. Outside of this
intrenched line, and extending about half the entire length of it,
is a ravine running north and south and opening into Hickman creek
at a point north of the fort. The entire side of this ravine next
to the works was one long abatis.

General Halleck commenced his efforts in all quarters to get
reinforcements to forward to me immediately on my departure from
Cairo. General Hunter sent men freely from Kansas, and a large
division under General Nelson, from Buell’s army, was also
dispatched. Orders went out from the War Department to consolidate
fragments of companies that were being recruited in the Western
States so as to make full companies, and to consolidate companies
into regiments. General Halleck did not approve or disapprove of my
going to Fort Donelson. He said nothing whatever to me on the
subject. He informed Buell on the 7th that I would march against
Fort Donelson the next day; but on the 10th he directed me to
fortify Fort Henry strongly, particularly to the land side, saying
that he forwarded me intrenching tools for that purpose. I received
this dispatch in front of Fort Donelson.

I was very impatient to get to Fort Donelson because I knew the
importance of the place to the enemy and supposed he would
reinforce it rapidly. I felt that 15,000 men on the 8th would be
more effective than 50,000 a month later. I asked Flag-officer
Foote, therefore, to order his gunboats still about Cairo to
proceed up the Cumberland River and not to wait for those gone to
Eastport and Florence; but the others got back in time and we
started on the 12th. I had moved McClernand out a few miles the
night before so as to leave the road as free as possible.

Just as we were about to start the first reinforcement reached
me on transports. It was a brigade composed of six full regiments
commanded by Colonel Thayer, of Nebraska. As the gunboats were
going around to Donelson by the Tennessee, Ohio and Cumberland
rivers, I directed Thayer to turn about and go under their
convoy.

I started from Fort Henry with 15,000 men, including eight
batteries and part of a regiment of cavalry, and, meeting with no
obstruction to detain us, the advance arrived in front of the enemy
by noon. That afternoon and the next day were spent in taking up
ground to make the investment as complete as possible. General
Smith had been directed to leave a portion of his division behind
to guard forts Henry and Heiman. He left General Lew. Wallace with
2,500 men. With the remainder of his division he occupied our left,
extending to Hickman creek. McClernand was on the right and covered
the roads running south and south-west from Dover. His right
extended to the back-water up the ravine opening into the
Cumberland south of the village. The troops were not intrenched,
but the nature of the ground was such that they were just as well
protected from the fire of the enemy as if rifle-pits had been
thrown up. Our line was generally along the crest of ridges. The
artillery was protected by being sunk in the ground. The men who
were not serving the guns were perfectly covered from fire on
taking position a little back from the crest. The greatest
suffering was from want of shelter. It was midwinter and during the
siege we had rain and snow, thawing and freezing alternately. It
would not do to allow camp-fires except far down the hill out of
sight of the enemy, and it would not do to allow many of the troops
to remain there at the same time. In the march over from Fort Henry
numbers of the men had thrown away their blankets and overcoats.
There was therefore much discomfort and absolute suffering.

During the 12th and 13th, and until the arrival of Wallace and
Thayer on the 14th, the National forces, composed of but 15,000
men, without intrenchments, confronted an intrenched army of
21,000, without conflict further than what was brought on by
ourselves. Only one gunboat had arrived. There was a little
skirmishing each day, brought on by the movement of our troops in
securing commanding positions; but there was no actual fighting
during this time except once, on the 13th, in front of McClernand’s
command. That general had undertaken to capture a battery of the
enemy which was annoying his men. Without orders or authority he
sent three regiments to make the assault. The battery was in the
main line of the enemy, which was defended by his whole army
present. Of course the assault was a failure, and of course the
loss on our side was great for the number of men engaged. In this
assault Colonel William Morrison fell badly wounded. Up to this
time the surgeons with the army had no difficulty in finding room
in the houses near our line for all the sick and wounded; but now
hospitals were overcrowded. Owing, however, to the energy and skill
of the surgeons the suffering was not so great as it might have
been. The hospital arrangements at Fort Donelson were as complete
as it was possible to make them, considering the inclemency of the
weather and the lack of tents, in a sparsely settled country where
the houses were generally of but one or two rooms.

On the return of Captain Walke to Fort Henry on the 10th, I had
requested him to take the vessels that had accompanied him on his
expedition up the Tennessee, and get possession of the Cumberland
as far up towards Donelson as possible. He started without delay,
taking, however, only his own gunboat, the Carondelet, towed by the
steamer Alps. Captain Walke arrived a few miles below Donelson on
the 12th, a little after noon. About the time the advance of troops
reached a point within gunshot of the fort on the land side, he
engaged the water batteries at long range. On the 13th I informed
him of my arrival the day before and of the establishment of most
of our batteries, requesting him at the same time to attack again
that day so that I might take advantage of any diversion. The
attack was made and many shots fell within the fort, creating some
consternation, as we now know. The investment on the land side was
made as complete as the number of troops engaged would admit
of.

During the night of the 13th Flag-officer Foote arrived with the
iron-clads St. Louis, Louisville and Pittsburg and the wooden
gunboats Tyler and Conestoga, convoying Thayer’s brigade. On the
morning of the 14th Thayer was landed. Wallace, whom I had ordered
over from Fort Henry, also arrived about the same time. Up to this
time he had been commanding a brigade belonging to the division of
General C. F. Smith. These troops were now restored to the division
they belonged to, and General Lew. Wallace was assigned to the
command of a division composed of the brigade of Colonel Thayer and
other reinforcements that arrived the same day. This new division
was assigned to the centre, giving the two flanking divisions an
opportunity to close up and form a stronger line.

The plan was for the troops to hold the enemy within his lines,
while the gunboats should attack the water batteries at close
quarters and silence his guns if possible. Some of the gunboats
were to run the batteries, get above the fort and above the village
of Dover. I had ordered a reconnoissance made with the view of
getting troops to the river above Dover in case they should be
needed there. That position attained by the gunboats it would have
been but a question of time—and a very short time,
too—when the garrison would have been compelled to
surrender.

By three in the afternoon of the 14th Flag-officer Foote was
ready, and advanced upon the water batteries with his entire fleet.
After coming in range of the batteries of the enemy the advance was
slow, but a constant fire was delivered from every gun that could
be brought to bear upon the fort. I occupied a position on shore
from which I could see the advancing navy. The leading boat got
within a very short distance of the water battery, not further off
I think than two hundred yards, and I soon saw one and then another
of them dropping down the river, visibly disabled. Then the whole
fleet followed and the engagement closed for the day. The gunboat
which Flag-officer Foote was on, besides having been hit about
sixty times, several of the shots passing through near the
waterline, had a shot enter the pilot-house which killed the pilot,
carried away the wheel and wounded the flag-officer himself. The
tiller-ropes of another vessel were carried away and she, too,
dropped helplessly back. Two others had their pilot-houses so
injured that they scarcely formed a protection to the men at the
wheel.

The enemy had evidently been much demoralized by the assault,
but they were jubilant when they saw the disabled vessels dropping
down the river entirely out of the control of the men on board. Of
course I only witnessed the falling back of our gunboats and felt
sad enough at the time over the repulse. Subsequent reports, now
published, show that the enemy telegraphed a great victory to
Richmond. The sun went down on the night of the 14th of February,
1862, leaving the army confronting Fort Donelson anything but
comforted over the prospects. The weather had turned intensely
cold; the men were without tents and could not keep up fires where
most of them had to stay, and, as previously stated, many had
thrown away their overcoats and blankets. Two of the strongest of
our gunboats had been disabled, presumably beyond the possibility
of rendering any present assistance. I retired this night not
knowing but that I would have to intrench my position, and bring up
tents for the men or build huts under the cover of the hills.

On the morning of the 15th, before it was yet broad day, a
messenger from Flag-officer Foote handed me a note, expressing a
desire to see me on the flag-ship and saying that he had been
injured the day before so much that he could not come himself to
me. I at once made my preparations for starting. I directed my
adjutant-general to notify each of the division commanders of my
absence and instruct them to do nothing to bring on an engagement
until they received further orders, but to hold their positions.
From the heavy rains that had fallen for days and weeks preceding
and from the constant use of the roads between the troops and the
landing four to seven miles below, these roads had become cut up so
as to be hardly passable. The intense cold of the night of the
14th-15th had frozen the ground solid. This made travel on
horseback even slower than through the mud; but I went as fast as
the roads would allow.

When I reached the fleet I found the flag-ship was anchored out
in the stream. A small boat, however, awaited my arrival and I was
soon on board with the flag-officer. He explained to me in short
the condition in which he was left by the engagement of the evening
before, and suggested that I should intrench while he returned to
Mound City with his disabled boats, expressing at the time the
belief that he could have the necessary repairs made and be back in
ten days. I saw the absolute necessity of his gunboats going into
hospital and did not know but I should be forced to the alternative
of going through a siege. But the enemy relieved me from this
necessity.

When I left the National line to visit Flag-officer Foote I had
no idea that there would be any engagement on land unless I brought
it on myself. The conditions for battle were much more favorable to
us than they had been for the first two days of the investment.
From the 12th to the 14th we had but 15,000 men of all arms and no
gunboats. Now we had been reinforced by a fleet of six naval
vessels, a large division of troops under General L. Wallace and
2,500 men brought over from Fort Henry belonging to the division of
C. F. Smith. The enemy, however, had taken the initiative. Just as
I landed I met Captain Hillyer of my staff, white with fear, not
for his personal safety, but for the safety of the National troops.
He said the enemy had come out of his lines in full force and
attacked and scattered McClernand’s division, which was in full
retreat. The roads, as I have said, were unfit for making fast
time, but I got to my command as soon as possible. The attack had
been made on the National right. I was some four or five miles
north of our left. The line was about three miles long. In reaching
the point where the disaster had occurred I had to pass the
divisions of Smith and Wallace. I saw no sign of excitement on the
portion of the line held by Smith; Wallace was nearer the scene of
conflict and had taken part in it. He had, at an opportune time,
sent Thayer’s brigade to the support of McClernand and thereby
contributed to hold the enemy within his lines.

I saw everything favorable for us along the line of our left and
centre. When I came to the right appearances were different. The
enemy had come out in full force to cut his way out and make his
escape. McClernand’s division had to bear the brunt of the attack
from this combined force. His men had stood up gallantly until the
ammunition in their cartridge-boxes gave out. There was abundance
of ammunition near by lying on the ground in boxes, but at that
stage of the war it was not all of our commanders of regiments,
brigades, or even divisions, who had been educated up to the point
of seeing that their men were constantly supplied with ammunition
during an engagement. When the men found themselves without
ammunition they could not stand up against troops who seemed to
have plenty of it. The division broke and a portion fled, but most
of the men, as they were not pursued, only fell back out of range
of the fire of the enemy. It must have been about this time that
Thayer pushed his brigade in between the enemy and those of our
troops that were without ammunition. At all events the enemy fell
back within his intrenchments and was there when I got on the
field.

I saw the men standing in knots talking in the most excited
manner. No officer seemed to be giving any directions. The soldiers
had their muskets, but no ammunition, while there were tons of it
close at hand. I heard some of the men say that the enemy had come
out with knapsacks, and haversacks filled with rations. They seemed
to think this indicated a determination on his part to stay out and
fight just as long as the provisions held out. I turned to Colonel
J. D. Webster, of my staff, who was with me, and said: “Some of our
men are pretty badly demoralized, but the enemy must be more so,
for he has attempted to force his way out, but has fallen back: the
one who attacks first now will be victorious and the enemy will
have to be in a hurry if he gets ahead of me.” I determined to make
the assault at once on our left. It was clear to my mind that the
enemy had started to march out with his entire force, except a few
pickets, and if our attack could be made on the left before the
enemy could redistribute his forces along the line, we would find
but little opposition except from the intervening abatis. I
directed Colonel Webster to ride with me and call out to the men as
we passed: “Fill your cartridge-boxes, quick, and get into line;
the enemy is trying to escape and he must not be permitted to do
so.” This acted like a charm. The men only wanted some one to give
them a command. We rode rapidly to Smith’s quarters, when I
explained the situation to him and directed him to charge the
enemy’s works in his front with his whole division, saying at the
same time that he would find nothing but a very thin line to
contend with. The general was off in an incredibly short time,
going in advance himself to keep his men from firing while they
were working their way through the abatis intervening between them
and the enemy. The outer line of rifle-pits was passed, and the
night of the 15th General Smith, with much of his division,
bivouacked within the lines of the enemy. There was now no doubt
but that the Confederates must surrender or be captured the next
day.

There seems from subsequent accounts to have been much
consternation, particularly among the officers of high rank, in
Dover during the night of the 15th. General Floyd, the commanding
officer, who was a man of talent enough for any civil position, was
no soldier and, possibly, did not possess the elements of one. He
was further unfitted for command, for the reason that his
conscience must have troubled him and made him afraid. As Secretary
of War he had taken a solemn oath to maintain the Constitution of
the United States and to uphold the same against all its enemies.
He had betrayed that trust. As Secretary of War he was reported
through the northern press to have scattered the little army the
country had so that the most of it could be picked up in detail
when secession occurred. About a year before leaving the Cabinet he
had removed arms from northern to southern arsenals. He continued
in the Cabinet of President Buchanan until about the 1st of
January, 1861, while he was working vigilantly for the
establishment of a confederacy made out of United States territory.
Well may he have been afraid to fall into the hands of National
troops. He would no doubt have been tried for misappropriating
public property, if not for treason, had he been captured. General
Pillow, next in command, was conceited, and prided himself much on
his services in the Mexican war. He telegraphed to General
Johnston, at Nashville, after our men were within the rebel
rifle-pits, and almost on the eve of his making his escape, that
the Southern troops had had great success all day. Johnston
forwarded the dispatch to Richmond. While the authorities at the
capital were reading it Floyd and Pillow were fugitives.

A council of war was held by the enemy at which all agreed that
it would be impossible to hold out longer. General Buckner, who was
third in rank in the garrison but much the most capable soldier,
seems to have regarded it a duty to hold the fort until the general
commanding the department, A. S. Johnston, should get back to his
headquarters at Nashville. Buckner’s report shows, however, that he
considered Donelson lost and that any attempt to hold the place
longer would be at the sacrifice of the command. Being assured that
Johnston was already in Nashville, Buckner too agreed that
surrender was the proper thing. Floyd turned over the command to
Pillow, who declined it. It then devolved upon Buckner, who
accepted the responsibility of the position. Floyd and Pillow took
possession of all the river transports at Dover and before morning
both were on their way to Nashville, with the brigade formerly
commanded by Floyd and some other troops, in all about 3,000. Some
marched up the east bank of the Cumberland; others went on the
steamers. During the night Forrest also, with his cavalry and some
other troops about a thousand in all, made their way out, passing
between our right and the river. They had to ford or swim over the
back-water in the little creek just south of Dover.

Before daylight General Smith brought to me the following letter
from General Buckner:

HEADQUARTERS, FORT DONELSON,
February 16, 1862.

SIR:—In consideration of all the circumstances governing
the present situation of affairs at this station, I propose to the
Commanding Officer of the Federal forces the appointment of
Commissioners to agree upon terms of capitulation of the forces and
fort under my command, and in that view suggest an armistice until
12 o’clock to-day.

I am, sir, very respectfully,
Your ob’t se’v’t,
S. B. BUCKNER,
Brig. Gen. C. S. A.

To Brigadier-General U. S. Grant,
Com’ding U. S. Forces,
Near Fort Donelson.

To this I responded as follows:

HEADQUARTERS ARMY IN THE FIELD,
Camp near Donelson,
February 16, 1862.

General S. B. BUCKNER,
Confederate Army.

SIR:—Yours of this date, proposing armistice and
appointment of Commissioners to settle terms of capitulation, is
just received. No terms except an unconditional and immediate
surrender can be accepted. I propose to move immediately upon your
works.

I am, sir, very respectfully,
Your ob’t se’v’t,
U. S. GRANT,
Brig. Gen.

To this I received the following reply:

HEADQUARTERS, DOVER, TENNESSEE,
February 16, 1862.

To Brig. Gen’I U. S. GRANT,
U. S. Army.

SIR:—The distribution of the forces under my command,
incident to an unexpected change of commanders, and the
overwhelming force under your command, compel me, notwithstanding
the brilliant success of the Confederate arms yesterday, to accept
the ungenerous and unchivalrous terms which you propose.

I am, sir,
Your very ob’t se’v’t,
S. B. BUCKNER,
Brig. Gen. C. S. A.

General Buckner, as soon as he had dispatched the first of the
above letters, sent word to his different commanders on the line of
rifle-pits, notifying them that he had made a proposition looking
to the surrender of the garrison, and directing them to notify
National troops in their front so that all fighting might be
prevented. White flags were stuck at intervals along the line of
rifle-pits, but none over the fort. As soon as the last letter from
Buckner was received I mounted my horse and rode to Dover. General
Wallace, I found, had preceded me an hour or more. I presume that,
seeing white flags exposed in his front, he rode up to see what
they meant and, not being fired upon or halted, he kept on until he
found himself at the headquarters of General Buckner.

I had been at West Point three years with Buckner and afterwards
served with him in the army, so that we were quite well acquainted.
In the course of our conversation, which was very friendly, he said
to me that if he had been in command I would not have got up to
Donelson as easily as I did. I told him that if he had been in
command I should not have tried in the way I did: I had invested
their lines with a smaller force than they had to defend them, and
at the same time had sent a brigade full 5,000 strong, around by
water; I had relied very much upon their commander to allow me to
come safely up to the outside of their works. I asked General
Buckner about what force he had to surrender. He replied that he
could not tell with any degree of accuracy; that all the sick and
weak had been sent to Nashville while we were about Fort Henry;
that Floyd and Pillow had left during the night, taking many men
with them; and that Forrest, and probably others, had also escaped
during the preceding night: the number of casualties he could not
tell; but he said I would not find fewer than 12,000, nor more than
15,000.

He asked permission to send parties outside of the lines to bury
his dead, who had fallen on the 15th when they tried to get out. I
gave directions that his permit to pass our limits should be
recognized. I have no reason to believe that this privilege was
abused, but it familiarized our guards so much with the sight of
Confederates passing to and fro that I have no doubt many got
beyond our pickets unobserved and went on. The most of the men who
went in that way no doubt thought they had had war enough, and left
with the intention of remaining out of the army. Some came to me
and asked permission to go, saying that they were tired of the war
and would not be caught in the ranks again, and I bade them go.

The actual number of Confederates at Fort Donelson can never be
given with entire accuracy. The largest number admitted by any
writer on the Southern side, is by Colonel Preston Johnston. He
gives the number at 17,000. But this must be an underestimate. The
commissary general of prisoners reported having issued rations to
14,623 Fort Donelson prisoners at Cairo, as they passed that point.
General Pillow reported the killed and wounded at 2,000; but he had
less opportunity of knowing the actual numbers than the officers of
McClernand’s division, for most of the killed and wounded fell
outside their works, in front of that division, and were buried or
cared for by Buckner after the surrender and when Pillow was a
fugitive. It is known that Floyd and Pillow escaped during the
night of the 15th, taking with them not less than 3,000 men.
Forrest escaped with about 1,000 and others were leaving singly and
in squads all night. It is probable that the Confederate force at
Donelson, on the 15th of February, 1862, was 21,000 in round
numbers.

On the day Fort Donelson fell I had 27,000 men to confront the
Confederate lines and guard the road four or five miles to the
left, over which all our supplies had to be drawn on wagons. During
the 16th, after the surrender, additional reinforcements
arrived.

During the siege General Sherman had been sent to Smithland, at
the mouth of the Cumberland River, to forward reinforcements and
supplies to me. At that time he was my senior in rank and there was
no authority of law to assign a junior to command a senior of the
same grade. But every boat that came up with supplies or
reinforcements brought a note of encouragement from Sherman, asking
me to call upon him for any assistance he could render and saying
that if he could be of service at the front I might send for him
and he would waive rank.

CHAPTER XXIII.

PROMOTED MAJOR-GENERAL OF VOLUNTEERS—UNOCCUPIED
TERRITORY—ADVANCE UPON NASHVILLE—SITUATION OF THE
TROOPS—CONFEDERATE RETREAT—RELIEVED OF THE
COMMAND—RESTORED TO THE COMMAND—GENERAL SMITH.

The news of the fall of Fort Donelson caused great delight all
over the North. At the South, particularly in Richmond, the effect
was correspondingly depressing. I was promptly promoted to the
grade of Major-General of Volunteers, and confirmed by the Senate.
All three of my division commanders were promoted to the same grade
and the colonels who commanded brigades were made
brigadier-generals in the volunteer service. My chief, who was in
St. Louis, telegraphed his congratulations to General Hunter in
Kansas for the services he had rendered in securing the fall of
Fort Donelson by sending reinforcements so rapidly. To Washington
he telegraphed that the victory was due to General C. F. Smith;
“promote him,” he said, “and the whole country will applaud.” On
the 19th there was published at St. Louis a formal order thanking
Flag-officer Foote and myself, and the forces under our command,
for the victories on the Tennessee and the Cumberland. I received
no other recognition whatever from General Halleck. But General
Cullum, his chief of staff, who was at Cairo, wrote me a warm
congratulatory letter on his own behalf. I approved of General
Smith’s promotion highly, as I did all the promotions that were
made.

My opinion was and still is that immediately after the fall of
Fort Donelson the way was opened to the National forces all over
the South-west without much resistance. If one general who would
have taken the responsibility had been in command of all the troops
west of the Alleghanies, he could have marched to Chattanooga,
Corinth, Memphis and Vicksburg with the troops we then had, and as
volunteering was going on rapidly over the North there would soon
have been force enough at all these centres to operate offensively
against any body of the enemy that might be found near them. Rapid
movements and the acquisition of rebellious territory would have
promoted volunteering, so that reinforcements could have been had
as fast as transportation could have been obtained to carry them to
their destination. On the other hand there were tens of thousands
of strong able-bodied young men still at their homes in the
South-western States, who had not gone into the Confederate army in
February, 1862, and who had no particular desire to go. If our
lines had been extended to protect their homes, many of them never
would have gone. Providence ruled differently. Time was given the
enemy to collect armies and fortify his new positions; and twice
afterwards he came near forcing his north-western front up to the
Ohio River.

I promptly informed the department commander of our success at
Fort Donelson and that the way was open now to Clarksville and
Nashville; and that unless I received orders to the contrary I
should take Clarksville on the 21st and Nashville about the 1st of
March. Both these places are on the Cumberland River above Fort
Donelson. As I heard nothing from headquarters on the subject,
General C. F. Smith was sent to Clarksville at the time designated
and found the place evacuated. The capture of forts Henry and
Donelson had broken the line the enemy had taken from Columbus to
Bowling Green, and it was known that he was falling back from the
eastern point of this line and that Buell was following, or at
least advancing. I should have sent troops to Nashville at the time
I sent to Clarksville, but my transportation was limited and there
were many prisoners to be forwarded north.

None of the reinforcements from Buell’s army arrived until the
24th of February. Then General Nelson came up, with orders to
report to me with two brigades, he having sent one brigade to
Cairo. I knew General Buell was advancing on Nashville from the
north, and I was advised by scouts that the rebels were leaving
that place, and trying to get out all the supplies they could.
Nashville was, at that time, one of the best provisioned posts in
the South. I had no use for reinforcements now, and thinking Buell
would like to have his troops again, I ordered Nelson to proceed to
Nashville without debarking at Fort Donelson. I sent a gunboat also
as a convoy. The Cumberland River was very high at the time; the
railroad bridge at Nashville had been burned, and all river craft
had been destroyed, or would be before the enemy left. Nashville is
on the west bank of the Cumberland, and Buell was approaching from
the east. I thought the steamers carrying Nelson’s division would
be useful in ferrying the balance of Buell’s forces across. I
ordered Nelson to put himself in communication with Buell as soon
as possible, and if he found him more than two days off from
Nashville to return below the city and await orders. Buell,
however, had already arrived in person at Edgefield, opposite
Nashville, and Mitchell’s division of his command reached there the
same day. Nelson immediately took possession of the city.

After Nelson had gone and before I had learned of Buell’s
arrival, I sent word to department headquarters that I should go to
Nashville myself on the 28th if I received no orders to the
contrary. Hearing nothing, I went as I had informed my superior
officer I would do. On arriving at Clarksville I saw a fleet of
steamers at the shore—the same that had taken Nelson’s
division—and troops going aboard. I landed and called on the
commanding officer, General C. F. Smith. As soon as he saw me he
showed an order he had just received from Buell in these words:

NASHVILLE, February 25, 1862.

GENERAL C. F. SMITH,
Commanding U. S. Forces, Clarksville.

GENERAL:—The landing of a portion of our troops, contrary
to my intentions, on the south side of the river has compelled me
to hold this side at every hazard. If the enemy should assume the
offensive, and I am assured by reliable persons that in view of my
position such is his intention, my force present is altogether
inadequate, consisting of only 15,000 men. I have to request you,
therefore, to come forward with all the available force under your
command. So important do I consider the occasion that I think it
necessary to give this communication all the force of orders, and I
send four boats, the Diana, Woodford, John Rain, and Autocrat, to
bring you up. In five or six days my force will probably be
sufficient to relieve you.

Very respectfully, your ob’t srv’t,
D. C. BUELL,
Brigadier-General Comd’g.

P. S.—The steamers will leave here at 12 o’clock
to-night.

General Smith said this order was nonsense. But I told him it
was better to obey it. The General replied, “of course I must
obey,” and said his men were embarking as fast as they could. I
went on up to Nashville and inspected the position taken by
Nelson’s troops. I did not see Buell during the day, and wrote him
a note saying that I had been in Nashville since early morning and
had hoped to meet him. On my return to the boat we met. His troops
were still east of the river, and the steamers that had carried
Nelson’s division up were mostly at Clarksville to bring Smith’s
division. I said to General Buell my information was that the enemy
was retreating as fast as possible. General Buell said there was
fighting going on then only ten or twelve miles away. I said:
“Quite probably; Nashville contained valuable stores of arms,
ammunition and provisions, and the enemy is probably trying to
carry away all he can. The fighting is doubtless with the
rear-guard who are trying to protect the trains they are getting
away with.” Buell spoke very positively of the danger Nashville was
in of an attack from the enemy. I said, in the absence of positive
information, I believed my information was correct. He responded
that he “knew.” “Well,” I said, “I do not know; but as I came by
Clarksville General Smith’s troops were embarking to join you.”

Smith’s troops were returned the same day. The enemy were trying
to get away from Nashville and not to return to it.

At this time General Albert Sidney Johnston commanded all the
Confederate troops west of the Alleghany Mountains, with the
exception of those in the extreme south. On the National side the
forces confronting him were divided into, at first three, then four
separate departments. Johnston had greatly the advantage in having
supreme command over all troops that could possibly be brought to
bear upon one point, while the forces similarly situated on the
National side, divided into independent commands, could not be
brought into harmonious action except by orders from
Washington.

At the beginning of 1862 Johnston’s troops east of the
Mississippi occupied a line extending from Columbus, on his left,
to Mill Springs, on his right. As we have seen, Columbus, both
banks of the Tennessee River, the west bank of the Cumberland and
Bowling Green, all were strongly fortified. Mill Springs was
intrenched. The National troops occupied no territory south of the
Ohio, except three small garrisons along its bank and a force
thrown out from Louisville to confront that at Bowling Green.
Johnston’s strength was no doubt numerically inferior to that of
the National troops; but this was compensated for by the advantage
of being sole commander of all the Confederate forces at the West,
and of operating in a country where his friends would take care of
his rear without any detail of soldiers. But when General George H.
Thomas moved upon the enemy at Mill Springs and totally routed him,
inflicting a loss of some 300 killed and wounded, and forts Henry
and Heiman fell into the hands of the National forces, with their
armaments and about 100 prisoners, those losses seemed to
dishearten the Confederate commander so much that he immediately
commenced a retreat from Bowling Green on Nashville. He reached
this latter place on the 14th of February, while Donelson was still
besieged. Buell followed with a portion of the Army of the Ohio,
but he had to march and did not reach the east bank of the
Cumberland opposite Nashville until the 24th of the month, and then
with only one division of his army.

The bridge at Nashville had been destroyed and all boats removed
or disabled, so that a small garrison could have held the place
against any National troops that could have been brought against it
within ten days after the arrival of the force from Bowling Green.
Johnston seemed to lie quietly at Nashville to await the result at
Fort Donelson, on which he had staked the possession of most of the
territory embraced in the States of Kentucky and Tennessee. It is
true, the two generals senior in rank at Fort Donelson were sending
him encouraging dispatches, even claiming great Confederate
victories up to the night of the 16th when they must have been
preparing for their individual escape. Johnston made a fatal
mistake in intrusting so important a command to Floyd, who he must
have known was no soldier even if he possessed the elements of one.
Pillow’s presence as second was also a mistake. If these officers
had been forced upon him and designated for that particular
command, then he should have left Nashville with a small garrison
under a trusty officer, and with the remainder of his force gone to
Donelson himself. If he had been captured the result could not have
been worse than it was.

Johnston’s heart failed him upon the first advance of National
troops. He wrote to Richmond on the 8th of February, “I think the
gunboats of the enemy will probably take Fort Donelson without the
necessity of employing their land force in cooperation.” After the
fall of that place he abandoned Nashville and Chattanooga without
an effort to save either, and fell back into northern Mississippi,
where, six weeks later, he was destined to end his career.

From the time of leaving Cairo I was singularly unfortunate in
not receiving dispatches from General Halleck. The order of the
10th of February directing me to fortify Fort Henry strongly,
particularly to the land side, and saying that intrenching tools
had been sent for that purpose, reached me after Donelson was
invested. I received nothing direct which indicated that the
department commander knew we were in possession of Donelson. I was
reporting regularly to the chief of staff, who had been sent to
Cairo, soon after the troops left there, to receive all reports
from the front and to telegraph the substance to the St. Louis
headquarters. Cairo was at the southern end of the telegraph wire.
Another line was started at once from Cairo to Paducah and
Smithland, at the mouths of the Tennessee and Cumberland
respectively. My dispatches were all sent to Cairo by boat, but
many of those addressed to me were sent to the operator at the end
of the advancing wire and he failed to forward them. This operator
afterwards proved to be a rebel; he deserted his post after a short
time and went south taking his dispatches with him. A telegram from
General McClellan to me of February 16th, the day of the surrender,
directing me to report in full the situation, was not received at
my headquarters until the 3d of March.

On the 2d of March I received orders dated March 1st to move my
command back to Fort Henry, leaving only a small garrison at
Donelson. From Fort Henry expeditions were to be sent against
Eastport, Mississippi, and Paris, Tennessee. We started from
Donelson on the 4th, and the same day I was back on the Tennessee
River. On March 4th I also received the following dispatch from
General Halleck:

MAJ.-GEN. U. S. GRANT,
Fort Henry:

You will place Maj.-Gen. C. F. Smith in command of expedition,
and remain yourself at Fort Henry. Why do you not obey my orders to
report strength and positions of your command?

H. W. HALLECK,
Major-General.

I was surprised. This was the first intimation I had received
that General Halleck had called for information as to the strength
of my command. On the 6th he wrote to me again. “Your going to
Nashville without authority, and when your presence with your
troops was of the utmost importance, was a matter of very serious
complaint at Washington, so much so that I was advised to arrest
you on your return.” This was the first I knew of his objecting to
my going to Nashville. That place was not beyond the limits of my
command, which, it had been expressly declared in orders, were “not
defined.” Nashville is west of the Cumberland River, and I had sent
troops that had reported to me for duty to occupy the place. I
turned over the command as directed and then replied to General
Halleck courteously, but asked to be relieved from further duty
under him.

Later I learned that General Halleck had been calling lustily
for more troops, promising that he would do something important if
he could only be sufficiently reinforced. McClellan asked him what
force he then had. Halleck telegraphed me to supply the information
so far as my command was concerned, but I received none of his
dispatches. At last Halleck reported to Washington that he had
repeatedly ordered me to give the strength of my force, but could
get nothing out of me; that I had gone to Nashville, beyond the
limits of my command, without his authority, and that my army was
more demoralized by victory than the army at Bull Run had been by
defeat. General McClellan, on this information, ordered that I
should be relieved from duty and that an investigation should be
made into any charges against me. He even authorized my arrest.
Thus in less than two weeks after the victory at Donelson, the two
leading generals in the army were in correspondence as to what
disposition should be made of me, and in less than three weeks I
was virtually in arrest and without a command.

On the 13th of March I was restored to command, and on the 17th
Halleck sent me a copy of an order from the War Department which
stated that accounts of my misbehavior had reached Washington and
directed him to investigate and report the facts. He forwarded also
a copy of a detailed dispatch from himself to Washington entirely
exonerating me; but he did not inform me that it was his own
reports that had created all the trouble. On the contrary, he wrote
to me, “Instead of relieving you, I wish you, as soon as your new
army is in the field, to assume immediate command, and lead it to
new victories.” In consequence I felt very grateful to him, and
supposed it was his interposition that had set me right with the
government. I never knew the truth until General Badeau unearthed
the facts in his researches for his history of my campaigns.

General Halleck unquestionably deemed General C. F. Smith a much
fitter officer for the command of all the forces in the military
district than I was, and, to render him available for such command,
desired his promotion to antedate mine and those of the other
division commanders. It is probable that the general opinion was
that Smith’s long services in the army and distinguished deeds
rendered him the more proper person for such command. Indeed I was
rather inclined to this opinion myself at that time, and would have
served as faithfully under Smith as he had done under me. But this
did not justify the dispatches which General Halleck sent to
Washington, or his subsequent concealment of them from me when
pretending to explain the action of my superiors.

On receipt of the order restoring me to command I proceeded to
Savannah on the Tennessee, to which point my troops had advanced.
General Smith was delighted to see me and was unhesitating in his
denunciation of the treatment I had received. He was on a sick bed
at the time, from which he never came away alive. His death was a
severe loss to our western army. His personal courage was
unquestioned, his judgment and professional acquirements were
unsurpassed, and he had the confidence of those he commanded as
well as of those over him.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE ARMY AT PITTSBURG LANDING—INJURED BY A FALL—THE
CONFEDERATE ATTACK AT SHILOH—THE FIRST DAY’S FIGHT AT
SHILOH—GENERAL SHERMAN—CONDITION OF THE
ARMY—CLOSE OF THE FIRST DAY’S FIGHT—THE SECOND DAY’S
FIGHT—RETREAT AND DEFEAT OF THE CONFEDERATES.

When I reassumed command on the 17th of March I found the army
divided, about half being on the east bank of the Tennessee at
Savannah, while one division was at Crump’s landing on the west
bank about four miles higher up, and the remainder at Pittsburg
landing, five miles above Crump’s. The enemy was in force at
Corinth, the junction of the two most important railroads in the
Mississippi valley—one connecting Memphis and the Mississippi
River with the East, and the other leading south to all the cotton
states. Still another railroad connects Corinth with Jackson, in
west Tennessee. If we obtained possession of Corinth the enemy
would have no railroad for the transportation of armies or supplies
until that running east from Vicksburg was reached. It was the
great strategic position at the West between the Tennessee and the
Mississippi rivers and between Nashville and Vicksburg.

I at once put all the troops at Savannah in motion for Pittsburg
landing, knowing that the enemy was fortifying at Corinth and
collecting an army there under Johnston. It was my expectation to
march against that army as soon as Buell, who had been ordered to
reinforce me with the Army of the Ohio, should arrive; and the west
bank of the river was the place to start from. Pittsburg is only
about twenty miles from Corinth, and Hamburg landing, four miles
further up the river, is a mile or two nearer. I had not been in
command long before I selected Hamburg as the place to put the Army
of the Ohio when it arrived. The roads from Pittsburg and Hamburg
to Corinth converge some eight miles out. This disposition of the
troops would have given additional roads to march over when the
advance commenced, within supporting distance of each other.

Before I arrived at Savannah, Sherman, who had joined the Army
of the Tennessee and been placed in command of a division, had made
an expedition on steamers convoyed by gunboats to the neighborhood
of Eastport, thirty miles south, for the purpose of destroying the
railroad east of Corinth. The rains had been so heavy for some time
before that the low-lands had become impassable swamps. Sherman
debarked his troops and started out to accomplish the object of the
expedition; but the river was rising so rapidly that the back-water
up the small tributaries threatened to cut off the possibility of
getting back to the boats, and the expedition had to return without
reaching the railroad. The guns had to be hauled by hand through
the water to get back to the boats.

On the 17th of March the army on the Tennessee River consisted
of five divisions, commanded respectively by Generals C. F. Smith,
McClernand, L. Wallace, Hurlbut and Sherman. General W. H. L.
Wallace was temporarily in command of Smith’s division, General
Smith, as I have said, being confined to his bed. Reinforcements
were arriving daily and as they came up they were organized, first
into brigades, then into a division, and the command given to
General Prentiss, who had been ordered to report to me. General
Buell was on his way from Nashville with 40,000 veterans. On the
19th of March he was at Columbia, Tennessee, eighty-five miles from
Pittsburg. When all reinforcements should have arrived I expected
to take the initiative by marching on Corinth, and had no
expectation of needing fortifications, though this subject was
taken into consideration. McPherson, my only military engineer, was
directed to lay out a line to intrench. He did so, but reported
that it would have to be made in rear of the line of encampment as
it then ran. The new line, while it would be nearer the river, was
yet too far away from the Tennessee, or even from the creeks, to be
easily supplied with water, and in case of attack these creeks
would be in the hands of the enemy. The fact is, I regarded the
campaign we were engaged in as an offensive one and had no idea
that the enemy would leave strong intrenchments to take the
initiative when he knew he would be attacked where he was if he
remained. This view, however, did not prevent every precaution
being taken and every effort made to keep advised of all movements
of the enemy.

Johnston’s cavalry meanwhile had been well out towards our
front, and occasional encounters occurred between it and our
outposts. On the 1st of April this cavalry became bold and
approached our lines, showing that an advance of some kind was
contemplated. On the 2d Johnston left Corinth in force to attack my
army. On the 4th his cavalry dashed down and captured a small
picket guard of six or seven men, stationed some five miles out
from Pittsburg on the Corinth road. Colonel Buckland sent relief to
the guard at once and soon followed in person with an entire
regiment, and General Sherman followed Buckland taking the
remainder of a brigade. The pursuit was kept up for some three
miles beyond the point where the picket guard had been captured,
and after nightfall Sherman returned to camp and reported to me by
letter what had occurred.

At this time a large body of the enemy was hovering to the west
of us, along the line of the Mobile and Ohio railroad. My
apprehension was much greater for the safety of Crump’s landing
than it was for Pittsburg. I had no apprehension that the enemy
could really capture either place. But I feared it was possible
that he might make a rapid dash upon Crump’s and destroy our
transports and stores, most of which were kept at that point, and
then retreat before Wallace could be reinforced. Lew. Wallace’s
position I regarded as so well chosen that he was not removed.

At this time I generally spent the day at Pittsburg and returned
to Savannah in the evening. I was intending to remove my
headquarters to Pittsburg, but Buell was expected daily and would
come in at Savannah. I remained at this point, therefore, a few
days longer than I otherwise should have done, in order to meet him
on his arrival. The skirmishing in our front, however, had been so
continuous from about the 3d of April that I did not leave
Pittsburg each night until an hour when I felt there would be no
further danger before the morning.

On Friday the 4th, the day of Buckland’s advance, I was very
much injured by my horse falling with me, and on me, while I was
trying to get to the front where firing had been heard. The night
was one of impenetrable darkness, with rain pouring down in
torrents; nothing was visible to the eye except as revealed by the
frequent flashes of lightning. Under these circumstances I had to
trust to the horse, without guidance, to keep the road. I had not
gone far, however, when I met General W. H. L. Wallace and Colonel
(afterwards General) McPherson coming from the direction of the
front. They said all was quiet so far as the enemy was concerned.
On the way back to the boat my horse’s feet slipped from under him,
and he fell with my leg under his body. The extreme softness of the
ground, from the excessive rains of the few preceding days, no
doubt saved me from a severe injury and protracted lameness. As it
was, my ankle was very much injured, so much so that my boot had to
be cut off. For two or three days after I was unable to walk except
with crutches.

On the 5th General Nelson, with a division of Buell’s army,
arrived at Savannah and I ordered him to move up the east bank of
the river, to be in a position where he could be ferried over to
Crump’s landing or Pittsburg as occasion required. I had learned
that General Buell himself would be at Savannah the next day, and
desired to meet me on his arrival. Affairs at Pittsburg landing had
been such for several days that I did not want to be away during
the day. I determined, therefore, to take a very early breakfast
and ride out to meet Buell, and thus save time. He had arrived on
the evening of the 5th, but had not advised me of the fact and I
was not aware of it until some time after. While I was at
breakfast, however, heavy firing was heard in the direction of
Pittsburg landing, and I hastened there, sending a hurried note to
Buell informing him of the reason why I could not meet him at
Savannah. On the way up the river I directed the dispatch-boat to
run in close to Crump’s landing, so that I could communicate with
General Lew. Wallace. I found him waiting on a boat apparently
expecting to see me, and I directed him to get his troops in line
ready to execute any orders he might receive. He replied that his
troops were already under arms and prepared to move.

Up to that time I had felt by no means certain that Crump’s
landing might not be the point of attack. On reaching the front,
however, about eight A.M., I found that the attack on Pittsburg was
unmistakable, and that nothing more than a small guard, to protect
our transports and stores, was needed at Crump’s. Captain Baxter, a
quartermaster on my staff, was accordingly directed to go back and
order General Wallace to march immediately to Pittsburg by the road
nearest the river. Captain Baxter made a memorandum of this order.
About one P.M., not hearing from Wallace and being much in need of
reinforcements, I sent two more of my staff, Colonel McPherson and
Captain Rowley, to bring him up with his division. They reported
finding him marching towards Purdy, Bethel, or some point west from
the river, and farther from Pittsburg by several miles than when he
started. The road from his first position to Pittsburg landing was
direct and near the river. Between the two points a bridge had been
built across Snake Creek by our troops, at which Wallace’s command
had assisted, expressly to enable the troops at the two places to
support each other in case of need. Wallace did not arrive in time
to take part in the first day’s fight. General Wallace has since
claimed that the order delivered to him by Captain Baxter was
simply to join the right of the army, and that the road over which
he marched would have taken him to the road from Pittsburg to Purdy
where it crosses Owl Creek on the right of Sherman; but this is not
where I had ordered him nor where I wanted him to go.

I never could see and do not now see why any order was necessary
further than to direct him to come to Pittsburg landing, without
specifying by what route. His was one of three veteran divisions
that had been in battle, and its absence was severely felt. Later
in the war General Wallace would not have made the mistake that he
committed on the 6th of April, 1862. I presume his idea was that by
taking the route he did he would be able to come around on the
flank or rear of the enemy, and thus perform an act of heroism that
would redound to the credit of his command, as well as to the
benefit of his country.

Some two or three miles from Pittsburg landing was a log
meeting-house called Shiloh. It stood on the ridge which divides
the waters of Snake and Lick creeks, the former emptying into the
Tennessee just north of Pittsburg landing, and the latter south.
This point was the key to our position and was held by Sherman. His
division was at that time wholly raw, no part of it ever having
been in an engagement; but I thought this deficiency was more than
made up by the superiority of the commander. McClernand was on
Sherman’s left, with troops that had been engaged at forts Henry
and Donelson and were therefore veterans so far as western troops
had become such at that stage of the war. Next to McClernand came
Prentiss with a raw division, and on the extreme left, Stuart with
one brigade of Sherman’s division. Hurlbut was in rear of Prentiss,
massed, and in reserve at the time of the onset. The division of
General C. F. Smith was on the right, also in reserve. General
Smith was still sick in bed at Savannah, but within hearing of our
guns. His services would no doubt have been of inestimable value
had his health permitted his presence. The command of his division
devolved upon Brigadier-General W. H. L. Wallace, a most estimable
and able officer; a veteran too, for he had served a year in the
Mexican war and had been with his command at Henry and Donelson.
Wallace was mortally wounded in the first day’s engagement, and
with the change of commanders thus necessarily effected in the heat
of battle the efficiency of his division was much weakened.

The position of our troops made a continuous line from Lick
Creek on the left to Owl Creek, a branch of Snake Creek, on the
right, facing nearly south and possibly a little west. The water in
all these streams was very high at the time and contributed to
protect our flanks. The enemy was compelled, therefore, to attack
directly in front. This he did with great vigor, inflicting heavy
losses on the National side, but suffering much heavier on his
own.

The Confederate assaults were made with such a disregard of
losses on their own side that our line of tents soon fell into
their hands. The ground on which the battle was fought was
undulating, heavily timbered with scattered clearings, the woods
giving some protection to the troops on both sides. There was also
considerable underbrush. A number of attempts were made by the
enemy to turn our right flank, where Sherman was posted, but every
effort was repulsed with heavy loss. But the front attack was kept
up so vigorously that, to prevent the success of these attempts to
get on our flanks, the National troops were compelled, several
times, to take positions to the rear nearer Pittsburg landing. When
the firing ceased at night the National line was all of a mile in
rear of the position it had occupied in the morning.

In one of the backward moves, on the 6th, the division commanded
by General Prentiss did not fall back with the others. This left
his flanks exposed and enabled the enemy to capture him with about
2,200 of his officers and men. General Badeau gives four o’clock of
the 6th as about the time this capture took place. He may be right
as to the time, but my recollection is that the hour was later.
General Prentiss himself gave the hour as half-past five. I was
with him, as I was with each of the division commanders that day,
several times, and my recollection is that the last time I was with
him was about half-past four, when his division was standing up
firmly and the General was as cool as if expecting victory. But no
matter whether it was four or later, the story that he and his
command were surprised and captured in their camps is without any
foundation whatever. If it had been true, as currently reported at
the time and yet believed by thousands of people, that Prentiss and
his division had been captured in their beds, there would not have
been an all-day struggle, with the loss of thousands killed and
wounded on the Confederate side.

With the single exception of a few minutes after the capture of
Prentiss, a continuous and unbroken line was maintained all day
from Snake Creek or its tributaries on the right to Lick Creek or
the Tennessee on the left above Pittsburg.

There was no hour during the day when there was not heavy firing
and generally hard fighting at some point on the line, but seldom
at all points at the same time. It was a case of Southern dash
against Northern pluck and endurance. Three of the five divisions
engaged on Sunday were entirely raw, and many of the men had only
received their arms on the way from their States to the field. Many
of them had arrived but a day or two before and were hardly able to
load their muskets according to the manual. Their officers were
equally ignorant of their duties. Under these circumstances it is
not astonishing that many of the regiments broke at the first fire.
In two cases, as I now remember, colonels led their regiments from
the field on first hearing the whistle of the enemy’s bullets. In
these cases the colonels were constitutional cowards, unfit for any
military position; but not so the officers and men led out of
danger by them. Better troops never went upon a battle-field than
many of these, officers and men, afterwards proved themselves to
be, who fled panic stricken at the first whistle of bullets and
shell at Shiloh.

During the whole of Sunday I was continuously engaged in passing
from one part of the field to another, giving directions to
division commanders. In thus moving along the line, however, I
never deemed it important to stay long with Sherman. Although his
troops were then under fire for the first time, their commander, by
his constant presence with them, inspired a confidence in officers
and men that enabled them to render services on that bloody
battle-field worthy of the best of veterans. McClernand was next to
Sherman, and the hardest fighting was in front of these two
divisions. McClernand told me on that day, the 6th, that he
profited much by having so able a commander supporting him. A
casualty to Sherman that would have taken him from the field that
day would have been a sad one for the troops engaged at Shiloh. And
how near we came to this! On the 6th Sherman was shot twice, once
in the hand, once in the shoulder, the ball cutting his coat and
making a slight wound, and a third ball passed through his hat. In
addition to this he had several horses shot during the day.

The nature of this battle was such that cavalry could not be
used in front; I therefore formed ours into line in rear, to stop
stragglers—of whom there were many. When there would be
enough of them to make a show, and after they had recovered from
their fright, they would be sent to reinforce some part of the line
which needed support, without regard to their companies, regiments
or brigades.

On one occasion during the day I rode back as far as the river
and met General Buell, who had just arrived; I do not remember the
hour, but at that time there probably were as many as four or five
thousand stragglers lying under cover of the river bluff,
panic-stricken, most of whom would have been shot where they lay,
without resistance, before they would have taken muskets and
marched to the front to protect themselves. This meeting between
General Buell and myself was on the dispatch-boat used to run
between the landing and Savannah. It was brief, and related
specially to his getting his troops over the river. As we left the
boat together, Buell’s attention was attracted by the men lying
under cover of the river bank. I saw him berating them and trying
to shame them into joining their regiments. He even threatened them
with shells from the gunboats near by. But it was all to no effect.
Most of these men afterward proved themselves as gallant as any of
those who saved the battle from which they had deserted. I have no
doubt that this sight impressed General Buell with the idea that a
line of retreat would be a good thing just then. If he had come in
by the front instead of through the stragglers in the rear, he
would have thought and felt differently. Could he have come through
the Confederate rear, he would have witnessed there a scene similar
to that at our own. The distant rear of an army engaged in battle
is not the best place from which to judge correctly what is going
on in front. Later in the war, while occupying the country between
the Tennessee and the Mississippi, I learned that the panic in the
Confederate lines had not differed much from that within our own.
Some of the country people estimated the stragglers from Johnston’s
army as high as 20,000. Of course this was an exaggeration.

The situation at the close of Sunday was as follows: along the
top of the bluff just south of the log-house which stood at
Pittsburg landing, Colonel J. D. Webster, of my staff, had arranged
twenty or more pieces of artillery facing south or up the river.
This line of artillery was on the crest of a hill overlooking a
deep ravine opening into the Tennessee. Hurlbut with his division
intact was on the right of this artillery, extending west and
possibly a little north. McClernand came next in the general line,
looking more to the west. His division was complete in its
organization and ready for any duty. Sherman came next, his right
extending to Snake Creek. His command, like the other two, was
complete in its organization and ready, like its chief, for any
service it might be called upon to render. All three divisions
were, as a matter of course, more or less shattered and depleted in
numbers from the terrible battle of the day. The division of W. H.
L. Wallace, as much from the disorder arising from changes of
division and brigade commanders, under heavy fire, as from any
other cause, had lost its organization and did not occupy a place
in the line as a division. Prentiss’ command was gone as a
division, many of its members having been killed, wounded or
captured, but it had rendered valiant services before its final
dispersal, and had contributed a good share to the defence of
Shiloh.

The right of my line rested near the bank of Snake Creek, a
short distance above the bridge which had been built by the troops
for the purpose of connecting Crump’s landing and Pittsburg
landing. Sherman had posted some troops in a log-house and
out-buildings which overlooked both the bridge over which Wallace
was expected and the creek above that point. In this last position
Sherman was frequently attacked before night, but held the point
until he voluntarily abandoned it to advance in order to make room
for Lew. Wallace, who came up after dark.

There was, as I have said, a deep ravine in front of our left.
The Tennessee River was very high and there was water to a
considerable depth in the ravine. Here the enemy made a last
desperate effort to turn our flank, but was repelled. The gunboats
Tyler and Lexington, Gwin and Shirk commanding, with the artillery
under Webster, aided the army and effectually checked their further
progress. Before any of Buell’s troops had reached the west bank of
the Tennessee, firing had almost entirely ceased; anything like an
attempt on the part of the enemy to advance had absolutely ceased.
There was some artillery firing from an unseen enemy, some of his
shells passing beyond us; but I do not remember that there was the
whistle of a single musket-ball heard. As his troops arrived in the
dusk General Buell marched several of his regiments part way down
the face of the hill where they fired briskly for some minutes, but
I do not think a single man engaged in this firing received an
injury. The attack had spent its force.

General Lew. Wallace, with 5,000 effective men, arrived after
firing had ceased for the day, and was placed on the right. Thus
night came, Wallace came, and the advance of Nelson’s division
came; but none—unless night—in time to be of material
service to the gallant men who saved Shiloh on that first day
against large odds. Buell’s loss on the 6th of April was two men
killed and one wounded, all members of the 36th Indiana infantry.
The Army of the Tennessee lost on that day at least 7,000 men. The
presence of two or three regiments of Buell’s army on the west bank
before firing ceased had not the slightest effect in preventing the
capture of Pittsburg landing.

So confident was I before firing had ceased on the 6th that the
next day would bring victory to our arms if we could only take the
initiative, that I visited each division commander in person before
any reinforcements had reached the field. I directed them to throw
out heavy lines of skirmishers in the morning as soon as they could
see, and push them forward until they found the enemy, following
with their entire divisions in supporting distance, and to engage
the enemy as soon as found. To Sherman I told the story of the
assault at Fort Donelson, and said that the same tactics would win
at Shiloh. Victory was assured when Wallace arrived, even if there
had been no other support. I was glad, however, to see the
reinforcements of Buell and credit them with doing all there was
for them to do.

During the night of the 6th the remainder of Nelson’s division,
Buell’s army crossed the river and were ready to advance in the
morning, forming the left wing. Two other divisions, Crittenden’s
and McCook’s, came up the river from Savannah in the transports and
were on the west bank early on the 7th. Buell commanded them in
person. My command was thus nearly doubled in numbers and
efficiency.

During the night rain fell in torrents and our troops were
exposed to the storm without shelter. I made my headquarters under
a tree a few hundred yards back from the river bank. My ankle was
so much swollen from the fall of my horse the Friday night
preceding, and the bruise was so painful, that I could get no
rest.

The drenching rain would have precluded the possibility of sleep
without this additional cause. Some time after midnight, growing
restive under the storm and the continuous pain, I moved back to
the log-house under the bank. This had been taken as a hospital,
and all night wounded men were being brought in, their wounds
dressed, a leg or an arm amputated as the case might require, and
everything being done to save life or alleviate suffering. The
sight was more unendurable than encountering the enemy’s fire, and
I returned to my tree in the rain.

The advance on the morning of the 7th developed the enemy in the
camps occupied by our troops before the battle began, more than a
mile back from the most advanced position of the Confederates on
the day before. It is known now that they had not yet learned of
the arrival of Buell’s command. Possibly they fell back so far to
get the shelter of our tents during the rain, and also to get away
from the shells that were dropped upon them by the gunboats every
fifteen minutes during the night.

The position of the Union troops on the morning of the 7th was
as follows: General Lew. Wallace on the right; Sherman on his left;
then McClernand and then Hurlbut. Nelson, of Buell’s army, was on
our extreme left, next to the river.

Crittenden was next in line after Nelson and on his right,
McCook followed and formed the extreme right of Buell’s command. My
old command thus formed the right wing, while the troops directly
under Buell constituted the left wing of the army. These relative
positions were retained during the entire day, or until the enemy
was driven from the field.

In a very short time the battle became general all along the
line. This day everything was favorable to the Union side. We had
now become the attacking party. The enemy was driven back all day,
as we had been the day before, until finally he beat a precipitate
retreat. The last point held by him was near the road leading from
the landing to Corinth, on the left of Sherman and right of
McClernand. About three o’clock, being near that point and seeing
that the enemy was giving way everywhere else, I gathered up a
couple of regiments, or parts of regiments, from troops near by,
formed them in line of battle and marched them forward, going in
front myself to prevent premature or long-range firing. At this
point there was a clearing between us and the enemy favorable for
charging, although exposed. I knew the enemy were ready to break
and only wanted a little encouragement from us to go quickly and
join their friends who had started earlier. After marching to
within musket-range I stopped and let the troops pass. The command,
CHARGE, was given, and was executed with loud cheers and with a
run; when the last of the enemy broke.

[NOTE.—Since writing this chapter I have received from Mrs.
W. H. L. Wallace, widow of the gallant general who was killed in
the first day’s fight on the field of Shiloh, a letter from General
Lew. Wallace to him dated the morning of the 5th. At the date of
this letter it was well known that the Confederates had troops out
along the Mobile & Ohio railroad west of Crump’s landing and
Pittsburg landing, and were also collecting near Shiloh. This
letter shows that at that time General Lew. Wallace was making
preparations for the emergency that might happen for the passing of
reinforcements between Shiloh and his position, extending from
Crump’s landing westward, and he sends it over the road running
from Adamsville to the Pittsburg landing and Purdy road. These two
roads intersect nearly a mile west of the crossing of the latter
over Owl Creek, where our right rested. In this letter General Lew.
Wallace advises General W. H. L. Wallace that he will send
“to-morrow” (and his letter also says “April 5th,” which is the
same day the letter was dated and which, therefore, must have been
written on the 4th) some cavalry to report to him at his
headquarters, and suggesting the propriety of General W. H. L.
Wallace’s sending a company back with them for the purpose of
having the cavalry at the two landings familiarize themselves with
the road so that they could “act promptly in case of emergency as
guides to and from the different camps.”

This modifies very materially what I have said, and what has been
said by others, of the conduct of General Lew. Wallace at the
battle of Shiloh. It shows that he naturally, with no more
experience than he had at the time in the profession of arms, would
take the particular road that he did start upon in the absence of
orders to move by a different road.

The mistake he made, and which probably caused his apparent
dilatoriness, was that of advancing some distance after he found
that the firing, which would be at first directly to his front and
then off to the left, had fallen back until it had got very much in
rear of the position of his advance. This falling back had taken
place before I sent General Wallace orders to move up to Pittsburg
landing and, naturally, my order was to follow the road nearest the
river. But my order was verbal, and to a staff officer who was to
deliver it to General Wallace, so that I am not competent to say
just what order the General actually received.

General Wallace’s division was stationed, the First brigade at
Crump’s landing, the Second out two miles, and the Third two and a
half miles out. Hearing the sounds of battle General Wallace early
ordered his First and Third brigades to concentrate on the Second.
If the position of our front had not changed, the road which
Wallace took would have been somewhat shorter to our right than the
River road.

U. S. GRANT.

MOUNT MACGREGOR, NEW YORK, June 21, 1885.

CHAPTER XXV.

STRUCK BY A BULLET—PRECIPITATE RETREAT OF THE
CONFEDERATES—INTRENCHMENTS AT SHILOH—GENERAL
BUELL—GENERAL JOHNSTON—REMARKS ON SHILOH.

During this second day of the battle I had been moving from
right to left and back, to see for myself the progress made. In the
early part of the afternoon, while riding with Colonel McPherson
and Major Hawkins, then my chief commissary, we got beyond the left
of our troops. We were moving along the northern edge of a
clearing, very leisurely, toward the river above the landing. There
did not appear to be an enemy to our right, until suddenly a
battery with musketry opened upon us from the edge of the woods on
the other side of the clearing. The shells and balls whistled about
our ears very fast for about a minute. I do not think it took us
longer than that to get out of range and out of sight. In the
sudden start we made, Major Hawkins lost his hat. He did not stop
to pick it up. When we arrived at a perfectly safe position we
halted to take an account of damages. McPherson’s horse was panting
as if ready to drop. On examination it was found that a ball had
struck him forward of the flank just back of the saddle, and had
gone entirely through. In a few minutes the poor beast dropped
dead; he had given no sign of injury until we came to a stop. A
ball had struck the metal scabbard of my sword, just below the
hilt, and broken it nearly off; before the battle was over it had
broken off entirely. There were three of us: one had lost a horse,
killed; one a hat and one a sword-scabbard. All were thankful that
it was no worse.

After the rain of the night before and the frequent and heavy
rains for some days previous, the roads were almost impassable. The
enemy carrying his artillery and supply trains over them in his
retreat, made them still worse for troops following. I wanted to
pursue, but had not the heart to order the men who had fought
desperately for two days, lying in the mud and rain whenever not
fighting, and I did not feel disposed to positively order Buell, or
any part of his command, to pursue. Although the senior in rank at
the time I had been so only a few weeks. Buell was, and had been
for some time past, a department commander, while I commanded only
a district. I did not meet Buell in person until too late to get
troops ready and pursue with effect; but had I seen him at the
moment of the last charge I should have at least requested him to
follow.

[NOTE: In an article on the battle of Shiloh which I
wrote for the Century Magazine, I stated that General A. McD.
McCook, who commanded a division of Buell’s army, expressed some
unwillingness to pursue the enemy on Monday, April 7th, because of
the condition of his troops. General Badeau, in his history, also
makes the same statement, on my authority. Out of justice to
General McCook and his command, I must say that they left a point
twenty-two miles east of Savannah on the morning of the 6th. From
the heavy rains of a few days previous and the passage of trains
and artillery, the roads were necessarily deep in mud, which made
marching slow. The division had not only marched through this mud
the day before, but it had been in the rain all night without rest.
It was engaged in the battle of the second day and did as good
service as its position allowed. In fact an opportunity occurred
for it to perform a conspicuous act of gallantry which elicited the
highest commendation from division commanders in the Army of the
Tennessee. General Sherman both in his memoirs and report makes
mention of this fact. General McCook himself belongs to a family
which furnished many volunteers to the army. I refer to these
circumstances with minuteness because I did General McCook
injustice in my article in the Century, though not to the extent
one would suppose from the public press. I am not willing to do any
one an injustice, and if convinced that I have done one, I am
always willing to make the fullest admission.]

I rode forward several miles the day after the battle, and found
that the enemy had dropped much, if not all, of their provisions,
some ammunition and the extra wheels of their caissons, lightening
their loads to enable them to get off their guns. About five miles
out we found their field hospital abandoned. An immediate pursuit
must have resulted in the capture of a considerable number of
prisoners and probably some guns.

Shiloh was the severest battle fought at the West during the
war, and but few in the East equalled it for hard, determined
fighting. I saw an open field, in our possession on the second day,
over which the Confederates had made repeated charges the day
before, so covered with dead that it would have been possible to
walk across the clearing, in any direction, stepping on dead
bodies, without a foot touching the ground. On our side National
and Confederate troops were mingled together in about equal
proportions; but on the remainder of the field nearly all were
Confederates. On one part, which had evidently not been ploughed
for several years, probably because the land was poor, bushes had
grown up, some to the height of eight or ten feet. There was not
one of these left standing unpierced by bullets. The smaller ones
were all cut down.

Contrary to all my experience up to that time, and to the
experience of the army I was then commanding, we were on the
defensive. We were without intrenchments or defensive advantages of
any sort, and more than half the army engaged the first day was
without experience or even drill as soldiers. The officers with
them, except the division commanders and possibly two or three of
the brigade commanders, were equally inexperienced in war. The
result was a Union victory that gave the men who achieved it great
confidence in themselves ever after.

The enemy fought bravely, but they had started out to defeat and
destroy an army and capture a position. They failed in both, with
very heavy loss in killed and wounded, and must have gone back
discouraged and convinced that the “Yankee” was not an enemy to be
despised.

After the battle I gave verbal instructions to division
commanders to let the regiments send out parties to bury their own
dead, and to detail parties, under commissioned officers from each
division, to bury the Confederate dead in their respective fronts
and to report the numbers so buried. The latter part of these
instructions was not carried out by all; but they were by those
sent from Sherman’s division, and by some of the parties sent out
by McClernand. The heaviest loss sustained by the enemy was in
front of these two divisions.

The criticism has often been made that the Union troops should
have been intrenched at Shiloh. Up to that time the pick and spade
had been but little resorted to at the West. I had, however, taken
this subject under consideration soon after re-assuming command in
the field, and, as already stated, my only military engineer
reported unfavorably. Besides this, the troops with me, officers
and men, needed discipline and drill more than they did experience
with the pick, shovel and axe. Reinforcements were arriving almost
daily, composed of troops that had been hastily thrown together
into companies and regiments—fragments of incomplete
organizations, the men and officers strangers to each other. Under
all these circumstances I concluded that drill and discipline were
worth more to our men than fortifications.

General Buell was a brave, intelligent officer, with as much
professional pride and ambition of a commendable sort as I ever
knew. I had been two years at West Point with him, and had served
with him afterwards, in garrison and in the Mexican war, several
years more. He was not given in early life or in mature years to
forming intimate acquaintances. He was studious by habit, and
commanded the confidence and respect of all who knew him. He was a
strict disciplinarian, and perhaps did not distinguish sufficiently
between the volunteer who “enlisted for the war” and the soldier
who serves in time of peace. One system embraced men who risked
life for a principle, and often men of social standing, competence,
or wealth and independence of character. The other includes, as a
rule, only men who could not do as well in any other occupation.
General Buell became an object of harsh criticism later, some going
so far as to challenge his loyalty. No one who knew him ever
believed him capable of a dishonorable act, and nothing could be
more dishonorable than to accept high rank and command in war and
then betray the trust. When I came into command of the army in
1864, I requested the Secretary of War to restore General Buell to
duty.

After the war, during the summer of 1865, I travelled
considerably through the North, and was everywhere met by large
numbers of people. Every one had his opinion about the manner in
which the war had been conducted: who among the generals had
failed, how, and why. Correspondents of the press were ever on hand
to hear every word dropped, and were not always disposed to report
correctly what did not confirm their preconceived notions, either
about the conduct of the war or the individuals concerned in it.
The opportunity frequently occurred for me to defend General Buell
against what I believed to be most unjust charges. On one occasion
a correspondent put in my mouth the very charge I had so often
refuted—of disloyalty. This brought from General Buell a very
severe retort, which I saw in the New York World some time before I
received the letter itself. I could very well understand his
grievance at seeing untrue and disgraceful charges apparently
sustained by an officer who, at the time, was at the head of the
army. I replied to him, but not through the press. I kept no copy
of my letter, nor did I ever see it in print; neither did I receive
an answer.

General Albert Sidney Johnston, who commanded the Confederate
forces at the beginning of the battle, was disabled by a wound on
the afternoon of the first day. This wound, as I understood
afterwards, was not necessarily fatal, or even dangerous. But he
was a man who would not abandon what he deemed an important trust
in the face of danger and consequently continued in the saddle,
commanding, until so exhausted by the loss of blood that he had to
be taken from his horse, and soon after died. The news was not long
in reaching our side and I suppose was quite an encouragement to
the National soldiers.

I had known Johnston slightly in the Mexican war and later as an
officer in the regular army. He was a man of high character and
ability. His contemporaries at West Point, and officers generally
who came to know him personally later and who remained on our side,
expected him to prove the most formidable man to meet that the
Confederacy would produce.

I once wrote that nothing occurred in his brief command of an
army to prove or disprove the high estimate that had been placed
upon his military ability; but after studying the orders and
dispatches of Johnston I am compelled to materially modify my views
of that officer’s qualifications as a soldier. My judgment now is
that he was vacillating and undecided in his actions.

All the disasters in Kentucky and Tennessee were so discouraging
to the authorities in Richmond that Jefferson Davis wrote an
unofficial letter to Johnston expressing his own anxiety and that
of the public, and saying that he had made such defence as was
dictated by long friendship, but that in the absence of a report he
needed facts. The letter was not a reprimand in direct terms, but
it was evidently as much felt as though it had been one. General
Johnston raised another army as rapidly as he could, and fortified
or strongly intrenched at Corinth. He knew the National troops were
preparing to attack him in his chosen position. But he had
evidently become so disturbed at the results of his operations that
he resolved to strike out in an offensive campaign which would
restore all that was lost, and if successful accomplish still more.
We have the authority of his son and biographer for saying that his
plan was to attack the forces at Shiloh and crush them; then to
cross the Tennessee and destroy the army of Buell, and push the war
across the Ohio River. The design was a bold one; but we have the
same authority for saying that in the execution Johnston showed
vacillation and indecision. He left Corinth on the 2d of April and
was not ready to attack until the 6th. The distance his army had to
march was less than twenty miles. Beauregard, his second in
command, was opposed to the attack for two reasons: first, he
thought, if let alone the National troops would attack the
Confederates in their intrenchments; second, we were in ground of
our own choosing and would necessarily be intrenched. Johnston not
only listened to the objection of Beauregard to an attack, but held
a council of war on the subject on the morning of the 5th. On the
evening of the same day he was in consultation with some of his
generals on the same subject, and still again on the morning of the
6th. During this last consultation, and before a decision had been
reached, the battle began by the National troops opening fire on
the enemy. This seemed to settle the question as to whether there
was to be any battle of Shiloh. It also seems to me to settle the
question as to whether there was a surprise.

I do not question the personal courage of General Johnston, or
his ability. But he did not win the distinction predicted for him
by many of his friends. He did prove that as a general he was
over-estimated.

General Beauregard was next in rank to Johnston and succeeded to
the command, which he retained to the close of the battle and
during the subsequent retreat on Corinth, as well as in the siege
of that place. His tactics have been severely criticised by
Confederate writers, but I do not believe his fallen chief could
have done any better under the circumstances. Some of these critics
claim that Shiloh was won when Johnston fell, and that if he had
not fallen the army under me would have been annihilated or
captured. IFS defeated the Confederates at Shiloh. There is little
doubt that we would have been disgracefully beaten IF all the
shells and bullets fired by us had passed harmlessly over the enemy
and IF all of theirs had taken effect. Commanding generals are
liable to be killed during engagements; and the fact that when he
was shot Johnston was leading a brigade to induce it to make a
charge which had been repeatedly ordered, is evidence that there
was neither the universal demoralization on our side nor the
unbounded confidence on theirs which has been claimed. There was,
in fact, no hour during the day when I doubted the eventual defeat
of the enemy, although I was disappointed that reinforcements so
near at hand did not arrive at an earlier hour.

The description of the battle of Shiloh given by Colonel Wm.
Preston Johnston is very graphic and well told. The reader will
imagine that he can see each blow struck, a demoralized and broken
mob of Union soldiers, each blow sending the enemy more demoralized
than ever towards the Tennessee River, which was a little more than
two miles away at the beginning of the onset. If the reader does
not stop to inquire why, with such Confederate success for more
than twelve hours of hard fighting, the National troops were not
all killed, captured or driven into the river, he will regard the
pen picture as perfect. But I witnessed the fight from the National
side from eight o’clock in the morning until night closed the
contest. I see but little in the description that I can recognize.
The Confederate troops fought well and deserve commendation enough
for their bravery and endurance on the 6th of April, without
detracting from their antagonists or claiming anything more than
their just dues.

The reports of the enemy show that their condition at the end of
the first day was deplorable; their losses in killed and wounded
had been very heavy, and their stragglers had been quite as
numerous as on the National side, with the difference that those of
the enemy left the field entirely and were not brought back to
their respective commands for many days. On the Union side but few
of the stragglers fell back further than the landing on the river,
and many of these were in line for duty on the second day. The
admissions of the highest Confederate officers engaged at Shiloh
make the claim of a victory for them absurd. The victory was not to
either party until the battle was over. It was then a Union
victory, in which the Armies of the Tennessee and the Ohio both
participated. But the Army of the Tennessee fought the entire rebel
army on the 6th and held it at bay until near night; and night
alone closed the conflict and not the three regiments of Nelson’s
division.

The Confederates fought with courage at Shiloh, but the
particular skill claimed I could not and still cannot see; though
there is nothing to criticise except the claims put forward for it
since. But the Confederate claimants for superiority in strategy,
superiority in generalship and superiority in dash and prowess are
not so unjust to the Union troops engaged at Shiloh as are many
Northern writers. The troops on both sides were American, and
united they need not fear any foreign foe. It is possible that the
Southern man started in with a little more dash than his Northern
brother; but he was correspondingly less enduring.

The endeavor of the enemy on the first day was simply to hurl
their men against ours—first at one point, then at another,
sometimes at several points at once. This they did with daring and
energy, until at night the rebel troops were worn out. Our effort
during the same time was to be prepared to resist assaults wherever
made. The object of the Confederates on the second day was to get
away with as much of their army and material as possible. Ours then
was to drive them from our front, and to capture or destroy as
great a part as possible of their men and material. We were
successful in driving them back, but not so successful in captures
as if farther pursuit could have been made. As it was, we captured
or recaptured on the second day about as much artillery as we lost
on the first; and, leaving out the one great capture of Prentiss,
we took more prisoners on Monday than the enemy gained from us on
Sunday. On the 6th Sherman lost seven pieces of artillery,
McClernand six, Prentiss eight, and Hurlbut two batteries. On the
7th Sherman captured seven guns, McClernand three and the Army of
the Ohio twenty.

At Shiloh the effective strength of the Union forces on the
morning of the 6th was 33,000 men. Lew. Wallace brought 5,000 more
after nightfall. Beauregard reported the enemy’s strength at
40,955. According to the custom of enumeration in the South, this
number probably excluded every man enlisted as musician or detailed
as guard or nurse, and all commissioned officers—everybody
who did not carry a musket or serve a cannon. With us everybody in
the field receiving pay from the government is counted. Excluding
the troops who fled, panic-stricken, before they had fired a shot,
there was not a time during the 6th when we had more than 25,000
men in line. On the 7th Buell brought 20,000 more. Of his remaining
two divisions, Thomas’s did not reach the field during the
engagement; Wood’s arrived before firing had ceased, but not in
time to be of much service.

Our loss in the two days’ fight was 1,754 killed, 8,408 wounded
and 2,885 missing. Of these, 2,103 were in the Army of the Ohio.
Beauregard reported a total loss of 10,699, of whom 1,728 were
killed, 8,012 wounded and 957 missing. This estimate must be
incorrect. We buried, by actual count, more of the enemy’s dead in
front of the divisions of McClernand and Sherman alone than here
reported, and 4,000 was the estimate of the burial parties of the
whole field. Beauregard reports the Confederate force on the 6th at
over 40,000, and their total loss during the two days at 10,699;
and at the same time declares that he could put only 20,000 men in
battle on the morning of the 7th.

The navy gave a hearty support to the army at Shiloh, as indeed
it always did both before and subsequently when I was in command.
The nature of the ground was such, however, that on this occasion
it could do nothing in aid of the troops until sundown on the first
day. The country was broken and heavily timbered, cutting off all
view of the battle from the river, so that friends would be as much
in danger from fire from the gunboats as the foe. But about
sundown, when the National troops were back in their last position,
the right of the enemy was near the river and exposed to the fire
of the two gun-boats, which was delivered with vigor and effect.
After nightfall, when firing had entirely ceased on land, the
commander of the fleet informed himself, approximately, of the
position of our troops and suggested the idea of dropping a shell
within the lines of the enemy every fifteen minutes during the
night. This was done with effect, as is proved by the Confederate
reports.

Up to the battle of Shiloh I, as well as thousands of other
citizens, believed that the rebellion against the Government would
collapse suddenly and soon, if a decisive victory could be gained
over any of its armies. Donelson and Henry were such victories. An
army of more than 21,000 men was captured or destroyed. Bowling
Green, Columbus and Hickman, Kentucky, fell in consequence, and
Clarksville and Nashville, Tennessee, the last two with an immense
amount of stores, also fell into our hands. The Tennessee and
Cumberland rivers, from their mouths to the head of navigation,
were secured. But when Confederate armies were collected which not
only attempted to hold a line farther south, from Memphis to
Chattanooga, Knoxville and on to the Atlantic, but assumed the
offensive and made such a gallant effort to regain what had been
lost, then, indeed, I gave up all idea of saving the Union except
by complete conquest. Up to that time it had been the policy of our
army, certainly of that portion commanded by me, to protect the
property of the citizens whose territory was invaded, without
regard to their sentiments, whether Union or Secession. After this,
however, I regarded it as humane to both sides to protect the
persons of those found at their homes, but to consume everything
that could be used to support or supply armies. Protection was
still continued over such supplies as were within lines held by us
and which we expected to continue to hold; but such supplies within
the reach of Confederate armies I regarded as much contraband as
arms or ordnance stores. Their destruction was accomplished without
bloodshed and tended to the same result as the destruction of
armies. I continued this policy to the close of the war.
Promiscuous pillaging, however, was discouraged and punished.
Instructions were always given to take provisions and forage under
the direction of commissioned officers who should give receipts to
owners, if at home, and turn the property over to officers of the
quartermaster or commissary departments to be issued as if
furnished from our Northern depots. But much was destroyed without
receipts to owners, when it could not be brought within our lines
and would otherwise have gone to the support of secession and
rebellion.