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Title: Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant, Complete

Author: Ulysses S. Grant

Release date: June 1, 2004 [eBook #4367]
Most recently updated: June 10, 2026

Language: English

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Credits: David Widger

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PERSONAL
MEMOIRS OF U. S. GRANT, COMPLETE ***

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 described 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 any 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
clackos—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 Cuantla. 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 clacko, 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 steam 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, ex-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.
This policy I believe exercised a material influence in hastening the end.
The battle of Shiloh, or Pittsburg landing, has been perhaps less
understood, or, to state the case more accurately, more persistently
misunderstood, than any other engagement between National and
Confederate troops during the entire rebellion. Correct reports of the battle
have been published, notably by Sherman, Badeau and, in a speech before a
meeting of veterans, by General Prentiss; but all of these appeared long
subsequent to the close of the rebellion and after public opinion had been
most erroneously formed.
I myself made no report to General Halleck, further than was contained
in a letter, written immediately after the battle informing him that an
engagement had been fought and announcing the result. A few days
afterwards General Halleck moved his headquarters to Pittsburg landing
and assumed command of the troops in the field. Although next to him in

rank, and nominally in command of my old district and army, I was ignored
as much as if I had been at the most distant point of territory within my
jurisdiction; and although I was in command of all the troops engaged at
Shiloh I was not permitted to see one of the reports of General Buell or his
subordinates in that battle, until they were published by the War Department
long after the event. For this reason I never made a full official report of this
engagement.

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

General Halleck arrived at Pittsburg landing on the 11th of April and
immediately assumed command in the field. On the 21st General Pope
arrived with an army 30,000 strong, fresh from the capture of Island
Number Ten in the Mississippi River. He went into camp at Hamburg
landing five miles above Pittsburg. Halleck had now three armies: the Army
of the Ohio, Buell commanding; the Army of the Mississippi, Pope
commanding; and the Army of the Tennessee. His orders divided the
combined force into the right wing, reserve, centre and left wing. Major-
General George H. Thomas, who had been in Buell's army, was transferred
with his division to the Army of the Tennessee and given command of the
right wing, composed of all of that army except McClernand's and Lew.
Wallace's divisions. McClernand was assigned to the command of the
reserve, composed of his own and Lew. Wallace's divisions. Buell
commanded the centre, the Army of the Ohio; and Pope the left wing, the
Army of the Mississippi. I was named second in command of the whole,
and was also supposed to be in command of the right wing and reserve.
Orders were given to all the commanders engaged at Shiloh to send in
their reports without delay to department headquarters. Those from officers
of the Army of the Tennessee were sent through me; but from the Army of
the Ohio they were sent by General Buell without passing through my
hands. General Halleck ordered me, verbally, to send in my report, but I
positively declined on the ground that he had received the reports of a part
of the army engaged at Shiloh without their coming through me. He
admitted that my refusal was justifiable under the circumstances, but
explained that he had wanted to get the reports off before moving the
command, and as fast as a report had come to him he had forwarded it to
Washington.

Preparations were at once made upon the arrival of the new commander
for an advance on Corinth. Owl Creek, on our right, was bridged, and
expeditions were sent to the north-west and west to ascertain if our position
was being threatened from those quarters; the roads towards Corinth were
corduroyed and new ones made; lateral roads were also constructed, so that
in case of necessity troops marching by different routes could reinforce
each other. All commanders were cautioned against bringing on an
engagement and informed in so many words that it would be better to
retreat than to fight. By the 30th of April all preparations were complete;
the country west to the Mobile and Ohio railroad had been reconnoitred, as
well as the road to Corinth as far as Monterey twelve miles from Pittsburg.
Everywhere small bodies of the enemy had been encountered, but they were
observers and not in force to fight battles.
Corinth, Mississippi, lies in a south-westerly direction from Pittsburg
landing and about nineteen miles away as the bird would fly, but probably
twenty-two by the nearest wagon-road. It is about four miles south of the
line dividing the States of Tennessee and Mississippi, and at the junction of
the Mississippi and Chattanooga railroad with the Mobile and Ohio road
which runs from Columbus to Mobile. From Pittsburg to Corinth the land is
rolling, but at no point reaching an elevation that makes high hills to pass
over. In 1862 the greater part of the country was covered with forest with
intervening clearings and houses. Underbrush was dense in the low grounds
along the creeks and ravines, but generally not so thick on the high land as
to prevent men passing through with ease. There are two small creeks
running from north of the town and connecting some four miles south,
where they form Bridge Creek which empties into the Tuscumbia River.
Corinth is on the ridge between these streams and is a naturally strong
defensive position. The creeks are insignificant in volume of water, but the
stream to the east widens out in front of the town into a swamp impassable
in the presence of an enemy. On the crest of the west bank of this stream the
enemy was strongly intrenched.

Corinth was a valuable strategic point for the enemy to hold, and
consequently a valuable one for us to possess ourselves of. We ought to
have seized it immediately after the fall of Donelson and Nashville, when it
could have been taken without a battle, but failing then it should have been
taken, without delay on the concentration of troops at Pittsburg landing after
the battle of Shiloh. In fact the arrival of Pope should not have been
awaited. There was no time from the battle of Shiloh up to the evacuation of
Corinth when the enemy would not have left if pushed. The demoralization
among the Confederates from their defeats at Henry and Donelson; their

long marches from Bowling Green, Columbus, and Nashville, and their
failure at Shiloh; in fact from having been driven out of Kentucky and
Tennessee, was so great that a stand for the time would have been
impossible. Beauregard made strenuous efforts to reinforce himself and
partially succeeded. He appealed to the people of the South-west for new
regiments, and received a few. A. S. Johnston had made efforts to reinforce
in the same quarter, before the battle of Shiloh, but in a different way. He
had negroes sent out to him to take the place of teamsters, company cooks
and laborers in every capacity, so as to put all his white men into the ranks.
The people, while willing to send their sons to the field, were not willing to
part with their negroes. It is only fair to state that they probably wanted
their blacks to raise supplies for the army and for the families left at home.
Beauregard, however, was reinforced by Van Dorn immediately after
Shiloh with 17,000 men. Interior points, less exposed, were also depleted to
add to the strength at Corinth. With these reinforcements and the new
regiments, Beauregard had, during the month of May, 1862, a large force on
paper, but probably not much over 50,000 effective men. We estimated his
strength at 70,000. Our own was, in round numbers, 120,000. The
defensible nature of the ground at Corinth, and the fortifications, made
50,000 then enough to maintain their position against double that number
for an indefinite time but for the demoralization spoken of.
On the 30th of April the grand army commenced its advance from Shiloh
upon Corinth. The movement was a siege from the start to the close. The
National troops were always behind intrenchments, except of course the
small reconnoitring parties sent to the front to clear the way for an advance.
Even the commanders of these parties were cautioned, "not to bring on an
engagement." "It is better to retreat than to fight." The enemy were
constantly watching our advance, but as they were simply observers there
were but few engagements that even threatened to become battles. All the
engagements fought ought to have served to encourage the enemy. Roads
were again made in our front, and again corduroyed; a line was intrenched,
and the troops were advanced to the new position. Cross roads were
constructed to these new positions to enable the troops to concentrate in
case of attack. The National armies were thoroughly intrenched all the way
from the Tennessee River to Corinth.

For myself I was little more than an observer. Orders were sent direct to
the right wing or reserve, ignoring me, and advances were made from one
line of intrenchments to another without notifying me. My position was so
embarrassing in fact that I made several applications during the siege to be
relieved.
General Halleck kept his headquarters generally, if not all the time, with
the right wing. Pope being on the extreme left did not see so much of his
chief, and consequently got loose as it were at times. On the 3d of May he
was at Seven Mile Creek with the main body of his command, but threw
forward a division to Farmington, within four miles of Corinth. His troops
had quite a little engagement at Farmington on that day, but carried the
place with considerable loss to the enemy. There would then have been no
difficulty in advancing the centre and right so as to form a new line well up
to the enemy, but Pope was ordered back to conform with the general line.
On the 8th of May he moved again, taking his whole force to Farmington,
and pushed out two divisions close to the rebel line. Again he was ordered
back. By the 4th of May the centre and right wing reached Monterey,
twelve miles out. Their advance was slow from there, for they intrenched
with every forward movement. The left wing moved up again on the 25th of
May and intrenched itself close to the enemy. The creek with the marsh
before described, separated the two lines. Skirmishers thirty feet apart could
have maintained either line at this point.
Our centre and right were, at this time, extended so that the right of the
right wing was probably five miles from Corinth and four from the works in
their front. The creek, which was a formidable obstacle for either side to
pass on our left, became a very slight obstacle on our right. Here the enemy
occupied two positions. One of them, as much as two miles out from his
main line, was on a commanding elevation and defended by an intrenched
battery with infantry supports. A heavy wood intervened between this work
and the National forces. In rear to the south there was a clearing extending a
mile or more, and south of this clearing a log-house which had been loop-
holed and was occupied by infantry. Sherman's division carried these two
positions with some loss to himself, but with probably greater to the enemy,
on the 28th of May, and on that day the investment of Corinth was
complete, or as complete as it was ever made. Thomas' right now rested
west of the Mobile and Ohio railroad. Pope's left commanded the Memphis
and Charleston railroad east of Corinth.

Some days before I had suggested to the commanding general that I
thought if he would move the Army of the Mississippi at night, by the rear
of the centre and right, ready to advance at daylight, Pope would find no
natural obstacle in his front and, I believed, no serious artificial one. The
ground, or works, occupied by our left could be held by a thin picket line,
owing to the stream and swamp in front. To the right the troops would have
a dry ridge to march over. I was silenced so quickly that I felt that possibly I
had suggested an unmilitary movement.
Later, probably on the 28th of May, General Logan, whose command was
then on the Mobile and Ohio railroad, said to me that the enemy had been
evacuating for several days and that if allowed he could go into Corinth
with his brigade. Trains of cars were heard coming in and going out of
Corinth constantly. Some of the men who had been engaged in various
capacities on railroads before the war claimed that they could tell, by
putting their ears to the rail, not only which way the trains were moving but
which trains were loaded and which were empty. They said loaded trains
had been going out for several days and empty ones coming in. Subsequent
events proved the correctness of their judgment. Beauregard published his
orders for the evacuation of Corinth on the 26th of May and fixed the 29th
for the departure of his troops, and on the 30th of May General Halleck had
his whole army drawn up prepared for battle and announced in orders that
there was every indication that our left was to be attacked that morning.
Corinth had already been evacuated and the National troops marched on
and took possession without opposition. Everything had been destroyed or
carried away. The Confederate commander had instructed his soldiers to
cheer on the arrival of every train to create the impression among the
Yankees that reinforcements were arriving. There was not a sick or
wounded man left by the Confederates, nor stores of any kind. Some
ammunition had been blown up—not removed—but the trophies of war
were a few Quaker guns, logs of about the diameter of ordinary cannon,
mounted on wheels of wagons and pointed in the most threatening manner
towards us.
The possession of Corinth by the National troops was of strategic
importance, but the victory was barren in every other particular. It was
nearly bloodless. It is a question whether the MORALE of the Confederate
troops engaged at Corinth was not improved by the immunity with which
they were permitted to remove all public property and then withdraw

themselves. On our side I know officers and men of the Army of the
Tennessee—and I presume the same is true of those of the other commands
—were disappointed at the result. They could not see how the mere
occupation of places was to close the war while large and effective rebel
armies existed. They believed that a well-directed attack would at least have
partially destroyed the army defending Corinth. For myself I am satisfied
that Corinth could have been captured in a two days' campaign commenced
promptly on the arrival of reinforcements after the battle of Shiloh.
General Halleck at once commenced erecting fortifications around
Corinth on a scale to indicate that this one point must be held if it took the
whole National army to do it. All commanding points two or three miles to
the south, south-east and south-west were strongly fortified. It was expected
in case of necessity to connect these forts by rifle-pits. They were laid out
on a scale that would have required 100,000 men to fully man them. It was
probably thought that a final battle of the war would be fought at that point.
These fortifications were never used. Immediately after the occupation of
Corinth by the National troops, General Pope was sent in pursuit of the
retreating garrison and General Buell soon followed. Buell was the senior
of the two generals and commanded the entire column. The pursuit was
kept up for some thirty miles, but did not result in the capture of any
material of war or prisoners, unless a few stragglers who had fallen behind
and were willing captives. On the 10th of June the pursuing column was all
back at Corinth. The Army of the Tennessee was not engaged in any of
these movements.
The Confederates were now driven out of West Tennessee, and on the 6th
of June, after a well-contested naval battle, the National forces took
possession of Memphis and held the Mississippi river from its source to that
point. The railroad from Columbus to Corinth was at once put in good
condition and held by us. We had garrisons at Donelson, Clarksville and
Nashville, on the Cumberland River, and held the Tennessee River from its
mouth to Eastport. New Orleans and Baton Rouge had fallen into the
possession of the National forces, so that now the Confederates at the west
were narrowed down for all communication with Richmond to the single
line of road running east from Vicksburg. To dispossess them of this,
therefore, became a matter of the first importance. The possession of the
Mississippi by us from Memphis to Baton Rouge was also a most important

object. It would be equal to the amputation of a limb in its weakening
effects upon the enemy.
After the capture of Corinth a movable force of 80,000 men, besides
enough to hold all the territory acquired, could have been set in motion for
the accomplishment of any great campaign for the suppression of the
rebellion. In addition to this fresh troops were being raised to swell the
effective force. But the work of depletion commenced. Buell with the Army
of the Ohio was sent east, following the line of the Memphis and Charleston
railroad. This he was ordered to repair as he advanced—only to have it
destroyed by small guerilla bands or other troops as soon as he was out of
the way. If he had been sent directly to Chattanooga as rapidly as he could
march, leaving two or three divisions along the line of the railroad from
Nashville forward, he could have arrived with but little fighting, and would
have saved much of the loss of life which was afterwards incurred in
gaining Chattanooga. Bragg would then not have had time to raise an army
to contest the possession of middle and east Tennessee and Kentucky; the
battles of Stone River and Chickamauga would not necessarily have been
fought; Burnside would not have been besieged in Knoxville without the
power of helping himself or escaping; the battle of Chattanooga would not
have been fought. These are the negative advantages, if the term negative is
applicable, which would probably have resulted from prompt movements
after Corinth fell into the possession of the National forces. The positive
results might have been: a bloodless advance to Atlanta, to Vicksburg, or to
any other desired point south of Corinth in the interior of Mississippi.

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.

My position at Corinth, with a nominal command and yet no command,
became so unbearable that I asked permission of Halleck to remove my
headquarters to Memphis. I had repeatedly asked, between the fall of
Donelson and the evacuation of Corinth, to be relieved from duty under
Halleck; but all my applications were refused until the occupation of the
town. I then obtained permission to leave the department, but General
Sherman happened to call on me as I was about starting and urged me so
strongly not to think of going, that I concluded to remain. My application to
be permitted to remove my headquarters to Memphis was, however,
approved, and on the 21st of June I started for that point with my staff and a
cavalry escort of only a part of one company. There was a detachment of
two or three companies going some twenty-five miles west to be stationed
as a guard to the railroad. I went under cover of this escort to the end of
their march, and the next morning proceeded to La Grange with no convoy
but the few cavalry men I had with me.
From La Grange to Memphis the distance is forty-seven miles. There
were no troops stationed between these two points, except a small force
guarding a working party which was engaged in repairing the railroad. Not
knowing where this party would be found I halted at La Grange. General
Hurlbut was in command there at the time and had his headquarters tents
pitched on the lawn of a very commodious country house. The proprietor
was at home and, learning of my arrival, he invited General Hurlbut and me
to dine with him. I accepted the invitation and spent a very pleasant

afternoon with my host, who was a thorough Southern gentleman fully
convinced of the justice of secession. After dinner, seated in the capacious
porch, he entertained me with a recital of the services he was rendering the
cause. He was too old to be in the ranks himself—he must have been quite
seventy then—but his means enabled him to be useful in other ways. In
ordinary times the homestead where he was now living produced the bread
and meat to supply the slaves on his main plantation, in the low-lands of
Mississippi. Now he raised food and forage on both places, and thought he
would have that year a surplus sufficient to feed three hundred families of
poor men who had gone into the war and left their families dependent upon
the "patriotism" of those better off. The crops around me looked fine, and I
had at the moment an idea that about the time they were ready to be
gathered the "Yankee" troops would be in the neighborhood and harvest
them for the benefit of those engaged in the suppression of the rebellion
instead of its support. I felt, however, the greatest respect for the candor of
my host and for his zeal in a cause he thoroughly believed in, though our
views were as wide apart as it is possible to conceive.
The 23d of June, 1862, on the road from La Grange to Memphis was
very warm, even for that latitude and season. With my staff and small escort
I started at an early hour, and before noon we arrived within twenty miles of
Memphis. At this point I saw a very comfortable-looking white-haired
gentleman seated at the front of his house, a little distance from the road. I
let my staff and escort ride ahead while I halted and, for an excuse, asked
for a glass of water. I was invited at once to dismount and come in. I found
my host very genial and communicative, and staid longer than I had
intended, until the lady of the house announced dinner and asked me to join
them. The host, however, was not pressing, so that I declined the invitation
and, mounting my horse, rode on.
About a mile west from where I had been stopping a road comes up from
the southeast, joining that from La Grange to Memphis. A mile west of this
junction I found my staff and escort halted and enjoying the shade of forest
trees on the lawn of a house located several hundred feet back from the
road, their horses hitched to the fence along the line of the road. I, too,
stopped and we remained there until the cool of the afternoon, and then
rode into Memphis.

The gentleman with whom I had stopped twenty miles from Memphis
was a Mr. De Loche, a man loyal to the Union. He had not pressed me to
tarry longer with him because in the early part of my visit a neighbor, a Dr.
Smith, had called and, on being presented to me, backed off the porch as if
something had hit him. Mr. De Loche knew that the rebel General Jackson
was in that neighborhood with a detachment of cavalry. His neighbor was as
earnest in the southern cause as was Mr. De Loche in that of the Union. The
exact location of Jackson was entirely unknown to Mr. De Loche; but he
was sure that his neighbor would know it and would give information of my
presence, and this made my stay unpleasant to him after the call of Dr.
Smith.
I have stated that a detachment of troops was engaged in guarding
workmen who were repairing the railroad east of Memphis. On the day I
entered Memphis, Jackson captured a small herd of beef cattle which had
been sent east for the troops so engaged. The drovers were not enlisted men
and he released them. A day or two after one of these drovers came to my
headquarters and, relating the circumstances of his capture, said Jackson
was very much disappointed that he had not captured me; that he was six or
seven miles south of the Memphis and Charleston railroad when he learned
that I was stopping at the house of Mr. De Loche, and had ridden with his
command to the junction of the road he was on with that from La Grange
and Memphis, where he learned that I had passed three-quarters of an hour
before. He thought it would be useless to pursue with jaded horses a well-
mounted party with so much of a start. Had he gone three-quarters of a mile
farther he would have found me with my party quietly resting under the
shade of trees and without even arms in our hands with which to defend
ourselves.
General Jackson of course did not communicate his disappointment at
not capturing me to a prisoner, a young drover; but from the talk among the
soldiers the facts related were learned. A day or two later Mr. De Loche
called on me in Memphis to apologize for his apparent incivility in not
insisting on my staying for dinner. He said that his wife accused him of
marked discourtesy, but that, after the call of his neighbor, he had felt
restless until I got away. I never met General Jackson before the war, nor
during it, but have met him since at his very comfortable summer home at
Manitou Springs, Colorado. I reminded him of the above incident, and this

drew from him the response that he was thankful now he had not captured
me. I certainly was very thankful too.
My occupation of Memphis as district headquarters did not last long. The
period, however, was marked by a few incidents which were novel to me.
Up to that time I had not occupied any place in the South where the citizens
were at home in any great numbers. Dover was within the fortifications at
Fort Donelson, and, as far as I remember, every citizen was gone. There
were no people living at Pittsburg landing, and but very few at Corinth.
Memphis, however, was a populous city, and there were many of the
citizens remaining there who were not only thoroughly impressed with the
justice of their cause, but who thought that even the "Yankee soldiery" must
entertain the same views if they could only be induced to make an honest
confession. It took hours of my time every day to listen to complaints and
requests. The latter were generally reasonable, and if so they were granted;
but the complaints were not always, or even often, well founded. Two
instances will mark the general character. First: the officer who commanded
at Memphis immediately after the city fell into the hands of the National
troops had ordered one of the churches of the city to be opened to the
soldiers. Army chaplains were authorized to occupy the pulpit. Second: at
the beginning of the war the Confederate Congress had passed a law
confiscating all property of "alien enemies" at the South, including the debts
of Southerners to Northern men. In consequence of this law, when Memphis
was occupied the provost-marshal had forcibly collected all the evidences
he could obtain of such debts.
Almost the first complaints made to me were these two outrages. The
gentleman who made the complaints informed me first of his own high
standing as a lawyer, a citizen and a Christian. He was a deacon in the
church which had been defiled by the occupation of Union troops, and by a
Union chaplain filling the pulpit. He did not use the word "defile," but he
expressed the idea very clearly. He asked that the church be restored to the
former congregation. I told him that no order had been issued prohibiting
the congregation attending the church. He said of course the congregation
could not hear a Northern clergyman who differed so radically with them on
questions of government. I told him the troops would continue to occupy
that church for the present, and that they would not be called upon to hear
disloyal sentiments proclaimed from the pulpit. This closed the argument on
the first point.