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John Beatty, The Citizen-Soldier; or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, September, 1863. (search)
ut verbal, he declined to move, and I therefore continued my march and bivouacked at the springs. About midnight I was ordered to proceed to a ford of the Chickamauga and relieve a brigade of Palmer's division, commanded by Colonel Grose. The night was dark and the road crooked. About two in the morning I reached the place; and as Colonel Grose's pickets were being relieved and mine substituted, occasional shots along the line indicated that the enemy was in our immediate front. Chickamauga. September, 19 At an early hour in the morning the enemy's pickets made their appearance on the east side of the Chickamauga and engaged my skirmishers. Some hours later he opened on us with two batteries, and a sharp artillery fight ensued. During this engagement, the Fifteenth Kentucky, Colonel Taylor, occupied an advanced position in the woods on the low ground, and the shots of the artillery passed immediately over it. I rode down to this regiment to see that the men were not
John Beatty, The Citizen-Soldier; or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, October, 1863. (search)
ops dot the hillsides. To-night we see their signal lights off to the right on the summit of Lookout mountain, and off to the left on the knobs of Mission ridge. Their long lines of camp fires almost encompass us. But the camp fires of the Army of the Cumberland are burning also. Bruised and torn by a two days unequal contest, its flags are still up, and its men still unwhipped. It has taken its position here, and here, by God's help, it will remain. Colonel Hobart was captured at Chickamauga, and a fear is entertained that he may have been wounded. October, 4 This is a pleasant October morning, rather windy and cool, but not at all uncomfortable. The bands are mingling with the autumn breezes such martial airs as are common in camps, with now and then a sentimental strain, which awakens recollections of other days, when we were younger-thought more of sweethearts than of war, when, in fact, we did not think of war at all except as something of the past. Sitting at
John Beatty, The Citizen-Soldier; or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, November, 1863. (search)
practical, everyday sense is the trump, after all, and the only thing one can securely rely upon for permanent success in any line, either civil or military. This element evidently dominated in this battle. The struggle along Mission Ridge seemed more like a series of independent battles than one grand conflict. There were few times during the day when the engagement appeared to be heavy and continuous along the whole line. There certainly was not an extended and unceasing roll, as at Chickamauga and Stone river, but rather a succession of heavy blows. Now it would thunder furiously on the extreme right; then the left would take up the sledge, and finally the center would begin to pound; and so the National giant appeared to skip from point to point along the ridge, striking rapid and thundering blows here and there, as if seeking the weak place in his antagonist's armor. The enemy, thoroughly bewildered, finally became most fearful of Sherman, who was raising a perfect pandemon
John Beatty, The Citizen-Soldier; or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, December, 1863. (search)
ral Jeff. C. Davis, Chattanooga. Dear General-In our recent short but most useful campaign it was my good fortune to have attached to me the corps of General Howard, and the division commanded by yourself. I now desire to thank you personally and officially for the handsome manner in which you and your command have borne themselves throughout. You led in the pursuit of Bragg's army on the route designated for my command, and I admired the skill with which you handled the division at Chickamauga, and more especially in the short and sharp encounter, at night-fall, near Graysville. When General Grant called on us, unexpectedly and without due preparation, to march to Knoxville for the relief of General Burnside, you and your officers devoted yourselves to the work like soldiers and patriots, marching through cold and mud without a murmur, trusting to accidents for shelter and subsistence. During the whole march, whenever I encountered your command, I found all the officers