At Camp Wood on the 1st day of September, was mustered into the U. S. service, together with nine other companies, forming the 78th Ill. Vol. Inf. (In casting lots for position in line my company drew the letter "H" which placed us on the left of the colors, and Company "C" on the right.) On the 19th day of September we were put on coal cars with boards laid across for seats, no cover over our heads; on arrival at destination were put on provost duty for a few days, until Gen. Buell was equipped for his campaign against Gen. Bragg. October 5th my regiment was marched to Shepardsville, Ky., and on the 14th was divided into detachments under Gen. Gilbert to guard railroad bridges on the Louisville and Nashville railroad. December 26th the guerrilla John Morgan, captured Companies B and C at Muldrose Hill, two and one-half miles from Elizabethtown, Ky., and they were paroled. On the same raid on the morning of Dec. 30th, Morgan attacked Co. H at New Haven, Ky., and was driven away without accomplishing his purpose. About the last of January, 1863, the companies were collected at Louisville and embarked on the steamer "John H. Grosbeck" for Nashville via the Ohio and Cumberland rivers, arriving at Fort Donelson February 3, 1863, in time to relieve the 83rd Ill., which was surrounded by a superior force of Forest's and Wheeler's cavalry. The enemy retired on our approach and we passed on to Nashville, Tenn., where the regiment disembarked. The regiment was in the command of Brigadier Gen. C. C. Gilbert of the Army of Kentucky, under Major General Gordon Granger, reserve corps commander.
During our stay in Kentucky there were many social features with the citizens that made our stay among them quite pleasant, one of which is worthy of mention. As a few of us wished to avail ourselves of an opportunity to attend a dance to be given by a planter by the name of Sphink, who sent in to our lines an invitation for about a half a dozen to come out on a certain night. Of course we were crazy to go, but how were we to get outside the lines. We decided to ask the officers for a pass, but this failed. Our officers claimed this was a plan made up to get a lot of us out there and take us prisoners, as a lot of Morgan's men were in that vicinity at that time, and we decided it was all off. But as the time came near for the event and there was less news of the Rebel General Morgan's near proximity to us, a few of us Yanks' heels began to tickle for a dance and a desire to have a chance at the roast turkey that was promised for the occasion. So we made up our minds that we would take our chances on getting by the pickets. In the mean time there came a big snow storm, the heaviest, the natives said, that had ever been known in Kentucky. It covered the earth to a depth of a little more than two feet. The night for the party arrived, and not Johnnies, snow, pickets, nor anything else would have stopped that gang. During the day we located the guards on picket duty, quite a ways from the main road, and planned to go as close to them as possible without attracting their attention, then to drop on our hands and knees and crawl through the snow to a safe distance on the outside, which we did, and arrived safely at Mr. Sphink's. We had taken the precaution to take our side arms with us, for we had seen service enough to be always on the alert and trust nobody or allow them to get the drop on us.
When we went into the house almost the first persons we met were men wearing the gray uniform, and the host introduced them to us as Confederate soldiers home on furlough. At first we were just a bit disconcerted until our host assured us that all was on the square, that we need not fear any trouble, as they were home boys and had heard of our coming and for us to pitch in and have as good a time as we could, and we sure did have a fine time, a royal supper, and not a word was spoken to mar the peace and comfort of anyone. When we left for camp we shook hands with the Confeds the same as any one else and bid them goodbye. It was some time before the officers found out about our going out, in fact not until we had left Kentucky, consequently we were not disciplined for having the good time, and leaving the camp without permission.
February 12th the regiment marched to Franklin, Tenn., where it remained four months. We were diligent in company, battalion and brigade drill, the first good opportunity we had since enlistment. On April 11th we were threatened by a heavy force of Van Dorn and Wheeler cavalry, but no engagement except skirmishing with pickets and outposts, and on June 4th the enemy made a similar attack on our outposts with like result.
On June 9th a very unhappy affair occurred--two Confederate spies entered camp disguised as federal officers, claiming to be federal paymasters on their way from Murfreesboro via Franklin to Nashville, but when they were detected they acknowledged being Confederate officers, but denied being spies. A court martial was immediately organized, and they were tried and condemned to death by hanging. They requested to be shot instead, but their request was not granted and they were hung June 10. They gave their names as Col. Orton and Lieut. Peters. Col. Orton had been an officer in the Union army before the war. The 78th constructed the gallows and furnished the guard.
On June 23rd marched to Trinne and Murfreesboro, Tenn. The army had now been reorganized and the 78th was assigned to the brigade of Col. John G. Mitchell in General James B. Stedman's division reserve corps, under Major General Gordon Granger. We were glad to exchange Gen. Gilbert for Col. Mitchell, who ably commanded the brigade from that time, with the exception of a few months, to the close of the war.
On June 28th moved south from Murfreesboro in the rear of the general advance against Bragg's army. The brigade entered Shelbyville, Tenn., July 1st., and camped. While at this place Col. Benison, the first colonel mustered with the regiment, resigned and Col. Carter Van Vleck, then lieutenant colonel, was promoted to colonel of the regiment, a change that pleased not only the line officers but the men as well. Sept. 6th, 1863, the regiment moved southward, crossed the Tennessee river, Sept. 12, pursued its march around Lookout Mountain, and arrived at Rossville, Ga., on Sept. 14, 1863, and for a few days previous to the battle of Chickamauga was kept on the move day and night, marching, skirmishing, trying to locate the weak and strong points of the enemy, all signs of an approaching engagement being visible.
On the 17th of September the division made a reconnaissance to Ringold, Ga., and there discovered that Longstreet's corps from Lee's army was reinforcing Bragg. The command was followed closely on its return from Ringold and at midnight the enemy opened upon us with artillery, with no damage except the briars we incorporated in our feet while getting into our clothes and into line of battle. Unfortunately we had camped where there were some rail fences which we burned to cook our suppers, and the fence rows were full of blackberry briars. (My, but I can feel those briars yet.) We stood to arms until morning. During the commencement of the battle of Chickamauga, the regiment with the division before Rossville guarding the road through the gap to Chattanooga. Before noon on the 20th of September, General Granger, apprehending that Gen. Thomas needed assistance, double quicked two brigades of our division to Gen. Thomas' front, which proved a timely assistance to Gen. Thomas, as Longstreet was getting around the Federal right and rear. The two brigades (Mitchell's and Whitaker's) were put into action at once, made a charge on Longstreet and drove him from the west and south bends of Snodgrass ridge with great loss to both sides. A monument erected to the 78th on the west end of Snodgrass ridge, bears a tablet describing the terrible carnage in the fearful charge. Thirty-seven per cent of the command gave themselves as a sacrifice for Old Glory in just a few moments. The adjutant general's report gives the per cent as forty in this awful charge. The Rebels made three distinct efforts to retake the positions, but each time were repulsed with heavy loss. In one attempt to take a battery they were so near that muskets were clubbed and men beaten over the head in order to prevent the loss of the six-gun battery. We held the position until after dark, when we were ordered off the field.
On the march from left to right, I ran across a Rebel who was shot through the bowels. He was just across the fence, and I did not see him, until he called and said, "Hello, Yank. Have you any water?" I said, "Yes, what's the matter with you Johnny?" His answer was, "I am wounded and waiting to die." I went to him, raked the leaves away from him (for the whole battlefield was ablaze), emptied part of the water from my canteen into his, and Dr. Githens gave him a dose of morphine to relieve his suffering, and left him to die, for he was wounded through the bowels. This occurred at the north end of Snodgrass Ridge, just north of the Snodgrass house. As we started to leave him we started east. We could hear voices just ahead of us, but the smoke from fire arms, cannon and burning leaves was so dense we could not see far. But the wounded soldier I had just befriended called and said, "Hold on, Yank, don't go that way, Johnnies are thicker than hell just beyond those bushes." I asked him if he heard troops pass before I came and he said they did but they turned south down the west side of the ridge. We had gotten behind, ministering to a Michigan soldier who was wounded in the same manner the Johnny was. I have mentioned this circumstance to show the feeling among soldiers when one is put out of action. I favored the Confederate and he in turn saved me from walking into the Confederate lines, which I would have done. I went down the ridge and came up with my command in time to go into the charge on the west end of the ridge, which we took and a monument marks the place where we were halted on top of the ridge.
I spent the night with wounded comrades, ministering to them as best I could to relieve their sufferings. During the afternoon of the last day's fight, I stepped on Doctor Githens' spur and tore my shoe in such a manner as to permit small gravel to work between the sole of my shoe and foot; after the excitement of battle was over and wounded comrades cared for, I realized I had a very sore foot.
I wish here to relate a very peculiar incident which occurred to Dr. Githens and my horses. When we started into the fight on the afternoon of the 20th, we dismounted and turned the horses, with all of our effects, except the medicine case and surgeon's case of instruments, to the care of a negro boy we called Jack, and instructed him to keep in the rear so as to avoid getting lost or being captured by the Rebels; when night came Jack could not be found, nor did he show up during the night; morning came and no Jack, horses, blankets or provisions. I hunted over all that part of the army but no Jack of the proper dimensions or environments could be found, so the Doctor and I gave up all hope of finding the outfit. But to add to the Doctor's discomfort, he had at noon received orders to report to division headquarters to take charge of an ambulance train of wounded men, over the mountains, to Bridgeport. We had exhausted every means we could conceive of, but no Jack, no horses or anything else could be found, and Dr. Githens started to take charge of the train without horse or anything that might minister to his personal comfort, not even so much as a blanket or cracker. As I turned to leave him, to my great astonishment Jack and the horses loomed in front of me. I turned and called Dr. Githens, and then said to Jack, "For heaven's sake, Jack, where did you come from?" "Massa Ed, fo de Lod, I done can't tell you. Wh's you alls been. I done hunt all over dis heah whole country, been in with the Johnnies." I said, "Why did they not take the horses from you?" "Don't know, Sah, dwey done pay no tenshun to me and I just kep on going until heah I is." And I said, "Just in time, too, for the Doctor wants his horse." I have often wished I knew what became of that coon, for he was a dandy.
