The following letter from the army was received by Rev. A. C. Price sometime last week, from a cousin who is in Gen Rosecrans’ army. It speaks for itself:
Murfreesboro, Tenn., Feb 19, 1863
It appears that you and I are doomed to continual disappointment in our correspondence. I received yours of Aug. 15th, 1862 by the road-side just out of Nashville, when we were on our way north in pursuit of Bragg, to assist him in the prosecution of his favorite scheme of “invading the north,” or “carrying the war into Africa.” They lost their goal, and I lost your address – your letter not reaching me for 2 months after date, and then it was two months longer before I had an opportunity of writing, having left our knapsacks, cooking utensils, camp equipage and everything but blankets, haversacks, and canteens, with the train. We marched through to Louisville and encamped, or bivouaced [sic] on the Island next to the Falls, and were as much secluded as though we had been in a wilderness. After resting a few days, we started again in pursuit of the enemy, whose pickets we came upon a few miles from the city, and a series of skirmishing again commenced, which was kept up between our advance and their rear, through from Nashville to Elizabethtown, where the enemy flew the track, and we having been almost without provisions, except green corn, and what we could pick up along the road, (and having but little time or chance for that) went through to Louisville to satisfy the cravings of hunger, and exchange our rags for clothing. The skirmishing was kept up through Bardstown, and on through to the mountainous part of the State, in the south east corner, within a few miles of Cumberland Gap. Almost every day, numbers of prisoners were taken, paroled, and sent back. The only brush of any note that we had with them, was at Perryville, the results of which you are well acquainted. Our Brigade was sent from Wild Cat Mountain across to Cross Roads, (the junction of a mountain ridge road, with the old Cumberland Gap road,) where we came upon a force left by Kirby Smith to guard that point, and took their outposts without firing a shot, drove in their pickets, and routed them before they had time to reform in line of battle; took a number of prisoners, and several hundred beef cattle, &c. From here, we went through to the Virginia line, and destroyed 5 salt manufactories, with 23,000 bushels of salt. While in the mountains, snow fell ten inches deep, and many of the soldiers marched though it without shoes. I was taken very sick one night with the cholera morbus, and left with the alternative of lying in the mountains without medical, or other assistance; or making my way eleven miles to the convalescent camp on Rock Castle River. I chose the latter, and made the camp, but I and another poor fellow of our company laid out without blankets the night before in the snow storm. But enough of this. We returned to Nashville via Mt. Vernon, Columbia, Glasgow, and Gallatin, after a march of [650] miles, made doubly long by the precautions necessary in the presence of the enemy. Our regimental train came up to us at Columbia, on the 1st of Nov., two months after leaving us at Murfreesboro. During this time we had had no change of clothes, (except those that drew ones at Louisville) and but few chances to wash them. I suppose you would think it rather a novel modus operandi to see us take off our clothes, wash them in a stream, and if we had time , thank them on a bush and wait for them to dry; if not put them on and let them dry on us as we marched along. When our train did come up and was unloaded, it was a sorry looking sight. Our baggage was the picture of what had fallen among thieves. Instead of the well filled knapsacks left behind, there was a pile of trash, and twelve knapsacks would have held the baggage of the regiment. I took my stand on a box and watched them as they were overhauled by the officers, and one after another recognized the sorry looking remains of what he had left behind, until they were all gone, but nothing was left for me to tell that I had ever belonged to the 2nd Kentucky Regt., and in disgust I turned away. Clothes, books, papers, letters and diary (from Jan. 1st to Sept. 1st) were all gone. But there was “no time to cry for spilt milk.” The next day, we again took up the line of march, and at Glasgow we pitched our tents for the first time since starting in pursuit of the fugitives at Corinth the 1st of June. Soon after Gen. Resecrans superceded [sic] Buell, he organized a Pioneer and Engineer corps from the army of the Cumberland, by selecting two privates from each company, and a corporal, sergeant, and one commissioned officer from each regiment. The detachment from each Brigade forming a company, the whole under command of Capt StClair Morton of the regular army, and formerly of McClellan’s Engineer corps, a man of true grit. I had the good fortune to be the sergeant selected from our regiment. Soon after our organization, we were mustered at Nashville, and a battalion sent to Gallatin to build a fort to protect the depot and other property there, that being one of John Morgan’s places of rendezvous. It was while building it that the shameful surrender of Hartsville took place, early one cold Sunday morning. We heard the fighting. About 2,000 men were employed night and day for two weeks in building it; and a few days after we left, Morgan made a dash on it and got beautifully cleaned out, loosing a number of men. We returned to Nashville and encamped two and a half miles south of the city on the Franklin pike, in one of the finest districts of country I ever saw. The country is naturally beautiful, and it here presents a series of grassy knolls, rising above the rich table land, embellished with that admirable feature of southern landscape, “splendid groves,” and often crowned with the most magnificent mansions I ever saw. On one of these knolls stands the stately residence of the late rebel Gen. Zollicoffer, but not much like it was last spring when we passed here on our way to Shiloh. The red flag floats in front of it and many a sick “Yankee” lingers in pain in its spacious halls. The exquisitely wrought fence and splendid grove has disappeared before “free labor.” In fact, almost everything in this section has changed since last spring. Ft. Negby is built on one of the heights near the city, and commands every avenue from the south. Groves, buildings, &c., which might afford shelter for an approaching enemy, have been leveled with the ground.
We pulled up the stakes here and started for Murfreesboro on the 26th of Dec. Our progress was slow, the advance fighting all the way, the road was strewn with dead horses in many places. Came upon the enemy’s works at Stone River before daylight, Dec. 30th. Cannonading and skirmishing along the line all day. The Pioneers were set to work cutting roads through dense cedar forests, to get ambulances, artillery, &c., through, but the joke was, the rebels drove us out of these early the next day and kept them during the fight. That evening we went to the rear, slept in our tents and were out early next morning to go to work bridging Stone river, but the ball opened in earnest on the right wing – were soon in line with the tents struck – baggage and camp equipage in the wagons, and on our way to the scene of action. The storm of battle kept growing fiercer and nearer, and soon crowds of cowardly dogs and stragglers were seen breaking to the rear. Before we got into line and our battery planted on one side of a field the enemy were coming in at the other close on the heals of our flying skirmishers. We laid low until our men got out of the way – raised up and a sheet of fire and lead flashed along the whole line, followed by several quick volleys, and then a charge which sent them back across the fields faster than they came. Many (besides prisoners) never got back. We took a position on a raise about the middle of the field and kept it. They crossed again to our right and got away to our rear. We wheeled around, gave them a thrust in the flank, and they went howling back to their jungle. New Year’s eve was very cold, but we had to lay in line of battle in front, without food, fire, or blankets. At one o’clock, our company were sent out on picket. I almost froze. New Year’s morning dawned clear and cold. Soon old Sol showed his fiery disk above the horizon red as blood, as if angrily contemplating our bloody scenes. All was still as the grave, until Gen. Rosecrans rode out toward a point of timber in front of our lines, when “Fire, fire, G-d D—m you, every one of you, fire.” was heard in the angry tones of Southern chivalry, followed by a volley which whistled around and past the general and his escort and over us. Our battery (the Chi. Board of Trade Battery) opened out, and with the fire from our Brigade, soon cleaned them out. We held our position all day, although annoyed continually by their sharp shooters, whose balls spattered around us in the mud, and whistled over us, wounded several, but killing none. We had to lie flat on the ground all day. We were relieved at 10 P.M. – went to the rear, slept by a fire, but were disturbed next morning while at breakfast by solid shot plunging and blowing up the ground in our midst. We got to our arms, (which were stacked close in mass,) without much delay. One shot passed my face, the force of which stunned me slightly, and took off the head of Sergt. Burke on my left, who had leaned forward in the act of stepping, just an instant before me. The next cut the man in two, who belonged behind me. We soon got up to the front, expecting a grand charge but it did not come till late in the afternoon and away to our left; then they got enough of it, and would have got more if we had had a little more day-light. I tell you our (Chi Board of Trade) battery is a splendid one. -- You ought to see them firing on a charge, running one gun ahead of another. During the hottest of the fight, Gen. Rosecrans rode out in front of the farthest gun, and cheered the gunners at their hard and dangerous toil. Thomas Kimble (Major 87th Ind.) had his horse shot under him. I got a ball though my haversack. We are making Murfreesboro a very strong place. The cars are running regularly. What do you think of northern traitors? I think the President’s proclamation will work like a charm, and it promises permanent peace. My health is good. We are working almost every day on fortifications, and are having a rainy time of it. – You have no idea of how much mud an army can make. It is beginning to look like spring here. The buds are swollen. The sun shines warm, (when it does shine,) and the birds sing as merrily as if there was no war. How I would like to see peace and enjoy civil life again. But I do not want it at the sacrifice of principle. My comrades are all asleep around me. The town clock is striking 11 and the sentinel is pacing his lonely beat, in the drenching rain, just back of my tent.
Your’s Truly,
Jacob W. Price
– Published in the Stark County News, Toulon, Illinois, March 26, 1863
Murfreesboro, Tenn., Feb 19, 1863
It appears that you and I are doomed to continual disappointment in our correspondence. I received yours of Aug. 15th, 1862 by the road-side just out of Nashville, when we were on our way north in pursuit of Bragg, to assist him in the prosecution of his favorite scheme of “invading the north,” or “carrying the war into Africa.” They lost their goal, and I lost your address – your letter not reaching me for 2 months after date, and then it was two months longer before I had an opportunity of writing, having left our knapsacks, cooking utensils, camp equipage and everything but blankets, haversacks, and canteens, with the train. We marched through to Louisville and encamped, or bivouaced [sic] on the Island next to the Falls, and were as much secluded as though we had been in a wilderness. After resting a few days, we started again in pursuit of the enemy, whose pickets we came upon a few miles from the city, and a series of skirmishing again commenced, which was kept up between our advance and their rear, through from Nashville to Elizabethtown, where the enemy flew the track, and we having been almost without provisions, except green corn, and what we could pick up along the road, (and having but little time or chance for that) went through to Louisville to satisfy the cravings of hunger, and exchange our rags for clothing. The skirmishing was kept up through Bardstown, and on through to the mountainous part of the State, in the south east corner, within a few miles of Cumberland Gap. Almost every day, numbers of prisoners were taken, paroled, and sent back. The only brush of any note that we had with them, was at Perryville, the results of which you are well acquainted. Our Brigade was sent from Wild Cat Mountain across to Cross Roads, (the junction of a mountain ridge road, with the old Cumberland Gap road,) where we came upon a force left by Kirby Smith to guard that point, and took their outposts without firing a shot, drove in their pickets, and routed them before they had time to reform in line of battle; took a number of prisoners, and several hundred beef cattle, &c. From here, we went through to the Virginia line, and destroyed 5 salt manufactories, with 23,000 bushels of salt. While in the mountains, snow fell ten inches deep, and many of the soldiers marched though it without shoes. I was taken very sick one night with the cholera morbus, and left with the alternative of lying in the mountains without medical, or other assistance; or making my way eleven miles to the convalescent camp on Rock Castle River. I chose the latter, and made the camp, but I and another poor fellow of our company laid out without blankets the night before in the snow storm. But enough of this. We returned to Nashville via Mt. Vernon, Columbia, Glasgow, and Gallatin, after a march of [650] miles, made doubly long by the precautions necessary in the presence of the enemy. Our regimental train came up to us at Columbia, on the 1st of Nov., two months after leaving us at Murfreesboro. During this time we had had no change of clothes, (except those that drew ones at Louisville) and but few chances to wash them. I suppose you would think it rather a novel modus operandi to see us take off our clothes, wash them in a stream, and if we had time , thank them on a bush and wait for them to dry; if not put them on and let them dry on us as we marched along. When our train did come up and was unloaded, it was a sorry looking sight. Our baggage was the picture of what had fallen among thieves. Instead of the well filled knapsacks left behind, there was a pile of trash, and twelve knapsacks would have held the baggage of the regiment. I took my stand on a box and watched them as they were overhauled by the officers, and one after another recognized the sorry looking remains of what he had left behind, until they were all gone, but nothing was left for me to tell that I had ever belonged to the 2nd Kentucky Regt., and in disgust I turned away. Clothes, books, papers, letters and diary (from Jan. 1st to Sept. 1st) were all gone. But there was “no time to cry for spilt milk.” The next day, we again took up the line of march, and at Glasgow we pitched our tents for the first time since starting in pursuit of the fugitives at Corinth the 1st of June. Soon after Gen. Resecrans superceded [sic] Buell, he organized a Pioneer and Engineer corps from the army of the Cumberland, by selecting two privates from each company, and a corporal, sergeant, and one commissioned officer from each regiment. The detachment from each Brigade forming a company, the whole under command of Capt StClair Morton of the regular army, and formerly of McClellan’s Engineer corps, a man of true grit. I had the good fortune to be the sergeant selected from our regiment. Soon after our organization, we were mustered at Nashville, and a battalion sent to Gallatin to build a fort to protect the depot and other property there, that being one of John Morgan’s places of rendezvous. It was while building it that the shameful surrender of Hartsville took place, early one cold Sunday morning. We heard the fighting. About 2,000 men were employed night and day for two weeks in building it; and a few days after we left, Morgan made a dash on it and got beautifully cleaned out, loosing a number of men. We returned to Nashville and encamped two and a half miles south of the city on the Franklin pike, in one of the finest districts of country I ever saw. The country is naturally beautiful, and it here presents a series of grassy knolls, rising above the rich table land, embellished with that admirable feature of southern landscape, “splendid groves,” and often crowned with the most magnificent mansions I ever saw. On one of these knolls stands the stately residence of the late rebel Gen. Zollicoffer, but not much like it was last spring when we passed here on our way to Shiloh. The red flag floats in front of it and many a sick “Yankee” lingers in pain in its spacious halls. The exquisitely wrought fence and splendid grove has disappeared before “free labor.” In fact, almost everything in this section has changed since last spring. Ft. Negby is built on one of the heights near the city, and commands every avenue from the south. Groves, buildings, &c., which might afford shelter for an approaching enemy, have been leveled with the ground.
We pulled up the stakes here and started for Murfreesboro on the 26th of Dec. Our progress was slow, the advance fighting all the way, the road was strewn with dead horses in many places. Came upon the enemy’s works at Stone River before daylight, Dec. 30th. Cannonading and skirmishing along the line all day. The Pioneers were set to work cutting roads through dense cedar forests, to get ambulances, artillery, &c., through, but the joke was, the rebels drove us out of these early the next day and kept them during the fight. That evening we went to the rear, slept in our tents and were out early next morning to go to work bridging Stone river, but the ball opened in earnest on the right wing – were soon in line with the tents struck – baggage and camp equipage in the wagons, and on our way to the scene of action. The storm of battle kept growing fiercer and nearer, and soon crowds of cowardly dogs and stragglers were seen breaking to the rear. Before we got into line and our battery planted on one side of a field the enemy were coming in at the other close on the heals of our flying skirmishers. We laid low until our men got out of the way – raised up and a sheet of fire and lead flashed along the whole line, followed by several quick volleys, and then a charge which sent them back across the fields faster than they came. Many (besides prisoners) never got back. We took a position on a raise about the middle of the field and kept it. They crossed again to our right and got away to our rear. We wheeled around, gave them a thrust in the flank, and they went howling back to their jungle. New Year’s eve was very cold, but we had to lay in line of battle in front, without food, fire, or blankets. At one o’clock, our company were sent out on picket. I almost froze. New Year’s morning dawned clear and cold. Soon old Sol showed his fiery disk above the horizon red as blood, as if angrily contemplating our bloody scenes. All was still as the grave, until Gen. Rosecrans rode out toward a point of timber in front of our lines, when “Fire, fire, G-d D—m you, every one of you, fire.” was heard in the angry tones of Southern chivalry, followed by a volley which whistled around and past the general and his escort and over us. Our battery (the Chi. Board of Trade Battery) opened out, and with the fire from our Brigade, soon cleaned them out. We held our position all day, although annoyed continually by their sharp shooters, whose balls spattered around us in the mud, and whistled over us, wounded several, but killing none. We had to lie flat on the ground all day. We were relieved at 10 P.M. – went to the rear, slept by a fire, but were disturbed next morning while at breakfast by solid shot plunging and blowing up the ground in our midst. We got to our arms, (which were stacked close in mass,) without much delay. One shot passed my face, the force of which stunned me slightly, and took off the head of Sergt. Burke on my left, who had leaned forward in the act of stepping, just an instant before me. The next cut the man in two, who belonged behind me. We soon got up to the front, expecting a grand charge but it did not come till late in the afternoon and away to our left; then they got enough of it, and would have got more if we had had a little more day-light. I tell you our (Chi Board of Trade) battery is a splendid one. -- You ought to see them firing on a charge, running one gun ahead of another. During the hottest of the fight, Gen. Rosecrans rode out in front of the farthest gun, and cheered the gunners at their hard and dangerous toil. Thomas Kimble (Major 87th Ind.) had his horse shot under him. I got a ball though my haversack. We are making Murfreesboro a very strong place. The cars are running regularly. What do you think of northern traitors? I think the President’s proclamation will work like a charm, and it promises permanent peace. My health is good. We are working almost every day on fortifications, and are having a rainy time of it. – You have no idea of how much mud an army can make. It is beginning to look like spring here. The buds are swollen. The sun shines warm, (when it does shine,) and the birds sing as merrily as if there was no war. How I would like to see peace and enjoy civil life again. But I do not want it at the sacrifice of principle. My comrades are all asleep around me. The town clock is striking 11 and the sentinel is pacing his lonely beat, in the drenching rain, just back of my tent.
Your’s Truly,
Jacob W. Price
– Published in the Stark County News, Toulon, Illinois, March 26, 1863
