Diary of Musician David Lane, November 10, 1863

Lenoir.  No sooner was the order to build winter quarters given than the men scattered in all directions in search of material. There are many forsaken buildings in this vicinity. These were visited, the siding ripped off, floors torn up, chimneys, if brick, pulled down, and the material appropriated. Hundreds of men worked all night, and by morning had lumber enough to build bunks, floors and gable ends to their buildings. The reason of this all-night work was to get the start of the officers. They knew, by past experience, all building material would soon be put under guard for the use of officers. A large brick storehouse at the depot had been burned. This was seized by headquarters. Not a brick could be obtained, only as it was stolen in the night. Just the same, the boys all had brick chimneys.

Not being disposed to work nights or Sundays, my tent mates and myself did not begin to build until Monday morning. In the forenoon we cut our logs and carried them about half a mile on our backs.

In the afternoon two of us laid the foundations, while the other two went with the Sutler's team for a load of stone for our chimney. They also picked up a few boards. Tuesday we began to build in earnest—two at the house and two at the chimney—carrying them both up together. At night it was ready for the roof.

Wednesday we "chunked and daubed" it, and put on the roof, built our bunks, and, toward night, moved in. Thursday we finished the chimney, put up shelves, etc. We have a warm, comfortable house, seven logs high, roofed with two thicknesses of tent cloth, which makes a very good roof. Our bunk is in one end, and occupies four feet across it, leaving a room six feet by eight. We have a splendid fireplace—back and jambs of stone, the top of sticks. In one corner are shelves for our dishes. On one side of the room is a drop table, which we button to the wall when not in use. Our bunk is not made of poles, rough and crooked, like those of last winter, but of pine boards, soft and luxurious.

On Thursday we had regimental inspection of I told the boys I heard "music in the air," but they could not believe it. It was there, however. About 10 o'clock in the evening Captain Tyler came to our tent and called for me. He told me to wake the boys and tell them to pack their things and be ready to take cars in half an hour for Knoxville. Here was a fix—to leave our soft beds and warm houses, our winter quarters, and go out into the cold—it was bitter cold—to ride on the top of cars twenty, perhaps seventy-five miles, and sleep—if sleep we might—on the cold, damp ground, and march twenty or thirty miles a day on half rations. But away we went, the Third Brigade only, to the station. It was 2 o'clock in the morning before the cars were ready, and we reached Knoxville a little after sunrise. Here we learned the cause of the movement. The Rebels had made a dash on Wilcox, near Greenville, capturing a section of the Second Ohio Battery and part of the Second Tennessee Mounted Infantry. Not knowing their strength, we were ordered to be within supporting distance while a force of cavalry was sent out to reconnoitre. We drew full rations of soft bread and beef, and lay on the cars, the engine keeping up steam until about 4 p. m. We then encamped for the night. Next morning we again drew rations, packed our things and awaited orders with impatience. But no orders came, and there we lay and waited all that livelong day.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 115-7

Diary of Musician David Lane, November 11, 1863

Lenoir, Tenn.  This morning we were aroused by the Orderly at 3 o'clock, with orders to be ready to move at daylight. We sprang out of bed, built fires, cooked breakfast, which consisted of pancakes made of wheat flour and corn meal, issued in place of bread, beefsteak and coffee; packed up, and then sat down to await the coming of day. At 6 o'clock the bugle sounded, and we fell in and stacked arms. We then received orders to go to our quarters and be ready to fall in at a minute's notice. And so the matter has stood all day, and still remains. The reason for the movement is as follows: The Second Division has been engaged today in throwing a pontoon bridge across the Holston about a mile from here, and, not knowing the strength of the enemy, on the opposite side, we are to be ready to support them if necessary.

The bridge is nearly completed, and the Rebels have not shown themselves. Tomorrow the Second Division is to cross over. I understand they are to build winter quarters on the other side.

A “contraband" came into camp yesterday and reported himself direct from Rebeldom. He appeared intelligent, and told a straightforward story. He reports the Rebels in strong force across the river, and says they are building pontoons in which to cross over to attack us. His information was considered so important General Ferrera [sic] sent him, under guard, to General Burnside at Knoxville.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 118-9

Diary of Musician David Lane, November 14, 1863

Lenoir, Tenn.  We have been under orders for several days to be ready to fall in at a minute's notice. That order was repeated at 3 o'clock this morning. We had become so accustomed to it, we began to think it only form, and meant nothing. At sunrise, however, we were startled by the order, "Pack everything and be ready to march immediately, bag and baggage." Officers' baggage was put on wagons, the sick in ambulances, supplies of food and clothing—a fresh supply had but just arrived were reloaded, and the whole train headed toward Knoxville.

Our consternation can better be imagined than described. Every movement spoke of evacuation; of hasty, inglorious retreat. About 10 o'clock the cars came screaming in from Knoxville, bringing General Burnside. The wagon train was nearly formed, and, in half an hour, everything would have been ready for a general stampede. At 10 o'clock the bugle sounded fall in, and off we started toward Loudon. It soon leaked out the Rebels are crossing six miles below Loudon, and Burnside's arrival had changed the program. So away we went, through rain and mud, fourteen miles without stopping to rest, rejoicing it was not, after all, an ignominous retreat. We halted a little after dark in a thick wood, with orders to light no fires, but remain beside our arms, ready to fall in when called on. It had been very warm during the day, raining at times, and those not wet with rain were wet with sweat. Toward night the wind had changed, and it was bitter cold. And there we sat, two hours or more, cold and hungry, having eaten nothing since morning. The men began to grow impatient. The First Brigade were on our left, and fires burned brightly all along their line. Why could not we have fires? Tom Epley, of our company, thought we could, and away he goes for a coal of fire, while others gather wood and kindlings. But our lynx-eyed Adjutant discovers it, and down he comes. "Who built that fire?" says he. "I did, sir," says Tom. "Didn't you know 'twas against orders?" "No, sir; I thought the order was one fire to a company, sir." "You must put it out."

Then how the h--l are we to cook? Do you think we can march all day in rain and mud and eat flour and raw beef?" "It's tough, boys," says the Adjutant, "but that's the order." Tom did not put out the fire, but built it larger, and soon the order came, "One fire to a company."

We kept our fires brightly burning all night, expecting each moment the coming order. At 4 o'clock it came. Fall in, boys, very quietly, and quick as possible. Then, "about face," and off we went in the darkness, taking precisely the route we came. What was the meaning of this backward move? Our officers agreed it was to draw them out from the river that we might cut off their retreat and "bag them," as is our custom. We marched slowly and reached Lenoir about 2 p. m., when we formed in line of battle. At dark the Eighth Michigan was thrown out as skirmishers, or outpost pickets. They advanced about four miles on the Jamestown road, and as they formed their last post were fired on by Rebel pickets. The Rebels then rallied their skirmishers and charged the Eighth, which fell back to within a mile of our line of battle. They then faced about, charged the advancing Rebels, drove them a short distance, and held them until relieved. I now began to see how matters stood. The enemy had pursued us promptly and with energy; we were in line of battle awaiting an attack. Would they attack us before daylight? Probably not, as we held a good position. Will we await an attack or retire during the night? Of the latter I was confident, judging by what I saw and heard. Fires were kept up along the whole line, and some of the boys, worn out with fasting and marching, wrapped themselves in their blankets and lay down and slept. But there was no sleep for me, and there I sat, listening to every sound, watching every move. Two trains of cars, heavily loaded with supplies, crept slowly away toward Knoxville, the very engines seeming to hold their breath fearful of exciting suspicion. The distant rattle of wheels told me the wagon train was falling into line, and the bright glare of fire at the depot spoke of government property being sacrificed because there was no time to remove it. At 2 o'clock I heard the artillery on the hill near us, and which we were supporting, move away and join the train. A few minutes later we followed the artillery, silent as an army of spectres. Our regimental Surgeon and his staff occupied a tent a few rods in the rear of the regiment. Before we had proceeded a dozen yards I missed them and asked our Captain if they had gone on ahead. He seemed puzzled, as their place was in the rear. Perhaps, he said, they were not notified—had been overlooked in the confusion—if so, they will be captured. I asked permission to go back and warn them of their danger. I found them soundly sleeping in their tent, aroused them, and in a few hurried whispers explained the situation—then struck across the fields for the Knoxville road. About two miles distant we came across a body of troops resting beside stacked arms. Near by we found our regiment, and all was well.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 120-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, November 18, 1863

Diary of Musician David Lane, November 25, 1863

Knoxville.  Only seven days of siege, and our larder nearly empty. We have been on half rations since September 25th, consequently had no surplus to fall back on.

On the second day of the siege our rations were reduced to quarter rations. Now coffee and sugar have given out entirely. The men are constantly under fire. The enemy have advanced their sharpshooters to within one-fourth of a mile of our line. On the 20th they got possession of a house, just under the hill in our front, and annoyed us exceedingly. Colonel Comstock was ordered to burn it; he called for volunteers to perform the perilous feat. Instantly a company was formed, headed by A. J. Kelley, of Company E, and led by Lieutenant Josiah Billingsly. The house was set on fire and burned to the ground, but the heroic Billingsly was killed by a shell on his return.

Their sharpshooters had now advanced so near the men were forced to remain all day in their rifle pits. Every man who showed even his head became a target.

Yesterday morning, after it became fairly light, I jumped up on the embankment in front of me, as had been my custom, to see what advancement the enemy had made during the night. I took one quick glance around, and as I looked I saw two curls of smoke directly in front of me; on the instant one bullet whistled over my head; another dropped into the sand at my feet.

This morning Lieutenant Colonel Comstock received a mortal wound from one of them. A number of our boys have been wounded. The first four or five days of the siege our men divided up into reliefs and went up on the bank, in the rear of our pits, to cook and eat their food. On the 24th, as I was eating my breakfast, a rifle ball struck a camp kettle, standing beside me, and spilled its contents. About that time one of my comrades was struck in the face, the ball passing through both cheeks, nearly cutting off his tongue. Inspired by these gentle protests. we moved our kitchen over the brow of the hill, where we could cook and eat our "flapjacks" undisturbed.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 128-9

Diary of Musician David Lane, December 8, 1863

Knoxville.  Thanks to Almighty God—and General Grant the crisis is passed. General Sherman arrived on the 5th inst., but Longstreet had fled, and he returned immediately to Chattanooga. Nobody seems to know the exact date of Longstreet's withdrawal. Our forces were sent out in pursuit yesterday, the 7th inst., but no enemy could be found. We have passed through a terrible ordeal. Twenty days and nights under fire. Twenty days with death or surrender staring us in the face and surrender meant Andersonville, a fate worse than death. On our retreat from Lenoir we were compelled to leave most of our wounded. We have recovered our own and about three hundred wounded Rebels.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 130-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, December 21, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.  I have been three weeks "head nurse" in the first ward of the First Brigade hospital. Dr. Crosby is with the regiment at Blains Cross Roads, about eighteen miles from here. Most of my patients are from my own regiment, and were wounded at Campbell's Station or during the siege of Knoxville. The building we occupy was once a court house. The room is about thirty feet by forty. There are two large fireplaces, one on each side of the room. There are now thirty-three patients. All but six of the wounded can walk about the room with or without the aid of crutches. Around each fireplace is a group of men, eagerly discussing the probability of being sent to Washington or Baltimore. At one end of the room, resting one arm on the railing that surrounds the "judgment seat," stands the "ward boss," trying to write to the loved ones at home.

I am not on duty, but my patients ignore the fact, and frequently interrupt me with: "Mr. Lane, please step here a minute;" or, "Please give me a drink of water." I return and try to shut out all sights, all sounds, all thoughts but those of home. Vain effort. The voice of my favorite, Fred Byron, faintly strikes my ear: "Davie; oh, Davie!" Involuntarily I drop my pen and hasten to his side. "What is it, Fred? What can I do for you, my boy?" "Oh, I'm so tired, and nobody cares but you. That man with black whiskers handles me as though I am made of wood." I turn him gently over, adjust his bed and pillow, moisten his hot, feverish brow, and give him a sup of cool water. "There, Fred, now go to sleep, and when you wake you will feel better." As I turn to leave him, after bidding him good-night, he grasps my hand in both of his. "Oh, Davie, you are so kind; nobody can do for me as you can.'

He is a German, from Massachusetts, nineteen years old, fair as Adonis—brave as a hero—which he is.

I have many strong attachments here, and cannot well forsake them to return to the regiment.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 131-2

Diary of Musician David Lane, December 26, 1863

Knoxville.  I still remain at the hospital—can all winter if I choose. The sick and wounded are doing fairly well. Most of them will soon be well enough to go home on furlough. They are to be sent fast as it may be safe for them. One squad starts tomorrow. The men are eager to get away from here somewhere—anywhere.

This is called a United States General Hospital. It partakes of the nature of such an institution only so far as patients and shoulder-strapped doctors go toward making it one. And patients are becoming scarce, thank God. It is not a desirable place for convalescents, and, as soon as they are able, they gladly leave for their regiments. The wounded are all to have furloughs so says the Surgeon—and they are very impatient. They would run any risk to escape this den of filth, privation and starvation.

Think of a hospital where the patients have no bedding but the blankets they brought with them; no clothing but the dirty rags they wore from the field; no dishes but their tin cups and butcher knives; where there is no "bed pan," and only two night vessels for one hundred forty sick men; where washing is put off, week after week, for want of soap, there being not so much as one piece to wash hands with. I went to every store, grocery and sutler's shop in the city this morning, seeking soap and finding none. Where wounded soldiers are fed on coarse bread and beef or vegetable soup twice a day, and not half enough of this to satisfy.

It is no valid excuse that hospital stores cannot be procured here. They might have been sent from Kentucky before this time. Our troops the Ninth Corps in the field are in no better condition. They are encamped eighteen miles from here, unfit for duty for want of clothing; all are ragged; many have not a shoe to their feet or rags enough to cover them. Washington's army at Valley Forge is the only parallel in the history of this Nation. We have drawn very little clothing since we started for Mississippi in June last. I saw our Quartermaster Sergeant yesterday, Mr. Woodin; he assures me there is no prospect of our receiving supplies in the near future. What I have said applies to the Ninth Corps only; the Twenty-third and other corps are well supplied. The reason given is we are out of our department, and there is no regular channel of supply. I have just drawn two months' pay. I intended to send every dollar of it to my wife, who needs it, but will be compelled to use some of it or go naked. I have only one shirt, and that is nearly worn out. Army shirts-no better than those issued to us—cost six dollars at the sutler's. My shoes are nearly off my feet, and army shoes cost four dollars. I am destitute of socks, and socks cost one dollar. I do not wish to find fault, but the thought will arise, if sutlers can get their goods over the mountains, why cannot the Government? Again, there is, and has been, a heavy stock of clothing at the Gap. Why don't they send it on?

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 132-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 18, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.  Once more have my eyes been gladdened and my heart made to rejoice by the reception of love's sweet messengers—letters from home. How anxiously have I watched and waited, and what a load has been removed by those grateful words, "Well as usual."

But eighteen days is a long time to await tidings of those we love. Arrangements are being made to have our mail carried over the mountains on pack mules. When these arrangements are completed I think there will be more regularity.

We are encamped again near the city, awaiting whatever may turn up. The regiment is in excellent health and spirits. We have become accustomed to soldiers' fare; nothing seems to affect us. There is a striking contrast between old troops and new. When in pursuit of the Rebels beyond Greenville, Wilcox's men tired out and were withdrawn from the chase, while we pursued ten miles further. They are six and nine months men from Indiana.

I see by Northern papers that Rebel sympathizers hope to carry Ohio, New York and Pennsylvania in the coming election, and this hope nerves the Rebel leaders to make the most desperate efforts to hold out yet a little longer. They are doomed to disappointment.

These states will give an overwhelming majority for the Union.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 107

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 21, 1863

Loudon, Tenn.  We left Knoxville yesterday at 3 a. m. and took up our line of march for Kingston, forty miles distant, expecting to make it in three days. We took it leisurely and halted at 1 o'clock for dinner, having made twelve miles. We rested two hours and dined on hardtack and coffee. In the afternoon we marched six miles further and encamped for the night. The weather is delightful and roads good, which makes eighteen miles a day only gentle exercise. Very much depends on this. It is more tiresome to march ten miles when the roads are wet and slippery than twice that distance when dry and firm. We had hardly arrived in camp before the report of a dozen rifles told us the work of slaughter had begun.

Before dark good, fat beef was issued, and we supped on coffee, hardtack and beef. We have drawn nothing else, except sugar, since leaving Crab Orchard, and now we are getting only half rations of coffee and sugar. This morning we were aroused at 3 o'clock, two hours earlier than the usual time when on the march, but we "tumbled out," made coffee, fried beef, ate our breakfast, dried and rolled up our tents and blankets, and at 4 o'clock were ready for business. At 5 o'clock the bugle sounded "fall in," and in fifteen minutes the whole division was in motion. But not toward Kingston. I soon learned that Colonel Wolford was in a "fix," and we were on the way to help him out. Cannonading could be heard in the direction of Loudon Bridge, which served as a stimulant, and away we dashed, making fifteen miles by 11 o'clock. We were now within two miles of the bridge, and halted in a piece of timber. Here we learned that the crisis had passed, and Colonel Leisure told us to make ourselves comfortable as possible until morning.

Loudon bridge crosses the Holston a short distance above its junction with the Clinch. These two form the Tennessee. The railroad from Bristol to Loudon is entirely in our possession. From this place to Cleveland the rebels have small forces at different points. We have strong fortifications on this side the river, occupied by the Twenty-third Corps, who have just completed a pontoon bridge. Wolford, with a brigade of cavalry and mounted infantry crossed this bridge, advanced about six miles and began to fortify. One regiment was sent out to look for the enemy. Forage being scarce and hard to get, another was sent off with a train to gather forage. Just at this critical moment, when he was least prepared, the Rebels threw a force of five thousand troops between him and the bridge, thus cutting off his retreat, and summoned him to surrender. To oppose them Wolford had two regiments of cavalry, a battery of six pieces, but no ammunition. What was to be done surrender? His case looked desperate; some might have considered it hopeless; but "Wolf" was only indignant. He bared his teeth and growled, "What! me surrender? Why, man, I'm here to fight. Go back and tell your people I'll call on them directly." He spiked his useless cannon and abandoned them; put himself at the head of his brave followers and hurls them like an avalanche upon the enemy's center; cuts his way through their line, taking ninety prisoners, reached the bridge with little loss, while our artillery on this side made pursuit impossible. This took place yesterday. This morning, having been reinforced, he crossed the river to offer them battle. He found them but two miles away, and immediately engaged them. When we arrived here the roar of artillery could be distinctly heard, but gradually it grew faint and fainter, until at sundown it had died away in the distance.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 108-10

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 28, 1863

Lenoir, Tenn.  I said yesterday that I was puzzled. I am more than ever today. I am confounded, disappointed, chagrined.

Our forces evacuated Loudon early this morning. The Rebels took immediate possession. Everything of value that could not be removed was destroyed. Only last night a locomotive was run across the river to be used on that side as we advanced. Four cars had been left there by the Rebels when they evacuated. As we had no time to remove them, the engineer put on steam and ran them off the embankment into the river. The Union people left with us. We have fallen back six miles and encamped for the night. A strong force is posted on the heights to prevent surprise.

I am simply stating facts as they occur. Of course, I cannot know the whys and wherefores of these movements. Perhaps they are part of the "original plan," and not a retreat. We all have confidence in Burnside, but, if we do not see Knoxville between now and Sunday I am much mistaken. To my heated imagination the Cumberland Mountains loom up with wonderful distinctness.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 113

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 29, 1863

Lenoir.  Another letter from home last night, dated October 16th. Only four letters in two months; I find, too, my letters are quite as irregular.

I have just learned that Lieutenant Miller starts for home at 6 o'clock tomorrow morning. He will visit my loved ones and tell them all the news. I know not how to express myself in regard to our present situation. I am glad we were not forced to retreat. Still, I am certain we could have held those heights, and to leave without firing a gun! Oh, for a few Wolfords and Grants—men who are "here to fight."

All sorts of rumors are afloat. "Bragg, with all his army, is advancing." Longstreet is crossing the river six miles below Kingston to flank us on the right. Another heavy force is on our left, making for Knoxville. "Wilcox has been driven back from the east," and a hundred others equally encouraging. We know not what to think of it, and yet must criticise and form conclusions. But it is all explained at last. We fell in at 1 o'clock today, marched about a mile to a beautiful grove near a large spring of never-failing water. Here our division formed in line and stacked arms, with orders to remain in line until further notice. Lieutenant Colonel Comstock soon called our regiment to "attention," ordered company commanders in front of center, and then and there revealed to them the long-wished-for intelligence. All officers and men were taken by surprise. We were prepared to hear of some great calamity, but not for this. Nothing like it had ever before happened to the Ninth Army Corps. "Our fall campaign is closed. Prepare for yourselves comfortable quarters for the winter." For a moment there was a silence that could be felt, then a shoat went up that "rent the heavens and shook the everlasting hills." Not simply because we were ordered to prepare winter quarters, but a mysterious movement had been explained a weight of anxiety removed.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 113-5

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 2, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.  We are shut out from all intercourse with the rest of the world. Even Dame Rumor has retired behind the scenes, exhausted, doubtless, by the herculean efforts she has put forth the last few days. By the last and only mail we have had since we came here, we received a bundle of Detroit Tribunes, dated September 15th. Since then the silence of isolation has enveloped us. There is a tiny sheet published daily at Knoxville. It is silent on all except local subjects, and nearly so on them. I notice, in yesterday's edition, a convention has been held by the people of this county to nominate delegates to a state convention, to be held at Nashville, for the purpose of nominating a state ticket. The delegates pledge themselves to support no candidate who is not truly loyal. Thus, while politicians and demagogues are wrangling over "reconstruction and territorial admission," the people are solving the most difficult problem by the most simple process.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 101

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 12, 1863

We left Knoxville at 9 a. m. of Saturday and arrived within ten miles of Greenville about sundown. The hills and valleys were covered with troops, those in front in line of battle. Artillery and musketry could be heard about two miles in front, and we were told there had been skirmishing in front nearly all day. It was nearly dark, and our brigade, being in front, we marched about half a mile and encamped for the night. Before it was fairly light the next morning we joined our brigade, which was in the extreme front, supporting a battery. Every preparation had been made for a "big fight," and our boys awaited the attack with eager anticipation. Skirmishers were thrown out to ascertain the position of their infantry, that our batteries might open the ball by a salute at sunrise. Our skirmishers soon returned—they had found no enemy. Instantly away dashed a regiment of cavalry in hot pursuit, followed by the First Division—the Seventeenth in advance. We did some fast marching for about two hours, when we halted for two mounted brigades to pass. Here we learned the Rebels passed through Greenville about daylight, and were some ten miles ahead, making the best time possible. But Foster's cavalry had been sent around to intercept them should they retreat.

He was expected to cross the river at a ferry fifteen miles above Greenville and intercept them in a ravine about five miles beyond. But the ferry boats had been destroyed, and he was compelled to go several miles to a ford, which caused so much delay he did not arrive in time. We followed several miles and gave up the pursuit.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 103-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, October 14, 1863

Our part in this expedition is done, and we are on our way back to Knoxville. Wilcox's "baby brigade," as our boys call them, and the Twenty-third Corps, together with cavalry and mounted infantry, are following up the retreating Rebels. I have not learned the result of the fight, and probably will not for some days to come. Over a hundred of their dead are buried at Blue Springs, where our forces first overtook them, and as far as I went which was fifteen miles—every house was filled with their wounded.

I saw some were from Lee's army. One Lieutenant said he remembered seeing our regiment at Fredericksburg. He had stood picket opposite our boys several times. There was a brigade from the Rappahannock. Their force, he said, was about eight thousand, all mounted. The facts in the case were about as follows: Burnside had cleared his department of armed Rebels and had advanced into Virginia as far as Salt Town, where the Rebels had extensive salt works, strongly fortified. Before he could concentrate sufficient force to destroy these works, word came that Rosa was in danger—that Burnside was to hold himself in readiness to reinforce him at a minute's notice. In order to do this he must withdraw all his forces from the northeast and concentrate them near Knoxville.

The Rebels followed up as he fell back, and occupied the positions he had driven them from.

Before Burnside reached Morristown, word came from Rosa that he was safe inside his fortifications and was being rapidly reinforced by Grant. This left Burnside free to do over again what had been undone, but through no fault of his.

It was a touching sight to witness the joy of these much-abused people at our return. Men who had fled to the bush as the Rebels advanced, and dare not, for their lives, appear, came flocking in and were welcomed with tears and shouts of joy by wives and children. Their gratitude was unbounded.

As I witnessed the delight of these people and listened to their tales of suffering, I felt more than ever that I was engaged in a just and holy cause, and my heart was strengthened to do and dare for human liberty.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 105-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 9, 1863

Crab Orchard, Ky.     Again has the note of preparation sounded in our camp, and all hands are busy getting ready for another campaign. In all probability we will soon be on our winding way among the Cumberland Mountains, en route for East Tennessee to assist in driving treason from that unhappy State. Orders have not been issued, but our artillery and ambulances have come, clothing has been issued, knapsacks, haversacks, canteens and tents have been distributed, and, more ominous still, forty rounds of cartridges have been dealt out to every man—in fact, we are ready to take the field at a minute's notice, and only await the order.

"Be ready to march tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock," is the order that greets me as I write. It is one hundred forty miles to Knoxville, our objective point, and will take us fourteen days if unopposed.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 90

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 13, 1863

London, Ky.     We broke camp last Thursday morning, the tenth of September, bound for Cumberland Gap, ninety miles distant. The first day we marched eleven miles over a rough, broken country, and encamped for the night. The next morning we started at 5 o'clock and made eighteen miles; yesterday, nine miles — thirty-eight miles in three days, with eight days' rations and our accoutrements. The second day we marched rapidly, making few halts, our business being urgent, for Burnside's left was threatened, and we were hastening to the rescue. But, thanks to a kind Providence, a messenger met us at this place with the intelligence that the Rebels had suddenly left East Tennessee to join Bragg's army at Lafayette, and the Gap was already in possession of our forces. There being no cause for haste, our commander decided to spend the Sabbath here, and give the poor, tired mules a chance to rest. We will probably resume our march in the morning and proceed leisurely to the Gap—perhaps to Knoxville. We have borne the fatigue thus far better than I expected.

It is a long time since I carried a knapsack, but the more I have to do, the more strength I have to do it with.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 90-1

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 20, 1863

Cumberland Gap.     We are now in East Tennessee, one mile south of the famous Gap in the Cumberland Mountains.

When we left Crab Orchard we expected a fight here, as it was then in possession of the Rebels. I cannot say I am sorry they gave us possession without a struggle, for it is an ugly looking place, and "hard to take" without opposition. Our route, for the last sixty miles, has been over, around and among mountains, but this is the "back bone," or main ridge, which rises in a direct line high above the isolated peaks on either side. The Gap is a slow, gradual ascent that rises to about half the altitude of the mountain on each side; is very crooked, and, at places, barely wide enough for a wagon to pass. At the summit it widens out into a small plain, or basin, containing about five acres, and shut in by a solid wall of rock two or three hundred feet in height. Near the center of the basin is a large spring of crystal water. Here are the fortifications, and a stronger position can hardly be imagined. One thousand men can hold it against any force that can be sent against it, so long as provisions and ammunition holds out. On the summit is a marble shaft that marks the corners of Virginia and Kentucky and the north line of Tennessee. By taking two steps I was in three different States. We are awaiting orders, and may remain over tomorrow. It is yet undecided whether we go to Knoxville or to Morristown, thirty miles above the former place, on the Richmond & New Orleans Railroad.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 93-4

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 24, 1863

Knoxville, Tenn.     We left the Gap on the twenty-first and made twenty miles, climbing up one side of a mountain two or three miles, then down the other side. It was a toilsome march, and, when we halted at night, my feet seemed pounded to a jelly. We reached Morristown the twenty-second, and immediately took cars for Knoxville, as we supposed, but the engine coupled to the wrong end of the train, and away we dashed to Greenville, thirty miles up the valley. We arrived there about sundown, stacked arms, unslung knapsacks, made a dash for rails with which to build our camp fires, but, while we were engaged in making them fly again, the bugle sounded "fall in"—the rails were abandoned, we were ordered on board the cars, and took the back track for Knoxville. We arrived here at 4 o'clock this morning and marched directly to the Fair Ground, three-fourths of a mile from the city, where we are now encamped.

The boys are somewhat worn by heavy marches, and a few days' rest will do them good.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 95

Diary of Musician David Lane, September 25, 1863

The Fair Ground, on which we are encamped, is simply a clearing in the wood, without buildings, fence or shade. But it is a pleasant place, near a spring of good water, and bordering on the Holston River. I have just returned from the city, where I have spent most of the day. These are glorious days for the people of Knoxville. They tell me the day of their deliverance has come at last. The story of their sufferings has been but feebly told. Even a Brownlow cannot do it justice. Hundreds of citizens followed us to their homes, from which they had been driven a year or more ago. They are flocking in by fifties and by hundreds and are organizing for their own defense. We have given them the oportunity, and they are eager to embrace it. One lady told me it was with difficulty she could repress a shout of joy as she saw our blue coats filing down the streets. Loyalty here is pure and unalloyed, as proven by the sacrifices they have made.

We are objects of much curiosity. An old gentle man, a preacher, walked six miles to see us. We were the first Northern men he ever saw. He said he could not express his gratitude to us for their timely deliverance.

Parson Brownlow is expected here soon. I saw his son today. He is a noble-looking fellow, about 21 years of age; is Lieutenant Colonel of a regiment that has been raised since Burnside came here. Burnside is the hero of the hour in East Tennessee.

It is twenty days since I received my last mail. During all that time I have not seen a newspaper, therefore am totally ignorant of what is taking place in other parts of the world.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 95-6