By 1856 politics were becoming very hot. Either the Whig or Democratic parties had been in power for many years. Both recognized slavery and advocated keeping the Negroes in slavery.
    There were 31 states at that time, about evenly divided: half free states and half slave states. The slave states wanted to extend slavery to the new states ready to come in, and the free states were opposed to the further extension, or admission of any more slave states. Those opposed to the further extension of slavery in the United States began holding meeting throughout the northern states, which resulted in the formation of the Republican Party, and the nomination of John C. Fremont for president and William G. Dayton for vice-president, and the party platform declared against further extension of slavery.  Fremont was defeated, but carried 12 of the 51 states, and so solidified the Republican Party.
    Lincoln was elected four years later in 1860 and all this time politics boiled hotter and hotter, and as nearly all of our neighbors and in the country round about were from the slave states just south of us, their sympathies were with the south.
    My father had taken a very active part, making political speeches and preaching against slavery. The pro-slavery element became very hostile to the few opponents of slavery, the Fletcher family in particular, and politically speaking we were generally called Black Republican Abolitionists. In some instances the feelings ran so high that parents forbid their daughters from keeping company with us "Black Republicans."
    I notice in the history of our regiment, the 27th Indiana, on page 602 it speaks of the anti-union sentiment where our company was made up. After we had enlisted in the army we were often spoken of as "Lincoln's hirelings", "nigger lovers" and so on, and we Union people would speak of pro-slavery people as "copperheads". These people adopted as their emblem the Butternut from which they made a very neat-looking pin, which they, as well as many of the women and girls would wear on the lapels of their coats.
    This enmity existed during the war and after, and I remember at the second election of Lincoln, to make sure that we were carrying Indiana, I was given a furlough with many other Indiana soldiers, for fifteen days, to go home and vote.
    On Election Day I went to our polling place in Morgantown, and I noticed that a hundred or so of our "copperheads" had gathered. Close up, near the window where the voting tickets were taken in, I met Billy Fesler, the father of our colonel.
    Mr. Fessler gave me a ticket, but said to me at the time, "You see that crowd out there"?
    I said that I did. "What of it?"
    "Well," he said, "I have just heard from Indianapolis and they inform me the election is going all right and we will carry the state by a good majority, and the way feeling is, you'd better not try to vote. I am afraid you will have trouble."
    "Well", I said, "Uncle Billy, I came over one thousand miles to vote and I am going to vote and take the chances if it's the last single act of my life."
    "All right,'' he said, "If that's the way you feel, go to it."
    So I walked over to the polling place, elbowed my way to the window, but when I offered to vote, there was a cry from several, "I challenge that vote."
    "On what grounds?" asked the chairman.
    "On the grounds that he is not twenty one years old."
    The chairman asked me if I wanted to swear my vote in. I said that I sure did, whereby I swore I was twenty-one past, saw my vote go in the box and elbowed my way back through the crowd. I heard some very unfriendly remarks, but no one attempted to molest me.
    As the history of the 27th Indiana Regiment (I was a member of Company G), sets forth, upon our arrival at Washington, early in September, 1861, we gradually worked our way up the Potomac River about a hundred miles. The Potomac is only navigable for any kind of ship above Washington City (now called Washington D.C.), so our real business was to keep the enemy on their side of the river in Virginia. We finally got as far as Fredrick City, Maryland and went into camp.
    Every day at about 9:00 AM, guards were called for, so many from each company, and taken down to the river to relieve guards of the day before, under a Sergeant or a Corporal. Sometimes, if the guard was large, both the Sergeant and Corporal would be detailed to go with the guard.
    As I was a Corporal, it was my duty when detailed to relieve the men on post every two hours. Thus a guard on post was on two hours and off four hours of the twenty-four. We were on guard duty about once a week.
    Aong the river ran a canal, with many boats running, supplying the country and the army with food and coal, mostly. A mule or a horse walked by the side of the canal, hitched to the boat with a tow line.
    Our guard posts were generally along the narrow strip of land between the canal and the river. Nothing of importance took place the two months we were there. Of course, when not on guard duty, we were being drilled about six hours a day. The farmers living along the river had several fish traps in the river, and as no one was permitted to cross our guard lines, we helped ourselves to the fish and the eels caught in the traps. Sometimes, when there were more fish than we wanted, we would divide them with the owners of the traps.
    One amusing thing happened that I recall and I will mention. We had strict orders not to make any fires at night along the guard line, but quite unexpectedly we got orders to break camp and march back down to the river. One of the boys had built a smoldering fire from coal that had been scattered along the canal.
    When the colonel came along, gathering the guard, it was dark, he noticed the fire, and said to the boy, "How did you come to build that fire against strict orders not to?"
    The boy said, "I didn't build any fire, Colonel."
    The colonel said, "What did you do?"
    The boy answered, "I covered it up, Colonel"
    "What with?" asked the colonel.
    "With stove coal," said the boy.
    "Well," says the colonel in his brisk way, "You get into ranks in a hurry or I will skin you alive!"
    Of course the rest of us had a lot of fun at the boy's expense!
    We continued on down the Potomac River to Harper's Ferry, where we crossed the river into Virginia, the first Union troops to cross the river at this point. We were in the Shenandoah Valley for two months, until we were driven out. At Winchester, on May 25th 1862, we were defeated in battle. We retreated to Williamsport, Indiana, 35 miles from Winchester. We crossed the river on a ferry boat that would hold about 100 men per trip.
    From Williamsport we went to Hagerstown, a town of six or seven thousand, where there was much disorder on account of the citizens being about equally divided between the Union and Southern cause. The little city was put under martial law, the colonel acting as mayor, one of the captains as police judge. It was our duty to act as policemen.
    So a Corporal or Sergeant would take a squad of six or eight Privates and patrol the city, day and night. They would arrest anyone creating a disturbance, or being drunk and disorderly. I would take out my squad, daily, for two hours out of six, the same as on guard duty.
    When we came in with those we had arrested, and we almost always had some, we would put them in the city jail until the next morning, when the police judge would hear our evidence as to why we had arrested them, and deal with them accordingly. After about a month of duty at Hagerstown, we were marched down the river again to Harper's Ferry, crossed the Potomac, and a day or so later crossed the Shenandoah River and marched over Louden Mountain. This was some march, as it took us from early in the morning on the zigzag road to reach the top, where we could see the road where we had started.
    We continued our march for several days, guarding a huge wagon train returning from the army in front of Richmond. We passed over the Bull Run battlefield, on to the vicinity of the Culpepper Court House, about 125 miles from Harper's Ferry where we went into camp for a month. On about August Ist the Union army decided to withdraw, and as they would have to return by water via the James River and Chesapeake Bay, it would take some time.
    To defend the capital city two other army corps were joined with ours. The three were put under the command of General Pope, to hold in check Lee's Army. We were only 35 or 40 miles from Washington, and as Lee had three or four times as many men as General Pope, we had to do some active work to keep the enemy out of Washington, until McClelland's army reached us. There was much fighting and skirmishing along a large creek that ran at the base of Cedar Mountain, where there was a good crossing. Our corps, under General Banks, was ordered to go to this ford and hold it.
    We arrived at the crossing about noon on August 9th, 1862, and found the enemy had reached the crossing the night before, had crossed to our side and entrenched, and out-numbered us three to one. Of course we fell back, with heavy losses, General Banks stating that he had lost 2200 men in twenty minutes.
    In this charge, one of our company, Stimpson by name, was stuck with a bayonet in his shoulder, the only one of our company ever bayoneted. General Banks, for his blunder, was soon relieved from his command of our corps, and General Mansfield put in command.
    There were several fights of more or less importance in the vicinity, and it was soon observed that the main army of Lee's was going up the Potomac River on the Virginia side. As our main army, in front of Richmond, was arriving, our corps joined them to head off the enemy. We had to march about two miles to their one, having to go back around by Washington to cross the Potomac, and for several days we did some fast marching. When we finally caught up, Lee had crossed the river about 125 miles above Washington and was still going north. Both armies began to concentrate near a small town in Maryland known as Sharpsburg, near Antietam Creek. The main battle was along this creek above the little town.
    Early in the morning of September 17, 1862, our army, under the command of General McClelland, attacked Lee's army. All along the line, which consisted, besides the 27th Indiana, of the 3rd Wisconsin, 13th New Jersey and 2nd Massachusetts, we had camped in a piece of woodland the night before.
    In front of us was quite a large pasture and adjoining this was a cornfield. In our advance across the open pasture, either side fired no shots, but when we got near the cornfield the Confederates opened up with a galling fire with rifle and artillery. The Rebel infantry line, as they lay on the ground, were hidden by the tall corn, and I well remember my feelings at the first fire.
    Bill Hensley and another one of our boys were killed at the first fire. Both were near me, one falling at my side and the other against me. The thought passed through my mind instantly that we would all be killed.
    We had, just before this battle, received several recruits from back home. One of them was, I think, the smallest little man I had yet seen in the army, and when he arrived one of the boys said to him, "Well, you're all right, you're so small the Rebs will never hit you."
    All the same, a bullet hit him square in the forehead, killing him instantly. Afterwards some of the boys said that if the bullet that killed him had hit anyone else it would have been a flesh wound. I think that these three, and two others that died of wounds, were all of Company G that were killed at Antietam, but many were wounded.
    We continued the fight, driving them through the cornfield and about a half a mile beyond, then our ammunition was about all shot away, and we were relieved by our other brigade. We went back to the rear to get something to eat, as we had had no breakfast, and to fill up our cartridge boxes. We were taken back to the front late that evening, but as the other side was very much exhausted, they did not put up much of a fight, and after driving them a half mile or so further back, night came on and the fighting gradually ceased.
    During the night, Lee sent in a flag of truce, asking for a truce of twelve hours to bury the dead, which McClellan granted. He was severely censored for this by the War Department and relieved from command; General Burnside replaced him. It was generally believed, in military circles, that had McClellan not granted the armistice, but kept on fighting, he could have captured a large part of Lee's army. As it was, Lee used the twelve hours to get what was left of his army back across the river, and thereby make his escape, which he succeeded in doing.
    This battle of Antietam is considered the hardest fought battle of the war, as losses on both sides were greater than any other one day's fighting. Our Corps Commander Mansfield was killed and General Slocum took command of our troops. We followed Lee's retreat through Virginia until we reached Stafford Court house, some 25 or 30 miles from the Rappahannock River, which Lee's army crossed and then camped near Fredericksburg. We remained near Stafford Court house during the winter, where we built small log houses to live in.
    In the latter part of April 1863 our corps, with a couple thousand cavalry, were sent up the river 35 or 40 miles, starting at night, so as to not be observed. We crossed the river and went down the river, until we came to the Rapidan, a small river emptying into the Rappahannock. This stream we had to cross, enough of us to keep the Confederate cavalry away, while a bridge could be built. Our regiment, the 27th, was taller than most of the others, so was ordered to wade the river.
    After a number of the smaller and shorter ones were taken out of the ranks, a company of cavalry was strung along just below the crossing to pick up anyone that had lost their footing. The water was not only cold, but very swift, and deep enough to come up to our shoulders in places. We all made it across all right, and those two or three that lost their footing were picked up by the horsemen.
    The bridge was completed by the next day and we took up our march, on down the river to Chancellorsville, where two or three corps waited across the river to get over.
    It only took a day or two to put five pontoon bridges across, and the rest of the army came across. We then took up our positions, other corps filled up the line until all of our corps rested on the riverbank, where Lee's army was 20 miles below. General Joe Hooker superseded Burnside, and our lines were completed May Ist 1863.
    The 11th corps took up their positions early in the afternoon and although three corps had been sent to attack Lee at Fredericksburg, General Stonewall Jackson, with a large part of Lee's army, marched around us from Fredericksburg to the river above us, where the 11th corps had taken position, only a few hours before.
    General Carl Shurg, who had led the 11th corps, with his division in position, allowed his men to stack their arms and had failed to put out in his front any pickets or skirmish lines to prevent a surprise attack. Consequently, when Jackson worked his way quietly through the small pine trees and underbrush unnoticed. When his men fired a volley into our General Shurg's lines, it created the worst panic that was ever known in the army.
    Naturally when the 11th corps boys stacked their rifles in line, they took off their cartridge belts and other accoutrements, and hung them on their rifles and walked away. They gathered in little squads, talking, playing cards, or doing anything for amusement.
    When the first volley of shots came among them they were taken by surprise. They could not get to their guns so they broke for the rear, by the thousands.  The difficulty they there encountered getting back through the brush and reserve lines, just simply made them crazy, like a stampede of a large herd of wild cattle. Our corps, the 12th was nearest the trouble and we were ordered double quick to our right and to fill up the gap caused by the stampede.
    For the next hour or two, we saw and participated in the most exciting times of the war. Our brigade and the adjoining 11th corps were the first to march to our right to stop the stampede, and also to stop the enemy.
    We had moved a quarter of a mile or so, when the 11th corps boys became so numerous on their backward run, we were compelled to stop, line up, put our bayonets on, and come to a charge bayonet, to keep from becoming demoralized. I will say here, that when a stampede like this is on, it is a very hard matter to hold other soldiers in line, although hundreds of officers came from other corps to encourage the boys.
    Our own officers had the time of their lives to keep the line-up. In front of me was a young German, who persisted in stepping back, and several times I put my gun across his back and shoved him back in line. Other officers frequently slapped some of the boys with the side of their swords. Fortunately we held our lines. As soon as the stampede had passed, and Jackson's men got close enough, we opened fire on them and drove them back quite a distance. Then night overtook us, and firing ceased until morning.
    When firing opened up again at daylight, we held our ground until about noon, when fresh troops took our places. We retired to the rear three or four miles, and went into camp. This was the last of our fighting at Chancellorsville. We had lost a good many men and were tired out.
    In the fighting the evening before, Stonewall Jackson was mortally wounded and the south lost, I think, the best General they had. I remember well, at daylight the morning fighting began, there were scores of whippoorwills over the battlefield, singing for dear life, whippoorwill, whippoorwill, and in other battles it was not unusual to see the small wild animals, such as rabbits running about, almost frightened to death. It is related that Zeb Vance who had been governor of North Carolina and later a General in the southern army, when he lead his division into battle, saw a rabbit run by, and remarked, "Go it cotton-tail, if I hadn't a reputation to sustain, I'd be with you."
    The night of May 3rd, 1863, and the following day the army crossed back over the river and the Army of the Potomac was again defeated. That was the last of General Carl Shurg in the army, and a month or so later General Hooker was relieved from command of the army and General Meade appointed in his place.
    General Lee started north again, with his whole army arriving in the vicinity of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, where our army overtook him. We marched mostly over the same route we did when we went to Antietam, except for going 75 or 100 miles further.
    One thing was very noticeable after we crossed the line into Pennsylvania: we were among friends. The Union sentiment was very strong. All along the wide turnpike road, the farms were very large and comfortable. Along the road the women and girls would set out buckets and tubs of good cool water, and in several instances they had quantities of buttered sandwiches to hand to the soldiers. In two or three instances the girls and boys of the neighborhood had gathered on the balcony of a large farmhouse and sang songs, mostly patriotic, as we passed by.
    On the last day of June 1863, the Ist and 11th corps overtook Lee's army, and both armies began concentrating for battle. We were at Littlestown, 55 miles away from Gettysburg and were ordered to get on the ground as soon as possible. So we started a fast march, stopping every twenty minutes to make a cup of coffee and eat a little. We arrived near Gettysburg the next day, July Ist. We were placed at the right flank, near Culp's Hill, where we built a line of breast works very hastily constructed from fence rails, old logs or anything we could find.
    The Ist and 11th corps were in the advance, and Lee attacked them, and drove them back with considerable losses. General Reynolds, commander of the first corps, was killed. Our troops held their ground near Little Round Top. The next day Lee attacked a portion of our army that had taken position on our left, and our corps, the 12th, under General Slocum, were ordered to their assistance. We made the four miles or so as fast as we could, were lined up and relieved the boys who had been fighting for several hours.
    After our first volley, the enemy, realizing we were fresh troops, began to slowly fall back, but kept up their firing. We drove them back to their original line and as dark had overtaken us firing ceased. We were ordered back to our position near Culp's Hill, and it was getting quite dark, so our Company G was put out in front of the regiment as a skirmish line. We spread our men out about 30 or 40 feet apart, about 200 yards ahead of the regiment. When we had gotten within 200 or 300 yards of our works that we had left, I met a man coming in the opposite direction. I stopped him and asked him what corps he belonged to and he replied, the 6th. I knew that our 6th corps' position was on the left wing from where we were returning, and it dawned on me that he belonged to the enemy. Several of our boys on the skirmish line had the same experience. These Rebs, we learned afterwards, were the advance line of Envel's corps of Lee's army. They had not reached our old position, and we got back to it with little trouble.
    In the morning Lee's army made a general assault, except in our front and we were worsted all along our lines. Our Commander Meade ordered an advance on Lee's lines, and here is where we got in bad. It was claimed afterwards that Meade's order to attack was only intended for those who had been engaged, and did not apply to us. But, whether a mistake or not, we were ordered to advance.
    We were in a small strip of woodland, and between the enemy and our Company was an open pasture or meadow. On the edge of the meadow next to where the rebs were, ran small, deep creek. Bordering the creek, close on the other side, were acres of boulders, large stones and big trees; behind these the Rebs could shield themselves with comparative safety.
    We met their galling fire soon after we reached the open ground, but we continued on until we reached the creek. Some few of the boys jumped into it, and almost went head over heels, so it was evident we could not get over the creek, and a fall back order was given. All this time we were being shot down. While we were under such a hot fire, I noticed our colors fall to the ground as fast as they were raised up. My brother John, a sergeant, was a color bearer with eight corporal guards. Of these, brother John and three of the corporals were killed. (Editor's note: A concrete headstone marks the spot where these men died, in Gettysburg National Monument). The other corporals were wounded, and two or three others what had picked up the flags were either killed or wounded.
    While this was going on, my gun had been shot out of my ands, which knocked me heels over head, and for a moment I could not imagine what had happened. I also had a red streak across my back and a hole through my pants, just below my knee from the enemy's bullets. About this time we started to retreat and our colors were on the ground. Our adjutant, Will Dougherty, ordered me to pick them up.
I said, "You pick them up," which he did.
    But I noticed he did not raise them up, but dragged them along after him. I should not have said to him what I did, however we were good friends, and after talking it over, the matter was not spoken of again.
    As all the rest of our division was on the other side of the creek, they soon drove those in front of us out. It is needless to say that our regiment lost heavily, our company losing one third of our number. However our army was successful, all along our front, in holding our lines intact. Fighting gradually ceased, when at a signal gun, the enemy fired a volley from over 200 cannon, at which over 250 of our cannon belched forth at them. This cannonading was all over our heads, and sometimes it seemed to raise us off the ground. This was the worst cannonading we were under during the war.
    After this went on for an hour or two, Rebel General Pickett made a charge against our center, with some eight- or nine-thousand fresh troops. Our front line gradually fell back, and then our sidelines closed in on Pickett, and he got out of the trap with but a few men; our side took more than 5000 prisoners. Thus ended the battle of Gettysburg. Lee withdrew his army and returned to Virginia as fast as he could.
    After almost a day's delay, we followed him up, spending our time burying our dead comrades of our regiment. The boys had gathered, twenty eight in one place, and dug a long trench about six and a half feet wide, and long enough to lay the bodies, wrapped up in their blankets, side by side, with head boards to etch the letters being cut in with their knives.
    In the evening on the 4th of July 1863, we took up the march, and followed Lee's army back to near where both armies had started, 200 miles or more. A few days after we arrived and had gone into camp, we received marching orders; we had no idea where we were going. After we marched several miles we pulled up at the railroad station, where several trains were waiting, as well as several other regiments. We boarded the cars, and not until we had arrived at Alexandria, fifteen miles below Washington City, did it become known that we were destined for New York City where war riots had broken out; the city was unable to quell them. In a few hours we were on a large transport vessel, and headed down the Potomac. This was my first trip on the Atlantic Ocean.
    I did not get sea sick, I enjoyed the trip, although off Cape Hatteras the sea was quite rough. There was one incident worth mentioning on the trip, as I recall. As we neared New York, one of the officer's Negroes, an orderly, fell overboard. The watchman called out, "Man overboard!"
    The captain asked who it was and the watchman replied, "It was a nigger."
    The captain said, "Let him go," and did not stop to pick him up!
    When we arrived in New York City the riots had about stopped. We went into camp in Battery Park at the foot of Broadway. We were there for one or two months, to help enforce a draft that had been made previously.
    But the men who had been drafted had failed to show up. So the deputy U.S. Marshals would canvas the city, and bring the drafted men to city hall, about two miles from our camp on the waterfront, where we would send a detail to bring the drafted men down and put them on board a vessel. When the vessel had a load, she would sail for Alexandra, Virginia, and deliver them to the Army of the Potomac.
    While we were in New York City, we had a good time, as when not on duty, we would go about to see the sights. I took in Tony Pasters Theater several times, which I very much enjoyed.
    When we returned to the Army of the Potomac we got marching orders again. We soon learned that the Union forces at Chattanooga Town had met with defeat and our corps, the 12th, and the 11th had been ordered there to reinforce them, as they were gradually been surrounded, and their bread line was shut off. So as fast as railroad trains could be mobilized, we went aboard and started, passing through Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, and Indiana. Our train went through Indianapolis, where we had to change cars for Louisville, Kentucky, and as the State Fair was being held at this time, and it being evening before our train would start, several of us concluded that we would get out and take in the fair.
    To my great surprise and delight, I ran into my brother Joe and sister Hattie, who with several other young people had come up from the old neighborhood to see the fair. I had not seen either Joe or Hattie for nearly two and a half years. Hattie, when I left home, was not quite thirteen. Now she was almost grown up to womanhood, and had a beaux.
    We pulled out late that evening, reaching Louisville, Kentucky the following forenoon, where for the first and only time in my life I got in jail. As we could not get a train before four o'clock that evening, four of us youngsters concluded to go out from the depot and see the city.
    We did not know that the city was under military rule, and after we had been looking around what we took to be the residential portion for some time, a lieutenant came along with his patrol and arrested us for being on the streets without a permit and took us to the city hall, before Colonel Bruce of the 10th Kentucky.
    We started in to plead our case, and I thought were making a good impression, when Col. Bruce turned to the Lieutenant and asked him where he found us. The lieutenant said it was down on Lafayette Street in front of Madame So-and-So's. At that the colonel smiled and said, "Boys, I guess I will have to keep you."
    As we learned afterwards, the street where we were was notoriously bad. Anyway, the guard took us back two or three doors, all of them guarded by a soldier or two, and put us in a large room with a score or two of city bums, mostly drunks.
    Soon we began talking among ourselves as to how we were going to get out. Finally, I went to the door and had a talk with the guard, and he told me that he got off guard in about half an hour and I gave him $2.00, to take a note from me to our Colonel, which he did.
    Soon the colonel came and demanded we be released at once. Colonel Bruce told our colonel that he would take his own time, at which our colonel told him that if he did not let us out within five minutes, he would go back to the station and bring down a company or two and take us out by force. At this threat Colonel Bruce let us out at once. Of course, what happened between the two colonels was told to us afterwards, but anyway we got back to the depot in time for the train.
    The next morning we were at Nashville, Tennessee and after a few hours delay we continued on our journey to Bridgeport, fifteen or twenty miles from our destination. We left the train at this point, and took up the march to Chattanooga, where Rosencran's army was almost surrounded.
    It was now night and after marching eight or nine miles we came upon a division of the enemy which had come over Lookout Mountain, crossed the Tennessee River. No doubt for the purpose of destroying the railroad, which would have shut off our army from their only source of supply. In other words, their "cracker" line.
    However, after some little fighting in the dark, the enemy withdrew, crossed back over the river and took position atop Lookout Mountain. This was in November 1863, and it became our task to protect the Railroad (Louisiana and Nashville R.R.) so that supplies reached the troops, which besides our two corps consisted of about 35,000 men. Our brigade was sent back and stationed along the railroad. Our regiment was stationed at Tulahoma, a town of about seven or eight hundred, where went into camp for the winter.
    As a general reorganization of the several armies in that part of the South, General Grant's army from the Vicksburg district, as well as General Sherman's, marched across the country and joined our forces. The 11th and 12th corps were consolidated and made the 20th, and another division was added. General Joe Hooker placed in command, and General Sherman was placed in command of the whole army.
    While we were near Tulahoma, the government offered a bonus of $302.00 to all who would re-enlist for three years, or for the "duration of the war," to all soldiers who had served two years or more. I, with about one third of the boys, re-enlisted.
    After that we were given a thirty-day furlough and I went home, where I noticed a great change had taken place. Socializing and dancing were gradually permitted, so dances and other gatherings were arranged for our entertainment. We sure enjoyed it all and in fact we had a gay and delightful time.  Upon our return, as spring would soon be upon us, we were soon sent back to the front to prepare for the coming campaign.
    The southern army had also been reorganizing under Joseph E. Johnson. His army was stationed several miles south of ours, just back of a long sloping ridge. The title of our campaign became known as the Battle of Missionary Ridge.
    Our corps was selected to take Lookout Mountain, which we did. We marched several miles the night before, up the narrow valley between the Tennessee River and Lookout Mountain. We marched up the side, until we got near the top, where the fog was very thick.
    We got very close to the Rebel garrison before we were observed. The result was that they got out as soon as possible, leaving everything, including a number of cannon. They ran down the other side of the mountain so fast that all we got were a few prisoners.
    Meanwhile, the rest of our army fought General Johnson's main army, and General Johnson was defeated at all points.
    General Johnson retreated rapidly along the railroad to Atlanta, and we crowded him at every step. No stand was made until they reached Kennisaw Mountain, where they dug rifle pits and built breastworks, and placed artillery on top of the mountain. Our troops in the lead formed up and attacked them, but failed to break their lines. As night came on, firing ceased.
    Among those killed on our side was General Harker, from Ohio. On the other side, General Polk of Louisiana was killed. He was the Bishop of the Episcopal Church in Louisiana, and officiated at the consecration of my father-in-law Gay as a minister of the church.
    When we arrived we were lined up just behind the front line. It was quite dark. We succeeded in getting in position without attracting the attention of the enemy.
    In the morning however we found that he enemy had withdrawn. They did not make another a stand until they reached a small town called Cassville. They had pulled up some stones in the town graveyard to make their breastworks. Our division was in front, ready for the attack. For the first time in my experience, the band was just behind us with orders to play when we started forward. As we got near the Rebs we began shooting. They fired into us a few times and fell back, so it was not much of a fight.
    After some days slowly following the Rebs, we found them quite well entrenched just south of Resaca Creek. They had set up a long line of breastworks fronting a large open cornfield. Our company was deployed in front of our Brigade as skirmishers. Our lines were back in the woods, out of sight.
    As soon as we observed their breastworks we stopped the skirmish line and reported back what we had discovered. Our Colonel and our Brigade Commander left their horses and walked up to the skirmish line. After looking over the situation they began to get the Brigade ready for the attack.
    While we were waiting for the order to attack, Robert Barnhill went up to another of our boys and said, "How much do I owe you, $1.25, isn't it?"
    "Yes, but why bother about it now?" said the other.
    "Well," said Barnhill, "I have the money now and I want to pay it. Someway I feel my time has come, and I don't think I will get out of this fight alive."
    Sure enough, during the fight a piece of shell killed him instantly. This was the only instance of a premonition of death that I knew of among the boys.
    But to go back to where our brigade was forming for an attack on the enemy, to our great surprise their artillery opened on us, fiercely. The infantry came out of their works and made for us on the run. As soon as our colonel saw what was up, he ran along our line giving orders not to fire a shot until he gave the command, and their front line came through the brush within thirty or forty feet before he yelled "Fire!"
    I never saw such a slaughter in all my experience. An Alabama regiment was in our immediate front and we captured the colonel, their colors, a score or more of their men. Thirty-five or forty men lay dead, besides two or three times as many wounded. What few that were left started back on the run to their works. Many of them were shot down before they got out of reach of our rifles.
    Fighting continued along other portions of our lines for a couple of hours or so, when the army of the south retreated as fast as they could. Thus ended the battle of Resuca, we following them up, but they did more to impede our progress than they had ever done before, and we made slow progress.
    However, after a number of skirmishes and small fights, we arrived at the Chattahoochee River, where we waited a day or two while a bridge was being put across. I recall that while we were waiting, several of us went a short distance down the river and went in swimming.
    Just as were enjoying the swim in great shape, a couple of alligators came lumbering out of the brush and jumped in with us. Oh, you ought to have seen us getting out of there to the great amusement of those watching us from the banks. Among them were some natives who said the alligators would not hurt us and were of course more frightened than we were. But there was no more swimming for us that day!
    When we did cross and march on, we came to and crossed a small creek called Peach Tree Creek. After crossing the creek and marching on a half-mile or so we, as usual, formed a line of battle, stacked our arms, and were preparing to get dinner.
    To every one's great surprise were attacked furiously. Nevertheless, we sprang for and obtained our rifles and stood our ground. The Ist New York artillery, just behind us, unlimbered and began giving them shot and shell in great shape, and while there was considerable confusion at first, our lines were intact.
    About this time our Colonel Colgrove was badly wounded and the command of our regiment fell to Lieutenant Colonel Fesler, who immediately sent for and gave me the following instructions, "Get one of my horses from my orderly," pointing to where I would find him, "Go find General Ruger or General Williams and tell them that there is a long gap between the right of our regiment and the 14th corps, and to send some to occupy this gap or we might meet with defeat."
    The colonel's orderly and I got the horse and started and although the ground was quite sloping back from the front, and the bullets passing over my head, I felt quite squeamish, but by laying down as close to the horse as possible, l got along all right. I was going at full gallop, and when I got on ground more level, and the bullets coming nearer, the leaves and the twigs from the trees falling all about me, I began to think that my time had come. It was the first time I had been on a horse during a battle, and I then hoped it would be the last.
    However, I found General Williams and after saluting him, and delivering my message, General Knipe, being near, he called to him and asked if he had any troops not engaged. Knipe replied yes, he had the 46th Pennsylvania and a New Jersey regiment. General Williams ordered him to send these two regiments post-haste to the right of our regiment.
    Colonel Selfrage was in command of the 46th and asked me to go with him and show him. I rode with him, and when we got there noticed the enemy was passing through the gap. After explaining to the colonel the situation, he formed his two regiments and drove them back. I remained for quite awhile to see how the fight came out, and then started back to my regiment.
    I soon came to a railroad fence, which had been crossed over by these two regiments, and I noticed a pet raccoon on top of the fence, sputtering away for dear life. As I got nearer I noticed he had a chain around his neck, and the chain had caught on a rail. I rode up and reached out my arm and lifted him up in front of me, and I never saw a young animal so delighted.
    I took him to our regiment and the next morning a captain and a lieutenant came along looking for the raccoon. Seeing it they came up and asked whose ëcoon it was, they were told that it was Corporal Fletcher's. I had heard part of the conversation, and when I appeared, and after telling them how I came to have it, they told me that the ëcoon belonged to their orderly sergeant, who was killed while going over the fence, and they wanted to send it back to his people in Pennsylvania. I told them to take it and most welcome.
    The next day fighting continued on other portions of the line and those in front of us retreated out of sight. We continued our advance towards Atlanta, only some ten or five miles distant. Atlanta was well fortified and several forts were built, with breastworks connecting them all around the city.
    Although it took several days we finally got up near their works, and at night advanced our lines just out of range of their rifles. We worked all night throwing up breastworks for our own protection. By working at night had in a few nights a good line of entrenchments. Here we hanged for some time, the only fighting being one night the Johnnies came out of their works and attacked us.
    Our pickets stationed out in front saw what they were doing and ran and gave the alarm, the boys seized their rifles and got behind our breastworks in a hurry, and defeated them in a few minutes. But I knew nothing of it until morning, when everyone was talking about it. I was almost always a very sound sleeper and had slept through it all. Although there were three bullet holes through the tent where I was sleeping, I was not awakened. As none of the boys were the wiser, I never said anything about it until the war was over.
    About this time, the three years for which our regiment had enlisted expired and was taken from the line and sent home. Those of us who had reenlisted were assigned to the 70th Indiana, Ben Harrison's old regiment, who was afterwards elected president, and with whom I enjoyed a personal acquaintance. I will add here that the battle of Peach Tree Creek was the last battle of the war, so far as the command to which I belonged to was concerned.
    After we had laid siege to Atlanta for about a month, General Hood, who was now in command of the southern army, evacuated Atlanta and started back north, or rather around our army toward Nashville.
    After we had also marched for two or three days to head him off, we were called back, and General Thomas with three corps was left to look after Hood, while General Sherman with the rest of the army prepared for his march to the sea.
    Some days before Sherman started, however, several hundred from the Indiana regiment were given leave of absence to go home to vote, I with the others, so I went back home to vote, and before my leave expired Sherman left for the sea. However, l went to Indianapolis and reported to the Quartermaster General to see about transportation and was informed that they wanted all the men they could obtain to go to Nashville and join General Thomas to help defeat Hood. After explaining that my corps was with Sherman and I very much desired to get back to his army as soon as I could, the Quartermaster said that I had better go to New York and take the chance of getting on some of the ships that no doubt would be leaving that port.
    After he had given me transportation to New York, I took the first train to that city and reported to the Quartermaster General stationed there. He informed me a transport would be leaving in a few days for Hilton Head and Key West, and if Sherman's army had approached the coast would stop at that point. Enquiring about food for the trip, the quartermaster informed me that cooked rations would be put on board for the ten-day trip.
    But, when some days later I arrived on board the vessel, I found out there were several boxes of food, marked "10 rations", "25 rations", and so on. One box said "5O rations" and while I was thinking things over and wondering where I came in, and orderly appeared with a large cheese box with a slip of paper on top marked "Miss Etta-something". Thinking this was about, my size I picked it up and carried it to another part of the deck where I had left my things. I covered it up with a blanket and awaited results, knowing that the officers or the ship's captain would see that the young woman, whoever she was, had all that she wanted to eat during passage.
    After the ship left the dock, we had got well out to sea and night coming on, I became quite anxious to see what my cheese box contained. So I proceeded to open it up and found to my delight a fine lay out of good eatables, and proceeded to eat and eat, sampling most everything; the very thing I should not have done. With rough seas it would tend of itself to make me seasick, and sure enough the next day we got off Cape Hatteras, in one of the worst storms and roughest seas that occur on that part of the Atlantic. And, oh how sick I became, and the sickness stayed with me for several days, in fact, as long as I was on the vessel.
    The storm lasted for three days and one of the mates told us that it was about the worst he had been in, and that we had drifted off our course so far that it might take us twelve hours to get back. However after ten days out from New York, we reached Hilton Head, which is off the coast of South Carolina, where we learned that Sherman's army had reached and taken Savannah. We joined him a few days later.
    The city of Savannah is at the mouth of the river of the same name, where it empties into the ocean. The river is the dividing line between Georgia and South Carolina and we remained there a couple of weeks or so, and then marched up the river some forty miles or so to Sister's Ferry, where we crossed and entered South Carolina.
    Sherman's march through Georgia, South and North Carolina, with six army corps, was the only part of the south that had not been invaded by Union troops, and from this part of the south army of the south depended on getting their supplies. To cut off this supply was the real object of Sherman's march, so the army was spread out covering a strip of country fifty to sixty miles wide, and everything of public nature was destroyed, mills, warehouses etc, and all their railroads.
    For instance, a regiment or two would line up along the track and lift the ties and the iron rails up from their bed, turn them over and knock the ties off, pile them up, put the rails on top, and set it all on fire. When the iron became red hot, it was taken off and twisted and bent so out shape that it could not be used again. This work of destruction caused much delay and our progress was slow.
    Of course we had to live off the country we passed through, and it was arranged that one man would leave the company each day to go out and bring in food for six. So every 6th day I got my turn and as a rule we had very little trouble in finding all we wanted, as most of the plantations had provisions on hand to feed their families and twenty five to one hundred Negro for six months or a year.
    One day, when I was out getting the eats with several others, we stopped at quite a large plantation. We were the first Union soldiers the Negroes had seen, so they were very much interested in us. As soon as the head of our army come in sight, the Negro women lined up looking at it with their mouths open. When a thousand or so troops came in sight, one old woman turned to me, and said, "Did you'uns all have mothers where you come from?"
    Soon I began looking around for grub, going into the kitchen, and I found a ham in a large stove kettle and by sticking my bayonet into it, I found it to be well cooked, so I lifted it out of the kettle, and took it with me.
    But when I got out of the kitchen, the Negro cook came a running, saying, "Good Lord, Mister, that's for the missus dinner."
    "Oh," I said, "We want this for our dinner, you cook another one for the missus."
    So my five mates and I enjoyed the cooked ham.
    It was no trouble to find plenty of food, until we got to a large stretch of what is known as the Pitch Pine Country, where most of the rosin is made. This part of our trip was across very sandy land, and settled by those who are generally called poor whites, and about all they can raise is goobers (Peanuts) and yams (Sweet potatoes) and chickens, so we lived for some time mostly on chickens.
    All this time the Confederate General Johnson had picked up a small army of four or five thousand, and at a small town, Aversborough, NC, turned on the head of our columns and they had quite a little fight. This I remember was the last battle of the war worth speaking of.
    Soon after this we got well up into North Carolina to Goldsborough. This railroad town had been in our possession for sometime; it was held by a division of colored troops, the first I had seen. Sherman's army, continued on for forty or fifty miles to Raleigh, the capital city of North Carolina, arriving about April Ist, 1865. We remained there a few days when we heard of the fall of Richmond and the surrender of Lee's army to General Grant and General Sherman.
    Negotiations were then going on at Durham Station, some twenty miles from Raleigh, for the surrender of General Johnson, and when we were all feeling good knowing the war was over, and we would soon be headed for home, like a clap of thunder from a clear sky, we heard of the assassination of President Lincoln. This took all the exuberance of spirit out of us all, and for the next day or two the boys went quietly about, as though they had lost their dearest friend.
    However, in a week or so, Johnson and Sherman concluded the terms of surrender. We received orders to prepare to march to Washington City. I had noticed some railroad trains every day pull out for the coast loaded with soldiers. Upon inquiry, I found they were boys mostly on the sick list, and I did not want to make the long march four to five hundred miles mostly through Virginia, where I had marched and fought, I began scheming to go by water.
    With the help of a friendly assistant surgeon, I got on the sick list, went by rail to Newburn on the coast North Carolina, where we spent several days loafing around seeing the sights of this little coast city. Finally we were informed that a small tug boat with two barges would start in a few hours for Norfolk, Virginia and as many as wanted could go. The tug was loaded, and each barge would hold about fifty, which we soon filled up to capacity. We started and soon ran into Pamlico Sound, then through Albemarle Sound to the Chismal Swamp which is thirty five to forty miles across. A canal had been there took us to Elisabeth River, which was navigable and emptied into Chesapeake Bay at Norfolk. We were about two days making the trip to Norfolk, where we loafed for a few days more.
    While a companion and I were walking around we noticed a sign "Christian Commission" and while I knew that this commission had been formed by the Northern Methodists to help out the needy soldiers, this was the first I had seen of them. We went in and after talking with the manager for a time; he gave us new suits of underwear and two pair of socks each, which we needed badly.
    While we were going about the small city, we wanted a drink of water, and saw no sign of it anywhere. We inquired and found there were no wells or cisterns; water was caught from house roofs and kept in large wooden vats, and sold by dealers at a dollar a barrel or five cents a drink or pint. This was a new one on us!
    In a few days we found a vessel going to Washington City, which we boarded, reaching there about the same time as Sherman's army. We soon joined our regiment and prepared for the Grand Review, before the President and several hundred of the most prominent general cabinet officers, ministers of foreign countries, governors of states, as well as most United States senators and members of congress.
    A balcony had been erected the full length of the President's mansion, which is located on Pennsylvania Avenue, about 3/4 of a mile from the capitol buildings, on the same avenue for the reviewers. Also reviewing stands were erected on both sides of the avenue, from the White house to Capitol Hill for the general public. After about three weeks waiting while all the troops in that part of 'he country were gathering, the Grand Review was on, which was by far the greatest military display ever made in this country. There were approximately 300,000 in all branches of service. As arranged, the cavalry and artillery marched first day, the Army of the Potomac the second day and Sherman's army the third day. It took three days to pass by reviewing stand at the White House from Capitol Hill, from where each day the parade started, and as we reached the last day, we were on-lookers the first two days.
    There was a common saying in the army among the infantry cavalry for show, Artillery for noise, Infantry to do the killing. For sure, that first Memorial Day parade, May 25th, 1865, wiII long be remembered. In the cavalry there were about 25,000, they and their mounts in perfect condition, with drawn swords shining, officers with their red sashes and cocked hats looking superb. They were followed by the artillery of 1,000 cannon of all sizes, six horses for each piece, each being followed by the ammunition wagon, hauled by six horses, and a rider to each span of horses. They made a fine appearance with their 10,000 horses and the 25,000 horses in the cavalry, all in shining equipment. It was sure a sight to look at.
    The Army of the Potomac occupied the second day, and our army, Sherman's, the third day. Before we started down Pennsylvania Avenue we were formed in line back of Capitol Hill in solid column, that is ten companies of a regiment were placed in two columns, reaching about two thirds of the way across the wide avenue, one company placed about twenty feet back of the first and so on. In this way a regiment would only take up about two hundred feet. After we had marched by the reviewing stand, we kept on north through the city, to near the depot, where after a few days we took passage to Louisville, Kentucky where we were discharged.
    There was such a demand for transportation that it was several days before we got away. Finally a train of boxcars and coal cars was backed up and we proceeded to clamber aboard. This took us to Benwood, West Virginia, about two hundred miles, where we changed to a branch road running to Parkersburg, West Virginia, to take boats down the Ohio River to Louisville. While we were waiting a couple of days for the boats, we put in a large part of the day swimming in the river.
    When we got to Cincinatti, the boat stopped for a few hours. Knowing that brother Isaac's regiment was just across the river at Covington, Kentucky, I left the boat to see him. I had not seen Isaac for about seven years, as he had gone to Colorado three years before the war began and enlisted from that state. He was not only somewhat surprised, but seemed delighted to see me. That night, at his suggestion we crossed the river and took in Cincinnati, going to the theater and other places of amusement. The next morning, when we parted he going back to his regiment-he asked me how I was fixed for money. I told him we had had no pay for several months and had but a little. Consequently, he took out his book and handed me $35.00,which I was very glad to get.
    I remained in the city two or three days longer, before taking a boat for Louisville, where I found our boys in camp, waiting for our muster-out rolls to be made. This could have been done by the company in a week or ten days at most. But nearly a month passed and the rolls were not completed. The officers were having a good time and getting good pay, and were in no hurry.
    Finally two or three thousand the boys got together, selected a spokesman, and marched to General Logan's headquarters and laid the matter before him. Whereupon he issued an order to all the officers to complete their work at once.
    In a few days the rolls were completed we were on our way to Indianapolis, where arrangements been made to give us a public reception, when the time. There being several other regiments, we were lined up he large public square, where the bands were playing.
    First, Governor Morton delivered a speech of welcome, General Sherman also spoke, extolling our service for our country, and James Buchanan Read recited the poem he had composed, "Sheridan's Ride." I will add here that long after General Sheridan's death, at the Military Academy at West Point, the upper-classmen used to make his son, then a cadet, ride a broomstick, and recite "Sheridan's Ride."
    After our reception was over we were marched back to camp, given our discharge and pay, but we hardly realized we were out of the service. I remember that one of the boys remarked that he had been sworn into the service, and he thought they ought to swear him out. After bidding one another goodbye, we separated, very few of us ever to meet again.
    The next morning, July 22,1865, I started for home on foot. Many wagons passed me, all inviting me to get in and ride. Finally I accepted an offer, but after a couple of miles or so, it shook me up, so I got out and walked the rest of the way home: thirty miles. I reached home before sunset.
    Mother had been expecting me for some days, and had gone to considerable trouble to arrange everything for my comfort and pleasure. I was sorry that I could not, at once, fall into my pre-war habits such as sleep on a feather bed or eat of the many nice things she had on hand. But I could not get proper rest on a feather bed, having slept on a floor or on the ground for so long, and I had quite lost my taste for goody-goody things to eat. Only just the plainest food suited me at the time. However, it was not long before I got all over this, and came to enjoy the good comfortable beds and the good eats.
    I was then not quite twenty-two. One more happenstance, and my war story will be completed.
    Around our neighborhood, during the war, were a number of young men whose sympathies were with the south, who had committed many depredations, mostly in Kentucky, by making raids on Union men, taking anything of value that they could lay their hands upon. In one instance they broke up a Church meeting in the neighborhood.
    A fine young man named Luke had wanted to go to war when we did, but could not on account of his mother being a widow, and three young sisters to take care of. He had married and built a house on is  mother's farm, and had invited several of the boys that had returned from the war, to a dance. In fact the party was for us.
    Anyway, just after the dance had gotten underway, in walked five of these toughs. One walked up to one of our fiddlers, snatched his violin out of his hands and when the fiddler protested, knocked him down. All of them, in fact, were cursing us for all they could think of and for not inviting them to the party.
    We got the girls out of the house and out of danger, and took up the matter with the noisy interlopers. Our spokesman was telling them that they had to behave themselves or get out, at which one of our boys hauled off and knocked one of them down.
    It looked like a general fistfight, when someone let loose with a revolver. Others drew their revolvers. The first one to fall was their leader, Dick Scroggins, a bullet hitting him in his breast, and another was shot through one of his hands. Then they began to beg for mercy, and we gave them five minutes to get their team and pull out, which they did.
    We helped put Dick in the wagon. He was badly wounded, but in time got over it. The women and girls, having all returned, the dance was taken up again, and lasted most of the night. But that was not all of it. To my surprise a few days later the sheriff of the county with quite a large posse of deputies made his appearance with warrants for our arrest. We were charged with inciting a riot. I assisted the sheriff in getting the boys together, and I also advised him to send his posse home, which he did.
    The next day we all rode to Martinsville, employed a lawyer, who advised us to waive preliminary examination and give a bond of $500 and to appear at the next term of court, which we did. Scores of friends contributed to our bonds.
    A month or so later, when court was in session, our case was taken up and after hearing the evidence we were acquitted. The main point on our favor was the fact that we were there as invited guests, while Scroggin's outfit were not invited and had no business there. This was the only time in my long life, being at this writing well along in my 88th year that I was arrested or charged with crime.