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After leaving Strawberry Plains at
night, we reached Newmarket, Tenn.,
early on the morning of the 22d, got
breakfast, and crossing the Holston
river at Nancy's Ferry, proceeded to
Bean's Station, where we arrived that
evening. Here we learned that Gen.
Wilcox, who was guarding the Cumberland
Gap with a brigade of Indiana troops,
had blockaded the road through the Gap
of Clinch Mountain. We rested here and
procured some food for the men and feed
for the horses. Sending the mounted men
and wagon-train under Lieut. Ferguson
via Powder Spring Gap, the remainder
passed around the blockade, crossed the
Clinch mountain and Clinch river and
halted four miles from Tazewell, Tenn.
Here we procured some supplies and moved
up to Tazewell, where we camped for the
night, the 23d of November.
On the 24th we reached the highest
elevation of the Cumberland Gap, where
we remained all night without food. Here
a stone was pointed out that was said to
mark the place where the three
States—Tennessee, Kentucky and
Virginia—touched each other. Leaving
here on the morning of the 25th we
marched all day in a cold, drizzling
rain, wading streams, with nothing to
eat, cold, wet, hungry and tired, we
reached the Cumberland river, crossed at
Cumberland Ford, and went into camp. It
was still raining, and the men sought
shelter under the projections of ledges
of rocks, and having procured scanty
rations of corn-meal and pork, baked
bread on flat rocks, or fried the dough
in grease and ate it with much relish,
only regretting they did not have more
of it. We resumed our journey the next
morning, marching a few miles to an old
mill where we secured a further supply
of corn-meal and finished our breakfast,
moving in the afternoon to within a few
miles of Barboursville, Ky., where we
remained over night, still subsisting
mostly on cornmeal. This road had
recently been traveled over by
Burnside's army, and stripped of
everything for several miles on each
side of the road. On the 27th we
straggled into Barboursville, where we
drew bread and meat and fared
sumptuously. We were joined at this
place by our horsemen and wagon-train.
Quite a number of our men had taken sick
from the exposure of the march. They
were quartered in an old building and
cared for as well as possible. In the
night this building caught fire,
creating some alarm and excitement, but
the flames were extinguished without
serious results.
Leaving Barboursville the 28th nothing
occurred of interest on that day, or
until we reached Camp Pitman, in a
snow-storm, on the evening of the 29th
and went into camp in an old field full
of dead trees, which the men began to
cut down for firewood It must be
remembered we were without tents and
poorly clad, and only such blankets as
we had brought with us from home. After
cooking our suppers, and weary from long
marching, the wet ground offered poor
accommodation for a night's repose ; and
from appearances our covering was to be
"the beautiful snow." However, we
divided into quartettes and prepared to
make the best of our unpromising
situation. Some one suggested that we
try the "Buntin Plan," and explained
that Buntin had been a great bear
hunter, and in bad weather would build a
fire before night to dry and warm the
ground, then move the fire and make his
bed where the fire had been. So our
party fell into the plan, removed our
fire some distance, scraped away the
coals and ashes, then spread down our
blankets, removed our coats for pillows,
and lying down with other blankets over
us, soon went to sleep. We slept soundly
for awhile, but waking up in the middle
of the night we found the steam from the
hot ground had given us a "Quaker bath."
Our clothes were wringing wet. There was
nothing left us now but to get up and
shiver around the fire, turning first
one side and then the other, while the
cold wind pierced us through and
through. The mistake we made was that
the fire should have been removed long
enough to give the hot steam time to
escape before lying down. We long
remembered our experience with the "Buntin
plan," but never repeated the
experiment.
We left Camp Pitman the next morning,
November 3oth. crossed Wild Cat Mountain
and the river of the same ferocious
name. Roads were terrible, and the dead
mules left by Burnside's wagon-train
were innumerable; for miles we were not
out of sight of their carcasses. These
were the first dead mules some of us had
ever seen, and we had thought these
long-eared quadrupeds were almost
immortal.
The following day, December 1, we
reached Mount Vernon, Ky., and on
December 2d the Crab Orchard, a very
pretty little town. Some of us when
approaching this place thought of the
section of country in Carter county
bearing that euphonious name. Here we
procured supplies and rested for the
night. The 3d we reached Lancaster, Ky.,
where we met Lieut. D. P. Wilcox, of the
zd Tennessee Mounted Infantry, who had
been severely wounded at Mill Springs,
Ky., and was now, with his family,
living temporarily at Lancaster. We
finally reached Camp Nelson on the 4th
day of December, 1863. This was indeed a
haven of rest to weary pilgrims. On our
march some of our men had to be left on
the way sick, one or two never to join
us again. Many took sick at Camp Nelson
after this mid-winter march. Here we
hastened to build Winter quarters, drew
rations regularly and were paid for two
months service, and twenty-five dollars
bounty. Our condition was now
comparatively pleasant. Our greatest
anxiety was for our folks at home.
Knowing that Longstreet was wintering in
East Tennessee with his large army, and
that our people were still being
harassed by the rebel soldiers.— knowing
too, that they were deprived of all the
luxuries, and many of what was
considered the necessaries of life, we
could scarcely see how they would get
through this dreadful Winter. But for
this we would have been comparatively
happy.
The 4th Tennessee Infantry was at Camp
Nelson, and among them we found many
Carter and Johnson county friends which
was a source of great pleasure to us.
Among these were L. F. Hyder, D. A.
Taylor, F. S. Singletary, Allan Blevins
and many other Carter county friends.
The cold New Year's day of 1864, long
remembered as the coldest day ever known
in that climate, found us snugly
ensconced in our winter quarters, but
the cold was so extreme that all
suffered, more or less; and it was
reported that a number of men, teamsters
and others, who were out in the rain the
previous day, froze to death that night.
One sad incident occurred in our camp.
Major McClellan, of Greene county,
Tenn., who had been trying to effect an
arrangement to secure a position in our
Regiment, had put up a tent and he and
his son, Oliver, occupied it. The Major
had left a few days before on
recruiting, or other service, leaving
the young man to occupy the tent alone
on the cold night of January 1st. In the
night the young man, Oliver McClellan,
awoke almost frozen and went to Lieut.
Conkling's tent. Doctor Cameron
administered stimulants and sent him to
the hospital, and tried in every way to
save him, but he died during the next
day. He was a bright, intelligent youth,
16 or 17 years old. His sad death, away
from home and friends, was much
regretted. |
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