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Part Second
Third Part
Situation in Indiana
Personal Narrative
Libby Prison
At Home
Battle of Resaca
Battle of New Hope Church
BATTLE OF CULP'S FARM
Battle of Kennesaw Mountain
BATTLE OF PEACH TREE CREEK
CAPTURE OF ATLANTA
SHERMAN'S MARCH TO THE SEA
THE ARMY CROSSES THE SAVANNAH RIVER
BATTLE OF AVERYSBORO
BATTLE OF BENTONVILLE
THE GRAND REVIEW
HOME, SWEET HOME
MY TRAVELS
SUMMING UP
Joseph Galloway's Own Story of His
Life with an Account of His
War Record.
PART FIRST.
I was born October 19, 1840, in Fountain County,Indiana. My father, Samuel Galloway, war born in New York
and my mother in Pennsylvania My grandfather on my father's side was born in Scotland and moved to this
country in an early day, settling among the first in New York. There were five brothers of the family and,
strange to say, each one chose a different state in which to settle. One in New York, one in Pennsylvania, one
in Maryland, one in North Carolina, and one went to California.
This spread the name pretty well in the United States.
My grandfather on my father's side was a Newlight preacher. He emigrated to Ohio in an early day, being,
amongst the first settlers of that great state, and brought with him my grandmother (his wife) and seven children.
A short time afterwards grandfather went back to New York on a preaching tour. In those days it meant something
to be a preacher or a Minister of the Gospel, as their pay was very limited. They received no salary, all
they got was the small collections and an occasional donation. They had to travel mostly on horseback and often
on foot. He was said to be a very strong man and believed in working purely for the good of the cause and not
for pay. While on this arduous tour he took sick and died, leaving my grandmother with her family of small
children almost to the charity of the world, in a new country with scarcely anything except her own hands
and a willing heart. We can imagine what a task that must have been for her, hardly knowing what to do. Having
heard of an organization known as the Shakers, in that state, where a woman by joining the organization could
take her family and raise them, she decided to join them. They all had to work and their labors were directed
to the building up of their institution. They all received enough to eat and wear, but they had no chance
for an education and all the instruction they received was by the fire light in the evening after their day's
work was done. My mother's name was Prudence Manning; nothing is known of her relatives. She was an orphan
child and was also raised by the Shakers in the same community with my father and under the same disadvantages.
My grandmother raised all of her children there and remained with the Shakers the balance of her days, a
firm believer in their faith. She lived to be eight-two years old and enjoyed the best of health up to the
time of her death which came very suddenly and with but little suffering.
The Shakers had a very strange belief, not at all in accordance with our views. They did not believe in
getting married, which did not suit the young people generally, so they decided not to stay there any longer
than they could help. My father and mother became acquainted, although the girls and boys were not allowed
to mingle together only when they chanced to meet as if by accident. They were not satisfied with the doctrine
and mode of living among the Shakers, and when they came of proper age, concluded to leave them, which they
both did. Afterwards they became better acquainted and got married. They soon decided that the great west would
afford more and better advantages for young people than did Ohio and so they started west in a wagon which
was the only mode of travel in those days. They came as far west as Fountain County, Indiana, and thinking
that a good country, concluded to locate there. They bought an eighty acre tract of heavily timbered land.
There,they went to work and erected a small log cabin, which was the only house that could be built in those
days in that country, and when completed, moved into it. In this house I first saw the light of day. My father
cleared forty acres of this land and was getting, along very well though it was hard tussling. Money was scarce
in those pioneer settlements; there was no way of getting money then as we do now days. He had mortgaged the
land as was customary and had given his notes to be paid at different times in accordance with the mortgage,
and had made several payments, but sickness and reverses came upon him and he failed to meet his obligations as
required by mortgage. The mortgage was closed and the land taken from him. It was a very hard blow to him losing
the land and all his hard work, and everything he had. Clearing forty acres of land in that country at that time
meant lots of hard work for it was very heavy timber. He then moved to Warren County, Indiana, and rented
a farm for three years. In the meantime my mother had taken sick and was sick for three years. In 1846 my
father bought another piece of land in the west part of Warren County, Indiana, which was prairie. This
land was bought from a man that was more generous. He told my father to go on the land and go to work; he
did not even require him to have a mortgage, but go on to it and go to work and pay for it as he could. He
went to work, erected a log house upon this land, and moved into this house in the spring of 1846.
My mother was still sick at this time; she had to be moved there on a feather bed; so you see we were having
a hard time generally. My mother recovered at this place and we prospered fairly well, paid for the land
and bought more. That was one time when a friend in need was a friend indeed. This man's name was Perin Kent;
he remained a friend of my father's as long as he lived.
When we moved upon this land it was a very wild region, clear beyond any settlement in that locality. Wild animals
of all kinds roamed the prairie. The wolves came so close to the house that they would sometimes stop and look
in at the north window. Deer could be seen at almost any time during the day, sometimes twenty-five in a bunch
crossing the prairies. Wild game of every kind could be seen flying through the air, especially in the Spring
and Fall. Sometimes the air would seem to be almost full of these birds,geese, crane, prairie chickens and ducks.
It was amusing to see them, especially the wild sandhill crane. They would sometimes settle upon a high
piece of land and it was really interesting to see them jump up and down as if dancing and having a jolly time.
We don't see such sights any more. We then saw nature in its primitive beauty. We rode in wagons sometimes
drawn by oxen, rode on horseback or went afoot,but were happy then. Today we ride in buggies, on steam cars,
in automobiles and will soon be riding flying-machines through the air. Now we can talk to each other in
ordinary tones across the ocean; in those early days we had to halloo to a man a quarter of a mile away to
get him to hear. What great changes during the last seventy years!
Upon this farm I grew to manhood. I helped my father improve this farm as I was the only boy in the family
old enough to help. This farm has proved to be a splendid piece of land, and to this day has never passed
out of the family, my youngest brother now owning it. There he was born and has lived all his life.
My school privileges were very limited. There were no school buildings, but schools were held in neighboring
houses paid for by subscription. Previous to the time that I was ten years old these schools were taught
by some one that could read and write. There were no requirements from a teacher beyond reading, writing,
and ciphering to the rule of three. There was absolutely nothing to excite ambition for an education. Passing
on through the natural course of life in a new country, with the inconveniences and hardships which naturally
come by living in a new country, I became used to a frontier life and rather enjoyed that kind of a life. I became
very strong and rugged. I had but little education and knew very little of books or the world in general, and
had always been kept at home. What little education I have has been picked up from time to time, under the
pressure of necessity in a business way, and, through the common events of a busy life.
PART SECOND.
The civil war began in 1861. I was twenty years old. Now came a great change in my life. The future looked
gloomy for me. I had been studying the future of our country and realized that we had a terrible war on our
hands. Great excitement prevailed throughout our land. The war came on. I was young and strong and knew the
country needed my services. The love of the country which had been instilled into my mind by reading of
how our forefathers had fought to establish this free country of ours which I believed to be the best government
on earth and destined to be the leading nation of the world, prompted me to enlist as soon as I could get a
chance. I volunteered in July, 1861, and was mustered into service September 12, 1861, in Co. K., 33rd Indiana
Volunteer Infantry, to serve three years,and was discharged the 26th day of January, 1864,at Christiana,
Tennessee, by reason of re-enlisting as a veteran to serve during the war. I was finally discharged as Sergeant
of the Company, on the 21st day of July,1865, near Louisville, Kentucky, by reason of General
Orders No. 26, Army of the Tennessee (fated July 3,1865, on account of the closing of the war.
THIRD PART.
In writing up the history of my life as a soldier, I will not attempt to go into the full details, but I will
give a brief account of the different battles I was in, with the dates as near as I can; I will also, give dates,
of different places that I was in during the war.
The first of October, 1861, we left Indianapolis, Indiana, where we had been drilling and preparing for the
front, and went to Cincinnati, Ohio; then crossed the Ohio river and landed in Covington, Kentucky. From
there we went to Nicholasville, Kentucky, thence to Camp Dick Robinson and stayed there a few days.
From there we went to the Wild Cat mountains, where we took part in the first battle that was fought
in Kentucky. General Zollicoffer commanded the Confederate forces opposed to us. This battle was fought October
25, 1861, and resulted in a complete victory for our forces, with but a small loss to us, but quite a severe
loss to the enemy. This was a surprise to the rebels as they had been led to believe that we would fall back
on sight of them. They were mistaken, as we were there to fight, which they soon found out,by sad experience.
After this battle we moved south as far as London, Kentucky. We got there about the tenth of November, 1861,
and went into camp.
While in this camp, that dreaded disease, measles, broke out. I soon became a victim, as many others in our
camp did. Strange to say, but very few had had the measles before we went into the service. I was taken to
a room in town used as a hospital with a little straw on the floor for a bed, which was not like the good
old feather bed I was used to at home, and the worst of all I did not have my dear mother to care for
me. Zollicoffer, learning that we were nearly all sick with measles, thought he might be able to whip us, so
he appeared again in our
front in great force. Being so disabled with the measles it was deemed advisable for our small force to retreat,
and it was so ordered.
The army started on retreat and on account of not having conveyances for all the sick, I was left where I was
with twelve others, all very sick, not able to sit up. Two soldier nurses and a doctor was left with us. The
nurses not being satisfied to remain there to be captured went out into the country, gathered up two old wagons,
two teams of horses, found some old harness and rigged them up and came in. These were open wagons. They
loaded us in by backing the wagons up to the house where we were,
taking the endgate out and helping us in, all in these two wagons. They started with us between sundown and
dark to follow up the army which had gone before. We started on November 30, 1861.
The weather had been very fine up to this time all the Fall, but this evening it commenced raining and turned
cold, just as we were starting. We traveled in this way four days and nights, through mud, rain and snow.
At last we caught the army in camp at Crab Orchard, Kentucky. 0, what suffering. (Just stop to think for
one moment)-Out four days and nights in an open wagon with scarcely a dry stitch of clothing on our backs,
wrapped up in wet blankets, and not able to sit up, suffering with measles. The wonder is, that any of us
lived. Here we were placed in a little brick school house used for a hospital and here we stayed until January
1, 1862.
While at this hospital I gained a little and was able to walk around slowly, but had a very severe cough, result
of cold taken on the march. Again we were ordered to retreat; this time back to Lexington, Kentucky. This
was deemed wise because our forces were so disabled, there were but few fit for active service. There we would
have more conveniences and be better cared for until we could recuperate.
We started on the first day of January, 1862. I intended to walk but failed after walking about one mile, and
was picked up by an ambulance, the distance to be traveled being about fifty miles. When we got back to Lexington
I thought I would go into camp with the boys for I had become tired of the hospital, but I only stayed in camp
about four days. Snow was about four inches deep. I went right down with typhoid fever (resulting from the
cold I had taken in connection with the measles,)and was taken to a hospital in Lexington, a large Masonic Hall
which had been fitted up for that purpose. I was in a room where there were about seventy-five kept all
the time, as fast as one would die another would be brought in to fill his place. I have known as high as
fifteen dying in that room in one night. As fast as they would die they were carried out and placed in a room
that was called a "dead room." The next day they would be buried unless they were otherwise cared
for by friends.
Soon after I was taken to this hospital I became unconscious and remained so the most of the time for about
four weeks During this time I was given up to die by the hospital doctors, but for the good ladies of Lexington,
those "Angels of Mercy" who banded themselves together to look after the sick in the hospitals
and see that they had special care I think I certainly would have died. Some one of their number would take
someone that was very sick as their special charge to look after and care
for. Fortunately I fell in charge of a young lady by the name of Nannie Bush. Her father was a doctor, the best
in the state of Kentucky. She also had a brother who was a doctor. After the hospital doctors gave me up,
she could not bear to see her patient die without further effort so she prevailed upon her father and
brother to come and see if anything more could be done for me. They came and examined me; thought the chances were
very slim, but they would see what they could do. They took charge of me and gave me three doses of medicine
which they took the precaution to give to me themselves whenever the time should come. After they had given
me the third dose they examined me and said they believed they could save me, and they did. I want to say
here that I had a special nurse by the name of Hobart who was detailed by my Captain to look after and care
for me and no one else. He is the one who told me of the things that happened while I was delirious, otherwise
I would never have known what happened during that time.
It is most fitting here to say that my life was surely spared by the aid of this precious little woman, Nannie
Bush, by having her father take charge of me when he did. I certainly would be ungrateful, would not be
worthy of my name, if ever I should forget the kindness of this dear little woman and the whole family,
who so kindly gave me such needed assistance and every thing I ate for nine long weeks, something I could
not possibly have gotten at the hospital. In absence of my dear mother what a great comfort it was to have
such noble friends away from home in a strange land. I simply cannot find words to express my kind feeling
for this dear little woman and the family.
During this time my dear father was sent for and came, and when he came I began to realize that I was alive
and with friends. What a consolation it was for him to come. Unfortunately he was not long with me until his
health began to fail and he had to go home and leave me; he was sick all summer from the effects of this trip,
but I tell you it was hard for me in my weak condition to have him leave me under such circumstances
though I had the best of friends there. But I want to say "there is no place like home" when one
is sick. I got better. My regiment went to Cumberland Ford, near Cumberland Gap, about the first of April,
1862. On the third day of May I left Lexington; went through with some wagons, 160 miles, and joined my
regiment. When I got there the regimental doctor wanted to discharge me, he did not think, he said, that
I ever would be able to do service for my country again and that I had better go home. I prevailed upon him
to let me stay awhile and I would get better there in the mountains. I wanted to stay with the boys, and did
not want to go home, strange to say; it surprised the doctor. I soon got able for duty, and went clear
through the service without ever missing any duty, battle or skirmish, that the regiment or company was ever
in; but I was never again as rugged as I was before I went into the service.
Preparations were soon made to take Cumberland Gap. On June 5, 1862, we moved south as far as Roger's Gap,
a distance of thirty-two miles, where we were to cross the mountains into Tennessee, preparatory to marching
up on the Tennessee side of the mountains to take the Gap. On the 18th day of June we took the Gap; after
marching nineteen miles we found it had been evacuated. This was the first occupation of the Gap by the Union
forces.
Nothing occurred of interest until the 18th of July, just one month from the time we had taken the Gap. Then
the enemy began to show activity. On the 10th of August the Confederate forces under General Bragg made their
appearance in considerable force in front of the Gap, on the Kentucky side; on the 17th day of August we realized
that we were surrounded. We were at once placed on one-half rations. On the 26th of August we had a fight at
Taswell, Tennessee. To have surrendered the Gap would have transferred to the enemy thirty-two cannon, fourteen
thousand stands of arms, vast magazines of ammunition, and palsied the arms of ten thousand brave men who
had been seasoned to all the hardships of war. By the 5th of September our hardtack (bread) was exhausted, our
mules were dying of starvation, and the future looked gloomy. Further attempt to hold the Gap meant either
starvation or surrender. A council of war was determined upon, at which it was decided to evacuate, and preparations
looking to that end were hastily consummated. Everything possible was done to get away the sick, but quite a
few were left and many of them died in the bands of the rebels.
The Gap was lost as it was won, by a flank movement, thus demonstrating (notwithstanding its natural impregnable
position) that without a vast amount of supplies or without the advantage of open lines of communication it
was of no military value whatever.
On the 16th day of September, 1862, the order was issued for the army to vacate the Gap. Our regiment,
(the 33rd Indiana), commanded by our gallant Colonel, John Coburn, was, selected as a guard for the ammunition
train of the entire army. This was the post of honor and danger; if this train were lost, the fate of the army
would be sealed. We wound down the northern slope of the mountain, slowly and silently passed under the
clouds of mist which covered the valley and disappeared. We thus marched alone to Manchester one day in advance
of the army and in the face of great peril. Several of our heavy guns were made useless and left; the camps
were set on fire; the great depots, storehouses and magazines blown up. This being just three months after we
had taken the Gap.
We reached Goose Creek salt works on the 19th of September, 1862, where we found plenty of salt. Here the southern
army got most of their seasoning, but a few days before this time it had mostly been destroyed by our men.
At four o'clock p. m. on the 21st of September my regiment took up its line of march, and it now became evident
to the soldiers that the objective point was somewhere on the Ohio river, and that the march would be through
a section of eastern Kentucky that was sterile and unproductive, and at most would yield but a scant supply
of forage and rations for an army. As the army advanced, the difficulties increased a thousand fold by the rough
nature of the ground, and the danger of the train being precipitated over some precipice. To elude the enemy
and to shorten the distance as much as possible, a large area of country was passed through, over the uneven surface
of which no vehicle of any sort was ever before driven. Pack saddles carried the scanty supplies of the people
there to market and their grain to the mill. Rude bridle paths traversed it and these alone formed the mediums
of communication with the outside world. The supply of rations continued to diminish as the army advanced, the
farms yielding only an occasional patch of corn. Isolated instances of stunted cattle and a limited number of
"razor-backed" hogs, sometimes called "elm-peelers" were seen and confiscated. The pawpaw,
however, was generally abundant all along the route,and gave some nourishment to the hungry men. Each man had
punched his tin plate full of holes by the aid of a bayonet, which furnished the means whereby the corn was grated
into meal. This, mixed with water and stirred into a batter, could be baked into an appetizing hoe-cake, sometimes
on a board before the fire or in shucks, by putting into the hot ashes.
Orders were issued not to forage or ride in the wagons, but these orders could not be enforced as we had to have
something to eat, and many would give out and had to ride or be abandoned to the enemy.
On the 22d of September the regiment took up its line of march before daylight and went into camp on the Red
Bird fork of the Kentucky river. General G. W. Morgan, our division commander, was an ultra advocate of
protection to property even though its owners were disloyal to the government. On the 24th Proctor was
reached. At this place General Morgan issued an order that the men throw away all clothing except what was
on their backs. This order was cheerfully obeyed. After leaving
Proctor, the country was almost absolutely barren of forage of any kind, and for two days we had to make new
roads. On the 25th it took eleven hours to travel four miles. The following day the regiment marched to
the north fork of the Kentucky river. The road was very narrow and led up a hill along a precipice. With
great difficulty the wagons were kept from tumbling to the bottom. At a place called Cracker Creek, we had
a fight. Harassed as we were, our progress was very slow. This with the task of forcing the wagon trains over
the rough and tortuous roads through the mountains, often prolonged the march far into the night. For a
period of three days the army had no water except that found in stagnant pools, and the quantity thus found
was very limited.
On the 2nd of October, after a hard day's march, suffering much from heat and thirst, our regiment, with
the other troops, reached Grayson, Kentucky. When approaching Grayson, the army had been marching and working
for twenty-four hours without having tasted food and then we only got acorns which were plenty but not very satisfactory
for a hungry man.
At two o'clock a. m. October 3rd, the regiment again took up the line of march for Greenupsburg, Kentucky, fifteen
miles distant, on the Ohio river, the objective point of march. Here we arrived at nine o'clock p. m., completing
a march of two hundred and seventy miles in seventeen days, with no shelter at night of any kind and exposed
to all sorts of inclement weather. The march, in many respects, was one of the most remarkable that had been
made up to that period of the war. The men profited by it later on. The condition of things at the Gap, with
the scarcity of provisions along the line, the route to the Ohio river taught valuable lesson, in that important
feature of soldiering "Taking care of themselves." The loss to our army during the march in killed,
wounded and prisoners was about eighty men.
On Sunday, October 5th, we crossed the Ohio river in a ferry boat. While the band inspired us with "Aint
I Glad I am Out of the Wilderness," and when we placed our feet on Ohio soil and reverently exclaimed,
"Thank heaven, we are again in God's country."
After crossing the river the troops marched down to Wheelersburg, and thence to Sciotiville. The road was
lined with people who manifested a deep interest in our welfare. At Wheelersburg the Division was royally received
by citizens, who bountifully feasted the entire command. A table was constructed in the middle of the street.
We marched in two ranks, one on either side of the table, and helped ourselves as we marched by. It was a source
of inspiration to all of us.
On the 7th day of October we took the cars for Portland, Ohio, where we remained until the 14th, when we
were ordered forthwith to Covington, Kentucky. While at Covington we had ample time to reflect upon the
exciting scenes which we had passed through. The perilous condition in which we had been placed during
the proceeding six or more weeks. During that time we had been completely isolated from the north; cut off from
all communication with friends at home and the authorities at Washington. There was an entire absence of letters
and newspapers from the north. Not a word of information as to the condition of affairs was obtained in Eastern
Kentucky until we reached the Ohio river. We knew that we were surrounded and that the enemy in force was
making an apparently successful movement in Kentucky from the way the rebel camps resounded with cheers,
and from what news could be gleaned from some of the southern newspapers that found their way into our lines.
Beyond this all was conjecture and speculation.
The news was spread throughout the south that our whole army was shattered, demoralized and heart broken; that
we had been rolled back to the northern confines of Kentucky; that both Louisville and Cincinnati were threatened
and the loyal people of the north almost stricken dumb with amazement.
General Bragg's movements were bold, aggressive, rapid and altogether unforeseen by either General Buell or
the authorities at Washington. The true situation was soon realized by the north and troops were rapidly concentrated
in such force as to ultimately hurl Bragg and his army, beaten and demoralized, out of Kentucky, nevermore
to be able to gain a foothold within its borders.
Upon reaching Cincinnati we were in a deplorable condition, not having had a change of clothing for four weeks.
The men carried their own cooking utensils, and nearly all of us were destitute of some part of our clothing.
Some were without coats, some without shirts and many were either bareheaded or barefooted, What we had on
was ragged and dirty. Our condition was deplorable, and our appearance was pitiable, but we never despaired.
The order issued at Proctor, Kentucky, while on the march, that all surplus clothing be destroyed placed
us at the mercy of vermin that always seemed to be an unfailing adjunct to a poorly equipped soldier. The
appearance of the men aroused a sympathetic chord in the hearts of the good people of Cincinnati, who offered
many substantial evidences of their loyalty and good will. One man felt so keenly the destitute condition
of the soldiers that he took off his shoes and compelled one of our men to take them, both sitting on the curbstone-
one taking off, the other putting on the shoes. But generally, their offers of assistance were declined
with thanks, the men preferring to wait until properly clothed again by Uncle Sam.
The call for troops in 1862 brought to the fields numerous new regiments, many of whom were camped at Covington,
Kentucky, who noting our destitution and vermin-infested condition of our clothing, were stricken with horror,
and it was evident they had a suppressed contempt, at least, for our appearance. Interviews were held at
long range. They had not yet had the experience of a campaign, but their turn soon came. It was not long
till the soldiers of '62 became as bronzed, as seedy, and as vermin-infested as we who had preceded them in '61.
At this time the prospect of ultimate success to the Union cause looked gloomy. It was a year of reverses
all along the line, but there came out of it, after all, most excellent results. The patriotism of the loyal
North now became thoroughly aroused. While at Covington we were equipped with new uniforms and supplies.
On the 26th day of October we left Covington for the interior of Kentucky. Our line of march was in the direction
of Georgetown, which place was reached on the 30th of October. We camped until the 12th of November, when we
resumed our march, arriving the same day at Camp Henderson, near Lexington, Kentucky, from which point we had
started in the Spring for Cumberland Gap, making the entire circuit alluded to in seven months.
We had now become soldiers in fact as well as name, tested for over a year. Exposed to all kinds of weather,
tramping over mountains, through marshes under the most adverse circumstances, we had become thoroughly fitted
to perform whatever duty might be imposed upon us.
On the 13th of November we left Lexington and reached Nicholasville the same day, where we remained until
the 10th of December. From Nicholasville we went to Danville, Kentucky, were we remained until we were ordered
to Tennessee. From this point scouting, parties were frequently sent out to watch the movement of the enemy,
Nothing of very great importance occurred during our stay at this place.
On the 26th of January. 1863, we began our march for Louisville, where the army arrived on the 29th. Then
on to Nashville, Tennessee, down the Ohio and up the Cumberland rivers. Our fleet consisted of fifty-four transports
and six gunboats, besides a number of barges. The transports were lashed in pairs, except the mammoth Jacob
Strader. The gunboat Lexington took the advance, while another gunboat brought up the rear. The flagship
Prioress, containing General Baird and staff and fourteen paymasters with about $4,000,000 for General Rosecrane's
army was lashed to the Hazel Dell containing the signal corps, occupying the center. The column thus formed
was about two and one-half miles long.
The wintry weather made the trip decidedly uncomfortable to many of us, who were compelled, under the circumstances,
to occupy the decks. Upon reaching Fort Donelson the second battle was being fought at that place. Immediately
upon our arrival, four of our guns fired six hundred shells in the direction of the enemy. The fleet, however,
without any interruption beyond this, reached Nashville on the 7th of February. We disembarked and went into
camp near the city where we remained until the 25th. On this date we marched to Brentwood and remained there
until March 2, 1863
SITUATION IN INDIANA.
The political situation at this time (1863) in Indiana was in a great measure embarrassing to the Union
cause. The State Legislature was then in session and hostile to the Union cause. The Indiana soldiers not
being permitted to vote in the field, gave both branches of the legislature into the hands of their enemies, and
but for the wisdom of Governor Morton it would have seriously damaged the Union cause. From their actions, we
soldiers in the front were prompted to do something ourselves. We met in convention, organized, and passed
some very stringent resolutions. One was "Resolved that we stand ready at a call of the government
to go home, if necessary, and crush out all treasonable combinations which defame the fair name of Indiana."
We also denounced the legislature for not construing the constitution so as to permit Indiana soldier to
vote in the field, for depriving them of their priceless and inalienable right of self government.
So much for the conditions at home. Now let me resume
MY PERSONAL, NARRATIVE.
The battle of Thompson Station, Tennessee, took place on March 2nd. We were in camp at Brentwood, a station
midway between Nashville and Franklin. We received orders to move at once to Franklin, and arrived at that
place at ten o'clock at night; remained in camp all the next day (March 3) and at eleven o'clock in the morning
received marching orders.
On the morning of the 4th of March, 1863, we moved out to Spring Hill, Tennessee in light marching order.
We were in jubilant spirits, supposing that we were only going on a foraging expedition. The weather was
cool and favorable, and the road being turnpike the movement was made with great facility.
After advancing about four miles we were confronted by the enemy with two pieces of artillery and had an artillery
duel for about one hour, when one of our cannons was dismounted. Then the enemy fell back and for a time wholly
disappeared from sight. It was soon discovered, however, that the enemy's force was greater than was supposed.
We moved on about two miles and went into camp for the night. The men were ordered to sleep on their arms.
On the morning of the 5th we were under arms at four o'clock. At 10:30 o'clock a.m. we were posted on a
high piece of ground just north of Thompson Station. We were now within a quarter of a mile of the station
on the railroad. Just across the railroad on quite a little raise the enemy had a battery and was making quite
a display of fire works. It was soon decided to make a charge and take the battery. We formed our line
of battle on this high piece of ground north of the station and moved forward across a small corn field.
On reaching the railroad We discovered a high stone fence and behind this fence lay a very heavy line of Confederates.
Not until then did we begin to realize that we had been drawn into a trap. They raised up from behind the
fence and fired into our ranks. Seeing that it was folly for us to think of moving forward under the circumstances
we were ordered back to the hill from where we first formed. They jumped over the stone fence, followed us
right up, shooting us down as fast as they could; they also opened on us with the
battery we had attempted to capture. This together with the infantry firing, and the inconvenience of being
in the mud, three or four inches deep, made it very unpleasant for us, to say the least. They followed us so
closely that when we got back to the hill where we had formed to make this charge that we were compelled to
reform our lines and then turn back, which we did; but not until we had fixed bayonets and driven them back at
the point of the bayonet. We hurled them back a short distance, but they
came on again. This charging and counter-charging was kept up for six hours. Sometimes they would come so
close that they would capture some of our men and then again retire. The enemy at length having been driven
from our front at all points and silenced, our ammunition running low, we moved to the woods to our right
and rear. Here we again found the enemy in full force.
They occupied the entire slope opposite a deep ravine which lay directly in our front, and whose precipitous
sides it would have been difficult to ascend. We fixed bayonets and charged under a galling fire which
cost us some of our best men. We would willingly have made the venture without a shot in our cartridge boxes.
Nothing remained but to give the word "Charge." As Col. Coburn, our commanding officer, was convinced
that a massacre would ensue and that many would fall in a vain struggle for life with unequal weapons, it was
thought best to surrender, and we were prisoners.
We had been sent out on a reconnoitering or foraging expedition, as we supposed, by General Gilbert who was
in command at Franklin, Tennessee, and were ordered to Spring Hill without sufficient force as Gilbert must have
known and as our Col., John Coburn, found out after making the first day's march and he notified General
Gilbert that he thought the enemy was too strong for him to go ahead without reinforcements. General
Gilbert sent back word to Colonel Coburn to go ahead as ordered if he was not a coward. We were not cowards
and so we went ahead with the result as I have told it in this sketch. No braver man than Col. Coburn ever commanded
an expedition against an enemy.
The "Johnies" had a trap set for us and we marched into it. Come to find out the enemy's forces
were under the command of General VanDoran and General Forrest, men noted for their great fighting qualities,
and backed with a force of 18,000 men which gave them a decided advantage over us. There was only about
1,600 of us who were surrounded. While we were holding them back in our front, they had enough men to surround
us at a distance, so that we could not see what they were doing. They formed their line something like a horse
shoe and when we got in there they simply closed in behind us and held us there until we had exhausted our
ammunition. Thus they overpowered us and caused us to surrender.
We silently laid down our arms, standing in line with our depleted ranks while 'the enemy approached. Thus ended
the struggle. The formal words of surrender took place. In a very few minutes the gallant remainder, 1,221
in number, were marched from the field, leaving our dead and wounded to the tender mercy of the enemy.
General VanDorn asked the name of our Commander. He was informed that it was Colonel John Coburn of the
33rd Indiana regiment. He said, "I honor your commander and his men for their bravery, and you shall be
well treated as long as you are in my hands." But he turned us over to General Bragg's forces that same night.
LIBBY PRISON.
We were marched off the field leaving our dead and dying and wounded, something over four hundred. 0, what,a
sad thing that was, but there was no help for it, we must go. The rebel loss was said to be greater than
ours. We were hurried away and the march was continued in great haste until midnight when Columbia, Tennessee,
was reached, having marched twenty miles. The rations issued consisted principally of inferior cornbread,
but we were glad to get anything. March 6th, at early dawn, the march was resumed going into camp
near the village of Lewisburg.. A dreary rain added to the discomforts of that night. At noon of the following
day, March 7th, Selbyville was reached. We remained in Selbyville until late in the day and then went into
camp for the night a few miles out from town. On March 8th, we tramped to Tullahoma, which place was reached late
in the day, always under guard of course.
This march will be vividly remembered by all who made it. The country was flat, mostly marshy. The rains that
had been falling during the week filled the streams and overflowed adjacent territory; the bridges were washed
away and we were compelled to wade streams sometimes chin deep, and subjected to all the hardships imaginable-wet,
hungry, tired and prisoners. With little subsistence, loss of rest and sleep, our progress was exceedingly
slow and toilsome. Where were we going? Was it Andersonville? Was it Libby? We knew not; we could only
speculate and shudder at our fate.
Upon reaching, Tullahoma we were turned into a vacant lot like a herd of cattle; a lot that had formerly been
used as a corral for mules until the mud had become so deep that the animals had to be removed. The surroundings,
were gloomy and discouraging. With a chilling March wind, worn out from travel, drenched to the skin with
rain, poorly supplied with the necessary fuel for cooking and heating purposes surrounded by heartless guards,
is it any wonder that our courage almost failed us? Is it any wonder that we were awe stricken and inquired,
"can such things be endured?" Such evidence of malignity, such evident determination to humiliate and
physically destroy us, was rarely if ever, known before in civilized warfare.
How the night was passed it is hard to tell and harder to believe. But each little heap of smoking chunks was
surrounded with as many soldiers as could huddle about it, and while we took turns on our hands and knees puffing
and blowing the fire to keep it alive, others would form a circle, one behind the other, and as close as they
could get and march thus in close order round and the fire, the dense smoke of which would gradually infuse
a little warmth into the inside of the circle, and the tramping would keep up the circulation, and when the
side away from the fire became so chilled that we could stand it no longer, we would about face, bringing
the outside to the inside, and continue tramping round and round until compelled to change again. As we would
become exhausted we would slip out of the circle, one or two at a time, and tumble down on the little piles of
brush in the mud, and at once drop into an uneasy, unrestful sleep, but we had to be watched, and after sleeping
ten or fifteen minutes had to be aroused up and forced into line to keep from freezing.
About ten o'clock at night a half-pint of meal was issued to each man, but there were no vessels nor means of
cooking it provided. Some of us who had tin cups, dipped up filthy water from holes in the enclosure and
tried to make mush; to season this we each had a bit of bacon which we cut into small pieces and put in,
but there wasn't fire enough to more than warm it, and most of them ate their meal dry, and hungered for
more. Before midnight the rain ceased and it turned colder, and later on in the night spit snow, until by morning
the mud was frozen a quarter or half an inch deep.
The following morning we were to be taken on the train to Chattanooga, but before departing, both officers and
men were further subjected to the indignity of being stripped of their overcoats, leggings, knapsacks,
extra clothing, tin cups and everything that we had. This was done by the Provost Marshal under order
of General Bragg who commanded the rebel forces. Without a vestige of surplus clothing, we were placed on
flat or open cars and compelled to submit to all the inconveniences incident to that mode of traveling.
It was no pleasure trip.
After remaining at Chattanooga one day and night, at the request of Colonel Coburn, permission was granted
allowing the surgeons to look after the sick and those that were slightly wounded. All was done that was
possible to be done under the circumstances, yet a number died from their wounds and exposure.
The next place reached was Knoxville. Some could go no farther and were left there. Others by their haggard
look and decrepit gait showed that the hand of death would soon release them from their suffering.
We went on to Bristol, Tennessee, where we were taken off the cars to lay upon the damp and muddy ground,
recently overflowed by a creek. Here some of the dead were buried and the sick were encouraged to hold out
until a more humane community could be reached.
On arriving at Lynchburg, Virginia, we were quartered on the fair grounds in open sheds, remaining three or
four days. Here several died from the inhuman treatment they had received.
On Tuesday, March 16th, we left Lynchburg for Richmond. While enroute the train was delayed until the following
Saturday, the 20th, in the mountains surrounded by dense pine forests. During this time the snow had fallen
to a depth of twelve or fifteen inches, and we had no fire, no shelter, and the rations and water were exhausted.
On Sunday, March 23, 1863, just fifteen days from the date of our capture, the famous, or rather infamous,
Libby prison was sighted. Upon entering the prison every man was duly registered, and searched for money, arms,
and valuables. We did not expect to be treated like guests at a hotel, for the horrors of Libby had previously
been heralded throughout our army. The stories that had been told about the mistreatment of Union prisoners
had not been exaggerated; and we found ourselves crowded into that prison. The water used for drinking and
cooking purposes was reeking with filth; meats furnished us had to be frequently parboiled to relieve it
in some degree of the taint caused by decay. With the meat they issued some peas and flour to make soup. This
was our allowance for forty-eight hours, but all we received was consumed at one meal and we would feel reasonably
good for an hour or two, when we would become hungry again and remain so until the forty-eight hours had expired.
Once the water was cut off for two days, and as the pea soup had been made like brine, the effect was very
disastrous even to the strongest. Some died by drinking too much filthy water after the supply had again
been restored, while many more were made sick.
Not having any change of clothing and denied water for cleansing purposes, we had become so vermin infested
that it was almost impossible to get any rest and only then when nature would become totally exhausted. All had
the opportunity to write letters to friends and loved ones at home, but none of the letters were forwarded.
The guards as a rule, were insolvent; the stifling air, the contaminated rations of food and water and the
scarcity of even that, after having been subjected the previous fifteen days to cruel treatment by constant
exposure incident to the trip from the battlefield to Libby, it, was no wonder that many of us died. The wonder
is that any of us lived.
We were paroled on the 1st of April, 1863. On that day we were taken to City Point, via Petersburg. The boat
Metamora transported us from City Point by way of Fortess Monroe to Annapolis, Maryland. Here were again among
our friends and received a new outfit of clothing. I want to say here that when we arrived at City Point and
saw the flag of truce boat waiting for us, I thought it the most beautiful sight that I had ever seen in my
life. What a revelation that magnificent boat that was with the stars and stripes floating over it. It was
then I realized that I loved that dear old flag more than ever. The only way to really love the flag is
to fight for it. We went on this clean boat and were given seats-what a treat that was. Then they brought
around some boiled ham, some fresh bread and a strong cup of coffee. Some of our boys ate what was given them
and cried like children for more. Just think of it, men that had been strong being reduced in body and
mind, to sit crying for something more to eat like children. But the people in charge of this boat knew what
they were doing and told us that we would get more as soon as it would be good for us. So they might just as
well keep still.
Eighty-six out of our number died from exposure while we were prisoners. We left Annapolis, Maryland, about
the 5th day of April, 1863, and came by the way of Baltimore and Harper's Ferry to Camp Chase, Ohio; from
there we were sent to our different homes to stay until we were exchanged, this being the rule of war for a
paroled prisoner.
I was once more among my friends, the first time since I had left home, being gone about-eighteen months. To
say I was glad to get home don't half tell it nor express my feelings. My father, mother, sisters and brothers
seemed to be about as happy to see me as I was to get home and see them.
I got home about the fifteenth of May, 1863. I was exchanged and went back south about the 25th of June, 1863.
While at home I had some very unpleasant experiences with an organization known as the Knights of the Golden
Circle, an organization formed in the north and known to be in sympathy with the south. They had banded themselves
together for the purpose of aiding the slave holder's rebellion, which they failed to do, except to encourage
them and prolong the war, to the disadvantage of both the north and south. I with some, others got into trouble
with them at Indianapolis. We broke up their convention. Our trouble terminated in what is known in history
as the battle of Pogue's Run. We were also attacked again at Williamsport, Indiana, in our own county by the
same organization, The Knights of the Golden Circle. Our trouble at Williamsport was a surprise to us. Our
friends had given us a farewell reception before leaving. About midnight they came around the house where
we were and by the signal of a bell they commenced throwing stones into the windows and doors. The weather
being warm, the doors and windows were open. We realizing that something was up, broke for the doors, when
they fired upon us with their revolvers. They shot one of our men through the shoulder and also gave him
a scalp wound. I want to say we soon cleaned the streets, for we could shoot as well as they could.
The cause of our trouble at Indianapolis. This organization was very hostile to the Union soldiers. We
were given guns and ordered to guard the arsenal as it was feared by the authorities that they might burn
the arsenal. Some of us became restless and thought, we would take a walk up and go into the State House
yard where they were holding their convention. We had only reached the crowd when they commenced on us saying
that we had gone to war to free the negro, which we never did; we went out to put down the rebellion. Slavery
was the cause of the war and the slave holders began it. The negro war freed which was right because slavery
cannot exist in a free country; that great man, Abraham Lincoln once said, "Our country can not endure half
slave and half free." But at that time we did not understand that we went into the service to free the negro
and we would not stand for it to be insulted in that way and were about to kill the fellow that uttered
it but he ran away. To further insult us they went and got a man to make a side speech for our benefit.
They placed this man upon a box and two men jumped upon a box by his side and urged him to speak his sentiments
and they would defend him, they having a revolver in each band. He commenced, and such treasonable sentiments
we could not stand, so we said to each other, "We can't stand this talk, and won't, even if we have to
die on this ground." We broke for him; he ran and the two fellows guarding him ran too, and they were lost
to us in the crowd. We thought we would leave the ground and get out of that convention of rebel sympathizers.
We went back on the street and after being out awhile thought we would go back to the arsenal where we belonged,
and concluded not to pass near where the convention was being held for we would get into trouble if we
did. But there was a man that was hurrahing for Jeff Davis on the street. A citizen told us and we said "show
him to us." The citizen said, "Come and go with me and I will show him to you." We were taken
back into this great crowd of people and shown the man that had shouted for Jeff Davis. We broke for him,
which started the crowd on a stampede and they ran over women and children, knocked the huckster stand
all over the ground, and smashed the high board fence that was around the State House, but we lost our man.
Tom Hendricks was speaking at the time. We concluded that we could not stand his speech, there was too much
disloyalty in it, so we prepared to charge upon the stand through that great crowd. We loaded our guns and fixed
bayonets. Col. Coburn, who was put on duty that day to help keep peace, heard the racket of the stampede
and came over and got in front of us just as we were starting for the stand. He said, "Boys, what in the
name of God are you doing?" We replied that we were fighting rebels. "What are you going to do now?"
"We intend to kill Tom Hendricks." "What for?" "He has said too much; we cannot stand
it " "You must not do that," he said. "I cannot explain it away, you may be killed in
the attempt." I said to him, "We might as well be killed here fighting traitors as to go south to
fight them." He says: "Come on boys, and go with me. " I said, "Colonel, we will go with
you, but wouldn't go with any other man living. " He was our Colonel. We started away with him and the
convention broke up; they leaving in every direction, some on foot, some on the cars; one train in passing
our convalescent camp fired their revolvers into the camp. General Haskell who was in command of the city
at the time, ordered the train to stop upon hearing the firing. I went down to where the firing was with
the others and went through the trains. In the excitement they threw their revolvers out of the windows.
Afterwards we gathered them up to the number of thirteen hundred and piled them up at General Haskell's headquarters.
Some of these revolvers can be seen today (1910) in the show windows at Indianapolis. So you can see we
had trouble at home as well as down south. We went back to Tennessee, and did duty in various ways and
in many places, until the 26th of February, 1864, when we were discharged and sent home by reason of re-enlisting
in the veteran service for three years more.
AT HOME
My reception at home as a veteran soldier by my many friends was like that accorded to all returning veterans,
most cordial and sincere. We had been engaged in arduous campaign work for more than two years. The change
from the stirring scenes and responsibilities of active military life in the field to unrestricted delight
and comforts of friends for thirty days was a revelation and served as a stimulant to me. So spontaneous,
so real, so profuse were the greeting of my friends. Each and every one apparently trying to excel his or her
neighbor in friendly rivalry. It undoubtedly strengthened and encouraged me in the great work which I was so
soon to be called upon to perform again at the front. The furlough of thirty days however soon expired,
ah! how soon; the continuous round of pleasure ceased-to many of us forever.
From home and friends we plunged at once into the Atlanta campaign and in less than three months nearly two
hundred and fifty of our regiment had been killed or wounded on many of the sanguinary battle fields that
stretched from Chattanooga to Atlanta.
We left Indianapolis, Indiana, May 3, 1864, and reached Chattanooga, at seven o'clock p. m., the 6th, and left
Chattanooga the next day and went into camp on the Chickamauga battlefield. We were now in a new organization
known as the second brigade, third division, twentieth army corps. Our division being commanded by General
Butterfield. General Joseph Hooker was our corps commander; he was known as Fighting Joe. By experience we
realized this to be a true saying.
We wore the blue, five-pointed star as our badge. Moved out from this camp on the 12th of May, 1864, reaching
Snake Creek Gap on the same day. Before we could pass through this Gap we had to build two roads. It took three
brigades, about 8,000 men, to perform this work; but we completed this work by sundown the same day (May 13.)
Then Sherman's whole army commenced moving through this Gap. The army amounted to about one hundred thousand men
What a sight! A body of men destined to sweep through the heart of Georgia down to Atlanta, thence to
the sea and through the Carolinas. On the 13th we moved through Snake Creek Gap and took position near Resaca.
On the 14th, Saturday, in the evening we relieved a part of the 14th army corps, which was being hard pressed
by the enemy.
THE BATTLE OF RESACA
The battle was fought on Sunday, May 15, 1864. At ten o'clock a. m., we took position in front of Resaca.
Preparatory to making a charge on the fort, which contained what is known in history as the four gun battery,
we unslung knapsacks by company; piled them back in the woods and left one man to guard them. We did make the
charge but it was unsuccessful -charged right up to the fort under a galling fire of shot and shell; tried
to get into the fort but could not; they held us back with their bayonets. Then we changed and came around
another way, charged the rifle pits, meeting with the same deadly resistance.
Each charge failed and nothing more could be done than to hold the ground up to the enemy's breastworks. These
charges secured a position for us under the very muzzles of the enemy's guns. We silenced their four gun battery
which remained on disputed ground for the rest of the day. During the night the Confederate army evacuated,
leaving this four gun battery and fort in our possession.
The loss on both sides was very heavy. Our loss was more than it ought to be owing to the crowded position of
our troops. There must have been some misunderstanding on the part of some of our Generals. According to my
judgment, with the experience I had had in fighting up to this time, I thought it very bad plan to crowd more
men in a dangerous place than could do good fighting. At this battle there was certainly an unnecessary loss
of life.
On the 16th we followed up the retreating enemy until the 19th of May, 1864, when we again met them at Cassville,
Georgia, where we supposed a decisive battle would be fought, especially so by the enemy, as General Johnston
had said to his army: "We will now turn upon the enemy and give him battle." They did make a demonstration
at this place but finally withdrew, leaving Cassville in our possession with but little fighting. At five
o'clock on the morning of May 23d, we moved on toward the Etowah
River, reaching it at noon, the bridge being burned, the river had to be crossed on pontoons. The facility
which a stream could be spanned by a pontoon bridge was marvelous. This stream was about three hundred feet
wide and in less than an hour the pontoons were ready for passage. A rebel, caught up in a tree near by, watching
things, said: "Boys, you can beat us." Some one asked, Why? He said: "Because anybody that can
make bridges out of them d-d dog-tents could beat the devil." The pontoon was one of the most useful and
valuable auxiliaries of the army.
BATTLE OF NEW HOPE CHURCH.
On the morning of May 25th, about eight o'clock we moved toward Dallas' Woods. We advanced across Pumpkin
Vine Creek, where a furious battle was fought. It happened to be a surprise to both armies. We were in a
scattered condition, our troops first engaged fighting, about two hours, being badly disabled and out of ammunition.
In the evening we were ordered to relieve them, when we moved up within a very few rods of the enemy's
lines and poured a destructive fire into their rank, silencing their batteries completely, but under a galling
fire from their infantry.
The firing was tremendous and our troops had no works of any kind for protection. Grape shot, canister, rail
road spikes and every sort of deadly missile were rained upon us. As I now look back, I think and wonder
how men could go through such a terrible ordeal and any come out alive. Our loss was very heavy in this engagement.
On the 27th we moved our line further on and were ordered to build a line of breastworks. We were very much exposed
to the deadly fire of the enemy's sharp shooters, losing several men while thus engaged. General Sherman
and Colonel Coburn reached that part of the field and were very indignant over the loss of men in that way when
informed that the shots came from a certain old log house. A battery of guns was soon put into action and
the house demolished, when the sharpshooters disappeared.
On the 28th about seven o'clock, a. m., the enemy opened on our lines with artillery, using grape, canister
and solid shot, killing several of our men. On the night of the 29th the enemy made two unsuccessful charges
on our line. All day, the 30th, we were compelled to remain close behind our breastworks. On June lst we
moved out.
Each succeeding day the troops would advance a few miles, then throw up breastworks, generally while exposed
to bursting shells and the constant fire from the dreaded sharpshooters. So constant was the need of protection
that it is no wonder three hundred miles of rifle pits were constructed during the campaign. The movement of
the troops was made regardless of roads. We crossed many streams bridged with fence rails and often waded.
The woods were thick with underbrush, jack oaks, pines, etc, and portions of the two armies would frequently
get uncomfortably near without seeing each other, and both glad to withdraw without formality.
On June the 6th we took position near what was called Mount Olive church, in view of Pine Knob and Lost
Mountain. We remained here until June 15th, 1864. All this time we were under constant fire from the enemy,
and all day the 16th were under a heavy fire. We lost in our regiment, several killed and many wounded.
On the 17th the enemy fell back and we followed them up. On the 19th they did likewise, we still in pursuit.
BATTLE OF CULP'S FARM
Took place on the 21st, of June 1864. This was a severe engagement, in which our regiment lost thirty-five
killed and wounded. From the 3rd day of June up to and including the 22nd, it rained every day and almost
the entire time. We were also continuously exposed to the merciless firing of their sharpshooters.
We were now at a point three miles from Marietta, Georgia, and immediately,in front of the enemy's works,
which surrounded that town. The whole country was one vast extension of forts, and Johnston must have had
fully fifty miles of connected trenches, with abattis, all supplied with batteries. From the 24,h, to the
26th, we were under heavy fire day and night with constant loss to us, ditto the enemy. We lost no time,
always something doing. We took every advantage of the enemy we Could, we were there for that purpose.
BATTLE OF KENESAW MOUNTAIN.
This battle was fought on the 27th of June, 1864. We charged the enemy at this place and met with severe
loss, but we held our ground. The lines of the two armies was so close it was like the grappling of two giants.
On the 3rd day of July, 1864, the enemy evacuated Marietta and Kenesaw Mountain. In marching through these
works many "Johnies" were found sleeping in the forts and trenches. This day's work was one of the
severest of the campaign, the day being very hot and sultry, and the steeps we had to climb in the assault
we made was something frightful-too terrible for me to describe.
On July the 4th there was a false alarm; we were up and
ready but nothing serious resulted. From July 6th to July 17th the army was camped near the Chattahoochie River;
here we rested and prepared to renew the campaign. On the 10th the enemy evacuated the works in our
immediate front and crossed the Chattahoochie River; and in the evening the banks of the river marked the
skirmish lines of the two armies.
An armistice was agreed upon by the pickets who became very sociable, visiting each other, trading coffee
and tobacco and exchanging newspapers. I was on picket duty that day. One day a "Johnie" asked
who commanded the army across the river. "General Sherman," was the reply. "Well, he seems
to command ours too," said "Johnie," "for every time you are ordered to move we move too."
Another "Johnie" said, "Youns don't fight weuns fair. Youns go round and fight weuns on the end."
On the 17th of July we crossed the Chattahoochie on pontoon bridges where the river was about one hundred
and fifty yards wide, and was spanned by two pontoon bridges. By the 19th the entire army had crossed over.
BATTLE OF PEACH TREE CREEK
About noon of July the 20th, 1864, word came from our skirmish line that the enemy was coming in full force.
We were making coffee and trying to get dinners. General Coburn seeing the necessity of prompt action ordered
us into line without our dinners. To save my coffee I poured it into my canteen, thinking I might drink it later
on. We were moved through a thick piece of timberland across a deep ravine into an open field. There we met
the enemy in deadly combat, a hand to hand fight for four hours. Our left being a little behind, the enemy
pressed down on it and gave us a side as well as front fire which made it pretty hot for us, but we stood their
charge and finally drove them back, with severe loss. We too suffered severely as they had the advantage of
us on the start. After getting them started back we shot down many of them not two rods in our front. It is a
wonder to me that any on either side got through this fight without being either killed or wounded.
I will here relate a little incident: While we were driving the enemy, I passed by a Confederate soldier
who was mortally wounded. He asked me for a drink of water. I told him I had none, but I would give him a
drink of coffee if that would do him any good. I got down on my knees by his side and gave him a drink of the
coffee I had poured into my canteen before I went into the fight. He thanked me for the coffee, which I was
glad to give him. Think of it- shoot a man down, then do all you can to make him comfortable. Remember, this
was done during the heat of battle- and it was hot. I am proud of this act of my life. Though he was an
enemy, a man that would a few minutes before have gloried in shooting me down. But such is war. General
Sherman said, "War is hell."
It is my firm belief that if it had not been for the prompt action of Colonel Coburn and the co-operation
of General Harrison in this engagement the day would have been lost to us, which would have been a desperate
loss to our army at this stage of the campaign. It is utterly impossible to tell what might have happened,
as we had just crossed the river and hadn't had time to get our army in any shape. Rebel General Hood, who had
just superseded Johnston, thought he would take advantage of Sherman and whip us in detail as we crossed
the river. In this attempt he failed and so he did on the 22nd and 28th of July. In both we were desperately
engaged, with heavy losses on both sides, but victory was ours.
We now pressed the "Johnies" back and closed our line in and around Atlanta as far as we could. By
the 7th of August we were permanently settled in and nearly all around Atlanta. The lines were drawn so closely
about Atlanta that the city became a target for our long range guns which dropped shells into its limits
almost incessantly until its surrender thrive weeks later.
On the 9th of August there were about three thousand solid shot and shells thrown into the city, with
a constant firing of small arms, so terrific that it sounded like hard fighting all the time, both night
and day.
On the 24th of August fire raged fiercely in the city of Atlanta, to add to the horrors of the doomed city.
About midnight of the 24th we were ordered to leave our line and fall back to the Chatahoochie River and
establish a new line of works. This movement was made quietly and without the knowledge of the enemy. Companies
were ordered to withdraw one at a time. As we were taken from the line, the balance in the rifle pits were
scattered so as to make a demonstration and keep up a constant firing. This was done so the enemy would not
mistrust what our movements were. We were successful in this attempt and fortified the crossings at
the river. About ten o'clock on the morning of the 27th of August they came out of Atlanta and attacked us,
but soon finding that the main part of army was down at Jonesboro, Hood drew off and let us alone. By this time
General Hood began to realize what had happened, that Sherman had got in this position which cut Hood's communications
and practically shut him off from his supplies, causing him to come to the attack again. He attacked Sherman
at Jonesboro, and got beautifully licked. Sherman came very near capturing the whole of Hood's army here,
but owing to the darkness of the night he got away. The disastrous defeat of the enemy at Jonesboro destroyed
their ast hope of longer holding Atlanta.
CAPTURE OF ATLANTA
September 2, 1864, General Coburn with his old regiment, the 33rd Ind., and some other troops carried the first
flag into the city. General Coburn was met in the suburbs of the city by Mr. Calhoun, the mayor, with a committee
of citizens, bearing a flag of truce. The mayor surrendered the city saying, "We only ask protection
for persons and property." We raised our flag upon the court house. I am proud to record in history that
I was among the troops that raised the first flag in Atlanta. After going through one of the greatest campaigns
that was ever recorded in history, fighting, skirmishing and marching, for over one hundred days, having driven
the enemy all the way from Chattanooga to Atlanta, a distance of about one hundred and forty miles. It was the
most wonderful campaign in the war.
Going into Atlanta, was one, of, the greatest sights that I ever saw. They had, set their forts and arsenals
on fire; the magazines in the forts were blowing up and pandemonium reigned. They also had loaded their ammunition
on the cars preparatory to moving them out but were cut off and could not take them. There were hundreds
of car loads of ammunition and supplies. Rather than have us get this they set all on fire which caused
quite a commotion. The flames and explosions were terrific; to say the least, a sight that I will never forget
while I live. Thus ended one of the most skillful, successful and stupendous campaigns of modern times.
From its very inception its ultimate success, seemed to be assured.
SHERMAN'S MARCH TO THE SEA
The mind that is comprehensive enough to properly organize and equip a vast army and to conduct successfully
an aggressive campaign in a hostile country is deservedly entitled to great praise from a military stand
point. Thorough system is necessary in every detail. Divided into several smaller commands, properly
officered, the entire machinery, to be successful, must work together without friction. This may be said of
the organization of General Sherman's army in its "march to the sea."
We left Atlanta on the 15th of November, 1864, in the rear, blazing and smoking as an object lesson in the
realities of war. We marched all night and on the morning of the 16th rested only long enough to get breakfast.
The movement of the army was somewhat mystifying to those not in the secret. We felt that a long and exciting
campaign was before us, but our destination was uncertain; we supposed we were going to the coast, but to what
point was unknown to us. We knew that we had cut loose from everything-home, friends and all communication
with the world, and that we had to live off the country. Foraging parties were organized to get supplies.
The marching was rapid, continuous and very tiresome. Often we marched all night without a chance to cook
anything. We tore up railroads as we went along. This was done by tearing loose the rails, piling up the ties,
setting the ties on fire, then laying the railing on fire; heating the middle of the rails red hot, then
bending them around small trees and leaving them in that shape. This rendered them utterly useless until they
were made over. Sometimes when there were high grades we would upset the track and roll it down the embankment
for miles.
On the 23d of November we reached Milledgeville, Georgia. Many of our mules gave out, but these were replaced
by others that we got throughout the country. We left Milledgeville on the 24th. The difficulties of the march
increased as we advanced, owing to the swampy nature of the country. The fog and darkness together with the
cold weather, added to the weariness of the march. Torches were applied to the fences on both sides of the
road. These made a continuous blaze for miles, but gave us light to march by.
On November 30th we plunged suddenly into a swamp. This was the most serious obstacle of our march up to
this time. Darkness and fog rendered it impossible for the men to see each other. We could only be located
by sound. We marched through mud and water, in many places waist deep, often tumbling over each other and
sometimes had great difficulty in getting out of the mud. The 2nd of December we got reports that our foragers
were being killed or otherwise,brutally treated after being captured. But this was not unexpected as it
was in harmony with the advice of some of their newspapers, which we happened to get. They would say, "Let
all the old and young folks turn out and give the rascals a taste of Georgia State Sovereignty. "
On the 3rd of December we came to that horrible Millen Prison which had contained 7,000,of our brave boys as
prisoners. The stockade was eight hundred feet square, covering nearly fifteen acres, resembling very
much the construction and dimensions of Andersonville prison. It was enclosed with heavy pine logs, about
fifteen feet high. On the top the "sentry boxes were about eighty yards apart, and thirty feet from the
fence; a "dead line" was constructed of light scantling, supported on short posts. The prisoners
were turned into this pen without shelter, summer or winter. We found three of our boys dead here that had
not been buried. There was a long trench on the outside which had a board at one end bearing the inscription,
"650 buried here." On our approach these prisoners were moved ahead of Sherman's army, the most of them
front Andersonville prison.
From the 3rd to the 11th of December we marched from Millen to the vicinity of Savannah, Georgia, establishing
our lines about the city. The line thus drawn around Savannah meant the investment and early downfall of the
city. While we besieged Savannah we lived principally on rice. We threshed from the shock and hulled it
ourselves, it was about all we had to eat and often we had no salt to season it with. On December the 20th
the enemy evacuated the city. On December 25th, 1864, Sherman presented President Lincoln as a Christmas
gift, the city of Savannah, with one hundred and fifty guns and tons of ammunition, also twenty-five thousand
bales of cotton. While here we got our first mail from dear ones at home. This completed the famous "march
from Atlanta to the sea," a wonder in many ways. One thing that seems marvelous to me now is that we destroyed
265 miles of railroad track on this march.
THE ARMY CROSSES THE SAVANNAH RIVER
The march through the Carolinas was the next thing in order. We made several attempts to cross the Savannah
River but on account of rainy weather and the rebel sharpshooters we were delayed for several days owing to
the exposed condition we were in where we wanted to lay our pontoons. At one time our pontoons broke in the
middle and were swept down the river. Finally we took passage on the steamboat Planter, and were landed in
South Carolina. This was on the 2nd day January, 1865. On the 4th we camped in South Carolina where fortifications
were built by the Americans during the Siege of Savannah by the British in 1779. Here we could see landmarks
of our Revolutionary forefathers. Here they fought, in 1779, to establish this Republic, and here, in
1865, we were camped for the preservation of that Republic.
On the 16th of January we camped upon Hardee's plantation. On the 17th we camped at Purysburg, South Carolina.
On this very spot General Lincoln's army, during the Revolutionary War, was swamped while on its way to re-enforce
General Pulaski at Savannah. We continued our march with great difficulty; it was mid-winter and it rained most
of the time and there were many swamps to wade. It was very hard to get our supply wagons along. Corduroy
roads had to be built for miles. We had many
skirmishes with the enemy; very often we would be in water waist deep. On the 17th we camped on the west
side of the Salida River in plain view of Columbia, the capital city of South Carolina. Here I saw the city
burned-the enemy set fire to their cotton to keep Sherman's army from getting it, and so burned their own
city. I will say here that it is not true, as some historians claim, that Sherman's army burnt the city of
Columbia. We came up into the edge of the city and made an attempt to cross the river there, but we could not
lay our pontoons. We were lying just where we could see the whole performance and saw them roll the cotton
out into the streets and set it on fire, the wind blowing quite a breeze, and it blew the burning cotton all
over the city, and in this way they actually burned their own city. During this time Sherman's army was laying
its pontoons to cross the river on.
We continued our march right along under the same disadvantages until the 7th of March, 1865, when we crossed
the Great Pedee River at Cheraw. This place was a depot for their war supplies which they took from Charleston
upon its evacuation, caused by Sherman's army. Here we got twenty cannon, thousands of small arms and a great
quantity of ammunition, with commissary stores in abundance.
On the 13th we passed through Fayetteville, North Carolina. We remained in camp on the 14th and rested. Here
all the broken-down and worn-out mules were killed. During the entire campaign our army had been very watchful
of the movements of the enemy that no surprise might be sprung upon us; but now greater precaution than ever
was taken.
BATTLE OF AVERYSBORO
On the 16th day of March we had a hard fight with General Hardee. His force consisted of about 20,000 men. The
fight was quite severe while it lasted; in fact we thought we would all be killed, for Hardee had many more
men engaged than we. In this engagement they had the advantage of our scattered condition, as our army was
divided so as to march on different roads. But we succeeded in driving them back, and with heavy loss; strange
to say with greater loss to them than to us. After this affair we continued our march towards Goldsboro.
BATTLE OF BENTONVILLE
On March 19th, 1865, occured the battle of Bentonville. The division I belonged to was in the rear guarding
the supply train. General Johnston thought he would capture this train and our division by striking our
column just ahead of the supply train. We corralled our train, double quicked about seven miles, took position
on the left of a masked battery of ours in an open field for the purpose of surprising them and checking
their advance which was coming through a heavy piece of timber. When they got within proper distance this
battery opened on them and threw them into disorder. It was a great slaughter to them, and a comparatively
small loss to us. Their loss in both these engagements greatly exceeded ours. At this stage of the war
I think they were becoming discouraged which was no wonder. We were encouraged for we began to realize that
the war must soon come to a close. We had been successful for over a year and we began to think we could
not be whipped with General Sherman to direct. It is worth everything for an army to have confidence in their
commander.
On the 24th of March, 1865, we entered Goldsboro, North Carolina. On th 13th day of April, 1865, we reached
Raleigh, the capital, about three o'clock p. m. and went into camp inside of the enemy's earthworks near the
city. Johnston, finding that future success was hopeless, as Lee had surrendered, and as Sherman's army
was pressing him hard, on April 14th he suggested a cessation of hostilities with a view to ultimate surrender.
Thus ended one of the greatest campaigns that the world ever knew: Sherman's march from Atlanta to the sea.
386 miles of rail road destroyed on our march from
Chattanooga to Atlanta, from Atlanta to the sea and
through the Carolinas.
100 miles of corduroy road was built.
From Atlanta to Savannah 60 miles of corduroy.
From Savannah, Georgia, to Goldsboro, North
Carolina, 400 miles of corduroy.
From Goldsboro to Washington, D. C. 120 miles
of corduroy.
Total 580 miles of corduroy road.
During the time from January 3rd to April 15th, 1865, there were one hundred and seven skirmishes, eight
actions, two affairs, and two battles. Thus it will be seen that the two armies were closely watching each
others every movement.
Now on to Richmond and Washington, D. C. We left Raleigh April 30th, 1865. The thought of soon seeing home
and friends once more was certainly cheering to us. We traveled via Oxford, Granville County, North Carolina,
and camped near the Roanoke River in Mecklinburg County, Virginia. On the 8th of May we reached Richmond,
having marched one hundred and forty miles in nine days, and on May 11th we marched through Richmond. Here
ample time was given us to visit the notorious Libby, where just two years before I had been a prisoner.
It was now the chief center of attraction. Here we were subjected to the severest tests of human endurance,
through the slow process of starvation and exposure. Richmond was then the heart of the Confederacy, and the
works surrounding it bristled with bayonets. Now, what a change. White winged Angel of Peace hovered
over the land. The formidable works which defended the city, now dismantled and its defenders gone in the
gloom of defeat, subdued and humiliated. The doors of the prisons thrown open, while its victims stood before
it victors. I went through the building once more with mingled emotions of sadness and joy.
On the 12th of May, 1865, we resumed our march to Washington, D. C., passing over the battlefields of Chancellorville
and camped at Spottsylvania court house the night of the 14th, where some of the hardest fighting of the
war had been done. On the 19th we went into camp on the hills near Alexandria, Va..
Preparations were at once made for the Grand Review, and on the 24th we crossed the Potomac river on Long Bridge
and marched up through the city, passing the capitol building.
THE GRAND REVIEW
The review of the combined armies of Generals Grant, Sherman and Sheridan-east and the west-at the nation's
capitol, was a glorious climax in the closing scenes of the war. It was a Red Letter day for the men who had
so long,, so zealously and so gallantly defended this country. The two days of the review the weather was
fine. The long marches and incessant hardships incident thereto, made no difference to Sherman's army.
Shabby we were, but we were not ashamed of our appearance-it meant service, and the vast concourse who looked
upon us knew that, and shouted themselves hoarse as we passed. The streets along our line of march were beautifully
and elaborately decorated. It is said that there were one hundred and fifty thousand men in the column. Stretched
out this would make a line thirty miles long. On the reviewing stand were President Johnson, Secretary Stanton,
General Grant, and representatives from almost every nation in the world. It took almost two days, from morning
to night, for the line to march down Pennsylvania Avenue, from the Capitol to the White House. We marched
in column of division closed en mass, which made almost a solid body of men. Filling the street from curb
to curb with a line of guards on either side to hold the people back. The decorations along the line of parade
were most elaborate and inspiring. It was one grand vista of color, red, white, blue and yellow, flags, banners,
bunting streamers, legends and mottos. One enormous banner stretched across Pennsylvania Avenue bore this
inscription in large letters of gold: "There is but one debt this nation can never pay -the debt of gratitude
we owe to our victorious soldiers."
Such a sight was never witnessed before in the world and may never be seen again. This was the first time I
had ever seen Washington city, the great capital of our country. For four years I had been fighting battles
sometimes above the clouds, disappearing beyond the reach of mail or telegraph, a cause of apprehension and
doubt among my loved ones hundreds of miles away-supposed to be lost, captured or killed; but got through
it all. And here I stood in the nation's capital, proud that I lived at a time when I could take part in
that great war for the reservation of the country which our forefathers had established for us and our posterity,
the best government that ever existed.
And now we prepare to leave Washington to go to our different states to be mustered out of service. We
came from Washington via. of Baltimore and Ohio railroad to Louisville, Ky., and from there to Indianapolis,
where I was finally discharged July 25th. 1865.
HOME, SWEET HOME
It is sad to contemplate that all the boys did not return-those who fell in battle, died of disease, or met
death from starvation or exposure in the prisons of the south. Some of those who did return were severely
wounded or shattered in health, and but few who returned were in the full glow of health. Nearly half a
century has elapsed since then and the boys who survive are now past the meridian of life with little left
of their youthful vigor. The constant exposure of four years of cruel war is now telling upon them. The
diseases then sown in their systems still remain. But no one bears a word of regret for the service they
performed. They recount with old-time enthusiasm the achievements of their comrades in defense of "Old
Glory." They know that theirs is an imperishable glory which will grow with the years, through their
devotion to duty in their country's hour of peril. Humanity is now on a higher plane than before; they helped
to uplift this nation from the very pit of despair and started it upon a second career of unparalleled development.
I for one, came home broken down in health, not able to do any kind of work, which made me very anxious as
to what I could or should do to make a living. I stayed at home with my father and mother during the winter
of 1865-6. During that winter I was down sick the most of the time, but I was at home with my dear mother,
God bless her. No one can fill the place of a mother. She cared for me during the winter and I had the very
best of care. In the spring of 1866 I had regained my health sufficiently so I thought I would get a herd
of cattle and herd them that summer. I did. I herded 400 head for two summers on the prairie where Wellington,
Illinois, now stands. I regained in health during these two summers so I could do quite a little work.
But I have never fully recovered my youthful vigor.
On April the 28th, 1867, I was married to Miss Louisa Haines. In March, 1868, we moved to a farm of 160
acres that I bought. Here I commenced farming, the first I had farmed for myself in my life. We lived together
very happily and prospered for nearly eight years. During this union we had born to us five children, two boys
and three girls-Ella M., now the wife of Frank Johnson; Wilbert; Hetta L., wife of William Lockhart, she is now
dead; Maggie wife of Henry Evans, and David A. The mother of this family was called to her final rest January
16, 1875.
On the 28th of March, 1877, I was married to Miss Rebecca Doan of Wellington. To this union two children were
born, one boy and one girl-John D. Galloway and Fannie Galloway. In politics I have always been a republican.
I cast my first vote for General Grant for president. When Lincoln was first a candidate I was not old enough
to vote, and when in 1864 he ran the second time for president I was down at Atlanta, Georgia. Indiana
soldiers were not permitted to vote in the field and they would not let us go home so we had to be content to
see the Ohio soldiers vote. This was owing to our state being governed by that organization known as Knights
of the Golden Circle.
As duty required I have frequently served as delegate to conventions. I assisted in the organization of
the town of Lovejoy, formerly a part of Milford township, Iroquois County and state of Illinois. At our first
election in the township we only cast seventeen votes. I was elected the first town clerk in the town of Lovejoy,
and was elected year after year for eight successive years. I served as assessor for three years, and collected
taxes for the town one year. I was highway commissioner for twelve years, trustee of schools five years, supervisor
of my town for eighteen years in succession, seventeen years of that time I served as one of the committee
on poorfarm, and one year as chairman of county board.
I resigned the office of township supervisor on account of being elected county treasurer in 1898. I took charge
of that office December 5, 1898 and served four years. Since that I have been living in Watseka. I am a member
of the I. 0. 0. F. at Wellington and was also a member of Harmon Post No. 115 G. A. R. at Hoopeston, Illinois,
and was senior vice commander of the Eastern Department of Illinois which organization has gone out of existence.
I am now a member of Williams Post No. 25 Department of Illinois G. A. R. I have been quartermaster for a number
of years and am at present the commander of the Post. Recently I have been honored by being appointed aide-de-camp
on the Staff of the Commander in Chief of the Grand Army of the Republic.
My little store of property consists of 480 acres of land in Lovejoy township and 160 acres in Comanche County,
Oklahoma, also my home here in Watseka where I now live.
The main business of my life has been farming and stock raising; and I may say that I have been reasonably
successful. It has been my aim to be honest in all my dealings. What little I,have, I have accumulated by
hard work and fair dealing with everybody; and I am proud to say in this little history of mine that I don't
think I ever got a dollar from any man by unfair means. I am glad to have this kind of a record to leave for
my children, for I believe it is more lasting and better than riches, and I hope that my example and principles
will be followed by my children and that they may benefit by it. I have tried to teach my children to be
sober, industrious and upright men and women.
I don't feel that this sketch of my life is complete without speaking of my dear companions that have so
nobly helped me to bear the burdens of this life. My first wife did not live long to share with me in bearing
my burdens, but while she did live, she did everything a woman could do to help along. She took the best
of care of our children; she was a good mother and a faithful wife. She was called to her Heavenly home when
her children were small. She was a member of the Christian church and lived a true Christian life.
My second and present wife is a true Christian woman. She belongs to the M. E. church and lives an exemplary
life. Of her I want to say, a nobler woman could not be. Coming into my family as she did, helping me as
she has in bearing my burdens, helping me to raise my children and her own, speaks for itself in the very highest
terms that could be spoken for any woman.
My two companions were ahead of me in one respect at least They both belonged to church, and I never did.
I admit that I am a strong believer and I might say here that I have really been a Methodist all my life;
at any rate since August 27, 1857, when I became converted at Redwood Point school house in Warren County,
Indiana, five miles northeast of where I was raised, during a revival conducted by a Methodist minister named
Colbreath Hall. At the same time my oldest sister was converted, joined the M. E. church and lived a true Christian
woman all her life. I have no reason to offer for not making a profession of religion. My children all belonged
to the M. E. church. And possibly the good teachings of Christian wives had a great deal to do with the shaping
of their future destiny. I thank God for it. There is nothing better can be said of a man or woman than that
he or she has lived a moral, upright, honest life and been a good Christian all their lives. Without Christianity
we are nothing. My desire and hope is that my children shall always be good Christians. If they are I shall
have no fear for them now or in the future.
MY TRAVELS
My travels since the war have been limited. Occasionally I would take a trip. Once I went to California accompanied
by my wife; once to Dakota; twice to eastern Canada to visit my sister; once by myself, and once accompanied
by my wife and daughter Fannie. A few years ago I went to Atlanta, Georgia, together with my wife and son,
John D. and daughter Fannie. Twice I went to Oklahoma, and frequently I have taken trips to the nearby states,
so you see the extent of my travels has not been great. I rather preferred to be at home attending to my business.
I enjoyed being at home with my family. I believe in the old saying, "Be it ever so humble there's
no place like home."
I wish to insert this incident which may be read with some interest by my children and grandchildren: The
celebration of Abraham Lincoln's one hundredth birthday anniversary. The occasion of this great event was
very appropriately observed by Williams Post No. 25, Department of Illinois, G. A. R., and the people generally
in Watseka, on February 12th, 1909. We were given the use of the Christian church in Watseka, which was very
kind of the trustees. A great banquet was served by the Christian people in the basement of the church. Our
Post met at the G. A. R. hall at 7 o'clock p. m., marched to the church and feasted upon a very elaborate
spread to which we all did full justice, after which we moved from the basement into the church. Here
the exercises were as follows:
Called to order by Joseph Galloway, commander of the Post and chairman of the meeting. The following remarks
by Joseph Galloway.
I said in part:
We have met tonight to celebrate a great event-the birth of Abraham Lincoln, the greatest man that ever lived,
I think. I stand before you tonight as one of Abraham Lincoln's boys of 1861, and I am proud of it.
I well remember hearing him make a speech down at Springfield, Illinois, in the fall of 1860, while he
was running for president of the United States, when he told what a terrible war was coming on; how fathers
and mothers would see their sons go into service; how wives would part with their husbands, and sisters with
their brothers. Then he turned to the boys of my age when he said, "Boys, in less than a year many of
you will be carrying guns in defense of your country." Sure enough, I was.
I saw him no more until February 1861, after be had been elected president, when on his way to Washington
city to be inaugurated. He passed through on the Wabash R. R., stopping at different stations along the line.
People gathered in great crowds to see him, and hear what he had to say. At State Line City where I was,
he came out on the rear platform of the car he was riding in. There was great excitement. The report was that
he would be killed before he reached Washington. Old people were crying, especially old ladies. He says, "Don't
worry about me, I will get to Washington all right, and I will be President of the United States." Sure
enough he was, and the war came on as he predicted.
I went into the service. I have seen that flag torn from our ranks when I was captured in 1863 by General Van
Dorn and General Forrest's rebel forces, and I didn't see that flag again until I was taken out of Libby Prison
to City Point, where there was a flag of truce boat laying in waiting for us, with the stars and stripes floating
over it. I thought it was the most beautiful sight that I ever saw. I love that dear old flag and well I might;
I have fought through many a battle for its preservation. I followed it to the sea under Sherman, I followed
it up through the Carolinas until we reached Raleigh, North Carolina, where we were when the war closed. Lee
surrendered to Grant at Appomattox, Virginia, Johnston surrendered to Sherman at Greenville, North Carolina.
All was joy then with us in the thought of soon seeing home and friends once more. We were cheering in
the different camps throughout Sherman's army, when all at once the cheering ceased over in yonder camp and
over in that camp. We began to wonder what it all meant, such a sudden change. Presently we saw a
courier coming as fast as he could ride, and brought the sad news that Abraham Lincoln had been assassinated.
0, what a sad hour that was. Our captain, our great commander, was slain. What shall we do?
Today the children from Maine to California join with one mind and one heart in the study and love of that great
man-Abraham Lincoln, the man who made it possible by the assistance of his loyal army, for the stars and stripes
to be the flag of the world.
"The Star Spangled Banner, 0, long may it wave O'er the,land of the free and the homes of the brave.
SUMMING UP
In summing up this short sketch of my life which I write at the age of 69 years, I am proud to say in referring
to myself as a soldier that I went through the war with a record that I am not ashamed of. I never missed a
skirmish or battle in which my regiment was engaged during the entire war. I obeyed the teachings of my dear
father and mother. They always advised me to lead a moral, upright, honest and sober life, which I am proud
to say I have done, shunning all the vices and temptations that naturally comes to us in life.
When I look back it seems to me a wonder that under the circumstances, a young man could resist these temptations
and come through clear; and I think it is something,to be proud of that my children can refer to and be proud
of, as they surely will be.
I have raised a large family of children and tried to educate them. I have tried to teach them to be upright
men and women, and to pay their honest debts, even if it took the last dollar they had; and to never make a
debt without first devising some plan by which they could meet their obligation. I am happy to say that so
far they are doing fine. How well they may succeed in the future remains yet to be proven. My desire for them
all is to do right which shall always be my earnest prayer.
JOSEPH GALLOWAY.
Dated this 3rd day of December, 1909.
ADDENDUM.
June 25, 1910. Since writing the foregoing sketch of my life, I had the sad misfortune to lose my second beloved
wife, and am again left to live balance of my days alone. If it were not for my dear children I should
have nothing to live for; they, all stand ready to do anything they can do for me.
My dear daughter Fannie is keeping house for me. In fact my children are all just as good as they can be, but
they are all doing for themselves except Fannie who lives with me.
My wife belonged to the Woman's Relief Corps, Auxiliary to the G. A. R. and to Williams Post No. 25, Department
of Illinois, which order she dearly loved and every member of the corps. She was ready at any time to do
anything that she could for the soldiers and their families. She was an earnest worker, doing all she
could in her humble way without making any great display. She was patriotic in every sense of the word.
She gave up this life March 16, 1910, at two o'clock p. m. Everything was done to save her dear life; the best
medical aid that we could get and a splendid nurse (Miss Inglis) watched over her. She has gone to her
heavenly home to reap the rewards of the righteous, for she will surely be rewarded for the noble and useful
life she has lived on this earth.
I wish to add to this sketch of my life the beautiful words of consolation which was presented to me by the
W. R. C. and brought to me by a Committee of that organization appointed for that purpose.
"COMRADE JOSEPH GALLOWAY AND FAMILY:
There are times when speech seems leaden, and when words are but a mockery as, a medium for the expression of
the deepest emotions of the human heart. Such is this occasion, and yet we must speak; the life we seek to
commend is highly worthy, and the occasion demands eulogy. One who has lived through the measure of three score
years, and has lived as our dear sister, Rebecca Galloway, nobly, sincerely, earnestly, and lovingly, exemplified
the Christ life in its beauty, grandeur, standing always for all that was good and true.
She was charitable to the erring and seldom, if ever, did a word of censure, fall from her lips. In our work
she had held the honored office of President and Senior Vice President, and was Color Bearer at the time
of her demise. In performing these duties she was always thoughtful, tender and loving; thoughtful for
the happiness of those about her, and how she might contribute to it. We shall miss her, sadly miss her.
We loved her and have suffered an irreparable loss. To the bereaved family we extend our heartfelt sympathy.
There is but one help; He who wept with the sorrowing sisters at the grave of their only brother, and sympathized
with them in their lonely home, invited every bereaved one to lay their burdens upon him and has promised
to sustain them. "His Grace" if sufficient to every day and trial, to every time of need. It is only
with a childlike trust in Him, that one is at all able to say, even though it be in tears, "The Lord
gave, the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." It is this faith, this unfaltering trust,
alone that can bring solace to the lonely in their sorrow.
There is a ship named sometime;
We wait for it and wait,
One on the shore impatient,
And one at the household gate,
Thinking "if it comes not in the morn
Then in the evening, it may."
But one we know not thinking of ships
Worked till the close of day,
Lifted her eyes at evening time,
And there her ship at anchor lay.
Yours in F. C. and L., Williams Corps No. 242, Auxiliary to the ?
G. A. R.
Dicie, S. WARREN,
LUCRETIA TAYLOR, Committee.
MARIANNA SLOAN,
NETTIE BAIRD, President W. R. C. Corps 242.
So ends my story.
JOSEPH GALLOWAY.