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Story of a Common Soldier of Army Life in the Civil War, 1861-1865, The

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CHAPTER XX. THE AFFAIR AT OVERALL'S CREEK. MURFREESBORO. DECEMBER, 1864. The invasion of Tennessee by the Confederate army under the command of Gen. J. B. Hood was now on, and only a day or two after our arrival at Murfreesboro we began to hear the sullen, deep-toned booming of artillery towards the west, and later north-west in the direction of Nashville. And this continued, with more or less frequency, until the termination, on December 16th, of the battle of Nashville, which resulted in the defeat of the Confederates, and their retreat from the State. About December 3rd, the Confederate cavalry, under the command of our old acquaintance, Gen. N. B. Forrest, swung in between Nashville and Murfreesboro, tore up the railroad, and cut us off from Nashville for about two weeks. The Union forces at Murfreesboro at this time consisted of about 6,000 men,—infantry, cavalry, and artillery, (but principally infantry,) under the command of Gen L. H. Rousseau. December 4th, 1864, was a pleasant, beautiful day at old Murfreesboro. The sun was shining bright and warm, the air was still, and the weather conditions were like those at home during Indian summer in October. Along about the middle of the afternoon, without a single note of preliminary warning, suddenly came the heavy "boom" of cannon close at hand, in a northwesterly direction. We at once ran up on the ramparts, and looking up the railroad towards Nashville, could plainly see the blue rings of powder-smoke curling upwards above the trees. But we didn't look long. Directly after we heard the first report, the bugles in our camp and others began sounding "Fall in!" We hastily formed in line, and in a very short time the 61st Illinois and two other regiments of infantry, the 8th Minnesota and the 174th Ohio, with a section of artillery, all under the command of Gen. R. H. Milroy, filed out of Fortress Rosecrans, and proceeded in the direction of this cannonading. About four miles out from Murfreesboro we came to the scene of the trouble. The Confederates had opened with their artillery on one of our railroad block-houses, and were trying to demolish or capture it. The 13th Indiana Cavalry had preceded us to the spot, and were skirmishing with the enemy. Our regiment formed in line on the right of the pike, the Minnesota regiment to our right, and the Ohio regiment on the left, while our artillery took a position on some higher ground near the pike, and began exchanging shots with that of the enemy. The position of our regiment was on the hither slope of a somewhat high ridge, in the woods, with a small stream called Overall's creek running parallel to our front. We were standing here at ease, doing nothing, and I slipped up on the crest of the ridge, "to see what I could see." The ground on the opposite side of the creek was lower than ours, and was open, except a growth of rank grass and weeds. And I could plainly see the skirmishers of the enemy, in butternut clothing, skulking in the grass and weeds, and occasionally firing in our direction. They looked real tempting, so I hurried back to the regiment, and going to Capt. Keeley, told him that the Confederate skirmishers were just across the creek, in plain sight, and asked him if I couldn't slip down the brow of the ridge and take a few shots at them. He looked at me kind of queerly, and said: "You stay right where you are, and tend to your own business. You'll have plenty of shooting before long." I felt a little bit hurt at his remark, but made no reply, and resumed my place in the ranks. But he afterwards made me a sort of apology for his brusque reproof, saying he had no desire to see me perhaps throw my life away in a performance not within the scope of my proper and necessary duty. And he was right, too, in his prediction, that there would soon be "plenty of shooting." I had just taken my place in the ranks when a mounted staff officer came galloping up, and accosting a little group of our line officers, asked, with a strong German accent, "Iss ziss ze 61st Illinois?" and on being told that it was, next inquired for Col. Grass, who was pointed out to him. He rode to the Colonel, who was near at hand, saluted him, and said, "Col. Grass, ze Sheneral sends his compliments wiss ze order zat you immediately deploy your regiment as skirmishers, and forthwith advance on ze enemy, right in your front!" The recruits and non-veterans of the regiment being yet in Arkansas, its present effective strength hardly exceeded three hundred men, so there was just about enough of us to make a sufficient skirmish line, on this occasion, for the balance of the command. In obedience to the aforesaid order the regiment was promptly deployed as skirmishers, and the line advanced over the crest of the ridge in our front, and down the slope on the opposite side. At the bank of the creek a little incident befell me, which serves to show how a very trifling thing may play an important part in one's fate. I happened to reach the creek at a point opposite a somewhat deep pool. The water was clear and cold, and I disliked the idea of having wet feet on the skirmish line, and looked around for a place where it was possible to cross dry-shod. A rod or two above me the stream was narrow, and where it could be jumped, so I started in a run for that place. The creek bank on my side was of yellow clay, high and perpendicular, while on the other margin the bank was quite low, and the ground adjacent sloped upward gently and gradually. While running along the edge of the stream to the fording place, one of my feet caught on the end of a dead root projecting from the lower edge of the bank, and I pitched forward, and nearly fell. At the very instant of my stumble,—"thud" into the clay bank right opposite where I would have been, if standing, went a bullet fired by a Confederate skirmisher. He probably had taken deliberate aim at me, and on seeing me almost fall headlong, doubtless gave himself credit for another Yankee sent to "the happy hunting grounds." It is quite likely that owing to the existence of that old dead root, and my lucky stumble thereon, I am now here telling the story of this skirmish. By this time it was sunset, and darkness was approaching, but we went on. The Confederate skirmishers retired, but we soon developed their main line on some high ground near the edge of the woods,—and then we had to stop. We lay down, loaded and fired in that position, and nearly all of the enemy's balls passed over our heads. Presently it grew quite dark, and all we had to aim at was the long horizontal sheet of red flame that streamed from the muskets of the Confederates. In the mean time the artillery of both parties was still engaged in their duel, and their balls and shells went screaming over our heads. Occasionally a Confederate shell would explode right over us, and looked interesting, but did no harm. While all this firing was at its liveliest, I heard close by the heavy "thud" that a bullet makes in striking a human body, followed immediately by a sharp cry of "Oh!" which meant that someone had been hit. It proved to be Lieutenant Elijah Corrington, of Co. F. He was struck by the ball in the region of the heart, and expired almost instantly. He was a good man, and a brave soldier, and his death was sincerely mourned. The affair was terminated by the 174th Ohio on our left getting around on the enemy's right flank, where it poured in a destructive volley, and the Confederates retired. We followed a short distance, but neither saw nor heard anything more of the enemy, so we finally retired also. We recrossed the creek, built some big fires out of dry chestnut rails, which we left burning, in order, I suppose, to make our foes believe we were still there, and then marched to Murfreesboro, where we arrived about midnight. On the two following days, December 5 and 6, the Confederates showed themselves to the west of us, and demonstrated most ostentatiously against Murfreesboro. From where we stood on the ramparts of Fortress Rosecrans we could plainly see their columns in motion, with flags flying, circling around us as if looking for a good opening. They were beyond the range of musketry, but our big guns in the fortress opened on them and gave them a most noisy cannonading, but what the effect was I don't know,—probably not much. In the battles of the Civil War artillery playing on infantry at short range with grape and canister did frightful execution, of which I saw plenty of evidence at Shiloh; but at a distance, and firing with solid shot or shell, it simply made a big noise, and if it killed anybody, it was more an accident than otherwise. Beginning about December 5th, and continuing for several days thereafter, we turned out at four o'clock every morning, fully armed, and manned the trenches in the rear of the breastworks, and remained there till after sunrise. It was a cold, chilly business, standing two or three hours in those damp trenches, with an empty stomach, waiting for an apprehended attack, which, however, was never made. For my part, I felt like I did when behind our big works in the rear of Vicksburg, and sincerely hoped that the other fellows would make an attempt to storm our defenses, and I think the other boys felt the same way. We would have shot them down just like pigeons, and the artillery in the corner bastions, charged with grape and canister, would have played its part too. But the Confederates had no intention of making any attempt of this nature. The Official Records of the Rebellion hereinbefore mentioned contain the correspondence between Hood and Forrest concerning this movement on Murfreesboro, and which clearly discloses their schemes. The plan was simply to "scare" Rousseau out of Murfreesboro, and cause him to retreat in a northerly direction towards the town of Lebanon, and then, having gotten him out of his hole, to surround him in the open with their large force of cavalry, well supported by infantry, and capture all his command. But Rousseau didn't "scare" worth a cent, as will appear later. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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