- More troops at Cairo -- expedition up the Tennessee and the Cumberland -- arrival of transports -- fall of Fort Henry -- siege and capture of Fort Donelson -- Colonel Logan severely wounded -- I succeed in getting to the front -- find my husband at Grant's headquarters -- the battle-field's tragic story -- we reach home -- Logan rejoins his command as Brigadier -- General -- Shiloh -- Logan's advice fatally rejected by Halleck -- join my husband at Memphis -- General McPherson -- illness of General Logan -- investment of Vicksburg -- Logan's charge -- blowing up Fort Hill -- first in the captured city -- political campaign of 1863 -- contrabands in Illinois -- I befriend one and circumvent the “Golden Circle” -- winter quarters at Huntsville -- heroism of women throughout the war.
After the battle of Belmont, many more troops were ordered to rendezvous at Cairo, Illinois. General Grant was designated to organize an expedition up the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers. During the months of December and January, in the worst weather ever experienced in that climate, the troops in great numbers were mobilized in and around inhospitable Cairo. Munitions of war and commissary stores were accumulated in great quantity. The troops, while ignorant of their destination, knew instinctively that some important movement was soon to be inaugurated. Brief as was their engagement at Belmont, they began to realize fully that Sherman's definition, “War is hell,” was correct. Finally the transports began to come into the port at Cairo. Orders were issued for the troops to be ready to embark on  the 5th of February. From the moment of the receipt of this order the camps were all excitement with the preparations. Camp equipments were to be packed, and personal belongings reduced to the smallest possible compact parcel; business affairs had to be arranged by writing; letters, wills, and farewells had to be written, and everything prepared for a speedy departure to an unknown destination and fate. The transports set sail in a pitiless storm of snow and sleet. Going as far as they could up the river, the troops were landed and proceeded to surround Fort Henry, which was to be attacked by our gunboats. The whole country adjacent was submerged by water; the land was heavily timbered, and it was almost impassable for the quartermaster and ordnance wagons, while it was with great difficulty that the artillery could be moved at all; but so dauntless were the troops of Grant's command that Fort Henry soon succumbed. As soon as the fall of Fort Henry was assured, General Grant pushed forward with redoubled vigor, the assault by the gunboats having already begun upon Fort Donelson. The storms of the winter of 1861-2 were unprecedented, being especially wild during the month of February. Everything was covered with ice and snow; night and day a raw, cold wind blew such bitter blasts that men and animals could scarcely stand against its force. They had to move about or freeze to death. More than one of the brave men in the siege died from the exposure they experienced. Their clothing was frozen on them. Officers and men fared alike during the entire siege of Fort Donelson, and there was little respite for either. Colonel Logan was in the saddle almost continuously, taking only brief rests by lying down on the ground with his saddle under his head, and over him his saddle-blanket, which was frozen when he rose to mount his horse again. From this exposure he contracted rheumatism from which he never recovered, and which finally cost him his life. So near the  fortifications were they that they did not dare to build fires by which to warm themselves or cook anything to eat. Colonel Ransom, with the 11th, and Colonel John A. Logan, with the 31st Illinois Infantry, had gone into the siege side by side. Finding the ammunition short, these gallant men made an agreement to stand or fall together. They were to alternate in holding their places in the besieging line and thereby make the ammunition last as long as possible. They supported each other until the victory was won, but at a terrible cost to themselves and the gallant regiments they commanded, every man of whom was ready to follow either leader into the very jaws of death, as attested by the number who fell before the capitulation of Fort Donelson. The Telegraph announced that Fort Donelson had fallen February 15, 1862, and also gave a list of the killed and wounded; in the list of killed appeared the names of Colonel John A. Logan, Lieutenant-Colonel John H. White, four captains of the 31st Regiment, of Illinois, and a great number of the men, all of whom I knew personally. There were many Illinois troops in General Grant's command, and consequently the State lost heavily of her officers and soldiers in the expedition against Forts Henry and Donelson. On receipt of the overwhelming news of my husband's death, I started at once for Cairo, Illinois, determined, if it were possible, to go to Fort Donelson at all hazards: Transportation was very limited, and hundreds of people flocked to Cairo, anxious to go up the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers in pursuit of friends who had been killed or wounded. Orders were issued from the War Department to allow no one on board the few transports then at the command of the army. General Grant was to be reinforced at once so that he could continue the march to Pittsburg Landing and on to Corinth. On my arrival at Cairo I learned that Colonel Logan was not killed, but was severely wounded, news which made me all the more anxious to join him. Going to army headquarters at  Cairo, I applied for permission to go up the river. The colonel commanding assumed an imperious air, informing me with much emphasis that military necessity compelled him to refuse me a pass. My heart was almost broken; I could hardly stand on my feet while I addressed this high and mighty personage; hence I could only reply that I trusted, “if the exigencies of the service should ever send him to the front, and he should be so unfortunate as to suffer any of the fatalities of war, a military necessity would not prevent Mrs. Graham from going to him.” He answered savagely: “Thank you, madam, there is no Mrs. Graham.” And I retorted: “If there was one intended, I hope she died in her infancy.” With fast-falling tears I left headquarters, fully intending to go to Fort Donelson if I had to go in a rowboat, or cross the river and drive overland. When I reached the hotel I found that Governor Yates, of Illinois, and Governor Morton, of Indiana, had both arrived, and were going to charter steamers to go and bring the wounded and the remains of those who had been killed home to their respective States. I hastened to call on them and was assured I could go with either of them. Dear old Colonel Dunlap, of Jacksonville, Illinois, brigade quartermaster of McClernand's brigade was present, and as I passed out of the room he followed me into the hall and whispered to me the name of the steamer which was going first and which was then being loaded at the wharf. He said: “Slip down to the boat, tell them you are a member of my family, and that you are to wait for me until I come to the boat a few hours later. After you are on board, hide in one of the staterooms, and you will not be disturbed, as, in the mean while, I will give such instructions as will protect you.” I lost no time in getting to the boat and, to my delight, found Captain Arter in command. Colonel Logan had a few years before defended and cleared him of a charge of manslaughter. He was an old river captain and had gotten into trouble with a roustabout employed on his boat. He  welcomed me most cordially, and understood without asking that I had no pass. He said: “Come on board, and you shall see Logan.” He conducted me up a veritable winding stairs to a stateroom on the hurricane-deck, and I did not stir abroad until we were under way and the stars were shining. Captain Arter came and knocked on my door, calling out: “The coast is clear. Come down to supper.” As we sailed up the river it seemed like a shoreless sheet of water and ice, as the waters were so high they extended over acres of ground far outside the banks. Mammoth trees rose out of the water like islands in the sea, and but for long experience the pilot could not have kept in the channel. The long, gray moss which hung like mystic veils from all the trees invested everything with a weird appearance and made one feel he was penetrating into a mysterious land. We arrived at an early hour in the morning, and as we approached we saw the stars and stripes flying over the ramparts of Fort Donelson. As we neared the landing our boat almost touched the guards of the decks of the steamer Uncle Sam upon which were General Grant's headquarters. Recognizing me, a number of the officers who came out on the deck hailed me, telling me to come on board, General Grant having had both Colonel Ransom and Colonel Logan carried to his headquarters after the surrender. In a briefer time than it has taken to write this story, I was ascending the companionway of the Uncle Sam, to find my husband lying on a cot with his left arm strapped to his body, it having been wounded near the point of the shoulder, the rifle-ball passing through the shoulder-joint. Another ball struck the pistol he carried in his belt, and nearly broke his ribs, from which he suffered almost as much as from the wound in the arm and shoulder. Colonel Ransom and Colonel Logan lay on cots side by side on the Uncle Sam, where General Grant had done the very best he could for them. From the severe weather and exposure hundreds had come  down with pneumonia and typhoid fever. Transportation was so limited that General Grant could not send the sick and wounded North as rapidly as he desired. He therefore took possession of the many vacant houses and tried to establish hospitals, to make the sufferers as comfortable as possible, with the thermometer below zero and the meagre supplies attainable. As soon as possible, therefore, I made my two patients, Colonels Ransom and Logan, much happier than they had been, as I had not been so improvident as to go to Colonel Logan empty-handed, but had hastily laid in clothing, delicacies, and many necessities for the relief of the sick and wounded. As I was the eldest of a family of thirteen, my education in caring for the sick and preparing the proper diet for invalids had not been neglected, and so I lost no time in finding the stewards and their kitchens. Only those who have had like experience can appreciate what a spongebath of alcohol and hot water, clean clothes, and nourishing food meant to those brave men after the long, weary hours of suffering and discomfort that they had endured from the hour they had fallen on the bloody field. After ministering to their relief and when they were sleeping quietly, I went with some friends to look after those whom we knew who were either sick or wounded and had been carried to improvised hospitals. We also attended the burial service which was held over the brave men of the 11th and 31st Illinois Regiments that had fought so bravely. While life lasts I shall never forget the sight upon which I looked through tears on the battle-field. The long trenches had been dug by their weary comrades. The heroic dead had been brought and laid side by side in them. Their overcoats and blankets were wrapped about their lifeless forms. Tents were ripped so as to make tarpaulins with which to cover them over. Chaplains standing close to the centre, with uncovered heads, prayed fervently for peace to the souls of the gallant dead about to be laid to rest in mother earth, where they  would sleep their last sleep till the trump of the resurrection should call them to glory in that land where wars can never come. After the bugler's long, sad note I turned away with unspeakable sadness from this, the first interment on a battlefield I had ever witnessed, appreciating more keenly than I had ever done before the melancholy significance of the words: “Buried on the field where they had fallen,” and realizing that it was barely possible, after sanguinary engagements, to pay as much tribute to the dead as had been done in this one of the early battles in the West during the Civil War. For many days I continued my constant vigil over Colonels Ransom and Logan, as serious complications in both cases set in, and it required the surgeon's best skill to save them. Meanwhile General Grant was steadily pushing his preparations for the continuation of the expedition to Pittsburg Landing (know also as Shiloh) en route to Corinth, Mississippi, then the headquarters of Beauregard's army. Transportation was finally secured for Colonel Ransom to take him North to his friends. The surgeons succeeded in finding quarters to which Colonel Logan was removed, as the Uncle Sam had to proceed up the river with General Grant and his staff. It would seem hopeless now to care for an invalid with the scant supplies, crude utensils, and appliances we could then command; but, thanks to untiring surgeons and devoted friends, who were constantly coming from the North with sanitary stores and most generous commissaries, our larder was kept quite full. Tin pans gradually gave way to real saucepans; broilers succeeded the long forked stick which had been used for broiling everything; coffee and tea pots took the place of tin cans; and wooden johnny-cake boards — were supplanted by iron skillets with iron lids. Donations of glass, queensware, cutlery, blankets, bed and table linen increased our stores, until at the end of three weeks we were living  in affluence and were able to provide for many more who were wounded or ill in other parts of the building. I look back upon that experience now with infinite satisfaction, as I was able to nurse my husband back to health and strength and he was spared to me and to his country for a quarter of a century longer. The surgeons and physicians deciding that Colonel Logan was able to be moved, he was taken on board a transport, and by exercising great care we reached our home, which was then at Murphysboro, Jackson County, Illinois. We had scarcely recovered from the fatigue of the journey when the news of the approaching battle of Shiloh was received. Like an impatient steed, Colonel (now Brigadier-General) Logan sniffed the battle from afar, and though unable to put his arm in his coat-sleeve, he insisted upon rejoining his command in time, if possible, to participate in the expected battle. The stars he had won at Donelson would necessitate his assuming graver duties, and he was most anxious to have his old regiment assigned to his brigade. Ignoring appeals to remain until his wound was healed, he set out for Shiloh, arriving there late in the afternoon of the last day of that memorable engagement, disgusted with the delays of transportation that had prevented him from participating in that mighty struggle, when fortune apparently wavered from the Union to the Confederate army, and then back to the army of the Union. Scarcely halting long enough to gather up the sick and wounded and to bury the dead, General Grant moved forward, hoping to capture Beauregard and his army. General Logan was placed in command of the First Brigade, Third Division, Seventeenth Army Corps. He was proud of his command, and would have been happy but for the fateful effect of the attacks of scandal-mongers upon General Grant, charging him with intemperance and incapacity to command the dauntless army, which was subsequently a part of the invincible Army of the Tennessee. The authorities at Washington  were so impressed by these reports, supposed to come from loyal, honest persons, that, wishing to protect the army which had scored the first victories for the Union, they placed General Halleck in command, and designated General Grant as second in command, a designation never before or since made in the American army. General Grant felt the indignity deeply, but, true soldier that he was, he pushed his plans for the capture of Corinth with unremitting vigor, though handicapped at every turn by Halleck's dilatory, technical methods. Grant and Logan were on the most intimate terms, and, being aggressive soldiers, they became restive under Halleck's over-cautious tactics. General Logan's command was placed astride the Mobile and Ohio Railroad which ran into Corinth. In this brigade there were a number of men formerly in the employ of railroads and who understood sounds conveyed by the rails. General Logan learned from the telegraphy of these sounds that empty trains were being taken into Corinth and that they were loaded when they were run out. Convinced that the Confederates were evacuating Corinth, and that if they escaped it would mean another long and weary chase which would cost many lives and great hardship to the army, he went to Grant and begged him to let him feel the enemy and attack them if he proved that he was right about their movements. Grant believed.Logan and wanted to let him try, but Halleck condemned the whole suggestion and intimated that if Logan repeated his impertinence by such reports he would put him under arrest and relieve him of his command. General Grant in his memoirs says: “May 28th, 1862, Gen. Logan informed me that the enemy had been evacuating for several days, and that, if allowed, he could go into Corinth with his brigade.” Beauregard had begun to evacuate on the 25th of May, but General Halleck would have no suggestions from Grant or Logan, and waited his own time to find,  when he issued his celebrated order of attack of May 30, no enemy on his front. Soon after Halleck was called to Washington and Grant, untrammelled by a martinet, began his campaign in pursuit of the wily enemy. Our gallant army continued the chase, stopping ever and anon to fight a battle and scale fortifications, or rout the enemy. After Corinth came the trying and tedious march through the enemy's country to Jackson, Lagrange, and Memphis, Tennessee. In the fall and winter of 1862-3 General Logan's command was encamped at Memphis, Tennessee. The general had been almost constantly in the saddle from the time he reached Shiloh and joined his command in the movement against Corinth. The weather was inclement and the condition of the roads dreadful, the streets of the city being well-nigh impassable. On hearing that General Logan had reached Memphis, I applied for transportation to join him, and succeeded in getting it — a most difficult thing to accomplish in those days, with the meagre facilities at the command of the army. General Logan and his staff were staying at the Gayoso House, as were also General McPherson and his staff. When I arrived I found that our friends Mr. and Mrs. Sanger and their daughter, Miss Harriet, now the widow of George M. Pullman, were guests of the hotel. Miss Harriet Sanger was one of the most beautiful and captivating girls in the West. General McPherson admired her extravagantly. She had also a devotee in the person of Colonel F. A. Starring, of the 72d Illinois Infantry Regiment. The 72d was from Chicago and its vicinity and had an unusually fine band. One night Colonel Starring arranged for his band to serenade Miss Sanger. He had called for Miss Sanger, who came down to the parlor to receive him, and while they were listening to the music they heard cheering. Colonel Starring stepped out on the balcony and found General McPherson  on another balcony a few feet away acknowledging the serenade. One of his staff had supposed, of course, that the serenade was for General McPherson, and ordered refreshments in the hotel dining-room for the band men. This naturally inspired the band to play vociferously after the repast. Miss Sanger induced Colonel Starring not to say anything about the serenade having been intended for her, so that General McPherson might enjoy the compliment ignorant of the fact that the serenade had not been intended for him. It was too good a joke, however, to be kept a secret. Somebody told General McPherson, who was much chagrined over the affair. He tried to treat the occurrence jocularly, but was unable to conceal his annoyance. General McPherson was, without exception, the most unassuming and agreeable man I ever knew. His soldierly qualities were of the highest order. True nobility characterized his conduct as a man and a gentleman. His orders were military in every sense of the word, but without a note of the martinet running through them. The attachment between him and General Logan was very strong, and found expression in General Logan's heroic action after McPherson fell, July 22, 1864. A few days after the episode related above General Logan's headquarters were established in the grounds surrounding the magnificent Lanier place on the outskirts of the city. General Logan and I were given rooms in the stately mansion. As soon as possible thereafter General Logan began to get his division ready to be reviewed. General McPherson reviewed the whole command, doing us the honor to dine with us in the Lanier mansion after the review was over. The troops had been paid a day or two before, and naturally many of them went on a grand spree, and it was with great difficulty that the officers could get their troops sufficiently straightened out for the review. Colonel John D. Stephenson commanded a Missouri regiment, one of the  bravest, most brilliant, and best of men. His regiment was made up of men from the docks of Saint Louis, and they were a pretty hard tribe. They had been fighting among themselves, and almost all of them appeared in line for the review with black eyes and otherwise “bummed up.” The morning of the review Colonel Stephenson started to go into the sutler's tent. There was a piece of timber standing near by which fell and struck the colonel on the side of the head causing great discoloration of his cheeks and under his eyes. General McPherson was full of fun, and, on returning to Colonel Stephenson's tent after reviewing his regiment, he said: “Colonel, I am surprised to see that you have a black-eyed regiment,” a facetious remark which we all enjoyed. The day of the review was the last time that General Logan was really able to leave his bed. After his long exposure and hard work I acted as amanuensis and messenger for him, taking his orders to the headquarters tent on the grounds of the Lanier place. One day he wanted from his adjutant-general a particular paper which he was to use, and I told him that I could go over and get it as well as not. I started over, and as I passed Colonel Stolbrand's tent I saw his clerk was tied to a tree which stood almost in front of it. Poor Crutchfield looked so unhappy, having just recovered from a debauch, that he touched my heart, and I ran into the cook's tent, got a butcher knife, and cut the ropes to free him. I told Crutchfield to go to his tent and hide himself as soon .as possible. Colonel Stolbrand was on duty somewhere and did not know who had cut the ropes to free Crutchfield. Colonel Stolbrand was a fine specimen of a Swedish officer, with his ruddy complexion and sandy hair. He wore the red of the artillery, and altogether was rather a flaming specimen when he came rushing into General Logan's room in a towering rage, reporting to the general that somebody had freed Crutchfield, whom he had tied to discipline and sober up, insisting that he could not find out that it was  anybody in the army. If it was they had got to be punished, and if it was an outsider he must be driven from the camp immediately. I had said nothing to the general about what I had done, and enjoyed very much Stolbrand's indignation. A few days before, Colonel Stolbrand had been telegraphed to meet his wife, who was trying to join him at some station above Memphis. The general was not inclined to let him go. Colonel Stolbrand happened to ask permission in my presence, and I said to the general: “Oh, let him go, he will be back all right.” After my pleading the general did let him go, and Colonel Stolbrand was very grateful to me. He went, and, of course, got back all right. The incident involving Crutchfield occurred a day or two after Colonel Stolbrand's return. I listened quietly to what he was saying to the general, and when he had finished I said: “Now, colonel, suppose it turns out that the person who cut that rope does not belong to the army, and nobody has any authority to drive them out of the camp, what would you do?” He said: “I would drive them away from the camp at the point of my sword.” I said: “I believe there was a man who wanted to join his wife a few days ago, and his commanding officer would not consent to let him go. Somebody interfered and the man finally got permission.” This remark gave the stolid Swede an idea that I might have done this, and so he said: “Ah, Mrs. Logan, my dear lady, I have great reverence for you, but you must not do that thing again, or I shall be obliged to make charges against you.” The general saw at once that I was the guilty party, and kept up the joke with Stolbrand by saying that if any such thing ever occurred again he would have the culprit driven beyond the lines by a drum corps, which put Colonel Stolbrand in a good humor. I was not willing to let it go at that, so I said to Colonel Stolbrand, “Colonel, Crutchfield has sworn to me that he will never touch another drop of  liquor while he is in your command, and you know that he is a very valuable clerk, and I am sure you do not wish to part with him. Now promise me that you will inflict a very light punishment on him for this misdemeanor and that you will give him a chance to keep his oath of total abstinence in the future.” I saw no more of poor Crutchfield for many years, but I was on a Mississippi River steamer going up the river one day, when somebody called me by name from the shore, and, standing on the deck, I responded. He then called: “Mrs. Logan, this is Crutchfield, and I am sober yet.” Colonel Stolbrand won his star for his gallant and soldierly conduct, and continued to remain on the general's staff to the close of the war. He was subsequently elected to Congress from a district in South Carolina, and died in the South a good many years ago. The troops remained in Memphis many weeks, and I stayed with the general until they were ready to march. He was very ill for some time with a fever, and worried all the time as to what to do to keep the soldiers from deserting. Hearing that they were going to serenade him, he concluded that when he made his speech on the balcony he would have an order ready to issue appealing to them not to disgrace themselves by yielding to the influence of letters from home, which had created so much dissatisfaction among the troops. We had a great time preparing this address and this order, because the general was almost too weak to get them into the shape in which he wished to have them. It seemed as though almost the entire Seventeenth Corps assembled on the grounds of the Lanier place on the night that they tendered him the serenade. Colonel Stephenson was to make a little speech to the general, pledging the devotion and fidelity of the troops to him and their hope that he would soon be able to be on duty again. We stood on the balcony in front of the mansion during and after the serenade. Colonel Stephenson then made his address, to which General Logan replied,  reading a copy of the order urging them to stand by their colors until they were planted on the ramparts of Vicksburg and New Orleans. He said he knew they could do it if they determined to, and that he would never order them to do anything in which he was not willing to take the lead. He fulfilled that promise to them literally, as he and his command were ever in the van until the fall of Vicksburg and the lifting of the blockade from the Mississippi. The general had a very delightful staff: Colonel Townes, Colonel Hotaling, Colonel Yorke, Colonel Lloyd Wheaton, now retired major-general of the regular army and on whose escutcheon there is not a blot after his many years of service. Major Whitehead, Major J. H. Hoover, Major Holcomb, and others were also on the staff, and were untiring in the discharge of their duties and in trying to make everything agreeable. They treated me always with the most distinguished consideration. General Logan had some cousins in his old regiment which was encamped quite a distance from where we were staying. Major Hoover wanted me to go and see them very much. I was very anxious to do so, and General Logan desired me to go and look after them and to visit the headquarters of the regiments under his command. Major Hoover had a very fine saddle-horse which he wanted me to ride when we made these visits. There was staying in the Lanier house the wife of Colonel Sloane, of the 24th Illinois. She was one of those women who are always interfering with and crossing the members of her husband's regiment. She came very near at one time breaking up the regiment altogether, and was only prevented by her husband's sending her home. She found out that Colonel Hoover was taking me around to make these visits, and was determined to go too. She asked the general if he did not think she ought to accompany us, and the general, always full of fun and liking to play practical jokes, insisted that she should join us. He ordered Hoover to get her  a horse and saddle somewhere. Hoover did not want to do it, as he disliked her excessively. “I'll give her a John Gilpin ride if she insists upon going.” The mud and water was something terrible on the morning on which we set out on this expedition, Mrs. Sloane mounted on an unreliable horse. Hoover, knowing that I could ride like a Comanche in those days, had trained the horses to follow a whistle which he gave. Away we went until we were perfectly covered with mud and water. Mrs. Sloane could not ride very well, and it was not long before she was landed in a bank of mud on the side of the road, as her horse would keep up with the others and she could not stay on. Hoover said he knew she could not get hurt, but would be covered with mud, and he would have his revenge. We had to stop and I had to take her horse and give her mine, which was a very gentle animal, and return home, as we were not presentable afterward. The general suspected that Hoover had played this trick because he had not wanted Mrs. Sloane to go. Hoover said it was not his fault. She could not ride, and he could not help it, but got the best horse he could for her. For a long time afterward the staff were regaled with Hoover's description of Mrs. Sloane's ride, hat off, hair hanging down, and clothing all awry. Such diversions were all we had to break the monotony and anxiety ever hanging over the army. The day dawned all too soon when camp was broken, and the march was begun to Lake Providence. I returned to my home to spend the next few months in unspeakable anxiety, knowing that the army was destined to invest Vicksburg. Crossing the Mississippi River, the Army of the West began its worst experiences during the war. It was proposed to invest Vicksburg, Mississippi, then supposed to be impregnable, by transferring the army by way of Lake Providence to a position below Vicksburg, recross the river, and besiege the city from above, below, and rear. The swamps and  shallow lakes of that region were fearful for men to pass through. They tried to convert them into canals, hoping they might be able to navigate some kind of a craft through them by which they could transfer the troops to Port Gibson, the point chosen to try to land below Vicksburg. After weeks of struggling with mud and water, with little success, General Logan, after conferring with General Grant, called for volunteers from his command to run the blockade on transports, protected by cotton-bales from the frowning guns that guarded the river. More men responded than they could use. Selecting from the number those whom they thought best fitted for the hazardous undertaking, they were ready in a brief time. They waited for the darkest of nights, which finally came, and then the wooden steamers with their walls of cotton cast their moorings. Not a light was visible on any of the boats, not a sound could be heard. Like the weird craft with silent crew on the River Styx, they floated on the placid river, past the mammoth guns of the forts on the river front, on to the port of their destination before the sleeping sentinel knew anything of the daring enterprise. Once below Vicksburg, the transports carried the troops with rapidity from the western to the eastern shore of the river. At Port Gibson the Confederates made their first resistance to the invading army of the Mississippi, but they were completely routed. The bayous, swamps, and impenetrable forests of that whole valley of the Mississippi made it terrible for an army to move after they had landed safely; but the tireless and undaunted troops of the West were equal to that herculean task. The battles of the Big Black, Champion Hills-one of the most brilliant of the whole war-Raymond, 22d of May, 1863, and other engagements around the beleaguered city, proved the indomitable courage and military skill of the officers and men of the Western army. General Grant, acting upon what he supposed was reliable information from Major-General John A. McClernand, one of his corps commanders, that he had  captured a section of the outer works, ordered an assault May 22, 1863. General Logan disagreed with General Grant about the wisdom of this assault, doubting the truth of the information which had been given General Grant, but as General Logan never faltered or hesitated to execute his orders, the First Brigade, Third Division of the Seventeenth Army Corps, with General Logan leading, started up the rugged sides of the hills surrounding Vicksburg. Again and again they charged, losing many gallant men in each ineffectual assault. Finally General Grant found he had been misinformed and that the whole force inside the walls had been concentrated against the Seventeenth Army Corps. He hastily ordered them to retire, and as speedily relieved the officer who had so prematurely announced a victory which he had hoped to win but which had not been accomplished. General Logan considered May 22 one of the most disastrous and fearful undertakings of any siege during his service. The almost perpendicular side of the bluffs surrounding the well-fortified city of Vicksburg, the immense advantage of the besieged over the besiegers, and the almost hopeless task of accomplishing anything made it a most unsatisfactory and ill-advised attack. For six or eight weeks the siege was continued, every day adding to the casualties of the besiegers and the discomfort and certain doom of the besieged. General Logan felt quite sure of success through the mining and sapping of Fort Hill, which was one of the strongest points in the cordon of fortifications that encircled the natural stronghold of the Confederacy. After a thorough investigation of the proposition, General Grant allowed General Logan to undertake the scheme in which he had so much confidence. His command had led the van from Lake Providence. Officers and men were anxious to continue in the lead, and were impatient to begin the work, which was to result in the explosion of Fort Hill and the making of a breach in the walls through which they might be the first to enter the city. No  finer piece of engineering was ever performed. The experience of the veteran volunteers made them expert miners and sappers, and with incredible rapidity they achieved the prodigious feat of undermining and exploding Fort Hill. General Logan's old regiment, the 31st Illinois, waited impatiently to rush into the crater for a hand-to-hand engagement with the brave men who had gallantly defended their breastworks. The conflict was of short duration, but many heroic men fell in this last sally of the Union army upon the breastworks surrounding Vicksburg. With General Logan leading the van, they marched into Vicksburg on the morning of the 4th of of July, 1863. All parts of the besieging line had been unflinchingly sustained, and no braver troops ever encompassed a fortified city than the dauntless Union soldiers who besieged and captured Vicksburg. General Logan and his command had been in the front from the beginning of the expedition; they had furnished the blockade-runners, the assaulting party on May 22, and they made the break in the fortifications by blowing up Fort Hill; consequently, General Grant felt it their due to be the first to occupy the captured city. With the fall of Vicksburg the Mississippi River was open to the Gulf of Mexico, and from that hour the fate of the Confederacy was sealed. The booming of the cannon announced the glorious victory on Independence Day, and the deafening shouts of the triumphant Union army were the death-knells of secession. General Logan was appointed commander of the post at Vicksburg, and immediately began the adjustment of affairs between the conquered and conquerors, desiring in every way in his power, consistent with fidelity to his country, to ameliorate the condition of the unfortunate people who had lived inside the walls of the besieged city. Many had lived in caves during the siege, their homes being uninhabitable because they were within the range of the guns of the Union army. They had been reduced to the last extremity, and had lived  on food never before eaten by Americans. He listened to their woes, ordered relief for thousands, and was so magnanimous in his administration as to win their admiration and gratitude. As I stood in the crater of Fort Hill, from which point I could see Grant's, Sherman's, and Logan's headquarters, and looked across the chasms made by nature between the ridges which were occupied by the contending armies at Vicksburg, I marvelled more than ever at the military genius of our great commanders, and the fearless intrepidity of the Union troops, who captured that seemingly impregnable city, justly called the Gibraltar of the Mississippi, fortified by nature and by the most skilful engineering of any age, and defended by the bravest of the brave. It is a source of infinite gratification that the great State of Illinois has built a Temple of Fame in the National Cemetery at Vicksburg, in the crater of Fort Hill, at a cost of a quarter of a million dollars, for the preservation of the names and fame of the officers and men of the seventy-five regiments who were engaged in that matchless siege and victory. The siege had lasted without cessation from early in May until July 4, 1863. Officers and men were well-nigh exhausted by the intense heat, burning sun, hot rains, and the long strain of the constant vigilance and the heavy burdens they had borne. It was deemed advisable to furlough as many as possible both of officers and men. Hastening to their homes in the North and West, they found the welcome due returning soldiers who have been valiant in their country's services. Their presence among the people soon dissipated the sentimental sympathies with the South which had been aroused over the Emancipation Proclamation. The descriptions the returning officers and soldiers gave of the dangers through which they had passed, the hardships they had endured, the sufferings they had experienced, the sacrifices they had made and witnessed as they saw their comrades fall on many bloody fields, not knowing what might be their  own fate ere the conflict ceased, caused a renewed spirit of patriotism to spread rapidly. When, therefore, at the expiration of the leave the officers and men had enjoyed, they returned to their respective commands, they knew there would be no more lukewarm support of the army in the field by the . people at home. General Logan was wanted to help win victories for the party in the local elections, which were in great doubt because of the effect of the issuance of the Emancipation Proclamation. As soon, therefore, as General Logan could get in shape the complex affairs existing after the bitter contest for possession of the Gibraltar of the Mississippi, he caused the appointment of General John Maltby, of the 45th Illinois Infantry Regiment from Galena, Illinois, as commander of the post at Vicksburg. As the city was under martial law, General Maltby would have the assistance of a competent provost marshal, and, being himself a brave and discreet man, General Logan felt that the people would soon be glad that they were once more under the protection of the Stars and Stripes. With his staff General Logan embarked upon the Mississippi River steamboat, and after a tedious journey reached home for a brief leave of absence. Southern Illinois having furnished a large quota of the troops which had been in every engagement from Forts Henry and Donelson to the surrender of Vicksburg, a great many of them had been furloughed and had arrived at their homes before General Logan. The whole population had been fired with the wildest patriotic enthusiasm by their graphic description of their experiences on the march, in camp, in hospital, and in battle from the time they left Cairo, February, 1862, till Vicksburg fell, July 4, 1863; consequently, by the time General Logan landed at Cairo his heroism, magnanimity, kindness to his men, and his military genius had been so often told by his faithful followers that he found multitudes waiting to do him honor. The citizens had told the soldiers of the reign of terror which the  Knights of the Golden Circle had exercised over the non-combatants who had been left at home. The soldiers insisted upon guarding General Logan wherever he went, following him in citizens' clothing, in much the same way as the President is guarded from assassination in these days. The welcome accorded General Logan was so spontaneous and flattering that he scouted the idea of any one doing him harm; all the same the soldiers continued their self-appointed guardianship, relieving each other from time to time as their leaves expired and they had to return to their respective commands. The local elections grew more exciting as the campaign proceeded. General Logan spoke almost daily to vast assemblages. The themes he dwelt most upon were the Emancipation Proclamation and its necessity, and the guarantee of final triumph of the Government through victories the Union army, especially the Western army, had achieved. At heart loyal to their country, they were easily won away from their temporary disaffection. Colonel R. P. Townes, Major Hotaling, Major Lloyd Wheaton, Major Hoover, and other members of my husband's staff were with us in our home in Carbondale, Jackson County, Illinois, almost all the time during General Logan's leave of absence. Dinners, excursions, picnics, balls, parties of all kinds, to which were added political demonstrations, kept all of us busy. Carbondale had an unusual number of pretty girls and the very best society south of Springfield, the capital of the State. They were all very patriotic, and had devoted much time to the soldiers, their families, and the refugees. From nearly every family some one had gone into the army or navy; hence they could not do enough for the soldiers and officers to make their brief visit delightful, and were ever ready to join in anything proposed for their entertainment and diversion. A round of pleasure was inaugurated and kept up till the very last moment of the stay of General Logan and his staff.  When the time came for their departure it was noticed that one or two of the young ladies wore engagement rings on the third finger of the left hand, and that the gallant officers said good-by to the girls they were leaving behind them with tears in their eyes and very sad faces. Their ‘--fiancees came often to me afterward to be comforted while waiting for the “cruel war” to be over. The double stars of a major-general, which General Logan had won by his distinguished service and desperate daring in the Vicksburg campaign, would, I knew, require his transfer to the command of a corps, and, knowing that an expedition against Chickamauga was being organized, General Logan was impatient for his orders. They came, all too soon for me, assigning him to the Fifteenth Army Corps, Army of the Tennessee, then under General J. B. McPherson. General Logan was delighted to serve under McPherson but sorry to leave the veterans of the Seventeenth Corps, especially his old regiment, to whose valor he felt he owed his promotion. General Frank Blair was given the Seventeenth Corps, in which were almost all the regiments that had composed the brigade and division which General Logan had commanded after his promotion to a brigadier-generalship; but as the Fifteenth and Seventeenth were both to be in the Army of the Tennessee, he felt he should be near them. General Logan always regretted that he could not have reached Chickamauga in time to have had a greater share in the battle among the clouds of Lookout Mountain. Another anxiety was his knowledge of the fact that an undercurrent of disloyalty still existed among the people on account of their Southern proclivities. The few days intervening between the receipt of his orders and his proceeding to Chattanooga to assume command of the Fifteenth Army Corps General Logan spent in making speeches for the local candidates of the Republican party and in final appeals to the people to defend the Emancipation Proclama-  Proclamation which Mr. Lincoln had issued in the name of humanity and freedom for all men. Many times when he was speaking he would be interrupted by bullies who were foolish enough to imagine they could neutralize his influence over the masses by asking questions, uttering insults, and indulging in braggadocio. These disturbers of the peace were always worsted by General Logan's replies. On one occasion he threw the glass tumbler on the stand before him squarely into the face of a bully whose insults he would not brook. The coward had to retreat to a near-by drug-store and submit to a surgeon's skill to save his face from disfigurement. It silenced all others, and enabled General Logan to do valuable service for his party as well as his country before leaving home to return to duty in the field. The continued disaffection of the troops on the question of the Emancipation Proclamation, through the influence of sympathizers with the South, and the great number of desertions, assumed a most serious aspect. In every community these deserters were hiding and adding to the feverish excitement of the public mind. The recreant soldiers found that by their act of desertion they were delighting the disloyal and rapidly undoing what they had done for the Union cause; also, that they themselves were in great trouble, as they were liable to suffer the consequences of the violation of the articles of war, so severe upon deserters. Something had to be done to secure their return to duty and at the same time avoid the expense of long trials and loss to the service of the men should they be condemned to penal servitude in the military prisons. Hence the ablest men in the country appealed to Mr. Lincoln to issue another proclamation pardoning all deserters who would return to duty on or before a given date. As can readily be imagined, the regiments and companies were speedily reinforced by great numbers who were glad to escape the consequences of their rash act in impulsively  yielding to their sympathy with Southern institutions born of prejudice and association. Victories along the lines heightened the prospects everywhere till the proposition to enlist negroes as soldiers was mooted. Again the ever-present prejudice against the negro which existed in the West and Southwest was rife, and mutterings were heard in every direction, soldiers swearing they would not serve with “niggers.” Some officers exhibited a spirit of insubordination, and but for the fact that the army was constantly on the move it would have suffered another shock of disaffection from political influence. In southern Illinois the situation was especially critical. As the majority of loyal, able-bodied men, old and young, were by this time in the army, the disgruntled sympathizers were left in full possession of every field business, politics, and everything else. These malcontents grew more and more bitter, and, while powerless to do anything but annoy, they indulged in all sorts of persecutions of furloughed Union soldiers and the families of the soldiers who were at the front. Mr. William Bandy, father of two or three Union soldiers, was taken out, tied to a tree, and whipped unmercifully for his radical sentiments. The home of an officer whose family lived in the country was entered and the household effects broken and destroyed. The animals of the Union people were butchered; the hamstrings of the horses were cut so that the poor brutes could not work the crops but had to be shot. Family feuds were increasing, murder was perpetrated, and all the horrors of civil war and its consequences, added to the never-ending solicitude for the fate of friends in the field, made life one continuous routine of anxiety and suspense, especially for those in the West whose fathers, sons, husbands, and friends were in the army. Lookout Mountain and Atlanta, in the mountain fastness, were considered almost impregnable, and the thought that the troops in the expedition were so indomitable that they  would all die in the attempt or capture these points gave occasion for constant anguish. The approach of winter and the thought of the mountainous country through which the expedition was to be made added another cause for deep concern. In addition, many of the families of the soldiers had to be provided for at home, and the refugee contrabands were becoming so numerous and such a burden to the people of the border States that it was a question of the gravest nature what to do with them. They were unfitted, physically, to take the places of the troops in industrial fields. They had already suffered much from exposure. Among the most pathetic scenes of the war was the sight of the poor, helpless creatures, black and white, who were dumped under the woodsheds on the line of the Illinois Central and Ohio and Mississippi Railroads with nothing but a few clothes and little bundles of bedding and articles of household belongings. Sick, destitute, homeless, friendless, and among strangers, in an inhospitable climate, their condition was unutterably sad. In company with noble women, who worked all the time for charity or the soldiers, we visited these people to try to alleviate their sufferings, and were deeply affected to see them, in their absolutely helpless situation, sitting or lying on the ground with folded hands, perfect pictures of despair. One white family of eight I remember were, without exception, the most cheerless and forlorn we had ever seen. The mother and six daughters were lying on the floor of an old freight depot with nothing but their scanty clothing to cover them, the old man sitting shivering with the cold. The bleak winds of November were whistling through the cracks, and they had not a morsel to eat. Our aid society had very little money, but we hoped to relieve their extreme wants, and asked the poor mother what she desired most. Imagine our consternation when, with bated breath, she said, in true Southern vernacular: “A little terbacker, if you please.” Some of the ladies declared we ought to let her die, but
|General John A. Logan in 1862. from a photograph in the Meserve collection.|
Good-by, hard work, and nebber any pay,The poor creatures providentially supplied the places of the men who were in the army. In my own case I blessed the day when they came to southern Illinois, because before that I had been, with the assistance of my companion and friend, Miss Mary E. Tuthill, obliged to play the part of man and maid of all work, feeding, currying, and caring for the animals in the barn-yard, harnessing and driving the horses, washing the buggies and carriages, and performing every species of manual labor necessary to be done, at the same time trying to help others more dependent and timid. Besides this we had to protect ourselves from annoying persecutions inflicted by the senseless sympathizers with the rebellion who were too cowardly to go South and cast their lot with the people for whom they professed so much sympathy. One day as Miss Tuthill and I were driving we passed a  colored man who sat under a tree beside the road wondering where he should go for a home, food, and clothing. Our “copperhead” rulers of the community had forbidden negroes to stop in that part of the country. I was unable to secure the services of a man servant, and was about as desperate as poor “Albert” as he sat there, an exile and a wanderer. I stopped the horse I was driving and asked the poor fellow what he was doing there and where he was going. He timidly replied: “I ain't doin‘ nuffin‘, Miss, and God knows I doesn't know whar to go. Bless de Lord, I would be glad to get sumfin‘ to do, an‘ be ‘lowed to stay sumwhar.” I told him that I wished to hire a man to work for me, and if he would come with me I would build him a little house in my yard; that if he would work and obey me, taking care of my cattle, horses, and garden, I would pay him fifteen dollars a month and give him his board. The poor creature bowed his head to the ground almost, and said: “Bless you, Missus, I would be glad to mind you and do anything in the world dat you telled me to, but I'se afeard dat the big white bosses around here won't ‘low me to stay here nohow.” I told him I would undertake to protect him if he knew how to shoot. He should have a good gun and plenty of ammunition in his house to protect himself with if anybody should molest him at night; that I was not afraid of their coming on the place in the daytime; that for a while he would have to sleep in the barn till I could put up a little house for him. He said: “Well, Miss, I leaves it all in your hands and hope de Lord will take keer of us bofe.” I directed him how to go to my house to wait for me till I should come. When I reached home he sat on the woodpile waiting for me, his face shining like the setting sun. He had taken a survey of the premises and was highly delighted, declaring to me he “nebber expected to reach de promised land so soon.” I ordered him to carry a wash-tub out to the  barn and to take a bath. I bought him a new suit of cottonade at a neighboring store, and when he presented himself at the back door soon afterward for food and orders he looked like a black prince. He was six feet tall and was a fine specimen of his race, his honest face beaming with happiness. He was more efficient in the arts of hostlery and horticulture than my friend Miss Mary Tuthill-afterward Mrs. R. N. Pearson, wife of General R. N. Pearson, of Chicago-and myself, and the poor dumb brutes and the garden soon presented an improved appearance. Not long after it was noised about that “John Logan's wife has hired a nigger to work for her, and he is on the place to stay.” They resolved that he should not do so, and that “if she did not send him away, they would go there, and send him off in a jiffy, and if she interfered to protect him, they would thrash her too.” A member of the secret organization known as the Knights of the Golden Circle, who kept up their warfare and made so much trouble for every Unionist, had been raised with me, and while he was intensely disloyal to his country he was the soul of honor and loyalty to his friends. He knew I would try to protect the colored man when they should attack him, and he could not bear the thought of any harm coming to me. So he came to me, begging that I send the “darky” away, warning me there would be trouble if I persisted in keeping him, because they were “not going to let the country be filled up with niggers.” I thought of the matter long and seriously. It seemed so outrageous that men in a free land would undertake, by mob violence, to decide who should and who should not live in the country that I was inclined to test the question and see whether or not these men, avowed enemies of the nation, should dictate to loyal people what they should or should not do. The colored man had in no wise interfered with any one. He was respectful to everybody, was sober, industrious, and was entitled to life, liberty,  and the pursuit of happiness both by the Declaration of Independence and President Lincoln's proclamation. So I told my friend James Durham that, while I appreciated beyond expression his friendship and warning, I must be frank enough to tell him I intended to keep the man and protect him to the best of my ability. It might be selfishness that prompted this decision, because I did need Albert's services, and as he wanted to stay I should certainly keep him; that if Durham would trust me still further by telling me who was going to take part in the dastardly deed of maltreating an inoffensive creature who had never even seen them I would under no circumstances betray him, but that I would make them afraid to come on my premises or to harm the negro. After some hesitancy he told me the names of the men who proposed to do the work for the society. He went away feeling much distressed and quite sure that I would have a serious experience. I waited patiently that day for one of the men, whom I knew must pass my house going into and out of the town. As soon as I spied him coming down the road on his way to town I walked out to my front gate and called to him, asking him if he would not come in a moment as I desired to see him on a matter of business. He was much embarrassed, but came in. I at once told him that I had been informed by a member of the “Circle” all about their proposed attack upon the colored man in my employ; that I was sorry to hear he was one of the most active parties in the matter; that I had a vivid recollection of having accommodated him in many ways by loaning him my horses, farming-utensils, wagons, etc.; that I should be sorry to cause his arrest and imprisonment, but I had made up my mind to single him out as the one person whom I should hold responsible for the welfare of the colored man. I told him if the colored man was molested in any way I should cause his arrest, and I thought I could prove that he had made threats of violence, not only to the  man, but to me personally if I tried to protect Albert; that Miss Tuthill, the colored man, and myself were splendid shots; that we practised daily the use of firearms; that we had a sort of arsenal for our protection; and that the slightest intrusion on the premises would be greeted with a volley from the house and from the darky's quarters near by. The frequent change of color in his face betrayed his guilt in the matter, but of course he protested innocence of any knowledge of anything of the kind and avowed his willingness to protect the “nigger” for me. I assured him it was all right as long as he was willing to be that kind of a hostage for Albert's safety; that I should only have to ask the governor for protection and the provost marshal would be ordered to arrest any one against whom I might make accusation; that all I wanted was for them to be law-abiding citizens and attend to their own affairs; that I had no desire to inform against them, but I intended to keep the colored man and defend him as long as he behaved and did the work I desired him to do. The miserable wretch was glad when the interview was over, and beat a hasty retreat after telling me not to worry — it would be all right. My friend reported to me afterward that at the next meeting of the “Circle” the fellow told them it would never do to trouble that “nigger” at John Logan's house, because he had found out that Mrs. Logan had heard about what they had talked of doing; that all their names were now in the hands of officers; that if anything waste happen to the “nigger” he was certain they would all be arrested and soldiers would be stationed there to protect Logan's family; therefore, they had better let the “nigger” alone. They did, and we kept the man long after General Logan's return home after the war, till Albert desired to go South to hunt up his family. When we paid him off he had three or four hundred dollars as the result of his labors and a partnership which he and I had had in a little cotton crop we had raised together. As he  drove away from the door on the town express, with a big trunk full of clothes, well dressed himself, and his money in his pocket, he felt as happy as if he had been a millionaire. I confess I too felt glad that I had saved at least one poor creature from being maltreated. We had taught him to read and write and trained him to be a good and useful citizen, of whom we have often heard good reports. General Logan was delayed so long in reaching Chattanooga from Vicksburg that he did not arrive there till after the battle, greatly to his disappointment, as he desired to take part in what he felt was to be a brilliant victory. After assuming command of the Fifteenth Corps, Army of the Tennessee, they were some time in moving to Huntsville, that being the objective point, but with his command stretched out about “seventy miles” he had a hard time getting them thoroughly organized and ready for the siege of Atlanta. They were much exhausted and almost destitute of good shoes and clothing for the approaching winter, which proved to be a very cold one. The supplies were slow in reaching them because of the meagre transportation. For days the troops were moving slowly, for the most part subsisting on the country. General Logan's headquarters were for some time at Bridgeport, where they had a trying experience from the inclement weather and the hardships of soldiering in the enemy's country. Finally, they reached Huntsville, Alabama, where they were more comfortable, and where all their preparations for the Atlanta campaign and siege were perfected. I had come to look upon the horrors of war with something akin to terror. During the sieges of Forts Henry and Donelson, Shiloh, Nashville, Corinth, and all the battles from Memphis to Vicksburg, and during the capture of that stronghold, so many brave men had fallen and so many widows and orphans were all around us, constantly appealing to our sympathies, that we had no respite. That “Hope long deferred maketh the heart sick” was experienced daily. It took  moral courage to face the facts of the situation, and I sometimes think a special Providence must have sustained both the people and the soldiers through these trying times. The women of the country, both North and South, bore no small part of the burden of the war, and I have vivid recollections of seeing them display moral courage of the highest order. Trained nurses and undertakers were unknown in southern Illinois. These important offices were performed by the neighbors and friends with the loving-kindness and faithfulness that can not be purchased at any price. Though quite young, it was often my melancholy duty to bear a part in these sad services. One dreary November evening, just as the sun was setting, two ladies and myself went with a poor old stricken grandfather to bury his little grandchild, the daughter of a soldier who was away at the front, and whose mother was lying ill. When we reached the cemetery there was no one near to assist him in lowering the little body into the grave. We took hold of the ropes, two standing opposite each other and one opposite the old man, and gently lowered the coffin. We then alternated in helping him to fill the grave and fashion the mound over the remains of the soldier's child. Returning with the aged grandfather, we found the poor mother rapidly sinking into the same sleep that had taken her little one out of all suffering. After a long vigil she, too, slept well, when, changing from sexton to undertaker, we prepared her poor body for the casket and remained with the family till stronger arms could be found to lay her beside her child. We never knew a woman to falter or to be found wanting no matter how trying a duty she had to perform in the field or at home, where sometimes she had to face trials greater than those on a battle-field. North and South, the women of this great nation demonstrated the heroism and devotion to their loved ones and to the ties that bound them to their homes and families.
I'm going up North, where de white folks stay,
White wheat bread and a dollar a day.
ChorusAway den, away, for I can't stay any longer,
Hurrah, boys, hurrah,
For I am going home.