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Battle of Richmond, Kentucky.
August 30, 1862, 12 o'clock. On the battle field.
We have had a hard fight of three hours duration, have routed the enemy with great slaughter, and are now resting in an apple orchard.
About daylight we were in line of battle, and moved forward about two miles, when we filed off into the turnpike and resumed the rout step.
We were under the impression that the enemy had fled as usual upon our approach, and were marching quietly and carelessly along about 8 o'clock, when all of a sudden, like a clap of thunder in a clear sky, the report of a cannon rung out on the morning air and a shell came whizzing over our heads.
The head of the column immediately filed off into the woods and we were again drawn up in battle array.
‘Forward, march!’
shouted our gallant
Colonel Fitzgerald, and the gray line steadily advanced through a heavy fire from the
Yankee batteries, until we reached a rail fence, where we encountered the infantry, who were strongly posted on the opposite side of an old field, and from the skirt of the woods opened on us with a galling volley of musketry.
And a desolating fire it was, for it deprived the One Hundred and Fifty-fourth Tennessee regiment of its beloved leader.
The brave and gallant
Fitzgerald fell dead from his horse before he heard our shout of victory.
He was shot through the heart and expired instantly.
Colonel Fitzgerald entered the
Confederate service as
Captain of a company raised in
Paris, Tenn., where he was a promising young lawyer.
At the reorganization of the One Hundred and Fifty-fourth Tennessee, at
Corinth, he was elected
Colonel, and by his kind consideration of the comfort of his men had won for himself the esteem of the entire regiment.
He was universally popular, and his loss will be severely felt.
His first, last, and only command in action was, ‘Forward, march!’
Dr. Barbour, and
Billy Goodlett, of the ‘Maynard Rifles,’ were both wounded by the same volley that cut short the brilliant career of the chivalric young
Fitzgerald.
We held our position behind the fence for some minutes under a continous stream of fire, wondering why we were not ordered to charge, when all at once a tremendous roar of musketry broke out on the flank of the enemy, and
Lieutenant-Colonel Mageveney, who had assumed command of the regiment, rode along the lines, and in his rich Irish brogue, shouted: ‘Mount the fence lads; mount the fence, and at 'em; charge!’
No sooner was the command given, than one wild
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yell arose from the ranks of the old One Hundred and Fifty-fourth, and leaping over the fence, we charged through the open field in the face of a perfect storm of bullets, and scattered the enemy like chaff before the wind.
As they turned to fly, we opened fire with our Enfield rifles, and mowed them down like grass.
The flanking column closed in on the right, and their rout was complete.
A gallant officer mounted on a white horse was seen with sword in hand, making a desperate effort to rally the flying columns, and reform the broken lines on a commanding eminence, but a well directed volley was poured into the disorganized blue mass, and horse and rider disappeared.
The enemy continued their flight hotly pursued by our victorious troops, and left the ground covered with their dead and wounded.
We have captured a large number of prisoners, and they are still coming in.
General Cleburne is wounded.
Two o'clock P. M. We have had another fight, and have again routed the enemy and driven him in confusion from a strong position in the open fields.
His artillery was well posted, and the shot and shell tore through our ranks as we advanced to the attack, but such was the impetuosity of our charge, and such the demoralization of the enemy, that their line was easily broken, and the shout of victory again went up from the
Confederate ranks.
We have had a beautiful battle-ground, and could plainly see every movement of the enemy before we came within range of their fire.
We are now resting in sight of their camp, and the white tents look very tempting.
But they are shelling us, and we will have to take the battery.
I thank God for my escape from injury so far. One of the prisoners reports that they have eighteen thousand fresh troops coming up to reinforce their army, but I feel confident of our ability to hold the field, trusting not in numbers, but in the God who rules over the earth and defends the right.
The firing has ceased, but we will probably have more of it before night.
Our army is elated with success and flushed with victory, while the enemy are demoralized and dispirited by continuous defeat.
General Preston Smith is now in command of the division, as
General Cleburne is disabled by his wound.
Colonel Vaughn, of the Thirteenth Tennessee, commands the brigade, and
Lieutenant-Colonel Mageveney commands the regiment
Seven o'clock P. M. The curtain has dropped.
The dark and bloody tragedy is closed, and we are in possession of the town of
Richmond.
The enemy made a last desperate stand on the outskirts of the town, and fought us with great gallantry, contesting every
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inch of ground, and slowly retreating before our steady and determined advance.
They fought us from behind haystacks and hedges, but all in vain.
We were determined to win the fight, and we won it. Just as the sun was sinking we drove them from behind the tombstones in the graveyard, pursued their flying columns through the town, and the citizens of
Richmond heard the
Confederate shout of victory, and saw our battle-flags waving in triumph over the long gray line that filed through their streets.
Captain Sterling Fowlkes, of the One Hundred and Fifty-fourth regiment, was killed just as we entered the town.
He was
Captain of the
Zouave Cadets, a brave soldier, and a most accomplished young officer.
His death will be deeply lamented.
It is a costly victory when two such men as
Fitzgerald and
Fowlkes yield up their lives.
General Preston Smith rode up to our regiment as we were formed in the streets of
Richmond, and congratulating us on our victory said: ‘Boys, there is one thing I have to say, the old One Hundred and Fifty-fourth can't be whipped.’
We have had a terrible experience to-day.
Without food and without water we have been on the double quick, charging infantry and artillery through open fields, and climbing fences under a galling fire, and yet not a man faltered.
The gaps made in the ranks by the enemy's fire would close up, and with a determination to conquer or die, our invincible column moved forward, sweeping the field before its fiery onslaught.
We have fought over about ten miles of ground, and rest to-night in a lovely grove just outside the town of
Richmond.
The 30th day of August will ever be memorable in the history of our country, as marking one of the most brilliant victories ever achieved by Confederate arms.
And now with gratitude to God for my singular preservation through all the dangers of this bloody day, and a tear for the lamented dead, who have laid their lives upon the altar of our dear native land, I will seek ‘tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep,’ on a soft carpet of blue grass.
Sunday, August 31.—We have rested all day, and will probably move on to
Lexington to-morrow.
Our victory yesterday was a glorious one.
We captured all of the enemy's artillery and five thousand prisoners.
General Nelson, who was in command of the
Federals, was wounded.
We also captured the enemy's wagon-train with quartermaster and commissary stores in great abundance.
Spent the morning inspecting the fruits of our victory and in gazing with absorbing interest at the long line of prisoners that we were fighting yesterday.
Our cavalry intercepted the retreating army of Federals and brought in a long line of prisoners this morning.
One
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of our boys in gray recognized his brother in blue among the prisoners and gave him a bountiful supply of rations.
One of the sad features of this bloody war is that it is a fratricidal strife.
Brother is arrayed in arms against brother, father against son, and friend against friend.
Especially is this the case among the troops of
Kentucky, where there is such serious division of sentiment in families, some in unnatural sympathy with the
Federals who are seeking to subjugate us and enforce a union that we do not desire, and some in sympathy with the
Confederates who are battling for the sacred rights of independence and confederation.
It was quite affecting to witness the meeting between the two brothers, one a ragged, war-worn and half-starved Confederate, and the other a well-dressed and well-fed Federal.
Yesterday they were enemies and would have shot each other down in the heat of battle.
To-day they are friends and the
Confederate ministers to the bodily comfort of his Federal brother.
Such are the reversible fortunes of war.
Richmond is a beautiful little town, and the private residences have an air of elegance and wealth.
The church buildings are very handsome, which indicates a refined, generous and cultured people.
We are encamped in one of the most beautiful groves that I ever saw. To my mind the
Arcadian grove would not be a sweeter resting-place than this lovely spot.
Rations are now abundant, and we are enjoying the luxury of genuine coffee and sugar.
I feel thankful that our Sabbath rest has not been disturbed by the rude clash of arms
September 1.—Left
Richmond early this morning and marched eighteen miles. We crossed
Kentucky river without opposition, as the demoralized
Yankees fled on our approach.
We are now marching through one of the wealthiest regions of
Kentucky and find the sentiment of the people almost unanimously Southern, it being a rare exception to meet with an avowed Union man. The
Kentuckians seem to be frantic with joy over the appearance of a Confederate army in their State, and have already began the organization of a regiment at
Richmond.
It was hard to leave our blue-grass beds, but a soldier can't expect to sleep on a downy bed of ease every night.
September 2.—We camp to night only four miles from
Lexington.
The enemy continue to fly before our victorious advance, and we expect to make a triumphal entry into the city of
Lexington tomorrow.
September 3, Lexington, Ky.—This morning at 9 o'clock, our victorious army marched through the streets of
Lexington, flushed with
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success and bouyant with joyous excitement.
At the head of the column marched the regimental band, filling the air with the inspiring strains of martial music, followed by the long line of gray, with bayonets fixed and banners floating proudly in the breeze.
We could not have met with a more enthusiastic reception if the old One Hundred and Fifty-fourth, senior regiment of Tennessee volunteers, had marched down Main street in
Memphis, after its baptism of blood at
Belmont.
It was a proud moment for the
Southern army.
The morning was lovely and heaven seemed to give us its gracious benediction.
It was a perfect ovation.
The streets of the beautiful city were lined with fair women and brave men. Confederate flags waved over our heads and floated from the windows, and as we filed through the streets under a canopy of white handkerchiefs, cheer upon cheer rose in one harmonious volume of enthusiasm for
Jefferson Davis and the
Southern boys.
In the distance could be seen the handsome monument of
Henry Clay, and I felt profoundly grateful and happy over the thought, that the resting-place of
Kentucky's great statesman was no longer polluted by the tread of
Lincoln's hireling soldiery.
If
Henry Clay were alive to-day would he not join in the hearty welcome extended by
Lexington to the soldiers of the
Confederate cause, and raise his eloquent voice in defence of the principles for which we contend?
September 4.—Have spent the day in
Lexington wandering about the beautiful streets and feasting my eyes on the pretty, rosy-cheeked girls.
The great chieftain,
John Morgan, came into the city last night.
He is a splendid type of the
genus homo, and seems to be a perfect idol with the people.
They gather around him in groups and listen with wondering admiration to the recital of his daring adventures.
Recruiting is going on rapidly, and
Kentucky is enlisted in the cause of freedom.
My good friend,
Tony Bartlett, introduced me to the family of
Mrs. Winslow, where we spent a delightful evening and enjoyed a social cup of tea.
September 5.—Left
Lexington at sunrise and marched eighteen miles on the
Maysville pike.
The march was very severe.
Weather hot and roads dusty.
September 6.—Marched twelve miles, and are now resting at Rudder's Mill.
Passed through
Paris early this morning and turned off into the
Covington road.
Sunday, September 7.—Marched twelve miles (more than a Sabbath day's journey) and are camping to-night near
Cynthiana.
The Southern feeling is strong thoughout the country and recruiting is going
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on rapidly.
Many of the fair daughters of the land visited our camp this evening and expressed great sympathy for the
Rebels.
September 8.—We camp to-night two miles from
Georgetown, and after marching four days, find ourselves only fourteen miles distant from
Lexington.
We can't understand the circle in which we are moving.
General Preston Smith's brigade is alone, and I suppose that our General is taking his boys to see the
capitol of the
State.
Marched eighteen miles.
