Marching To Green River

One thing I have put up on this site lately are things that have to do with my current research and writing projects for my next book. It's still a long way off, but I think so many of these stories are really interesting, and even though I cannot put entire sources in the book, I can at least put some of them here. Below is one of them. This letter was written by a soldier in the 15th Ohio, a part of Richard Johnson's brigade, as they marched from Camp Nevin to Munfordville on the Green River in December 1861. There are a ton of interesting little details that I think most people will appreciate.

Image by Adolph Metzner, 32nd Indiana

Army Correspondence.

Camp George Wood, Ky.,

Co. I, 15th Regt. O. V. I.

Dec. 13, 1861.

Editor Post:—I gladly seize my pen this morning to tell you all about that great battle on Green River.

We left Camp Nevin on Monday last, in the midst of a drenching rain, each one carrying his load of from 40 to 60 pounds through the mud which was four or five inches deep; we had marched but a few miles when our gallant officers, the Colonel, the Lieut. Colonel and Major, dismounted their horses, shouldered muskets and marched with their men, while the smaller boys and those least able to travel, took turns in riding their horses. Night found us 16 miles from camp, while other regiments grew weary and fainted by the wayside, two of the 15th were all on hand pitching our tents, for the shades of night were already closing upon us. 8 P. M., tents all pitched and many a weary limb stretched upon their humble couches to rest for the night. At 10 o’clock I left my tent to get my blanket out of the wagon, and there I saw our ever watchful Colonel stretched upon the damp ground with his saddle for a pillow, a thin blanket and the canopy of heaven for a covering; the bright moon and twinkling stars looking him full in the face, as he lay meditating, perhaps on the future welfare of his men.

Tuesday morning, 9 A. M.; tents all struck and loaded, knapsacks packed and we marching by platoons for Green River, distant 24 miles. The clouds of the previous day have all vanished and given place to the rays of a warm Kentucky sun. Nothing of importance occurred through the day as we marched along, save the passing of Generals McCook and Rousseau with their aids. We arrived here at 4 P. M. and pitched our tents. At 5 P. M. our company was detailed for picket guard to watch the fording of the river one mile from camp. Five men were placed on the bank of the river, the reserve fell back a few rods from the river and laid down, as they were wearied from marching; those on the bank were relieved every three hours. It commenced raining about 9 or 10 o’clock, and rained incessantly till 12 or 1 o’clock when it commenced getting colder. I laid down on the ground with no shelter but my blanket and was soon lulled to sleep by the pattering of the rain on my blanket, then I had pleasant dreams of home and the dear ones left behind; but alas, in the midst of those pleasant dreams I was aroused; my turn to watch had come. I with four others had been there watching about one hour and a half and the day was just beginning to break when we were startled by the report of 20 or 30 guns from the opposite shore, followed in rapid succession by as many more. Our brave young Captain quickly but coolly leaped forward as the bullets whistled by our ears and commanded Company I to return the fire, when his brave boys quickly made their muskets talk so loud and sharp that the cowardly devils had to run. Fortunately for us they aimed too high, their bullets passed from 6 to 15 feet above our heads, striking the trees like hail a few rods to our rear; but three of our men fell, and as I afterward learned, they had only stumbled as they reached for their guns.— The rebel loss I did not learn. We afterwards learned they were cavalry men numbering about 100, armed with carbines and Minnie rifles. Our Captain, though young, exhibited great coolness and bravery during the whole affair.

We expect warm times here until the bridge across Green River (lately burned by the secesh) is repaired, our men are now at work, we will then route Buckner at Bowling Green and march victoriously into Nashville.

Yours as ever,

CANT,