“My God! Leave me here, George, and save the battery!"
"Turning to me with the revolver cocked, he demanded my firearms. We looked at each other. I told him that I had none, that I was a cannoneer. He then said, “I’ll not take your young life, but take off your overcoat and hand it up here,” and with it went the mittens that warm and noble-hearted Charley Barnes had loaned me early in the morning..."
A Wisconsin Cannoneer Remembers the Battle of Stones River
The following account was written by Private Charles Cunningham of the 5th Wisconsin Battery and published in the September 27, 1888 issue of the National Tribune until the title of "A Cannoneer's Story: The Third Gun, 5th Wisconsin Battery." This is one of my favorite Stones River accounts as it emphasizes the personal nature of combat and the bonds formed by men under fire together. Private Cunningham writes of the men that operated gun No. 3- his job was to bring up ammunition from the caissons. The men of Pinney's battery risked being overrun by the Confederates and commenced a helter-skelter retreat in which Cunningham was captured by a trooper from the 8th Texas Cavalry before General Jefferson C. Davis and his staff arrived on the scene and gave Cunningham the chance to escape back to Union lines.
Many
of the boys have asked me to write something about my experience at the battle
of Stone River, Tenn. I will therefore
leave the position of the army and battlelines, etc. to history, and confine
myself principally to those with me on the third gun thinking “Why should kind
words ne’er be said of our messmates-till they are dead.”
 |
| Colonel Philip Sidney Post |
The 5th Wisconsin battery,
commanded by Capt. Oscar F. Pinney and attached to Col. P. Sidney Post’s Brigade,
Brig. Gen. Jeff. C. Davis’s Division, and Maj. Gen. McCook’s right wing of the
army, at the above named battle, left Nashville the latter part of December
1862, and reconnoitered and skirmished as it advanced.
On
Christmas Day, the battery and brigade was sent out on a reconnaissance and
foraging expedition. I was detailed as one among the number to remain in camp
and cook rations for the men in our detachment when they returned, which
consisted of a camp kettle full of beans and a kettle of coffee. Our mess had
some robins also that the boys had caught in the canebrake near our camp the
night before. While watching the dinner cooking and writing a letter home, a
slave belonging to the plantation where we were encamped came to me and asked
me, “Would young massa jes’ as life go and hab some dinner wid him and his old
Chloe in his cabin.” I thanked him and said I would. I could not tarry long at
the slave’s quarters, bur returned to duty after enjoying a good meal. I
thought of the last Christmas at home in 1860.
On
the following morning, December 26, we broke camp and marched towards
Nolensville through a very heavy rain storm. The wheels of the artillery were
one mass of mud. The battery was engaged in the skirmish at Nolensville and did
effective work; then proceeded toward Murfreesboro or Stone River. The
army looked grand when marching in line of battle to take up their respective
positions with the silken folds of the flags and banners of blue unfurled from
regiment after regiment, while strains of music from the bands filled the air
with melody and aroused my whole soul to a sentiment I cannot describe.
On
the night of the 30th, the command bivouacked in a cedar thicket
near the enemy’s lines. No fire were allowed, so we ate our hardtack and raw
bacon with the accustomed coffee. All the cannoneers were ordered to sleep at
their posts, with accouterments on; the horses remained harnessed and hitched
up all night. Dave Welty and I were sitting on our caisson until late in the
evening. He was talking to me about his home and mother and sisters, and of the
songs they used to sing. I asked him to hum one to me and in a low, sweet tone
he hummed ‘Belle Brandon.’ We then lay down by our gun to get a little rest.
Early
next morning the 31st, we left the cedar thicket and moved until we
were rushed into action, taking a position in a cornfield. We commenced firing
briskly shot and shell, until the enemy were advancing too close, then used
canister. Clark Baker was No. 1 and his
post was at the cannon’s mouth. He stood there cool, brave, and grand. He was
in the nobility of his manhood. His coolness inspired me, the youngest boy on
our gun; and on that battlefield, with the glistening bayonets of advancing
rebel battalions. I learned that my friendship for my messmate Clark Baker was
born amid shot and shell and rebel bullets.
“And
while the battle was raging most fiercely,
And
death seemed to press ‘round us all,
He
stood so brave and undaunted,
I
trembled for fear he would fall;
And
I thought when the contest is over,
Should
we live to lie down by our gun,
I
would press the brave hand then in action,
And
tell him what the morning had done;
What
I learned in that terrible battle,
On
that field, ‘mid the shells and balls;
How
I thought I would not leave him,
If
he should be one who should fall.
Opposite
Clark stood Dave Welty, fearless and strong, in the prime of his young days,
with the expression on his fair face that each charge he inserted would do its
duty. Billy Ball was serving vent, with every movement and every feature bent
on strict duty to his country and flag. As I passed with the shot, shell, or
canister opposite to him to meet John Worick, our eyes would sometimes meet,
and told his thoughts more than words, “Which of these boys will fall?” Charley
Barnes with his warm heart and nature and unflinching firmness said to me, “We
cannot all survive these rebel bullets.” I think Will Preston handled the
lanyard. It was done with dexterity. He was an active boy, true blue, loyal,
and brave. Milt South was gunner and put
in many well directed shots, the canister being very effective. Brad W. Stout
was the Sergeant of the gun. He was a fine looking and fearless soldier; his
bearing either in the saddle or on foot was everything that could be desired.
His nature was warm and friendship sincere; he would do anything in his power
for his comrades. He knew he had a splendid detachment of men that he could
depend upon; and everybody liked Brad.
The
volleys of musketry and booming of artillery, screeching and bursting shells
with the movement of troops and the thundering of both armies, made us all know
that the battle raged fiercely and that the approaching columns of rebels were
pressing us when we saw our infantry support falling back. Many of the horses
of the battery were wounded, some dying, some killed; the riders were busy
extricating such from the limbers and caissons. Amid this ordeal, the battery
remained, firing canister at the advancing rebel ranks. Dave was wounded, but helped load the last
charge, when we were ordered to fall back. While the last gun was being
limbered up, I helped Dave mount the lead team, the rider (Charley Taft) giving
up his place to him. The blood was flowing freely from his wound, and left
crimson stains upon my overcoat. I only had time to say, knowing he would be
placed in an ambulance as soon as possible, “Good bye, Dave. I cannot begin to
tell you how sorry I feel and how I will miss you; you must hurry up and get
well and come back to us.” He replied,” So will I miss you Charley and all the
boys, but I’ll not forget you no matter where I go.”
 |
| At the outset of the battle on December 31, 1862, the 5th Wisconsin Battery was in line with the rest of Post's brigade in a line south of the Wilkinson Pike. After the initial Confederate assault drove back Willich's and Kirk's brigades to the south, Post pulled his brigade back to a line facing south and to the east of Gresham Lane in the center of this map. The line didn't hold long and roving Confederate cavalry from General John Wharton's brigade scooped up Federal prisoners by the bushel; Cunningham was briefly one of those prisoners. |
Brave
Captain Pinney and many others of the command were seriously wounded. Clark
found Mort Campbell of another gun wounded badly. He wanted to lie down. Clark
said, “No! The rebels are right after us!” He halted one of the caissons and
put him on it and held him there while passing through the woods, sending one
of the boys ahead to hold an ambulance, as he saw everything was moving back
rapidly. After placing him in the ambulance, the caisson went on.
When
that grand and noble rider “Curly” Woprick came along with a Parrott gun (the
horses were all killed except his wheel team), he was urging his horses on
until he reached the opening where there was a hill; the horses drew it half
way up and were completely tuckered out. The glorious old 59th
Illinois boys were near and falling back with the other staunch grand regiments
of our brigade. Clark asked some of the boys of the 59th if they
would help him run the gun a few rods up the hill so Curly could get it off.
They answered, “Yes, that the damn rebels shouldn’t have the gun anyway.” Some
of the boys took hold with a will and helped run the gun to the top of the
hill. If any of these boys are now living, it would be pleasant to know the
fact and hear from them.
Captain
Pinney was being taken off the field by brave young Lieut. George Q. Gardner
and Private Joe Hoffman when said to them seeing the enemy pressing onward: “My
God! Leave me here, George, and save the battery!” At his request, they
reluctantly laid him down on the battlefield with his sword by him, and in a
short time he was captured, a wounded prisoner with many others.
When
I left the field, I had two cases of canister in the gunner’s bag. Charley
Barnes had taken them out of the limber chest and laid them on the ground.
Thinking we would take another position immediately, I carried them through the
woods but abandoned one case by dropping it in a hollow stump, as they were
very heavy. When the rebel cavalry charged, the right wing of the army was
routed by the concentration of rebel forces to crush it. History shows the
cause of the disaster to that wing of the army that advanced so proudly a day
or two before.
 |
| The 1st Ohio Cavalry was one of the Federal cavalry regiments that attacked Confederate cavalry near the Wilkinson Pike in an attempt to recapture of the corps ammunition train. These slashing cavalry attacks caused enough confusion that many of the Federal troops captured by Wharton's Confederate troopers slipped away. |
Seeing
I would be taken prisoner, and that the battery was captured, I threw away the
gunner’s bag so that it would not fall into rebel hands, as it would make them
a fine haversack. I saw smoke rising from the wagon train of supplies, which
had been fired by the Texas Rangers. It proved to be our division train of
rations. I feared the ammunition train would be fired also and expected every
moment to hear the explosion. I tried to reach the center where General Thomas was
engaged, but was overtaken and captured by a Ranger who rode up on a gallop
with revolver in hand. Nearest me was an infantryman who had fired his last
cartridge and whom the Ranger shot down as he advanced. Turning to me with the
revolver cocked, he demanded my firearms. We looked at each other. I told him
that I had none, that I was a cannoneer.
He then said, “I’ll not take your young life, but take off your overcoat
and hand it up here,” and with it went the mittens that warm and noble-hearted
Charley Barnes had loaned me early in the morning, and which had been sent to
him by a young lady friend at home.
The
Ranger threw my coat upon the pommel of his saddle along with others and a silk
flag torn from its staff. I wanted to
tear it from his saddle before he galloped off. The prisoners were being
marched toward the rebel lines. I found Corporal Aaron Eley and O.D. Snow among
the number. I was in no hurry to march up for in the distance I saw our cavalry
forming, and hoped they would charge quickly. Soon General Davis and staff
appeared on the scene. A Texan nearest me fired twice at the General whom I
heard say “Kill the damn rebel!” By this time our cavalry were charging and
driving the Rangers and soon we were recaptured. I cannot express how glad I felt and started
to find our gun. The riders had left the cannoneers in all directions, trying
to save the guns. They were all brave boys.
 |
| Brigadier General Jefferson C. Davis His timely arrival with his staff escort gave Cunningham a chance to escape. |
I
found part of the battery, commanded by Lieut. George Q. Gardner, whose courage
and bravery were always conspicuous, and enhanced by being our youngest
officer. We were placed in position and the worked the guns with diminished
numbers. The evening roll call was a very sad one, and as the names were being
called and someone would answer “Killed” “Wounded” “Captured” and “Unknown.” It
made a feeling of sorrow pass over the soul. I know it was with a tremulous
voice that I answered for Dave. We lay down that night by our posts, ready for
action at a moment’s notice. I thought of the night before and of my messmate
Dave as I lay beside Clark, by the gun, whose cheeks were streaked with the
powder and smoke of the morning’s battle; and his hand that had handled the sponge
and rammer so bravely and fearlessly, and that had helped the wounded man and
saved his life; that had helped to get the gun off the field, and at his post
at the cannon’s mouth as soon as our gun was in position again-that hand was
resting; it had nobly done its duty.
New
Year’s day we changed position and in the afternoon crossed Stone River to
reinforce the left wing. The water came rushing down madly over the ford, and
almost came up to the ammunition chests. We were placed behind hastily
constructed works. The sharpshooters kept up a continual firing at us. Our
rations were short, as our commissary supplies had been burned by the rebels
the day before. Brad had a partly cured pickled ham given him by an infantry
soldier, he having foraged two from a house on the picket line. Some of us ate
it raw, while others roasted slices on a stick over the coals. During a lull in
the contest, Clark went to a house on the picket line in the face of the
sharpshooters to get some of the meat for us. None of us would risk our lives,
even if we were hungry; but the bold attempt was unrewarded for the barrel had
been emptied of its contents by other pickets.
Every
soldier present will remember the terrible grandeur of the battle with the
center; the roar and the booming of artillery, the thrilling volley after
volley of musketry, and the incessant crash from both armies. It was a dreadful
and indescribable tempest. Only a soldier knows what it was.
When
the enemy evacuated Murfreesboro, we recrossed the river and camped by the
Nashville pike. I found a chunk of salt pork in the road in the mud which did
good service. I obtained permission from Lieutenant Charley Humphrey to go and
see Captain Pinney with other of the boys. We found him in a planter’s mansion,
which the rebels used as a hospital. I went upstairs with my heart filled with
sorrow. When I entered the room, he reached out his hand to take mine and in
his pain he said: "I am glad you came to see me. Charley, you must think
something of your captain. Am glad you escaped unharmed. You must take care of
yourself, my boy, I won’t be with you.”
When
we went into camp in the timber near the Shelbyville pike, the strongest and
bravest hearts more forcibly felt the bond that bound us together as companions
in arms. Dave’s blanket was not unfolded as it had been a few nights before
when we lay down together by the old third gun. But Clark, and Brad, and
Charley, and Bill, and the others members of the detachment were there. I felt
proud of each one. I thought more of the boys on the other guns and those who
commanded us. Of the riders on the third gun, the beauty of each one’s
character in battle shines with the same brilliancy as the cannoneers. And no
doubt in the army, life ‘round the other guns, and on picket lines, and in battle,
in camp or on the march, many of the boys in blue have had an experience
similar to my own with some comrades with whom they have messed and bunked in
the army days.
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