Marching to Kentucky with the 39th Alabama
It had been over a month since the men of the Army of Mississippi under the command of General Braxton Bragg had departed their camps at Tupelo, Mississippi, and finally, as Bragg had promised, they were flinging their banners to the breeze and marching towards Kentucky. The first major challenge after leaving Chattanooga was to cross Walden's Ridge and the Cumberland Mountains, a daunting task as recalled by Captain Thomas J. Cox of the 39th Alabama.
"Sauntering forth this morning exhausted, sleepy, and stupid from the excessively tough march of yesterday with the hope of shaking off my lethargy," was how the Alabamian began his letter written from Pikeville, Tennessee on September 3, 1862. The road across Walden's Ridge, "doubtless the roughest in the South," made for slow going, but the prospect of advancing on the Yankees buoyed the men's spirits. "Our boys, not withstanding the unprecedented privation, are buoyant and confident. Constant motion, unlike inactivity, ensures them to hardships and begets a spirit of enthusiasm," Cox wrote.
Captain Cox wrote the following two letters as Bragg’s army marched through the mountains of Tennessee in the momentous early days of September 1862. These letters first appeared in successive issues of the Columbus Daily Sun on September 16 and 17, 1862.
Camp at Pikeville, Tennessee
September 3, 1862
Sauntering
forth this morning exhausted, sleepy, and stupid from the excessively tough
march of yesterday with the hope of shaking off my lethargy and “to see what
was to see” in my peregrinations over the village, I have found a good denizen
whose spry-looking daughter conducts me to a table and furnishes ink to write a
few hasty lines.
Leaving Smith’s
Crossroads at the base of the mountain called Walden’s Ridge after a man who
froze to death on it years ago. We left at 8 o’clock yesterday and arrived
here, a distance of 16 miles, and midnight last night. Several wagons were
capsized crossing it and two mules belonging to the train were killed. The
reasons for reducing our baggage to such an infinitesimal bulk now becomes
apparent.
The brigade
will probably remain here today to rest the men and repair wagons broken in
coming over the mountain, doubtless the roughest in the South, and the most
fatiguing march made by Confederate soldiers during the war. Our brave boys
unmurmuringly submit to the hardships, being animated by the love of liberty “which
the clear spirit doth raise, to scorn delights and live laborious days.”
We have yet to
cross the Cumberland, the one spoken of (Walden’s Ridge) being only a spur of
it. Pikeville is the county seat of Bledsoe County situated midway with the
Sequatchie Valley lying between them. The country on this ridge is level for
several miles, then breaks off abruptly and precipitately in a little less than
a perpendicular direction. A stiff breeze blows all the time and is delightful
in the summer season. Ledges of rock many feet in diameter protrude above the
land. Viewing it from the valley, the opaque surface of these formed layer upon
layer present a pleasing contrast to the verdant growth upon it.
The many
defiles and gorges here formed are curious phenomena. Clans of Union men
secreted in these defiles known as bushwhackers have shot several of our best
soldiers. The dry sloughs, with beds of innumerable rock of all kinds, sizes,
and shapes, making off from the hills in the valleys are interesting oddities.
The buckle and pawpaw, small bushes farther South, grow to large size here.
Residents look healthy and never wear that sallow look so common among the
people of Georgia and Alabama.
The enemy are in force at McMinnville some 35 miles from here and rumor says are fortifying with all possible promptitude. Bragg’s army is moving rapidly forward- it may be to attack him in entrenchments or to cut him off. Kirby Smith and Price are in his rear. A few days will suffice to develop our purposes. An engagement is expected and would seem to be inevitable in a short time.
Camp near Sparta, Tennessee
September 6, 1862
After a five
days’ march, we are in close proximity to Buell or rather his deserted camps
for becoming panic-stricken, he has retreated before our advancing army. His
skedaddle does not at all surprise us. Where the buzzards have flown, we know
not but Bragg will certainly find their roost. McMinnville, the theater of his
dramatic exodus, is 25 miles from here.
The movements
of our army are somewhat mystified. It is uncertain whether we follow in the
wake of the terrified host or circumvent their operations, albeit the latter
policy is probable and much more feasible. The enemy are in close quarters and
should this army move above them, must encounter Seylia and Charybdes in
extrication. Suspense is of short duration for the army is pressing rapidly
forward and our haste must soon culminate in battle. Our boys, not withstanding
the unprecedented privation, are buoyant and confident. Constant motion, unlike
inactivity, ensures them to hardships and begets a spirit of enthusiasm.
The land here
is fertile and people look more like folks. The ladies in the neat village of
Sparta as we passed through waved us on amid vociferous cheers which made the
welkin ring. Most of the citizens in that portion of Tennessee through which we
have passed belong to the mediocrity and are ignorant and disaffected. The women,
horribile dictu [Latin: horrible to say], go barefooted and look like a piece of calico tied around a
lamppost.
The drum is beating for the regiment to leave so I must close. Will write whenever I can.
Source:
Letters from Captain Thomas J. Cox, Co. B, 39th
Alabama Infantry, Columbus Daily Sun (Georgia), September 16 & 17,
1862, pg. 2
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