Riding For the Flag by Jim R. Woolard

Author:Jim R. Woolard [Woolard, Jim R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2015-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

January 1862 had blustered forth with cold rain and icy sleet storms, and camp life for Morgan’s Squadron morphed into a dreary, miserable existence. The routine chores of cooking over an open fire; gathering firewood; procuring horse fodder; watering, grooming, and shoeing horses; sink digging; and carting off trash and manure seemed doubly difficult for men constantly burdened with wet clothing in the absence of gum ponchos. Keeping riding gear, saddle blankets, weapons, powder, and rations dry shrank tent space and had men sleeping spoon fashion like old-time surveyors lacking shelter.

In the persistent, penetrating cold, a dozen diseases struck at once. Measles, typhoid, pneumonia, and dysentery spread through the camp at Bell’s Tavern with alarming speed. One morning, the camp runner for Field Peterson’s mess, Corporal Grubb, he of the pencil-thin yellow mustache, awakened with a rash on his face and chest. With a quick look inside Grubb’s mouth, Peterson detected the red spots associated with measles. The sergeant had lost three of his siblings to the disease, and aware of its rapid contagion and after a consultation with Captain Morgan, he provided Grubb with rations and a sound mount and sent him home to Glasgow to recover. With Grubb’s departure, Peterson called the mess together and informed them that Captain Morgan, upon Peterson’s recommendation, had promoted Judah Bell to the rank of corporal. Though it was a roundabout path to promotion in Judah’s mind, the cheers and back slapping following Peterson’s announcement eclipsed any feelings he was taking advantage of Grubb’s illness.

“Lord almighty,” Judah said when asked to say a few words by the mess, “I hope Corporal Grubb has more success overcoming the measles than he did growing a mustache.” The resulting laughter brightened what promised to be an otherwise drab morning.

January’s bad news continued in a steady stream. Morgan’s Squadron learned on 28 January of the defeat of General Zollicoffer’s Confederate forces by George H. Thomas’s Union Army at Mills Springs in eastern Kentucky, a defeat costing Zollicoffer his life and imperiling the thin Southern line of defense stretching westward from Cumberland Gap through Three Corners to Bowling Green. Gloom spread throughout Bell’s Tavern and poisoned the atmosphere among troopers for a solid week. Judah and Field Peterson were caught in those same doldrums, and the invitation to accompany Captain Morgan on a special raid was the perfect balm for disheartened troopers anxious for action no matter how dangerous; so anxious both officers ignored the damp smell of rain in the late evening air.

The nine troopers picked from Company A by Lieutenant Basil Duke to accompany Captain Morgan met in his headquarters office at seven o’clock. Morgan was dressed in the civilian clothing he had donned for the attack on the Woodsonville depot. The garb of his small command was so nondescript it was difficult to deem them regular Confederate soldiers. The designation as “Home Guards” was more fitting.

“The Yankees have established a base camp in a log church south of Lebanon. I suspect they’re planning to

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