lted from this plunging fire, though, I am free to
confess, at first our nerves were often upset by the whirring of
twenty-pounder shells dropped inconsiderately into our camp at
untimely hours of the night.

In a few days rain began to fall, and the mountain roads by which our
supplies came were fast growing impracticable. Each succeeding train
of wagons took longer to make the trip from Bridgeport, and the draft
mules were dying by the hundreds. The artillery horses would soon go
too, and there was every prospect that later the troops would starve
unless something could be done. Luckily for my division, a company
of the Second Kentucky Cavalry had attached itself to my
headquarters, and, though there without authority, had been left
undisturbed in view of a coming reorganization of the army incidental
to the removal of McCook and Crittenden from the command of their
respective corps, a measure that had been determined upon immediately
after the battle of Chickamauga. Desiring to remain with me, Captain
Lowell H. Thickstun, commanding this company, was ready for any duty
I might find, for him, so I ordered him into the Sequatchie Valley
for the purpose of collecting supplies for my troops, and sent my
scout, Card along to guide him to the best locations. The company
hid itself away in a deep cove in the upper end of the valley, and by
keeping very quiet and paying for everything it took from the people,
in a few days was enabled to send me large quantities of corn for my
animals and food for the officers and men, which greatly supplemented
the scanty supplies we were getting from the sub-depot at Bridgeport.
In this way I carried men and animals through our beleaguerment in
pretty fair condition, and of the turkeys, chickens, ducks, and eggs
sent in for the messes of my officers we often had enough to divide
liberally among those at different headquarters. Wheeler's cavalry
never discovered my detached company, yet the chances of its capture
were not small, sometimes giving much uneasiness; still, I concluded
it was better to run all risks than to let the horses die of
starvation in Chattanooga. Later, after the battle of Missionary
Ridge, when I started to Knoxville, the company joined me in
excellent shape, bringing with it an abundance of food, including a
small herd of beef cattle.

The whole time my line remained near the iron-mills the shelling from
Lookout was kept up, the screeching shots inquisitively