fternoon of March 8th the Colonel came to
our company headquarters and said he wanted the company to mount and go
in pursuit of a body of rebel cavalry said to be in the neighborhood.
Just as the order was issued an Orderly from Mitchell's headquarters
rode up excitedly and reported that John Morgan had captured the
regimental wagon-train, on its way out to camp with supplies, burned the
wagons and taken off teamsters, horses, and mules. And this only one
mile from camp--almost under our noses! Our Colonel's blood was up in an
instant, and in stentorian voice he shouted, "Company C, turn out with
your rifles!" This "_with your rifles_" had a flavor of business about
it, and the response was not only quick, but nearly unanimous.
Evidently, there was to be "music in the air," and there was an anxiety
to have the rifles come in at the right moment with the Bass. Four other
companies were ordered out. Then came the command, "Company C, forward
with the rifles!" and we dashed forward up the pike toward Nashville.
The report received was not a "grape-vine." Something near two miles
from camp, in the middle of the pike, were the ruins of our
wagon-train--some wagons still burning and some already in ashes. The
teamsters and animals were gone and no signs of friend or foe.

As afterward learned, the attacking party were Lieut.-Col. Wood with a
body of Mississippi cavalry and John Morgan's command. They had first
quietly taken in the pickets and then made a dash, from the woods, on
the train, capturing, with the teamsters, Capt. Braiden, an Aide of Gen.
Dumont's. Gen. Mitchell himself barely escaped capture, having ridden
along the pike about the same time. A halt was called and the road
examined to ascertain which way the enemy had gone. The trace was found
leading east through the woods. One Company was sent back to get
re-enforcements, and, with them, to strike into the timber from the
regimental camp to try and intercept the raiders. The original party,
headed by Col. Kennett, dashed into the woods, and then occurred a chase
the parallel to which has seldom been seen. "Forward!" was the word, and
forward it was. The woods became a thicket, sometimes apparently
impassable; but the horses, spurred by their riders, dashed at headlong
speed through the trees, through the underbrush, under branches--thorns
scratching the face and hands, projecting limbs tearing clothes and
bruising bodies. Down hill and up hill, through marsh and