The great railroad chase.
The most remarkable and thrilling railroad adventure that ever occurred on the American continent, was that which happened to the twenty-two members of an expedition sent out by the Union General O. M. Mitchel, to destroy the communication on the Georgia State Railroad, between Atlanta and Chattanooga. The expedition itself, in the daring of its conception, possessed the wildness of a romance, and which, had it been successful, would have suddenly and completely changed the whole aspect of the war in the South and Southwest. It was as sublime in the results aimed at, as it was daring in execution; for it would have given full possession of all East Tennessee to the Union forces, which, moving then on Lynchburg, would have had the valley of Virginia at their mercy, and could have attacked Stonewall Jackson in the rear. In addition,, to this advantage, they would have held the railroad to Charlottesville and Orange Court House, as well as the Southside railroad leading to Petersburg and Richmond; and thus, by uniting with McClellan's army, could have attacked the rebel General Joe Johnston's army, front and flank. driven him from Virginia, and flanked Beauregard [192] This admirable coup daetat, the sagacity and importance of which challenged even the warmest admiration of the Confederates themselves, as being “the deepest laid scheme, and on the grandest scale, that ever emanated from the brains of any number of Yankees combined,” was planned and set on foot in April, 1862, by Mr. J. J. Andrews, a citizen of Kentucky, who had been previously engaged in the secret service of the United States Government. The plan of operations which he proposed was to reach a point on the State road, where they could seize locomotive and train of cars, and then dash back in the direction of Chattanooga, cutting the telegraph wires and burning the bridges behind them as they went, until they reached their own lines. The party, consisted of twenty-four men, who, with the exception of its leader, Mr. Andrews, and another citizen of Kentucky, William Campbell by name — who volunteered as substitute for a soldier — were selected from different companies of the Second, Twenty-first, and Twenty-third Ohio regiments, with particular reference to their known courage and discretion. These brave men were informed that the movement was to be a secret one, and doubtless comprehended something of its perils; but Mr. Andrews and one other alone seem to have known any thing of its precise direction and object. They all, however, cheerfully and voluntarily engaged in it; and before starting, Andrews divided among them seven hundred dollars of Confederate scrip, informed them that they were now venturing upon important and dangerous duty, and threatened to shoot on the spot the first man that got drunk or flinched in the least. They then made their way through the lines in parties of two and three, [193] in citizens' dress, and carrying only side arms, to Chattanooga, the point of rendezvous agreed upon, where twenty-two out of the twenty-four arrived safely. Here they took passage, without attracting attention, for Marietta, which place they reached at twelve o'clock on the night of the 11th of April. The next morning, before daylight, they took the cars and went back on the same road to a place called Big Shanty, a regular stopping-place for refreshments, and where, within forty or fifty yards of the road, some twenty thousand Confederate troops were encamped, it being a general rendezvous for recruits and the organization of regiments. The train upon which the conspirators were, contained, also, a number of soldiers, as well as citizens, together with a quantity of provisions, and an iron safe containing a large amount of Confederate money, designed for the payment of the rebel troops at Corinth, Mississippi. Here, for the first time, they knew the nature of their duty, which was to destroy the track and bridges from Big Shanty, to and beyond Chattanooga, or as far as Bridgeport, Tennessee. This section of the road is built over innumerable creeks and rivers; and as General Mitchel had already cut off all communication from Corinth, by holding Huntsville, Alabama, the destruction of bridges which they were expected to effect, would have completely prevented rebel reinforcements and commissary stores from reaching Virginia, Tennessee, and Georgia.At Big Shanty, therefore, the train stopped for breakfast, and passengers, conductor, engineer, and “hands,” all went into the saloon, and were soon engaged in enjoying their matutinal meal. The conspirators were [194] prompt to seize the golden moment of opportunity now offered to them. Leaving the cars, they quietly and naturally grouped together in squads of three and four, taking station with apparent carelessness on each side of the train, Andrews stationing himself at the coupling pin of the third car. A number of their party were engineers, and thoroughly understood the business in hand. One of these engineers was at his post, and found every thing right. All hands then quickly mounted the cars, although the guard was within three feet of them; the word was given, Andrews drew the coupling pin and cried, “All right!” The engineer opened the valve and put on all steam, and the train, now consisting of three box cars and the engine, moved quietly but swiftly off-leaving rebel conductor, engineer, passengers, spectators, and the soldiers in the camp near by, all lost in amazement, and dumbfounded at the strange, startling, and daring act. And now commenced the most exciting railroad race and chase, which it has ever fallen to the pen of historian to describe. They soon lost sight of the lights at Big Shanty station, and at the first curve the train was stopped just long enough to allow one of the party to climb the telegraph pole and cut the wires. Starting again, they pushed along — making stops here and there to tear up the track, and taking with them on the cars a few of the rails thus removed. But unforseen difficulty now began to meet them. According to the schedule of the road, of which Mr. Andrews had possessed himself, they should have met but a single train on that day, whereas they met three, two of which were engaged on extraordinary service. and they were compelled to switch off and let them [195] pass. At the first station where this happened, the engineer of the road made his appearance, and was about to step on the engine, when Andrews told him he could not come on board, as this was an extra train running through to Corinth, and that his party were engaged to run it, and in support of his assertion the iron safe was shown. This apparently satisfied the engineer, and after taking in wood and water, the train again started. A second time they were compelled to switch off, and in order to get the switch-keys, Andrews, who knew the road well, went into the station and took them from the office. This caused considerable excitement, which he partly quieted by stating that the train contained gunpowder for Beauregard, at Corinth. About an hour was lost in waiting to allow these trains to pass, which, of course, enabled their pursuers to press closely after them. But they pushed on as rapidly as possible, removing rails, throwing out obstructions along the track, and cutting the telegraph lines from time to time-attaining, when in motion, a speed of sixty miles per hour-but they could not regain the time which they had lost. Reaching a bridge about twenty miles south of Dalton, Georgia, they set fire to one of their cars, piled on wood, and left it on the bridge, to which they thus hoped to set fire.
Now, let us return to the rebel engineer, conductor, and passengers, thus unceremoniously left at Big Shanty, by the amazing and sudden disappearance of the engine and part of the train. The party who had thus stolen the march upon them, had evidently done so at that time and place, with the presumption that pursuit could not be made by an Engine short of Kingston, some thirty [196] miles above Big Shanty; and that, by cutting the telegraph wires as they proceeded, they should gain at least three or four hours start of any pursuit which could be made. This was a legitimate and reasonable conclusion, and but for the energy and quick judgment of Mr. Fuller, the conductor, and Mr. Cain, the engineer of the stolen train, and of Mr. Anthony Murphy, foreman of the Wood Department of the State road, who accidentally happened on the train that morning, the plans of Mr. Andrews and his party would have resulted as originally contemplated, and with crushing disaster to the rebel cause.
But these three determined men, without a moment's delay, put out after the flying train on foot, amidst shouts of laughter from the crowd, who, though lost in amazement at the unexpected and daring act, could not repress their merriment at seeing three men starting on foot after a train which had just whirled away from before their eyes, under the highest power of steam. But Messrs. Fuller, Cain, and Murphy, nowise daunted by the disparity of motive power, put on all their speed and ran along the track for three miles, until they came up with some track raisers who had a small truck car, which is shoved along by men so employed on railroads, on which to carry their tools. Truck and men were at once “impressed,” and they took it by turns of two at a time to run behind the truck and push it along all up-grades and level portions of the road, and let it drive at will on all the downgrades. Reaching the spot where the runaways had cut the telegraph wires and torn up the track, they found themselves suddenly tumbled out, pell-mell, truck and men, upon the side of the road. Finding, however, that [197] “nobody was hurt on our side,” the plucky “rebs” put the truck again on the track, left some hands to repair the road, and with all the power of determined will and muscle, they pushed on to Etowah station, some thirty miles above. Here, the first thing that met their sight was the “Yonah,” an old coal engine, one of the first ever used on the State road, standing already “fired up.”
This venerable locomotive was immediately turned upon the track, and like an old racer at the tap of the drum, pricked up her ears and made fine time to Kingston. There they found themselves but twenty minutes behind the runaway train; and leaving the “Yonah” to blow off, they mounted the engine of the Pine Branch road, which was ready fired up, and waiting for the arrival of the passenger train nearly due. Here a number of persons volunteered for the chase, taking such arms as they could lay their hands on at the moment, and with the fresh engine they started for Adamsville. But a little before reaching that place they found the train at a standstill, in consequence of the destruction of a portion of the road by the Yankee runaways. This was vexatious, but it did not discourage Fuller and Murphy, who left the engine and once more put out on foot, alone. After two miles running, they met the down freight train from Adamsville-reversed and ran it backward to that place, switched off the cars on a side track, and with the engine made fine time to. Calhoun, where they met the regular down passenger train. Here they made a momentary halt, took on board a number of well armed volunteers, a company of track hands to repair the track as they went along, and a telegraph operator, and continued the chase. A short [198] distance above Calhoun they saw, for the first time, the runaway train ahead of them. The “Yanks,” supposing themselves now well out of danger, were quietly oiling the engine, taking up track, etc., but finding themselves discovered, they mounted and sped away, throwing out upon the track, as they fled, the heavy cross-ties with which they had provided themselves; which was done by breaking out the end of the hindmost box car, and pitching them out. The rails which they had last taken up they now carried off with them, but their rebel pursuers, on coming to where the rails were torn up, stopped, tore up the rails behind them and laid them down, without fastening, before the engine, which ran over them cautiously but safely; and then carefully throwing off from the track the cross-ties which had been thrown there to impede their progress, pushed on after the fugitives. Now the race became terrible in its intensity. “Nip and tuck” the two trains swept with fearful speed past Resaca, Tilton, and on through Dalton, where the rebel train stopped to put off the telegraph operator, with instructions to telegraph to Chattanooga to have them stopped there, in case he should fail to overhaul them. On and on, fast and still faster the rebel train pressed with hot speed, sometimes in sight, as much to prevent their cutting the wires before the message could be sent, as to catch them. The caring Yankees indeed stopped just opposite, and very near to the encampment of a rebel regiment, and cut the wires, but the operator who had been dropped at Dalton had put the message through about two minutes before. They also again tore up the track, cut down a telegraph pole, and placed the two ends of it under the cross-ties, [199] and the middle over the rail on the track. Their pursuers, however, got over this impediment in the same manner they did before-taking up rails behind and laying them down before. Once over this, they shot through the great tunnel at Tunnel Hill, only five minutes behind the adventurous “Feds,” who, finding themselves closely pressed, uncoupled two of the boxcars from their engine, hoping to impede the progress of their pursuers. Quick-witted Fuller, however, hastily coupled them to the front of his engine, and pushed them ahead of him to the first turn-out, where he switched them off out of his way, and dashed ahead. As they passed Ringgold, the runaways began to show signs of “giving out.” They were out of wood, water, and oil; their rapid running and inattention to the engine had melted all the brass from its journals; and they had no time for repair, so rapid was the pursuit. Nearer and nearer panted the iron steed behind them, until, when it was within four hundred yards of them, seeing that their only safety was in flight, they jumped from the engine, scattering in the thicket, each for himself. And now their troubles commenced. The whole country immediately swarmed with armed pursuers. Unacquainted with the country, they lost their way, were hunted down by mounted men and bloodhounds, and finally were all captured. Their plan had failed from causes which reflected neither upon the genius by which it was planned, nor upon the intrepidity and discretion of those engaged in it, but from a combination of unforeseen circumstances. It was a plan which the rebels themselves declared to have been “entirely practicable on almost any day for the last year,” but they did not [200] expect to meet two “extraordinary” or special trains on the road; they did not expect that any men would be so apparently foolhardy as to attempt their pursuit on foot; and they did not expect that their pursuers would find any such “God-send” as the old coal engine, “Yonah,” standing on the track, ready fired up. Their calculations on every other point were admitted by their enemies, and those best acquainted with the road and its arrangements, to have been “dead certainties,” which would have met with perfect success.
It might have been hoped that the signal bravery of such an exploit would have commanded the respect of their captors, and mitigated in some degree the resentment which such an attempt excited. But it was not so.
The twenty-two captives, when secured, were thrust into the negro jail at Chattanooga. There they occupied a single room, half under ground, and but thirteen feet square, so that there was not space enough for them all to lie down together, and a part of them were, in consequence, obliged to sleep sitting and leaning against the walls. The only entrance to this vile room was through a trap door in the ceiling, through which, twice a day, their scanty meals were lowered in a bucket; and they had no other light or ventilation than that which came through two small, triple grated windows. They were covered with swarming vermin, and the oppressiveness of the heat obliged them to strip themselves entirely naked. Added to this, they were all handcuffed, and fastened to each other in companies of twos and threes, by trail chains, secured with padlocks around their necks. Their food, doled out to them [201] twice a day, consisted of a little flour moistened with water, and baked in the form of bread, together with spoiled pickled beef. And, as their pockets had been rifled of whatever money they contained at the time of their capture, they were utterly without the means to procure any better supplies from outside. Shortly after their capture, Jacob Parrot, an orphan boy, aged twenty years, belonging to the Thirty-third Regiment of Ohio Volunteers, was taken by a Confederate officer and four soldiers, who stripped him, bent him over a stone, and while two pistols were held to his head, a lieutenant in rebel uniform inflicted, with a raw hide, over a hundred lashes on his bare back. This was done in the presence of an infuriated crowd, who clamored for his death, and actually brought a rope with which to hang him. The object of this prolonged scourging was to force from him (the youngest of the the party) a confession as to the objects of the expedition and the names of his comrades, especially that of the engineer who had run the train. Three times, in the course of this horrible flogging, it was suspended, and young Parrot was asked if he would confess; but, steadily and firmly, with unswerving fidelity to the trusts of friendship and the inspirations of patriotism, he refused all disclosures, and it was not until his tormenters were weary of their cruel labor, that they abandoned the attempt.
While thus imprisoned at Chattanooga, their leader, Mr. Andrews, was tried, condemned, and executed as a spy, at Atlanta, on the 7th of June. The remainder, although strong and healthy when they entered this prison, at the end of three weeks, when they were required to leave it, were so exhausted by their confinement [202] and treatment, as scarcely to be able to walk. Finally, twelve of their number were transferred to the prison at Knoxville, Tenn., and there seven of them were tried by court-martial as spies. Their trial, of course, was summary, and although permitted to be present, they were not allowed to hear either the argument of their own counsel or of the judge-advocate. Their counsel, however, afterward visited them in prison, and read to them his argument, which was, in substance, that the fact of their being dressed in citizens' clothes was no more than what had been authorized in similar cases by the Confederate Government itself; that the object of the expedition was a purely military one, and as such lawful, according to the rules of war; and that not having lingered about or visited any of the camps, obtaining or seeking information, they could not rightly be considered as spies. This just and unanswerable presentation of the case, appears to have produced a favorable impression, and the whole party soon after were removed to Atlanta, Ga., under the impression that those who had been tried had been acquitted. But, on the 18th of June, after their arrival at Atlanta, their prison door was opened, and, without warning, the death-sentence was read to the seven who had been tried at Knoxville, and who, little dreaming of their hapless fate, were even then engaged in whiling away the time by playing euchre. No time for preparation was allowed --they were bid to say farewell to their comrades, and “be quick about it” --then were tied, carried out, and hung. One of their number, too ill to walk, was pinioned like the rest, and dragged off in this condition to the scaffold; while two, whose weight broke the ropes [203] which suspended them, were denied another hour's respite for prayer. One of their number, Alfred Wilson, of the Twenty-first Ohio, did not hesitate, while standing under the gallows, to make a brief, manly, and patriotic address to the scowling mob who surrounded him.
The remaining prisoners, now reduced to fourteen, were kept closely confined under special guard, in the Atlanta jail, until October, when, overhearing a conversation among their guards, they became convinced that they were to be hung, as their companions had been. This led them to devise a way of escape, which they carried out on the evening of the next day, by seizing the jailor when he opened the door to carry away the bucket in which their supper had been brought. Seizing and disarming the guards, eight of the fugitives were soon beyond pursuit. Of these, six, after long and painful wanderings, succeeded in reaching the Union lines. Of the other two, nothing has ever been heard. The remaining six of the fourteen were recaptured and confined in the barracks until December, when they were removed to Richmond, where they were confined in Castle Thunder. There they shivered through the winter, without fire, thinly clad, and with but two small blankets, which they had saved with their clothes, to cover the whole party. So they remained until the early part of March, 1863, when they were exchanged; and thus, at the end of eleven months, terminated their pitiless sufferings and persecutions in the South--persecutions begun and continued amid indignities and sufferings on their part, and atrocities on the part of their captors, which illustrate, more fully than pen or words [204] can ever express, the diabolical spirit of the rebellion,. against which they and thousands of our brave Union soldiers have fought and suffered in every part of the South.
