beaten, fled to Chattanooga and telegraphed to
Washington that everything was lost, and the Cumberland army a thing of
the past, General Thomas, with a few thousand men, checked and held at
bay this great Southern army, flushed with victory though it was. How
the mighty host rolled and surged against this single army corps, but
could not break nor beat them back. While Crittenden's and McCook's
corps were completely routed and disorganized, Thomas with his 14th
corps thus stood the brunt of battle, and saved the Army of the
Cumberland from total annihilation. Well may we call him the Rock of
Chickamauga!

"My father was quartermaster-sergeant of the regiment and I saw him for
the first time during the battle on Sunday morning. We were trudging
along with the rout--for it could not be called _army_ that Sunday
afternoon--toward Chattanooga. We knew that we had sustained defeat, but
we did not realize how desperate the situation was. A brigadier-general
was passing us, when a private rushed up to him and asked, 'O General!
where is the 87th Indiana?"--I think that was the regiment he mentioned.
'There is no 87th Indiana. All is lost! Get to Chattanooga!' he
shouted, and galloped toward the city, unattended by any of his staff.

"'Did you hear that, John?' asked my father.

"'I did,' I replied.

"'Well, if you expect to ever see your mother again, you must do some
good traveling now.'

"As we had an intense desire to see her again we started down the road
at a good pace. We distinctly heard the Confederate cavalrymen crying,
'Stop, you blankety blanked Yankees!' But we felt that our business in
Chattanooga, demanded immediate attention, and we had no time to spare
them.

"Passing a certain place, I saw General Thomas standing upon the brow of
Snodgrass Hill, or Horseshoe Ridge, field glass in hand, intently
watching the movements of the troops. I distinctly remember his
full-bearded, leonine face, and little did we know that the fate of the
Cumberland Army, or possibly of the Nation, rested upon that single man
that terrible Sunday afternoon. What a mighty responsibility! But there
he stood, a tower of strength, the Rock of Chickamauga indeed! With but
a single line he repelled charge after charge of Longstreet's
consolidated ranks.

"And so we fought the most sanguinary battle of modern times, yet
utterly bootless so far as immediate results were concerned. One hundred
and thirty thousand men were engaged with a