ht Lieutenant Sales,
with Company E, of the 2nd Kentucky, was sent some miles down the
Louisville road, and captured one hundred and fifty wagons, the escort
and many stragglers. The wagons were laden with supplies for Buell's
army. They were burned, with the exception of two sutlers' wagons, which
Sales brought in next morning. These wagons contained every thing to
gladden a rebel's heart, from cavalry boots to ginger-bread. The brigade
moved again at 10 A.M., the next day, the 20th, and reached
Elizabethtown that evening. Here the prisoners picked up around
Bardstown, and upon the march, who had not been paroled during the day,
were given their free papers. The command went into camp on the
Litchfield road, two miles from Elizabethtown. About 3 o'clock of the
next morning a train of cars came down the railroad, and troops were
disembarked from them. A culvert, three miles from town, had been burned
the night before, in anticipation of such a visit and the train
necessarily stopped at that spot. Our pickets were stationed there, and
the troops were furnished a lively greeting as they got off of the cars.
After a good deal of fussing with the pickets, these troops entered the
town about 5 A.M., and at 6 A.M., we moved off on the Litchfield road.

The brigade encamped at Litchfield on the night of the 21st, and on the
next day "crossed Green river at Morganton and Woodbury," almost in the
face of the garrison of Bowlinggreen, "who pretended to try to catch us,
and who would have been very much grieved if they had," as has been
truthfully written. My regiment was in the rear on the morning of the
23rd, when we marched away from Morganton, and I placed it in ambush on
the western side of the road, upon which the enemy were "figuring," for
they could not be said to be advancing.

The road which the rest of the brigade had taken ran at right angles to
this one, and my left flank rested upon it. To my astonishment, about
half an hour afterward, the enemy, also, went into ambush on the same
side of the road, and a few hundred yards from the right of my line.
After they had gotten snug and warm, I moved off quietly after the
column, leaving them "still vigilant." We crossed Mud river that night
at Rochester, on a bridge constructed of three flat boats, laid endwise,
tightly bound together, and propped, where the water was deep, by beams
passing under the bottoms of each one and resting on the end of the
next; each receiving th