The Great Locomotive Chase Through Georgia

by William Pittenger

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The railroad raid to Georgia, in the spring of 1862, has always been
considered to rank high among the striking and novel incidents of the
civil war. At that time General O.M. Mitchel, under whose authority it
was organized, commanded Union forces in middle Tennessee, consisting of
a division of Buell's army. The Confederates were concentrating at
Corinth, Mississippi, and Grant and Buell were advancing by different
routes toward that point. Mitchel's orders required him to protect
Nashville and the country around, but allowed him great latitude in the
disposition of his division, which, with detachments and garrisons,
numbered nearly seventeen thousand men. His attention had long been
strongly turned toward the liberation of east Tennessee, which he knew
that President Lincoln also earnestly desired, and which would, if
achieved, strike a most damaging blow at the resources of the rebellion.
A Union army once in possession of east Tennessee would have the
inestimable advantage, found nowhere else in the South, of operating in
the midst of a friendly population, and having at hand abundant supplies
of all kinds. Mitchel had no reason to believe that Corinth would
detain the Union armies much longer than Fort Donelson had done, and was
satisfied that as soon as that position had been captured the next
movement would be eastward toward Chattanooga, thus throwing his own
division in advance. He determined, therefore, to press into the heart
of the enemy's country as far as possible, occupying strategical points
before they were adequately defended and assured of speedy and powerful
reinforcement. To this end his measures were vigorous and well chosen.

On the 8th of April, 1862,--the day after the battle of Pittsburg
Landing, of which, however, Mitchel had received no intelligence,--he
marched swiftly southward from Shelbyville, and seized Huntsville in
Alabama on the 11th of April, and then sent a detachment westward over
the Memphis and Charleston Railroad to open railway communication with
the Union army at Pittsburg Landing. Another detachment, commanded by
Mitchel in person, advanced on the same day seventy miles by rail
directly into the enemy's territory, arriving unchecked with two
thousand men within thirty miles of Chattanooga,--in two hours' time he
could now reach that point,--the most important position in the West.
Why did he not go on? The story of the railroad raid is the answer. The
night before breaking camp at Shelbyville, Mitchel sent an expedition
secretly into the heart of Georgia to cut the railroad communications of
Chattanooga to the south and east. The fortune of this attempt had a
most important bearing upon his movements, and will now be narrated.

In the employ of General Buell was a spy named James J. Andrews, who
had rendered valuable services in the first year of the war, and had
secured the full confidence of the Union commanders. In March, 1862,
Buell had sent him secretly with eight men to burn the bridges west of
Chattanooga; but the failure of expected coöperation defeated the plan,
and Andrews, after visiting Atlanta, and inspecting the whole of the
enemy's lines in that vicinity and northward, had returned, ambitious to
make another attempt. His plans for the second raid were submitted to
Mitchel, and on the eve of the movement from Shelbyville to Huntsville
Mitchel authorized him to take twenty-four men, secretly enter the
enemy's territory, and, by means of capturing a train, burn the bridges
on the northern part of the Georgia State Railroad, and also one on the
East Tennessee Railroad where it approaches the Georgia State line, thus
completely isolating Chattanooga, which was virtually ungarrisoned.



The soldiers for this expedition, of whom the writer was one, were
selected from the three Ohio regiments belonging to General J.W. Sill's
brigade, being simply told that they were wanted for secret and very
dangerous service. So far as known, not a man chosen declined the
perilous honor. Our uniforms were exchanged for ordinary Southern dress,
and all arms except revolvers were left in camp. On the 7th of April, by
the roadside about a mile east of Shelbyville, in the late evening
twilight, we met our leader. Taking us a little way from the road, he
quietly placed before us the outlines of the romantic and adventurous
plan, which was: to break into small detachments of three or four,
journey eastward into the Cumberland Mountains, then work southward,
traveling by rail after we were well within the Confederate lines, and
finally the evening of the third day after the start, meet Andrews at
Marietta, Georgia, more than two hundred miles away. When questioned, we
were to profess ourselves Kentuckians going to join the Southern army.

On the journey we were a good deal annoyed by the swollen streams and
the muddy roads consequent on three days of almost ceaseless rain.
Andrews was led to believe that Mitchel's column would be inevitably
delayed; and as we were expected to destroy the bridges the very day
that Huntsville was entered, he took the responsibility of sending word
to our different groups that our attempt would be postponed one
day--from Friday to Saturday, April 12. This was a natural but a most
lamentable error of judgment.

One of the men detailed was belated, and did not join us at all. Two
others were very soon captured by the enemy; and though their true
character was not detected, they were forced into the Southern army, and
two reached Marietta, but failed to report at the rendezvous. Thus,
when we assembled very early in the morning in Andrews's room at the
Marietta Hotel for final consultation before the blow was struck we were
but twenty, including our leader. All preliminary difficulties had been
easily overcome, and we were in good spirits. But some serious obstacles
had been revealed on our ride from Chattanooga to Marietta the previous
evening.[3] The railroad was found to be crowded with trains, and many
soldiers were among the passengers. Then the station--Big Shanty--at
which the capture was to be effected had recently been made a
Confederate camp. To succeed in our enterprise it would be necessary
first to capture the engine in a guarded camp with soldiers standing
around as spectators, and then to run it from one to two hundred miles
through the enemy's country, and to deceive or overpower all trains that
should be met--a large contract for twenty men. Some of our party
thought the chances of success so slight, under existing circumstances,
that they urged the abandonment of the whole enterprise. But Andrews
declared his purpose to succeed or die, offering to each man, however,
the privilege of withdrawing from the attempt--an offer no one was in
the least disposed to accept. Final instructions were then given, and we
hurried to the ticket-office in time for the northward-bound mail-train,
and purchased tickets for different stations along the line in the
direction of Chattanooga.

[Footnote 3: The different detachments reached the Georgia State
Railroad at Chattanooga, and traveled as ordinary passengers on trains
running southward.--EDITOR.]

Our ride, as passengers, was but eight miles. We swept swiftly around
the base of Kenesaw Mountain, and soon saw the tents of the Confederate
forces camped at Big Shanty gleam white in the morning mist. Here we
were to stop for breakfast, and attempt the seizure of the train. The
morning was raw and gloomy, and a rain, which fell all day, had already
begun. It was a painfully thrilling moment. We were but twenty, with an
army about us, and a long and difficult road before us, crowded with
enemies. In an instant we were to throw off the disguise which had been
our only protection, and trust to our leader's genius and our own
efforts for safety and success. Fortunately we had no time for giving
way to reflections and conjectures which could only unfit us for the
stern task ahead.

When we stopped, the conductor, the engineer, and many of the passengers
hurried to breakfast, leaving the train unguarded. Now was the moment of
action. Ascertaining that there was nothing to prevent a rapid start,
Andrews, our two engineers, Brown and Knight, and the firemen hurried
forward, uncoupling a section of the train consisting of three empty
baggage or box-cars, the locomotive, and the tender. The engineers and
the firemen sprang into the cab of the engine, while Andrews, with hand
on the rail and foot on the step, waited to see that the remainder of
the party had gained entrance into the rear box-car. This seemed
difficult and slow, though it really consumed but a few seconds, for the
car stood on a considerable bank, and the first who came were pitched in
by their comrades, while these in turn dragged in the others, and the
door was instantly closed. A sentinel, with musket in hand, stood not a
dozen feet from the engine, watching the whole proceeding; but before he
or any of the soldiers or guards around could make up their minds to
interfere all was done, and Andrews, with a nod to his engineer, stepped
on board. The valve was pulled wide open, and for a moment the wheels
slipped round in rapid, ineffective revolutions; then, with a bound that
jerked the soldiers in the box-car from their feet, the little train
darted away, leaving the camp and the station in the wildest uproar and
confusion. The first step of the enterprise was triumphantly
accomplished.

According to the time-table, of which Andrews had secured a copy, there
were two trains to be met. These presented no serious hindrance to our
attaining high speed, for we could tell just where to expect them. There
was also a local freight not down on the time-table, but which could not
be far distant. Any danger of collision with it could be avoided by
running according to the schedule of the captured train until it was
passed; then at the highest possible speed we could run to the
Oostenaula and Chickamauga bridges, lay them in ashes, and pass on
through Chattanooga to Mitchel at Huntsville, or wherever eastward of
that point he might be found, arriving long before the close of the day.
It was a brilliant prospect, and so far as human estimates can determine
it would have been realized had the day been Friday instead of Saturday.
Friday every train had been on time, the day dry, the road in perfect
order. Now the road was in disorder, every train far behind time, and
two "extras" were approaching us. But of these unfavorable conditions
we knew nothing, and pressed confidently forward.

We stopped frequently, and at one point tore up the track, cut telegraph
wires, and loaded on cross-ties to be used in bridge-burning. Wood and
water were taken without difficulty, Andrews very coolly telling the
story to which he adhered throughout the run--namely, that he was one of
General Beauregard's officers, running an impressed powder-train through
to that commander at Corinth. We had no good instruments for
track-raising, as we had intended rather to depend upon fire; but the
amount of time spent in taking up a rail was not material at this stage
of our journey, as we easily kept on the time of our captured train.
There was a wonderful exhilaration in passing swiftly by towns and
stations through the heart of an enemy's country in this manner. It
possessed just enough of the spice of danger, in this part of the run,
to render it thoroughly enjoyable. The slightest accident to our engine,
however, or a miscarriage in any part of our program, would have
completely changed the conditions.

At Etowah we found the "Yonah," an old locomotive owned by an iron
company, standing with steam up; but not wishing to alarm the enemy till
the local freight had been safely met, we left it unharmed. Kingston,
thirty miles from the starting-point, was safely reached. A train from
Rome, Georgia, on a branch road, had just arrived and was waiting for
the morning mail--our train. We learned that the local freight would
soon come also, and, taking the side-track, waited for it. When it
arrived, however, Andrews saw, to his surprise and chagrin, that it
bore a red flag, indicating another train not far behind. Stepping over
to the conductor, he boldly asked: "What does it mean that the road is
blocked in this manner when I have orders to take this powder to
Beauregard without a minute's delay?" The answer was interesting, but
not reassuring: "Mitchel has captured Huntsville, and is said to be
coming to Chattanooga, and we are getting everything out of there." He
was asked by Andrews to pull his train a long way down the track out of
the way, and promptly obeyed.

It seemed an exceedingly long time before the expected "extra" arrived,
and when it did come it bore another red flag. The reason given was that
the "local," being too great for one engine, had been made up in two
sections, and the second section would doubtless be along in a short
time. This was terribly vexatious; yet there seemed nothing to do but to
wait. To start out between the sections of an extra train would be to
court destruction. There were already three trains around us, and their
many passengers and others were all growing very curious about the
mysterious train, manned by strangers, which had arrived on the time of
the morning mail. For an hour and five minutes from the time of arrival
at Kingston we remained in this most critical position. The sixteen of
us who were shut up tightly in a box-car,--personating Beauregard's
ammunition,--hearing sounds outside, but unable to distinguish words,
had perhaps the most trying position. Andrews sent us, by one of the
engineers, a cautious warning to be ready to fight in case the
uneasiness of the crowd around led them to make any investigation,
while he himself kept near the station to prevent the sending off of any
alarming telegram. So intolerable was our suspense, that the order for a
deadly conflict would have been felt as a relief. But the assurance of
Andrews quieted the crowd until the whistle of the expected train from
the north was heard; then as it glided up to the depot, past the end of
our side-track, we were off without more words.

But unexpected danger had arisen behind us. Out of the panic at Big
Shanty two men emerged, determined, if possible, to foil the unknown
captors of their train. There was no telegraph station, and no
locomotive at hand with which to follow; but the conductor of the train,
W.A. Fuller, and Anthony Murphy, foreman of the Atlanta railway
machine-shops, who happened to be on board of Fuller's train, started on
foot after us as hard as they could run. Finding a hand-car they mounted
it and pushed forward till they neared Etowah, where they ran on the
break we had made in the road, and were precipitated down the embankment
into the ditch. Continuing with more caution, they reached Etowah and
found the "Yonah," which was at once pressed into service, loaded with
soldiers who were at hand, and hurried with flying wheels toward
Kingston. Fuller prepared to fight at that point, for he knew of the
tangle of extra trains, and of the lateness of the regular trains, and
did not think we should be able to pass. We had been gone only four
minutes when he arrived and found himself stopped by three long, heavy
trains of cars, headed in the wrong direction. To move them out of the
way so as to pass would cause a delay he was little inclined to
afford--would, indeed, have almost certainly given us the victory. So,
abandoning his engine, he with Murphy ran across to the Rome train, and,
uncoupling the engine and one car, pushed forward with about forty armed
men. As the Rome branch connected with the main road above the depot, he
encountered no hindrance, and it was now a fair race. We were not many
minutes ahead.

Four miles from Kingston we again stopped and cut the telegraph. While
trying to take up a rail at this point we were greatly startled. One end
of the rail was loosened, and eight of us were pulling at it, when in
the distance we distinctly heard the whistle of a pursuing engine. With
a frantic effort we broke the rail, and all tumbled over the embankment
with the effort. We moved on, and at Adairsville we found a mixed train
(freight and passenger) waiting, but there was an express on the road
that had not yet arrived. We could afford no more delay, and set out for
the next station, Calhoun, at terrible speed, hoping to reach that point
before the express, which was behind time, should arrive. The nine miles
which we had to travel were left behind in less than the same number of
minutes. The express was just pulling out, but, hearing our whistle,
backed before us until we were able to take the side-track. It stopped,
however, in such a manner as completely to close up the other end of the
switch. The two trains, side by side, almost touched each other, and our
precipitate arrival caused natural suspicion. Many searching questions
were asked, which had to be answered before we could get the
opportunity of proceeding. We in the box-car could hear the altercation,
and were almost sure that a fight would be necessary before the
conductor would consent to "pull up" in order to let us out. Here again
our position was most critical, for the pursuers were rapidly
approaching.

Fuller and Murphy saw the obstruction of the broken rail in time, by
reversing their engine, to prevent wreck, but the hindrance was for the
present insuperable. Leaving all their men behind, they started for a
second foot-race. Before they had gone far they met the train we had
passed at Adairsville and turned it back after us. At Adairsville they
dropped the cars, and with locomotive and tender loaded with armed men,
they drove forward at the highest speed possible. They knew that we were
not many minutes ahead, and trusted to overhaul us before the express
train could be safely passed.

But Andrews had told the powder story again with all his skill, and
added a direct request in peremptory form to have the way opened before
him, which the Confederate conductor did not see fit to resist; and just
before the pursuers arrived at Calhoun we were again under way. Stopping
once more to cut wires and tear up the track, we felt a thrill of
exhilaration to which we had long been strangers. The track was now
clear before us to Chattanooga; and even west of that city we had good
reason to believe that we should find no other train in the way till we
had reached Mitchel's lines. If one rail could now be lifted we would be
in a few minutes at the Oostenaula bridge; and that burned, the rest of
the task would be little more than simple manual labor, with the enemy
absolutely powerless. We worked with a will.

But in a moment the tables were turned. Not far behind we heard the
scream of a locomotive bearing down upon us at lightning speed. The men
on board were in plain sight and well armed. Two minutes--perhaps
one--would have removed the rail at which we were toiling; then the game
would have been in our own hands, for there was no other locomotive
beyond that could be turned back after us. But the most desperate
efforts were in vain. The rail was simply bent, and we hurried to our
engine and darted away, while remorselessly after us thundered the
enemy.

Now the contestants were in clear view, and a race followed unparalleled
in the annals of war. Wishing to gain a little time for the burning of
the Oostenaula bridge, we dropped one car, and, shortly after, another;
but they were "picked up" and pushed ahead to Resaca. We were obliged to
run over the high trestles and covered bridge at that point without a
pause. This was the first failure in the work assigned us.

The Confederates could not overtake and stop us on the road; but their
aim was to keep close behind, so that we might not be able to damage the
road or take in wood or water. In the former they succeeded, but not in
the latter. Both engines were put at the highest rate of speed. We were
obliged to cut the wire after every station passed, in order that an
alarm might not be sent ahead; and we constantly strove to throw our
pursuers off the track, or to obstruct the road permanently in some way,
so that we might be able to burn the Chickamauga bridges, still ahead.
The chances seemed good that Fuller and Murphy would be wrecked. We
broke out the end of our last box-car and dropped cross-ties on the
track as we ran, thus checking their progress and getting far enough
ahead to take in wood and water at two separate stations. Several times
we almost lifted a rail, but each time the coming of the Confederates
within rifle-range compelled us to desist and speed on. Our worst
hindrance was the rain. The previous day (Friday) had been clear, with a
high wind, and on such a day fire would have been easily and
tremendously effective. But to-day a bridge could be burned only with
abundance of fuel and careful nursing.

Thus we sped on, mile after mile, in this fearful chase, round curves
and past stations in seemingly endless perspective. Whenever we lost
sight of the enemy beyond a curve, we hoped that some of our
obstructions had been effective in throwing him from the track, and that
we should see him no more; but at each long reach backward the smoke was
again seen, and the shrill whistle was like the scream of a bird of
prey. The time could not have been so very long, for the terrible speed
was rapidly devouring the distance; but with our nerves strained to the
highest tension each minute seemed an hour. On several occasions the
escape of the enemy from wreck was little less than miraculous. At one
point a rail was placed across the track on a curve so skilfully that it
was not seen till the train ran upon it at full speed. Fuller says that
they were terribly jolted, and seemed to bounce altogether from the
track, but lighted on the rails in safety. Some of the Confederates
wished to leave a train which was driven at such a reckless rate, but
their wishes were not gratified.

Before reaching Dalton we urged Andrews to turn and attack the enemy,
laying an ambush so as to get into close quarters, that our revolvers
might be on equal terms with their guns. I have little doubt that if
this had been carried out it would have succeeded. But either because he
thought the chance of wrecking or obstructing the enemy still good, or
feared that the country ahead had been alarmed by a telegram around the
Confederacy by the way of Richmond, Andrews merely gave the plan his
sanction without making any attempt to carry it into execution.

Dalton was passed without difficulty, and beyond we stopped again to cut
wires and to obstruct the track. It happened that a regiment was
encamped not a hundred yards away, but they did not molest us. Fuller
had written a despatch to Chattanooga, and dropped a man with orders to
have it forwarded instantly, while he pushed on to save the bridges.
Part of the message got through and created a wild panic in Chattanooga,
although it did not materially influence our fortunes. Our supply of
fuel was now very short, and without getting rid of our pursuers long
enough to take in more, it was evident that we could not run as far as
Chattanooga.

While cutting the wire we made an attempt to get up another rail; but
the enemy, as usual, were too quick for us. We had no tool for this
purpose except a wedge-pointed iron bar. Two or three bent iron claws
for pulling out spikes would have given us such incontestable
superiority that, down to almost the last of our run, we should have
been able to escape and even to burn all the Chickamauga bridges. But it
had not been our intention to rely on this mode of obstruction--an
emergency only rendered necessary by our unexpected delay and the
pouring rain.

We made no attempt to damage the long tunnel north of Dalton, as our
enemies had greatly dreaded. The last hope of the raid was now staked
upon an effort of a kind different from any that we had yet made, but
which, if successful, would still enable us to destroy the bridges
nearest Chattanooga. But, on the other hand, its failure would terminate
the chase. Life and success were put upon one throw.

A few more obstructions were dropped on the track, and our own speed
increased so that we soon forged a considerable distance ahead. The side
and end boards of the last car were torn into shreds, all available fuel
was piled upon it, and blazing brands were brought back from the engine.
By the time we approached a long, covered bridge a fire in the car was
fairly started. We uncoupled it in the middle of the bridge, and with
painful suspense waited the issue. Oh for a few minutes till the work of
conflagration was fairly begun! There was still steam pressure enough in
our boiler to carry us to the next wood-yard, where we could have
replenished our fuel by force, if necessary, so as to run as near to
Chattanooga as was deemed prudent. We did not know of the telegraph
message which the pursuers had sent ahead. But, alas! the minutes were
not given. Before the bridge was extensively fired the enemy was upon
us, and we moved slowly onward, looking back to see what they would do
next. We had not long to conjecture. The Confederates pushed right into
the smoke, and drove the burning car before them to the next side-track.

With no car left, and no fuel, the last scrap having thrown into the
engine or upon the burning car, and with no obstruction to drop on the
track, our situation was indeed desperate. A few minutes only remained
until our steed of iron which had so well served us would be powerless.

But it might still be possible to save ourselves. If we left the train
in a body, and, taking a direct course toward the Union lines, hurried
over the mountains at right angles with their course, we could not, from
the nature of the country, be followed by cavalry, and could easily
travel--athletic young men as we were, and fleeing for life--as rapidly
as any pursuers. There was no telegraph in the mountainous districts
west and northwest of us, and the prospect of reaching the Union lines
seemed to me then, and has always since seemed, very fair. Confederate
pursuers with whom I have since conversed freely have agreed on two
points--that we could have escaped in the manner here pointed out, and
that an attack on the pursuing train would likely have been successful.
But Andrews thought otherwise, at least in relation to the former plan,
and ordered us to jump from the locomotive one by one, and, dispersing
in the woods, each endeavor to save himself. Thus ended the Andrews
railroad raid.

It is easy now to understand why Mitchel paused thirty miles west of
Chattanooga. The Andrews raiders had been forced to stop eighteen miles
south of the same town, and no flying train met him with the expected
tidings that all railroad communications of Chattanooga were destroyed,
and that the town was in a panic and undefended. He dared advance no
farther without heavy reinforcements from Pittsburg Landing or the
north; and he probably believed to the day of his death, six months
later, that the whole Andrews party had perished without accomplishing
anything.

A few words will give the sequel to this remarkable enterprise. There
was great excitement in Chattanooga and in the whole of the surrounding
Confederate territory for scores of miles. The hunt for the fugitive
raiders was prompt, energetic, and completely successful. Ignorant of
the country, disorganized, and far from the Union lines, they strove in
vain to escape. Several were captured the same day on which they left
the cars, and all but two within a week. Even these two were overtaken
and brought back when they supposed that they were virtually out of
danger. Two of those who had failed to be on the train were identified
and added to the band of prisoners.

Now follows the saddest part of the story. Being in citizens' dress
within an enemy's lines, the whole party were held as spies, and closely
and vigorously guarded. A court-martial was convened, and the leader and
seven others out of the twenty-two were condemned and executed. The
remainder were never brought to trial, probably because of the advance
of Union forces, and the consequent confusion into which the affairs of
the departments of east Tennessee and Georgia were thrown. Of the
remaining fourteen, eight succeeded by a bold effort--attacking their
guard in broad daylight--in making their escape from Atlanta, Georgia,
and ultimately in reaching the North. The other six who shared in this
effort, but were recaptured, remained prisoners until the latter part of
March, 1863, when they were exchanged through a special arrangement made
with Secretary Stanton. All the survivors of this expedition received
medals and promotion.[4] The pursuers also received expressions of
gratitude from their fellow-Confederates, notably from the governor and
the legislature of Georgia.

[Footnote 4: Below is a list of the participants in the raid:

James J. Andrews,[A] leader;
William Campbell,[A] a civilian who volunteered to accompany the raiders;
George D. Wilson,[A] Company B, 2d Ohio Volunteers;
Marion A. Ross,[A] Company A, 2d Ohio Volunteers;
Perry G. Shadrack,[A] Company K, 2d Ohio Volunteers;
Samuel Slavens,[A] 33d Ohio Volunteers;
Samuel Robinson,[A] Company G, 33d Ohio Volunteers;
John Scott,[A] Company K, 21st Ohio Volunteers;
Wilson W. Brown,[B] Company F, 21st Ohio Volunteers;
William Knight,[B] Company E, 21st Ohio Volunteers;
Mark Wood,[B] Company C, 21st Ohio Volunteers;
James A. Wilson,[B] Company C, 21st Ohio Volunteers;
John Wollam,[B] Company C, 33d Ohio Volunteers;
D.A. Dorsey,[B] Company H, 33d Ohio Volunteers;
Jacob Parrott,[C] Company K, 33d Ohio Volunteers;
Robert Buffum,[C] Company H, 21st Ohio Volunteers;
William Benzinger,[C] Company G, 21st Ohio Volunteers;
William Reddick,[C] Company B, 33d Ohio Volunteers;
E.H. Mason,[C] Company K, 21st Ohio Volunteers;
William Pittenger,[C] Company G, 2d Ohio Volunteers.

J.R. Porter, Company C, 21st Ohio, and Martin J. Hawkins, Company A, 33d
Ohio, reached Marietta, but did not get on board of the train. They were
captured and imprisoned with their comrades.

[A] Executed. [B] Escaped. [C] Exchanged.]