Capturing a Locomotive: A History of Secret Service in the Late War.Pittenger, William
History
Capturing a Locomotive: A History of Secret Service in the Late War.
Pittenger, William
Chattanooga Railroad Expedition, 1862; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Campaigns
Our patience was rewarded. We had started too soon, and from this
miscalculation all our perplexity arose. A few men, whom we recognized
almost instinctively as belonging to our party, came along the road in
the right direction. A little guarded conversation showed us that we
were right, and we strolled slowly on with them. Shortly afterwards
others overtook us, among whom was Andrews. This was a great relief, as
we now had a guide. Soon we were as far from Shelbyville as Ross and I
alone had been, and a few hundred yards farther on fell in with still
other men. Our party had so greatly increased as to be quite
conspicuous, and it was advisable to add still further security to the
cover of the night. Accordingly, we left the road for some distance,
and, marching silently, were soon at the appointed rendezvous.
A little thicket of dead and withered trees, a short distance from the
road, and sufficiently open to assure us that no listener was near, was
the place of our assemblage. Never was a consultation preparatory to
some desperate deed held under more fitting circumstances. The storm
which had been gathering all the evening was now near. Black clouds
covered one half the sky, and the young moon, low down in the west, was
soon obscured. The frequent flashes of lightning, more vivid in the
darkness, and the low roll of thunder that followed, grew continually
more emphatic, forming most startling interruptions to the earnest but
suppressed words of our leader. It is very singular that amid these
ominous surroundings, which fitted so well the character of the business
in hand, one ordinary sound stands out in my memory, far more clear and
distinct than any part of the scene. Far off I heard the bark or howl of
a dog,--no doubt at some farm-house,--roused either by the coming storm
which began to sway the leafless boughs above us, or by the passing of
some belated traveller. Popular superstition would probably have
considered such a sound as ominous of evil; and most of us are
superstitious when young, in the dark, and entering upon unknown
dangers.
We formed a close circle around Mr. Andrews while he revealed to us his
daring plans. In a voice as soft and low as a woman's, but tremulous
with suppressed enthusiasm, he painted the greatness of the project
we were to attempt, the sublimity of rushing through a hostile country
at the full speed of steam, leaving flaming bridges and raging but
powerless foes behind. But he did not disguise the dangers to be
encountered.
[Illustration: Midnight Consultation.
Page 32.]
"Soldiers," he said, "if you are detected while engaged in this
business, the great probability is that you will be put to death,--hung
as spies, or massacred by a mob. I want you to clearly understand this,
and if you are not willing to take the risk, return to camp, and keep
perfectly quiet about it."
A murmur all around the circle conveyed the assurance that we would
follow him to the last extremity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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