The Great Locomotive Chase

by Gordon Rottman

  As they rummaged through camp and prepared for their departure, rumors spread like wildfire. It was no secret within the 9th Brigade that something was afoot, but the exact nature of this secret expedition remained unknown. Among the bored soldiers in an idle encampment this must have been exciting news as it could easily have heralded impending action for the rest.

  Some men were lightheartedly advised they were marching to their doom, never to be seen again. Other raiders bid their comrades a fond farewell and received their best wishes. Most penned quick letters to loved ones and made arrangements to secure their arms and personal effects within their companies.

  At sunset on the 7th, the Monday, the men assembled at their regimental headquarters and were picked up by ambulances dispatched by division or simply went on their own to the rendezvous specified by Andrews, a knoll covered with dead trees just off the Shelbyville–Wartrace Road about a mile east of Shelbyville. They were to meet Andrews clandestinely that night for instructions. They all traveled by foot to the rendezvous carrying their kit and merged into a conspicuous group by the time they arrived.

  The raiders were prepared to depart that night. The sky was clouding over, but the young moon was visible as lightning heralded the approach of a coming rainstorm. It was an odd group of individuals, which hardly could be termed a “unit,” that was expected to infiltrate cross-country into enemy territory, covertly travel among the enemy, steal a train deep within the Confederacy in broad daylight, and rush north wreacking havoc and destruction. They had no special training or experience in such affairs, had never worked together before, and were completely unaware of what they were getting into. They were simply a gang of adventurous riflemen trained in repetitious drill, marching in mass formations, and doing everything uniformly as a cohesive body. Most were ill-prepared for duplicity, and uncomfortable with violating the formal conventions of warfare as was now expected of them. They knew their leader only by reputation and what they did know was probably only through inflated campfire rumors.

  Andrews first briefly described the mission and its aim in a quiet voice to the attentive soldiers. He told them bluntly, as later recalled by Cpl Pittenger, “Soldiers, if you are detected while engaged in this business, the great possibility is that you will be put to death – hung [sic] as spies, or massacred by a mob.” He was no doubt familiar with the fate of the November bridge-burners. Andrews told them that if they were unwilling to take the risks, they were to return to camp and say nothing of this meeting to anyone. All present declared they would follow him, no doubt feeling that the promise of adventure was more attractive than the endless boring picket duty and fatigues with their regiments.

  Andrews provided each member of the raiding party with specific instructions on how they were to make their way to Chattanooga to catch a W&A train to Marietta. They could also catch a train on the Memphis & Charleston RR west of Chattanooga for a ride to that city and then transfer to the W&A. They would first travel east through Wartrace and Manchester, Tennessee. In this way it would not seem as though they had traveled through Union forces on their way south. Andrews explained how they were to pass themselves off as Kentuckians from Fleming County in the northeast corner of the state and declared there were no Kentuckians from that county in Confederate service who could trip them up. It is uncertain how he could be so confident of this fact, even if he had previously resided in Flemingsburg.

  A clandestine meeting on the Shelbyville-Wartrace Road about a mile east of Shelbyville, Tennessee on the night of April 7, 1862. It was here, on a low hillock during an approaching thunderstorm, that the raiders met for the first time and a bearded James Andrews gave them the details of their mission. (Pittenger)

  When one of the volunteers asked what they were to do if they were suspected under questioning and could not get away or talk themselves out of their situation, “Enlist without hesitation in the rebel army,” Andrews advised the surprised soldiers. They would not be considered deserters and, sooner or later, perhaps while on picket some dark night, they could make good their escape and return to their regiment and friends. “The difficulty is to keep out of the Southern army, not to get into it.”

  Andrews discussed in minimal detail their actions upon stealing the train in Marietta. They would run it as close as they could toward advancing Union forces, hopefully through Chattanooga and, turning west, straight to Mitchel’s division. If they could not get that far they would abandon the train and make their way through Confederate lines as a body.

  They were to break up in teams of two to four men for the cross-country trip to Chattanooga. Andrews himself would travel by horse and provide any assistance necessary to the squads he encountered. They had to be at the specified rendezvous in Marietta by Thursday evening, the 10th. They had just three days to make their way there; the last train departing Chattanooga for Marietta on the 10th was at 5.00pm and they all had to be aboard it. On Friday morning of the 11th they would catch the northbound train.

  Forming six or seven squads Andrews moved from group to group disbursing the Confederate money and answering questions. They were now committed, and he gave them the details of the plan, to include the movements of the 3rd Division, whose advance they were supporting.

  Mitchel would march on Huntsville that coming morning and planned to capture the city by Friday, the day the raiders would steal their train. Mitchel would then turn east toward Chattanooga. The raiders, speeding north aboard their stolen locomotive, would burn the bridges that same day to block reinforcements. He told them they would also be encountering southbound trains that they would have to deal with.

  As a torrent of rain fell amid lightning flashes, Andrews firmly shook each man’s hand and gave his good wishes. They started eastward down the muddy road. It would rain for the next ten days. No one yet appreciated the impact the ceaseless rains would have on the Chattanooga Railroad Expedition.

  3 The only explosive available at the time was black powder. This was bulky and not very good for cutting iron rails. Dynamite was not patented until 1867.

  4 A cord of wood is a stack 4ft wide, 4ft high, and 8ft long – 128 cubic feet. The General averaged about 33 miles per cord.

  5 21st Ohio sent two men each from its Companies C, F, and G.

  6 Not to be confused with the 1864 battle of Ivy Point Hill, Kentucky.

  7 Locomotives had no brakes. To stop, the engine was reversed and brake wheels set on the tender and cars.

  THE RAID

  Cross-country into Dixie

  That first wet night on the road did nothing to improve the expectations of the raiders as they trudged down a muddy road toward Wartrace, the last Union outpost. They hoped to get beyond their own picket lines, which could be as dangerous as rebel pickets on such a night. They soon became discouraged by the rain, mud, and cold, and sought shelter, but there was little to be found in the sparsely populated country. Some found barns; others demanded accommodation in homes after rousing slumbering inhabitants. They found Wartrace occupied by Union cavalrymen disinclined to let them pass, but Andrews successfully cleared the way as he was to do so often in the coming days.

  With so few roads, it was inevitable that two or three squads would join up. Some were able to catch rides on wagons driven by locals. Meals of the “coarsest fare” were purchased en route. There were indiscretions on the road south – one man became drunk and talkative and had to be kept quiet by two comrades until he sobered up; others overdramatized their roles as pro-secessionists to the point of being unbelievable to locals. One squad made such extravagant claims and provided contradictory answers to questions that a group of rebel guerrillas was sent to pursue the suspicious strangers, but they managed to elude the searchers, who eventually called off their hunt. Two men, however, fared worse.

  Cpl Llewellyn and Pvt Ovid Smith traveling together had aroused suspicions and were arrested by militiamen in Jasper. Their story about seeking a Kentucky regiment persuaded no one, and the fact that they were tra
veling without baggage raised suspicions. They were turned over to the nearest Confederate post and “persuaded” to enlist. They soon found themselves in an artillery unit defending Chattanooga – of all places. At the end of April their new unit engaged their own 3rd Division and Llewellyn fled across a bridge in the midst of battle. This called attention to Smith and he was accused and court-martialed for disloyalty. He eventually ended up in the Chattanooga Jail with the raiders, but he was never connected with them. He served his sentence, was released to his unit in September, and soon managed to desert and return to the 2nd Ohio.

  As the squads trekked through the beautiful Cumberland Mountains, some encountered furloughed rebel soldiers and engaged them in conversation to learn local news. Most of the groups wisely designated a man or two as spokespersons who could tell a good story about their reason for passing through. Reportedly, some of the Midwesterners were so bold as to affect passable Southern accents. Even with the suspicious nature of the border inhabitants, the raiders found the locals to be easily deceived in most cases. All forms of travelers were found on the road: men journeying to join one side or the other, smugglers, drifters, deserters, merchants, slave-hunters, and assorted riffraff. Some were challenged by militiamen suggesting they join their unit rather than seeking out a Kentuckian regiment. In Manchester, Cpl Dorsey was finally able to exchange his Union blue trousers for “less conspicuous” yellow-and-white striped pants.

  They pressed on through the intermittent rains seeking room and board where they could. Their average of 30 miles a day was good on such undeveloped roads, but insufficient for them to meet their deadline. Some squads were planning on walking through Wednesday night as they were still as much as 40 miles from Chattanooga. Pittenger’s squad learned from another they joined that Andrews was passing word that the mission was postponed by one day because of the slow progress due to the rain.

  This was welcome news to the wet, tired travelers, but it was to prove a major setback for the expedition’s successes. Andrews unilaterally made the decision based on his knowledge of the difficulties in moving large bodies of troops in such conditions. However, he failed to consider the energy and determination of the fiery little general. Mitchel did not delay his advance for a day, but drove his miserable troops onward through the downpour and high creeks. Rather than meeting in Marietta on Thursday night, the 10th, they could arrive Friday. To Andrews, unused to the military’s slavishness to time schedules, a day’s delay would cause no harm. He habitually adjusted his own schedule because of the nature of his work; this was his first major mistake.

  Some of the squads reached the swollen Tennessee River near Jasper on Wednesday night and made arrangements to be ferried across. Rebel cavalrymen questioned the strangers but, unlike Llewellyn and Smith’s, their stories were accepted. Dorsey reported, “We made it a point to appear as insignificant and uneducated as possible.”

  That night, news of the battle at Shiloh spread with claims it was a great Yankee defeat. This did little to hearten the raiders. More bad news arrived the following morning: a messenger arrived with orders that no one was allowed across the Tennessee River for the next three days. Word was that Mitchel was advancing on Huntsville and that there might be Yankee spies about. With this discouraging news, and unable to convince the ferry operator that they could help the Southern cause by being allowed to continue south to join their unit, they continued east on foot, despite many of the party now suffering from head colds.

  Most of the squads were stacking up on the north side of the river and the rugged mountain terrain drastically wasted away the grace time. In fact over half of the raiders had now joined up and were urgently looking for a means to cross the river. They were able to talk a ferryman into taking them across in a storm and were delighted to find the weather had precluded the setting of a guard at the far landing. One squad managed to catch a ride on the westbound train to Chattanooga loaded with Shiloh wounded. While a few had managed to catch an earlier train, most barely reached Chattanooga in time for that day’s last departure to Marietta. It was Friday the 11th. Mitchel had seized Huntsville that morning.

  There was standing room only and the cars were filled with Confederate soldiers and boastful, mostly drunken civilians confident the Yankees would be defeated. Some of the raiders were concerned about the expedition’s success, no doubt anxious in the presence of this many Southern travelers. Others were more positive, even with the many delays and the changes to their plans. Finally they were approaching their goal and were buoyed by the irrepressible enthusiasm of their leader.

  It soon became apparent that the poor condition of the wartime rail line and running at night forced the train to run very slowly – with a maximum speed of 18mph they had a seven-hour ride ahead of them. This concerned some of the raiders, who thought high speed was essential for their mission and survival. Although they were traveling the same route that they would cover the next day, it was impossible to study the land at night. They stopped for supper at Dalton and, passing Camp McDonald, they would have been able to see the many campfires. At midnight the slumbering raiders were roused with the announcement, “Marietta!”

  All but two of the raiders took rooms in the Fletcher House (later Kennesaw House), a hotel adjacent to the railroad station, with several men bedding in the second-floor rooms. Cpl Martin Hawkins and Pvt John Porter had arrived earlier and took a room in the Marietta Hotel. They failed to tip the clerk. Consequently, he failed to wake them in the pre-dawn hours to catch the departing train. Hawkins was the most experienced engineer, but his duties would have to be assumed by Pvt Wilson Brown. It is possible that Andrews received information from a contact here, Henry G. Cole, owner of the Marietta Hotel and a known Unionist, but this is unconfirmed.

  Andrews woke the men after only a few hours’ sleep and informed them all of their individual duties. They dressed in the dark and about half were summoned to Andrews’ room where he laid out more details. It was here that Sgt Maj Ross was so bold as to propose the enterprise be abandoned. He reasoned that the enemy’s vigilance was heightened owing to Mitchel’s advance; guards would be increased at stations, and the line blocked by unscheduled southbound trains. On their way south they had witnessed for themselves the huge rebel presence at Big Shanty. Andrews quietly reasoned with each fear: that their mission was to support Mitchel’s advance, that there were sidings to bypass oncoming trains, that their story that they were on a special assignment to head north was plausible, and that the rebels at Big Shanty would provide a false sense of security and the train would indeed be left unattended. His arguments were not entirely convincing and others joined Ross, although their protests were perhaps not as vigorous. Andrews refused to consider abandoning another operation and returning in disgrace. He argued that what they were about to do would be completely unexpected. Dramatically he closed with, “I will accomplish my purpose or leave my bones to bleach in Dixie.” Andrews added that if any man wished to quit, he could take a train in the opposite direction and work his way back to Union lines. With that seeming to be just as dangerous as stealing a train they agreed to obey his orders, and started out for the station.

  Pvt “Alf” Wilson later wrote the following about how they regarded their prospects at the start of the operation: “Our doom might be fixed before the setting of another sun. We might be hanging to the limbs of some trees along the railroad, with an enraged populace jeering and shouting vengeance because we had no more lives to give up; or we might leave a trail of fire and destruction behind us, and come triumphantly rolling into Chattanooga and Huntsville... to receive the welcome plaudits of comrades left behind, and the thanks of our general, and the praises of a grateful people.”

  The train-stealers

  Andrews collected his raiders together, no doubt flustered by the absence of four men, one being the much-needed engineer, Hawkins. There was no time to run back to the Marietta Hotel to check on the two men there. With no known reason for their disappearance h
e was forced to hide his concerns that the mission might be compromised. He reportedly gave his final instructions:

  Get seats near each other in the same car and of course say nothing of our business on the way up. When the train makes the Big Shanty breakfast stop, keep your places till I tell you to go. If anything unexpected happens, look to me for the lead. Knight, Brown, and Alfred Wilson will go with me to the engine. The rest will go on the left of the train forward of where we’ll uncouple it. [Camp McDonald was on the opposite side.] Climb into the cars as quickly as you can when the order is given. If anyone interferes, shoot him, but don’t fire unless you have to.

  They purchased tickets to different destinations and scattered out on the platform just as the first morning Atlanta–Chattanooga passenger/freight chugged in at 5.00am having departed Atlanta one hour previously. It was scheduled to arrive at Chattanooga at 3.40pm and the soldiers were provided with vouchers for the $5 fare. The two passenger cars, partly filled with passengers from Atlanta, were filling up fast. Ahead of them were a mail and baggage car and three empty boxcars, the ideal arrangement for their plan. A tall stern-looking conductor wearing a deep blue coat and checkered trousers stepped off the train and shouted, “All aboard!” The raiders boarded through different cars, but all ended up in the front, with most having to stand. With a jerk the train started off on the 8-mile run to Big Shanty, curving around Kennesaw Mountain, the site of a future vicious battle. The apprehension of the raiders can well be imagined. The late sleepers, Hawkins and Porter, did rush to the station but were in time only to watch the train disappear into the distance. They must have realized with sinking hearts that not only had they failed to succeed in their military mission but that they were also abandoned in hostile territory. Taking a later train would only find them trapped by burning bridges – or so they assumed. Instead, they decided to venture into the countryside to avoid people.