Both governments were greatly displeased with the results of the battle of Chickamauga—­the Federals at their army failing to come up to their expectations and gaining a victory, instead of a disastrous defeat; the Confederates at their commanders in not following up their success and reaping greater results.  Under such circumstances, there must be some one on whom to place the blame.  General Rosecrans censured General McCook and General Crittenden, commanders of the Twentieth and Twenty-first Corps, and these two able soldiers were relieved of their commands, while General Rosecrans himself was severely censured by the department in Washington, and soon afterwards relieved of his command.

The regiments of the brigade were now all short of field officers—­the Seventh and Battalion with none, and the Eighth and Fifteenth in charge of Majors.  However, Colonel W.G.  Rice joined us on the way to East Tennessee and took command of his battalion.

After a stay of a week in the beautiful Valley of Sweetwater, we were moved to Loudon, the railroad crossing of the Tennessee River, the railroad bridge having been burned by the enemy.  The country in East Tennessee was greatly divided in sentiment, some for the Union cause and some for the Confederate cause.  Rumors of outrages and doings of desperadoes were rife, and the soldiers were somewhat dubious in going far into the country, for fear of running up against bushwhackers, of which the country was said to be full.

While one train with the Third was being pulled over the East Tennessee Railroad towards Sweetwater by a strange engineer over a track long unused, and cars out of repair, an occurrence took place which might have ended more seriously than it did under the circumstances.  The train, composed of box cars, one company inside and one on top, was running along at a good, lively rate.  A stampede took place among the troops on top, who began jumping right and left down a steep embankment and running with all their speed to the woods in the distance.  It was just after daylight, and those inside the cars not knowing what the trouble was, and a great many on the top being roused from their slumbers and seeing the others leaping in great disorder, and hearing the word “bushwhackers” being called out, threw their blankets aside and jumped likewise.  Soon the cars were almost empty, those above and within all thinking danger was somewhere, but invisible.  Just then a train of passenger cars, containing General McLaws, General Kershaw, their staffs, and others, rounded the cut in our rear, and was running at break-neck speed into the freight train in front.  Those in the passenger cars seeing those from the train in front running for dear life’s sake for the woods, began to climb through windows and off of the platforms, the engineers and firemen on both trains leaping like the men.  So we had the spectacle of one train running into another and neither under control, although the levers had been reversed.  In a moment the rear train plunged into the front one, piling up three or four cars on their ends.  Fortunately, only one or two were hurt by jumping and none by the collision.  It seems almost miraculous to think of two car loads of soldiers jumping from trains at full speed and on a high embankment and a great many from top, and so few getting hurt.