Bushrod Johnston had formed on the left of the road; Kershaw marching over the crest of the hill in our front, and putting his brigade in line of battle on a broad plateau and along the foot hills of the mountains on the right.  Here the troops were halted, to wait the coming up of the rest of the division and Jenkins’ two brigades.  The cannonading of the enemy was especially severe during our halt, and General Kershaw had to frequently shift his regiments to avoid the terrific force of the enemy’s shells.  It was not the intention of the commanding General to bring on a general engagement here until he heard from his cavalry beyond the river and those to the west of the mountain.  The cavalry had been sent to cut off retreat and close the mountain passes, and the infantry was to press moderately in front, in order to hold the enemy in position.

Just before sunset, however, a general advance was made.  One of Kershaw’s regiments was climbing along the mountain side, endeavoring to gain the enemy’s left, and as our skirmishers became hotly engaged, the movements of the regiment on the side of the mountain were discovered, and the enemy began to retire.  Now orders were given to press them hard.  The rattle of Bushrod Johnston’s rifles on our left told of a pretty stiff fight he was having.  As the long row of bristling bayonets of Kershaw’s men debouched upon the plain in front of the enemy’s works, nothing could be seen but one mass of blue, making way to the rear in great confusion.  Our artillery was now brought up and put in action, our infantry continuing to press forward, sometimes at double-quick.

We passed over the enemy’s entrenchments without firing a gun.  Night having set in, and General Longstreet hearing from his cavalry that all in the enemy’s rear was safe, ordered a halt for the night, thinking the game would keep until morning.  During the night, however, by some misunderstanding of orders, the commander of the cavalry withdrew from the mountain passes, and the enemy taking advantage of this outlet so unexpectedly offered, made his escape under cover of darkness.  Here we had another truthful verification of the oft’ quoted aphorism of Burns, about “the best laid plans of mice and men.”

This last attempt of Longstreet to bring the enemy to an engagement outside of Knoxville proving abortive, the commanding General determined to close the campaign for the season, and to put his troops in as comfortable winter quarters as possible.  This was found on the right or east bank of the Holston, near Morristown and the little hamlet of Russellville.  The brigade crossed the Holston about the 17th of December, in a little flat boat, holding about two companies at a time, the boat being put backwards and forwards by means of a stout rope, the men pulling with their hands.  A blinding sleet was falling, covering the rope continually with a sheet of ice, almost freezing the hands of the thinly clad and barefooted soldiers.  But there was no murmuring nor complaint—­all were as jolly and good-natured as if on a picnic excursion.  Hardship had become a pleasure and sufferings, patriotism.  There were no sickness, no straggling, nor feelings of self-constraint.