I received this request from a Mr. Glenn Longacre of Plainfield, Il. up by Chicago. Until he sent this to me, I had never heard of the story. In researching and help from friends, I found out that postcards didn’t become popular until the 1880’s, so the idea of an actual postcard is probably unachievable. For those that have been to our railroad, this all played out about 2 miles east of our house.
I would really appreciate this to stay civil and keep the topic related to the railroad operations and accident and not a reenactment of the civil war, which will obviuously cause Bob to lock the thread. This is taking some effort for me to type and I would like to share it.
I’ll write this in stages to keep from loosing the work of copying it by a finger error, please be patient.
Cover of book -
“ON THE PLAINS IN '65” by GEO. H. Holliday; Late Sarg’t. Co. G, Sixth W. Va. Vet. VoD Calvary.
Twelve Months in the Volunteer Cavary Service; among the Indians of Nebraska, Colorado, Dakota, Wyoming, and Montana.
“Then we started. Pell mell up the river we went”.
“Thrilling Adventures, Fine Scenery, and How the Boys Put In the Time in the Far West”
Dedicated to the Grand Army Republic by the Author
Entered according to the act of Congress in the Librarian’s Office, at Washington, D. C. in the year 1883.
Page 8
withstanding the aforesaid New York bummers had passed over the road just ahead of us, and had grossly insulted and mistreated the good people, who mistook them for part of the Army of the Potomac, and wanted to treat them kindly.
At many of the towns along the road our train was stopped, where great kettles of hot coffee and bean soup until you couldn’t rest (never turn a cold shoulder on bean soup, boys) had been prepared , and thousands of pies and cords of ginger bread were lying in reserve for us. Our stomachs being entire strangers to the latter, we found some trouble in Introducing the rich strangers, and more trouble in maintaining the new acquaintances. At any rate, some of the boys became as they declared, “sea sick”, while others asserted that in their “honest own on the same , and ginger bread thouroughly stirred up by the motion of the cars over a rough road; was a combination of delicacies never intended by nature to lay tranquilly on the craw of even a soldier. And unless that railroad company used those cars immediately after we vacated them for shipping hogs, they certainly lost money in the transport of troops.
At Cincinnati we were joined by the Third Massachusetts Cavalry, Fouteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry, and the Twenty-first New York Cavalry, all destined for the seat of the Indian hostilities in the West, and under Major General Frank Wheaton.
A night parade through the streets of the Queen City, then a camp during the remainder of the night on the streets and next morning we were loaded into three trains bound for St. louis via the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad (note - these are the tracks running two blocks from our house and eventually became the B&O Southwestern and now CSX tracks, but from 1858 to 1878 they were wide gauge and 60 inches between the rails - RG)
Had not a dreadful collision occurred near Carlisle, Ill (Carlyle - RG), in which we lost several men and nearly all our horses, the trip would not be worth noticing. Reader, have you ever witnessed a collison of railroad trains loaded with solders and all their munitions of war, together with several hundred horses? If not, don’t pine for the spectacle. It is one of those things which is easier to imagine than look upon. Collins Station (now Huey, Il-RG) is a little village on the O&MRR, and is situate three miles east of Carlisle, a thriving town on the same road.
It was eleven o’clock at night when our train was stopped at Collins Station to await orders. We were an extra train and running “out of time”. The orders soon came to run down to Carlisle (west-RG) and pass an east bound train lying on the switch.
About the same moment the conductor of the east bound train received an order to wait on the siding until our train would pass. He was told by the operator who gave him the order that the west bound train was loaded wioth “Yankee Troops”.
This conductor was but a few months before held a commission as captain in a Missouri rebel regiment, and of course still held a grudge against the men who borne a part in wiping out his little Southern Confederacy. In fact, his treacherous heart yearned for revenge.
Here was such an opportunity as would never be afforded again. Stepping down to his engineer, he ordered him to run with all speed up to Collins Station, where he would pass an extra freight on the siding.
Immediately his train moved on to the main track, making all speed to Collins Station. So it will seem that the two trains left the two stations about the same moment, each engineer thinking that he is to make good time, and that the other is waiting for him to pass.
Half way between the towns is a trestle, work a half-mile length across a vast swamp (the Kaskaskia River Valley and now a large fill immediately east of Carlyle - RG).
But I can better describe the scene by my own observation and personal experience. It was now midnight and dark as Egypt. (an interesting analogy, as all of southern Illinois is known as “Little Egypt”- RG) Nearly every man on our train was in the “land of repose”. We were in box cars. Behind the train was apassneger coach, in which the officers were stored. My company occupied the third car from the rear. The next car in advance of ours was filled with two companies. Then there were eight or ten cars immediately behind the engine filled with horses and equipage.
I had taken off my boots and made a pillow of them. We were “sardined” upon the floor of that car as compactly as possible. No man could turn over with out the consent of the whole squade, and then the order “right spoon” or " left spoon” had first to be given, so that all turn at once, when a general flopping over followed, not, howeve, without a good deal of “cussing” by those who had to be “waked” in order to successfully execute the command.
Suddenly the shrill scream of a whistle is heard, then another- only teo- in close succession. Then a terrific shock- a crash- a crash-then a dead halt. The very earth seemed to shake and tremble. In an instant we are rushing to and fro in wild confusion. Nothing canbe seen. presently, a side door is pushed open and a man leaps out into the darkness - down, down, he falls, sixty feet, into the marsh and among the logs that lie beneath us.
One glance out, and we see fire falling from the engine and realize at a glance we are on ahigh bridge. The door is closed immediately. Now the hissing of steam., the dying groans and prayers of wounded and mangled men, the struggles and hard breathing of hundreds of horses are borne to our ears, and we begin to realize that a terrible accident has occurred.
Now the sound of voices is audible. Those who have escaped unhurt begin to cast about for some means of escape. The alarming fact that we were upon a high trestle was communicated one to another. Then the cry is raised that the bridge and wreck wre on fire, and that the bridge would soon fall. This caused a stampede and several men wree hurt in the rush that followed. Every man on the bridge fullly believed that the whole mass would go down together before we could possibly escape.
For the first time since the battle of Winchester I tried with all my heart to be religious. But I found that my desire to reach the “shore” at the east end of the bridge far out weighed my longing to plant my feet firmly upon the shore that “borne from which no traveler ever does come back”. Perhaps it was because I realized that i was nearer the earth than the heavenly land.
But while I was preparing to meet the end, which I thought would soon come, some of the boys seized their carbines , and with the butt ends commenced to smash in the end of the car. Soon a hole appeared, and in a twinkling the end of the car was demolished, ansd we were climbimng to the roof. Running to the rear of the train we found several hundred mennupon the top and inside the officer’s car. Here a dim lamp was procurred, and by its light we commenced an extremely perilous trip back over the trestle work, not knowing how far or when the land would be reached.
Such a spectacle was never seen before nor since. In fact, it was too dark to be seen on that night. There were four hundred of us - a general, colonel, lieutenant colonel, two majors, several captains and lieutenants - all together, straddle of the two rails “crawfishing” it, for none dared to attempt to walk the ties in the darkness.
To add to our already embarassing situation, a sudden gust of wind put an end to our light, and we found that we were in for the rest of our journey aided only by instinct. It was an hour of intense horror, which no pen can portray, no tongue can tell.
This all occurred in less time than I could write two lines of this narrative.
We had proceeded in this way nearly a quarter of a mile, making as rapid strides as possible, when the advance sent back the glad tidings that land had been discovered, and soon we stepped the weak one be one, upon terra firma, with a fervent “thank God” for our safe delivery.
Now our thoughts are wholly turned upon the work before us of resuing our unfortunate comrades. we now stand upon a high fill and cast our eyes in the direction of the wreck and try to scan the situation.
Our hearts are melted by the sounds which arise from the debris away down in the swamp below us. A bright light flashes up, near the engines and reveals the surroundings. It is the beacon light to guide us to the resuce. Then a voice is heard: “Help!, help!, in God’s name, help! The bridge is on fire!”
The burning embers fall down down until the the wreck beneath is ignites an a lurid ligh illuminates the terrrible scene. We are no able to see our way, and we hasten down the embankment and are soon amongst the debris assisting the living and removing the dead. I remembered the man who jumped from the car, when the collison occurred, and by the aid of a torch light, we found him, in a half stopoped position - dead. he was a Sergeant by the name of Ashburn.
In an hour after the accident the towns of Carlisle and Collins Station, and all the surrounding neighborhoods, were depopulated and the people massed at the scene of the disaster. Such a throng of people had never been gathered together in that section of the country, especially at midnight.
By the aid of a thousand willing hands, the flames were soon extinguished, the wounded cared for, and the dead gathered up.
The cry for help which had been heard came from the engineer of our train. His legs were securely fastened between the tender and boiler, which had jammed together, and by the light of the slow burning bridge his pallid face could plainly be seen hanging from the cab window, and his faint voice could be heard pleading for assistance. It was more than any man could stand, and several of the boys attempted to climfb to him at the risk of their own lives, for it was thought that the whole structure would fall before morning.
After repeated efforts one of our men, reached, and made every effort to release him, but alas to no purpose. He died while giving a message to be delivered to his young wife and child, and his white faced dropped and hung lifeless by the window of his engine.
The fireman’s body had been severed, and hism lower limbs and part of his body hung beneath the bridge by his suspenders - a ghastly sight for his wife to look upon when she arrived by a special train from St. louis the next morning.
Underneath the trestle, on either side, were vast heaps of dead and crippled horses, together with the debris of eight cars which had conveyed them to the scene of their death. Fortunately for us the horse cars were in advance, and of course saved us fCrom total destruction.
A forage car containing corn and hay and a half dozen men had gone with the wreck. These men were all killed. The two engines seemed to have almost buried themselves in each other, while the rear cars of both trains were still on the tracks.
An enterprizing photographer was early upon the spot, and photographed the wreck and sol about one thousand pictures at fifty cents each, as we afterwards learned. (And this is the reason the portion of the book was sent to me is because the gentleman from Plainfield is trying to find one of those pictures - RG)
Upon the trestle near our engine layed a few dead horses, upon which the bottom of a car securely rested. The sides had fallen from this car, dragging with them all the horses it contained - save one. There he stood like a marble statue. This horse belonged to a Sergeant Cabel, who called him “Giribaldi”.
Everybody knew this horse, and respected him for his noble qualities. Cabel loved him and was loved in turn by “Giribaldi”.
The old mustang had carried his master through two years of hardship, and was never know to flicker, and could live as long on wind and go as far in a week as any horse in the army of the Potomac. He had stood by his master in many tight places - waiting patiently in a fence corner for hours for his wayward master to get sober on more than one occasion - now, could Cabel desert him? Not much! He would listen to none of the propositions suggested “to put the horse out of his misery”; but hastened to Carlysle and soon returned with block and tackle, and by the aids of hundreds of volunteers, the old pony was lowered to the ground amidst the deafening shouts of eight thousand sympathetic souls. This old mustang has a further history, which I will relate further on.
The wounded men were kindly taken care of by the good people of Carlysle, as indeed were all who wished to avail themselves of the proffered hospitality. Engines were soon brought from Cincinnatti and ASt. louis, and by night the track was cleared. Out of the thirty-three horsesm in my company but one remained - “Giribaldi”.
Of course you ask what became of the rebel captain. I can’t tell you. For a whole day we searched the woods and every corner in the town, but could gain no clew. One thing was evident, he never got on his train after giving his engineer his orders. Had we found him, his carcass would have dangled in the air beneath that fatal bridge.
Leaving our wounded to the tender care of the good people, and burying our dead in sorrow, we embarked on another train for St. Louis.
And so ends Chapter 1 of this interesting story. I think, I’d like to find a copy of the book and read more of the story. I had never heard of this, and so far haven’t found anyone in Carlyle that has. We are going to get it published in local papers and see if we can find any more information. I’ll post if I find anything.
Thanks for tolerating my editing as I went along.
