Our ordnance was crossing on our bridge, and all was over except two wagons. Our regiment was waiting on the bank. General Cheatham and his staff were at the top of the bank. General Forrest rode up to our bridge and was about to cut off the three wagons of ordnance when the driver whipped up his horses to join the other wagons. Forrest took his pistol and threatened to kill him if he attempted to go on the bridge ahead of the cavalry. The driver was quite plucky. He said his orders were to follow the ordnance train; if General Forrest did not like it he must go to higher officers. Forrest was furious. He spurred his horse and went to General Cheatham, swearing he would cross that bridge ahead of the ordnance. General Cheatham was perfectly calm, and explained that he wished to get the wagons over before night, and into camp, so he could lay his hands on his ordnance. Forrest was not pacified. He drew his pistol and threatened to shoot Cheatham, who rode to him at once, saying, “Shoot; I am not afraid of any man in the Confederacy.”
The infantry with loaded guns, closed in around them, prepared to defend Cheatham. The cavalrymen, who had not heard what was said, came up the hill to see what was going on. Forrest’s adjutant plunged between the two generals and pulled Forrest down toward the bridge. By that time the wagons were over. So General Forrest and his troops crossed the bridge without further parley. It might have been a terrible tragedy. If either general had been killed, we would have had war right there.
Next day Forrest sent an apology to Cheatham, at least so it was reported. The affair was witnessed by our company, but it was kept quiet as we had troubles enough without fighting each other. Forrest was a great officer and a fine cavalry leader, but he was tyrannical and hot-headed.
December 20th we marched all day on the pike to Pulaski in a cold rain—a rain that froze on the trees. We had to sleep on the wet ground. Many men were barefooted and marched over the pike with bleeding feet. We were called the “straggling squad” because we had to march more slowly than the others, and we were between the infantry and the rear cavalry, commanded by Forrest. In his mind a straggler deserved death. When he came up to a poor little squad he struck one, a Lieutenant, who was in charge of the barefoot squad, over the head with his sword and ordered him to go on and keep up with his command. He would listen to no excuse, as if these barefooted men, braving sleet and snow with bleeding feet, were not doing their duty as loyally as any man in the army.