As the gunners of Cobb’s Kentucky Battery worked feverishly to pour shells into the onrushing columns of Union soldiers, an odd sound was heard. When the soldiers looked: “It was a strange sight, indeed. A little kitten had somehow gotten in front of our lines.”
You see we were near a farm house and the people had gone away in a great hurry and left the kitten behind. I expect the mother and perhaps the balance of the little family were separated, too. It dared not run away from its old play-ground, yet those terrible guns poured fire toward its frightened it ever so much. It did the best it could, and that was to ‘meouw me-u-ow-me-ow—w.’ Presently a brave man that was loading a cannon determined to save the little refugee. It was very dangerous, you will know, when I tell you that the shot and shell, and bullets were falling like hail and throwing dust and dirt right in our faces, so that we had to lay flat on the ground to escape sudden death. But this noble man only hesitated a moment and then springing lightly over the works caught the kitten and bore it safely inside. Putting it softly down, it nestled close to the ground and seemed contented. When the battle was over he took the stranger with him, and nursed and fed it, and it was the pet of the battery. It was a pretty sight to see perched on the caisson, or across the shoulder of an artilleryman, a large tortoise shell tom cat. He was called ‘Resaca’ and was in a great many bloody battles.