The following are articles and facts I or others have found about Battery I and Artillery.
In Timeline Nov./Dec. 1997 issue, there is an article named "Rescue By Rail". The article is about the moving of troops south to help break the siege on Chattanooga. It tells of their encounters as they made their way west though the mid-west. There is a paragraph about Battery I. it reads, "Cambridge was also the scene of one of the more serious incidents involving civilians to occur during the entire movement. One of the trains stopped briefly in the community, and a few men jumped off and entered a grocery store with a saloon attached. A member of Battery I of the First Ohio Light Artillery ordered some refreshment, lifted his mug, and said,"Here's to Brough." (Ohio Gov. Brough) The store owner objected, prompting the soldier and his comrades to send up a louder salute. Harsh words ensued, and, picking up a cheese knife, the proprietor stabbed the original Brough enthusiast in the back. One of the men yelled out, "Battery 'I,' where are you?" This incited a general rush on the store. The taverner fled out a back door, and the soldiers pursued, muskets blazing. They brought their man down with a ball in the thigh. Meanwhile, the soldiers ransacked the store, helping themselves to brushes, handkerchiefs, and other notions that they later distributed to feminine admirers along the route of their journey."
From Round Shot and Rammers by Harold L. Peterson, he writes about an incident that involved Augustus "Cub" Buell, who served as number 3. They were firing old-style Napoleons with dolphins, one of the very first ones made. He recounts his altercation with his number 1 man.
"I shall never forget the behavior of our no. 1 in action. It was old Griff Wallace, of the 7th Wisconsin. He was certainly an artist at the muzzle of a gun. On this occasion he didn't pretend to sponge, except at about every fifth load. Meantime the hot vent was burning my thumbstall to a crisp and scorching my thumb, so I would call out:
"For _____ _____'s sake, Griff, sponge the gun!"
And he would answer:
"Sponge, _____ _____!" "Stick to the vent, you little _____ _____!!"
"Stick!!!"
Ordinarily I would have resented that epithet, but did not feel called upon to do so then. Toward the last it was really painful. As the leather kept burning through I would pull the thumbstall down until no more of it was left, and then I appealed to Griff that the vent was burning my flesh. All the satisfaction I got was a fierce growl between his Irish teeth:
"Thumb it with the bone, then, ____ ____ you!!"
I can still see that Irish hero now, his curly hair loose on his bare head, his arms bare to the elbows, as he had thrown away cap and jacket, and rolled up his shirt sleeves when we unlimbered. After it was all over, and we were sipping our coffee under the shadow of Griffin's headquarters at the little church that evening, I said:
"Griff, suppose I had let go that hot vent when you wouldn't sponge, and there had been a premature discharge in consequence?"
"Well," he says "Cub, I had thought of that, and had made up my mind to brain you at once with the rammer-head if that occurred!"
How deliciously Irish that was! The joke of this will instantly be understood by an artilleryman. If I had ever let go of that vent there wouldn't have been enough left of Pat and his rammer to brain a flea. He would have been blown from the muzzle."