instead of being reserves. When our line was deployed and ordered
forward we were the very first. We struck stubborn western troops who
knew how to fight. The conflict was terrific and raged all day. When
night fell the engagement was stopped. Throwing out skirmishers we
found that the lines were mixed up terribly. We were among the Yankees
and they were calling, “What command is this?” It was midnight before
the lines were reformed. Then we had a night’s sleep on the ground,
knowing that on the morrow some of us would fall in defense of our
country—some of us would never see home and mother again. General
Longstreet arrived in the night with re-inforcements, bringing a
division from Virginia. At daybreak the struggle was renewed. On both
sides was the determination, “God being our helper, we will win this
day.” Wave after wave of deadly lead was sent against those Western
troops, who contested every inch of the ground, who would stand a
charge, and stay on the field. But our blood was hot, we fought for
home, and against an invading foe and we could not give up at all. At
the end of two days a battle of battles had been fought and won for
the Confederate cause. But alas, how many Southern boys had bitten the
dust. The field was so thickly strewn with dead we could scarcely walk
over it without stepping on the corpses. Our Regiment lost 42 killed
and 103 wounded, and of the 120,000 men engaged on both sides, 28,000
were killed and wounded.
Longstreet’s men said to us, “Boys, you have tougher men to fight than
we.”
If we had followed up our victory and had Forrest cut off the enemy’s
supplies what a difference it would have made. We might have stretched
our lines to the Kentucky border. Such are the mistakes of war.
At this battle one of the boys captured two horses and gave them to Dr.
Arnold. He said he would draw feed for them and on the march I could
ride one of them. I named my horse “General Thomas” but before we left
our first camp the assistant surgeons could draw feed only for one
horse so I was afoot as I had been for two years.
We established a line of breastworks on Missionary Ridge and held
Lookout Mountain, a mountain over a mile in height, and, as we thought,
commanded Chattanooga.
The Yankees saw that something must be done or things would be booming
in Dixie. They brought to the front Dutch, Irish, Hottentots and
all kinds of troops, and by the last of October the Sequatchie (?)
(Wauhatchie?) Valley was swarming like a beehive.
Once a Dutch corps of 15,000 went down the valley through a gap to
reach our rear. Bragg sent to meet them about 15,000 troops, placing
them arrowed in front. He had a line under General Hindeman with
orders, at a certain signal, to rush across, cutting them off entirely
from the main army. The signal was never given and we do not know why
to this day. At that signal we were to follow across the valley at
double-quick but Mr. Dutch discovered he was in a trap and he marched
out again.
There was a Union man living on the route of this Dutch Devil, who had
not joined either army. He had lived on his farm unmolested by the
Southern troops, and supposed that of course he would be protected
by the Northern troops. As the Dutch marched down to attack us they
stopped at this man’s home, searched the place, insulted his wife and
knocked him down. As they came running back they had no time to tarry,
but one at a time, a straggler, would drop into his smokehouse to see
if there was one ham left. The Union man took a long, keen bowie-knife
and stood in the dark corner of the smokehouse; when only one man
entered he stabbed him to the heart and put his body into the well. He
killed three men. Next morning, he with his wife and children, walked
into our camp. He said he was ready to fight to the bitter end. He took
his family South and came back and made a bad soldier for them.
November 23, 24 and 25 we fought the “Battle Above the Clouds,” the
terrible conflict of Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge. We were
fighting continuously during those three days. We were in breastworks
on the ridge near Lookout Mountain, but when the fighting was fiercest
we were sent to relieve the commands at the extreme right of the
Yankee army. They came in solid front five columns deep and charged
our breastworks but were driven back hour after hour with terrible
slaughter. Late in the afternoon they made a concentrated attack on
our center and drove our men out of line. We had to give up Lookout
Mountain and we retreated to the Ridge about midnight. Throughout the
night Sherman’s troops were coming up, and next day we were attacked
in front and flank. Our breastworks were of no use as Lookout Mountain
commanded the Ridge, so in spite of desperate struggles we were ordered
to retreat.
At Chattanooga it had been agreed that there should be no firing on
the line of pickets without notification. Here between the picket line
and the main line of battle our sporting boys sought “sheckle luck,”
those who were fortunate enough to have a few sheckles of Confederate
money. One day when General Hardee was officer of the day he ordered a
regiment deployed around the gamblers, but soldiers from all parts of
the field yelled to the boys to run, and run they did. General Hardee
did not get many.
In our company was a Kentucky lad named Barnett who had a brother in
the Union Army. They got permission to spend the day together. When the
day was over they separated, each going back to his command. That was
a war! Brother against brother, father against son, arrayed in deadly
combat.
We went to Dalton, marching all night. As we crossed the river it
seemed the coldest night our thinly clad men had ever experienced. Our
corps under Hardee was the rear guard. General Cleburne’s Division was
immediately in the rear. General Polk was our Brigadier General. About
two o’clock we passed General Cleburne.
[ . . . ]
mountain, looking and thinking.
“Something is going to happen” I said to the boys.
“Why?”
“Look at General Cleburne, don’t you see war in his eyes?”
We had crossed Ringold Mountain, but we were sent back to take the
horses from the cannon, put men in their places, and pulled it quickly
to the top of the mountain, so to the summit over rocks and between
trees two pieces were carried. Our regiment was sent to the top with
them. Two minutes more would have been too late. Not fifty yards away
on the other side of the hill were Yankees climbing for the same goal.
Then the firing began. We had the advantage in having a tree to use as
breastworks, and in being able to see them. Whenever one stepped aside
from his tree to shoot our men got him. Captain Shoup and John Baird
rolled rocks down the hill and when a Yankee dodged the other boys shot
him. We picked off dozens. When the cannon was got ready and began
shelling the woods, breaking the trees, tearing up rocks and showering
them on the lines below, they had to break and retreat in haste down
the hill.
If we had not got there as soon as we did our line would have been the
one to retreat.
General Cleburne took us next to Ringold Gap, a gap dug by the railroad
through the mountain. He made a talk to the boys, telling us that we
were there to save the army, which was five miles away and could not
possibly get help to us. Our task would require nerve and will of which
he knew we had plenty. We were to form two lines of battle across
the gap and were not to fire until he gave the signal, (by signs, as
commands would not be heard in the roar of guns.)
The Yankees having failed to break our line on the mountain had massed
their forces at the gap, determined to break Cleburne’s line, when the
rest would be easy for them.
They came on seven columns deep to our two. We watched them advance
and seconds seemed hours. We felt they would be on us before Cleburne
ever gave the signal. Would he never give it? At last when the time was
ripe, he, who knew the art of war so well, gave the signal to fire, and
such deadly work did we perform as was not surpassed in the whole four
years of war. We let loose on them four pieces of cannon. The command
to stop firing was not given until the number of dead in our front was
greater than our Brigade. This fight showed strategy and bravery. It
checked the advance of an army five times greater than our Division,
and it proved to General Hardee that he had one man who could plan and
execute a battle with any adversary. Ever after, Cleburne with his
Arkansas, Tennessee and Texas men was placed in the hottest part of
battle. Our loss was 88 killed, 23 wounded, and their loss was reported
in Northern papers as 2,000 killed, wounded and captured.
We went into winter quarters at Dalton, our regiment being in front
of the general army. We camped near Tunnel Hill. We had good foraging
ground and could get chickens, eggs, butter, so we lived high. John
Loftin was captain of the foragers and he was a good one too. He only
got caught once but he lied out of that. Two negroes, who belonged
to two doctors of our Brigade, went to Dalton one night to see the
sights and buy half-moon pies, big sorghum ginger-bread, and other
things. Coming home at midnight they were crossing a railroad trestle
when two robbers called on them to halt. Sam began to parley with them
when whack! they hit him over the head, and told him to give up his
money. He yielded up his shin-plasters, all he had. They then took
Tom’s can. He did not have much so they told him to pull. He was a good
runner especially when scared, and he lit out over rocks and brush,
beating his partner to camp. With eyes as big as saucers he related
his exploits to his master. They did not visit Dalton at night again.
We used to go over there to see the girls and have parties and sorghum
“candy pulls.” It was a great diversion, and between the lines, when
the guards were on to it they would arrest, but the boys could usually
outgeneral them.
From this camp I was sent on a three days’ furlough to Augusta to buy
some drug supplies not to be found in Atlanta. When I reached Atlanta
whom should I meet but George Roberts, one of my old mess-mates who had
been transferred to Morgan’s Cavalry. Morgan had been captured, and all
that was left of the command was at Macon re-organizing. George was
buying horses. He was flush and wanted me to take a thousand dollars,
but I had lots of money, at least for these days. He went to the depot
to see me off. Robert was a fine fellow. He was a regular city rat. We
country boys used to get him to pilot us around the city. He would know
all the streets in a day and could take us anywhere we wanted to go.
After the war he settled in Texas, where he was cashier of a bank. He
died several years ago.
In Augusta I met Colonel Snyder of the Eighth Arkansas. He was
from Pocahontas, Ark., and was then on a furlough. I also met Ed
M. Dickinson, Thad Kinman and Ben Adler. They belonged to the
quartermaster’s department under Captain Bridewell and Major Moon.
They kept books as big as a dining table. As they belonged to this
particular department they helped me to draw a new jacket suit. They
lived in a fine city and fared sumptuously, so knowing all the ropes
they made it mighty pleasant for me. Through Ed I met an uncle whom I
had not seen before. It was on a crowded street in the city, but I knew
him at once from his resemblance to my father. When I accosted him he
was very dignified and seemed to doubt me until I told him the names of
the whole family. Then he insisted upon me going to his home. He had an
interesting family. My grandmother died at his home and was buried in a
cemetery in Augusta. I got back to camp on time. After living off the
fat of the land our regular diet of blue beef and corn bread somehow
failed to tickle the palate. George Thomas, who had been wounded at
Murfreesboro, got back to us at this camp.
We were waiting to move on the checkerboard. Jeff Davis, General Bragg,
Johnston and all were calling for the troops to have a decisive battle
hereabouts, but there was a difference of opinion between Davis and the
commanding generals. Our Brigade was ordered, I suppose to Mississippi.
We went by rail to Montgomery, were halted there, and were sent back to
Dalton and went into camp again.
May 8th, 1864 we began the famous Dalton campaign, under the leadership
of the superb General Joseph E. Johnston. He had between forty and
fifty thousand men divided into three corps, commanded respectively by
Generals Hardee, Hood and Polk. He was opposed by Sherman with about
100,000 well drilled seasoned soldiers [ . . . ] by Generals
Thomas, McPherson and Schofield, but Johnston was equal to the campaign.
May 8th we were menaced by the enemy in front and flank. May 9th we
moved our position two miles to the left and on May 10th we moved
rapidly back to the top of the mountain. We had no tents nor protection
of any kind. We slept on the ground among the rocks. Although it rained
in torrents, we were so dead tired from our 33 mile march, we did not
know it was raining until we were wet through. At daybreak we were
again on the march and went to Snake Creek Gap, then three miles to the
left and built breastworks. From there we marched to Resaca. May 15th
we had heavy fighting and were forced from our position. The retreat
was covered by Hardee’s corps. Our engineers had to build, under fire,
a bridge for the army to cross the Costenaula. In fact from Dalton to
Atlanta we had a continuous battle. We moved back slowly, and only when
flanked and outnumbered. When we adopted a new line a few miles back,
we built breastworks. Thus marching, battling, building works, in rain
and mud, with no camp, no tents and but little food, the campaign went
on. But in all our skirmishes and engagements we used every advantage
to their great loss. We fell back to Calhoun, then to Adairsville. We
were the rear guard on that road. After we had crossed a creek and
marched to the top of the hill, (our Cavalry to the rear), the Yankees
moved opposite and opened up a battery. We were ordered to lie down and
not to fire until told to do so. General Polk and General Jackson rode
in front of us and the sharp-shooters and artillery of the enemy made
it hot for them, bullets going through their hats and clothes. General
Jackson would dodge, but General Polk would sit as straight as an arrow
and never move a muscle. I heard him when he told General Cleburne and
asked permission to advance on the enemy. When the courier returned
General Cleburne himself came to see the fun. From our hill could be
seen fifty thousand Yankee troops—Infantry, Cavalry and Artillery. For
our Brigade to advance against such a force was a visionary idea, and
the permission was not given.
We moved on to join our main army which was a few miles in front drawn
up in line of battle near Cassville. Our line was in open field, five
miles long. Each man had forty cartridges and knew how to use them.
General Johnston rode along the line and told the men he was going to
give battle. The soldiers threw their caps into the air and shouted
themselves hoarse with joy at the thought of going into a fight which
they felt in their souls would be successful. It was inspiring to see
such enthusiasm in battle scarred veterans who knew what fighting
meant. It was not theory with them, it was knowledge gained in bloody
experience. I was glad I was on that field and saw that flashing of
Southern bravery. Such patriots are born only of liberty-loving people,
born of God. That confidence of success, that confidence in their
leader was what Joseph E. Johnston had looked for, had prayed for.
He knew his position to be the best he had ever had. He now knew the
temper of his men. Nothing could have checked them. It would be the
biggest battle of the war and his success.
When this great battle was formed in Johnston’s brain and the Generals
ordered to occupy the ground assigned them, who was the first to say
he could not hold his position? Who, but General Hood! Histories love
to state that these generals led their men, but here was a time when
the general did not lead into battle the bravest men in the world who
were clamoring for the fight.
[Illustration: LYMAN B. GILL]
General Polk also expressed his disapproval of the movement. When his
two generals went back on him, Johnston was paralyzed and could not or
did not attempt to carry out his plan. Unlike Albert Sydney Johnson at
Shiloh, who, when his plan was disapproved of, and obstacles thrown in
his way, arose like the giant hero he was and said “You who are true,
go to your commands. The battle will begin at daybreak.” If he had
lived a few hours longer he would have won that battle beyond a doubt.
If Joseph E. Johnston had said something like this the men would have
done the rest, but when he ordered the line under the skirmish fire to
retreat they obeyed like true soldiers. It was a bitter disappointment,
but their trust in the great commander was firm. He hoped that other
opportunities would offer but when the time came he was relieved and
the command given to that General who had thwarted the greatest battle
of the Confederacy.
Johnston’s plan of campaign was the only one possible for us, fighting
against such odds. I am not a general, nor the son of a general, but
having been right on the ground for four years, feel that I am entitled
to an opinion. And so with all the men who composed Company G, First
Arkansas Regiment, Hardee Corps, Govan Brigade, Cleburne Division. The
verdict of these men who helped make history is that if Johnston’s
[ . . . ] had prevailed the Confederacy would have had a different
tale to tell at Atlanta.
Tacticians now agree that Johnston’s success in preserving his army
almost entire was an achievement of the greatest military science.
May 19th we left Cassville. We marched mostly by night, built
breastworks, and by daybreak were ready for the contest. On May 26th
the heaviest assault on our works took place. On our skirmish line,
a short distance in front of our works we had dump holes dug in the
ground, the dirt thrown out facing the enemy. Thirty men stayed in the
dumps until the main line came up. Then they opened fire and checked
the advance. When they could no longer do this, they ran back to the
line behind the breastworks.
At New Hope Church the enemy made a seven line concentrated assault
on our line. Our men were cool and steady, and all were splendid
shots. We waited until they were very near, then sent forth a sheet of
fire and lead that could not be withstood. The number of their dead
was enormous, and our own loss was considerable. We lost our first
lieutenant, Alley Walthall, here. He was a distant relative of General
Walthall, and as brave a man as ever lived on earth.
A lieutenant of another company was killed also. He was in one of the
dumps with one of the sixteen rifles. He had seen four Yankees fall
under his well-directed fire, but at last was mortally wounded. He
backed out of the dump and into a hollow where the enemy could see him
fall. His comrades went out and brought him behind the breastworks.
As he lay on the ground he conversed with his friends urging them to
become Christians. Sending for the Colonel, he told him that he (the
colonel) was a wicked man, and must lead a better life. By way of
comfort one of the boys told him how many Yankees he had killed in the
assault. The lieutenant said, “Yes, I killed three. But, my brother,
don’t gloat over it. Do your duty, but don’t gloat over it.” After
sending many loving messages home he passed away.
Meanwhile Sherman was receiving re-inforcements, and on June 9th moved
against our intrenchments along Lost Mountains. In this region there
was fighting for several days in the midst of almost incessant rain.
General Polk was killed during this engagement. June 15–17 we abandoned
both mountains and fell back to the great Kennesaw overlooking Marietta.
June 20th two of us got a permit to go to Marietta for tobacco and
other supplies. As we were passing through the residence part of the
city a kind-hearted lady invited us into the house to eat raspberries
with her family. We did not have the heart to refuse her hospitality,
so we went in. We had raspberries, cream and cake. Think of it, rebel
soldiers regaled with such delicacies! When we got back to camp we
told the boys about it and they said we lied! But the memory of that
kind act to strangers and common privates will last as long as life
itself.
On the 27th after a furious cannonading for hours by the enemy he made
a general advance in heavy columns. Their assault in seven lines deep
was vigorous and persistent on Cheatham’s and Cleburne’s Divisions of
Hardee’s Corps, the Confederates being covered by strong rifle pits
which could not be carried by front attack, coolly and rapidly pouring
a murderous fire into the massed Federals, causing losses entirely
out of proportion to those inflicted upon the Confederates. The loss
of the enemy in front of Cleburne’s Division was one thousand deaths.
After the repulse of the second desperate assault the dry leaves and
undergrowth in the forest before Cleburne’s Division were set on fire
by the shells and gun wadding, and began burning rapidly around the
Federal wounded and dead, exposing them to a horrible death. This
danger was observed by the Confederates who were ordered instantly to
cease firing and Lieutenant Colonel Martin, First Arkansas Regiment of
Cleburne’s Division, called to the Federals that as an act of humanity
his men would suspend further battle until the assailants could carry
off their dead and wounded who were liable to be burned alive. This
offer was accepted by the Federals and in this work of mercy the
Federals were joined by the Confederates who leaped their head logs and
helped to carry off their dead and wounded. This occurrence is perhaps
unparalleled in the annals of war. In this great struggle the Federal
army numbered about or over one hundred thousand and Confederates
numbered fifty thousand and in this Kennesaw battle our loss was eight
hundred and eight the Federal loss about five thousand.
July 4th was celebrated by skirmishing all day. Sherman hoped to
catch us and administer a fatal blow before we could cross the
Chattahootchee, but we threw up strong intrenchments so quickly, and
guarded the rear so skillfully that the army was all across the river
July 5th without having been molested.
But speaking of the Fourth of July. At this time Colonel Fellows,
who had been with our command on our first trip to Richmond, was in
prison at Johnson’s Island together with about three thousand other
officers. The rebels gained permission for Colonel Fellows to speak
on the stand used by the guards as a watch tower. As he poured forth
his thoughts, turning the Fourth of July to the glory of the South
even the Yankee guards, who had stopped to listen were spellbound by
his eloquence. He had it all his own way and the rebels were shouting
like mad. The officer of the day finally awoke to the situation, took
a file of soldiers, and brought the speech to a close. At another time
in the same prison Lincoln’s Proclamation was read, offering pardon and
freedom to all rebel prisoners who would take the oath of allegiance.
The officers lined up in the barracks and announced that any man who
wished to take the oath might step over to this line, give his name and
be free. When Colonel Fellows was called he made a five minute talk in
which he declared death was preferable. One of our boys, Shannon Logan
of Co. G, First Arkansas Regiment, eighteen years old, was captured.
He was a relative of General Logan and when his name appeared General
Logan’s family drove down to the prison with the papers necessary for
his release. They asked to see him and were shown a dirty, greasy,
lousy private. Through the grime they recognized a fine boy with a
noble face. They took him home, bathed him, clothed him, fed him, then
told him to be their boy thenceforth. If this lonely boy, away from
home, away from comrades had taken the oath he would have been free,
with loving kinsmen, with luxury and riches, but he said “No, no! I
will die first.” So for him it was back to the filthy prison among the
vermin and the rats.
[Illustration: LON STEADMAN
Now living at Paragould, Ark., where he was sheriff for ten years.]
This, one of the many instances of the loyalty displayed by the rank
and file, should be told to coming generations that they may know how
the Southern private never faltered, but was true to the core.
July 12th we crossed the Chattahootchee near Atlanta. July 18th we
marched four miles and built breastworks. July 20th there was hard
fighting at Peach Tree Creek in which we lost heavily. Our noble
Captain Shoup was wounded and the command devolved upon Second
Lieutenant Clay Lowe. He and John R. Loftin were the only commissioned
officers we had left.
July 22 we marched ten miles to the right of Atlanta. Hardee had
attacked the enemy in the rear and there had been a terrible struggle
which lasted for hours. Toward evening we heard the Yankee Bands
playing and the soldiers shooting and cheering and we knew they had won.