THE BATTLE OF THE 22D OF JULY--THE ARMS OF THE TENNESSEE ASSAULTED
FRONT AND REAR--DEATH OF GENERAL MCPHERSON--ASSUMPTION OF COMMAND BY
GENERAL LOGAN--RESULT OF THE BATTLE.
Naturally, we had a consuming hunger for news of what was being
accomplished by our armies toward crushing the Rebellion. Now, more
than ever, had we reason to ardently wish for the destruction of the
Rebel power. Before capture we had love of country and a natural desire
for the triumph of her flag to animate us. Now we had a hatred of the
Rebels that passed expression, and a fierce longing to see those who
daily tortured and insulted us trampled down in the dust of humiliation.
The daily arrival of prisoners kept us tolerably well
informed as to the general progress of the campaign, and we
added to the information thus obtained by getting--almost
daily--in some manner or another--a copy of a Rebel paper.
Most frequently these were Atlanta papers, or an issue of the
“Memphis-Corinth-Jackson-Grenada-Chattanooga-Resacca-Marietta-Atlanta
Appeal,” as they used to facetiously term a Memphis paper that left
that City when it was taken in 1862, and for two years fell back from
place to place, as Sherman’s Army advanced, until at last it gave up
the struggle in September, 1864, in a little Town south of Atlanta,
after about two thousand miles of weary retreat from an indefatigable
pursuer. The papers were brought in by “fresh fish,” purchased from
the guards at from fifty cents to one dollar apiece, or occasionally
thrown in to us when they had some specially disagreeable intelligence,
like the defeat of Banks, or Sturgis, or Bunter, to exult over. I was
particularly fortunate in getting hold of these. Becoming installed as
general reader for a neighborhood of several thousand men, everything
of this kind was immediately brought to me, to be read aloud for the
benefit of everybody. All the older prisoners knew me by the nick-name
of “Illinoy” --a designation arising from my wearing on my cap, when
I entered prison, a neat little white metal badge of “ILLS.” When any
reading matter was brought into our neighborhood, there would be a
general cry of:
“Take it up to ‘Illinoy,’” and then hundreds would mass around my
quarters to bear the news read.
The Rebel papers usually had very meager reports of the operations of
the armies, and these were greatly distorted, but they were still very
interesting, and as we always started in to read with the expectation
that the whole statement was a mass of perversions and lies, where
truth was an infrequent accident, we were not likely to be much
impressed with it.
There was a marled difference in the tone of the reports brought in
from the different armies. Sherman’s men were always sanguine. They
had no doubt that they were pushing the enemy straight to the wall,
and that every day brought the Southern Confederacy much nearer its
downfall. Those from the Army of the Potomac were never so hopeful.
They would admit that Grant was pounding Lee terribly, but the shadow
of the frequent defeats of the Army of the Potomac seemed to hang
depressingly over them.
There came a day, however, when our sanguine hopes as to Sherman were
checked by a possibility that he had failed; that his long campaign
towards Atlanta had culminated in such a reverse under the very walls
of the City as would compel an abandonment of the enterprise, and
possibly a humiliating retreat. We knew that Jeff. Davis and his
Government were strongly dissatisfied with the Fabian policy of Joe
Johnston. The papers had told us of the Rebel President’s visit to
Atlanta, of his bitter comments on Johnston’s tactics; of his going so
far as to sneer about the necessity of providing pontoons at Key West,
so that Johnston might continue his retreat even to Cuba. Then came the
news of Johnston’s Supersession by Hood, and the papers were full of
the exulting predictions of what would now be accomplished “when that
gallant young soldier is once fairly in the saddle.”
All this meant one supreme effort to arrest the onward course of
Sherman. It indicated a resolve to stake the fate of Atlanta, and
the fortunes of the Confederacy in the West, upon the hazard of one
desperate fight. We watched the summoning up of every Rebel energy for
the blow with apprehension. We dreaded another Chickamauga.
The blow fell on the 22d of July. It was well planned. The Army of
the Tennessee, the left of Sherman’s forces, was the part struck.
On the night of the 21st Hood marched a heavy force around its left
flank and gained its rear. On the 22d this force fell on the rear with
the impetuous violence of a cyclone, while the Rebels in the works
immediately around Atlanta attacked furiously in front.
It was an ordeal that no other army ever passed through successfully.
The steadiest troops in Europe would think it foolhardiness to attempt
to withstand an assault in force in front and rear at the same time.
The finest legions that follow any flag to-day must almost inevitably
succumb to such a mode of attack. But the seasoned veterans of the
Army of the Tennessee encountered the shock with an obstinacy which
showed that the finest material for soldiery this planet holds was that
in which undaunted hearts beat beneath blue blouses. Springing over
the front of their breastworks, they drove back with a withering fire
the force assailing them in the rear. This beaten off, they jumped
back to their proper places, and repulsed the assault in front. This
was the way the battle was waged until night compelled a cessation of
operations. Our boys were alternately behind the breastworks firing at
Rebels advancing upon the front, and in front of the works firing upon
those coming up in the rear. Sometimes part of our line would be on one
side of the works, and part on the other.
In the prison we were greatly excited over the result of the
engagement, of which we were uncertain for many days. A host of new
prisoners perhaps two thousand--was brought in from there, but as they
were captured during the progress of the fight, they could not speak
definitely as to its issue. The Rebel papers exulted without stint
over what they termed “a glorious victory.” They were particularly
jubilant over the death of McPherson, who, they claimed, was the brain
and guiding hand of Sherman’s army. One paper likened him to the
pilot-fish, which guides the shark to his prey. Now that he was gone,
said the paper, Sherman’s army becomes a great lumbering hulk, with no
one in it capable of directing it, and it must soon fall to utter ruin
under the skilfully delivered strokes of the gallant Hood.
We also knew that great numbers of wounded had been brought to the
prison hospital, and this seemed to confirm the Rebel claim of a
victory, as it showed they retained possession of the battle field.
About the 1st of August a large squad of Sherman’s men, captured in one
of the engagements subsequent to the 22d, came in. We gathered around
them eagerly. Among them I noticed a bright, curly-haired, blue-eyed
infantryman--or boy, rather, as he was yet beardless. His cap was
marked “68th O. Y. Y. L,” his sleeves were garnished with re-enlistment
stripes, and on the breast of his blouse was a silver arrow. To the
eye of the soldier this said that he was a veteran member of the
Sixty-Eighth Regiment of Ohio Infantry (that is, having already served
three years, he had re-enlisted for the war), and that he belonged
to the Third Division of the Seventeenth Army Corps. He was so young
and fresh looking that one could hardly believe him to be a veteran,
but if his stripes had not said this, the soldierly arrangement of
clothing and accouterments, and the graceful, self-possessed pose of
limbs and body would have told the observer that he was one of those
“Old Reliables” with whom Sherman and Grant had already subdued a third
of the Confederacy. His blanket, which, for a wonder, the Rebels had
neglected to take from him, was tightly rolled, its ends tied together,
and thrown over his shoulder scarf-fashion. His pantaloons were tucked
inside his stocking tops, that were pulled up as far as possible,
and tied tightly around his ankle with a string. A none-too-clean
haversack, containing the inevitable sooty quart cup, and even blacker
half-canteen, waft slung easily from the shoulder opposite to that on
which the blanket rested. Hand him his faithful Springfield rifle, put
three days’ rations in his haversack, and forty rounds in his cartridge
bog, and he would be ready, without an instant’s demur or question,
to march to the ends of the earth, and fight anything that crossed
his path. He was a type of the honest, honorable, self respecting
American boy, who, as a soldier, the world has not equaled in the sixty
centuries that war has been a profession. I suggested to him that he
was rather a youngster to be wearing veteran chevrons. “Yes,” said he,
“I am not so old as some of the rest of the boys, but I have seen about
as much service and been in the business about as long as any of them.
They call me ‘Old Dad,’ I suppose because I was the youngest boy in the
Regiment, when we first entered the service, though our whole Company,
officers and all, were only a lot of boys, and the Regiment to day,
what’s left of ’em, are about as young a lot of officers and men as
there are in the service. Why, our old Colonel ain’t only twenty-four
years old now, and he has been in command ever since we went into
Vicksburg. I have heard it said by our boys that since we veteranized
the whole Regiment, officers, and men, average less than twenty-four
years old. But they are gray-hounds to march and stayers in a fight,
you bet. Why, the rest of the troops over in West Tennessee used to
call our Brigade ‘Leggett’s Cavalry,’ for they always had us chasing
Old Forrest, and we kept him skedaddling, too, pretty lively. But I
tell you we did get into a red hot scrimmage on the 22d. It just laid
over Champion Hills, or any of the big fights around Vicksburg, and
they were lively enough to amuse any one.”
“So you were in the affair on the 22d, were you! We are awful anxious
to hear all about it. Come over here to my quarters and tell us all you
know. All we know is that there has been a big fight, with McPherson
killed, and a heavy loss of life besides, and the Rebels claim a great
victory.”
“O, they be -----. It was the sickest victory they ever got. About one
more victory of that kind would make their infernal old Confederacy
ready for a coroner’s inquest. Well, I can tell you pretty much all
about that fight, for I reckon if the truth was known, our regiment
fired about the first and last shot that opened and closed the fighting
on that day. Well, you see the whole Army got across the river, and
were closing in around the City of Atlanta. Our Corps, the Seventeenth,
was the extreme left of the army, and were moving up toward the City
from the East. The Fifteenth (Logan’s) Corps joined us on the right,
then the Army of the Cumberland further to the right. We run onto the
Rebs about sundown the 21st. They had some breastworks on a ridge in
front of us, and we had a pretty sharp fight before we drove them
off. We went right to work, and kept at it all night in changing and
strengthening the old Rebel barricades, fronting them towards Atlanta,
and by morning had some good solid works along our whole line. During
the night we fancied we could hear wagons or artillery moving away in
front of us, apparently going South, or towards our left. About three
or four o’clock in the morning, while I was shoveling dirt like a
beaver out on the works, the Lieutenant came to me and said the Colonel
wanted to see me, pointing to a large tree in the rear, where I could
find him. I reported and found him with General Leggett, who commanded
our Division, talking mighty serious, and Bob Wheeler, of F Company,
standing there with his Springfield at a parade rest. As soon as I came
up, the Colonel says:
“Boys, the General wants two level-headed chaps to go out beyond the
pickets to the front and toward the left. I have selected you for the
duty. Go as quietly as possible and as fast as you can; keep your eyes
and ears open; don’t fire a shot if you can help it, and come back and
tell us exactly what you have seen and heard, and not what you imagine
or suspect. I have selected you for the duty.’
“He gave us the countersign, and off we started over the breastworks
and through the thick woods. We soon came to our skirmish or pickets,
only a few rods in front of our works, and cautioned them not to fire
on us in going or returning. We went out as much as half a mile or
more, until we could plainly hear the sound of wagons and artillery.
We then cautiously crept forward until we could see the main road
leading south from the City filled with marching men, artillery and
teams. We could hear the commands of the officers and see the flags
and banners of regiment after regiment as they passed us. We got back
quietly and quickly, passed through our picket line all right, and
found the General and our Colonel sitting on a log where we had left
them, waiting for us. We reported what we had seen and heard, and
gave it as our opinion that the Johnnies were evacuating Atlanta. The
General shook his head, and the Colonel says: ‘You may return to your
company.’ Bob says to me:
“‘The old General shakes his head as though he thought them d---d Rebs
ain’t evacuating Atlanta so mighty sudden, but are up to some devilment
again. I ain’t sure but he’s right. They ain’t going to keep falling
back and falling back to all eternity, but are just agoin’ to give us
a rip-roaring great big fight one o’ these days--when they get a good
ready. You hear me!’
“Saying which we both went to our companies, and laid down to get a
little sleep. It was about daylight then, and I must have snoozed
away until near noon, when I heard the order ‘fall in!’ and found the
regiment getting into line, and the boys all tallying about going right
into Atlanta; that the Rebels had evacuated the City during the night,
and that we were going to have a race with the Fifteenth Corps as to
which would get into the City first. We could look away out across a
large field in front of our works, and see the skirmish line advancing
steadily towards the main works around the City. Not a shot was being,
fired on either side.
“To our surprise, instead of marching to the front and toward the
City, we filed off into a small road cut through the woods and marched
rapidly to the rear. We could not understand what it meant. We marched
at quick time, feeling pretty mad that we had to go to the rear, when
the rest of our Division were going into Atlanta.
“We passed the Sixteenth Corps lying on their arms, back in some open
fields, and the wagon trains of our Corps all comfortably corralled,
and finally found ourselves out by the Seventeenth Corps headquarters.
Two or three companies were sent out to picket several roads that
seemed to cross at that point, as it was reported ‘Rebel Cavalry’ had
been seen on these roads but a short time before, and this accounted
for our being rushed out in such a great hurry.
“We had just stacked arms and were going to take a little rest after
our rapid march, when several Rebel prisoners were brought in by some
of the boys who had straggled a little. They found the Rebels on the
road we had just marched out on. Up to this time not a shot had been
fired. All was quiet back at the main works we had just left, when
suddenly we saw several staff officers come tearing up to the Colonel,
who ordered us to ‘fall in!’ ‘Take aims!’ ‘about, face!’ The Lieutenant
Colonel dashed down one of the roads where one of the companies had
gone out on picket. The Major and Adjutant galloped down the others. We
did not wait for them to come back, though, but moved right back on the
road we had just come out, in line of battle, our colors in the road,
and our flanks in open timber. We soon reached a fence enclosing a
large field, and there could see a line of Rebels moving by the flank,
and forming, facing toward Atlanta, but to the left and in the rear of
the position occupied by our Corps. As soon as we reached the fence we
fired a round or two into the backs of these gray coats, who broke into
confusion.
“Just then the other companies joined us, and we moved off on ‘double
quick by the right flank,’ for you see we were completely cut off from
the troops up at the front, and we had to get well over to the right
to get around the flank of the Rebels. Just about the time we fired on
the rebels the Sixteenth Corps opened up a hot fire of musketry and
artillery on them, some of their shot coming over mighty close to where
we were. We marched pretty fast, and finally turned in through some
open fields to the left, and came out just in the rear of the Sixteenth
Corps, who were fighting like devils along their whole line.
“Just as we came out into the open field we saw General R. K. Scott,
who used to be our Colonel, and who commanded our brigade, come
tearing toward us with one or two aids or orderlies. He was on his
big clay-bank horse, ‘Old Hatchie,’ as we called him, as we captured
him on the battlefield at the battle of ‘Matamora,’ or ‘Hell on the
Hatchie,’ as our boys always called it. He rode up to the Colonel, said
something hastily, when all at once we heard the all-firedest crash of
musketry and artillery way up at the front where we had built the works
the night before and left the rest of our brigade and Division getting
ready to prance into Atlanta when we were sent off to the rear. Scott
put spurs to his old horse, who was one of the fastest runners in our
Division, and away he went back towards the position where his brigade
and the troops immediately to their left were now hotly engaged. He
rode right along in rear of the Sixteenth Corps, paying no attention
apparently to the shot and shell and bullets that were tearing up
the earth and exploding and striking all around him. His aids and
orderlies vainly tried to keep up with him. We could plainly see the
Rebel lines as they came out of the woods into the open grounds to
attack the Sixteenth Corps, which had hastily formed in the open field,
without any signs of works, and were standing up like men, having a
hand-to-hand fight. We were just far enough in the rear so that every
blasted shot or shell that was fired too high to hit the ranks of the
Sixteenth Corps came rattling over amongst us. All this time we were
marching fast, following in the direction General Scott had taken, who
evidently had ordered the Colonel to join his brigade up at the front.
We were down under the crest of a little hill, following along the bank
of a little creek, keeping under cover of the bank as much as possible
to protect us from the shots of the enemy. We suddenly saw General
Logan and one or two of his staff upon the right bank of the ravine
riding rapidly toward us. As he neared the head of the regiment he
shouted:
“‘Halt! What regiment is that, and where are you going?’” The Colonel,
in a loud voice, that all could hear, told him: “The Sixty-Eighth Ohio;
going to join our brigade of the Third Division--your old Division,
General, of the Seventeenth Corps.”
“Logan says, ‘you had better go right in here on the left of Dodge. The
Third Division have hardly ground enough left now to bury their dead.
God knows they need you. But try it on, if you think you can get to
them.’
“Just at this moment a staff officer came riding up on the opposite
side of the ravine from where Logan was and interrupted Logan, who was
about telling the Colonel not to try to go to the position held by the
Third Division by the road cut through the woods whence we had come
out, but to keep off to the right towards the Fifteenth Corps, as the
woods referred to were full of Rebels. The officer saluted Logan, and
shouted across:
“General Sherman directs me to inform you of the death of General
McPherson, and orders you to take command of the Army of the Tennessee;
have Dodge close well up to the Seventeenth Corps, and Sherman will
reinforce you to the extent of the whole army.’
“Logan, standing in his stirrups, on his beautiful black horse, formed
a picture against the blue sky as we looked up the ravine at him, his
black eyes fairly blazing and his long black hair waving in the wind.
He replied in a ringing, clear tone that we all could hear:
“Say to General Sherman I have heard of McPherson’s death, and have
assumed the command of the Army of the Tennessee, and have already
anticipated his orders in regard to closing the gap between Dodge and
the Seventeenth Corps.’
“This, of course, all happened in one quarter of the time I have been
telling you. Logan put spurs to his horse and rode in one direction,
the staff officer of General Sherman in another, and we started on
a rapid step toward the front. This was the first we had heard of
McPherson’s death, and it made us feel very bad. Some of the officers
and men cried as though they had lost a brother; others pressed their
lips, gritted their teeth, and swore to avenge his death. He was a
great favorite with all his Army, particularly of our Corps, which he
commanded for a long while. Our company, especially, knew him well,
and loved him dearly, for we had been his Headquarters Guard for over
a year. As we marched along, toward the front, we could see brigades,
and regiments, and batteries of artillery; coming over from the right
of the Army, and taking position in new lines in rear of the Sixteenth
and Seventeenth Corps. Major Generals and their staffs, Brigadier
Generals and their staffs, were mighty thick along the banks of the
little ravine we were following; stragglers and wounded men by the
hundred were pouring in to the safe shelter formed by the broken ground
along which we were rapidly marching; stories were heard of divisions,
brigades and regiments that these wounded or stragglers belonged,
having been all cut to pieces; officers all killed; and the speaker,
the only one of his command not killed, wounded or captured. But you
boys have heard and seen the same cowardly sneaks, probably, in fights
that you were in. The battle raged furiously all this time; part of the
time the Sixteenth Corps seemed to be in the worst; then it would let
up on them and the Seventeenth Corps would be hotly engaged along their
whole front.
“We had probably marched half an hour since leaving Logan, and were
getting pretty near back to our main line of works, when the Colonel
ordered a halt and knapsacks to be unslung and piled up. I tell you it
was a relief to get them off, for it was a fearful hot day, and we had
been marching almost double quick. We knew that this meant business
though, and that we were stripping for the fight, which we would soon
be in. Just at this moment we saw an ambulance, with the horses on a
dead run, followed by two or three mounted officers and men, coming
right towards us out of the very woods Logan had cautioned the Colonel
to avoid. When the ambulance got to where we were it halted. It was
pretty well out of danger from the bullets and shell of the enemy.
They stopped, and we recognized Major Strong, of McPherson’s Staff,
whom the all knew, as he was the Chief Inspector of our Corps, and
in the ambulance he had the body of General McPherson. Major Strong,
it appears, during a slight lull in the fighting at that part of the
line, having taken an ambulance and driven into the very jaws of death
to recover the remains of his loved commander. It seems he found the
body right by the side of the little road that we had gone out on when
we went to the rear. He was dead when he found him, having been shot
off his horse, the bullet striking him in the back, just below his
heart, probably killing him instantly. There was a young fellow with
him who was wounded also, when Strong found them. He belonged to our
First Division, and recognized General McPherson, and stood by him
until Major Strong came up. He was in the ambulance with the body of
McPherson when they stopped by us.
“It seems that when the fight opened away back in the rear where we
had been, and at the left of the Sixteenth Corps which was almost
directly in the rear of the Seventeenth Corps, McPherson sent his
staff and orderlies with various orders to different parts of the
line, and started himself to ride over from the Seventeenth Corps to
the Sixteenth Corps, taking exactly the same course our Regiment had,
perhaps an hour before, but the Rebels had discovered there was a gap
between the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps, and meeting no opposition
to their advances in this strip of woods, where they were hidden from
view, they had marched right along down in the rear, and with their
line at right angles with the line of works occupied by the left of
the Seventeenth Corps; they were thus parallel and close to the little
road McPherson had taken, and probably he rode right into them and was
killed before he realized the true situation.
“Having piled our knapsacks, and left a couple of our older men, who
were played out with the heat and most ready to drop with sunstroke, to
guard them, we started on again. The ambulance with the corpse of Gen.
McPherson moved off towards the right of the Army, which was the last
we ever saw of that brave and handsome soldier.
“We bore off a little to the right of a large open field on top of a
high hill where one of our batteries was pounding away at a tremendous
rate. We came up to the main line of works just about at the left of
the Fifteenth Corps. They seemed to be having an easy time of it just
then --no fighting going on in their front, except occasional shots
from some heavy guns on the main line of Rebel works around the City.
We crossed right over the Fifteenth Corps’ works and filed to the left,
keeping along on the outside of our works. We had not gone far before
the Rebel gunners in the main works around the City discovered us; and
the way they did tear loose at us was a caution. Their aim was rather
bad, however, and most of their shots went over us. We saw one of
them--I think it was a shell--strike an artillery caisson belonging to
one of our-batteries. It exploded as it struck, and then the caisson,
which was full of ammunition, exploded with an awful noise, throwing
pieces of wood and iron and its own load of shot and shell high into
the air, scattering death and destruction to the men and horses
attached to it. We thought we saw arms and legs and parts of bodies of
men flying in every direction; but we were glad to learn afterwards
that it was the contents of the knapsacks of the Battery boys, who had
strapped them on the caissons for transportation.
“Just after passing the hill where our battery was making things so
lively, they stopped firing to let us pass. We saw General Leggett,
our Division Commander, come riding toward us. He was outside of our
line of works, too. You know how we build breastworks--sort of zigzag
like, you know, so they cannot be enfiladed. Well, that’s just the way
the works were along there, and you never saw such a curious shape
as we formed our Division in. Why, part of them were on one side of
the works, and go along a little further and here was a regiment, or
part of a regiment on the other side, both sets firing in opposite
directions.
“No sir’ee, they were not demoralized or in confusion, they were cool
and as steady as on parade. But the old Division had, you know, never
been driven from any position they had once taken, in all their long
service, and they did not propose to leave that ridge until they got
orders from some one beside the Rebs.
“There were times when a fellow did not know which side of the works
was the safest, for the Johnnies were in front of us and in rear of us.
You see, our Fourth Division, which had been to the left of us, had
been forced to quit their works, when the Rebs got into the works in
their rear, so that our Division was now at the point where our line
turned sharply to the left, and rear--in the direction of the Sixteenth
Corps.
“We got into business before we had been there over three minutes. A
line of the Rebs tried to charge across the open fields in front of
us, but by the help of the old twenty-four pounders (which proved to
be part of Cooper’s Illinois Battery, that we had been alongside of in
many a hard fight before), we drove them back a-flying, only to have to
jump over on the outside of our works the next minute to tackle a heavy
force that came for our rear through that blasted strip of woods. We
soon drove them off, and the firing on both sides seemed to have pretty
much stopped.
“‘Our Brigade,’ which we discovered, was now commanded by ‘Old
Whiskers’ (Colonel Piles, of the Seventy-Eighth Ohio. I’ll bet he’s
got the longest whiskers of any man in the Army.) You see General
Scott had not been seen or heard of since he had started to the rear
after our regiment when the fighting first commenced. We all believed
that he was either killed or captured, or he would have been with his
command. He was a splendid soldier, and a bull-dog of a fighter. His
absence was a great loss, but we had not much time to think of such
things, for our brigade was then ordered to leave the works and to move
to the right about twenty or thirty rods across a large ravine, where
we were placed in position in an open corn-field, forming a new line
at quite an angle from the line of works we had just left, extending
to the left, and getting us back nearer onto a line with the Sixteenth
Corps. The battery of howitzers, now reinforced by a part of the Third
Ohio heavy guns, still occupied the old works on the highest part of
the hill, just to the right of our new line. We took our position just
on the brow of a hill, and were ordered to lie down, and the rear rank
to go for rails, which we discovered a few rods behind us in the shape
of a good ten-rail fence. Every rear-rank chap came back with all the
rails he could lug, and we barely had time to lay them down in front
of us, forming a little barricade of six to eight or ten inches high,
when we heard the most unearthly Rebel yell directly in front of us.
It grew louder and came nearer and nearer, until we could see a solid
line of the gray coats coming out of the woods and down the opposite
slope, their battle flags flying, officers in front with drawn swords,
arms at right shoulder, and every one of them yelling like so many
Sioux Indians. The line seemed to be massed six or eight ranks deep,
followed closely by the second line, and that by the third, each, if
possible, yelling louder and appearing more desperately reckless than
the one ahead. At their first appearance we opened on them, and so did
the bully old twenty-four-pounders, with canister.
“On they came; the first line staggered and wavered back on to the
second, which was coming on the double quick. Such a raking as we did
give them. Oh, Lordy, how we did wish that we had the breech loading
Spencers or Winchesters. But we had the old reliable Springfields,
and we poured it in hot and heavy. By the time the charging column
got down the opposite slope, and were struggling through the thicket
of undergrowth in the ravine, they were one confused mass of officers
and men, the three lines now forming one solid column, which made
several desperate efforts to rush up to the top of the hill where we
were punishing them so. One of their first surges came mighty near
going right over the left of our Regiment, as they were lying down
behind their little rail piles. But the boys clubbed their guns and the
officers used their revolvers and swords and drove them back down the
hill.
“The Seventy-Eighth and Twentieth Ohio, our right and left bowers, who
had been brigaded with us ever since ‘Shiloh,’ were into it as hot and
heavy as we had been, and had lost numbers of their officers and men,
but were hanging on to their little rail piles when the fight was over.
At one time the Rebs were right in on top of the Seventy-Eighth. One
big Reb grabbed their colors, and tried to pull them out of the hands
of the color-bearer. But old Captain Orr, a little, short, dried-up
fellow, about sixty years old, struck him with his sword across the
back of the neck, and killed him deader than a mackerel, right in his
tracks.
“It was now getting dark, and the Johnnies concluded they had taken a
bigger contract in trying to drive us off that hill in one day than
they had counted on, so they quit charging on us, but drew back under
cover of the woods and along the old line of works that we had left,
and kept up a pecking away and sharp-shooting at us all night long.
They opened fire on us from a number of pieces of artillery from the
front, from the left, and from some heavy guns away over to the right
of us, in the main works around Atlanta.
“We did not fool away much time that night, either. We got our shovels
and picks, and while part of us were sharpshooting and trying to keep
the Rebels from working up too close to us, the rest of the boys were
putting up some good solid earthworks right where our rail piles had
been, and by morning we were in splendid shape to have received our
friends, no matter which way they had come at us, for they kept up such
an all-fired shelling of us from so many different directions; that the
boys had built traverses and bomb-proofs at all sorts of angles and in
all directions.
“There was one point off to our right, a few rods up along our old line
of works where there was a crowd of Rebel sharpshooters that annoyed
us more than all the rest, by their constant firing at us through the
night. They killed one of Company H’s boys, and wounded several others.
Finally Captain Williams, of D Company, came along and said he wanted
a couple of good shots out of our company to go with him, so I went
for one. He took about ten of us, and we crawled down into the ravine
in front of where we were building the works, and got behind a large
fallen tree, and we laid there and could just fire right up into the
rear of those fellows as they lay behind a traverse extending back
from our old line of works. It was so dark we could only see where to
fire by the flash of guns, but every time they would shoot, some of us
would let them have one. They staid there until almost daylight, when
they, concluded as things looked, since we were going to stay, they had
better be going.
“It was an awful night. Down in the ravine below us lay hundreds of
killed and wounded Rebels, groaning and crying aloud for water and for
help. We did do what we could for those right around us--but it was
so dark, and so many shell bursting and bullets flying around that a
fellow could not get about much. I tell you it was pretty tough next
morning to go along to the different companies of our regiment and
hear who were among the killed and wounded, and to see the long row
of graves that were being dug to bury our comrades and our officers.
There was the Captain of Company E, Nelson Skeeles, of Fulton County,
O., one of--the bravest and best officers in the regiment. By his
side lay First Sergeant Lesnit, and next were the two great, powerful
Shepherds--cousins but more like brothers. One, it seems, was killed
while supporting the head of the other, who had just received a death
wound, thus dying in each other’s arms.
“But I can’t begin to think or tell you the names of all the poor boys
that we laid away to rest in their last, long sleep on that gloomy day.
Our Major was severely wounded, and several other officers had been hit
more or less badly.
“It was a frightful sight, though, to go over the field in front of
our works on that morning. The Rebel dead and badly wounded laid where
they had fallen. The bottom and opposite side of the ravine showed
how destructive our fire and that of the canister from the howitzers
had been. The underbrush was cut, slashed, and torn into shreds, and
the larger trees were scarred, bruised and broken by the thousands of
bullets and other missiles that had been poured into them from almost
every conceivable direction during the day before.
“A lot of us boys went way over to the left into Fuller’s Division of
the Sixteenth Corps, to see how some of our boys over there had got
through the scrimmage, for they had about as nasty a fight as any part
of the Army, and if it had not been for their being just where they
were, I am not sure but what the old Seventeenth Corps would have had
a different story to tell now. We found our friends had been way out
by Decatur, where their brigade had got into a pretty lively fight on
their own hook.
“We got back to camp, and the first thing I knew I was detailed for
picket duty, and we were posted over a few rods across the ravine in
our front. We had not been out but a short time when we saw a flag
of truce, borne by an officer, coming towards us. We halted him, and
made him wait until a report was sent back to Corps headquarters. The
Rebel officer was quite chatty and talkative with our picket officer,
while waiting. He said he was on General Cleburne’s staff, and that the
troops that charged us so fiercely the evening before was Cleburne’s
whole Division, and that after their last repulse, knowing the hill
where we were posted was the most important position along our line,
he felt that if they would keep close to us during the night, and keep
up a show of fight, that we would pull out and abandon the hill before
morning. He said that he, with about fifty of their best men, had
volunteered to keep up the demonstration, and it was his party that had
occupied the traverse in our old works the night before and had annoyed
us and the Battery men by their constant sharpshooting, which we
fellows behind the old tree had finally tired out. He said they staid
until almost daylight, and that he lost more than half his men before
he left. He also told us that General Scott was captured by their
Division, at about the time and almost the same spot as where General
McPherson was killed, and that he was not hurt or wounded, and was now
a prisoner in their hands.
“Quite a lot of our staff officers soon came out, and as near as we
could learn the Rebels wanted a truce to bury their dead. Our folks
tried to get up an exchange of prisoners that had been taken by both
sides the day before, but for some reason they could not bring it
about. But the truce for burying the dead was agreed to. Along about
dusk some of the boys on my post got to telling about a lot of silver
and brass instruments that belonged to one of the bands of the Fourth
Division, which had been hung up in some small trees a little way over
in front of where we were when the fight was going on the day before,
and that when, a bullet would strike one of the horns they could hear
it go ‘pin-g’ and in a few minutes ‘pan-g’ would go another bullet
through one of them.
“A new picket was just coming’ on, and I had picked up my blanket and
haversack, and was about ready to start back to camp, when, thinks I,
‘I’ll just go out there and see about them horns.’ I told the boys what
I was going to do. They all seemed to think it was safe enough, so out
I started. I had not gone more than a hundred yards, I should think,
when here I found the horns all hanging around on the trees just as the
boys had described. Some of them had lots of bullet holes in them. But
I saw a beautiful, nice looking silver bugle hanging off to one side a
little. ‘I Thinks,’ says I, ‘I’ll just take that little toot horn in
out of the wet, and take it back to camp.’ I was just reaching up after
it when I heard some one say,
“‘Halt!’ and I’ll be dog-Boned if there wasn’t two of the meanest
looking Rebels, standing not ten feet from me, with their guns cocked
and pointed at me, and, of course, I knew I was a goner; they walked me
back about one hundred and fifty yards, where their picket line was.
From there I was kept going for an hour or two until we got over to
a place on the railroad called East Point. There I got in with a big
crowd of our prisoners, who were taken the day before, and we have been
fooling along in a lot of old cattle cars getting down here ever since.
“So this is ‘Andersonville,’ is it! Well, by ----!”