A New Expedition—Its Wise Design—Cause of its Failure in the
Main Purpose—The Hero of Vicksburg is created
Lieutenant-General—The New Order of Things—Two Grand Lines of
March and of Conquest—From Chattanooga to Kenesaw Mountain.
THE holidays of the season which introduced the year 1863 had scarcely
passed, and your gifts of affection, young reader, were still in your
hands, or in a snug corner of your home, when the untiring chief, who
was and is defending that home from the hosts of rebellion, was planning
a grand expedition into Central Mississippi.
The map will show you the town of Meridian, where important railroads
have their junction, more than a hundred miles from Vicksburg. To this
centre of the empire, claimed by the usurper Davis, around which lay the
richest corn and cotton fields of the South, and swarmed the toiling
slaves, General Sherman determined to lead his battalions. You must
recollect, he would have to cut loose from his “base of supplies,” and,
with a long wagon-train carrying rations for twenty days, conduct his
“movable column”—that is, the entire army in motion, and with no
communications open—over the enemy’s country, where well-disciplined
troops were not very far from his path. It was a most daring adventure,
but just like the brave commander who conceived it. Comprehending the
gigantic revolt, and the vital points in the Confederacy, he has had but
one view of the means to suppress the infamous rebellion. Had his plan
been adopted, the war might have been ended now. Large armies, bold and
rapid movements into the home of secession, sparing nothing that affords
it any nourishment, has been the war-creed of General Sherman. February
found the campaign complete in preparation. On the 3d the commander left
the streets of Vicksburg, reining his steed toward Meridian.
Two days before, General W. S. Smith was to leave Memphis, Tenn., with
eight thousand cavalry, and join him at Meridian. The course of march
was in part along the track in which the troops advanced on Vicksburg.
The cavalcade of twenty thousand men, followed by miles of
supply-wagons, crossed the Big Black River, moved along by Champion
Hills and Clinton to Jackson. Here General McPherson, with the Sixteenth
Corps, and General Hurlbut, with the Seventeenth Corps, who had taken
different routes, met General Sherman, and were united to his army.
The rebels did not seem to care about fighting the daring chieftain, but
retreated before him. At Line Creek resistance was offered, a short
battle followed, and again the host moved forward, taking the towns of
Quitman and Enterprise, on every hand spreading alarm.
February 13th he reached the Big Chunkey River. Meridian was the next
point to be gained, when, with all his forces, he could push on, getting
between General Johnston and Mobile, where Commodore Farragut was
thundering with his naval ordnance, and perhaps interfere very much with
General Polk’s army. Meanwhile, military depots would disappear before
the torch, and other havoc with supplies distract and cripple the foe.
With such successes, it would not be difficult to hasten over the
intervening ground, and hurl his legions against the city from the land
side, thus finishing the work Commodore Farragut had so well commenced.
At Meridian, February 13th, 150 miles from Vicksburg, he congratulated
his troops in these words:
“The General Commanding conveys his congratulations and thanks to the
officers and men composing this command, for their most successful
accomplishment of one of the great problems of the war. Meridian, the
great railway centre of the Southwest, is now in our possession, and, by
industry and hard work, can be rendered useless to the enemy, and
deprive him of the chief source of supply to his armies. Secrecy in plan
and rapidity of execution accomplish the best results of war; and the
General Commanding assures all that, by following their leaders
fearlessly and with confidence, they will in time reap the reward so
dear to us all—a peace that will never again be disturbed in our
country by a discontented minority.”
But as General Grant’s delay at Holly Springs, on account of its
cowardly surrender, turned the first attack upon Vicksburg into a
defeat, so by the failure of General Smith to start from Memphis till
the 13th of February, the further success of the expedition was made
impossible. Still, the affair was a magnificent raid into the heart of
“rebeldom,” which spread terror along its way, and left the ruins of
railroads, bridges, and storehouses behind, while securing animals and
various material for the use of the Union army.
The great commander was now compelled to turn his column toward
Vicksburg again, which he entered three weeks after his departure,
having led his troops safely across hostile soil more than two hundred
and fifty miles, surrounded by large armies. March 2d, General Sherman
reached New Orleans in the gunboat _Diana_, and when referring to his
expedition, termed it “a big raid only.” Before he had rested his heroic
men, a law which had been before Congress while he was marching, was
passed, creating the office of Lieutenant-General, the President
conferring the honor of it upon Major-General Grant. The same order of
March 12th gave to General Sherman the command before held by the hero
of Vicksburg, called the Department of the Mississippi, and including
the smaller departments of the Ohio, the Cumberland, and the Tennessee,
with the Arkansas. Around him were to stand Generals McPherson, Hooker,
Thomas, Hurlbut, Logan, Schofield, and Howard, the “Havelock of the
army.”
The grandest and most decisive campaigns of the war were now planned.
The Army of the Potomac, commanded by General Meade, was again to start
for Richmond, under the eyes of the Lieutenant-General; and the
divisions of General Sherman were to take Atlanta, the former the “head,
the latter the heart of the Confederacy.”
It was a sublime crisis in the struggle. The two great heroes of the
conflict had in their hands enterprises worthy of their genius, and
which would hold the interest of the nation and of the world. For if
either of the bold movements succeeded, the other it would seem must,
because beyond the single victory were the vast results of the
cöoperating armies on the coast, from the mouth of the James River to
Savannah. Immediately upon receiving the notice of his appointment, in
the middle of March, General Sherman began a tour of inspection,
visiting Athens, Decatur, Huntsville, Chattanooga, Knoxville, and other
places of military importance, carefully acquainting himself with the
extent and resources of the new field of his command. From reports
published, it is believed that on the 1st day of May the effective
strength of the several armies, for offensive purposes, was about as
follows:
_Army of the Cumberland, Major-General Thomas Commanding._
Infantry 54,568
Artillery 2,377
Cavalry 3,828
———
Total 60,773
Guns 130
_Army of the Tennessee, Major-General McPherson Commanding._
Infantry 22,437
Artillery 1,404
Cavalry 624
———
Total 24,465
Guns 96
_Army of the Ohio, Major-General Schofield Commanding._
Infantry 11,183
Artillery 679
Cavalry 1,679
———
Total 13,541
Guns 28
Grand aggregate number of troops, 98,779; guns, 254.
About these figures were maintained during the campaign, the number of
men joining from furlough and hospitals about compensating for the loss
in battle and from sickness. These armies were grouped on the morning of
May 6th, as follows: That of the Cumberland at and near Ringgold; that
of the Tennessee at Gordon’s Mill, on the Chickamauga; and that of the
Ohio near Red Clay, on the Georgia line, north of Dalton.
A reference to the map again will show you Dalton on the railroad
between Chattanooga and Atlanta, with Ringgold northwest of it. A
distinguished general of the army describes the advance:
“Marching from Chattanooga on the 5th of May, and from Ringgold on the
7th, he first encountered Johnston at Tunnel Hill, a strong position,
but which was used by him merely as an outpost to his still stronger one
of ‘Buzzard Roost.’ This latter is a narrow gorge or pass in the
Chatoogata Mountains, flanked on one side by the precipitous sides of
Rocky Face Ridge (not unlike the Palisades of the Hudson River) and on
the other by the greater but less precipitous elevation called John’s
Mountain. This gorge was commanded on the Dalton side by an amphitheatre
of hills, which, as well as the tops of Rocky Face and John’s Mountain,
was crowned by batteries, lined with infantry, and terraced by
sharpshooters. The railroad and wagon-road wind through the gorge, which
is absolutely the only passage through the mountains at this place.
Taking a leaf from the book of his Yorktown experience, Johnston had
skilfully flooded the entrance to the gorge by damming a neighboring
mountain-stream, and covering both railroad and wagon-road with water to
the depth in some places of eight to ten feet. It is scarcely possible
to conceive a stronger defensive position, and the rebels had been
induced to believe that it was unassailable.”
The pass, which doubtless received its name from a large bird common at
the south, was made impassable by abatis, and piles driven down filling
the defile, and the whole overflowed by the waters of Mill Creek. Two
days’ reconnoissance and sharp skirmishing proved to General Sherman
that an attack in front would cost too great a sacrifice of life, and
that the pass must be turned. The means for this were found in a gap
called Snake Creek Gap, some fifteen miles to the southwest. The thick
dark forest, by its concealment, would protect the march. Rising almost
perpendicularly are the flinty sides of Rocky Face, on the other side of
which stands Oak Knob. Into this wild and romantic seclusion our army
pushed its front, while the rebels lurked in the heights around and
above the Union “boys.”
General Morgan, whose command was there, relates, that “a corporal of
Company I, Sixtieth Illinois, broke from the line, and under the cover
of projecting ledges got up within twenty feet of a squad of rebels on
the summit. Taking shelter from the sharpshooters, he called out:
“‘I say, rebs, don’t you want to hear Old Abe’s amnesty proclamation
read?’
“‘Yes! yes!’ was the unanimous cry, ‘give us the ape’s proclamation.’
“‘Attention!’ commanded the corporal, and in a clear and resonant voice
he read the amnesty proclamation to the rebels, beneath the cannon
planted by rebel hands to destroy the fabric of Government established
by our fathers. When he arrived at those passages of the proclamation
where the negro was referred to, he was interrupted by cries of ‘None of
your Abolitionism; look out for rocks!’ And down over his hiding-place
descended a shower of stones and rocks. Having finished the reading, the
corporal asked:
“‘Well, rebs, how do you like the terms? Will you hear it again?’
“‘Not to-day, you bloody Yank. Now crawl down in a hurry and we won’t
fire,’ was the response; and the daring corporal descended and rejoined
his command, which had distinctly heard all that passed. I regret I
could not learn the name of the corporal, for he must get promotion at
the hands of Father Abraham and Governor Dick Yates.”
Another incident of army life at this crisis of the campaign will
interest you: While on Rocky Face General Howard stood upon a ledge of
rocks from which he could see a large force of rebels upon a projecting
spur of the ridge immediately beneath him. Tired of gazing upon the
enemy, the General, in the absence of hand grenades, lighted the fuse of
shells, and amused himself by dropping them down into the centre of the
enemy, in whose ranks there was quite a lively commotion in consequence.
The frightened enemy little suspected that the hand that dropped the
shells into their ranks was the companion of the one lost at Fair Oaks
by the fearless leader of the Eleventh Army Corps.
The flank movement was led by General McPherson with the Fifteenth and
Sixteenth Corps, and Garrard’s division of cavalry, supported by General
Thomas with the Fourteenth and Twentieth Corps, while Generals Howard
and Schofield, with the Fourth, Twenty-third, and Stoneman’s division of
cavalry, “amused the enemy in front.” Suddenly General Johnston waked up
from his dream of security, and hastily abandoning his stronghold fell
back upon a new position to save his communications, which were around
the town of Resaca, almost due south from Chattanooga, and distant from
it by railroad fifty-six miles. It is situated in Gordon County,
Georgia, on the north bank of the Coosawattee River, which flows
southwest, changing its name to the Oostalantee, and joins Etowah at
Rome, the two forming the Coosa, which, joining the Tallapoosa, forms
the Alabama, and flows into the Gulf at Mobile.
The railroad bridge at Resaca, destroyed by the rebels on their retreat,
is one of the most important, perhaps the most important, on the Western
and Atlantic Railway; it is six hundred feet long. The distance from
Resaca to Atlanta is eighty-two miles by rail, and the country much more
favorable for our operations than that from Chattanooga to Resaca.
The rebel general began to learn lessons of caution in the _flanking_
school of General Sherman, and so guarded the extremities of his army
that the latter was compelled to try a direct assault in front. For
three days the sound of battle at intervals echoed among the hills, with
constantly increasing advantage to the vigilant, skilful, and unyielding
Sherman, until he had in his possession commanding hills, with railroads
and bridges in his rear. Eight guns, two flags, large quantities of
stores, and several hundred prisoners, were the trophies of the
hard-earned victories.
The night of the 15th of May the rebel chief, finding himself outwitted
and outflanked, made a hurried retreat. When the morning revealed the
flight of the foe, General Sherman’s army started in pursuit. General
Thomas, second only in splendid achievements and gallantry to his
commander, was “directly on his heels,” while Generals McPherson and
Schofield took different routes. Amusing scenes occasionally lit up the
darkest hours of night and conflict.
During the whole operations of Saturday and Sunday, while forcing
General Johnston from his intrenchments, General Beatty’s brigade, of
Wood’s division, was in reserve. The boys did not relish their position,
and, while the battle raged with great fury, they showed unmistakable
signs of uneasiness. One fellow, more daring than his companions,
quietly sauntered out and made for the front. Meeting a wounded soldier
returning from the front, the “Buckeye” borrowed his “fixins” and
entered Hazen’s brigade, where he fought bravely until shot in the jaw.
Retiring to the rear, he met a staff-officer, who inquired the number of
his regiment, and, learning it was not under fire, asked how he came to
be wounded. “Well,” replied the soldier, “you see I don’t like to be
back in the rear, so I came out to take a shot at the Johnnies, and I be
dogged if they haven’t peppered me.”
At nine on Saturday night the Nineteenth Alabama was lying in line, with
a rebel battery separating it from another regiment. The battery was
withdrawn, and the colonel of the Nineteenth went down to fill the gap
with his regiment; he was accompanied by four hundred men. Arriving at
the gap they found it filled with pickets, who quietly “took them in out
of the wet,” and brought them in. Our boys had crawled up unobserved,
and filled the gap in the enemy’s line, captured Colonel McSpadden and
companions, and retired without receiving a shot. The rebel colonel
himself highly praised the strategy of his captors.
Onward through forest, across streams, and over heights, the nobly proud
and confidant columns pressed toward Atlanta. The song and joke—the
sacred page and prayer—the inexcusable oath—all marked the long
marches, the night encampment, and the morning hour of preparation to
renew the tramp of embattled legions toward the interior of the
Confederate Territory. How sublime the music, rising over that moving
host, which a listener thus describes:
“At early dawn one morning, ere the troops were fully awakened from
their slumbers, the melodious notes of ‘Old Hundred,’ given forth by one
of the brigade bands, rang out upon the air, and were echoed by the
green-capped hills beyond. Soldiers intently occupied in preparing the
morning meal stood still and listened to the melody, and instinctively
joined in it. It flew from regiment to regiment; brigade after brigade
took it up, and, ere the notes of the band ceased to reverberate, five
thousand voices were raised in ‘Praise God from whom all blessings
flow.’ A moment later all was still. Breakfast was taken; and so
silently did the veterans of many battle-fields break camp and fall into
line that everybody remarked it, and complimented them for their
conduct. I have heard ‘Old Hundred’ often, when the lungs of the organ
seemed inspired with life, and a congregation joined their melodious
voices, but never until to-day did I hear it sung with the full
inspiration of the soul.”
May 25th, General Thomas’s troops, with the fearless Hooker in the
advance, were sweeping toward Dallas, when the enemy crossed their path.
The action of New Hope Church came off, leaving the Union colors
streaming victoriously over the exulting volunteers. But there was a
different flag taken from hostile hands. General Stoneman, the splendid
cavalry officer, captured from the Third Texas Cavalry a black flag with
a skeleton figured upon it together with a death’s head and cross-bones.
This flag is no myth or creation of the wild fancy of some terrified
trooper, but a reliable thing now in possession of a surgeon in the
General’s command, and seen and handled by the members of General
Schofield’s staff. They are said to have carried it from the first. What
they expect to have understood by it is easily arrived at from the
remark of a member of another Texas regiment who was taken prisoner and
brought to headquarters. When asked by a member of the staff if he
belonged to the regiment which carried the black flag, he replied that
he did not, else he should not have been brought there. It is, perhaps,
needless to state that our men are reported to have taken no prisoners
from the Third Texas Cavalry.
While the forces were approaching Dallas, occurred one of war’s striking
contrasts, related by a participant in the scenes:
“Last night the enemy kept up a lively demonstration along our whole
line sufficient to interfere slightly with our slumbers at headquarters.
About three o’clock yesterday afternoon Cheney’s First Illinois Battery,
20-pounder Parrott guns, opened a brisk fire upon a strong rebel
fortification, one mile from Dallas, which frowns upon our lines at an
altitude of nearly two hundred feet, and from which a fine view is
easily obtained of our movements. The cannonade was continued till
sunset, shells bursting in all directions, scattering their
death-dealing fragments among loyal and disloyal. The monotony was
relieved by the constant arrival of mounted orderlies bearing their
important despatches of the enemy’s doings from the respective brigade
and division commanders, while the music of the Minié balls, as they
whistled through the trees over our heads, lent enough exhilarating
excitement to the afternoon hours to dispel all thought of drowsiness.
While the musketry rattled quite lively along our lines, causing the
vales to reverberate, and the loud reports of the deadly rifles rang
through the mountain forests, the military bands were discoursing
sentimental and patriotic melodies within sound of the rebel lines.
“So near have our skirmishers advanced to the enemy’s front, that last
night, while a prayer-meeting was being held in the rebel camps, our
troops could hear quite distinctly their appeals to Heaven for peace. I
regret to state that some of the ‘Yankees’ were sacrilegious enough to
interpolate the names of Grant and Sherman, just at the point where the
traitors invoked health and strength to Lee and Johnston. The tone of
their petitions was for peace, which Gen. Sherman is determined they
shall not enjoy until he secures that piece of Georgia which he has
marked out as the reward for his invincible army.”
At this crisis in the march, already among the rivers flowing to the
Gulf, with the iron-works on their banks at different points, General
Sherman issued an order containing directions respecting care of the
wounded, who were to be carried from the field by the musicians and
others not in the ranks; and requiring hospitals to be kept nearer the
moving columns, protecting them by the irregularities on the surface,
and not by distance. Here is what he says of cowards:
“Skulking, shirking, and straggling behind in time of danger, are such
high detestable crimes that the General Commanding would hardly presume
them possible, were it not for his own observation, and the report that
at this moment soldiers are found loafing in the cabins, to the rear, as
far back as Kingston. The only proper fate of such miscreants is that
they be shot, as common enemies to their profession and country; and all
officers and patrols sent back to arrest them, will shoot them without
mercy, on the slightest impudence or resistance. By thus wandering in
the rear they desert their fellows, who expose themselves in battle in
the full faith that all on the rolls are present, and they expose
themselves to capture and exchange as good soldiers, to which they have
no title. It is hereby made the duty of every officer who finds such
skulkers, to deliver them to any provost guard, regardless of corps, to
be employed in menial or hard work, such as repairing roads, digging
drains, sinks, &c. Officers, if found skulking, will be subjected to the
same penalty as enlisted men, viz., instant death, or the hardest labor
and treatment. Absentees not accounted for, should always be mustered as
deserters, to deprive them of their pay and bounties, reserved for
honest soldiers.”
We cannot chronicle all the battles and skirmishes of the “running
fight”—not _from_ the enemy, but after him. The charge upon Allatoona
Pass by the Union cavalry, June 2d, where General Sherman had flanked
General Johnston a week before, was a brilliant display of valor
baptized in blood.
The first week in June had passed, and General Sherman’s troops, after
marching more than a hundred miles since leaving Chattanooga, through a
country unknown to them, daily skirmishing with the watchful foe,
striking against works capable of resisting twice their number of
troops, and all the time without broken ranks, gaining substantial
advantage, now fairly confronted General Johnston intrenched upon Lost
Mountain, Pine Hill, and Kenesaw Mountain, three bold peaks connected
together by a line of ridges, and twenty-six miles north of Atlanta. His
line was closely circumscribed by ours. In no place were the hostile
parallels more than a musket-shot apart. The rebel right rested on
Kenesaw Mountain, on the railroad, four miles north of Marietta, their
left on Lost Mountain, some six miles west of Kenesaw. Between these two
formidable ridges the rebels had gradually been forced back from a
triangle, with the apex toward us, until their line was but a faint
crescent, their centre still being slightly advanced. Right, left, and
centre, their position was closely invested. Our troops shed parallel
after parallel, until the country in their rear was furrowed with
rifle-pits and abatis, and scored with a labyrinth of roads.
“The country is covered with primitive forests, and in very few places
are there cleared spaces sufficiently large to display the movements of
a brigade. There is an abundance of scrubby undergrowth which hides
every thing a few yards distant from view; and when one inspects the
difficulties, it seems hardly credible, though such is the case, that we
fully developed the enemy’s position with two days’ skirmish.”
A brave officer from whose accurate observations passages have already
been taken, says of this halting-place in the great race for Atlanta:
“The ridge in front of Kenesaw commences about Wallace’s House on the
Burnt Hickory and Marietta road, and extends thence across the railroad
behind Noonday Creek about two miles in an east-by-north direction. Lost
Mountain and Kenesaw are about eleven hundred feet high, Pine Hill and
Brushy Hill about four hundred feet high, and the ridges everywhere
about one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet, or about the same as,
and, in fact, not very dissimilar to Missionary Ridge at Chattanooga.
The enemy was everywhere strongly intrenched behind log barricades,
protected by earth thrown against them, with a ditch, formidable abatis,
and in many places a chevaux-de-frise of sharpened fence-rails besides.
Their intrenchments were well protected by thick traverses, and at
frequent intervals arranged with emplacements and embrasures for
field-guns. The thickness of this parapet was generally six to eight
feet _at top_ on the infantry line, and from twelve to fifteen feet
thick at the top, where field-guns were posted or where fire from our
artillery was anticipated. The amount of digging and intrenching that
Johnston’s army had done is almost incredible. General Sherman’s tactics
resulted in wresting Lost Mountain, Pine Hill, the ridge in front of
Kenesaw, and Brushy Hill from the enemy, and forcing back his two wings,
Kenesaw Mountain operating as a sort of hinge, until his left was behind
Olley’s Creek, and his right behind the stream which flows between the
houses named on the map as McAffee and Wiley Roberts. Kenesaw Mountain
then became the projecting fortress of the defensive line, the wings
being turned backward from it. It is a rocky eminence, rather
precipitous, thickly-wooded, and crowned with batteries.
“Our respective lines were about eight or nine miles in length, from six
hundred to seven hundred yards distant from each other, and strongly
intrenched. Skirmishing went on incessantly, and artillery duels
occurred two or three times daily. The enemy at different times made
some dozen or more assaults, sometimes getting within fifty yards of our
intrenchments, but were always repulsed, and generally with heavy loss
to them. To gain certain positions, we opened a heavy artillery fire
upon their whole line, pressed their two flanks heavily, and made
assaults in two places upon their centre. The assaults were
unsuccessful; but the Twenty-third Corps, upon their extreme right,
gained important advantages of position.”
Wrote another: “We fancy out here that the over-expectant loyal public
are disappointed at the seemingly slow progress of our cause in this
department. It is only necessary to state that the immense amount of
supplies required for an army of this size, to be transported a distance
of over two hundred miles through the enemy’s country, with a
single-track railroad, is a gigantic undertaking. As for subsisting upon
the country, that is out of the question, the inhabitants themselves
depending upon the charity of the ‘ruthless invaders’ for daily
sustenance. Forage, ordnance stores, and commissary supplies, must all
flow through this single artery with lightning rapidity, if we would
replenish these stores as fast as exhausted. Nothing but the most
thorough organization and complete system, with great energy in the
various departments, could ever have prevented our troops from suffering
for the want of food and clothing. The public can never appreciate the
innumerable natural obstacles that have embarrassed the operations of
this unflinching army. The truly loyal do not demand any such
explanations as these, for with such leaders as Grant and Sherman
apprehension is groundless; but of late the Copperhead press, not
content with misrepresenting and belittling General Grant’s victorious
advance toward the rebel capital, sneer at General Sherman’s
generalship, and insinuate already, in the face of brilliant successes
achieved, that the ‘On to Atlanta’ movement is a failure.
“Standing upon the martial-crowned top of Pine Mountain, amid the
fluttering of those peculiar flags used by the Signal Corps, we learned
that from this eminence were transmitted, in those mysterious signals,
all the movements of the enemy, and such operations of our army as were
necessary. In front of you stands the defiant, frowning Kenesaw, with
its thick woods concealing the rebel batteries from view that line its
steep sides, while five or six miles west of Kenesaw, Lost Mountain
lifts its sugar-loaf crest to the sky, solitary and alone, looming up
against the gorgeously tinted clouds that deck the heavens. Just before
you, looking south, can be discerned the suburbs of Marietta, with the
Georgia Military Institute standing out prominently in the picture.
Gazing down the steep declivity into the thickly-wooded vales which lie
at the spectator’s feet, a magnificent panorama of natural beauty is
unfurled. So close are the lines of the contending armies, that the
dense volumes of smoke from their camp fires roll up united, but hang in
portentous clouds over friend and foe.
“While wrapt in silent admiration, mixed with a deep sense of awe at the
wild and romantic scene before me, the bands encamped in the valley
which encircles the base of the mountain struck up the ‘John Brown’ or
‘Glory Hallelujah Chorus,’ the echoes of which vibrated, re-echoed, and,
finally, as the sun’s departing rays began to fade from the horizon, its
pathetic notes died away, or mingled with the rattle of musketry which
flashed along our skirmish line. I can never forget the peculiar
impression photographed upon my mind by the swelling of this historical
anthem of Freedom’s first battle, as it grandly sailed over Pine
Mountain. My reverie was soon disturbed by the sudden roar of many
batteries belching out their savage peals with fearful rapidity from
both sides, and for several minutes quite an artillery duel was indulged
in, interspersed with short rolls of musketry. It was curious to watch
the rebel guns, as the smoke lazily curled from the cannon’s mouth,
while the solid shot whizzed and shells shrieked over our breastworks.”
Among the incidents of this part of the great campaign was a dress
parade of the rebels on the top of Kenesaw Mountain. Our lines were so
near, that the display was distinctly visible and audible. Below the
regiment, whose bayonets gleamed in the rays of the setting sun, were
the bristling rifle-pits. A courier suddenly dashed up to the adjutant,
and handed him a despatch from General Johnston, announcing that General
Sherman “had brought his army so far south, that his line of supplies
was longer than he could hold; that he was too far from his base—just
where their commanding general wished to get him; that a part of their
army would hold the railroad, thirty miles north of the Etowah; and that
the great railroad bridge at Allatoona had been completely destroyed;
that in a few days Sherman would be out of supplies, because he could
bring no more trains through by the railroad. They were urged to
maintain a bold front, and in a few days the Yankees would be forced to
retreat. Breathless silence evinces the attention which every word of
the order receives, as the adjutant reads. Cheers are about to be given,
when hark! loud whistles from Sherman’s cars, at Big Shanty, interrupt
them. The number of whistles increase. Allatoona, Ackworth, and Big
Shanty depots resound with them. Supplies have arrived. The effect can
easily be imagined. The illustration was so apt, the commentary so
appropriate, that it was appreciated at the instant. ‘Bully for the base
of supplies!’ ‘Bully for the long line!’ ‘Three cheers for the big
bridge!’ ‘Here’s your Yankee cars!’ ‘There’s Sherman’s rations!’ Bedlam
was loose along their line for a short time.”
There was a tree in front of General Herron’s division of the Fifteenth
Army Corps, to which was given the name of _fatal tree_. Seven soldiers
in succession, who hid behind it to shoot, were killed. Then a board was
put on the tree, on which was chalked “dangerous.” The rebels soon shot
this sign to pieces, when a sergeant took his position there, and in
less than two minutes two Minié balls pierced his body, making the
eighth victim of rebel bullets—a tragical _item_ in war’s dread work.