preparations for the grand march to the sea. It was at once evident that
he intended to abandon his line of communications, for he commenced to
build a fort large enough for the garrison he intended to leave at
Atlanta. This fort he built substantially in the heart of the city, and
destroyed the balance because in the way of the fort. So when General
Sherman took up his world-renowned march for the seaboard, but very
little of the "gate city of the south" remained standing. While these
preparations were going forward the 124th regiment was in camp about
three miles southeast of Atlanta, busy in cleaning up, drawing new
clothing, and recuperating from the effects of the arduous campaign just
closed. We had not been in camp many days before we were astonished by
the news that the Sanitary Commission, a patriotic organization of the
loyal citizens of the north (whose ramifications penetrated to every
city, village, hamlet and farm of the loyal states), had sent us a train
load of Irish potatoes. This may seem a small matter to take note of
after so many years and read to you, who in all your lives have never
know the want of anything to eat your appetites might crave, but what do
you say of a lot of men that from January 1st, 1863, to September, 1864,
had not feasted, even their eyes, on a potato? If you could, at your
home, surrounded with all the delicacies of the culinary art, be
deprived of the common potato for eighteen months, you could then
appreciate our situation. The cheers and shouting that went up, mid-
afternoon, when the commissary department sent word to the regiments it
had potatoes to issue, were enough to make one think the news of some
great victory had been communicated to us. And when the stream of
potatoes began to be diverted and divided to the companies and messes,
it was too comical for anything, those great bronzed and weather-beaten
soldiers, running around with their hands full of potatoes, and to see
the fires lighted at that time of day, and the little kettles, or pails
rather, filled and put on brimming full of potatoes; then when cooled to
see the feasting—potatoes served with salt. I suppose you would demand
nice Jersey butter, but salt was good enough for us. And this is not all
I have to say of that commission organized from the loyal citizens of
the north. It brought us by the car load, pickled cabbage and onions;
and how refreshing they were to us that had not tasted vegetable food
for eighteen long months. I do not believe there is an old veteran alive
to-day that does not bless from the bottom of his heart, that greatest
and most magnificent of charities ever organized—the Sanitary
Commission.
We had stayed in camp, as I said, while General Sherman was preparing
for his march to the sea; busy each day with drilling, foraging for
corn, and all the many things necessary to keep companies and regiments
in good shape, as per the army regulations. We had hoped, as had each
regiment of the Army of the Cumberland, that it would be our good
fortune to go with Sherman on his march south, and it was with not a
little chagrin and heartburning that we were not called, neither chosen,
to go on that march, that has been the wonder and admiration of the
military critics of all nations.
It had been determined by General Sherman that our corps (the 4th),
commanded by General Stanley, and the 23d Corps, commanded by General
Schofield—these two corps, and all other organizations of troops between
Atlanta and Nashville, to be in command of General George H. Thomas.
Howard was placed in command of the army of the Tennessee, whereby we
lost the services of General Hooker. The remainder of the army (save the
brigade of regulars, that were sent back to the top of Lookout mountain
where they would be out of danger) was chosen by General Sherman to make
the march to the sea. But you must not suppose that this choice was made
by reason of any superiority of that portion of the army that went with
him. It had turned out that Corporal Hood had made up his mind that if
Sherman could cut away from his base of supplies, and march south into
the enemy's country, he (Hood) ought to be able to march north, among
his dearly beloved friends; and if Sherman struck a heavy blow south, he
would get in his counter up north. And with the 23d and 4th Corps only,
left by Sherman, Hood had two men to Thomas' one.
But before passing to the details of the campaign upon which we were
about to enter, suffer me to remark that the same painstaking
preparation by General Sherman that I referred to in the "Atlanta
Campaign," was going forward. The most rigid surgical examination was
had in every company of every man whose health was suspected, or where
there could be anything found that incapacitated him from performing the
supposed arduous duties to be imposed upon him. All that could not stand
this rigid test were sent north. Would you not suppose that many would
have taken advantage of this examination to have gotten rid of a
campaign that seemed fraught with dangers, and so difficult of
execution? On the contrary, I am informed by high authority that those
that were rejected felt themselves grossly insulted and degraded as
soldiers. Neither was this crucial examination confined to the men—the
animals were carefully inspected, and all those not perfectly sound were
sent to the rear, or disposed of in some other way. The same of arms and
accouterments; so that when General Sherman turned his face toward the
salt sea breezes of the Atlantic, he had under his command as hardy, as
healthy, as determined, and as brave an army of veterans as ever caused
the earth to tremble under their tread.
It now seemed that Hood wanted a little more of the smell of our powder
before he took his little excursion to the mountains of Tennessee, for
we heard he was in force north of Marietta, and was threatening one of
our fortified positions at Altoona Pass, that Sherman had used as a sub-
base of supplies during the Atlanta campaign. So October 3d, 1864, we
broke up camp and marched to within five miles of Marietta, and camped
in the rebel works that had been constructed by them, first, after
leaving their position at Kennesaw mountain. This was good marching,
having started from our camp, three miles east of Atlanta, at four
o'clock p. m.
The fourth, we struck tents at noon and marched through Marietta to the
front of Kennesaw, and again found the rebel works convenient. Plenty of
rebels reported at Big Shanty, a short distance north. This two days'
marching shows how much easier to retrograde than to advance, in the
face of the enemy. It had taken us to go from Kennesaw mountain to
Atlanta, from July 22d to September 2d, and we had returned in a part of
two days. The fifth we moved out of our camp and marched north to Piny
Knob, and formed in line of battle along the base of the mountain.
Sherman had a signal corps or station on the top of this mountain. Some
of us went up to the station, and we could distinctly see Altoona Pass,
and see the smoke of the battle in progress there, as well as watch the
advancing columns General Sherman was sending forward for the relief of
General Corse, who was gallantly defending the works there, against
overpowering numbers of the enemy. It was here, from this mountain top,
that General Sherman signaled to General Corse "Hold the fort for I am
coming," that some one has immortalized in sacred song. Several of the
old 124th stood not twenty feet from the old general, when this famous
dispatch was being signaled from the top of Piny Knob to the gallant
Corse, who at that time was suffering from a dangerous wound he received
while in the defense he was making. But Hood, evidently, did not care to
fight on equal terms, and withdrew in the direction of Lost mountain,
and afterwards moved in the direction of Rome, Ga.; and Sherman, leaving
Old Pap Thomas to look after and care for Corporal Hood, turned his face
toward the south, and that was the last day of the war we ever saw our
beloved Uncle Billy. It was with a feeling of sadness that we saw him
depart, for we had learned to love and trust in him as we had no other
commander. We marched north through Altoona Pass, which still showed
evidences of the sanguinary conflict that had taken place there. We
marched all night after we went through the Pass, sleeping fifteen
minutes each hour. It was perfectly surprising to see how quickly the
regiment would go to sleep when the halt was sounded. When the assembly
call came it was some trouble to wake the tired soldiers, but usually we
were soon all in line, and marching on for another hour. The next day we
marched all day long, after halting, making coffee, and taking breakfast
near the Etowah river. On this march I first discovered the fact that it
was possible for one to march and be sound asleep, for on waking up I
discovered that no portion of the landscape had a familiar look, showing
that one had been asleep long enough for the landscape to entirely
change by our moving forward. This marching back on the railroad track
was very hard, as the road was not in very good shape, and we were in
danger of falling through trestles; and during the night, every now and
then, some sleepy soldier would get off his guard, and his head would go
down on the rail, making everything jingle. All the sympathy such
unfortunates received would be the shouts and jeers of his comrades to
which he often replied in language _just bordering on the profane_. This
marching did not differ much from day to day, and on the fifteenth day
of October we crossed the Rocky Face mountains. We went out over the
Chickamauga battlefield and saw very many of the bones of our unknown
comrades still unburied, that had fallen there more than a year before.
What strange feelings come over one as he passes over the field where he
fought, and his loved comrades fell. It seems as though they were with
him again in all of their manly beauty; he can see their stern looks of
defiance; can hear the rattle of the musketry, the thunder of the
artillery, the shouts of victory, the thud of the fatal minie, the dying
groan, the last good-bye; and the specter battle seems as real as when
engaged in the deadly conflict of the year before. The timber was badly
torn down by the shot and shells on that portion of the field over which
we passed. I remember the last day our Colonel Payne was with us. The
regiment was marching left in front that day, and of course that brought
my company next to the colonel and his staff. We made a halt near
Rossville, and laid down on the grass to rest. It was a beautiful Indian
summer evening; and while in conversation with the colonel he informed
me he intended to leave the regiment at Chattanooga; "thought he had
done his part," which was true, having nearly lost his life from a wound
he received at Chickamauga. I was surprised to learn of his intention to
leave us, as this was the first intimation that I had of his intention
to resign; but what surprised me most was the despairing view he seemed
to take of the war. He said to me, "We never can conquer the south, and
if we do children yet unborn will fight in this war." I replied: "They
would have to muster them in pretty young, if they did, and I expect to
see the end of the rebellion the next year." I think it must have been
the depressing effect of our retrograde movement that had taken such a
hold on our brave young colonel, for it did seem to many that all our
arduous campaign to Atlanta had been for naught.
Many thought it presumptuous in General Sherman to leave a large rebel
army to be opposed by an army of about half its numbers. But General
Sherman knew him that was in command of the rebel army, and knew very
well the grand old Virginian he had intrusted with the taking care of
him. We went into camp around Chattanooga, the place that had been the
scene of so much of sorrow and rejoicing the year before. We soon heard
that Hood was marching for the Tennessee river about Decatur, and we
were put into and on freight cars, and started in the night for that
point.
A large part of my company was on the top of the cars, and many of them
went to sleep in that dangerous situation and caused me very much
anxiety. Many a time during that night of peril I found a comrade just
on the edge of the car, liable to fall off with any little jolt. I never
remember passing a more perilous night. The next day we "came off the
roof" of the cars, and soon commenced the march northward for Pulaski.
When we came to the Duck river, that we had crossed the year before at
Manchester, there a mere mountain stream, we found a considerable river,
and so swollen with rains that it gave us considerable difficulty in
crossing. We soon arrived at Pulaski, a beautiful little village in
middle Tennessee. This is the best portion of the state, and so much has
nature done for it, that had it not been for the blighting influence of
slavery, might have truthfully been denominated the garden spot of the
United States. We had not been in Pulaski many days before Forrest's
cavalry appeared on our flanks, and we heard that Hood had crossed the
Tennessee river. We now took the pike again and moved up as far as the
village of Columbia, the home of several distinguished officers of the
confederate army. Here we went into camp, and did considerable
intrenching, our flanks resting on the Elk river. We arrived at Columbia
the twenty-fourth of October, and remained there until the night of the
twenty-ninth. During the day of the twenty-ninth our regiment was sent
up the river to watch a ford, and we watched it nicely, seeing the rebel
infantry crossing all day; but we had no orders to do anything but
watch. That afternoon we heard heavy firing in the direction of Spring
Hill, and we afterwards learned that our first division had been sharply
engaged with Cheatham's division, and had most handsomely checked the
rebel advance. At dark we were called in, and commenced the march
northward again. I should say it was about midnight when Adjutant Hammer
came riding back directing the company commandants to have the men so
adjust their canteens and bayonet scabbards that as little noise be made
as possible, that we were in the immediate presence of the enemy. This
we could hardly believe. Were it possible that the rebels had gotten a
position cutting our army in twain? We believed nothing of the kind,
but, nevertheless, obeyed the order like the true veteran soldiers that
we were. Soon we saw two lines of fires running away to the northeast,
and the left end of the line nearest us was so near the pike one could
have cast a stone into it without much effort. Were it possible these
two lines of bivouac fires represented the two lines of blue and gray
that had been fighting there the afternoon before? It was true. Such
were the facts. And yet our division, the 3d, and a wagon train twelve
miles long, passed along that pike, with all the noise incident to the
moving of a wagon train and artillery attached to our division, without
hindrance or molestation from the enemy.
Not a shot was fired, not a rebel picket nor skirmish line encountered,
as we passed the left flank of the enemy's line. Yet, they knew we were
there, for several of our men wandered from the column and went over to
the fires to warm, and were captured. Was there treason to the
confederacy? The fighting the next day fully answers that question in
the negative. Hood claims, I am told, that his officers were drunk and
failed to attack as he had ordered, and thereby let our division pass
him at Spring Hill. This may be true, for middle Tennessee makes a kind
of whiskey that will take the W. C. T. U. a long time to eradicate. A
single skirmish line across the pike that night would have so delayed
us, incumbered with the train, as we were (the train could not have been
moved off the pike), that it hardly seems possible that General Stanley
could have reunited the divisions of his corps. Thus was the golden
opportunity of Hood lost. We soon left the rebel fires behind us, and
with our train well ahead, and our divisions united, we had little to
fear from an army commanded by such a general as Hood. I have read
somewhere a confederate account of this transaction, and the writer,
though claiming to have been on the spot, fails to give anything like a
rational reason for the confederate forces letting us pass them October
30th, at Spring Hill.
The next morning we halted and made coffee beside the pike. While
breakfasting, a squad of rebel cavalry dashed up to the train, fired a
few shots, and were away like the wind. As we neared Franklin we came up
with some new regiments that General Thomas had hurried on from
Nashville, to meet and assist us in case we were forced to a battle
before we reached Nashville. These poor fellows that had been as far
south as Spring Hill, and were returning that morning, were mostly
completely played out, and filled the fence corners all along the pike.
I am sorry to say the hardy veterans that swung along after marching all
night treated them to expressions of which the following are samples:
"Fresh fish." "Fresh fish." "There lies $1000 and a cow." "How much did
you get?" "Say Jimmy, who owns you?" "Millions in it." These poor
fellows, with knapsacks larger than a mule should be required to carry,
received these taunts and jeers with silent disgust; and quite likely
the most of them at this time are drawing pensions for disabilities
received in the service and in the line of duty, while the old veteran
of scores of battles and skirmishes, of hundreds of miles of marches,
though broken in health, and prematurely old by reason of his hard
service, _has no hospital record_, and suffers great difficulties in
establishing his claim for a pension. Something wrong, somewhere, sure.
We arrived at Franklin about noon, and found the 23d Corps in position
and throwing up works from the Harpeth river above the village to the
river below. With this place we were very familiar. We first came here
in February, 1863. This was our camp of instruction. We assisted in
building the fort, with its large magazine on the north side of the
river and to the left of the village facing south. We that had worked
out many a weary detail asking, "What is all this worth?" "What is this
for, miles—miles from the enemy and the front," had the opportunity,
this thirtieth day of October, 1864, of seeing our labor richly
rewarded. We use to do picket duty north of the river and town, and knew
every foot of that country; and our Lieutenant Colonel Pickands and
Adjutant Hammer enjoyed the reputation of knowing some of the rebel
girls, with which the village swarmed. I remembered one Sally Atkinson,
who lived near our picket line, in fact the line ran through her
father's dooryard, who was a fine player on the piano, and something of
a singer. She, like all the southern women, was a bitter rebel, and used
to entertain the boys with "The bonny blue flag," and other rebel songs.
She often boasted of having two brothers in the rebel service. But more
of this anon.
Our wagon train was on the north side of the river, pulling out for
Nashville to the full extent of its mule power. Those not familiar may
be interested in a brief description of the field where the battle of
Franklin was fought. The Harpeth river makes quite a sharp bend to the
north, and the formerly very rich village, built very compactly,
occupies the most of the room in the bend. Here, before the war, was the
home of many rich cotton planters, for as you all will remember, this is
the heart of the cotton growing belt of Tennessee. The turnpike running
from the southern part of the state, through Pulaski, Columbia, and on
to Nashville, ran through about the center of Franklin. The Harpeth
river is a small stream, made largely of springs, but running through a
limestone region, lay in deep pools much of its way, that only rendered
it fordable above and below the town. To the left of the pike going
south from town there was a large cotton field, stretching to the left,
nearly to the river, and extending to the south, I should say, from half
to three-quarters of a mile to a line of hills, that rise quite abruptly
and constitute a picturesque landscape. Across this cotton field, from
east to west, ran our works, as I have said, from river above to river
below. At and near the pike, and to the left of the same, was planted
all of the field artillery that we possessed. It was the fortune of our
regiment to be detailed to cross the river, go down below the pike
bridge, intrench the south bank and guard the ford; and while we
witnessed the battle we were not called into it, and did not have
occasion to fire a shot at the point where we were stationed. Our line,
as you will understand from this brief description, was of necessity
short, and in some places was supported by a reserve line. General Hood
came up with his forces and formed his charging columns under the cover
of the hills at the south. He visited each division and brigade, to
which he stated that all the confederate soldiers had to do was to take
the rude works in front of Franklin, Thomas' army would be captured, and
Nashville with all of its vast military stores of clothing, provisions
and ammunition would fall into their hands. That Hood was a good man to
fight, about a division, I think is conceded; but I take it, if Thomas
had been consulted, and could have had the directing of Hood, he would
not have had him done any different from what he did. Hood had in all
arms, about forty-five thousand men when he came before Franklin. He had
about six thousand cavalry, under General Forrest, that instead of using
on our flanks and rear, he sent off to Murfreesborough to take the fort
that was garrisoned by a few regiments of recent enlistment. The fort
was easily defended against Forrest and would have been had his force
been double what it was. Forrest was a raider, but in no sense a
fighter. Schofield had not more than twenty thousand men, all told, some
of which were on duty with the train. But twenty thousand old veterans,
as my old soldier friends will bear me witness here to-day, are hard to
go out and get, especially, if you come straight up to the front door,
and this Corporal Hood, in a very gentlemanly manner, did.
Hood formed his charging column in three lines, extending across the old
cotton field from east to west; his right reaching the river, his left
resting on the pike. About three o'clock he made his first assault. His
lines came on in fine style. The heavy guns in the fort commenced
shelling unmercifully as soon as the assaulting column emerged from
behind the hills, and when it reached a point near enough the field
artillery opened with shrapnel and canister, making fearful havoc in the
ranks of gray. But nothing daunted those charging lines, led by that
best of fighting generals, Pat Cleburne, came on until they reached a
point within two hundred yards of our works, when our infantry opened
such a murderous fire over that level field that no valor could stand
before its destructive torrent. The assaulting column broke, and the
personal presence of Hood and his daring lieutenant could not rally them
until they were behind the sheltering protection of the hills where they
were first formed. The assault was repeated time after time, until nine
o'clock that night. In one of these assaults the rebels charged to our
works and drove our first line out of them for a short distance; but
Colonel Opdyke's brigade, lying close in the rear, at once charged,
restoring the line and capturing over a thousand prisoners. The rebels
were taken entirely unawares by the charge made by Opdyke's brigade.
When they captured that portion of the line they seemed to think our
forces had left, for Opdyke found them sitting down on the top of the
works; some of them, having laid their guns aside and lighted their
pipes, were enjoying the _solace of the soldier_.
Our field artillery did most magnificent work, but suffered heavily. One
battery of the Ohio regiment of artillery lost all the men it had at one
gun, save a sergeant, and he loaded and gave the charging column one
dose of canister after his left arm had been blown off.
This battle of Franklin was one of the most sanguinary, and to the rebel
army one of the most disastrous, of the war. Hood lost four general
officers, among them was the celebrated Pat Cleburne, that our division
had been opposed to so many times on the Atlanta campaign. He fell in
one of the many charges that afternoon, his horse's fore legs resting on
our works. As soon as it was certain that the enemy did not intend to
renew the conflict that night, our troops began to retire to the south
side of the river. The bridge across the stream was covered with
blankets to a depth of six or eight inches, and the artillery was moved
across without noise; and by two o'clock a. m. of the thirty-first of
October the last regiment was on the south side of the river and on the
march for Nashville. Our wounded were left in the village, those that
could not be moved, and surgeons to take care of them.