CORINTH AFTER SHILOH
Captain J. H. Lockett was chief of the corps of engineers in throwing
the line of fortifications around Corinth.
We made the first general survey, commencing at a point on the Memphis
and Charleston (now the Southern) Railway about one mile and a half east
of Corinth and running north and west in a circle, keeping about the
same distance from the town until we came to the Ijams crossing, west of
Corinth.
I felt keenly the responsibility of my work as a pilot, but in boyhood
and youth I had learned the faces of these hills and woods as one comes
to know the kindly countenances of loving friends. In these quiet places
I had played every game known to the boys of my day, including “Hookey.”
I knew where the landscape smiled with sunny meadows or laughed with
purling springs or frowned with the gloom of a tangled thicket or grew
calm and dignified in the cooling shadows of stately groves.
Just how well we did our work was never put to a test, as our army
withdrew from Corinth before it was assailed; but our knowledge of the
country and of the necessities of that troubled time is mutely reflected
in the remaining sections of that great coil of clay, in its segment of
seven miles, still plainly visible after the rains and snows and frosts
and freezes have charged against them through sixty years.
At the point in our line of fortifications where the road forks, one
prong going eastward by Box Chapel and Farmington and the other in a
northeasterly direction to Pea Ridge and Pittsburg Landing, we built
double communicating lines and placed siege guns.
When we had finished our fortifications and mounted heavy guns at the
points of greatest danger, we settled down to await the approach of the
Union Army under the direct command of General Halleck, moving upon us
with an extreme and timid caution, which forever consigned him to a
place among the world’s smallest commanders of great armies.
One cannot imagine Lee or Grant or Stonewall Jackson or W. T. Sherman
taking more than a month to cover twenty miles in pursuit of a smaller
and defeated army. Napoleon or Hannibal, at Shiloh on the night of April
7, 1862, would have found the Confederate Army or the gates of Corinth
before sunrise the next morning.
Heretofore in our fights in this theater of war the Union forces had
enjoyed the co-operation of the gunboats, and now we were all elated
over the prospect of meeting the enemy out of range of his floating
batteries.
I was too young to know anything of the strategy of war, but the knowing
ones were pointing out the reasons why the Confederates had to defend
Corinth. It was at the crossing of the only two trunk lines in the South
at that time, and by these lines the Confederacy could transport
whatever supplies, men, and guns it possessed to this point. Corinth was
the key to the richness of the Mississippi Valley and the outer gateway
to the Eastern South; and so if with these reasons urging Richmond,
Corinth and these two essential lines of transportation could not be
saved, the future of the Confederacy would be dark indeed. My father
made this gloomy forecast to me when Corinth was evacuated; and although
I fought on as a stern duty, I never again hoped for the success of our
cause.
About the first of May, General Beauregard, desiring information
regarding the movements of the enemy, called on the detail for three
reliable scouts who knew the country and were willing to undertake a
dangerous expedition within the Union lines, saying that he did not wish
us to go as spies, but as Confederate soldiers, in full uniform, armed,
and well mounted, notwithstanding the fact that it would be necessary
for us to keep out of sight as much as possible. Dr. Lowry and Mose
Austin responded to the call, and insisted that I should be the third
man, as I knew the country and could guide them. Setting out early one
morning, we traveled the main road until we passed our advanced
pickets, and then took to the woods, moving cautiously and in single
file until we were well within the Union lines.
About two and a half miles beyond Chambers’ Creek we came to the
southwest corner of an old, abandoned plantation--no signs of its
vanished life except an old house in a state of decay. There being no
evidence of human occupants, we decided to rest our horses and
investigate the house and the country beyond. Riding forward in single
file across the opening between the woods and the house, Austin in
front, Lowry next, and I in the rear, when within fifty feet of the
front door, six Union soldiers stepped out from behind the house,
covered us with their guns, and commanded us to halt. This we had
already done. In the tense moment I remembered the quickness and speed
of my horse. I knew that Lowry would not surrender, and neither did I
intend to. When one of the men commanded us to come forward one at a
time, Austin rode forward. This put him directly between us and the
firing squad, and I took the opportunity and gave my horse a quick turn
and told him to go. He wheeled so quickly that I came near losing my
balance and falling, but I lay down and put my arms around his neck and
did not try to check his speed until I had received the fire of the
squad. Dr. Lowry used the same tactics, and he afterwards told me that
he had thought out the same plan, but feared that I would not do as I
did do and that our horses would get in a mix-up and cause us to be
killed or captured.
Our enemy, having muzzle-loading guns, had no time to reload before we
were out of range.
I have always considered this one of my narrowest escapes from death.
We knew that we had no time to lose, as the Federal cavalry would soon
be informed as to our presence; so we diverted our course from the route
we had come, traveling westward toward the Memphis and Charleston
Railroad, and escaped without further contact with the enemy.
We never again saw our comrade, Mose Austin. He was sent to Cairo, Ill.,
and died in prison.
About two weeks after this episode I was sent with a message to General
Price’s headquarters at the old Bogle Place, beyond the Stevenson Hill.
It developed that the message contained information relative to the
advance of the Union Army, then approaching Old Farmington, on the
Hamburg and Farmington Road.
When I delivered the message, I was informed that it was desired that
the information be repeated to the colonel in command of the picket east
of Seven-Mile Creek, and, with this order, I set out upon my prolonged
mission. As I had to pass through Old Farmington, where our company was
encamped, I stopped long enough to persuade Bailey Donnelly to accompany
me. Leaving the main road, we took a cattle trail along Seven-Mile
Creek, thence across a swamp, to the east of which we found a country of
thick undergrowth. Keeping in this for some distance, we struck the road
again, and I soon delivered my message. We hastened to return; and just
as we were ready to leave the road for the country of thick undergrowth,
we discovered a lone horseman coming over the top of the ridge above
us. Slipping into the thicket, we dismounted, tied our horses, and
cautiously crept back to ascertain whether the traveler was friend or
foe. We soon discovered that he was deeply distressed and in a state of
bewilderment. Riding first in one direction and then in another, he
seemed to become more and more excited and confused. I was much excited
when he came close enough for us to see that he wore the uniform of a
Union officer. He finally turned down toward us; and when he was close
to us, we stepped from our hiding place and commanded him to surrender.
He obeyed without any show of resistance, exhibiting great surprise and
excitement, as he, at first, took us for guerrillas ready to kill him.
We explained to him that we were regular soldiers, and that his ultimate
misfortune would be to become a prisoner. After disarming him, we
mounted him on his own horse and took him to our command at Farmington.
I took his six-shooters, and Donnelly his saddle and his sword, turning
in his horse to the army with the prisoner.
He told us that he was Major Phillips, of some Illinois regiment, and
that he was reconnoitering in front of his line and became separated
from his regiment and lost his way.
Since the war I have endeavored to locate Major Phillips, but have never
heard of him. I think he was sent from Corinth to prison at Demopolis,
Ala. If still living, I am sure that he would feel some interest in
meeting one of his captors of that long-gone time of stress and danger
and sorrow.
In a few days after my return, General Pope threw a division of the
Union Army across the Seven-Mile Creek opposite the Dick Smith Place,
near Farmington, which force was vigorously met by a similar force of
Confederates. For four or five hours there was a desperate fight, with
the Union force at a great disadvantage because of the fact that their
only way of approaching was by a narrow road through an impassable
swamp. As soon as the Confederates discovered this condition, they
brought reënforcements to the point of action, and, by a strong counter
attack, drove the enemy back, with a considerable loss of Union men and
one battery of guns.
Then, later in May, came the fighting on the Purdy Road, three miles
north of Corinth--at the old Dickey Field, on the Pea Ridge Road; at the
Surratt Place, on Bridge Creek; on the Farmington Road, at the Box
Chapel; and on the Burnsville Road, at Shelton Hill, now the poorhouse.
The Union Army was attacking along the entire line, and the general
opinion on our side was that the day for a general engagement against
Corinth and our entrenchments had come.
Our full force was called to the trenches, and remained in line of
battle all day. But it developed afterwards that the enemy was only
feeling his way toward our fortifications and gaining the higher points
wherever possible, so as to establish his large guns in positions from
which he could shell our lines before storming our works with his
infantry. General Halleck had made every preparation to capture Corinth.
In his final dispositions, heavy mortars had been so placed that they
could throw shells into the heart of the town. Rather novel signal
stations had been set up by securing high poles to the tops of trees.
This enabled the signal corps to overlook the surrounding country, to
see our line of entrenchments, and to direct the movements of attacking
troops, as well as the fire of the shelling guns.
Just how well General Beauregard had timed the attack of the enemy is
shown by the closing events of the siege of Corinth.
For many days our army had been moving out train loads of supplies, and
at nightfall on May 29 we were all lined up in the trenches; but as soon
as darkness came, everything except the cavalry marched out, bidding a
final adieu to Corinth. On the following morning at daybreak, when the
enemy advanced his skirmish line, he met with no resistance; and when
the first line of battle advanced, it found the trenches deserted.
The regiment of Union troops sent around to the rear to prevent our
withdrawal arrived too late, and our trains had all passed when they
began removing rails from the tracks.
As General Forrest had been wounded on the way from Shiloh, General
Chalmers was in command of all the cavalry which covered our retreat
from Corinth to Tupelo, Miss.
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