THE BATTLE OF CORINTH
The command of General Forrest was not in the battle of Corinth, as it
occurred while we were in Kentucky; but because of the sentiment that
attaches to the place as my home I desire to record here the substance
of a description given me by a kinsman of the Second Texas who was in
the battle.
After the battle of Iuka, on September 19 and 20, 1862, the commands of
General Price and General Van Dorn were united; and these two commanders
resolved to attack Corinth, then occupied by the Union Army under
General Rosecrans.
Under the supreme command of General Van Dorn, the Confederate Army left
Chewalla, a railroad station eight miles west of Corinth, on the morning
of October 3, 1862.
About ten o’clock in the morning the order to attack was given, and the
command moved forward cautiously, with its skirmish line deployed in
front. In a short time the skirmishers of the Second Texas became
engaged with skirmishers of the enemy, and the Forty-Second Alabama
Regiment, coming up during the engagement, mistook the Texans for a
command of the enemy, and fired upon them, killing Lieutenant Haynes, of
Company E., and six private soldiers.
The engagement soon became general. The enemy, however, retreated and
fell back beyond the old Confederate breastworks, the same that I had
helped to locate before the evacuation of Corinth. As our line advanced,
we discovered that the Union Army was making a stand at an entrenched
camp, which was strongly fortified. Their resistance was stubborn, but
we drove them from their strong position. They did not retire a great
distance before making another stand, seemingly with greatly increased
numbers. After a brief stand, they charged us. The Second Texas received
the shock, and, furiously counter attacking, they cut the Union line and
captured some three hundred prisoners. At this juncture several Union
batteries opened a tremendous fire on the right of the Texans from an
elevated position on the south side of the Memphis and Charleston (now
Southern) Railroad. The Second Texas was ordered to charge the
batteries. Colonel Rodgers saw that they had been discovered by a
brigade of infantry, and asked for reënforcements. Johnson’s and
Dockery’s Arkansas Regiments of Cabell’s Brigade were sent, and the
three regiments charged, driving back the infantry and capturing three
batteries of light artillery.
We next found the stubborn enemy entrenched in a camp on an elevation
between two prongs of a creek, where fresh troops had already been
massed. Here was presented the most determined stand we had met with
during the day. After hard fighting, with heavy losses on both sides,
the Union troops were finally driven from this position at the point of
the bayonet. The Union officers tried gallantly to stem the tide,
General Ogelsby and General Hackelman being desperately wounded in a
vain effort to rally their beaten soldiers. In this camp we found
bread, butter, cheese, crackers, and other food in abundance, and, while
enjoying a short rest, partook of the enemy’s unwilling hospitality
during his enforced absence--the first food we had tasted that day.
When driven from this position, the enemy fled precipitately to the
protection of the inner fortifications at Corinth.
About sunset the exhausted Confederates, with empty cartridge boxes,
halted within about a half mile of Corinth and very near the inner
fortifications. The loss in our regiment was very heavy. Among the
wounded were Lieut. A. K. Leigh and Halbert Rodgers, the youthful son of
the colonel who, during the day, had handled his regiment with
consummate skill, being with it in every position of danger.
Before daylight on October 4 the Confederate artillery opened a vigorous
fire on the enemy’s works, and a lively contest between the gray and
blue cannon was kept up until after daylight. During the early morning
there was sharp fighting on the skirmish line in front of the Second
Texas, in which the Union skirmishers were driven in and their
commander, Col. Joseph A. Mower, was severely wounded and captured, but
again fell into the hands of his friends that evening after our retreat
from Corinth.
Directly in front of the Second Texas, a short distance north of the
Memphis and Charleston Railroad, was “Fort Robinette,” with three
twenty-pound siege guns; and in “Fort Williams,” on the south side of
the railroad, there were four twenty-four pounders and two eight-inch
Howitzers. On the eminence between “Fort Williams” and the railroad were
six guns of Battery F., U. S. Light Artillery; and on the south side of
the same fort were two guns of the Second Illinois Light Artillery--all
commanding the field to the westward and in positions to sweep the
hillside in front of “Robinette.” In addition to these, two guns of the
Wisconsin Light Artillery occupied a point just north of and very close
to “Robinette,” between it and the Chewalla dirt road, and in a position
to sweep the top and side of the hill in front.
These were the positions of the Union artillery, seventeen guns in all,
in front of the Second Texas Regiment and commanding the ground over
which that wonderful organization of fighters was about to deliver one
of the most daring and desperate assaults in the history of wars.
The Union infantry was also placed advantageously for dealing
destruction to the assaulting column.
The Forty-Seventh Illinois Regiment lay behind the railroad, immediately
in front of “Fort Williams,” covering the hillside with their deadly
Springfield rifles. The Forty-Third Ohio occupied the ground immediately
behind the breastworks on the north side of “Robinette,” with its left
near the fort. The Eleventh Missouri was lying down under the hill,
about fifty yards in the rear of “Robinette,” with its right and left
wings expanding opposite the Forty-Third and Sixty-Third Ohio,
respectively. The Twenty-Seventh Ohio occupied the trenches on the right
of the Sixty-Third; and the Thirty-Ninth Ohio was still further to the
north, on the right of the Twenty-Seventh, with its right wing facing
north, at right angles to the line of its left wing and to the
Twenty-Seventh and the Sixty-Third.
The order to charge had been expected every moment since daylight; but
owing to the sudden illness of General Herbert, commanding the Left
Division of Price’s Corps, the initial attack had been delayed until
about ten o’clock. During the interval of waiting the men were subjected
to the most intense mental strain. As every trained and experienced
soldier will testify, the suspense of waiting in the prelude of an onset
is more trying than the actual conflict, wherein the heat of battle
fevers the mind into a kind of fearless frenzy that causes it to lose
the weights and measures of danger.
When the order to advance was given, that fine body of soldiers obeyed
as unhesitatingly as if the impulse to move had been that of a single
man, the different regiments being massed in five lines of two companies
each. When they encountered the abatis--an obstruction of felled trees,
with sharpened and interwoven branches--the formation was necessarily
somewhat broken, just as the enemy’s artillery began to blast and
wither the moving mass of men; but each man, though but an atom of the
fiery storm, moved with a separate though strangely co-operative
intelligence, advancing with remarkable rapidity toward the common
objective, “Fort Robinette.” As soon as the abatis was passed, a partial
restoration of the organizations took place in the very furnace of
battle as the lines sprang forward with a many-voiced yell. When they
reached the brow of the hill, the earth trembled under the deafening
crash of the opposing artillery, while the Union infantry regiments
poured a deadly enfilading fire into the right flank of the Texans. It
was beyond the power of human endurance, however sublime the courage
that willed it, to withstand such a shock of lead and iron, and the
attackers of “Robinette” recoiled through a quivering sheet of flame.
With encouraging words from the intrepid colonel, a partial reformation
was effected, and the order to charge again was given. As steel on
flint, a blow to the brave strikes fire in the soul; and so these
smitten Texans flamed with fury as they returned to the charge. The
slaughter was one-sided and terrible; and as the men in gray recoiled a
second time, the fourth color bearer fell with the flag in his hand.
Then it was that Colonel Rodgers seized the tattered banner and rode
into the midst of his heroic band. Once more forming them into a ragged
line, he asked if they were willing to follow him, and they responded
with an affirmative yell. Again the order to advance was given, and the
Colonel rode up the hill directly toward the fort, bearing the colors.
With a steady gaze fixed on the fort, he moderated his horse’s pace to
the pace of his men. The column moved forward in double-quick time.
Their ranks were ruthlessly raked with lead and iron; but the living
filled the gaps left by the dead, as the bleeding remnant pressed on to
the fort.
Colonel Rodgers rode into the ditch that fronted the works, followed by
the head of his column; and as the others came up, they scattered around
either side. The right wing of the Second Texas was met by the
determined front of the Forty-Third Ohio, and a hand-to-hand conflict
followed. The onset of the Texans was made with such reckless
desperation that the Ohioans were put to flight, leaving one-half of
their number killed or wounded on the ground, their brave colonel, J.
Kirby-Smith, being among the slain.
On the north side of “Robinette” the left wing of the Second Texas came
in contact with the Sixty-Third Ohio; and, after a bloody contest at
close quarters, the blue column was driven back at the point of the
bayonet, leaving fifty-three per cent of its number on the ground. The
section of light artillery at that point made its escape to the Union
rear.
While these bloody conflicts were taking place on both flanks of the
fort, Colonel Rodgers climbed upon the parapet and planted the flag of
his regiment in triumph at its top. The men who had followed him leaped
fearlessly down inside the fort, and, with others who had crawled
through the embrasures, unexpectedly engaged the cannoneers in a
hand-to-hand conflict. The fight was short and fierce, and thirteen out
of twenty-six men of the First U. S. Infantry who manned the guns of
the fort were slain, and a number of others, including the commander,
Lieutenant Robinette, were wounded.
Thus was the fort captured and silenced; but “Fort Williams” continued
to pour its deadly fire into the gray, thinned ranks and into the
struggling mass of gray and blue, while the Forty-Seventh Illinois, from
its elevated position along the railroad, swept the parapets of
“Robinette” with long-range rifles as the Confederates scaled them.
Meantime a fearful hand-to-hand fight was raging in the heart of the
town--around the railroad depot, the Tishomingo Hotel, the Corinth
House, and even in the yard around the headquarters of General
Rosecrans, the old Duncan homestead. The fighting was furious, but the
heavy reserves of fresh troops which the Union commander had massed in
the central and the southwest portions of the town met the torn and
half-exhausted columns of the Confederates and literally plucked victory
from defeat.
The victorious reserves of the enemy marched upon “Robinette” from the
town, Gen. David S. Stanley advancing from the southeast with the
reformed Forty-Third Ohio and two fresh regiments.
When it was apparent to the little band of Texans in and upon the
captured fort that their dearly bought victory was of no avail and that
the day was lost with the repulse of the Confederates in the center of
the town, Colonel Rodgers’ first thought was to save the lives of as
many of his men as possible, and he waved his handkerchief from the top
of the parapet, making known his desire to surrender; but the enemy
either did not see him or misunderstood or mistrusted the signal, for
the firing continued from both advancing columns. He then said to the
men around him: “The enemy refuses to accept our surrender, and we will
sell our lives as dearly as possible.”
With a calm precision, he then ordered his men to fall back into the
ditch outside the fort, and there gave the order for the retreat. He
climbed out of the ditch with the flag in one hand and his pistol in the
other, the remnant of his shattered band clustering around him, and they
slowly retreated backward as they returned the fire of the advancing
and overwhelming lines of blue.
Up to this time the Eleventh Missouri Regiment had not fired a shot; but
about the time this heroic retreat began, it suddenly rose from its
waiting position, rushed upon and around the fort, and poured a
withering fire into the retreating band of Texans, and their intrepid
leader fell, pierced with eleven wounds. The flag fell across his body;
and the few yet remaining of his loyal band, remembering the vows made
when this flag was presented to the regiment at Houston by the ladies of
Texas, seized and bore the fallen emblem away, Ben Wade, of Company I,
being the man who rescued it.
By this time the whole Confederate Army was in retreat. General
Villepigue’s Brigade of Lovell’s Division marched by the left flank
across the Memphis and Charleston Railroad and threw its columns between
the shattered ranks of Maury’s Division and the expected pursuit. The
conquerors stood aghast at the combination of circumstances which had
given them the victory. Enchanted by the comparative calm that followed
the storm, they seemed satisfied to rest upon their laurels and forego
the opportunity to follow the weary and beaten foe.
When the smoke lifted its somber veil from the sorrowful field of
carnage, the face of the landscape was distorted with horror, expressed
in suffering and death. But the spirit of immortal glory hovered there,
for the soil of Mississippi had been sanctified by the blood of heroes,
and amid the falling tears and broken hearts of the South and of the
North the Muse of History was gathering from the broken circles of
death-smitten homes names for the roll of eternal fame.
The whole country was electrified by the news of the fearless assault of
Rodgers and his Texans. Illustrated papers of the North carried pictures
of the dramatic scenes.
In closing his report of the battle, General Van Dorn said: “I cannot
refrain from mentioning here the conspicuous gallantry of a noble Texan
whose deeds at Corinth are the constant theme of both friends and foes.
As long as courage, manliness, fortitude, patriotism, and honor exist,
the name of Rodgers will be revered and honored among men. He fell in
the front of battle and died beneath the colors of his regiment in the
very center of the enemy’s stronghold. He sleeps, and Glory is his
sentinel.”
The deeds of this brave officer called forth not only the encomium of
his commanding general, but also the approval and admiration of the
big-hearted commander of the Union Army. By order of General Rosecrans,
the body of the fallen hero was buried with military honors upon the
field where he fell and the grave inclosed with wooden palings.
What sadder illustration of War’s ruthless waste of manhood could there
be than is presented in the sacrificial death of that heroic son of
Texas? What a wealth of courage, integrity, and high purpose that might
have been utilized in the bloodless battles of a nation’s peaceful
progress was forced to perish under the juggernaut of fraternal strife!
What a scathing indictment of our civilization--our politics, our
religion--is that lonely grave!
Among the officers killed were Colonel Rodgers, Second Texas; Colonel
Johnston, Twentieth Arkansas; Major James, Twentieth Arkansas; Col. J.
D. Martin, commanding the Fourth Brigade of Price’s Division.
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