Haynie was severely wounded; Colonel Raith, commanding a brigade, had
his leg so shattered that amputation was necessary; Major Nevins, of the
Eleventh Illinois, was wounded; Lieutenant-Colonel Ransom, of the same
regiment, was wounded; three of General McClernand’s staff—Major
Schwartz, Major Stewart and Lieutenant Freeman—were wounded, and carried
from the field. Line officers had suffered heavily. The batteries were
broken up—Schwartz had lost half his guns and sixteen horses. Dresser
had lost several of his rifled pieces, three caissons and eighteen
horses. McAllister had lost half his twenty-four pound howitzers.
[Illustration:
DESPERATE HAND-TO-HAND FIGHT OVER SCHWARTZ’S BATTERY.
]
The soldiers fought bravely to the last—bravely as ever men fought—but
they were at a terrible disadvantage. Gradually they began falling back,
making a determined resistance; occasionally they rallied and repulsed
the enemy for a hundred yards, then were beaten back again, renewing the
retreat to some new position for fresh defence.
By eleven o’clock the division was back in a line with Hurlbut’s. It
still did some gallant fighting; once its right swept round and drove
the enemy before it for a considerable distance, but again fell back; at
last it brought up near the position of W. H. L. Wallace’s division.
Now Prentiss, Sherman and McClernand were driven back, and their camps
were all in the hands of the enemy. The whole front line, for which
Hurlbut and Wallace were but the reserves, was gone.
Sherman’s brigade, on the extreme left, was doubly left alone by the
Generals. General Grant did not arrive on the field until each division
General had been in action, and the respective Generals had in the best
manner they could, carried on the battle; but this brigade was even left
by its division General, who was four miles away, doing his utmost to
rally his panic-stricken regiments there.
It was commanded by Colonel David Stuart, and was composed of the
Fifty-fifth Illinois, Lieutenant-Colonel Malmbourg, commanding;
Seventy-first Ohio, Colonel Rodney Mason; the Fifty-fourth Ohio
(Zouaves), Colonel T. K. Smith. It was posted along the circuitous road
from Pittsburg Landing, up the river to Hamburg, some two miles from the
Landing, and near the crossing of Lick Creek, the bluffs on the opposite
side of which commanded the position, and stretching on down to join
Prentiss’ division on its right.
When the rebels marched out from Corinth, a couple of brigades (rumored
to be under the command of Breckinridge), had without molestation
reached the bluffs of Lick Creek, commanding Stuart’s position.
During the attack on Prentiss, Stuart’s brigade was formed along the
road, the left resting near the Lick Creek ford, the right,
Seventy-first Ohio, Colonel Rodney Mason, being nearest Prentiss. The
first intimation they had of disaster to their right was the partial
cessation of firing. An instant afterwards, muskets were seen glimmering
among the leaves, and presently a rebel column emerged from a bend in
the road, with banners flying, and moving at double-quick toward them.
Their supports to the left were more remote than the rebels, and it was
evident that, with but one piece of artillery, a single regiment could
do nothing there. They accordingly fell back toward the ford, and were
reinforced in an orchard near the other regiments.
The rebel column veered on further to the right, and for a brief space,
though utterly isolated, they remained unmolested.
Before ten, however, the brigade, which stood listening to the wild roar
of battle on the left, was startled by a shell that hurtled directly
over their heads. In an instant the rebel batteries that had gained the
commanding bluffs opposite, by approaching on the Corinth and Hamburg
road, were in fiery play. The orchards and open fields in which they
were posted, looking only for an attack in the opposite direction, were
swept with the exploding shells and a hail-storm of grape.
Under cover of this fire from the bluffs, the rebels rushed down,
crossed the ford, and in a moment were seen forming on the creek, in
open fields, and within close musket range. Their color-bearers stepped
defiantly to the front, as the engagement opened. The storm came in
sharp and quick volleys of musketry, the batteries above supporting them
with a destructive fire. The Union sharpshooters panted to pick off the
audacious rebel color-bearers, but Colonel Stuart interposed,—crying
out, “No, no, they are too brave fellows to be killed.” Almost at the
first fire, Lieutenant-Colonel Barton S. Kyle, of the Seventy-first, was
shot through the breast. The brigade stood firmly at least ten minutes,
when it became evident that its position was untenable, and it fell
rapidly back, perhaps a quarter of a mile, to the next ridge; a few of
Stuart’s men, at great personal risk, carrying Lieutenant-Colonel Kyle,
in a dying condition, from the field they were abandoning. Ohio lost no
braver, truer man that day.
When they reached the next woody ridge, rebel cavalry, that had crossed
the creek lower down, were seen coming up on the left; and the line of
battle was formed fronting in that direction, to resist this new attack.
For three-quarters of an hour the brigade kept this position. The
cavalry, finding it prepared, did not come within range. In front they
were hard pressed, and the rebels began to come in on their right.
Colonel Stuart had sent across to Brigadier-General W. H. L. Wallace,
then not engaged, for support. Brigadier-General McArthur’s brigade was
promptly started across, but mistaking the way, and bearing too much to
the right, found itself in the midst of the rebel forces. He vigorously
engaged the rebels to his front and flanks, fell back to a good position
and held these troops in bay till the rest of his division came up.
General McArthur was himself disabled by a wound in the foot, but he
rode to a hospital, had it dressed, and returned to the brigade, which
meantime held its position stoutly.
But this brought Stuart’s isolated brigade little assistance. They were
soon forced to fall back to another ridge, then to another, and,
finally, about twelve o’clock, shattered and broken, they retreated to
the right and rear, falling in behind General McArthur’s brigade to
reorganize. Colonel Stuart was himself wounded by a ball through his
right shoulder, and the loss of field and company officers greatly
disheartened the troops.
DESPERATE CONDITION OF THE NATIONAL TROOPS.
Now the entire front was cleared. The enemy had full possession of
Sherman’s, Prentiss’ and McClernand’s camps. By ten o’clock the whole
front, except Stuart’s brigade, had given way, and the burden of the
fight was resting on Hurlbut and W. H. L. Wallace. Before twelve,
Stuart, too, had come back, and for the time, those two divisions stood
absolutely alone between the Union army and destruction.
But truly brave men are bravest when driven to extremities. Hurlbut and
Wallace made a most gallant stand; and most of the troops from the three
scattered divisions were still to some extent available. Many of them
had wandered down the river, some to Crump’s Landing, and others even to
Savannah, to be brought back on transports. Brigades could not be
collected again, much less divisions, but the regiments were gathered
together from the loose squads wandering about, and officered, often by
men who could find scarcely a soldier of their own commands. These were
hurried to the front, and many of them did good service.
According to general understanding, in the event of an attack at
Pittsburg Landing, Major-General Lew. Wallace was to come in on the
Union right, and flank the rebels by marching across from Crump’s
Landing below.
But, as has been stated, Wallace, with his division, though all drawn up
and ready to march anywhere at a moment’s notice, was not ordered to
Pittsburg Landing till nearly twelve o’clock. Then, by mistake, he got
on the new road, four miles of marching were lost, and the circuitous
route made it a march of twelve miles before he could reach the scene of
battle. Meantime the right was almost wholly unprotected.
Fortunately, however, the rebels did not seem to have discovered the
full extent of this weakness, and their heaviest fighting was done on
the centre and left, where the Union lines were still preserved.
HURLBUT’S DIVISION.
Hurlbut’s division stretched across the Corinth road, facing to the
left. W. H. L. Wallace’s other brigades had gone over to assist
McArthur, and the divisions thus reunited, steadily closed the line. To
Hurlbut’s right the lines were united by the reorganized regiments that
had been resent to the field. McClernand and Sherman were both there.
Hurlbut had been encamped in the edge of a stretch of open fields,
backed with heavy timber, which lay nearest the river.
Three times during those long hours the heavy rebel passes on the left
charged upon the division, and three times were they repulsed with
terrible slaughter. Close, sharp, continuous musketry filled the air
with fire and smoke—whole lines belched their furious fire on the
rebels, and a leaden storm swept the fields over which they attempted to
advance with terrible fury. No troops could have withstood this deadly
fire. Rebel discipline gave way under it, though dead bodies left
scattered over the field, even on Monday evening, bore ghastly testimony
to the daring with which they had been precipitated towards the Federal
lines.
The rebel generals handled their forces with a skill that extorted
admiration even from their enemies. Repulse was nothing to them; if a
rush on the Union lines failed, they took their disordered troops to the
rear, and sent up fresh forces, who ignorant of the deadly reception
that awaited them, were ready to make a new trial. Hurlbut’s jaded
division was compelled to yield at last, and after six hours’
magnificent fighting, it fell back of its camps to a point within half a
mile of the landing.
WALLACE’S DIVISION.
Hurlbut’s companion division—that of Brigadier-General W. H. L. Wallace,
included the Second and Seventh Iowa, Ninth and Twenty-eighth Illinois,
and several of the other regiments composing Major-General Smith’s old
division. Wallace had also three excellent batteries—Stone’s,
Richardson’s and Weber’s, all from Missouri.
With him, too, the fight began about ten o’clock, as already described.
From that time till four in the afternoon his troops bore up manfully.
The musketry fire was absolutely continuous; there was scarcely a moment
that some part of the line was not pouring in their rattling volleys,
and the artillery sent forth its death-thunders with but little
intermission through the entire time.
Once or twice the infantry advanced, attempting to drive back the
continually increasing enemy; but though they could hold their own
ground, their numbers were unequal to the task of conquering more.
Four separate times in turn the rebels attempted to charge on them. Each
time the infantry poured in its quickest volleys, the artillery
redoubled its exertions, and the rebels retreated with heavy slaughter.
The division was eager to remain, even when Hurlbut fell back, and the
noble fellows serving the guns were particularly indignant when
compelled to silence their own batteries. But their supports were gone
on both sides. It was madness to remain in isolated advance. Just as the
necessity for retreating was becoming apparent, General Wallace, whose
cool, collected bravery had commanded universal admiration, was, as it
was believed, mortally wounded, and borne away from the field. At last
the division fell back. Its soldiers claim the proud distinction of
being the last to yield, in the general breaking up of the lines that
gloomy Sunday afternoon.
Captain Stone could not resist the temptation of stopping, as he passed
what had been Hurlbut’s headquarters, to try a few parting shots. He did
fine execution, but his wheel horses were shot down, and he narrowly
escaped losing his guns.
With the first dash of the enemy on the left wing, it became evident
that a stupendous effort would be put forth to break through it. For two
hours sheets of fire blazed from both columns, and clouds of smoke
surged up between them with the rush and stifling effect of a prairie
fire. The Mississippi riflemen in the enemy’s ranks fought with terrible
valor, which was met with steady heroism by those who stood firmly under
their unerring fire. Three different times the enemy seemed on the verge
of a victory. They drove the Union forces slowly before them until they
came in sight of the river, but up to three o’clock the desperate
attempt to break the Federal lines proved unavailing. Having failed to
drive in the main columns, they had turned with furious strength on the
right wing; baffled there, they made another onset on the left wing,
fighting more desperately than ever. But the Union lines were prepared
for the assault, fierce as it was, and met it with wonderful steadiness.
The whole army was crowded into Wallace’s camps, and confined in a
circuit of from half to two-thirds of a mile around the Landing. The
Union army fighting bravely, had been falling back inch by inch all day.
The next repulse threatened to drive them into the river.
Brigadier-General Prentiss and three regiments with him—the Twenty-third
Missouri, of his own division, and the Twelfth and Fourteenth Iowa, of
those that had come to his assistance—delayed their retreat too long,
having relied too confidently on their supporting division to check a
flank movement of the enemy. Almost before they saw their danger, the
flanking forces rushed in from either side behind them, and they stood,
perhaps two thousand strong, in the midst of thrice their number. Hedged
in with battalions, with a forest of steel bristling on every side,
these brave men yielded to the force of numbers, and were taken
prisoners, after fighting bravely till further contest would have been
self-murder.
Meantime Sherman’s brigades had maintained a confused fight. Buckland’s
were almost gone, Hildebrand’s and McDowell’s were holding their ground
more tenaciously.
General Hurlbut gives a clear statement of the retreat and final
position of the Federal forces on Sunday afternoon:
“When, about three o’clock, Colonel Stewart, on my left, sent me word
that he was driven in, and that I would be flanked in a few moments, it
was necessary for me to decide at once to abandon either the right or
left. I considered that General Prentiss could, with the left of General
McClernand’s troops, probably hold the right, and sent him notice to
reach out toward the right, and drop back steadily parallel with my
first brigade, while I rapidly moved General Lauman from the right to
the left, and called up two twenty-pound pieces of Major Cavender’s
battalion to check the advance of the enemy upon the first brigade.
These pieces were taken into action by Dr. Corvine, the surgeon of the
battalion, and Lieutenant Edwards, and effectually checked the enemy for
half an hour, giving me time to draw off my crippled artillery, and to
form a new front with the third brigade. In a few minutes, two Texas
regiments crossed the ridge separating my line from Stuart’s former one,
while other troops also advanced.
“Willard’s battery was thrown into position, under command of Lieutenant
Wood, and opened with great effect on the Lone Star flags, until their
line of fire was obstructed by the charge of the third brigade, which,
after delivering its fire with great steadiness, charged up the hill,
and drove the enemy back three or four hundred yards. Perceiving that a
heavy force was closing on the left, between my line and the river,
while heavy firing continued on the right and front, I ordered the line
to fall back. The retreat was made steadily, and in good order. I had
hoped to make a stand on the line of my camp, but masses of the enemy
were pressing on each flank, while their light artillery was closing
rapidly in the rear. On reaching the twenty-four-pounder siege guns in
battery, near the river, I again succeeded in forming line of battle in
rear of the guns, and, by direction of Major-General Grant, I assumed
command of all troops that came up. Broken regiments and disordered
battalions came into line gradually upon my division.
“Major Cavender posted six of his twenty-pound pieces on my right, and I
sent my aid to establish the light artillery, all that could be found,
on my left. Many officers and men, unknown to me, fled in confusion
through the line. Many gallant soldiers and brave officers rallied
steadily on the new line. I passed to the right and found myself in
communication with General Sherman, and received his instructions. In a
short time the enemy appeared on the crest of the ridge, led by the
Thirteenth Louisiana, but were cut to pieces by the steady and murderous
fire of our artillery.”
The enemy were in possession of nearly all the Union camps and camp
equipage. Half the field artillery had fallen into his hands; a division
general had been captured—many officers had followed him, and more than
one regiment of soldiers had been made prisoners. The battle field was
cumbered at every step with killed and wounded; the hospital tents were
overflowing and crowded with human agony. A long ridge bluff set apart
for surgical purposes swarmed with the maimed, the dead and the dying,
whose cries and groans broke fearfully through the pauses of the
artillery. A dogged, stubborn resolution took possession of the men;
regiments had lost their favorite officers; companies had been bereft of
their captains. Still they continued to fight desperately, but with
little hope.
At three o’clock the gunboat Tyler opened fire on the enemy, and at four
the Lexington came up, taking position half a mile above the landing,
and opened fire, striking terror into the ranks of the enemy.
General Grant was confident that his troops could hold the enemy off
till morning, and said this while standing with his staff in a group by
the old log post-office on the landing, which was then crowded with
surgeons and the wounded; but still the men fought with a despairing
light in their eyes.
In a time like this, minutes count for years. General Grant used them to
a golden purpose. Colonel Webster, chief of staff, and an artillery
officer of ability, had arranged all the guns he could collect in a sort
of semi-circle, protecting the Landing, and bearing chiefly on the Union
centre and left, by which the rebels were pretty sure to advance. Corps
of artillerists to man them were improvised from all the batteries that
could be found. Twenty-two guns in all were placed in position. Two of
them were very heavy siege guns, long thirty-two’s. Where they came
from, what battery they belonged to, no man questioned. It was quite
unimportant. Enough that they were there, in the right place, half a
mile back from the bluff, sweeping the approaches by the left, and by
the ridge Corinth road, but with few to work them. Dr. Corvine, surgeon
of Frank Blair’s First Missouri Artillery, proffered his services, which
were gladly accepted, and he worked them with terrible effect.
It was half-past four o’clock—perhaps later still. Every division of the
Union army on the field had been repulsed. The enemy occupied almost all
their camps. The struggling remnant of Federal troops had been driven to
within little over half a mile of the Landing. Behind was a deep, rapid
river. In front was a victorious enemy. Still there was an hour for
fighting. O, that night or Lew. Wallace would come! Nelson’s division of
Buell’s army evidently could not cross in time to save the day. No one
could tell why Lew. Wallace was not on the ground. In the justice of a
righteous cause, and in that semi-circle of twenty-two guns in position,
lay all the hope these beleagured men could see.
At five o’clock the artillery which had been thundering so stormily,
held its fire a little; the flash of muskets from the enemy’s lines died
away, and his columns fell back on the centre for nearly a mile. With a
sudden swoop they wheeled and again threw their entire force on the left
wing, determined to end the fearful contest of the day then and there.
Suddenly a broad, sulphurous flash of light leaped out from the
darkening woods, and through the glare and smoke came whistling leaden
hail. The rebels were making their crowning effort for the day, and as
was expected, they came from the left and centre. They had wasted their
fire at one thousand yards. Instantaneously a new tempest from the
black-mouthed Union guns flung out its thunderous response. The rebel
artillery opened, and shell and round shot came tearing across the open
space back of the bluff. The Union infantry poured in a glorious
response from their broken battalions, invigorated by the announcement
that the advance of Buell’s army was in sight. Just then a body of
cavalry appeared across the Tennessee river, waiting transportation. In
their extremity the soldiers turned their eyes anxiously that way. Was
it Buell—was it Nelson coming to the rescue?
ARRIVAL OF GENERAL BUELL.
The eyes of those weary soldiers brighten. Their courage revived. Help
was near. Even in that lurid atmosphere they could see the gleaming of
the gun-barrels amid the leaves and undergrowth down the opposite side
of the river. They caught hopeful glimpses of the steady, swinging tramp
of trained soldiers. A division of Buell’s army was coming up.
Then came a boat across with a lieutenant and two or three privates of
the Signal Corps. Some orders were given the officer, and as instantly
telegraphed to the other side by the mysterious wavings and raisings and
droppings of the flags. A steamer came up with pontoons on board, with
which a bridge could be speedily thrown across the river.
She quietly reconnoitered a few moments, and steamed back again.
Perhaps, after all, it was better to have no bridge there. It made
escape impossible, and left nothing but victory or death to the
struggling Union troops. Preparations were rapidly made for crossing
General Nelson’s division, (for he had the advance of Buell’s army,) on
the dozen transports that had been tied up along the bank.
The division of W. H. L. Wallace held the enemy at bay in his last
desperate effort to break the Union lines. While forcing through a
cross-fire, General Wallace fell mortally wounded. Brigadier-General
McArthur took the command, but he too was wounded, and Colonel Tuttle,
as senior in rank, rallied the shattered brigades. He was joined by the
Thirteenth Iowa, Colonel Crooker; Ninth Illinois, Colonel Mersy; Twelfth
Illinois, Lieutenant-Colonel Chatlain, and several other fragments of
regiments, and forming them in line on the road, held the enemy in check
until that noble line was formed that breasted that last desperate
charge.
At this critical moment a long, loud shout from the Union forces
welcomed in the reinforcements. Eight thousand strong had at length
crossed the river, and swept down upon the battle-field. Buell and
Nelson, by forced marches, made within sound of the booming thunders of
artillery, reached the battle-field just as the fate of war trembled in
the balance. There was no pause for rest or council. So eager were they
for the strife, they scarcely paused for breath before a line of battle
was formed which decided that stormy day’s fight.
The men, weary from the long march, and panting from the speed which had
marked its last stages, ranged themselves in advance of the exhausted,
but unfaltering troops of Sherman, McClernand, Hurlbut and of W. H. L.
Wallace, who lay dying on the battle-field, while Colonel Tuttle led his
brigades to their noble work.