Gettysburg--Fourth Day--Incidents of the Battle--Sketch of Dessausure,
McLeod, and Salmonds.
A flag of truce now waves over both armies, granting a respite to bury
the dead and care for the wounded. The burial of the dead killed in
battle is the most trying of all duties of the soldier. Not that he
objects to paying these last sad rites to his fallen comrades, but it
is the manner in which he must leave them with his last farewell.
A detail from each company is formed into a squad, and armed with
spades or shovels they search the field for the dead. When found a
shallow pit is dug, just deep enough to cover the body, the blanket is
taken from around the person, his body being wrapped therein, laid
in the pit, and sufficient dirt thrown upon it to protect it from the
vultures. There is no systematic work, time being too precious, and
the dead are buried where they fell. Where the battle was fierce and
furious, and the dead lay thick, they were buried in groups. Sometimes
friendly hands cut the name and the company of the deceased upon the
flap of a cartridge box, nail it to a piece of board and place at, the
head, but this was soon knocked down, and at the end of a short time
all traces of the dead are obliterated.
The wounded were gathered in the various farm houses, and in the city
of Gettysburg. Those who were too badly wounded to be moved were left
in charge of Surgeons, detailed by the Medical Directors to remain
with the wounded. Surgeons in the discharge of their duties are never
made prisoners, and the yellow flag flies as much protection as the
white. A guard is placed around the hospitals to prevent those who
may convalesce while there from escaping, but notwithstanding this
vigilance many made their escape and came south, as the soldiers had
a horror of the Federal prison pen. Ambulances and empty wagons were
loaded to their full capacity with the wounded, unable to walk,
while hundreds with arms off, or otherwise wounded as not to prevent
locomotion, "hit the dust," as the soldiers used to say, on their long
march of one hundred and fifty miles to Staunton, Va.
The Confederate forces numbered in the battles around Gettysburg
on May 31st, 75,000, including Pickett's Division. The Federals had
100,000 ready and equipped for action, divided in seven army corps,
under General Doubleday commanding First Corps, General Hancock Second
Corps, General Sickles Third Corps, General Sykes Fifth Corps, General
Sedgwick Sixth Corps, General Howard Eleventh Corps, General Slocum
Twelfth Corps, and three divisions of cavalry under Pleasanton. The
Confederate losses were: Longstreet, 7,539; Ewell, 5,973; A.P. Hill,
6,735; Cavalry under Stuart, 1,426; in all 21,643. Enemy's loss,
23,049.
I herewith give sketches of Colonel Dessausure and Major McLeod,
killed in action, and of Doctor Salmond, Brigade Surgeon. As the
latter acted so gallantly, and showed such generous impulses during
and after the engagement, I think it a fitting moment to give here a
brief sketch of his life.
* * * * *
COLONEL WILLIAM DAVIE DESSAUSURE OF THE THIRTEENTH.
Colonel Dessausure was certainly the Bayard of South Carolina, having
served during his entire manhood, with little exception, amid the
exciting, bustling scenes of army life. He was a hero of both the
Mexican and Civil wars, and served in the Old Army for many years on
the great Western Plains. A friend of his, an officer in his command
who was very close to the Colonel, writes me a letter, of which I
extract the following:
"In my judgment, he was the superior of Kershaw's fine set of
Colonels, having, from nature, those rare qualities that go to make up
the successful war commander, being reticent, observant, far-seeing,
quick, decided, of iron will, inspiring confidence in his leadership,
cheerful, self-possessed, unaffected by danger, and delighting like
a game cock in battle. He was singularly truth loving and truth
speaking, and you could rely with confidence on the accuracy of his
every statement. He understood men, was clear sighted, quick and
sound of judgment, and seemed never to be at a loss what to do in
emergencies. He exposed himself with reckless courage, but protected
his men with untiring concern and skill. He was rather a small man,
physically, but his appearance and bearing were extremely martial, and
had a stentorian voice that could be heard above the din of battle."
Colonel Dessausure was born in Columbia, S.C., December 12th, 1819,
was reared and educated there, graduated at the South Carolina
College, and studied law in the office of his father, Hon. Win. F.
Dessausure. He raised a company in Columbia for the Mexican war, and
served through that war as Captain of Company H, Palmetto Regiment.
After that he was commissioned Captain of Cavalry, and assigned to
General (then Colonel) Joseph K. Johnston's Regiment in the United
States Army, and served on the Plains until the Civil war commenced,
when he resigned, returned to his native State and organized the
Fifteenth Regiment, and was assigned to Drayton's Brigade, then on the
coast.
After the Seven Days' Battle around Richmond he went with his
Regiment, as a part of Drayton's Brigade, in the first Maryland
campaign. On Lee's return to Virginia, just before the Fredericksburg
battle, his regiment was assigned to Kershaw.
The papers promoting him to the rank of Brigadier General were in the
hands of the Secretary of War at the time he was killed. He was buried
in a private cemetery near Breane's Tavern, in Pennsylvania, and his
body removed to the family burying ground after the war.
He was married to Miss Ravenel of Charleston, who survived him some
years.
* * * * *
DONALD MCDIARMID MCLEOD
Was descended from Scotch ancestors who immigrated to this country
about 1775 and settled in Marlboro District, near Hunt's Bluff, on Big
Pee Dee River. He was son of Daniel McLeod and Catherine Evans McLeod.
He graduated from the South Carolina College about 1853, and for some
time engaged in teaching school in his native county; then married
Miss Margaret C. Alford and engaged in planting near where he was
born. He was then quietly leading a happy and contented life when
South Carolina seceded. When the toscin of war sounded he raised the
first company of volunteers in Marlboro and was elected Captain of it.
This company, with another from Marlboro organized about the same time
under Captain J.W. Hamington, formed part of the Eighth Regiment, of
Kershaw's Brigade. Capt. McLeod was of commanding presence, being
six feet four inches tall, erect, active, and alert, beloved by his
company, and when the test came proved himself worthy of their love
and confidence. On the field of battle his gallantry was conspicuous,
and he exhibited undaunted courage, and was faithful to every trust.
At the reorganization of the Regiment he was elected Major and
served as such through the battles of Savage Station, Malvern Hill,
Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg. In the
last named he was killed while gallantly leading the Regiment in the
desperate charge on the enemy's twenty pieces of artillery, in the
celebrated peach orchard, where in a few minutes the Eighth Regiment,
being on the left of the Brigade, without support, assailed in front
and flanked, lost one hundred and eleven of the one hundred and
seventy who were engaged in the battle. Of this number twenty-eight
were killed and buried on the field of battle. Notwithstanding this
slaughter the Old Eighth never faltered, but with the other regiments
drove the enemy from the field, pursuing them upon the rugged slopes
of Round Top Hill. Thus ended the life of one of the noblest and most
devoted of Carolina's sons.
* * * * *
DR. T.W. SALMOND
Was born in Camden, S.C., on 31st of August, 1825. Received his
diploma from the Medical College, in Charleston, S.C., in 1849.
Practiced medicine in Camden till the war came on. Married first,
Miss Mary Whitaker, afterwards Miss Isabel Scota Whitaker. He had
two daughters, one by each marriage. When the troops were ordered to
Charleston, he left with General Kershaw as Surgeon of his regiment.
General Kershaw was Colonel of the Second South Carolina Regiment. His
regiment was at the bombardment of Sumter. His staff consisted of
Dr. T.W. Salmond, Surgeon; Fraser, Quarter-Master; J.I. Villipigue,
Commissary; A.D. Goodwyn, Adjutant.
At the reorganization of the Brigade, Dr. Salmond was promoted to
Brigade Surgeon and was in all of the battles in Virginia. He went
with General Kershaw to Tennessee and came home when General Kershaw
went back to Virginia, owing to ill health in the spring of 1864.
He resumed his practice after the war and continued till his death,
August 31st, 1869.
I give below a short sketch concerning the Brigade Surgeon, copied
from a local paper, as showing the kind of metal of which Dr. Salmond
was made:
To the Editor of The Kershaw Gazette:
I never look upon a maimed soldier of the "Lost Cause," who fought
manfully for the cause which he deemed to be right, without being
drawn towards him with I may say brotherly love, commingled with
the profoundest respect. And I beg space in your valuable columns to
relate an incident in connection with the battle of Gettysburg, which,
I think, will equal the one between General Hagood and the Federal
officer, Daley.
In that memorable battle, whilst we were charging a battery of sixteen
pieces of artillery, when great gaps were being made in the lines by
the rapid discharge of grape and canister, when the very grass beneath
our feet was being cut to pieces by these missiles of death, and it
looked as if mortal men could not possibly live there; Capt. W.Z.
Leitner of our town was shot in the midst of this deadly shower at the
head of his company. When his comrades were about to remove him from
the field he said, "Men I am ruined but never give up the battle. I
was shot down at the head of my company, and I would to God that I
was there yet." He refused to let them carry him off the field. Dr.
Salmond, then Brigade Surgeon of Kershaw's Brigade, learning that his
friend Captain Leitner was seriously wounded, abandoned his post at
the infirmary, mounted his horse and went to the field where Captain
Leitner lay, amid the storm of lead and iron, regardless of the
dangers which encompassed him on every hand. He placed Captain Leitner
on his horse, and brought him off the field. The writer of this was
wounded severely in this charge, and while he was making his way as
best he could to the rear, he met the Brigade Surgeon on his mission
of mercy to his fallen friend, ordering those to the front who were
not wounded, as he went along. Brave man, he is now dead. Peace to his
ashes. As long as I live, I shall cherish his memory and think of this
circumstance.
A Member of the Old Brigade.
Taken from Kershaw Gazette of February 26, 1880.
Judge Pope gives me several instances of devotion and courage during
the Gettysburg campaign, which I take pleasure in inserting.
* * * * *
"DID THE NEGROES WISH FREEDOM?"
I have listened to much which has been said and written as to the
aspiration of the negroes for freedom while they were slaves, but much
that I saw myself makes me doubt that this aspiration was general.
Let me relate an instance that fell under my immediate observation. An
officer had lost his bodyservant in May, 1863, when he mentioned the
fact to some of the gentlemen of the and regiment, the reply was made:
"There is a mess in Company A or I of the Third Regiment who have an
excellent free negro boy in their employment, but they must give him
up and no doubt you can get him." I saw the soldiers they referred
to and they assured me that they would be glad if I would take the
servant off their hands. The result was the servant came to me and
I hired him. Soon afterwards we began the march to the Valley of
Virginia, then to Maryland and Pennsylvania. The servant took care of
my horse, amongst his other duties. Having been wounded at Gettysburg
and placed in a wagon to be transported to Virginia this boy would
ride the horse near by the wagon, procuring water and something to
eat. As the caravan of wagons laden with wounded soldiers was drawing
near to Hagerstown, Maryland, a flurry was discovered and we were told
the Yankees were capturing our train. At this time the servant came
up and asked me what he should do. I replied, "Put the Potomac River
between you and the Yankees." He dashed off in a run. When I reached
the Potomac River I found William there with my horse. The Yankees
were about to attack us there. I was to be found across the river. I
said to William, "What can you do?" He replied that he was going to
swim the horse across the Potomac River, but said he himself could not
swim. I saw him plunge into the river and swim across. The soldiers
who were with me were sent from Winchester to Staunton, Virginia.
While in Staunton, I was assured that I would receive a furlough at
Richmond, Virginia, so William was asked if he wished to accompany
me to South Carolina. This seemed to delight him. Before leaving
Staunton, the boy was arrested as a runaway slave, being owned by
a widow lady in Abbeville County. The servant admitted to me, when
arrested, that he was a slave. A message was sent to his mistress how
he had behaved while in my employment--especially how he had fled from
the Yankees in Pennsylvania and Maryland. This was the last time
I ever saw him. Surely a desire for freedom did not operate very
seriously in this case, when the slave actually ran from it.
In parting I may add that, left to themselves negroes are very
kind-hearted, and even now I recall with lively pleasure the many
kindnesses while I was wounded, from this servant, who was a slave.
* * * * *
HE WOULD FIGHT.
Why is it that memory takes us away back into our past experiences
without as much saying, "With your leave, sir"? Thirty-six years ago
I knew a fine fellow just about eighteen years old and to-day he comes
back to us so distinctly! He was a native of Newberry and when the
war first broke out he left Newberry College to enlist as a private
in Company E of the Third South Carolina Infantry. With his fine
qualities of head and heart, it was natural that he should become a
general favorite--witty, very ready, and always kind. His was a brave
heart, too. Still he was rather girlish in appearance, for physically
he was not strong. This latter condition may explain why he was called
to act as Orderly at Regimental Headquarters when J.E. Brown gave up
that position for that of courier with General Longstreet early in
the year 1863. Just before the Third Regiment went into action at
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and while preparing for that event, it
became necessary, under general orders, that the field and staff
of the regiment should dismount. It was the habit during battles to
commit the horses to the control of the Regimental Orderly. On this
occasion the Adjutant said to young Sligh: "Now, Tom, get behind some
hill and the moment we call you, bring up the horses; time is often
of importance." To the Adjutant's surprise Sligh burst into tears and
besought that officer not to require him to stay behind, but on the
contrary, to allow him to join his company and go into battle. At
first this was denied, but so persistent was he in his request that
the Adjutant, who was very fond of him, said: "Well Tom, for this one
time you may go, but don't ask it again." Away he went with a smile
instead of a tear. Poor fellow! The Orderly, Thomas W. Sligh, was
killed in that battle while assisting to drive back General Sickles
from the "Peach Orchard" on the 2d day of July, 1863.
* * * * *
RETURN TO VIRGINIA.
At daylight on the morning of the 5th the remnant of that once grand
army turned its face southward. I say remnant, for with the loss
of near one-third its number in killed, wounded, and prisoners the
pride, prestige of victory, the feelings of invincibility, were lost
to the remainder, and the army was in rather ill condition when it
took up the retreat. Lee has been severely criticised for fighting the
battle of Gettysburg, especially the last charge of Pickett; but there
are circumstances of minor import sometimes that surround a commander
which force him to undertake or attempt that which his better judgment
might dictate as a false step. The world judges by results the
successes and achievements of a General, not by his motives or
intentions. Battles, however, are in a great measure but series
of accidents at best. Some unforeseen event or circumstance in the
battles of Napoleon might have changed some of his most brilliant
victories to utter defeats and his grandest triumphs into disastrous
routs. Had not General Warren seen the open gap at little Round Top,
and had it been possible for Federal troops to fill it up, or that
Hancock had been one hour later, or that our troops had pushed through
the gorge of little Round Top before seen by Warren and gained Meade's
rear--suppose these, and many other things, and then reflect what
momentous results depended upon such trivial circumstances, and we
will then fail to criticise Lee. His chances were as good as Meade's.
The combination of so many little circumstances, and the absence of
his cavalry, all conduced to our defeat.
Hill took the lead, Longstreet followed, while Ewell brought up the
rear. Our wagon trains had gone on, some of them the day before,
towards Williamsport. Kilpatrick made a dash and captured and
destroyed a goodly number of them, but the teamsters, non-combatants
and the wounded succeeded in driving them off after some little
damage.
Along down the mountain sides, through gorges and over hills, the
army slowly made its way. No haste, no confusion. The enemy's cavalry
harassed over rear, but did little more. Meade had had too severe a
lesson to hover dangerously close on the heels of Lee, not knowing
what moment the wily Confederate Chieftain might turn and strike him a
blow he would not be able to receive. The rain fell in torrents, night
and day. The roads were soon greatly cut up, which in a measure was to
Lee's advantage, preventing the enemy from following him too closely,
it being almost impossible to follow with his artillery and wagons
after our trains had passed. We passed through Fairfield and
Hagerstown and on to Williamsport. Near Funkstown we had some
excitement by being called upon to help some of Stuart's Cavalry, who
were being hard pressed at Antietam Creek.
After remaining in line of battle for several hours, on a rocky
hillside, near the crossing of a sluggish stream, and our pickets
exchanging a few shots with those of the enemy, we continued our
march. On the night of the 6th and day of the 7th our army took up a
line of battle in a kind of semi-circle, from Williamsport to Falling
Waters. The Potomac was too much swollen from the continuous rains to
ford, and the enemy having destroyed the bridge at Falling Waters we
were compelled to entrench ourselves and defend our numerous trains of
wagons and artillery until a bridge could be built. In the enclosure
of several miles the whole of Lee's army, with the exception of some
of his cavalry, were packed. Here Lee must have been in the most
critical condition of the war, outside of Appomattox. Behind him was
the raging Potomac, with a continual down-pour of rain, in front was
the entire Federal army. There were but few heights from which to
plant our batteries, and had the enemy pressed sufficiently near to
have reached our vast camp with shells, our whole trains of ordnance
would have been at his mercy. We had no bread stuff of consequence in
the wagons, and only few beef cattle in the enclosure. For two days
our bread supply had been cut off. Now had such conditions continued
for several days longer, and a regular siege set in, Lee would have
had to fight his way out. Lumber was difficult to obtain, so some
houses were demolished, and such planks as could be used in the
construction of boats were utilized, and a pontoon bridge was soon
under way.
In this dilemma and strait an accident in the way of a "wind fall" (or
I might more appropriately say, "bread fall") came to our regiment's
relief. Jim George, a rather eccentric and "short-witted fellow," of
Company C, while plundering around in some old out-buildings in our
rear, conceived the idea to investigate a straw stack, or an old house
filled with straw. After burrowing for some time away down in the
tightly packed straw, his comrades heard his voice as he faintly
called that he had struck "ile." Bounding out from beneath the
straw stack, he came rushing into camp with the news of his find. He
informed the Colonel that he had discovered a lot of flour in barrels
hidden beneath the straw. The news was too good to be true, and
knowing Jim's fund of imagination, few lent ear to the story, and most
of the men shook their heads credulously. "What would a man want
to put flour down in a straw stack for when no one knew of 'Lee's
coming?'" and, moreover, "if they did, they did not know at which
point he would cross." Many were the views expressed for and against
the idea of investigating further, until "Old Uncle" Joe Culbreath, a
veteran of the Mexican War, and a lieutenant in Jim George's company,
said: "Boys, war is a trying thing; it puts people to thinking, and
these d----n Yankees are the sharpest rascals in the world. No doubt
they heard of our coming, and fearing a raid on their smoke houses,
they did not do like us Southern people would have done--waited until
the flour was gone before we thought of saving it--so this old
fellow, no doubt, put his flour there for safety." That settled it.
"Investigate" was the word, and away went a crowd. The straw was soon
torn away, and there, snugly hidden, were eight or ten barrels of
flour. The Colonel ordered an equal division among the regiment,
giving Jim an extra portion for himself.
By the 13th the bridge was completed, and the waters had so far
subsided that the river was fordable in places. An hour after dark we
took up the line of march, and from our camp to the river, a distance
of one mile or less, beat anything in the way of marching that human
nature ever experienced. The dust that had accumulated by the armies
passing over on their march to Gettysburg was now a perfect bog, while
the horses and vehicles sinking in the soft earth made the road appear
bottomless. We would march two or three steps, then halt for a moment
or two; then a few steps more, and again the few minutes' wait. The
men had to keep their hands on the backs of their file leaders to tell
when to move and when to halt. The night being so dark and rainy, we
could not see farther than "the noses on our faces," while at every
step we went nearly up to our knees in slash and mud. Men would stand
and sleep--would march (if this could be called marching) and sleep.
The soldiers could not fall out of ranks for fear of being hopelessly
lost, as troops of different corps and divisions would at times be
mingled together. Thus we would be for one hour moving the distance
of a hundred paces, and any soldier who has ever had to undergo such
marching, can well understand its laboriousness. At daybreak we
could see in the gloomy twilight our former camp, almost in hollering
distance. Just as the sun began to peep up from over the eastern
hills, we came in sight of the rude pontoon bridge, lined from one end
to the other with hurrying wagons and artillery--the troops at opened
ranks on either side. If it had been fatiguing on the troops, what
must it have been on the poor horses and mules that had fasted for
days and now drawing great trains, with roads almost bottomless? It
was with a mingled feeling of delight and relief that the soldiers
reached the Virginia side of the river--but not a murmur or harsh word
for our beloved commander--all felt that he had done what was best for
our country, and it was more in sorrow and sympathy that we beheld his
bowed head and grief-stricken face as he rode at times past the moving
troops.
General Pettigrew had the post of rear guard. He, with his brave
troops, beat back the charge after charge of Kirkpatrick's Cavalry as
they attempted to destroy our rear forces. It was a trying time to
the retreating soldiers, who had passed over the river to hear their
comrades fighting, single-handed and alone, for our safety and their
very existence, without any hope of aid or succor. They knew they
were left to be lost, and could have easily laid down their arms and
surrendered, thus saving their lives; but this would have endangered
Lee's army, so they fought and died like men. The roar of their
howitzers and the rattle of their musketry were like the blasts of the
horn of Roland when calling Charlemagne to his aid along the mountain
pass of Roncesvalles, but, unlike the latter, we could not answer
our comrades' call, and had only to leave them alone to "die in their
glory." The brave Pettigrew fell while heading his troops in a charge
to beat back some of the furious onslaughts of the enemy. The others
were taken prisoners, with the exception of a few who made their
escape by plunging in the stream and swimming across.
At first our march was by easy stages, but when Lee discovered the
enemy's design of occupying the mountain passes along the Blue Ridge
to our left, no time was lost. We hastened along through Martinsburg
and Winchester, across the Shenandoah to Chester Gap, on the Blue
Ridge. We camped at night on the top of the mountain.
Here an amusing, as well as ludicrous, scene was enacted, but not so
amusing to the participants however. Orders had been given when on
the eve of our entrance into Maryland, that "no private property of
whatever description should be molested." As the fields in places were
enclosed by rail fences, it was strictly against orders to disturb any
of the fences. This order had been religiously obeyed all the
while, until this night on the top of the Blue Ridge. A shambling,
tumble-down rail fence was near the camp of the Third South Carolina,
not around any field, however, but apparently to prevent stock from
passing on the western side of the mountain. At night while the troops
lay in the open air, without any protection whatever, only what the
scrawny trees afforded, a light rain came up. Some of the men ran to
get a few rails to make a hurried bivouac, while others who had gotten
somewhat damp by the rain took a few to build a fire. As the regiment
was formed in line next morning, ready for the march, Adjutant Pope
came around for company commanders to report to Colonel Nance's
headquarters. Thinking this was only to receive some instructions as
to the line of march, nothing was thought of it until met by those
cold, penetrating, steel-gray eyes of Colonel Nance. Then all began
to wonder "what was up." He commenced to ask, after repeating the
instructions as to private property, whose men had taken the rails. He
commenced with Captain Richardson, of Company A.
"Did your men take any rails?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you have them put back?"
"Yes, sir."
"Captain Gary, did your men use any rails?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you have them replaced?"
"No, sir."
And so on down to Company K. All admitted that their men had taken
rails and had not put them back, except Captain Richardson. Then such
a lecture as those nine company commanders received was seldom heard.
To have heard Colonel Nance dilate upon the enormity of the crime
of "disobedience to orders," was enough to make one think he had
"deserted his colors in the face of the enemy," or lost a battle
through his cowardice. "Now, gentlemen, let this never occur again.
For the present you will deliver your swords to Adjutant Pope, turn
your companies over to your next officer in command, and march in rear
of the regiment until further orders." Had a thunder bolt fallen, or
a three hundred-pound Columbiad exploded in our midst, no greater
consternation would they have caused. Captain Richardson was
exhonorated, but the other nine Captains had to march in rear of the
regiment during the day, subject to the jeers and ridicule of all the
troops that passed, as well as the negro cooks. "Great Scott, what
a company of officers!" "Where are your men?" "Has there been a
stampede?" "Got furloughs?" "Lost your swords in a fight?" were some
of the pleasantries we were forced to hear and endure. Captain Nance,
of Company G, had a negro cook, who undertook the command of the
officers and as the word from the front would come down the line to
"halt" or "forward" or "rest," he would very gravely repeat it, much
to the merriment of the troops next in front and those in our rear.
Near night, however, we got into a brush with the enemy, who were
forcing their way down along the eastern side of the mountain, and
Adjutant Pope came with our swords and orders to relieve us from
arrest. Lieutenant Dan Maffett had not taken the matter in such good
humor, and on taking command of his company, gave this laconic order,
"Ya hoo!" (That was the name given to Company C.) "If you ever touch
another rail during the whole continuance of the war, G----d d----n
you, I'll have you shot at the stake."
"How are we to get over a fence," inquired someone.
"Jump it, creep it, or go around it, but death is your portion, if you
ever touch a rail again."
On the 13th of August the whole army was encamped on the south side of
the Rapidan. We were commencing to settle down for several months of
rest and enjoy a season of furloughs, as it was evident neither side
would begin active operations until the armies were recruited up
and the wounded returned for duty. This would take at least several
months. But, alas! for our expectations--a blast to our fondest
dreams--heavy fighting and hard marching was in store for our corps.
Bragg was being slowly driven out of Tennessee and needed help; the
"Bull Dog of the Confederacy" was the one most likely to stay the
advancing tide of Rosecrans' Army.
* * * * *