The Battle of Chickamauga.
As I have already said, this was a lovely country--a picturesque
valley nestling down among the spurs of the mountain, with the now
classic Chickamauga winding its serpentine way along with a sluggish
flow. It was also a lovely day; nature was at her best, with the
fields and woods autumn tinged--the whole country rimmed in the golden
hue of the Southern summer. The battling ground chosen, or rather say
selected by fate, on which the fierce passions of men were to decide
the fortunes of armies and the destiny of a nation, was rolling,
undulating, with fields of growing grain or brown stubble, broken by
woods and ravines, while in our front rose the blue tinted sides of
Mission Ridge.
Both commanders were early in the saddle, their armies more evenly
matched in numbers and able Lieutenants than ever before, each willing
and anxious to try conclusions with the other--both confident of
success and watchful of the mistakes and blunders of their opponent,
ready to take advantage of the least opportunity that in any way would
lead to success. The armies on either side were equally determined and
confident, feeling their invincibility and the superiority of their
respective commanders. Those of the North felt that it was impossible
for the beaten Confederates to stand for a moment, with any hope
of triumph, before that mighty machine of armed force that had been
successfully rolling from the Ohio to the confines of Georgia. On the
other hand, the Army of Tennessee felt that, with the aid from Joe
Johnston, with Buckner, and the flower of Lee's Army to strengthen
their ranks, no army on earth could stay them on the battlefield.
The plan of battle was to swing the whole army forward in a wheel,
Preston's Division on Longstreet's extreme left being the pivot, the
right wing to break the enemy's lines and uncover the McFarland and
Rossville Gaps, thus capturing the enemy's lines of communication to
Chattanooga.
The Union Army was well protected by two lines of earthworks and log
obstructions, with field batteries at every salient, or scattered
along the front lines at every elevation, supported by the pieces of
position on the ridges in rear.
The Confederate commander made no secret of his plan of battle, for it
had been formulated three days before, and his manoeuvers on the 18th
and 19th indicated his plan of operations. Early in the morning Bragg
saluted his adversary with thirty pieces of artillery from his right
wing, and the Federal Commander was not slow in acknowledging the
salutation. The thunder of these guns echoed along the mountain sides
and up and down the valleys with thrilling effect. Soon the ridges in
our front were one blaze of fire as the infantry began their movements
for attack, and the smoke from the enemy's guns was a signal for our
batteries along the whole line.
The attack on the right was not as prompt as the commander in chief
had expected, so he rode in that direction and gave positive orders
for the battle to begin. General D.H. Hill now ordered up that paladin
of State craft, the gallant Kentuckian and opponent of Lincoln for the
Presidency, General John C. Breckenridge, and put him to the assault
on the enemy's extreme left. But one of his brigade commanders being
killed early in the engagement, and the other brigades becoming
somewhat disorganized by the tangled underbrush, they made but little
headway against the enemy's works. Then the fighting Irishman, the
Wild Hun of the South, General Pat Cleburn, came in with his division
on Breckenridge's left, and with whoop and yell he fell with reckless
ferocity upon the enemy's entrenchments. The four-gun battery of the
Washington (Louisiana) Artillery following the column of Assault,
contended successfully with the superior metal of the three batteries
of the enemy. The attack was so stubborn and relentless that the enemy
was forced back on his second line, and caused General Thomas to call
up Negley's Division from his reserves to support his left against
the furious assaults of Breckenridge and Cleburn. But after somewhat
expending their strength in the first charge against the enemy's
works, and Federal reinforcements of infantry and artillery coming up,
both Confederate divisions were gradually being forced back to their
original positions. Deshler's Brigade, under that prince of Southern
statesmen, Roger Q. Mills, supported by a part of Cheatham's Division,
took up Cleburn's battle, while the division under General States R.
Gist (of South Carolina), with Liddell's, of Walker's Corps, went to
the relief of Breckenridge. Gist's old Brigade (South Carolina) struck
the angle of the enemy's breastworks, and received a galling fire
from enfilading lines. But the other brigades of Gist's coming up
and Liddell's Division pushing its way through the shattered and
disorganized ranks of Breckenridge, they made successful advance,
pressing the enemy back and beyond the Chattanooga Road.
Thomas was again reduced to the necessity of calling for
reinforcements, and so important was it thought that this ground
should be held, that the Union commander promised support, even to the
extent of the whole army, if necessary.
But eleven o'clock had come and no material advantage had been
gained on the right. The reinforcements of Thomas having succeeded in
checking the advance of Gist and Liddell, the Old WarHorse on the left
became impatient, and sent word to Bragg, "My troops can break the
lines, if you care to have them broken." What sublime confidence
did Lee's old commander of the First Corps have in the powers of his
faithful troops! But General Bragg, it seems, against all military
rules or precedent, and in violation of the first principles of army
ethics, had already sent orders to Longstreet's subalterns, directly
and not through the Lieutenant General's headquarters, as it should
have been done, to commence the attack. General Stewart, with his
division of Longstreet's right, was at that moment making successful
battle against the left of the Twentieth and right of Twenty-first
Corps. This attack so near to Thomas' right, caused that astute
commander to begin to be as apprehensive of his right as he had been
of his left flank, and asked for support in that quarter. Longstreet
now ordered up the gallant Texan, General Hood, with his three
brigades, with Kershaw's and Humphreys in close support. Hood
unmercifully assailed the column in his front, but was as unmercifully
slaughtered, himself falling desperately wounded. Benning's Brigade
was thrown in confusion, but at this juncture Kershaw and Humphreys
moved their brigades upon the firing line end commenced the advance.
In front of these two brigades was a broad expanse of cultivated
ground, now in stubble. Beyond this field was a wooded declivity
rising still farther away to a ridge called Pea Ridge, on which the
enemy was posted. Our columns were under a terrific fire of shells as
they advanced through the open field, and as they neared the timbered
ridge they were met by a galling tempest of grape and canister. The
woods and underbrush shielded the enemy from view.
Law now commanding Hood's Division, reformed his lines and assaulted
and took the enemy's first lines of entrenchments. Kershaw marched
in rear of the brigade, giving commands in that clear, metallic sound
that inspired confidence in his troops. At the foot of the declivity,
or where the ground begun to rise towards the enemy's lines, was a
rail fence, and at this obstruction and clearing of it away, Kershaw
met a galling fire from the Federal sharpshooters, but not a gun had
been fired as yet by our brigade. But Humphreys was in it hot and
heavy. As we began our advance up the gentle slope, the enemy poured
volley after volley into us from its line of battle posted behind the
log breastworks. Now the battle with us raged in earnest.
Bushrod Johnson entered the lists with his division, and routed the
enemy in his front, taking the first line of breastworks without much
difficulty. Hindman's Division followed Johnson, but his left and rear
was assailed by a formidable force of mounted infantry which threw
Manigault's (South Carolina) Brigade on his extreme left in disorder,
the brigade being seriously rattled. But Twigg's Brigade, from
Preston's pivotal Division, came to the succor of Manigault and
succeeded in restoring the line, and the advance continued. Kershaw
had advanced to within forty paces of the enemy's line, and it seemed
for a time that his troops would be annihilated. Colonel Bland, then
Major Hard, commanding the Seventh, were killed. Lieutenant Colonel
Hoole, of the Eighth, was killed. Colonel Gist, commanding the
Fifteenth, and Captain Jennings, commanding the Third Battalion,
were dangerously wounded, while many others of the line officers had
fallen, and men were being mown down like grain before a sickle.
General Kershaw ordered his men to fall back to the little ravine a
hundred paces in rear, and here they made a temporary breastwork of
the torn down fence and posted themselves behind it. They had not long
to wait before a long line of blue was seen advancing from the crest
of the hill. The enemy, no doubt, took our backward movement as a
retreat, and advanced with a confident mien, all unconscious of our
presence behind the rail obstruction. Kershaw, with his steel-gray
eyes glancing up and down his lines, and then at the advancing line of
blue, gave the command repeatedly to "Hold your fire." When within a
very short distance of our column the startling command rang out above
the din of battle on our right and left, "Fire!" Then a deafening
volley rolled out along the whole line. The enemy halted and wavered,
their men falling in groups, then fled to their entrenchments, Kershaw
closely pursuing.
From the firing of the first gun away to the right the battle
became one of extreme bitterness, the Federals standing with unusual
gallantry by their guns in the vain hope that as the day wore on they
could successfully withstand, if not entirely repel, the desperate
assaults of Bragg until night would give them cover to withdraw.
The left wing was successful, and had driven the Federal lines back
at right angles on Thomas' right. The Federal General, Gordon Granger,
rests his title to fame by the bold movement he now made. Thomas
was holding Polk in steady battle on our right, when General Granger
noticed the Twentieth Corps was being forced back, and the firing
becoming dangerously near in the Federal's rear. General Granger,
without any orders whatever, left his position in rear of Thomas and
marched to the rescue of McCook, now seeking shelter along the slopes
of Mission Ridge, but too late to retrieve losses--only soon enough to
save the Federal Army from rout and total disaster.
But the turning point came when Longstreet ordered up a battalion of
heavy field pieces, near the angle made by the bending back of the
enemy's right, and began infilading the lines of Thomas, as well
as Crittenden's and McCook's. Before this tornado of shot and shell
nothing could stand. But with extraordinary tenacity of Thomas and the
valor of his men he held his own for a while longer.
Kershaw was clinging to his enemy like grim death from eleven o'clock
until late in the evening--his men worn and fagged, hungry and almost
dying of thirst, while the ammunition was being gradually exhausted
and no relief in sight. Hindman (Johnson on the left) had driven the
enemy back on Snodgrass Hill, where Granger's reserves were aiding
them in making the last grand struggle. Snodgrass Hill was thought to
be the key to the situation on our left, as was Horse Shoe Bend on the
right, but both were rough and hard keys to handle. Kershaw had driven
all before him from the first line of works, and only a weak fire was
coming from the second line. All that was needed now to complete the
advance was a concentrated push along the whole line, but the density
of the smoke settling in the woods, the roar of battle drowning all
commands, and the exhaustion and deflection of the rank and file made
this move impossible.
But just before the sun began dipping behind the mountains on our
left, a long line of gray, with glittering bayonets, was seen coming
down the slope in our rear. It was General Grade, with his Alabama
Brigade of Preston's Division, coming to reinforce our broken ranks
and push the battle forward. This gallant brigade was one thousand one
hundred strong and it was said this was their first baptism of fire
and blood. General Gracie was a fine specimen of physical manhood
and a finished looking officer, and rode at the head of his column.
Reaching Kershaw, he dismounted, placed the reins of his horse over
his arm, and ordered his men to the battle. The enemy could not
withstand the onslaught of these fresh troops, and gave way, pursued
down the little dell in rear by the Alabamians. The broken lines
formed on the reserves that were holding Snodgrass Hill, and made an
aggressive attack upon Gracie, forcing him back on the opposite hill.
Twigg's Brigade, of the same division, came in on the left and gave
him such support as to enable him to hold his new line.
The fire of Longstreet's batteries from the angle down Thomas'
lines, forced that General to begin withdrawing his troops from their
entrenchments, preparatory to retreat. This movement being noticed by
the commanding General, Liddell's Division on the extreme right was
again ordered to the attack, but with no better success than in the
morning. The enemy had for some time been withdrawing his trains and
broken ranks through the gaps of the mountain in the direction
of Chattanooga, leaving nothing in front of the left wing but the
reserves of Granger and those of Crittenden. These held their ground
gallantly around Snodgrass Hill, but it was a self-evident fact to all
the officers, as well as the troops, that the battle was irretrievably
lost, and they were only fighting for time, the time that retreat
could be safely made under cover of darkness. But before the sun was
fairly set, that great army was in full retreat. But long before this
it was known to the brilliant Union commander that fate had played
him false--that destiny was pointing to his everlasting overthrow.
He knew, too, that the latter part of the battle, while brief and
desperate, the lurid cloud of battle settling all around his dead and
dying, a spectre had even then arisen as from the earth, and pointing
his bony fingers at the field of carnage, whispering in his ear that
dreaded word, "Lost!"
As night closed in upon the bloody scenes of the day, the Federal
Army, that in the morning had stood proud and defiant along the crests
and gorges of the mountain ridges, was now a struggling mass of
beaten and fleeing fugitives, or groups groping their way through the
darkness towards the passes that led to Chattanooga.
Of all the great Captains of that day, Longstreet was the guiding
genius of Chickamauga. It was his masterful mind that rose equal to
the emergency, grasped and directed the storm of battle. It was by the
unparalleled courage of the troops of Hood, Humphreys, and Kershaw,
and the temporary command under Longstreet, throwing themselves
athwart the path of the great colossus of the North, that checked
him and drove him back over the mountains to the strongholds around
Chattanooga. And it is no violent assumption to say that had the
troops on the right under Polk supported the battle with as fiery zeal
as those on the left under Longstreet, the Union Army would have been
utterly destroyed and a possible different ending to the campaign, if
not in final, results might have been confidently expected.
The work of the soldier was not done with the coming of night. The
woods along the slopes where the battle had raged fiercest had caught
fire and the flames were nearing the wounded and the dead. Their calls
and piteous wails demanded immediate assistance. Soldiers in groups
and by ones and twos scoured the battlefield in front and rear,
gathering up first the wounded then the dead. The former were removed
to the field infirmaries, the latter to the new city to be built for
them--the city of the dead. The builders were already at work on
their last dwelling places, scooping out shallow graves with bayonets,
knives, and such tools that were at hand. Many pathetic spectacles
were witnessed of brother burying brother. My brother and five other
members of the company were laid side by side, wrapped only in their
blankets, in the manner of the Red Men in the legend who fought and
died here in the long, long ago. Here we left them "in all their
glory" amid the sacred stillness that now reigned over the once stormy
battlefield, where but a short while before the tread of struggling
legions, the thunder of cannon, and the roar of infantry mingled in
systematic confusion. But now the awful silence and quietude that
pervades the field after battle--where lay the dreamless sleepers of
friend and foe, victor and vanquished, the blue and the gray, with
none to sing their requiems--nothing heard save the plaintive notes of
the night bird or the faint murmurs of grief of the comrades who are
placing the sleepers in their shallow beds! But what is death to the
soldier? It is the passing of a comrade perhaps one day or hour in
advance to the river with the Pole Ferryman.
Bragg, out of a total of fifty-nine thousand two hundred and
forty-two, lost seventeen thousand eight hundred. Rosecran's total was
sixty thousand eight hundred and sixty-seven (exclusive of the losses
on the 18th and 19th). His loss on the 20th was sixteen thousand
five hundred and fifty. The greater loss of the Confederates can be
accounted for when it is remembered that they were the assaulting
party--the enemy's superior position, formidable entrenchments, and
greater amount of artillery.
The Battle of Chickamauga was one of the most sanguinary of the war,
when the number of troops engaged and the time in actual combat are
taken into consideration. In the matter of losses it stands as the
fifth greatest battle of the war. History gives no authentic record of
greater casualties in battle in the different organizations, many
of the regiments losing from fifty to fifty-seven per cent, of their
numbers, while some reached as high as sixty-eight per cent. When it's
remembered that usually one is killed out right to every five that
are wounded, some idea of the dreadful mortality on the field can be
formed.
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