forms in line of battle. The roar of musketry and artillery is
incessant. At nine o'clock we move into the cedar woods on the right to
support McCook, who is reported to be giving way. General Rousseau
points me to the place he desires me to defend, and enjoins me to "hold
it until hell freezes over," at the same time telling me that he may be
found immediately on the left of my brigade with Loomis' battery. I take
position. An open wood is in my front; but where the line is formed, and
to the right and left, the cedar thicket is so dense as to render it
impossible to see the length of a regiment. The enemy comes up directly,
and the fight begins. The roar of the guns to the right, left, and front
of my brigade sounds like the continuous pounding on a thousand anvils.
My men are favorably situated, being concealed by the cedars, while the
enemy, advancing through the open woods, is fully exposed. Early in the
action Colonel Foreman, of the Fifteenth Kentucky, is killed, and his
regiment retires in disorder. The Third Ohio, Eighty-eighth, and
Forty-second Indiana, hold the position, and deliver their fire so
effectively that the enemy is finally forced back. I find a Michigan
regiment and attach it to my command, and send a staff officer to
General Rousseau to report progress; but before he has time to return,
the enemy makes another and more furious assault upon my line. After a
fierce struggle, lasting from forty to sixty minutes, we succeed in
repelling this also. I send again to General Rousseau, and am soon after
informed that neither he nor Loomis' battery can be found. Troops are
reported to be falling back hastily, and in disorder, on my left. I send
a staff officer to the right, and ascertain that Scribner's and
Shepperd's brigades are gone. I conclude that the contingency has arisen
to which General Rousseau referred--that is to say, that hell has frozen
over--and about face my brigade and march to the rear, where the guns
appear to be hammering away with redoubled fury. In the edge of the
woods, and not far from the Murfreesboro pike, I find the new line of
battle, and take position. Five minutes after the enemy strike us. For a
time--I can not even guess how long--the line stands bravely to the
work; but the regiments on our left get into disorder, and finally
become panic-stricken. The fright spreads, and my brigade sweeps by me
to the open field in our rear. I hasten to the colors, stop them, and
endeavor to rally the men. The field is by this time covered with flying
troops, and the enemy's fire is most deadly. My brigade, however, begins
to steady itself on the colors, when my horse is shot under me, and I
fall heavily to the ground. Before I have time to recover my feet, my
troops, with thousands of others, sweep in disorder to the rear, and I
am left standing alone. Going back to the railroad, I find my men,
General Rousseau, Loomis, and, in fact, the larger part of the army. The
artillery has been concentrated at this point, and now opens upon the
advancing columns of the enemy with fearful effect, and continues its
thunders until nightfall. The artillery saved the army. The battle
during the whole day was terrific.
I find that soon after the fight began in the cedars, our division was
ordered back to a new line, and that the order had been delivered to
Scribner and Shepperd, but not to me. They had, consequently, retired to
the second position under fire, and had suffered most terribly in the
operation; while my brigade, being forgotten by the division commander,
or by the officer whose duty it was to convey the order, had held its
ground until it had twice repulsed the enemy, and then changed position
in comparative safety. A retrograde movement under fire must necessarily
be extremely hazardous. It demoralizes your own men, who can not, at the
moment, understand the purpose of the movement, while it encourages the
enemy. The one accepts it as an indication of defeat; the other as an
assurance of victory.
McCook had been surprised and shattered in the morning. This unexpected
success had inspired the rebels and dispirited us. They fought like
devils, and the victory--if victory there was to either army--belonged
to them.
When the sun went down, and the firing ceased, the Union army,
despondent, but not despairing, weary and hungry, but still hopeful, lay
on its arms, ready to renew the conflict on the morrow.
JANUARY, 1863.
1. At dawn we are all in line, expecting every moment the
re-commencement of the fearful struggle. Occasionally a battery engages
a battery opposite, and the skirmishers keep up a continual roar of
small arms; but until nearly night there is no heavy fighting. Both
armies want rest; both have suffered terribly. Here and there little
parties are engaged burying the dead, which lie thick around us. Now the
mangled remains of a poor boy of the Third is being deposited in a
shallow grave. A whole charge of canister seems to have gone through
him. Generals Rosecrans and Thomas are riding over the field, now
halting to speak words of encouragement to the troops, then going on to
inspect portions of the line. I have been supplied with a new horse, but
one far inferior to the dead stallion. A little before sun-down all hell
seems to break loose again, and for about an hour the thunder of the
artillery and volleys of musketry are deafening; but it is simply the
evening salutation of the combatants. The darkness deepens; the weather
is raw and disagreeable. Fifty thousand hungry men are stretched beside
their guns again on the field. Fortunately I have a piece of raw pork
and a few crackers in my pocket. No food ever tasted sweeter. The night
is gloomy enough; but our spirits are rising. We all glory in the
obstinacy with which Rosecrans has clung to his position. I draw closer
to the camp-fire, and, pushing the brands together, take out my little
Bible, and as I open it my eyes fall on the xci Psalm:
"I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress, my God; in Him
will I trust. Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler,
and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with His feathers,
and under His wings shall be thy trust. His truth shall be thy shield
and buckler. Thou shalt not be, afraid for the terror by night, nor for
the arrow that flieth by day; nor for the pestilence that walketh in
darkness, nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. A thousand
shall fall by thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall
not come nigh thee."
Camp-fires innumerable are glimmering in the darkness. Now and then a
few mounted men gallop by. Scattering shots are heard along the picket
line. The gloom has lifted, and I wrap myself in my blanket and lie down
contentedly for the night.
2. At sunrise we have a shower of solid shot and shell. The Chicago
Board of Trade battery is silenced. The shot roll up the Murfreesboro
pike like balls on a bowling alley. Many horses are killed. A soldier
near me, while walking deliberately to the rear, to seek a place of
greater safety, is struck between the shoulders by a ricochetting ball,
and instantly killed. We are ordered to be in readiness to repel an
attack, and form line of battle amid this fearful storm of iron.
Gaunther and Loomis get their batteries in position, and, after twenty
or thirty minutes' active work, silence the enemy and compel him to
withdraw. Then we have a lull until one or two o'clock, when Van Cleve's
division on the left is attacked. As the volume of musketry increases,
and the sound grows nearer, we understand that our troops are being
driven back, and brigade after brigade double quicks from the right and
center, across the open field, to render aid. Battery after battery goes
in the same direction on the run, the drivers lashing the horses to
their utmost speed. The thunder of the guns becomes more violent; the
volleys of musketry grow into one prolonged and unceasing roll. Now we
hear the yell which betokens encouraged hearts; but whose yell? Thank
God, it is ours! The conflict is working southward; the enemy has been
checked, repulsed, and is now in retreat. So ends another day.
The hungry soldiers cut steaks from the slain horses, and, with the
scanty supplies which have come forward, gather around the fires to
prepare supper, and talk over the incidents of the day. The prospect
seems brighter. We have held the ground, and in this last encounter have
whipped the enemy. There is more cheerful conversation among the men.
They discuss the battle, the officers, and each other, and give us now
and then a snatch of song. Officers come over from adjoining brigades,
hoping to find a little whisky, but learn, with apparent resignation
and well-feigned composure, that the canteens have been long empty; that
even the private flasks, which officers carry with the photographs of
their sweethearts, in a side pocket next to their hearts, are destitute
of even the flavor of this article of prime necessity. My much-esteemed
colleague of the court-martial, Colonel Hobart, stumbles up in the thick
darkness to pay his respects. The sentinel, mistaking him for a private,
tells him, with an oath, that this is neither the time nor place for
stragglers, and orders him back to his regiment; and so the night wears
on, and fifty thousand men lay upon their guns again.
3. Colonel Shanklin, with a strong detachment from my brigade, was
captured last night while on picket. Rifle pits are being dug, and I am
ordered to protect the workmen. The rebels hold a strip of woods in our
immediate front, and we get up a lively skirmish with them. Our men,
however, appear loth to advance far enough to afford the necessary
protection to the workers. Vexed at their unwillingness to venture out,
I ride forward and start over a line to which I desire the skirmishers
to advance, and discover, before I have gone twenty yards, that I have
done a foolish thing. A hundred muskets open on me from the woods; but
the eyes of my own brigade and of other troops are on me, and I can not
back out. I quicken the pace of my horse somewhat, and continue my
perilous course. The bullets whistle like bees about my head, but I ride
the whole length of the proposed skirmish line, and get back to the
brigade in safety. Colonel Humphrey, of the Eighty-eighth Indiana, comes
up to me, and with a tremor in his voice, which indicates much feeling,
says: "My God, Colonel, never do that again!" The caution is
unnecessary. I had already made up my mind never to do it again. We keep
up a vigorous skirmish with the enemy for hours, losing now and then a
man; but later in the day we are relieved from this duty, and retire to
a quieter place.
About nightfall General Rousseau desires me to get two regiments in
readiness, and, as soon as it becomes quite dark, charge upon and clean
out the woods in our front. I select the Third Ohio and Eighty-eighth
Indiana for this duty, and at the appointed time we form line in the
open field in front of Gaunther's battery, and as we start, the battery
commences to shell the woods. As we get nearer the objective point, I
put the men on the double quick. The rebels, discovering our approach,
open a heavy fire, but in the darkness shoot too high. The blaze of
their guns reveals their exact position to us. We reach the rude log
breastworks behind which they are standing and grapple with them.
Colonel Humphrey receives a severe thrust from a bayonet; others are
wounded, and some killed. It is pitch dark under the trees. Some of
Gaunther's shells fall short, and alarm the men. Unable to find either
staff officer or orderly, I ride back and request him to elevate his
guns. Returning, I find my troops blazing away with great energy; but,
so far as I can discover, their fire is not returned. It is difficult,
however, in the noise, confusion, and darkness, to direct their
movements, and impossible to stop the firing. In the meantime a new
danger threatens. Spear's Tennesseeans have been sent to support us,
probably without any definite instructions. They are, most of them, raw
troops, and, becoming either excited or alarmed at the terrible racket
in the woods, deliver scattering shots in our rear. I ride back and urge
them either to cease firing or move to the left, go forward and look
after our flank. One regiment does move as directed; but the others are
immovable, and it is with great difficulty that I succeed in making them
understand that in firing they are more likely to injure friends than
foes. Fortunately, soon after this, the ammunition of the Third and
Eighty-eighth becoming exhausted, the firing in the woods ceases, and,
as the enemy has already abandoned the field, the affair ends. I try to
find General Rousseau to report results, but can not; and so, worn out
with fatigue and excitement, lie down for another night.
4. Every thing quiet in our front. It is reported that the enemy has
disappeared. Investigation confirms the report, and the cavalry push
into Murfreesboro and beyond.
During the forenoon the army crosses Stone River, and with music,
banners, and rejoicings, takes possession of the old camps of the enemy.
So the long and doubtful struggle ends.
5. I ride over the battle-field. In one place a caisson and five horses
are lying, the latter killed in harness, and all fallen together.
Nationals and Confederates, young, middle-aged, and old, are scattered
over the woods and fields for miles. Poor Wright, of my old company, lay
at the barricade in the woods which we stormed on the night of the last
day. Many others lay about him. Further on we find men with their legs
shot off; one with brains scooped out with a cannon ball; another with
half a face gone; another with entrails protruding; young Winnegard, of
the Third, has one foot off and both legs pierced by grape at the
thighs; another boy lies with his hands clasped above his head,
indicating that his last words were a prayer. Many Confederate
sharpshooters lay behind stumps, rails, and logs, shot in the head. A
young boy, dressed in the Confederate uniform, lies with his face turned
to the sky, and looks as if he might be sleeping. Poor boy! what
thoughts of home, mother, death, and eternity, commingled in his brain
as the life-blood ebbed away! Many wounded horses are limping over the
field. One mule, I heard of, had a leg blown off on the first day's
battle; next morning it was on the spot where first wounded; at night it
was still standing there, not having moved an inch all day, patiently
suffering, it knew not why nor for what. How many poor men moaned
through the cold nights in the thick woods, where the first day's battle
occurred, calling in vain to man for help, and finally making their last
solemn petition to God!
In the evening I met Rousseau, McCook, and Crittenden. They had been
imbibing freely. Rousseau insisted upon my turning back and going with
them to his quarters. Crittenden was the merriest of the party. On the
way he sang, in a voice far from melodious, a pastorial ditty with which
childhood is familiar:
"Mary had a little lamb,
His fleece was white as snow,
And every-where that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go."
Evidently the lion had left the chieftain's heart, and the lamb had
entered and taken possession.
McCook complimented me by saying that my brigade fought well. He should
know, for he sat behind it at the commencement of the second assault of
the enemy in the cedars, on the first day; but very soon thereafter
disappeared. Just when he left, and why he did so, I do not know.
At Rousseau's we found a large number of staff and line officers. The
demijohn was introduced, and all paid their respects to it. The
ludicrous incidents, of which there are more or less even in battles, of
the last five days, were referred to, and much merriment prevailed.
6. The army is being reorganized, and we are busily engaged repairing
the damages sustained in the battle.
Visited the hospitals, and, so far as possible, looked after the wounded
of my brigade. To-morrow the chaplains will endeavor to hunt them all
up, and report their whereabouts and condition.
7. I was called upon late in the evening to make a report of the
operations of my brigade immediately, as General Rousseau intends to
leave for Louisville in the morning. It is impossible to collect the
information necessary in the short time allowed me. One of my regimental
commanders, Colonel Foreman, was killed; another, Colonel Humphrey, was
wounded, and is in hospital; another, Lieutenant-Colonel Shanklin, was
captured, and is absent; but I gathered up hastily what facts I could
obtain as to the casualties in the several regiments, and wrote my
report in the few minutes which remained for me to do so, and sent it
in. I have not had an opportunity to do justice either to my brigade or
myself.
13. Move in the direction of Columbia, on a reconnoitering expedition.
My brigade stops at Salem, and the cavalry pushes on.
14. Have been exposed to a drenching rain for thirty hours. The men are
cold, hungry, and mutinous.
15. Ordered back to Murfreesboro, and march thither in a storm of snow
and sleet. It is decidedly the coldest day we have experienced since
last winter.
I find two numbers of Harper's Weekly on my return. They abound in war
stories. The two heroes, of whom I read to-night, received saber cuts on
the face and head, obtained leave of absence, returned home, and married
forthwith. Saber cuts are very rare in the Army of the Cumberland, and
if young officers were compelled to defer entering into wedlock until
they got wounds of this kind, there would be precious few soldiers
married. Bullet wounds are common enough; but the hand-to-hand
encounters, knightly contests of swords, the cleaving of head-pieces and
shattering of spears, are not incidents of modern warfare.
The long rain has completely saturated the ground. The floor of my tent
is muddy; but my bed will be dry, and as I have not had my clothes off
for three days, I look forward to a comfortable night's rest.
The picture in Harper, of "Christmas Eve," will bring tears to the eyes
of many a poor fellow shivering over the camp-fire in this winter
season. The children in the crib, the stockings in which Santa Claus
deposits his treasures, recall the pleasantest night of the year.
Speaking of Christmas reminds me of the mistletoe bough. Mistletoe
abounds here. Old, leafless trees are covered and green with it. It was
in blossom a week or two ago, if we may call its white wax-like berries
blossoms. They are known as Christmas blossoms. The vine takes root in
the bark--in any crack, hole, or crevice of the tree--and continues
green all winter. The berries grow in clusters.
16. I have as guests Mr. and Mrs. Johnson House, my old neighbors. They
have come from their quiet home in Ohio to look over a battle-field, and
I take pleasure in showing them the points of interest. Mr. House, with
great frankness, tells me, in the presence of my staff, that he had been
afraid I was not qualified for the high position I hold, and that I was
getting along too fast; but he now feels satisfied that I am capable
and worthy, and would be well pleased to see me again promoted. I
introduced my friends to Lieutenant Van Pelt, of Loomis' battery, and
Mr. House asked: "Lieutenant, will these guns shoot with any kind of
decision?" "Precision," I suggested. "Yes," Van Pelt replied, "they will
throw a ball pretty close to the mark."
17. Dr. Peck tells me that the wounded of the Third are doing well, and
all comfortably quartered. He is an excellent physician and surgeon, and
the boys are well pleased with him.
FEBRUARY, 1863.
3. This has been the coldest day of the season in this latitude. The
ground is frozen hard. I made the round of the picket line after dinner,
and was thoroughly chilled. Visited the hospital this evening. Young
Willets, of the Third, whom I thought getting along well before I left
for home, died two days before my return. Benedict is dead, and Glenn,
poor fellow, will go next. His leg is in a sling, and he is compelled to
lie in one position all the time. Mortification has set in, and he can
not last more than a day or two. Murfreesboro is one great hospital,
filled with Nationals and Confederates.
4. At noon cannonading began on our left and front, and continued with
intervals until sunset. I have heard no explanation of the firing, but
think it probable our troops started up the Shelbyville road to
reconnoiter, discovered the enemy, and a small fight ensued.
5. It is said the enemy came within six miles of Murfreesboro yesterday,
and attacked a forage train.
The weather has been somewhat undecided, and far from agreeable.
6. A lot of rebel papers, dated January 31st, have been brought in.
They contain many extracts clipped from the Northern Democratic press,
and the Southern soul is jubilant over the fact that a large party in
Ohio and Indiana denounce President Lincoln. The rebels infer from this
that the war must end soon, and the independence of the Southern States
be acknowledged. Our friends at home should not give aid and comfort to
the enemy. They may excite hopes which, in time, they will themselves be
compelled to help crush.
7. Few of the men who started home when I did have returned. The General
is becoming excited on the subject of absentees. From General Thomas'
corps alone there are sixteen thousand men absent, sick, pretending to
be sick, or otherwise. Of my brigade there are sixteen hundred men
present for duty, and over thirteen hundred absent--nearly one-half
away. The condition of other brigades is similar. If a man once gets
away, either into hospital or on detached duty, it is almost impossible
to get him back again to his regiment. A false excuse, backed up by the
false statement of a family physician, has hitherto been accepted; but
hereafter, I am told, it will not be. Uncle Sam can not much longer
stand the drain upon his finances which these malingerers occasion, and
his reputation suffers also, for he can not do with fifty thousand men
what it requires one hundred thousand to accomplish.
People may say Rosecrans had at the battle of Murfreesboro nearly one
hundred regiments. A regiment should contain a thousand men; in a
hundred regiments, therefore, there should have been one hundred
thousand men. With this force he should have swallowed Bragg; but they
must understand that the largest of these regiments did not contain over
five hundred men fit for duty, and very many not over three hundred. The
men in hospital, the skulkers at home, and the skedaddlers here, count
only on the muster and pay-rolls; our friends at home should remember,
therefore, that when they take a soldier by the hand who should be with
his regiment, and say to him, "Poor fellow, you have seen hard times
enough, stay a little longer, the army will not miss you," that some
other poor fellow, too brave and manly to shirk, shivers through the
long winter hours at his own post, and then through other long hours at
the post of the absentee, thus doing double duty; and they should bear
in mind, also, that in battle this same poor fellow has to fight for
two, and that battles are lost, the war prolonged, and the National arms
often disgraced, by reason of the absence of the men whom they encourage
to remain at home a day or two longer. If every Northern soldier able to
do duty would do it, Rosecrans could sweep to Mobile in ninety days; but
with this skeleton of an army, we rest in doubt and idleness. There is a
screw loose somewhere.
10. Fortifications are being constructed. My men are working on them.
Just now I heard the whistle of a locomotive, on the opposite side of
the river. This is the first intimation we have had of the completion
of the road to this point. The bridge will be finished in a day or two,
and then the trains will arrive and depart from Murfreesboro regularly.
11. Called at Colonel Wilder's quarters, and while there met General J.
J. Reynolds. He made a brief allusion to the Stalnaker times. On my
return to camp, I stopped for a few minutes at Department head-quarters
to see Garfield. General Rosecrans came into the room; but, as I was
dressed in citizens' clothes, did not at first recognize me. Garfield
said: "General Rosecrans, Colonel Beatty." The General took me by the
hand, turned my face to the light, and said he did not have a fair view
of me before. "Well," he continued, "you are a general now, are you?" I
told him I was not sure yet, and he said: "Is it uncertainty or modesty
that makes you doubt?" "Uncertainty." "Well," he replied, "you and Sam
Beatty have both been recommended. I guess it will be all right." He
invited me to remain for supper, but I declined.
16. To-day I rode over the battle-field, starting at the river and
following the enemy's line off to their left, then crossing over on to
the right of our line, and following it to the left. For miles through
the woods evidences of the terrible conflict meet one at every step.
Trees peppered with bullet and buckshot, and now and then one cut down
by cannon ball; unexploded shell, solid shot, dead horses, broken
caissons, haversacks, old shoes, hats, fragments of muskets, and unused
cartridges, are to be seen every-where. In an open space in the oak
woods is a long strip of fresh earth, in which forty-one sticks are
standing, with intervals between them of perhaps a foot. Here forty-one
poor fellows lie under the fresh earth, with nothing but the forty-one
little sticks above to mark the spot. Just beyond this are twenty-five
sticks, to indicate the last resting-place of twenty-five brave men; and
so we found these graves in the woods, meadows, corn-fields,
cotton-fields, every-where. We stumbled on one grave in a solitary spot
in the thick cedars, where the sunshine never penetrates. At the head of
the little mound of fresh earth a round stick was standing, and on the
top of this was an old felt hat; the hat still doing duty over the head,
if not on the head, of the dead soldier who lay there. The rain and sun
and growing vegetation of one summer will render it impossible to find
these graves. The grass will cover the fresh earth, the sticks will
either rot or become displaced, and then there will be nothing to
indicate that--
"Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre."
17. The army is turning its attention to politics somewhat. Generals and
colonels are ventilating their opinions through the press. I think their
letters may have good effect upon the people at home, and prevent them
from discouraging the army and crippling the Administration. Surely the
effort now being put forth by a great party in the North to convince
the troops in the field that this is an unjust war, an abolition or
nigger war, must have a tendency to injure the army, and, if persisted
in, may finally ruin it.
19. Work on the fortifications still continues. This is to be a depot of
supplies, and there are provisions enough already here to subsist the
army for a month. Now that the Cumberland is high, and the railroads in
running order, any amount of supplies may be brought through.