THE REST AT ATLANTA-STAFF ORGANIZATION AND CHANGES
Position of the Army of the Ohio at Decatur--Refitting for a new
campaign--Depression of Hood's army--Sherman's reasons for a
temporary halt--Fortifying Atlanta as a new base--Officers detailed
for the political campaign--Schofield makes inspection tour of his
department--My temporary command of the Army of the Ohio--Furloughs
and leaves of absence--Promotions of several colonels--General
Hascall resigns--Staff changes--My military family--Anecdote of
Lieutenant Tracy--Discipline of the army--Sensitiveness to approval
or blame--Illustration--Example of skirmishing advance--Sufferings
of non-combatants within our lines--A case in point--Pillaging and
its results--Citizens passing through the lines--"The rigors of the
climate"--Visit of Messrs. Hill and Foster--McPherson's death--The
loss to Sherman and to the army--His personal traits--Appointment of
his successor.
At the close of the first week in September the Army of the Ohio
encamped at Decatur, and prepared for a month's rest. My division
took position on the east of the little town, Hascall's on the
south, and our division of cavalry under Colonel Israel Garrard was
east of us, with outposts and patrols watching the roads in that
direction as far as Stone Mountain. [Footnote: Official Records,
vol. xxxviii. pt. v. p. 828.] The Army of the Cumberland was
encamped about Atlanta itself, and the Army of the Tennessee was at
East Point. As Sherman cheerily announced in general orders, we
might expect "to organize, receive pay, replenish clothing, and
prepare for a fine winter's campaign." [Footnote: _Id._, p. 801.]
It was of course probable that Hood would use the interval, which
was even more welcome to him than to us, in similar preparation for
resuming the struggle, though the resources of the Confederacy were
so strained that the Treasury was in debt to the soldiers for ten
months' pay. He told the government that "it would be of vast
benefit to have this army paid," [Footnote: Official Records, vol.
xxxviii. pt. v. p. 1027.] but this expressed his desire rather than
a hope. Depression reigned in his camps about Lovejoy's Station, of
which the name was a mockery. Dissent was rife among his general
officers, and with the whole army he had lost prestige by the costly
failure of his campaign. A period of rest might relieve the
discouragement somewhat, and stringent means were to be used to
bring absentees and conscripts to the ranks. Hardee was transferred
to Savannah; Mackall, Johnston's devoted friend, was removed from
the head of the staff, and other changes of organization were made
with a view to give Hood the men of his own choice in important
positions. [Footnote: These were mostly in accordance with Hood's
recommendations to General Bragg when the latter visited him at the
end of July. See Bragg to Davis, _Id._, vol. lii. pt. ii. p. 713.]
Sherman was fully aware that he would have many advantages in
pushing after Hood at once, but besides his army's real need of
rest, he was clear in his judgment that he must, at this stage of
affairs, prepare for a campaign on a great scale to be continued
through the winter till great results should be achieved. If the
line of operations was to be extended toward Mobile, as was
contemplated by General Grant at the opening of the campaign, or if
Hood should retreat toward the east, in either case he must make
Atlanta a fortified base. Experience had proven that his long line
of communications was liable to interruption, and would be still
more so as he penetrated further into Georgia. He must have a
well-supplied and well-protected depot in the same relations to the
next forward movement that Chattanooga had been to the campaign just
finished. He wanted to get his share of the drafted men under the
conscription law now in operation, to fill up the places of
regiments whose terms had expired, and to be assured that Canby from
New Orleans would co-operate in a settled plan. He was already
revolving in his mind other problems which Hood might possibly open
for solution; but the probability seemed strong that the Confederate
army would bar the way to his advance, and must be beaten and driven
back again. His first task, therefore, was to prepare Atlanta for
his uses. "I want it," he said, "a pure Gibraltar, and will have it
so by October 1st." [Footnote: Dispatch to Halleck, September 9th.
See also that of September 4th, in which his ideas were fully
outlined. Official Records, vol. xxxviii. pt. v. pp. 794, 839.] This
use of the town made it necessary to remove the resident citizens,
sending north those who were loyal and ordering south those who
adhered to the Confederacy. As a fortified depot must be ready for a
siege, trade and free intercourse with the surrounding country could
not go on. The inhabitants, therefore, would be dependent on the
army for food, their industries must cease, and it was more merciful
to them, as well as a military necessity, to send them away.
[Footnote: Sherman to Hood, _Id_., p. 822.]
The temporary interruption of active campaigning was eagerly seized
upon as an opportunity for leaves of absence by those whose private
and family affairs urgently called for attention. The presidential
campaign was on, and in consultation with Governor Morton of
Indiana, Secretary Stanton selected half a dozen officers from that
State, which was politically a doubtful one, to vary their labors in
the field by "stumping the State" for a month. The form of the
request indicates the feeling as to the character of the civil
contest. "In view," said the Secretary, "of the armed organizations
against the Government of the United States that have been made
throughout the State of Indiana and are now in active operation in
the campaign for Jefferson Davis, this department deems it expedient
that the officers named should have leave to go home, provided they
can be spared without injury to the service." [Footnote: Official
Records, vol. xxxviii. pt. v. p. 802. Among these appears the name
of Colonel Benjamin Harrison, 70th Indiana, afterward President.
Sherman's characteristic reply was sent from camp near Jonesboro, on
6th September: "The officers named in your dispatch of the 5th will
be ordered to report to the Governor of Indiana for special duty, as
soon as I return to Atlanta, which will be in a day or two unless
the enemy shows fight, which I am willing to accept on his own terms
if he will come outside of his cursed rifle-trenches." _Id_., p.
809. I don't recall any other instance of a regular military detail
for a political campaign.] Generals Logan and Blair also went North
for similar work in Illinois and Missouri.
In the middle of September General Schofield left the army for a
time, to visit Knoxville and Louisville, within his department, on
official business, and extended his absence for a brief reunion with
his family north of the Ohio. [Footnote: _Id_., vol. xxxix. pt. ii.
p. 379; pt. iii. p. 10.] This left me in command of the Army of the
Ohio, and Hood's later movement upon our communications prevented
Schofield's return till the end of our active campaign in October. A
liberal issue of furloughs to enlisted men, especially convalescents
in hospital, was made, so that we might get them back in robust
health and good spirits when the fall campaign should open. General
Hascall resigned and left us, and the command of his division passed
to General Joseph A. Cooper, who had been promoted from the
colonelcy of the Sixth East Tennessee. My own division was
temporarily commanded by General James W. Reilly, who had been
promoted on my recommendation from the colonelcy of the One Hundred
and Fourth Ohio. Hascall had commanded his division with marked
ability throughout the campaign, but had become discouraged by the
evidences that he need expect no recognition from the Indiana
governor, [Footnote: See _ante_, vol. i. pp. 406, 485; vol. ii. p.
253.] whose influence was potent if not omnipotent in the promotion
of Indiana officers. The recently announced promotion of Hovey over
him seemed to him equivalent to an invitation to resign, and he
acted upon it.
The resting-spell at Decatur was the natural time for such changes
in organization as had become necessary. The death of my
adjutant-general, Captain Saunders, in June, made it necessary to
fill that very important position, and my aide, Lieutenant Theodore
Cox, was promoted to it. His regiment (the Eleventh Ohio) was just
completing its term of enlistment, and he would be mustered out of
service with it, unless a new appointment were given him, fairly
won, as it had been, by two years of meritorious service. My request
was so cordially backed by Generals Schofield and Sherman that there
was no hesitation at Washington, and I secured for the rest of the
war an invaluable assistant, whose system, accuracy, and neat
methods made the business of my headquarters go on most
satisfactorily.
My inspector-general, Lieutenant-Colonel Sterling, felt obliged to
resign for business reasons connected with events in his father's
family, and I had to part with another faithful friend and able
officer. As the adjutant-general is the centre of the formal
organization, keeping its records, carrying on its correspondence,
and formulating the orders of his chief, so the inspector-general is
the organ of discipline and of soldierly instruction as well as the
superintendent of the outpost and picket duty, which makes him the
guardian of the camp and the head of the intelligence service when
no special organization of the latter is made. He should be one of
the most intelligent officers of the command, and a model of
soldierly conduct. It was no easy thing to fill Colonel Sterling's
place, but I was fortunate in the selection of Major Dow of the One
Hundred and Twelfth Illinois, a quiet, modest man, a thorough
disciplinarian of clear and strong intellect, and of that perfect
self-possession which is proof against misjudgment in the most
sudden and terrifying occurrences.
I had brought with me from East Tennessee, as my chief of artillery,
Major Wells, who had commanded an Illinois battery, and who directed
the artillery service of the division with great success. My medical
director was Surgeon-Major Frink, of Indiana, who, though he took
the position by virtue of his seniority in the division medical
staff, was as acceptable as if I had chosen him with fullest
knowledge of his qualifications. The topographer was Lieutenant
Scofield of the One Hundred and Third Ohio, educated in civil
engineering, and indefatigable in collecting the data by which to
correct the wretched maps which were our only help in understanding
the theatre of operations. He was a familiar figure at the outposts,
on his steadily ambling nag, armed with his prismatic compass, his
odometer, and his sketch-book. The division commissary of
subsistence was Captain Hentig, a faithful and competent officer who
worked in full accord with Captain Day, the energetic quartermaster
who had come with me over the mountains the preceding year.
A general officer's aides-de-camp are usually his most intimate
associates in the military family, and were sometimes selected with
too much regard to their social qualities. Those of a major-general
were appointed on his nomination, but a brigadier-general must
detail the two allowed him, from the lieutenants in his command.
When commanding a division, custom allowed him to detail a third.
They were the only officers technically called the personal staff,
the others being officers of the several staff corps, or merely
detailed from regiments to do temporary duty. Thus, no
inspector-general was allowed to a brigadier, but when commanding a
division or other organization larger than a brigade, he was
permitted to detail an officer of the line for the very necessary
and responsible duty. The aides are authorized to carry oral orders
and to explain them, to call for and to bring oral reports, and as
the general's confidential and official representatives they should
be of the most intelligent and soldierly men of their grade. All the
other staff officers may be called upon to act as aides when it is
necessary, but these are _ex officio_ the ordinary go-betweens, and,
if fit for their work, are as cordially welcomed and almost as much
at home with the brigade commanders as with their own chief.
My senior aide, after my brother's promotion, was Lieutenant
Coughlan of the Twenty-fourth Kentucky, a handsome young Irishman of
very humble origin, to whom the military service had been the
revelation of his own powers and a noble inspiration. He was lithe
and well set up, though by no means a dandy; would spring at call
for any duty, by night or by day, and delighted the more in his
work, the more perilous or arduous it was. He was captured in the
last days of our operations about Atlanta; [Footnote: Official
Records, vol. xxxviii. pt. v. p. 623.] but the exchange of prisoners
negotiated by Sherman gave me the opportunity to secure his return
after a month's captivity and imprisonment at Charleston. Two months
later he died heroically in the battle of Franklin. [Footnote:
_Id_., vol. xlv. pt. i. p. 356.]
Lieutenant Bradley of the Sixty-fifth Illinois was second on the
list, an excellent officer who was competent and ready to assist the
adjutant-general in his department when work there was pressing.
The third was Lieutenant Tracy of the One Hundred and Fourth Ohio, a
man of original character. Tall and angular, there was a little
stoop in his shoulders and a little carelessness in his dress. His
gait was a long stride, and he was not a graceful horseman. His
exterior had a good deal of the typical Yankee, and our Connecticut
Reserve in Ohio, from which he came, has as pure a strain of Yankee
blood as any in New England. But whoever looked into his sallow and
bony face was struck with the effect of his large, serious eye,
luminous with intelligence and will. Devotion to duty and perfect
trustworthiness, with zeal in acquiring military knowledge, were the
qualities which led to his selection for staff duty. When we were
preparing for the great swing of the army to the south of Atlanta,
my division had been advanced close to the enemy's position near
East Point, where, from a strong salient in their works, their line
curved back toward the east. Our position was to be the pivot of the
movement, and we intrenched the top of a forest-covered knoll
separated from the Confederate lines by a little hollow in which ran
a small affluent of Camp Creek. Our pickets were directed to advance
as close to the enemy as practicable, so that any attempt to make a
sally would be detected promptly. Tracy had been directed to
accompany the officer of the day and see that the outposts were in
proper position. Early next morning General Schofield visited me,
and desired to see in person the point most advanced. I called Tracy
for our guide, and from the trenches we went down the slope, through
the woods, on foot. A spur of the hill went forward, and as we
neared the edge of the forest Tracy signalled to go quietly.
Stooping carefully in the undergrowth, we noiselessly advanced to a
fence corner where a sentinel stood behind a tree. Halting a few
paces away, Tracy motioned to us to avoid moving the bushes, but to
approach the fence and look between the rails. Doing so, we found
the fence at the border of a little strip of hollow pasture in which
the brooklet ran, and across it on the other slope, frowning upon
us, was a formidable earthwork, an embrasure and the muzzle of a
great Columbiad looking directly at us. The enemy's sentinels had
been driven in, so that, where we looked, one was pacing his beat at
the counterscarp of the ditch. As we drew back to a distance at
which conversation was prudent, Tracy asked with a grim little smile
whether the picket line was sufficiently advanced. The whole was
characteristic of his thoroughness in the performance of duty and
his silent way of letting it speak for itself. He was struck in the
breast and knocked down by a spent ball in the assault by Reilly's
brigade at Utoy Creek on August 6th, but in a week was on duty
again, though he never wholly recovered from the injury to his
lungs. [Footnote: Being in delicate health after the war, he was
made Governor of the National Home for disabled soldiers at Dayton,
Ohio, and died in 1868 from an abscess of the lung caused by the old
injury.]
Officers were detailed from the line for other staff duty, such as
ordnance officer, commissary of musters, etc., and there was no lack
of good material. The general officer who sought for sober, zealous,
and bright young soldiers for his staff could always find them. They
were his eyes and his hands in the responsible work of a campaign,
yet their service was necessarily hidden a good deal from view, and
their opportunities for personal distinction and rapid promotion
were few compared with those of their comrades in actual command of
troops.
It was interesting to observe the rapid progress in all the
essentials of good discipline made in commands which were permanent
enough to give time for development of order and system. We were
fortunate in Sherman's army in having in himself and in the three
commanders next in rank examples of courteous treatment of
subordinates coupled with steady insistence upon the prompt and
right performance of duty. Under such a _régime_ intelligent men
grow sensitive to the slightest indication of dissatisfaction, and a
superior officer has to weigh his words lest he give more pain than
he intended. An amusing instance of this occurred during the
campaign just ended. Late one evening my division was directed to
make a movement at sunrise next day, and the camp was quiet in sleep
before my orders were sent out to the brigade commanders. He who was
assigned to lead the column was an excellent officer, but irascible,
and a little apt to make his staff officers feel the edge of any
annoyance he himself felt. Some strain of relations among his
assistants at his headquarters happened to be existing when my order
came. He had turned in for the night and was asleep when his
adjutant-general came to his tent to report the order. Not fully
aroused, he made a rough and bluff reply to the call, really meaning
that the staff officer should issue the proper orders to the
brigade, but in form it was a petulant refusal to be bothered with
the business. The adjutant took him literally at his word and left
him. Next morning I was in the saddle at the time set, and with my
staff rode to the brigade to accompany the head of the column, when,
lo, his command was not yet astir, though in the rest of the camp
breakfast was over, the tents struck, and officers and men were
awaiting the signal to fall in. I rapped with my sword-hilt on the
tent-pole, and when the dishevelled head of the colonel appeared,
his speechless astonishment told the story of some great blunder. I
did not stop for particulars, but only said, "Your brigade, colonel,
was to have had the place of honor in an important day's work; as it
is, you will fall in at the rear of the column. Good-morning, sir."
He stood, without a word, till we rode off, and then turning to an
aide who had come to him, exclaimed, "I wish to God he had cursed
me!"
In the movement upon Atlanta, after crossing the Chattahoochee, we
were not met in force till we came to Peachtree Creek and the
extension of that line southward. The country was similar in
character to that near Marietta, with openings of farming lands
along the principal roads, but probably three fourths of the country
was covered with forest. In answer to questions from home as to what
our continuous skirmishing in such advances was like, I took as a
sample the 20th of July, when we were pushing in to connect with
General Thomas's right, and he was making his way to and across
Peachtree Creek, where the battle was to rage in the latter part of
the day.
"My camp last night," I said, "was formed of three brigades in two
lines across the principal road, another brigade in reserve, and the
artillery in the intervals, all in position of battle. A strong line
of pickets and skirmishers covered the front and flanks some three
hundred yards in advance. In the morning we drew in the flanks of
the skirmish line, reducing it to about the length of one brigade
across the road, and it was ordered to advance. The men go forward,
keeping the line at right angles to the road, stopping for neither
creek nor thicket; down ravines, over the hills, the skirmishers
trotting from a big tree to a larger stone, taking advantage of
everything which will cover them, and keeping the general form of
the line and their distance from each other tolerably correct. The
main body of the troops file into the road marching four abreast,
with a battery near the leading brigade. Presently a shot is heard,
off on the right, then two or three more in quick succession, and a
bullet or two comes singing over the head of the column. 'They've
started the Johnnies,' say the boys in the ranks, and we move on,
the skirmish line still pushing right along. It proves to be only a
rebel picket which has fired and run to apprise their comrades that
the 'Yanks' are coming. Forward a few hundred yards, when, bang,
bang, and a rattle of rifles too fast to count. The column is
halted, and we ride to the skirmish line to see what is up. A pretty
strong body of 'rebs' is about some old log houses with a good
skirmish line on either side where our men must approach over two or
three hundred yards of open fields. A regiment is moved up to the
nearest cover on each side of the road, a section of artillery
rattles up to the front, the guns are smartly unlimbered and pointed
and a couple of shells go screaming into the improvised fort,
exploding and scattering logs and shingles right and left. Out run
the rebs in confusion, and forward with a rush and a hurrah go our
men over the open, getting a volley from the other side. Into the
woods they go. The rebs run; two or three are caught, perhaps, as
prisoners, two or three of ours are carried to the rear on
stretchers, and on we go again for a little way. This is light
skirmishing. Sometimes we find extemporized breastworks of rails or
fallen trees, requiring more force to dislodge the enemy, and then,
finally, we push up to well-constructed lines of defence where we
halt for slower and heavier operations."
The inhabitants within our lines about Atlanta had a hard time of
it, in spite of all efforts to mitigate their suffering. Their
unwillingness to abandon their homes was very great, and it was very
natural, for all they had was there, and to leave it was to be
beggared. They sometimes, when within range of the artillery, built
bomb-proofs near their houses, and took refuge in them, much as the
people of the Western plains seek similar protection from tornadoes.
In closing in on the west side of the town, near the head of Utoy
Creek, we took in a humble homestead where the family tried to stay,
and I find that I preserved, in another of my home letters, a
description of the place and their life there.
"Just within my lines" (this was written on August 11th), "and not
ten paces from the breastworks, stands a log house owned by an old
man named Wilson. A little before the army advanced to its present
position, several relatives of his, with their families, came to him
from homes regarded as in more imminent danger, and they united
their forces to build, or dig, rather, a place of safety. They
excavated a sort of cellar just in rear of the house, on the
hillside, digging it deep enough to make a room some fifteen feet
square by six feet high. This they covered over with a roof of
timbers, and over that they piled earth several feet thick, covering
the whole with pine boughs, to keep the earth from washing. In this
bomb-proof four families are now living, and I never felt more pity
than when, day before yesterday, I looked down into the pit, and saw
there, in the gloom made visible by a candle burning while it was
broad day above, women sitting on the floor of loose boards, resting
against each other, haggard and wan, trying to sleep away the days
of terror, while innocent-looking children, four or five years old,
clustered around the air-hole, looking up with pale faces and great
staring eyes as they heard the singing of the bullets that were
flying thick above their sheltering place. One of the women had been
bed-ridden for several years before she was carried down there. One
of the men was a cripple, the others old and gray. The men ventured
up and took a little fresh air behind the breast-works; but for the
women there is no change unless they come out at night. Still, they
cling to home because they have nowhere else to go, and they hope we
may soon pass on and leave them in comparative peace again."
In an earlier chapter I have spoken of the easy descent from careful
respect for the rights of property to reckless appropriation of what
belongs to another, to robbery and pillage. [Footnote: _Ante_, pp.
233-235.] I find an instance of it given in one of the letters I
have been quoting, which is the contemporary record of the thing
itself which we had to deal with. It occurred on July 5th, when the
whole army was in motion, hurrying past our position southeast of
Marietta and following up Johnston's retreating army. "Some soldiers
went to a house occupied only by a woman and her children, and after
robbing it of everything which they wanted, they drove away the only
milch cow the woman had. She pleaded that she had an infant which
she was obliged to bring up on the bottle, and that it could not
live unless it could have the milk. They had no ears for the appeal
and the cow was driven off. In two days the child died, of
starvation chiefly, though the end was hastened by disease induced
by the mother's trying to keep it alive on food it could not digest.
I heard of the case when the child was dead and two or three of the
neighbors were getting together stealthily to dig its grave." One of
them came to me to beg permission to assist, and to explain that the
little gathering meant nothing hostile to us. I got the facts only
by cross-questioning, for the old man was abject in his solicitude
not to seem to be complaining, and did not give the worst of the
story till my hot indignation at what I heard assured him of
sympathy and of a desire to punish the crime.
"A woman came to me the same morning, and said the cavalry had taken
the last mouthful from her, telling her they were marching and
hadn't time to draw their rations, but that she would be fed by
applying to us of the infantry column. The robbers well knew that we
were forbidden to issue rations to citizens. They sacked the house
of an old man with seven daughters by a second wife, all young
things. He came to me in utter distress--not a mouthful in that
house for twenty-four hours, their kitchen garden and farm utterly
ruined, the country behind in the same condition, and he without
means of travelling or carrying anything if he tried to move away."
I added, "Of course in such extreme cases I try to find some way of
keeping people from death, and usually send them to the rear in our
empty wagon trains going back for supplies, but their helpless
condition is very little bettered by going."
Such things were done chiefly by the professional stragglers and
skulkers, and the stringent orders which were issued in both
Sherman's and Hood's armies did not easily reach men who would not
report for duty if they could help it. The country people could not
tell who had done them the mischief, and the rascals would be gone
before the case came before any superior officer who would interest
himself in it. I must not, however, suppress the comment I made in
the letter quoted. "The evil is the legitimate outgrowth of the hue
and cry raised by our Christian people of the North against
protecting rebel property, etc. Officers were deterred from
enforcing discipline in this respect by public opinion at home, and
now the evil is past remedy. The war has been prolonged, the army
disintegrated and weakened, and the cause itself jeoparded, because
discipline was construed as friendliness to rebels." Straggling and
its accompanying evils may be said to be the gauge of discipline in
an army. There were brigades and divisions in which it hardly
occurred; there were others in which the stragglers were a
considerable fraction of the whole.
During the evacuation of Atlanta by the citizens, there was a good
deal of migration beyond our lines among those who were not
compelled to go. In Decatur applications were made to me daily, and
we kept a record of the passes we issued, trying to know the purpose
and motives of those going away, for, of course, a good deal of it
was with the intent to carry intelligence to the enemy. The reasons
given were often amusing. Two ladies applied, one day, for leave to
go to Florida, which they claimed as their home. They said they had
been visiting kinsmen in Decatur when the advance of our army
brought them within our lines before they were aware of it. When
asked why not stay with their friends till the armies should move
away, they answered that they were sure they could not endure the
rigors of the climate! The phrase became a byword at our
headquarters, where we were longing for the invigorating breezes of
the North.
We had a visit, about the middle of September, from two gentlemen of
some prominence in the public affairs of Georgia,--Mr. Hill and Mr.
Foster. They came ostensibly to seek to obtain and remove the body
of Mr. Hill's son, who had fallen in the campaign, but I suspected
that they represented Governor Brown, who was known to be in a state
of exasperation at the results to Georgia of a war begun to assert
an ultra doctrine of State rights, but which had destroyed every
semblance of State independence and created a centralized government
at Richmond which ruled with a rod of iron. Mr. Hill was the same
who had represented Governor Brown and General Johnston at Richmond
in the mission in July, [Footnote: _Ante_, p. 272.] and whilst he
did not formally present any subject except that of getting his
son's body, our conversation gave me sufficient knowledge of his
views on the subjects of controversy to make me deeply interested in
the outcome of the visit to General Sherman which I arranged for
him. [Footnote: See Sherman's Memoirs, vol. ii. p. 137.] Nothing of
present practical importance came of the interviews, but the
voluminous and bitterly controversial correspondence between the
Georgia Governor and the War Department of the Confederacy is a
curious revelation of the antagonistic influences which had sprung
up in the progress of the war. [Footnote: Official Records, vol.
lii. pt. ii. pp. 736, 754, 778, 796, 803.]
The death of General McPherson in the battle of Atlanta had been a
great loss to the army, but to Sherman it was the loss of an
intimate friend as well as an able subordinate. They had been
closely associated under Grant in all the campaigns of the Army of
the Tennessee, and their mutual attachment and confidence was as
strong as their devoted loyalty to their great chief. My own
acquaintance with McPherson had been slight, but yet enough to
enable me to understand the warm personal regard he inspired in
those who came to know him well. I met him first on the day we
passed through Snake Creek Gap into Sugar Valley, before the battle
of Resaca. We had to learn from him the positions of the troops
already advancing toward the town, and I rode with General Schofield
to his tent for this purpose. Schofield and he had been classmates
and room-mates at West Point, and McPherson revealed himself to his
old friend as he would not be likely to do to others. His affability
and cordial good-will struck one at once. His graceful bearing and
refined, intelligent face heightened the impression, and one could
not be with him many minutes without seeing that he was a lovable
person. An evenly balanced mind and character had given him a high
grade as a cadet, and at the beginning of the war he was serving as
a captain of engineers. Being appointed to General Grant's staff, he
won completely the general's confidence, and his promotion was
rapid, following closely behind that of Sherman.
His death was sincerely mourned, and his place as a soldier was not
easy to fill. Sherman would have given the command of the Army of
the Tennessee to General Logan, who was next in rank in it, but the
strong opposition of General Thomas made him conclude that this
would be unwise. [Footnote: See Sherman, in The Great Commanders
Series, pp. 229, 332.] If he made a selection outside of the Army of
the Tennessee, Hooker had first claim by seniority of rank, but both
Sherman and Thomas lacked confidence in him. [Footnote: Official
Records, vol. xxxviii. pt. v. p. 272.] When Howard was selected on
Thomas's suggestion, Hooker was doubly offended, for Howard had been
his subordinate at the beginning of the year, and there had been no
love lost between them. Hooker now asked to be relieved from further
service in Sherman's army, and he retired from active field
service,--Slocum, another of his former subordinates, with whom he
had a violent quarrel, being appointed to the command of his corps
on Thomas's nomination. [Footnote: _Id_., pp. 272, 273.] Halleck, in
a letter to Sherman of September 16th, gave pointed testimony to
facts which showed why Hooker was personally an unacceptable
subordinate. [Footnote: _Id_., p. 857.] Sherman insisted, with good
reason, that Hooker had no real grievance, as he was left in command
of his corps, and Howard's promotion was in another and independent
organization, the Army of the Tennessee. He also declared that no
indignity was intended or offered, and that he simply performed his
own duty of selection in accordance with what he believed to be
sound reasons. As to Logan, he took pains to praise his handling of
the Army of the Tennessee after McPherson's death, and to emphasize
his own high opinion of him as an officer and the respect in which
he was held by the whole army. [Footnote: Official Records, vol.
xxxviii. pt. v. p. 522.]