Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 11.
Frank Moore, Ed.

To make a little resume of the whole ten days, let us go back to Kingston, May twenty-second--the date of my last letter. On that day portions of the army had advanced some miles beyond Kingston, and were skirmishing with the enemy; while Sherman's energy had completed the railroad to his army and had thrown forward twenty days rations, ready for a move without a base to begin next morning. But never perhaps was the saying that “large bodies move slowly,” more fully verified than to the troops which formed the rear guard of McPherson's command that day. Early in the morning orders to be ready at a moment's notice were given, but the morning wore away and left the troops lying as the sunrise found them. Gladly, at noon, was the sound to fall in heard. Let the weather be as it may, there is nothing so perplexing and so troublesome as a night march; no soldiers likes to have it in prospect. Appearances, however, all deceive in a soldier's life. Doomed to a night march, it was of no avail that orders came early. It required just so many hours to get the immense wagon train in line, and the rear guard could not go until that was done. It was actually sunset when the last of the troops filed out of Kingston. A night march of course followed, and one of the most unpleasant imaginable. Following the trains would certainly wear the patience of the most patient. A movement forward of ten feet, then a halt of two minutes, another move, and another halt ad infinitum made up the order of march. Plunging into gutters, tumbling over rocks and stumps, and irregularities that could not be distinguished for the darkness, is it any wonder that the poor soldier dreads a night march? Then, on this particular occasion, the dust was inches in depth; penetrating every crevice and fold, and covering the whole man with its dirty gray mist, it is the most disagreeable element, save gunpowder, with which the soldier has to contend.

This is the history of the first night's march of six miles or eight across the Etowah river, on the Van Wert road.

As it had been at Dalton, so it was to be at the Etowah. McPherson, Sherman's right-hand man, was to take the right and flank the position, not only of Etowah but of Altoona. Hence his movement by the Van Wert road, crossing the Etowah at a bridge a few miles from Kingston, which the rebels did not destroy. On the twenty-fourth his command encamped at Van Wert, a little village twenty miles southwest of Kingston, and apparently far away from any military operations. From this place the line of march was changed to the southeast, pointing towards Dallas. On the twenty-sixth, at four P. M., after slight skirmishing, McPherson's command and Jefferson C. Davis' division of the Fourteenth corps, marched by different roads simultaneously into Dallas, the county seat of Paulding county. This is some thirty miles northwest of Atlanta, and nearly twenty miles west of Marietta, the nearest point on the railroad. It was, to many, a source of considerable surprise to find next morning the whole rebel army confronting us, that is confronting Sherman, who was now about ready to form line.

All day of the twenty-seventh was most busily occupied in getting into position. General Fuller's, Colonel Rice's, and Colonel Sprague's brigades, were fiercely engaged all day in as heavy and severe a skirmish as I ever witnessed. Night found them, however, in good position, a half a mile further advanced than they were in the morning. In this skirmish the Twenty-seventh Ohio lost Captain Sawyer, killed, and Lieutenant De Bote, wounded. The Sixty-sixth Indiana lost Captain H. S. McRae, wounded, besides a number of enlisted men. The Sixty-sixth Illinois, formerly known as Birge's sharpshooters, were at the front, and lost quite heavily. The Fifteenth corps, which took position on the right of the Sixteenth, also lost heavily. A portion of the Ninth Iowa was surprised and captured at breakfast.

At night the whole line threw up slight works, and, as well as it could be done, amid a continual popping of skirmishers' guns, the men rested.

All day of the twenty-eighth there had been a continuous rattle of musketry, interspersed with an occasional shot from artillery, which kept a slow procession of ambulances passing to and from the lines to convey the wounded to hospital. Toward evening an unusual activity among the rebels in front of Logan, who was on Dodge's right, appeared. Suddenly a force of infantry was seen hastening toward the rebel [204] left, as if to turn Logan's right. Scarcely had they passed the point where they were visible to us, when a larger force returned at the same rate. Then came volleys along Logan's front, from right to left. A wonderful animation was suddenly infused into the apparently dead mass of wagons and artillery that lay all day in the great open field behind the Fifteenth Corps. A storm was gathering — where should it break? The question was not long unanswered. Minor attempts were made along almost the whole of Logan's line, but in front of General Sweeny's division was the main force. Bates' division of Hardee's corpse was hurled against Sweeny's division, which at that time presented a front of two regiments and one portion of a battery. The immortal Second Iowa, and the younger, but not less gallant Sixty-sixth Indiana, with two sections of Welker's Battery, (H, First Missouri Light Artillery,) met the shock of the charge. Fierce and hot was the contest — brave men were pitted against brave — but it was impossible to advance before the withering fire of that portion of Colonel Rice's brigade. In half an hour from the first volley, the shout of victory rang on the evening air, and was taken up by regiment after regiment, until the woods rang again. A few prisoners were captured, from whom it was ascertained that the rebel Second Kentucky Regiment was engaged. One of that regiment, Badger, of Columbus, Kentucky, who was captured, has friends in Cincinnati. Another from Covington, Kentucky, named Jones, belonging to the same regiment, was also captured. The loss of the Sixty-sixth and Second Iowa, was very slight. The next day the Sixty-sixth Indiana found sixty-three dead rebels in their front.

On the twenty-ninth Colonel Mersey's brigade relieved Colonel Rice's, and still the skirmishing continued. Company B, of the Eighty-first Ohio, was deployed as skirmishers, and Private James Anderson, of Company D, volunteered to go also. Very soon he was borne back mortally wounded. All day the heavy skirmishing was kept up. The lines were so close that rebel balls reached even beyond the headquarters of Generals Sweeny and Dodge. No general attack was made, however.

It was after eleven o'clock at night, of the twenty-ninth, when as some of us were listening to the dull, heavy booming of Hooker's guns to the left, a bright flash of a musket to the right, and in front of our line, told of approaching danger. Almost instantly the whole picket line in front of Mersey's brigade was ablaze, and retiring before our advancing column. Scarcely had the pickets reached the works, until every man of the long, sinuous line, which a moment before seemed wrapped in slumber, was up to his place, and the next moment the Eighty-first Ohio and Twelfth Illinois poured a volley of death into the approaching column. A flash and a whiz was the reply, but now loading and firing as rapidly as possible, while Welker poured an almost ceaseless fire from his four guns, the scene became grand beyond description. Never before have I witnessed such a scene of terrible grandeur The night was dark, and a heavy air seemed to weigh down the sulphurous smoke until the darkness was changed to gray, in which the dark figures of the men became visible — a sort of demon-looking set, engaged in a ghastly play with death. But it could not last long. The earthworks, together with the wild aiming of the rebels, gave us complete protection, while they were without any shield. Soon they renewed the attack at another place, then on Mersey again, and again to the right, until at three o'clock, when they recoiled from their last attack, they had made seven attempts to break our lines I The occasion of this desperation, it is thought, was that they had detected a movement commenced in the morning by the Fifteenth Corps toward our left, and thought to break through our lines while moving. The movement had commenced, and if they had waited a few hours later, their attack might have resulted in a different manner. Our loss was comparatively nothing, and was confined almost exclusively to the men deployed as skirmishers in front of the works. Lieutenant Ulrick, of the Sixty-sixth Illinois, was mortally wounded. Lieutenant Williamson, same regiment, was wounded.

Hardly had the first half hour's fighting ended, until