Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 18.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

[268] or pierced with bayonets. For some time we fought them across the breastworks, both sides lying low and putting their guns under the head-logs upon the works, firing rapidly and at random, and not exposing any part of the body except the hand that fired the gun. While this melee was going on across the works we were exposed to a dangerous fire from some of our own men of General Stewart's corps to our right rear, there being an angle in the enemy's line in that direction. At the same time we were subjected to an enfilading fire from the enemy to our left. Finally, the fatality to us from these three fires—front, rear and left—became so great that we shouted to the enemy across the works to ‘cease firing’ and we would surrender. At length they heard us, understood us, and ceased their fire; we crossed the works and surrendered. It was fatal to leave the ditch and endeavor to escape to the rear. Every man who attempted it (and a number did) was at once exposed and was shot down without exception. Pardon me if I further digress sufficiently to say that the left of my brigade, under command of Colonel Horace Rice (I was on the right), successfully broke the line and some of my brave and noble men were killed fifty paces or more within the works. But just at this critical juncture a reinforcement of a Federal brigade confronted them with a heavy fire, and being few in numbers they were driven back to the opposite side of the works, behind which they took position and bravely held the line they had previously taken. Night soon intervening, the Federal army withdrew from the field and retired to Nashville.

This was a gallant and glorious fight on the part of the Confederates, but a sad disaster to their cause and their country. The intrepid Cleburne had fallen. Generals Granberry and Adams of his command, Generals Carter, Strahl and Gist of Cheatham's command and of the division of which my brigades composed a part, had also fallen, while hundreds of others, less notable but no less brave and self-sacrificing, had made their last charge and had fought their last battle. For reckless, desperate courage this conflict will rank with Gettysburg or Balaklava.

Referring again to General Cleburne's action upon this memorable field, it appears upon first view as if inspired by desperation. For he was so close to the enemy, so conspicuous upon his stately steed, as he charged along the closing lines, that it seems impossible that he could have expected any other result to himself than that which occurred. But, be it remembered that he was without fear, that he